Roldy had no idea that the firm stance he displayed today with Iron Body would later be exaggerated by Marine soldiers into sothing almost mythical.
In ti, Iron Body would beco a core focus of Marine training.
And all of it would trace back to him.
Well… him and another equally monstrous old man.
Back to the matter at hand.
If Roldy 's Iron Body nullified ninety percent of Basorine's damage, then the addition of Armant Haki pushed that figure to ninety-eight percent.
His Armant Haki was simply too strong—so strong that it could compensate for the weakness of his Observation Haki.
After all, if he stood immovable like a mountain, his Armant Haki hard enough to withstand any blow without dying, then weaker Observation Haki was tolerable.
Still—
Pure defense was not what Roldy wanted.
His eyes locked onto Basorine.
More precisely—
Onto Basorine's hands.
If he couldn't track the trajectory of the blade… if he couldn't follow the slashes…
Then he would track the hands that controlled them.
No matter how fast, hand movent still required motion—even if minimal.
Roldy gathered every ounce of his Observation Haki and focused.
Still not enough.
A duel against a Great Swordsman was never that simple.
Yet monts later—
He finally began to barely perceive Basorine's hands.
For so reason, his forr teacher had slowed down.
A fighter of that caliber possessed stamina like the sea itself. Fatigue was not a factor.
And yet—
He had undeniably slowed.
Almost deliberately.
There was no ti to dwell on it.
Roldy concentrated fully.
Relying on his monstrous comprehension, he began attempting to learn the technique on the spot.
After a mont—
He released Iron Body.
One blade returned to its scabbard.
With both hands, he gripped his remaining sword and assud the exact sa reverse-angled stance as Basorine.
Basorine snorted.
"Hah! Naive brat! You think you can learn my ultimate technique in such a short ti? Don't be ridiculous! Do you think I'd tell you that the key to this move is speed? Utter nonsense! As if I'd ever reveal sothing like that! Not to ntion it requires complete freedom of motion—your opponent must never see your attack angle! That's the deepest secret of this technique! How could I possibly tell you?"
He spoke righteously.
The Marines nearby: …
The pirates in the distance: …
So this thick-browed old man was that kind of person.
Claiming he would never teach his ultimate move—
While explaining every detail of how to use it.
Had he not noticed the rising tide beneath his feet?
All that water?
It was rcy.
Roldy understood Basorine's intention.
His emotions stirred briefly—but only briefly.
Soon, he was completely absorbed in the explanation.
He began imitating the technique.
Many of his attempts were wildly off target—but each ti he veered too far astray, Basorine would instantly strike his blade, correcting its trajectory.
This "life-and-death duel" had already lasted a full hour.
Roldy 's swing speed increased.
The blade itself disappeared—only afterimages remained.
One sword seed to beco a dozen, stubbornly clashing against Basorine's storm of strikes.
And the veteran Vice Admiral 's "scolding" had not stopped.
"Good thing you defected from the Marines. Otherwise, you'd have ruined my reputation! Who swings like that?!"
"Idiot! Tighten your core! Empty your mind! A blade without thought is the hardest to evade! You can't even grasp that? Is this the level of a Rocks Division Commander?!"
The scolding—
Was incredibly detailed.
Roldy listened as if intoxicated.
He could feel his swordsmanship surging upward at astonishing speed.
He had already touched the threshold.
Everyone present understood what was happening.
Yet no one intervened.
Except for the furious CP agent hiding aboard the rchant ship.
Even the slave-trading captain began contemplating the strangely intimate scene unfolding before him.
His instincts sharpened.
A terrifying thought surfaced.
The Vice Admiral 's attitude toward Roldy was obvious to even the dullest fool.
And this was a pillar of Marine Headquarters.
If four years of master-disciple bonds could lead to this…
Then what of the senior Marines who had trained Roldy for seven years? Those who had watched him grow from childhood?
When they eventually faced him on the battlefield—
What choices would they make?
The rchant captain dared not think further.
The implications were chilling.
The outco of this battle had been decided from the start.
Roldy —whose comprehension defied reason—had grasped the fundantals of Basorine's ultimate technique.
And with that still-rough swordsmanship—
He defeated a Great Swordsman head-on.
Absurd.
Completely absurd.
But that was not the most important part.
After his defeat—
Basorine ordered a retreat.
The two small-class Marine warships turned and vanished at full speed without hesitation.
Roldy ordered his own n not to fire.
Only when the Marine vessels had disappeared beyond the horizon did Roldy command his ship to close in and board the rchant vessel.
When a lighthouse remains dark, the first beam of light to pierce the night is often condemned as the greatest sin.
When truth itself is twisted into sothing grotesque—
It takes soone ruthless enough to tear the festering wound open.
Perhaps such a person had already erged.
And perhaps—
To die at such a person's hands was not entirely unbearable.
The rchant captain nearly hypnotized himself with that thought.
In truth, he wanted to flee.
But his rchant vessel could not outrun Roldy 's ship.
Resistance was aningless. It would only make their deaths more painful.
When Roldy stepped aboard—
The captain smiled.
Then shot himself dead.
Roldy stared at the corpse for a long mont.
Then he ordered his n to bind the remaining traffickers.
In his own hand, he held a thick whip.
After a brutal barrage of cracking strikes—
Only mangled flesh remained on deck.
Two days later—
A shocking headline spread across the world.
"Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral 'Mad Blade' Basorine Announces Retirent."
Civilians did not understand what had happened.
They only saw the newspaper's front-page photograph.
Basorine.
Smiling brightly.
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