Haki Monster in One Piece World - Chapter 20
Chapter 20: Final Fight!
The outskirts of Coco Village had become a warzone. Arlong, bleeding and roaring, stood amidst a landscape of shattered trees and cratered earth, facing the lone human who had somehow defied him, killed his officers, and weathered his monstrous fury. Mike stood opposite, swaying slightly, his body a roadmap of pain – bruises mottling his skin, cuts weeping blood, his left eye swollen completely shut, his breathing shallow and laboured around what felt like definitely broken ribs. Yet, he stood.
A short distance away, an incongruous audience had gathered. Luffy sat cross-legged on a miraculously intact boulder, eyes wide with fascination. “Awesome! He dodged again! Shark-guy’s strong, but mystery-guy is fast!” Beside him, Zoro leaned against the stump of a felled tree, arms crossed, his single visible eye narrowed in critical assessment of the brutal exchange. Sanji stood nearby, nervously puffing on a cigarette, his gaze flickering between the battered Mike and Nami, who watched the fight alongside Nojiko with matching expressions of horrified anxiety. Usopp, Johnny, and Yosaku formed a tight, trembling knot behind the relative safety of Sanji and Zoro.
“He’s hurt so badly!” Nojiko whispered, twisting her hands together, watching Mike stumble slightly after dodging one of Arlong’s savage lunges. “Nami, they have to help him!”
Nami clenched her fists, her knuckles white. Watching Mike, this stranger who had done the impossible by killing Chew and Kuroobi, now being systematically battered by Arlong, was agonizing. He was fighting for them, wasn’t he? For the bounty, maybe, but his actions aligned with their desperate hope. “Luffy! Zoro! Do something!” she pleaded, turning to her crewmates.
Sanji took a drag from his cigarette, his knuckles white where he gripped it. He looked ready to leap in, but a glance from Zoro stopped him.
“Hold on, Nami,” Zoro said calmly, his gaze never leaving the fight. “It’s his battle. You don’t interfere unless asked. It’s disrespectful.” He paused, adding with grudging admiration, “Besides… he hasn’t asked. He’s still fighting.”
Nami choked back a frustrated cry. Disrespectful? Mike looked like he was about to collapse! But Zoro’s warrior code, however frustrating, held sway, and Sanji reluctantly stayed put, though his posture remained coiled, ready to intervene at the slightest provocation from Arlong or signal from Mike.
The fight had raged for what felt like an eternity, grinding relentlessly onward. Mike estimated it must have been close to two hours since their confrontation began in the jungle clearing. Two hours of non-stop, high-intensity combat against a being of monstrous physical power.
…
Two hours… The thought barely registered through the fog of pain and exhaustion. Every muscle screamed, every nerve ending felt frayed and raw. How many bones are broken now? Lost count. My left arm hung at a weird angle – dislocated shoulder, probably. My ribs felt like a bag of shattered glass. Breathing was agony. I could taste blood, metallic and thick. My vision swam in and out of focus, the world viewed through a haze of pain and the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. Arlong’s bite marks on my right arm and shoulder throbbed viciously. I felt… disfigured. Broken down.
Fatigue: 68%
The number glowed mockingly on my internal display. Still functional, thanks to Haki Attribute Lv.48 providing reserves I shouldn’t possess, but fading fast. I glanced across the ruined earth at Arlong. He was a wreck too. His proud saw-nose was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken from one of my luckier Haki-fist connections. Dark Fishman blood oozed from multiple cuts – the knife wounds from earlier, deeper gashes from Haki-enhanced impacts. One of his arms hung slightly lower than the other. His breathing was harsh and ragged, gills flaring desperately. My Observation Haki, even now, could sense the profound weariness radiating from him, a fatigue likely mirroring my own.
He’s hurting, I realized, a grim flicker of hope igniting within me. He’s strong, durable as hell, but he’s not tireless. He’s getting sloppy.
…
The fight had indeed devolved into a brutal slugfest, a desperate war of attrition. Arlong, his initial explosive fury tempered slightly by fatigue and his own injuries, relied more on raw power and intimidation. He’d roar, lunge, swing wildly with fists like sledgehammers, or grab chunks of rock and hurl them with devastating force. His movements were slower now, easier for Mike’s Observation Haki to predict, but each blow still carried lethal potential.
