14: 14.
Fist of Justice.
When an Unstoppable Force Meets A MOVABLE Object 14: 14.
Fist of Justice.
When an Unstoppable Force Meets A MOVABLE Object Garp grinned as Arlong marched toward him.
Anger radiating from every step as if the ground itself had personally offended him.
Considering that a massive boar had just fallen from the sky and crushed him into the dirt, his outrage was very understandable.
Everyone would be enraged too, if they didn’t get crushed to death yet.
What Arlong failed to realize, however, was that anger worked best when paired with awareness, and at the moment he possessed only the former.
Garp stood there in a casual floral shirt, looking less like the Marine Hero who once cornered legends and more like a retired grandfather who had wandered into the wrong island while searching for snacks.
For anyone who had never seen him in person, there was very little about his current appearance that screamed “the man who can ruin your entire life in one punch.” Arlong spat his blood to the side and discarded the broken pistol that had been rendered useless by the falling boar.
With visible irritation, he reached up and adjusted his saw-like nose, which had been bent slightly to the left.
He forced it back into place with a loud crack as if that nose was just a prop.
Usopp really had to learn this trick from him.
Even after suffering that indignity, Arlong’s confidence did not waver.
“That hurt a little, old man,” Arlong said, his lips curling into a predatory grin that revealed rows of sharp teeth.
“But it wasn’t nearly enough to defeat a Fishman.
Our bodies are superior to yours.
Something like that is nothing more than a sting.” His tone carried the familiar arrogance of someone who had repeated that belief so many times that it had become an unquestionable truth in his mind.
And to an extent, he was not wrong.
Fishmen were naturally stronger than humans, their bodies were built to endure the crushing pressures of the deep sea, their muscles were denser, their endurance was greater.
In most situations, that advantage alone was enough to dominate their opponents.
Unfortunately for him, Garp was not “most situations.” Behind Arlong, his crew relaxed slightly upon seeing that their captain remained standing.
Their confidence returned quickly, like a tide rushing back after a brief retreat, and they began to eye Garp with renewed boldness.
To them, this was just another human who had overstepped.
All of them, except one.
Hatchan tilted his head, his multiple arms shifting awkwardly as he squinted at Garp.
“Nyu… he looks familiar,” Hatchan muttered.
“I think I’ve seen him somewhere before…” The others paid him little attention, dismissing his uncertainty as one of his usual moments of confusion.
Then Belle-mere spoke.
“V-Vice-Admiral Garp!?” The name did not simply travel through the air.
It exploded.
Every Fishman pirate froze as if struck by lightning, their bodies reacting before their minds could even process the words.
Cold sweats broke across their skin, and the confidence they had just regained shattered instantly.
Because that name was not just a title.
It was a warning.
The Marine Hero.
The man who had cornered the Pirate King.
The nightmare that every pirate on the Grand Line learned to respect, fear, or avoid entirely.
Even Arlong, whose pride had moments ago towered over the battlefield, felt something unfamiliar crawl up his spine.
His eyes widened as realization finally struck, and for the first time since arriving in this village, he took a step back.
“Garp?!” he muttered, disbelief seeping into his voice.
“W-why would someone like you be here?” Garp tilted his head, his grin never fading, though there was something sharper behind it now.
“Oh?
Am I not allowed to be here?” he replied casually.
“Even you’re here, aren’t you?
Pirates from the Grand Line coming all the way to East Blue like it’s a vacation spot.
So why can’t I also have my vacation here?” “You’re not on vacation.” Bogard just had to retort.
The Fishmen swallowed their saliva hard.
“Crap… That’s right, he’s from East Blue,” another whispered, as if that detail somehow could make the situation better.
They had chosen East Blue precisely because it was known as the weakest sea, a place where they could establish dominance without resistance, where their strength would go unchallenged.
They had expected fear, submission, and easy control.
What they had not expected was to encounter the strongest man ever produced by that very sea on their first outing.
Arlong clenched his teeth.
There was no escape from this.
Bribery would not work on Garp, and running would only delay the inevitable.
The only option left was the one he had always relied on.
Violence.
Before Arlong could move, however, his crewmates surged forward, unwilling to let their captain face this threat alone.
Kuroobi stepped in first, his body twisting as he unleashed a powerful Fishman Karate strike aimed directly at Garp’s chest.
At the same time, Chew inhaled deeply and fired a pressurized stream of water toward Garp’s face, the force of it capable of shattering stone.
Garp did not dodge.
He raised one hand and casually blocked the incoming water, letting it splash harmlessly against his palm, while he allowed Kuroobi’s punch to land squarely against his chest.
The impact sent him flying backward.
