Chapter 10: Chapter: X
The Adventure continues!!
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-Somewhere on an in the west Blue-
In the west blue, there existed a city situated on a vast island, starkly divided between the rich and poor. This city, known as Golden Plateau, derived from its name the island was filled with abundant gold that lured the wealthy. Below the city, an unprecedented amount of gold lay hidden, unlike anything ever seen in the west blue. Strangely enough, ever since the discovery of this treasure, rainfall in the region had significantly diminished. Seizing this opportunity, the rich attempted to claim every ounce of gold, defying the very gods themselves.
On a dark and stormy night, rain poured relentlessly, surpassing any previous records. The island's inhabitants had never witnessed such a powerful rainstorm. Although it didn't cause floods, the downpour remained intense.
In the north-western part of the city stood an old warehouse that had once served as a storage facility for a wealthy individual's gold. However, the owner had long left, leaving the warehouse abandoned. Nestled within a shadowy alley, the warehouse thrived with a populace of shady individuals, including beggars, prostitutes, and criminals of all sorts. Despite its rather dull appearance, the warehouse remained structurally intact, featuring a box-like design and a substantial entrance. The windows, though shattered, had been replaced with wooden planks, and the roof showed signs of rusted zinc, indicating the overall dilapidation of the place.
Well, the warehouse had been deserted for years, serving as a hideout for a notorious bandit group known as the "Wisteria Bandits." Led by a towering and robust figure, the bandits had gained infamy throughout the island. Interestingly enough, their leader possessed the strength of a giant, figuratively speaking.
Inside the warehouse, piercing screams and melodic singing mingled together, creating an eerie symphony that echoed through the old structure. The tightly sealed gaps between the boarded windows emitted beams of radiant light, suggesting that something big was happening within the warehouse.
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Just outside the warehouse stood a mysterious figure, cloaked in a long black raincoat that concealed his form from head to shin. His face was obscured by a hood, rendering his face invisible, and his coat extended to his lower legs. Despite the darkness that enveloped him, strands of white hair peeked out from beneath the hood. The only vibrant element about him were his striking blue eyes, which seemed to emit a mesmerizing neon glow, captivating those who caught a glimpse of them.
As the man approached the door, he laid his hand upon it with purpose, his touch emanating an icy chill. With a voice devoid of warmth, he uttered a commanding word, "Freeze."
In an instant, a profound transformation occurred. The door, responding to the man's icy command, underwent a metamorphosis, crystallizing into a solid block of ice. Without hesitation, the man raised his right hand, summoning his formidable strength. With a powerful punch, he shattered the frozen barrier into countless shards, causing them to scatter and glisten in the air like glacial fragments dancing in the light.
..............
-Moments before-
The warehouse was filled with rough and burly men, their movements synchronized as they danced with rum-filled cups in their hands. Clad in rugged, unkempt attire, they exuded an aura of lawlessness, their hips adorned with either pistols or cutlasses hanging from their belts.
The warehouse itself possessed a simplistic layout. Wooden crates were haphazardly arranged in the corners, serving as furniture or storage. This left the center of the space wide open, a blank canvas for the revelry taking place within.
Amidst the lively atmosphere, a circle formed, composed of men who linked arms around each other's shoulders. With boisterous laughter and carefree spirits, they swayed and twirled, their dance embodying a sense of camaraderie amidst the shadows.
Nestled at the rear of the warehouse, perched upon a sturdy crate, sat a solitary figure distinct from the joyfulness that engulfed the rest of the room. Unlike the others who were boisterous, this man exuded an air of detachment, his demeanor overshadowed by a veil of thought. With his back turned to the festivities, he remained secluded, his thoughts seemingly consumed by matters unknown.
Silhouetted against the dimly lit backdrop, the man appeared as a mysterious presence, his features obscured by the shadows that enveloped him. His posture suggested a sense of quiet contemplation, as if he were seeking solace within the sanctuary of his own thoughts. Whether lost in deep reflection or harboring secrets known only to him, his aloofness set him apart from the raucous energy that permeated the rest of the warehouse.
" Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho, Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho, Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho, Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho Gather up all of the crew! It's time to ship out Bink's brew! Sea wind blows. Where? Who knows? The waves will be our guide! across the ocean's tide Rays of sunshine far and wide Birds they sing of cheerful things, in circles passing by! Bid farewell to weaver's tow- "
Just as their voices reached a crescendo, a sudden commotion erupted, shattering the harmony and drowning out their joyful melodies. The atmosphere transformed from one of happiness to anger and confusion.
"Sorry to interrupt your charade," the man's voice sliced through the palpable silence, his words laced with a simmering anger that resonated within the hushed crowd of men. His presence loomed amidst the chaos, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere that had been abruptly halted. Shuffling within the confines of his raincoat, he retrieved a crumpled bounty poster and forcefully flung it towards the group, the paper soaring through the air before landing amidst the swirling confusion.
A moment of stunned silence followed, as the bandits' attention shifted from their disrupted revelry to the crumpled poster that had landed at their feet. Eyes darted across the room, glancing at one another in uneasy curiosity. Whispers, barely audible, began to circulate as they strained to decipher the meaning behind the intruder's words.
From the midst of the bewildered crowd, a voice emerged, belonging to Bandit 'A', who boldly stepped forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his cutlass. With a defiant glare, he directed his words at the mysterious man. "Oh, so you're after the boss's head, aren't you? We can't let that happen, can we?"
Bandit 'A's voice carried a mix of bravado and defiance, an attempt to restore a semblance of control within the chaotic setting. But as his words echoed through the room, a hushed murmur arose among the bandits, exchanged glances revealing their disbelief at the man's lack of fear despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him.
Bandit 'B', standing alongside Bandit 'A', couldn't resist voicing his astonishment. Leaning closer to his companion, he whispered, "Hey, why isn't he running away? It's thirty against one. He's clearly outnumbered." The words, laced with both skepticism and a touch of awe, betrayed Bandit 'B's surprise at the man's unwavering resolve.
Bandit 'A' scoffed at the observation, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "Yeah, well, this kind of thing always happens in those silly manga you read," he retorted, a tinge of mockery lacing his words. He couldn't fathom why the stranger before them seemed unfazed by the odds, even comparing the situation to the fictional tales he dismissed as mere entertainment.
As the bandits engaged in their whispered discourse, the man at the center of their attention, though his facial expressions remained concealed, exuded an air of growing annoyance. The room seemed to tense with the weight of anticipation as he slowly removed his hoodie, allowing the bright light to reveal his features to the onlooking bandits.
With his chiseled jawline, sparkling bright blue eyes, swirling eyebrows, and, most notably, his striking milky white hair, the man's appearance resonated with an otherworldly allure. The revelation of his identity left no room for doubt—this was none other than the enigmatic protagonist known as 'Shiraga Vinsmoke'. The mere sight of him signaled that the unfolding events were far from ordinary, setting the stage for a clash of wills and an unraveling of mysteries yet to be revealed.
" Hey, he looks familiar swear I've seen him before. He looks really young too, I swear I've seen him before... " A flicker of recognition danced across the face of Bandit 'C' as he squinted his eyes, furrowing his brow in an attempt to recollect where he had encountered the man who now stood before them. Rubbing his chin in deep thought, he strained his memory, hoping to unravel the enigma of familiarity.
Meanwhile, Bandit 'A', unimpressed by Bandit 'C's pondering, dismissed the significance of the man's identity with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Doesn't matter if he's a kid," he sneered, his voice dripping with malicious intent. "We'll kill him either way."
The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly charged, a palpable tension enveloping the space as the bandits braced themselves for an impending confrontation. The commotion and whispers faded into the background as all eyes locked onto 'Shiraga Vinsmoke', the boy who had disrupted their revelry and now stood as an obstacle in their path.
