Chapter 126: She Is Still Just a Child

Garen’s justice is judged by Garen’s sword and determined by Garen’s own sense of right and wrong. Yet, the final wielder of the blade remains Garen himself. Because the one holding the sword is human, it inevitably means that the act of striking—or withholding—is subject to human bias. Therefore, true fairness has never existed.

For instance, Garen did not strike Buggy down immediately not because he believed Buggy was innocent, but because Buggy had "people behind him." In this world where appearances matter, beautiful women naturally receive preferential treatment. Given Miss Valentine’s foul personality and cold-blooded actions, had she been ugly, Garen would have delivered a "Judgment of Justice" without a second thought. Yet, as it stood, Garen shook his head with some regret for this bad woman whose character failed her looks: "What a pity."

Still, Miss Valentine’s actions had ultimately crossed Garen’s threshold of tolerance for beautiful women. The greatsword descended. Blood evaporated against the flames of the blade, leaving no trace behind.

"Two more..." Garen murmured as he slowly retracted his sword. He turned to find the remaining stragglers, only to discover one of his targets standing right in front of him: Mr. 2 Bon Clay.

His arms were covered in countless tiny lacerations, and patches of his skin were scorched a dark, angry red. He looked utterly wretched. His bizarre okama attire had been charred black by the flames, stripping away the only mental weapon Bon Clay had to threaten Garen.

"Did you not take the chance to run away?" Garen asked, not rushing to strike, but watching the enemy who still dared to stand before him with keen interest. "You should know you can't beat me."

"Hahaha..." Bon Clay let out an exaggerated laugh. His twisted expression, paired with his already rugged features, was enough to make even the careless Garen wince, despite the loss of his heavy makeup. Bon Clay then performed a dramatic,原地 ballet spin before finally answering: "I am a 'Newkama' who adheres to the 'Way of the Okama'!"

"I would never fear a stinking man like you!"

Though he had expected as much, Garen couldn't help but cover his face in frustration: "What the hell is the 'Way of the Okama'...? What has happened to this world that such a sect has been passed down?"

Bon Clay’s eyes lit up, and he smirked as he began to explain: "Boy, the so-called 'Way of the Okama' is..."

"Enough." Garen cut off the nonsense without mercy and pointed out to the sea. There, a little girl with pigtails, wearing a red cap and carrying a sketching box, her clothes wet and disheveled, was desperately rowing a broken piece of a ship's hull toward the open ocean.

"If you want to stall for time, you should at least use better techniques," Garen said, sounding somewhat depressed. "Why would I be interested in your 'Way of the Okama'?"

"You!" Bon Clay’s expression froze, and he reacted instantly: "Okama Kenpo: Okama Long Sword!"

The muscles in his legs erupted with immense power, and a bare, hairy leg swung forward, accelerating with such force that it tore through the air like a blade, aiming straight for Garen’s chest. Garen didn't care much for the leg technique, but the sheer amount of leg hair made his scalp crawl.

"Soru!" Garen was so unnerved by the proximity of that hairy leg that he immediately resorted to the Marine Six Styles.

Bon Clay’s assault did not stop; that intimidating, hairy leg lashed out again like a viper. In such a life-or-death moment, Garen could not hold back. He swung his greatsword, shattering the bone in Bon Clay’s leg, forcing the man—who had been lunging at him with such tenacity—to collapse to the ground in pain.

"That was close." Once safe, Garen felt a lingering sense of unease.

Bon Clay ignored his own injuries and shouted to Miss Goldenweek, who was frantically paddling her raft in the distance: "Row faster! I can't hold him off much longer!"

The voice carried clearly across the water to Miss Goldenweek. Her small frame shuddered, and her paddling faltered.

"Keep going!" Bon Clay screamed at the top of his lungs. Miss Goldenweek finally seemed to steel her resolve and began to row with all her might. But she was a small girl with short arms and little strength as a painter; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pick up speed. To Garen, the raft carrying Miss Goldenweek looked as slow as a turtle.

Garen did not rush to pursue, but instead spoke to the collapsed Bon Clay: "Is she your friend?"

"No," Bon Clay replied, happy to use words to stall for more time. "We aren't partners. I've only seen her twice at the Works meetings."

"Then why risk your life for her?" Garen asked, puzzled.

Bon Clay’s charred face was filled with determination as he replied earnestly: "Miss Goldenweek is different from us. We are professional assassins who deserve to die, but she is just a young painter who went astray. She shouldn't die here."

Bon Clay struggled to his feet, using his bloodied leg to support his battered body. "I'm not helping her out of friendship, but because I want to. If you want to kill her, you'll have to go through me first!"

"Hmm..." Garen pondered for a moment, then looked past Bon Clay toward Miss Goldenweek. He stomped his feet, using the high-speed movement of Soru, and then used the air as a springboard to leap into the sky.

Bon Clay felt a blur before his eyes, and Garen vanished. He spun around, only to see in horror that Garen was stepping on the air, pursuing the fleeing Miss Goldenweek.

Miss Goldenweek was, after all, a frail young girl. No matter how hard she rowed, she could not escape Garen as he closed the distance using Geppo. In no time, Garen snatched her small body up like an eagle grabbing a chick and carried her back to the ship.

The emotionless Miss Goldenweek was naturally cold; even when dangled by Garen, she only showed a flicker of panic in her eyes, neither crying, begging, nor screaming. Her reaction made the young painter, who looked no older than an elementary school student, seem even more pitiful.

Seeing the girl held in Garen’s hand, Bon Clay pounded the floor, tears streaming down his face. Robin, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally stepped forward, frowning as she spoke in a low voice: "Garen, enough! You’ve killed enough people."

Garen glanced at Robin and retorted: "The ship is only so big. You couldn't have missed this girl trying to escape. It seems you aren't as loyal to me as you claim?"

Robin’s expression stiffened, and her gaze toward Garen became timid. She didn't understand why Garen was so intent on killing these high-ranking agents, but this side of him made her feel a sense of wariness and dread similar to when she faced Crocodile. Garen’s pointed question made her heart race with anxiety. She briefly worried that this "Death Knight" had only taken her in as a facade, and that his true goal was to wipe out her and the other agents to satisfy his twisted, bloodthirsty desires.

But just as her tension reached its peak, the previously murderous Garen suddenly laughed: "What are you worried about? I'm not some mindless serial killer. Why would I lay a hand on a girl who hasn't even finished elementary school?"

"You..." Robin started to speak but stopped, glancing at the fresh corpses scattered across the deck.

"Those were enemies, professional assassins. There is no injustice in their deaths," Garen explained earnestly, then looked down at the little girl in his