The first round had ended. An hour had passed.
During that time, a few competitors had surrendered and left the ring, their will broken before their bodies could be.
As for the rest?
Except for the five who advanced, every other fighter had met the same fate—death.
Site 2.
Before Rin, nine blood-soaked warriors stood, their bodies painted in red, their expressions hardened by the carnage. The battlefield was littered with severed limbs and shattered weapons, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. The ground beneath their feet had turned into a death-stained arena, much like the bloodbaths of Impel Down's lowest levels or the brutal gladiator matches of the Corrida Colosseum.
With the first match concluded, Rin stepped out of the ring. He rested for a moment, allowing his body to recover while awaiting the second match, set to begin in fifteen minutes.
In the lounge area.
Rin scanned the other competitors who had advanced. Including himself, there were nineteen.
Each one bore battle scars—some fresh, hastily bandaged by on-site medics, while others were old wounds from past fights. Their eyes gleamed with hunger, like beasts who had survived the culling of the weak. Some nursed broken bones, while others sat silently, their minds calculating their next moves.
Rin exhaled slightly and muttered to himself, "This competition is quite useful."
Observing the fighters around him, he noted that their strength was relatively balanced. Some were slightly stronger, but there were no overwhelming monsters like the commanders of Yonko crews. It was a battlefield designed for brutal evolution—where warriors were forced into desperate, blood-soaked battles, unlocking hidden potential in life-or-death moments.
Such an environment was a perfect breeding ground for powerful soldiers.
"If this method were used to train a crew…"
Rin's mind wandered to the idea of forming a pirate crew of his own. If he were to gather his subordinates from these battle-hardened fighters, he could ensure they were worth recruiting.
However, Rin had high standards.
Anyone older than twenty-three was immediately dismissed from his thoughts.
By that age, most people had reached their peak—only a rare few, like Roronoa Zoro or Portgas D. Ace, could continue growing beyond that point. Potential mattered more than experience.
So Rin's focus narrowed to those under twenty-three.
And soon, his eyes landed on one person.
It wasn't hard to spot him.
After all, he was the only other fighter in the group who looked to be Rin's age around fourteen or fifteen.
The boy wore a jet-black coat, ragged and torn from battle. His expression was eerily calm, almost too composed for someone who had just fought through a battlefield of death.
But what caught Rin's attention the most his eyes.
They were filled with an unwavering determination.
Rin recognized that look. It wasn't the mindless bloodlust of a killer or the greed of a pirate looking to pillage. No, this boy had a purpose, a goal that kept him standing even after surviving a brutal fight.
Scars decorated his arms and legs, evidence of past battles, but he carried himself with an air of silent resilience.
"Interesting."
Rin appreciated that kind of warrior. Those with a true dream were the ones who pushed past their limits. They refused to die, clawing their way to survival and growth no matter the cost.
Most so-called pirates in this world shouted about their ambitions, but in reality, they were nothing more than glorified bandits—fighting only to plunder and indulge in their selfish desires.
This boy… was different.
Rin's curiosity was piqued, but he made no immediate move to approach him. Not yet.
The upcoming matches would serve as the perfect test. If the boy was truly worth recruiting, Rin would see it in battle.
Fifteen minutes passed.
The second match began.
Alongside Rin, twenty fighters stepped into the arena.
"BEGIN!"
The referee's voice echoed across the battlefield.
As expected, the competitors immediately sized each other up, looking for the easiest targets to eliminate first.
And just like before—Rin and the black-coated boy became the center of attention.
The four warriors who had fought alongside Rin in the first match wisely kept their distance, knowing better than to challenge him.
But the others?
They weren't as smart.
They saw a young face and assumed weakness.
They saw an opportunity to remove threats early.
They saw prey.
How foolish.
Within a minute, one of the fighters made his move.
A slender man, his body wiry yet toned, stepped forward. His sharp, bird-like eyes locked onto Rin, and without hesitation, he lunged forward with his katana in hand.
His movements were fast—fluid, refined, like a trained swordsman. His footwork resembled that of Wano's samurai, and his killing intent was sharp enough to send shivers down an ordinary man's spine.
"Die."
The swordsman's voice was cold as he brought his blade down toward Rin's head.
The attack was clean. Precise. Deadly.
But to Rin, it was also far too slow.
"Good speed," Rin muttered. Then he scoffed, tilting his head slightly. "But you picked the wrong opponent."
'Ittoryu Iai: Draw and Slash.'
In a blur of motion, Rin's hand flicked toward the Thunder Calamity Blade at his waist.
A single, fluid draw.
A flash of silver and violet.
A streak of compressed air and ghostly energy surged forward from his blade.
Schlick.
Silence.
Rin calmly sheathed his sword.
Behind him, the slender swordsman's katana suddenly shattered into pieces. His eyes widened in shock as he staggered backward—only for his torso to split apart at the waist.
Blood erupted into the air. His body collapsed in two separate halves.
Another instant kill.
A horrified gulp rippled through the remaining fighters.
Several warriors instinctively took a step back, sweat forming on their brows.
The battlefield had just changed.
No one wanted to be the next fool to challenge Rin.
And so, their focus shifted.
If Rin was untouchable, then…
Their gazes fell upon the black-coated boy.
——————
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