Chapter 145: Moria's Choice

Although Absalom’s body had been enhanced and modified by Doctor Hogback, possessing the toughness of an elephant, the strength of a bear, and the agility of a lion, he still looked as insignificant as an ant before the furious Garen.

Pushing his beast-like physique to its absolute limits, Absalom could only manage to barely hold his ground against Garen by utilizing the narrow and convoluted terrain of the sailing ship.

"Trying to play ring-around-the-rosy with me?"

Garen sneered coldly, channeling the flames of the "Wrath of Justice" on his greatsword to their absolute limit.

"Slash!"

At that very instant, Garen’s signature fiery sword aura expanded to its maximum. A sharp crescent wave, dozens of meters wide, instantly swallowed every obstacle on the ship higher than the deck.

The masts, cabins, and sails were all engulfed in a sea of fire, instantly obliterated by the extreme heat and reduced to piles of charcoal within a fraction of a second.

Moria’s zombie soldiers were inherently terrified of fire. Confronted with Garen’s searing golden holy flames, they were as fragile as thin paper, turning into heaps of black ash the moment they made the slightest contact.

The deck, which had previously retained several obstacles, was swept clean by Garen’s horizontal slash, turning into a flat expanse with a wide-open field of vision.

Absalom’s terrified expression, carrying a look of despair, appeared vividly right in front of Garen:

"W-Why are you chasing me?"

Garen’s cold eyes narrowed, displaying a sharp brilliance reminiscent of Dracule Mihawk:

"Why?"

"Just for your wretched nature alone, you deserve to die!"

"I, I..."

Absalom’s face turned crimson, but he was completely speechless.

He was indeed no decent person; the abilities of the Clear-Clear Fruit were used by this wretched fellow primarily as a tool to peep at women bathing.

His closely guarded, unspeakable nature was seen through at a single glance by this strange knight, leaving Absalom slightly panicked. Meanwhile, the undisguised, towering killing intent in Garen’s eyes sent a chill straight down Absalom’s spine.

Before the standoff could last much longer, Garen’s figure transformed into a ghostly phantom amidst the whistling roar of torn air. Propelled by the Six Powers technique "Shave," he dashed toward Absalom at lightning speed.

At the same time, a thunderous roar exploded through the air:

"Neither you nor that obscene little brat is getting away!"

Absalom’s vision turned dark.

He truly had no idea where he had offended the god of slaughter before him, nor did he know who this other obscene little brat capable of being mentioned alongside him was.

The only thing he knew was: if he didn’t run now, he was dead meat!

The power of the Clear-Clear Fruit activated instantly, and the beastly strength within Absalom’s modified body, driven by terror, pushed past its limits to erupt with unprecedented explosive power. A shrill, desperate scream suddenly echoed across the ship:

"Lord Moria, save me!"

The Clear-Clear Fruit lived up to its legendary reputation; Absalom’s figure vanished from Garen’s field of vision in a flash.

What made matters worse was that Absalom’s devil fruit ability was judged by the system as being in a "stealth state," causing Garen’s guaranteed-hit sword strike to instantly lose its target lock.

However, this was still not enough to stump Garen.

Even without relying on guaranteed-hit basic attacks, he could still display the elegance of a master swordsman through his own supreme control and well-practiced swordsmanship.

Though Absalom’s body was invisible, his heavy footsteps and ragged breathing were as clear as a candle in the dark to Garen’s formidable sense of hearing.

Without needing Color of Observation Haki, Garen could capture Absalom’s hidden body in the transparent air using merely his five senses.

He pretended not to notice, deliberately gazing in the wrong direction.

Absalom was clearly bluffed by Garen’s reaction, momentarily lowering his guard and slowing his frantic pace of escape.

Then, without even looking, Garen casually hurled the greatsword in his hand toward the side.

Before the whistling sound of the greatsword piercing the air had faded, the muffled thud of tearing flesh rang out.

Surging blood spurted forth, outlining a bloody humanoid figure in the air along Absalom’s transparent body.

"Ah!"

Accompanied by a cry of agony, Absalom’s body was firmly nailed to the ground by the flying greatsword, and the power of the Clear-Clear Fruit instantly failed amidst the excruciating pain of his severe wounds.

"Return!"

Without a shred of mercy, Garen summoned the greatsword back from a distance.

Lacking the blockage of the blade, the wide wound on Absalom’s body bled like a gushing fountain, the color draining from his face into pale whiteness at a visible rate.

