Chapter 239: Dressrosa - 13
Robin walked out of the Colosseum’s shadow. The afternoon sun beat down on the cobblestone streets. Princess Rebecca followed closely behind her, clutching her unsharpened sword.
Bartolomeo brought up the rear. He walked exactly twenty paces behind them, biting his fingernails down to the quick. His face flushed a deep, violent crimson. He crossed his fingers, maintaining a transparent, invisible soundproof barrier around himself so his manic squeals would not disturb his idols.
*Nico Robin,* Bartolomeo thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. *The Light of the Revolution! The sole survivor of Ohara! She walks with such elegance! Such poise! I am unworthy to step on the same cobblestones!*
A piece of debris fell from a burning building above them. Bartolomeo panicked. He instantly cast a curved barrier above Robin’s head. The debris bounced off harmlessly. Robin did not even break her stride. She simply smiled a little.
Bartolomeo fell to his knees, tears cascading down his face. *She noticed! She smiled! I can die today! I have peaked!*
The streets of Dressrosa spiraled into chaos. Citizens ran. Fire and smoke plumed from the commercial district. This was the effect of Pica fight with Chooper and Bonney.
Robin stopped at a wide intersection. She checked the mental map she had memorized from the city’s layout. "King Riku is held at the old King’s Plateau. We need to cross the main bridge."
Footsteps hammered against the stone. Heavy, rhythmic, and incredibly fast.
A massive man rounded the corner. He wore a gladiator’s cape. He carried a heavy, oversized broadsword. He moved with explosive speed, hopping entirely on a single leg.
Rebecca froze. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her hands trembled. Her unsharpened sword slipped from her grip and clattered against the stone street.
The massive man stopped. He looked at the group. His eyes swept past Robin and Bartolomeo. He locked onto the pink-haired princess.
"Rebecca," Kyros whispered.
"Father!" Rebecca screamed.
She sprinted forward. She ignored the burning buildings. She ignored the screams of the rioting citizens. She slammed into his broad chest, wrapping her arms around his thick neck. Tears streamed down her face, soaking into his red cape.
Kyros dropped his broadsword. The heavy steel cracked the pavement. He wrapped his massive, muscular arms around her, burying his face in her pink hair. He cried openly. He did not try to hide it.
"I am sorry," Rebecca sobbed, her fingers digging into his back. "I forgot you! I forgot my own father! I fought in that ring for years, and I didn’t even know who I was fighting for!"
"No," Kyros said, his voice cracking violently. He pulled back just enough to look at her face. He wiped her tears with his calloused thumb. "Do not apologize. Never apologize for surviving."
"But I forgot your face!" Rebecca cried, grabbing his hand.
"Doflamingo stole my existence," Kyros said, his tears falling onto her armor. "For ten years, I was made of tin. I stood beside you in the rain, and I could not feel the water. You cried, and I could not wipe your tears because my hands were made of cold metal. I watched you grow from the corner of my eye. I taught you to fight because I could not hold you."
Rebecca buried her face in his chest again. "You protected me."
"I failed to protect your mother," Kyros choked. "I failed to protect my king. But I watched you live. You grew strong. You kept your kindness in a city of lies. That is my greatest victory, Rebecca. You are my greatest victory."
Robin looked away, giving them their moment. She crossed her arms, a soft, melancholy smile playing on her lips. She remembered Saul. She remembered the feeling of losing everything, and the miracle of getting it back.
Bartolomeo, however, completely lost his composure. He lay flat on the ground, pounding the pavement with his fists, crying waterfalls of tears. "So beautiful! Such a pure, untainted display of youth and family! I will follow them to the ends of the earth! I will build a shrine to this moment!"
Kyros picked up his sword. He wiped his face. He looked at Robin and bowed his head deeply.
"I do not know your crew well," Kyros said, his voice steadying. "But I know what you did today. You broke the curse. You gave me my humanity back. You gave me my daughter back. I owe the Straw Hat Pirates a debt my blood can never repay."
"Save your thanks for our captain," Robin stated calmly. "We have a Warlord to dethrone. Your father in law is at the plateau. Let’s move."