He crashed into Belle-mere’s house, tearing through wood and walls as if they were paper, and for a brief moment, silence fell over the battlefield.
“…Did it work?” Chew asked, his voice tinged with cautious hope.
It was the worst possible jinx he could have said.
Because a moment later, Garp stood up from the wreckage completely unscathed, brushing dust off his shirt as if he had merely stumbled into a stack of cushions rather than been launched through a building.
He looked at the ruined house, then at Bogard.
“This isn’t good,” Garp said thoughtfully.
“We damaged a civilian’s home.” “The Marines will compensate the victims,” Bogard replied calmly, now standing behind the Fishman Pirates, his sudden presence making several of them jump.
“And the criminals responsible will be arrested.” Garp nodded, satisfied.
“Good.
Then let’s make sure we catch them properly.” He disappeared.
There was no warning, no buildup, no dramatic motion.
One moment he stood several meters away, and the next he was between Kuroobi and Chew.
His hands already gripping their faces.
Before either of them could react, he slammed their heads together with a dull, decisive crack.
Both collapsed instantly.
To the villagers, it looked as if Garp had simply vanished and reappeared, and by the time their eyes caught up, two of the invaders were already unconscious on the ground.
Arlong roared and lunged forward, gripping his massive serrated sword as he leapt into the air.
With all his strength, he brought it down toward Garp’s head, the blade gleaming with lethal intent.
Garp did not move.
The sword struck him— And shattered.
The villagers gasped as the massive weapon broke apart upon impact, fragments scattering across the ground like broken glass.
Garp remained exactly where he was, completely unharmed, as if the attack had been nothing more than a light tap.
Before Arlong could comprehend what had just happened, Garp’s hand shot upward and grabbed him by the face, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
Arlong struggled, his powerful body straining, muscles bulging as he tried to break free.
Yet Garp’s arm did not move.
Behind them, the remaining Fishmen rushed forward in desperation, but Bogard intercepted them with precise, controlled movements.
Using only the sheathed blade of his sword, he struck them down one by one, each blow calculated to incapacitate without causing unnecessary bloodshed, especially with terrified villagers and children watching.
To the onlookers, Bogard appeared almost as unreal as Garp, vanishing and reappearing in different positions as each Fishman fell.
Belle-mere stood frozen, her mind struggling to reconcile what she was witnessing.
She had known that high-ranking Marines were strong.
But she didn’t expect they were this overwhelming.
Garp looked up at Arlong, who was still thrashing in his grip.
“You’re no longer part of the Sun Pirates,” Garp said evenly.
“That means I can send you back to Impel Down without any complications.
This time, you might even get a deeper level.
Think of it as an upgrade.” Arlong snarled, but there was fear in his eyes now, unmistakable and growing.
Garp’s other fist drove into his stomach.
The impact was not dramatic.
It was not flashy, but it was decisive.
Arlong’s body went limp instantly.
His consciousness fading as if a switch had been flipped.
Garp released him, letting him drop to the ground.
“Capture them!” Bogard quickly secured the remaining Fishmen, binding them efficiently as he signaled for reinforcements.
He had already contacted Garp’s crew earlier, anticipating the aftermath of such a confrontation.
With the danger gone, the tension in the village slowly dissolved, replaced by disbelief and cautious relief.
Garp stretched, then looked around at the battered homes and shaken villagers.
“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together, “that was noisy.
Let’s fix the mood.” Before anyone could question him, he dragged the massive boar into the center of the village.
“We’re having a feast!” The declaration stunned everyone, but it did not take long for the meaning to sink in.
After fear, after destruction, after facing death, they were being given relief.
Food, laughter, and a chance to breathe again.
Belle-mere watched quietly as the villagers began to gather, their expressions slowly softening.
Her house was damaged.
Her life had nearly ended.
And yet, somehow, things had turned out differently.
Someone had saved her, and unbeknownst to her, this change of fate was initiated by a boy she didn’t even know, and right now, that boy was feeling conflicted.
Usopp stared at the unfinished letter in front of him, unsure whether he had to keep writing or not.
He knew he could not keep doing this.
Each letter he sent carried risk, not just for himself, but for his mother and everyone around him.
Even sending one every month felt like walking on a thin line stretched over a bottomless pit.
If the wrong people noticed his letters… He exhaled slowly.
“…This is enough,” he muttered.
He wanted to change more things, he wanted to affect more fates.
But if that meant he had to compromise his family’s safety, then it wasn’t worth the effort.
Now, whether his letters would change some fates or not, he would not know it until a later date.
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CHAPTER 65.
Up The Towering Drum Mountain CHAPTER 66.
HolyRicekun