Shanter's relentless storm-like attacks gradually seized control of the battle, forcing Teviste to go all out in defense, leaving him no chance to counterattack.
Initially evenly matched, Teviste could no longer keep up after injuring his left arm. Even if he wanted to risk a mutual demise with Shanter, there was no opening to do so.
"Damn it! Where the hell are my crewmates?" Teviste cursed inwardly, panic rising.
In contrast to Teviste, whose age quadrupled his own, Shanter remained calm and composed, showing no signs of agitation or haste. Each slash of his blade was deliberate, methodically expanding his advantage.
When Shanter first obtained the Fukuoka Ichimonji, he knew nothing about swordsmanship or techniques. However, after hundreds of battles over the past four years, he gradually developed a style of his own.
That said, Shanter always felt something off about his self-taught style—it didn't seem suited for the katana-like Fukuoka Ichimonji. Instead, it felt more appropriate for a longer blade.
Still, relying on his almost inhuman combat instincts, Shanter wielded the Fukuoka Ichimonji with remarkable prowess, far surpassing ordinary fighters.
Of course, Shanter's skills were only impressive by average standards. Compared to true swordmasters who dedicated their lives to the blade, his abilities were leagues apart. After all, his techniques were a result of accumulated experience, lacking any formal structure or methodology.
"At this rate, it'll take about a hundred more rounds to finish this," Shanter thought, slashing another wound into Teviste's right arm.
"Captain!" "Captain Teviste!"
Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside the captain's cabin. Both fighters were startled—Shanter in frustration, and Teviste in elation, nearly moved to tears.
"Help me, now!" Teviste, despite decades at sea, had rarely faced life-threatening situations, with the last time being over a decade ago. In contrast, Shanter, who regularly danced on the edge of life and death, was far more accustomed to such battles.
Taking advantage of Teviste's distraction, Shanter slashed a bloody gash across his waist.
"Captain, we couldn't catch that girl, but we'll keep—" The words of a pirate barging into the cabin were cut short—literally—by Shanter's swift strike, cleaving the intruder in two.
The remaining pirates froze, then charged in with enraged howls.
Shanter sneered, his blade flashing. Within moments, the pirates lay lifeless on the cabin floor.
However, the brief interlude allowed Teviste to escape his precarious situation.
"Well done, brat!" Teviste sneered, seeing Shanter now surrounded by his crew.
Shanter ignored him, calmly slicing down his seventh opponent of the day.
"Let me show you my true strength!" Teviste declared, unfazed by the deaths of his subordinates. As long as his officer corps remained intact, recruiting more underlings in this thriving era of piracy would be no issue.
Thinking of his officers, Teviste's expression twisted slightly. Four years ago, during the relentless purge led by Major Farin, the Teviste Pirates suffered devastating losses. Among his vice-captain and the eight unit leaders, only one deputy leader survived, and most of his forces were left crippled.
In the aftermath, opportunistic rival pirate crews swooped in. Though Teviste eventually obliterated these enemies, his forces dwindled to a mere sixty or seventy battered remnants. If not for this, how could he have been driven into such dire straits, suppressed by a mere brat?
What Teviste didn't know, however, was that Major Farin had met his end at Shanter's hands.
Shanter remained unfazed by Teviste's boast. Instead, he continued methodically slashing through the lackeys surrounding him, indifferent to their numbers.
"You little runt, this move—I didn't even use it against Rayleigh the Dark King!" Teviste proclaimed, dropping a bombshell. "Dying by this technique is an honor you should cherish!"
For the first time, Shanter responded, snorting derisively.
Rayleigh the Dark King—Shanter knew the name well. As the vice-captain of the Roger Pirates and the Pirate King's right-hand man, Rayleigh's fame shook the Grand Line and defined an era. Comparing himself to such a figure was laughable at best, and Shanter's disdain was evident.
Yet the dangerous sensation that crept up his spine was unmistakable. Only a handful of times had Shanter felt this way before—each instance leaving him teetering on the brink of death.
"Brat, it's your turn to cry!" Teviste snarled.
By now, Shanter had halved the lackeys' numbers. While individually unimpressive, they were battle-hardened elites, fearless and unyielding. Despite their comrades' deaths, they charged on, determined to fight to the last breath.
A few, however, glanced around nervously, seeking a way out of the carnage.
Even as Shanter culled the masses, a part of his focus remained on Teviste, his body cloaked in Busoshoku Haki as a precaution against the pirate captain's "ultimate move."
Strangely, Teviste didn't attack. Instead, he sheathed his Spiral Stinger at his waist.
Far from lowering his guard, Shanter's wariness only deepened, sensing imminent danger.
"It must be some kind of Devil Fruit ability," he thought, fortifying his Haki.
The ability of Busoshoku Haki to counter Devil Fruit powers was a secret Shanter had discovered by chance. His experience with Devil Fruit users was limited—aside from Teviste, the only one he'd fought was Kuzan.
Of course, there was also Robin, though their interactions had been far from combative. Shanter had stumbled upon this Haki secret during a playful scuffle with her about a year ago—a memory both amusing and embarrassing.
"Brat, let me show you the true extent of my powers as a user of the Twist-Twist Fruit!" Teviste declared, his arms twisting like coiled ropes. "What you've seen so far is just the surface!"
An overwhelming sense of danger gripped Shanter, setting every nerve on edge.
"Spiral Rend!"
Before Shanter could react, a searing pain tore through his left arm. Gritting his teeth, he realized with horror that his elbow joint had been dislocated, twisted grotesquely out of place.
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