Chapter 10: So This… Is What They Call Justice!

Each of Cook's punches should have carried the force of a cannonball, but due to his injuries and drained stamina, their power had dropped significantly. It left him feeling frustrated and furious.

"Trying to run again like a coward? Go ahead. Keep running. Who knows how many of your townspeople will still be breathing in a few more minutes?"

Cook lunged with another punch, but this time, Wood didn't dodge. Gritting his teeth, he glanced toward the wounded and dying civilians, then gripped his blade and charged straight in.

Clang——!

The clash of metal rang out as Wood raised his right arm to meet Cook's blow with his sword. The impact sent a thunderous pressure down his arm—he could feel the bones groaning under the strain, moments away from snapping.

His left arm was already broken and dislocated, offering no help.

Just as his right arm reached its limit, Wood suddenly raised his right leg and stomped on the spine of the blade itself. Using the momentum and leverage, he deflected Cook's punch upward and away.

Cook blinked in shock. He had expected the brat to dodge or get sent flying. He hadn't expected him to deflect his punch like this, using his own leg as leverage to counter the strength difference.

But Wood's clever trick only bought him a moment.

Cook still had his left arm—and while it wasn't as strong as his dominant hand, it was more than enough to crush someone already battered and worn.

Seeing Wood charge right into his range, Cook twisted into a sweeping strike, aiming a full-force left hook straight into Wood's ribs—trying to crush his kidney in one go.

But Wood didn't dodge. He didn't flinch. His expression twisted into something terrifying.

Just as Cook had said: the longer this fight dragged on, the worse it would get for Wood—not for his own sake, but for the people of Red Maple Island.

Most of the original townsfolk had already fled in the wake of repeated pirate raids. The ones still here were the elderly, women, children, and a few who couldn't bring themselves to abandon the island they loved.

They couldn't possibly stand up to seasoned pirates.

If he delayed even a minute longer, more innocent lives would be lost.

This battle couldn't go on any longer.

Instead of evading, Wood drove his knee directly into Cook's punch.

Crack——!

The result was instant and devastating. Wood's kneecap shattered on impact against Cook's iron-armored gauntlet. The pain was so intense that blood seeped from between Wood's clenched teeth.

But before Cook could grin in triumph, Wood leapt again—using only his remaining leg—and flung himself straight at Cook.

His eyes burned with murderous determination. Veins bulged beneath the skin of his sword arm.

"One-Sword Style: Iron-Cleaving Slash!"

Cook, caught mid-swing, was off balance. Seeing Wood soar toward him, madness in his eyes, Cook's face twisted in horror.

"You lunatic! You monster!"

A shattered kneecap should have ended any normal man's fight. The pain alone would have rendered them unconscious.

But this teenager—this kid—moved like someone who didn't even know what pain was.

Cook couldn't understand it. How could someone so young fight with such terrifying willpower?

A streak of silver light tore through the air. In a panic, Cook raised his armored arm to block—but it wasn't enough.

The blade sliced clean through the iron bracer and the limb beneath it.

It didn't stop there.

A deep gash split his throat open, blood erupting from the wound in a torrential spray.

Cook tried to lift his remaining hand to stem the flow, but it was useless. The blood gushed out too fast, too violently. His consciousness began to slip away, and his gaze toward Wood lost focus.

As Cook collapsed in a pool of his own blood, Wood also crashed to the ground—his body unable to support itself any longer.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood. The blade in his hand snapped in half.

That sword had never been anything special—just something he'd taken from a pirate who raided the island months ago. After taking so many blows and delivering one final Iron-Cleaving Slash, it had reached its limit.

Wood glanced at Cook's corpse, then turned his eyes toward the other side of the battlefield, where townspeople continued to fall.

He forced himself up with the broken blade as a crutch and limped forward.

But after only a few steps, his vision swam, his limbs trembled, and the world began to fade around him.

And then—

"You're a remarkable kid. Maybe your strength isn't extraordinary, but your willpower… I've never seen anything like it."

A deep, booming voice echoed in his ears. Through the fog of his fading sight, Wood saw a tall man in a white coat emblazoned with the word Justice cradle him gently.

"I wasn't even half as strong as you when I was your age. You've done more than enough. Leave the rest to me."

The man's voice was firm, full of vitality.

It was Zephyr.

He had arrived just in time to witness Wood's final act—the moment he made the ultimate sacrifice to protect others.

With a single glance, Zephyr could tell that if Wood had paced the fight carefully, he could've won with far fewer injuries. But instead, he'd thrown everything away—his safety, his body—for the sake of protecting people he didn't even know.

At first, Zephyr had assumed it was inexperience. But when he saw the boy dragging his shattered body toward the civilians, using a broken blade to stand… even after decades in the Navy, Zephyr felt a deep stirring in his chest.

This boy, with nothing but his own will, had upheld justice with his life.

So this… this is what they call justice.