With a swift and fluid motion, Shiraga seized the collar of his raincoat, yanking it off and tossing it into the air. As it fluttered above, revealing his attire, the transformation was striking. Clad in a long, black leather jacket adorned with fur at the wrists and collar, he exuded an aura of both elegance and danger.
A crisp white shirt peeked out from beneath the jacket, contrasting against the dark fabric. His ensemble was completed by tight black pants and sturdy combat boots, while a sword, reminiscent of Shanks , was holstered at his hip, a silent testament to his swordsmanship
"Let's dance!" Shiraga's voice reverberated through the room. He assumed a crouched stance, his muscles tensing in preparation. In an instant, he burst forward with lightning speed, leaving behind a trail of cold, misty fog in his wake.
Launching himself into the air, Shiraga dropped down on one of the bandits, landing a crushing blow that sent shock waves through the air. The bandit's head crumbled beneath the impact, the force extinguishing any resistance he may have offered.
Without missing a beat, the bandit behind him swung his cutlass at Shiraga's exposed head. However, with astonishing reflexes, Shiraga snatched the blade from the air, his grip unyielding as he crushed it with his bare hand.
Continuing the fluidity of his movements, Shiraga spun gracefully through the air, executing a powerful roundhouse kick that connected with devastating force against the chest of the unfortunate bandit.
The impact was so tremendous that the bandit was sent hurtling backward, his chest caved in from the sheer power of the blow. In a matter of seconds, Shiraga had made a resounding statement, displaying both his exceptional agility and immense strength. The room trembled with a renewed sense of trepidation as the remaining bandits stared in awe, their initial confidence waning in the face of this formidable adversary.
Shiraga found himself standing in the center, surrounded by the fallen bodies and the chilling evidence of his prowess. Glancing down at his bloodstained boots, a flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
"Dammit, I just bought these shoes too," Shiraga muttered under his breath, scratching his head in frustration. But the brief moment of irritation swiftly faded.
Shiraga raised his right leg, poised to strike. Bringing his foot crashing down upon the ground, a surge of energy coursed through him. The impact of his stomp reverberated through the floor, causing shards of ice to erupt from the ground, encasing his right leg up to the knee in a formidable armor of ice.
The transformation didn't go unnoticed by the remaining bandits, who watched in awe as Shiraga's leg became sheathed in a glacial shield. His gaze hardened, and without hesitation, he charged forward, his movements swift and precise. Each step propelled him closer to the scattered crowd of bandits, a whirlwind of determination and focused power.
The bandits, now acutely aware of the imminent danger that loomed before them, scattered and attempted to regroup. But Shiraga's unyielding resolve and unmatched speed allowed him to close the distance effortlessly. His strikes were a flurry of calculated precision, delivered with a combination of raw strength and honed technique. Bandits fell in his wake, their futile attempts to defend against his onslaught quickly proving to be in vain.
As Shiraga carved his path through the disoriented bandits, his presence grew more commanding, exuding an aura of unwavering dominance. The tide of battle had shifted, and the remaining bandits now faced an adversary whose indomitable spirit and lethal prowess threatened to crush their resistance entirely.
As Shiraga surveyed the aftermath of the massacre he had unleashed, his gaze fell upon the ten remaining bandits, their trembling hands tightly gripping their weapons. Their expressions were a mix of fear and disbelief, realization dawning upon them like a harsh awakening.
"Shit, now I remember! It's the famous bounty hunter 'Killer Ice'," Bandit 'C' exclaimed, his voice quivering with trepidation. The weight of recognition settled heavily upon him, as he comprehended the imminent danger they faced. 'Killer Ice' was renowned for his lethal abilities, even in his advanced age.
"Damn, this kid is a monster! And he's only nine years old," Bandit 'C' added, beads of sweat rolling down his cheek, a testament to his mounting anxiety. The incongruity of such power emanating from one so young left them in awe, grappling with the inconceivable reality before their eyes.