Kyros nodded. "Follow me. I know the shortcuts."
They ran through the winding alleys. They bypassed the main riots, slipping through narrow passages between the stone houses. They reached the base of the plateau. A long, winding stone staircase led up to the top.
A shadow dropped from the sky.
The figure landed in the center of the path. Dust kicked up from the impact. An elderly man stood before them. He wore a blue, skin-tight martial arts uniform. He hunched over, his hands resting on his knees as if he could barely support his own weight. He breathed heavily.
"You... you broke the young master’s toys," the old man rasped.
He suddenly straightened his back. His joints popped loudly. He threw his arms up, forming his hands into a distinct, curved letter shape above his head.
"THERE’S THE G!" Lao G shouted.
Kyros stepped forward. He gripped his broadsword with both hands. "Lao G. A top executive."
"You are not going any further," Lao G stated. He dropped his arms and shifted into a low martial arts stance. "Jio-Ken. Earth Fist. I will shatter your bones and bury you in this dirt."
Kyros looked back at Robin and Rebecca. "Go. Take the side path up the cliff. I will handle him."
"Father, no!" Rebecca argued, grabbing his cape. "He’s an executive! You only have one leg! You can’t fight him alone!"
Kyros smiled over his shoulder. He patted her hand. "I won three thousand matches in the Colosseum with two legs. I only need one to kill a Donquixote officer. Go."
Robin didn’t hesitate. "Move," she ordered Bartolomeo.
Robin crossed her arms. "Cien Fleur: Wing." Hundreds of hands sprouted from her back, forming massive wings. She grabbed Rebecca by the waist and took to the sky, bypassing the stairs entirely.
Bartolomeo cast a barrier stairwell. He ran up the invisible steps into the air, shouting, "Leave him to his glorious duel! We must not interrupt a man’s resolve!"
Lao G blurred forward. He didn’t run; he glided across the stone. He aimed a palm strike directly at Rebecca’s retreating form in the sky.
*Clang.*
Kyros intercepted. He swung his broadsword down, catching Lao G’s palm on the flat of the heavy blade. The impact cracked the stone beneath Kyros’s single foot.
"Your fight is with me," Kyros growled.
"Fool," Lao G scoffed.
Lao G spun. He kicked Kyros in the chest. Kyros slid back, his heel carving a trench in the dirt. He didn’t fall. He used the momentum of the slide to spin his entire body like a top. The heavy broadsword carried his weight, acting as a pendulum. He slashed horizontally.
Lao G leaned back. The blade cut a few white hairs from his beard. He stepped inside Kyros’s guard. He unleashed a barrage of rapid-fire punches.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
Lao G struck Kyros’s ribs, chest, and shoulder. He didn’t punch to break skin; he punched to shatter organs. He aimed for nerve clusters.
Kyros roared. He ignored the pain. He dropped his shoulder and rammed it into Lao G’s chest like a battering ram. The martial artist flew backward, skidding across the dirt path.
Kyros hopped forward, covering ground instantly. His single leg possessed the strength of a hydraulic press. He raised the sword high. He brought it down like a guillotine.
Lao G shifted his stance. He brought both palms together, catching the edge of the broadsword between his hands. The air cracked. The sheer force of Kyros’s swing buckled Lao G’s knees, driving the old man’s feet into the ground.
"You have raw strength, gladiator," Lao G grunted, veins popping on his forehead. "But you lack discipline. Jio-Ken: Back Pain Stance!"
Lao G twisted his waist. He redirected the sword’s downward energy into the ground. He swept his leg, aiming directly for Kyros’s only foot.
Kyros jumped. He used the flat of his own sword as a vaulting pole, pushing off the ground. He kicked Lao G in the jaw with his single foot, flipping backward in the air and landing perfectly balanced.
Lao G spit a tooth. He wiped blood from his chin. He stopped hunching over. He stood completely straight.
"You survived the toy transformation," Lao G said. "You kept your muscles. But ten years of rust still coats your bones. You fight with desperation. I fight with decades of refined technique. I will show you true martial arts."