Mike, forced to fight smarter, conserved his energy. He used Armament Haki Lv.2 sparingly now, only flaring it on his good fist for quick counter-jabs when an opening appeared, or reinforcing a specific point to block debris or a glancing blow. His primary defense was evasion, using his speed and Haki-aided prediction to stay just out of reach of Arlong’s kill zone, letting the Fishman tire himself out further against empty air and shattered landscape. It was a dangerous game, requiring constant focus despite the agony racking his body.
Luffy, incredibly, was still watching with rapt attention. “Come on, mystery guy! Hit him again!” he yelled, oblivious to the nuanced battle of stamina and Haki unfolding.
Arlong roared in frustration, perhaps spurred on by Luffy’s commentary or simply enraged by the human’s continued survival. He gathered himself, ignoring the pain from his broken nose and bleeding wounds. He saw Mike momentarily unbalanced after dodging a thrown rock. He saw his chance. With a bellow that shook the nearby houses, Arlong charged, saw-nose lowered like a battering ram, jaws snapping, intending to finish it with one overwhelming assault.
…
Predictable! My Haki screamed the incoming charge, the raw, simple intent behind it. He’s putting everything into this… leaving himself wide open! Exhaustion, rage, desperation – it made Arlong reckless. I saw the opening, the same spot on his lower abdomen where my Haki-knife had drawn blood earlier, where subsequent blows had landed. He was favoring it slightly, trying to protect it, but the charge left it momentarily exposed.
This is it. Ignore the pain. Everything I have.
…
As Arlong thundered towards him, Mike didn’t dodge sideways. He took a steadying breath, ignoring the fire in his lungs, the screaming protest of his broken body. He lowered his stance, channeling every remaining Haki, every scrap of willpower, into his right hand. Armament Haki Lv.2 flared, coating not just his fist but extending slightly up his forearm, focusing not on broad defense, but on piercing power, hardening his fingers into spectral claws of pure force.
He met Arlong’s charge head-on.
He twisted at the last second, letting Arlong’s shoulder slam into his already damaged left side, sending fresh agony through his body but using the momentum. As Arlong’s momentum carried him slightly past, Mike thrust his prepared right hand forward with all his remaining strength, aiming directly for the previously weakened spot on Arlong’s stomach.
SQUELCH.
The sound was horrifyingly wet, visceral. Mike’s Haki-enhanced hand, focused like a spear point, punched through Arlong’s tough scales and muscle. The Fishman’s charge halted instantly, his eyes bulging wide not just with pain, but with utter shock and disbelief. A choked gasp escaped his lungs, bubbles of blood appearing at his lips.
Mike wasn’t done. Driven by pure survival instinct and the need to end this now, he clenched his fist inside Arlong’s gut, fingers closing around slick, vital organs. With a final, desperate roar of effort, he ripped his hand back out.
He brought with him glistening handfuls of Arlong’s insides.
The Fishman tyrant stared down at the catastrophic, steaming wound in his own abdomen, then up at Mike, his expression a mask of uncomprehending horror. He tried to raise a hand, tried to speak, but only a wet gurgle emerged. His strength vanished in an instant. His eyes rolled back. He swayed on his feet for a second, then crashed heavily onto the churned earth, landing with a sickening thud near Mike’s feet. He twitched once, then lay utterly still, the life draining out of him onto the soil of the island he had terrorized.
Silence.
A profound, echoing silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by Mike’s harsh, ragged gasps for air and, from the sidelines, Luffy’s stunned whisper, “Whoa… he really pulled his guts out…”
Mike stood swaying over Arlong’s corpse, his Armament Haki flickering out. The adrenaline that had sustained him, pushed him beyond his limits, vanished like smoke. Agony, absolute and overwhelming, slammed back into him. The world tilted violently. Black spots danced in his vision. His legs gave out. He collapsed, hitting the ground hard near the monstrous form of his defeated enemy.
Consciousness was fading fast, the darkness welcoming. But just before it claimed him completely, through his one swollen, barely open eye, he saw figures approaching. Not Luffy, not Nami or Nojiko. Uniforms. White uniforms, emblazoned with the familiar ‘MARINE’ insignia. Dozens of them, emerging from the direction of the coast, weapons raised, surrounding the scene of carnage. Leading them was an officer with sharp, unpleasant features that reminded Mike distinctly of a rat… Nezumi.
‘Marines…?’ The thought echoed fuzzily in the receding blackness. ‘Nezumi…? Now…? Bad timing…’
Then, everything went dark.