Smoker's appearance once again disrupted Arlong's state of mind.
If Garen, with his "Admiral-level strength," had reminded Arlong of Kizaru's overwhelming power, then Smoker, a Logia-type user, reminded him of Kizaru's slipperiness.
It was a kind of slipperiness unique to Logia users—untouchable, intangible, and with strange and elusive abilities tied to their specific Devil Fruits.
"Damn it!"
Arlong cursed under his breath and turned to flee again.
This time, his escape route led him toward the sea.
The ocean was the Fishmen's home turf—and the perfect place to evade pursuit by Devil Fruit users.
The thought made Arlong's heart bleed with regret.
He had only run to Cocoyasi Village to take hostages because he was afraid of that "Admiral-level" knight. If he had known that so-called East Blue knight was a fraud, he would've dived into the ocean and escaped long ago.
'Damn those deceitful media networks!'
Even as he fled, he couldn't help but cast a bitter, accusing glare at Wallace, the reporter who was still busy snapping photos.
"Trying to run?!"
Garen picked up his greatsword and gave chase, roaring loudly at Arlong's fleeing figure, "If you're a real man, come back and fight me!"
Suddenly, Arlong froze in his tracks—then turned and charged straight at Garen again.
Once more, in front of the few remaining fishman underlings, he demonstrated what it meant to be iron-willed, courageous, and responsible—a true man.
But this time, he didn't land a clean hit on Garen.
"White Fist!"
Smoker threw a punch, his arm instantly morphing into a dense cloud of white smoke, which quickly gathered into a massive smoke fist.
The huge fist trailed smoke behind it as it blasted toward Arlong, creating an intimidating spectacle.
But Arlong, still under the irresistible pull of Garen's "taunt," completely ignored the smoke fist and charged straight ahead.
The smoke fist stood directly in his path, yet Arlong rammed into it without hesitation.
With a dull thud, Smoker's smoke fist was shattered by Arlong's brute force.
Smoke, after all, had a natural disadvantage in direct physical confrontation—and with Smoker still lacking advanced control over his Devil Fruit, it was hard for his intangible smoke to stop a master of physical combat.
But Smoker didn't hesitate for even a second. He simply swung his smoke arm again.
"White Snake!"
The dispersed smoke reformed into several thick, snake-like coils of white smoke, which immediately wrapped around Arlong's body.
Arlong's muscles bulged as he struggled fiercely against the smoky snakes. Within moments, the smoke began to weaken and lose form under his overwhelming strength.
"Decisive Strike!"
Garen seized the opportunity without hesitation, swinging his sword and slashing across Arlong's chest.
A fresh, gruesome wound split open on Arlong's torso, blood gushing out.
"AHHH!"
Howling in pain, Arlong exploded with raw power, tearing through the restraints of the White Snake and lunged madly at Garen.
But he struck only a decoy.
Then came another familiar, righteous backstab.
To be fair, Arlong was incredibly tough. Even after taking so many hits, he still had the strength to keep fighting Garen and Smoker.
But against the two of them, that impressive durability only prolonged his suffering and offered the faintest illusion of hope.
The rest of the battle was straightforward—and humiliating for Arlong.
Trying to fight Smoker? Smoker could turn into smoke and ignore physical damage.
Trying to fight Garen? He used some low-blow clone technique, and Smoker was always backing him up with long-range crowd control. Even if Arlong got lucky and landed a hit, Garen always came out "completely unharmed."
Trying to run away? That damned knight just had to shout something, and somehow Arlong would find himself drawn back into the fight like a puppet on strings.
A few minutes later, Garen and Smoker stood side by side, their weapons—Jitte and greatsword—dripping with fresh fishman blood.
Arlong lay at their feet, his body covered in deep wounds, blood oozing from every gash.
He was gasping for breath like a beached fish, his chest rising and falling in painful spasms, lying limp on the ground.
"Damn, this fish is sturdy," Garen couldn't help but comment. He then turned to Smoker and said, "Thanks for the help."