Lao G inhaled. He didn’t stop inhaling. His chest expanded. His muscles swelled beneath his uniform. The wrinkles on his skin stretched out and vanished. He grew taller, broader, and infinitely more menacing. His blue uniform tightened against a physique that looked chiseled from solid granite.
"Battle Preservation Fist," Lao G boomed. His voice sounded decades younger, vibrating with raw power. "I have stored my youth and strength for emergencies. You face me at my prime!"
Lao G vanished.
Kyros widened his eyes. He raised his sword on pure gladiator instinct.
Lao G appeared directly in front of him. He punched the center of the broadsword.
The heavy steel blade bent backward. The shockwave traveled up Kyros’s arms, dislocating his left shoulder instantly. Kyros launched backward, flying through the air. He crashed through a stone wall and rolled violently into the ruins of an old courtyard.
Kyros coughed blood. He forced himself up onto his knee. He grabbed his left arm. He popped his shoulder back into its socket with a sickening crunch. He didn’t scream.
Lao G walked slowly through the hole in the wall. "Stay down. You are crippled."
Kyros tightened his grip on the hilt. He thought about Scarlett. He thought about the rain. He thought about his wife bleeding out in the flower fields while he stood there, trapped in a toy body, unable to apply pressure to her wounds.
"I am not crippled," Kyros spat blood onto the stones. He stood up on his one leg. "I am unburdened."
Lao G rushed forward. He threw a right hook aimed at Kyros’s skull. It carried the force of a cannonball.
Kyros didn’t block. He pivoted on his heel, dodging the punch by a single millimeter. The wind from the punch cut his cheek. Kyros swung his sword in a tight, upward arc, aiming to disembowel the martial artist.
Lao G twisted his torso in mid-air, dodging the blade. He brought his elbow down like an anvil, aiming for Kyros’s neck.
Kyros dropped. He let gravity pull him down. He fell backward, planting his hands on the ground. He kicked his one leg straight up, planting his foot squarely in Lao G’s stomach. Using the martial artist’s own downward momentum, Kyros pushed. He flipped Lao G over his head, sending the executive crashing into a marble pillar.
The pillar collapsed. Tons of stone buried Lao G in rubble.
Kyros didn’t stop. He hopped forward, bringing his sword back for a finishing strike.
The rubble exploded outward. Lao G leaped out, furious. His aura flared, visibly distorting the air around him. He channeled all his preserved youth and energy into his right fist.
"G-no-Ken: Supreme Earth Shatter!" Lao G screamed. He dove toward Kyros from the sky like a meteor.
Kyros closed his eyes. He exhaled. He found his center. He stopped hopping. He stood perfectly still on his single leg. He let his gladiator instincts take over entirely. He didn’t see an executive; he saw an opponent in the ring. He analyzed the trajectory, the speed, and the weight of the incoming attack.
Kyros opened his eyes. He swung his broadsword. He didn’t aim for the incoming fist. He aimed for the man behind it.
"Trueno Bastardo!"
The attacks collided.
Lao G’s fist struck Kyros squarely in the chest. Ribs shattered. Internal organs ruptured. Blood exploded from Kyros’s mouth.
But Kyros’s sword struck true. The heavy steel blade cleaved straight through Lao G’s protective aura. It sliced diagonally across his chest, cutting deep into muscle and bone.
Silence fell over the courtyard.
Lao G stood frozen. The preserved youth drained from his body in an instant. His muscles deflated like a popped balloon. His deep wrinkles returned. He shrank back into a frail old man. He looked down at the massive, bleeding gash across his torso.
His eyes rolled back in his head.
"There’s... the... G," Lao G whispered.
He collapsed face-first onto the cobblestones. He did not move again.
Kyros stood victorious. He swayed violently on his foot. Blood poured from his mouth and chest. He jammed his broadsword into the ground and used it as a cane, leaning his entire weight onto the hilt to keep himself upright.
He looked up at the King’s Plateau looming above the city. He wiped the blood from his chin.
"I am coming, King Riku," Kyros breathed heavily.
He gripped his sword, pulled it from the stone, and began the long, agonizing climb up the stairs.