Dragging his greatsword, Garen walked slowly toward the dying Absalom. The blood dripping continuously from the blade onto the deck made light sounds resembling a countdown to life.

With no further idle chatter, Garen, determined to kill, slowly raised the greatsword in his hand.

Yet, just as the blade was about to descend, a swarm of dark-shadow bats fluttered chaotically, blocking the path of Garen’s greatsword and preventing the sharp blade from advancing even an inch further.

"You cannot kill him."

A dark shadow enveloped Garen from behind.

Garen turned around and saw Moria’s tall frame, still covered in red and black wounds, along with his two blood-red, man-devouring eyes.

"What?"

Garen was not intimidated by Moria; instead, the corners of his mouth curled up in a mocking sneer:

"Decided not to run and beg the Marines for help anymore?"

"..."

Moria fell silent for a moment, then clenched his fists tightly and shouted with a trembling voice:

"Perona!"

"Take the lifeboat to that Marine vessel, and in my name as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, ask the Marines for reinforcements!"

A trace of astonishment surfaced in Garen’s eyes as he looked at Moria, while Perona was also slightly stunned, unable to react for a moment.

Although the Seven Warlords of the Sea were viewed by outsiders as lackeys of the World Government and officially described as allies of the Marines, they were, in reality, pirates maintaining a neutral status.

These Warlords took pride in being pirates, each maintaining an independent sphere of influence, and would never give a pleasant expression to their nominal allies.

For someone like Moria to previously use the Marines' name as a bluff to protect himself was already considered the utmost humiliation for a pirate.

And yet, for Moria to now genuinely use the title of "Seven Warlord of the Sea" to seek the protection of their Marine allies could be said to be brazen beyond belief.

Even though Moria had fallen from a supernova of the New World into a roadside bandit, he had never imagined he would experience such a humiliating day.

And yet, he did it anyway.

"Don't just stand there, Perona!"

Moria’s voice was somewhat hoarse, filled with a despondent yet uniquely resolute determination:

"I saved the three of you..."

"Not so that you could die here!!"

"Lord Moria..."

Perona dimly sensed the fighting spirit erupting from Moria within this desperate situation, and murmured involuntarily:

"But..."

"Go!"

Moria’s eyes were bloodshot to the brim, making him look like an evil ghost:

"Absalom is not going to hold on much longer!"

Absalom clutched his chest, his breathing as difficult and heavy as a broken bellows.

He lacked the strength to speak further, collapsing weakly to the ground as he watched the cluster of dark bats tightly guarding him with the complex gaze of a dying man.

"Yes!"

Perona nodded heavily, then turned and ran toward the lifeboat with a few zombie soldiers.

Garen did not stop them from leaving, merely looking with curiosity at this big man who had suddenly summoned the courage to stand in his way:

"I recall that you supposedly preferred zombie subordinates, don't you?"

"Why do you suddenly care to save this fellow now?"

A storm of turbulent emotions churned within Moria’s heart, but he ultimately remained silent:

He indeed preferred unkillable zombies, and had never truly regarded Absalom and the others, whom he recruited later, as genuine companions.

His true companions had long since died in the New World.

Yet, at the critical moment when the island was sinking, Moria had made a choice that even he himself had not expected.

And it was the same now.

"You cannot kill him."

A surge of dark shadows rippled across Moria’s body, solidifying into the most reliable shield and the sharpest weapon upon his robust frame.

This was the close-combat application of his devil fruit ability; it had been a long time since he had used his power in this manner.

Yet, driven to such a dead end, Moria had no other choice.

The more desperate and cornered this choice was, the more headaches it caused Garen:

He wasn't afraid of flashy and ornate techniques; madmen like this, driven to the edge yet still retaining their fighting spirit and wanting to engage in close combat with him, were the true trouble.

Crocodile had already made Garen taste such bitterness before his death.

Garen looked somewhat helplessly at Absalom, who was hiding far away under the protection of Moria’s shadow clone, feeling rather displeased.

Even so, he withdrew his sharp gaze from Absalom, facing Moria squarely as a tenacious enemy standing before him with flesh and blood:

"Looks like this is going to be a protracted battle."

Garen let out a light sigh, then murmured with a hint of self-mockery:

"Sigh, and I said I wouldn't use this stance..."

"Turtle Stance!"

The phantom of the spirit turtle silently emerged, blazing with a surge of green light.