Chapter 123: Competition – Manual Funny Vista!

Chapter 123: Competition – Manual Funny Vista!

As Kuina's wind-infused blade slashed downward, a turbulent force field formed around her. With every swing, the force field intensified, each strike feeding power into the next.

Before long, her attacks grew sharper, faster, more devastating.

Vista, standing across from her, was no longer as relaxed as when the match began. He was starting to feel the pressure.

This girl... she's just a crew member? Not even a captain?

If he actually lost here, in front of Whitebeard no less, it would be more than just personal embarrassment—it would bring shame to the entire Whitebeard Pirates.

Clang!

Another of Kuina's strikes was deflected, metal ringing loud through the air. Vista countered, readying himself for a strong counterattack—

—but Kuina had already leapt back, sheath in hand, blade now stilled.

"I concede," Kuina said calmly, cupping her hands in a traditional gesture of respect. "That last blow was my strongest. If this were a real fight, it wouldn't go much further."

Vista nearly coughed up blood on the spot.

What kind of concession is that?!

She made it sound like if this were a real, no-holds-barred fight, he'd already be dead. And honestly... she wasn't wrong. She had pressured him the entire time.

Of course, he hadn't used his full strength. They weren't enemies, just sparring. But her little declaration basically gave him a hollow win—victory in name, defeat in spirit.

"You really are a super rookie from the Grand Line," Vista muttered. "Your ship's full of monsters."

He turned to Ryuunosuke. "Captain, I'd like to spar with you next."

Before Ryuunosuke could respond, another voice chimed in.

"Let me go, Ryuunosuke!" Akame stepped forward, grinning as she held the sheathed Murasame in her hand. "Can I fight next?"

Vista raised an eyebrow. She was cute—looked harmless. But after Kuina, he wasn't about to underestimate anyone.

"You can fight," Ryuunosuke nodded, "but not with the Murasame."

He handed over his own blade.

"Use this instead."

Akame smiled brightly. "Got it!"

She gave the blade a few test swings, adjusting to its weight. Her fighting style wasn't brute strength like Kuina's; it was all speed and precision.

"Alright," Vista said. "Come—"

Clang!

Before he could finish his sentence, Akame blurred forward, her strike already crashing down at a sharp, unconventional angle.

Vista reacted instantly, bringing his swords up to block the blow just in time—right in front of his neck.

A cold sweat ran down his back.

Shit, that was close.

She looked innocent, but this girl was trying to kill him.

The sword didn't just carry energy—it carried intent.

Akame's aura was different from Kuina's. Less elegant, more vicious. Her killing intent was thick in the air.

"I'm not used to this sword yet... but it'll do."

She looked at the blade, then lunged again.

Speed. Speed. More speed!

Each of her attacks came faster than the last, aimed directly at his vitals—throat, chest, heart. She wasn't playing around.

Vista was forced into a full defensive stance, gritting his teeth under the rapid pressure.

Watching from his throne-like seat, Whitebeard's expression darkened.

What the hell is this?

What was supposed to be a light sparring session had turned into a public beatdown by Ryuunosuke's crew.

Both girls weren't even captains—just crew members—and they had Vista on the ropes.

Shhhht!

A sudden tear split through the fabric on Akame's arm.

She stopped, frowned, and walked back to Ryuunosuke, handing back the sword.

"I lost," she muttered with a small pout. "That guy's no pushover."

Vista let out a breath and sheathed his blades. "You're strong too," he admitted awkwardly.

Now he understood what Marco had been trying to tell them.

The new generation wasn't just rising—they were catching up.

If they didn't move forward, they'd be left behind.

And being left behind at sea... meant death.

"Not bad at all," Whitebeard suddenly laughed, the tension lifting.

"Gurararara! Ryuunosuke, your Dragon Hunter Pirates really are something. You'll stand at the top of the world soon enough—it's only a matter of time."

Ryuunosuke gave a modest smile. "You flatter me, Uncle Whitebeard."

"Stay for a banquet," Whitebeard said, waving him off. "I'll call the other captains over too. Let them feel your crew's strength for themselves."

"Are you sure?" Ryuunosuke asked, grinning. "My time's pretty valuable, you know."

Whitebeard laughed again. "I'll make it worth your time. One request—any request, and I'll fulfill it. Consider it a thank-you gift."

The air fell still.

Marco and Vista both froze.

Whitebeard's promise wasn't something to take lightly. He wasn't a man who spoke carelessly. If Ryuunosuke asked to borrow the Whitebeard Pirates' forces, even temporarily—it could lead to something dangerous.

But they understood the reason.

Whitebeard wasn't being generous.

He was desperate.

He wanted Ryuunosuke's strength to light a fire under his own crew—especially the captains. They needed to see what the future looked like. Needed to feel the pressure of being overtaken.

This wasn't a slap to the face—it was a wake-up call.

"I get it," Ryuunosuke said, nodding. "Then I'll stay."

The last time he helped was to do a favor for Ace.

This time... it was to earn a debt.

And a promise from one of the Four Emperors? That was more than worth it.

"Marco," Whitebeard barked. "Go prepare the banquet. Gurararara!"

He lifted a wine jug—Red-Haired Shanks' signature brew—and downed a heavy gulp. It was clear he'd kept it from their last encounter.

The old man still had his pride. But now, he also had a plan.

As preparations began, Ryuunosuke casually stepped aside, taking out a Den Den Mushi.

Time to give Morgans a little call.

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