Chapter Sixteen: The Battle Begins

For the past few days, Camus had been sparring with Robin, and her progress was remarkable. They trained during the day, meditated at night, and in the blink of an eye, a week had passed.

Now, Camus stood atop a seaside rock, gazing at the dozens of navy warships slowly emerging from the horizon. He tightened his grip on the “Purple Emperor.” Though he had immense confidence in himself, facing such a formidable fleet still made his scalp tingle. Each warship was enormous; standing below one would make a person seem no bigger than an ant.

Suddenly, a soft, warm hand slipped into his. Camus turned to see Robin, and he smiled gently. “Robin, trust your brother, alright? Heh, even if I can’t win, I can always escape.” He pulled Robin into his arms.

“I do trust you, Brother Camus. I just feel useless. I truly wish I could help you.” Robin spoke softly, her voice tinged with regret as she nestled in his embrace.

Camus straightened her gently, placed a tender kiss on her forehead, and whispered, “Robin, you’re already incredible, and you’re only going to get stronger. Leave the fighting to your brother.”

“Mhm, but you must hurry back, okay?” She brushed her lips lightly against his, and Camus placed her into a ring—not the original one, but a different ring.

Watching the warships draw ever closer, Camus let out a cold chuckle, sat down on the rock, took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one with a flash of violet light from his fingers, and exhaled a few smoke rings as he gazed at the sky.

“Heh, they really think highly of me—an admiral has come after all. Kizaru… and, huh, Luffy’s grandfather, Garp. I didn’t expect the Navy’s hero to appear. Sengoku must really value me. Hmph.” Rising, Camus retracted his spiritual sense, brushed the dust from his legs, and looked at the approaching warships with another cold sneer.

“Shunpo.” Camus vanished from the rock, reappearing by the sea.

He measured the distance—still about one or two kilometers from the navy fleet. His eyes narrowed.

With a resonant metallic sound, the Purple Emperor left its sheath, which Camus tossed into the ring. He glanced at the blade in his hand, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Hmph! Let me give you a little present first.” His voice was icy.

He gathered his internal energy with full force, channeling it relentlessly into the Purple Emperor in his right hand. The blade trembled and shone with violet radiance.

“Hey, Kizaru, do you think that kid is still on the island?” Garp asked, addressing Kizaru, who lounged nearby.

“Who knows? We’ll find out when we get there. Hey, why’s that big tree on the island gone?” Kizaru looked up at Ohara, noticing the absence of the great tree Camus had taken away, and exclaimed in surprise.

“What’s that? Ah!” Suddenly, a terrified shriek broke out among the sailors—a tremendous arc of violet sword energy slashed across the sea, cleaving through the center of the fleet.

A thunderous explosion followed, and one warship was blown to pieces.

Kizaru and Garp leapt to their feet, staring in shock at the chasm stretching to the sky behind the ship, chills running down their spines.

“What happened? Where did that attack come from?” Kizaru demanded, rising to his feet. Garp stood beside him, looking ahead at the massive island.

“It came from the island ahead, probably sword or blade energy,” a trembling vice admiral stammered.

…

Camus eyed the wreckage of the distant warship and sneered. He had deliberately avoided striking the ship carrying Kizaru and Garp, merely as a warning—a reminder that Airlos D. Camus was still present.

Having delivered his warning, Camus took a drag on his cigarette, flicked it away, stowed the Purple Emperor in his ring, and vanished from the shore with a Shunpo.

An instant later, he appeared high above the left flank of the naval formation; Kizaru and Garp were on the right.

Hovering two thousand meters up, Camus looked down at the warships, still massive from that height. He raised both hands, palms open toward the sky.

“Raijin,” he murmured, as the power of the Thunder-Thunder Fruit surged, gathering above his hands.

“What’s that?” murmurs of confusion rose from the navy below.

“It’s lightning—the power of the Thunder-Thunder Fruit,” Admiral Kizaru recognized it first, staring at the swelling thunderball overhead and the tiny figure below, fury overtaking him. He instantly transformed into light, rising five hundred meters above the fleet and raising his hands. “Light Barrier!” he roared, conjuring a vast golden shield hundreds of meters wide, hoping to withstand Camus’ attack.

Below, Garp was seething. That earlier slash could have destroyed their ship—if not killed him, it would have left him gravely injured. He hadn’t expected this brat to break the rules and attack before even showing himself.

“Begin the mission—open fire on Ohara!” Garp gave the order for the Buster Call. Having confirmed Ohara was deserted, he dared to issue the command; he would have refused otherwise.

…

Camus gazed coldly at the golden barrier below. “You think that will stop me?”

“Ha! Raijin!”

The colossal thunderball, a full kilometer in diameter, thundered down toward the warships. Cold sweat beaded on Kizaru’s brow as he watched it descend, bracing his shield against the onslaught.

“Boom!” Blinding lightning filled the sky, illuminating the terrified faces of the sailors below. The barrier could not fully withstand the attack—lightning lashed several ships beneath, leaving sailors stunned and the vessels badly damaged.

Kizaru appeared atop the main mast of a warship.

In a flash, Camus materialized behind him, launching a sweeping kick at Kizaru’s head. The admiral ducked.

“Tempest Kick!” In the instant he dodged, Kizaru spun in the air, launching his own attack.

Camus evaded effortlessly, vanished with Shunpo, and reappeared with the Purple Emperor in hand.

Kizaru’s pupils contracted in alarm as he barely dodged Camus’ downward slash, shifting into elemental form and vanishing, only to reappear beside Garp, panting hard. That was dangerously close. Few moves had been exchanged, but all within the span of a single second.

Camus glanced at Kizaru, snorted in displeasure, and reappeared on the ship’s rail.

The sudden appearance of Camus on the rail sent the sailors on that ship scrambling away in fear.

Kizaru and Garp stared at the youth with violet hair and red eyes. Though he looked only fourteen or fifteen, the gravity in his gaze was overwhelming.

His strength was nearly on par with Whitebeard—this was the thought that crossed both Kizaru’s and Garp’s minds.

Camus drew out a cigarette, lit it with a crackle of thunder, exhaled a few smoke rings, and grinned. “Heh, you must be an admiral, right? Not bad at all.”

Kizaru’s face twitched. “You must be Airlos D. Camus. Why are you protecting that island?” As an admiral, Kizaru got straight to the point; he needed to know the reason before anything else.

Camus blew another smoke ring, glanced at Kizaru, then shifted his gaze to Garp, who was chewing on a cigar.

“You must be the Navy’s hero, Monkey D. Garp?” Camus’ eyes narrowed slightly. This Garp was fierce—his aura perfectly restrained, far surpassing Kizaru’s.

Seeing Camus ignore his question, Kizaru’s eyes turned icy.

“Haha, kid, hero or not, I’m just Garp. Got something to say?” Garp laughed, then addressed Camus.

“I, Airlos D. Camus, challenge the two of you to a battle, over on that island. If I lose, you can destroy it, but don’t think you’ll ever catch me. Do you dare?” As he finished, Camus unleashed his Conqueror’s Haki, instantly knocking out nearly all the sailors—only Kizaru, Garp, and a few officers remained standing.

Garp and Kizaru exchanged glances, clearly weighing whether to attack together.

“Haha, kid, let me go first! Moonwalk!” Garp laughed and launched himself toward the island that was once Ohara.

Camus vanished with Shunpo.

Kizaru eyed the direction Garp had gone, shifted into light form, and followed.

A fierce battle was about to begin...

…

Apologies for any shortcomings in the battle scene! I hope you’ll support me!

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