" So! he's just a kid! " However, Bandit 'D' refused to succumb to fear, his bravado fueled by a misguided perception of superiority. Believing Shiraga to be merely a child, he raised his pistol, his finger tightening on the trigger. Rapid fire erupted from his weapon, a hailstorm of bullets aimed to tear through him, seeking to fill him with fatal wounds.
But Shiraga's reaction was nothing short of remarkable. His eyes narrowed, his concentration sharpening as he deftly maneuvered through the air, his movements a blur of agility and precision. He navigated the barrage of bullets with uncanny dexterity.
Each bullet whizzed past him, missing their intended target by a hair's breadth. The display of mastery over his own body and the control he exerted over his surroundings . Shiraga closed the distance between himself and Bandit 'D', his ice-clad leg propelling him forward in a burst of speed.
As he neared his target, the air around Shiraga crackled with an intense chill. With a swift motion, he reached out, his hand surrounded by a freezing aura, and grabbed Bandit 'D's pistol, wrenching it from his grasp. The bandit's eyes widened in disbelief, frozen in fear.
"Hmm, don't you know? You don't bring a gun to a sword fight," Shiraga taunted, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, as Bandit 'D' attempted to justify his ill-fated decision.
" It's all good bro! my finger slipped and pulled the trigge---- " Before Bandit 'D' could finish his sentence, Shiraga's swift movement severed his head from his body, sending them tumbling to the ground. The gruesome scene unfolded in a split second, leaving the remaining bandits frozen in a mixture of horror and disbelief.
"Anybody else?" Shiraga's voice resonated with an icy calmness as he crushed the frozen gun in his hand, a visual reminder of the futility of their attempts to kill him. The bandits, their fear overwhelming any shred of bravado they once possessed, scrambled towards the exit, their sole focus being on escape, even if it meant being in the relentless downpour outside.
But Shiraga had no intention of letting them slip away so easily. The air around him thickened with a dense mist. He gripped his blade tightly. With a fluid motion, he swung his sword through the air at blurring speeds, shards of ice flying from the blade with deadly accuracy.
The shards found their mark, piercing the backs and heads of the fleeing bandits, their anguished cries filling the air. The combination of Shiraga's swift strikes and the freezing mist turned their escape route into a treacherous battlefield, trapping them within an icy onslaught.
In their desperation, the bandits stumbled and fell, their bodies succumbing to the merciless barrage. The warehouse became a scene of chaos, the once boisterous and rowdy gathering reduced to a macabre spectacle of defeat. The frozen mist slowly dissipated, revealing Shiraga standing amidst the fallen.
.............
"So, you're going to stop watching me kill your men, or are you going to come out already?" Shiraga's voice carried a tone of challenge as he turned his head to the man who had remained seated on the crate, his back turned.
"Hahahaha, you did me a favor. I found those shitheads annoying anyway," the man responded, rising from his seat and turning to face Shiraga. Stepping out of the shadows, he was revealed in the full brilliance of the light.
The man stood shirtless, his muscular physique commanding attention. His broad chest, wide shoulders, and sculpted abs spoke of physical prowess, while his body was adorned with countless scars, testaments to battles fought and survived. His long black hair cascaded down his back, reaching his waist, adding to his imposing presence. Towering at a staggering height of 7'8 feet, he was an intimidating figure. Baggy brown pants adorned his lower body, contrasting with his bare upper half. And firmly grasped in his hand was a massive great sword, a weapon befitting his formidable stature.
As he stepped forward, the weight of his presence seemed to fill the room. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, both fighters keenly aware of the imminent clash between their formidable skills. Shiraga's eyes locked onto his opponent, studying him with a mix of caution and curiosity.
The atmosphere grew charged, the anticipation palpable. Two powerful warriors, each with their own unique strength, faced each other, ready to test their mettle in an epic confrontation. The echoes of the battle that had just taken place faded into the background, overshadowed by the imminent clash that would determine the fate of this encounter.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Damn, what a chapter indeed well let's see what happens in the next chapter. Who knows Shiraga might die.
Lol
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