If Garen had fought Arlong alone, he would've had to struggle for at least half an hour.
"What are you thanking me for?" Smoker took a long drag from his cigar and replied calmly, "This was a Navy anti-pirate operation in the first place."
As he spoke, Smoker casually formed a trail of smoke to carry Arlong's half-dead body and turned to head back toward the Navy soldiers.
"Wait—huh?" Garen reached out to stop him. "Where are you taking him?"
"Back to base," Smoker replied offhandedly. "To be dealt with according to Navy procedures."
That's when it hit Garen—this mission had been an official Navy operation. Not only would he not receive any bounty for Arlong's capture, he didn't even have the right to decide what happened to the prisoner.
"Hold on!"
Garen quickly composed himself and spoke righteously:
"Arlong has terrorized the people, committed countless atrocities—he's no less evil than that corrupt Captain Nezumi!"
"To let someone like him live and await judgment? That's letting him off easy!"
"Uhh…" Smoker hesitated slightly.
He had decisively executed Captain Nezumi because of his deep hatred for corrupt Marines after the Loguetown incident. But that didn't mean he'd completely transformed into an Akainu 2.0.
As long as he could keep his emotions in check, Smoker still preferred to follow protocol.
But Garen doubled down, condemning Arlong with righteous fury:
"A shameless tyrant who butchered the weak and ruled over the suffering like a despot…"
"People like him don't deserve to live. What—are we keeping him around for decoration?!"
Smoker's resolve began to waver.
Garen looked around at the angry and vengeful villagers of Cocoyasi, then decided to appeal directly to the people:
"Smoker! Ask the villagers who suffered under Arlong's cruelty for years…"
"Does he deserve to live?!"
The villagers, long oppressed by Arlong's rule, had resentment and hatred boiling in their hearts. At that moment, their fury erupted.
Cries for execution filled the air.
"He deserves to die!"
A powerful voice cut through the chaos—it was filled with hate, sorrow, and justice. It silenced the villagers.
Garen turned toward the voice—it was Nami.
Her eyes shimmered with tears, burning with a mix of rage, satisfaction, grief, and release.
Trembling, Nami suddenly lunged forward, snatched a rifle from a nearby Navy soldier, and strode up to Arlong.
Finally, she pressed the barrel firmly against Arlong's forehead.
"Arlong!"
Tears streamed down Nami's cheeks, her eyes aflame with vengeance. "Do you remember?"
Her finger tightened on the trigger, her body trembling uncontrollably:
"You held a gun to Bell-mère's head just like this…"
"Haha…"
With the gun pointed at his forehead, Arlong let out a crazed, carefree laugh and sneered:
"Bell-mère? Tch—"
"I've killed too many people in my life! What's one more?!"
"Stop yapping and pull the damn trigger if you're gonna do it!"
With that, he closed his eyes in resignation.
Suddenly, silence fell.
Only the sound of Nami's ragged breathing remained.
Tears streamed freely down her delicate face, her body shaking more violently than ever.
Nami had never killed anyone—never even considered it.
But this hideous fishman in front of her? She wanted to kill him.
The pain and conflict in her heart only deepened, her tears flowing harder.
Her finger squeezed tighter on the trigger—
Then, a large hand gently pressed down on the barrel of the gun.
"Enough."
Garen sighed softly and looked at Nami.
"You're not that kind of person."
Nami froze.
Her trembling hands still gripped the rifle, but now she was shaking even more.
Garen gently but firmly moved the barrel away from Arlong's head.
"Nami…" he repeated gently. "You're not that kind of person."
Finally, Nami let the rifle fall from her hands and collapsed into Garen's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
Arlong slowly opened his eyes.
A sliver of relief crept into his heart—he'd survived.
But Garen, while comforting the emotional Nami in his arms, shot Arlong a cold, emotionless glance.
"Don't get any ideas."
"She's not that kind of person…"
"I am."
(End of Chapter)