"Kyros?"
"Who's that? Sounds like a big deal. Four hundred and forty consecutive wins in the colosseum? Sounds impressive."
In the stands, Kuzan lay back lazily in his seat, surrounded by large bags stuffed with snacks he had just bought.
As the crowd surged with excitement around him, Kuzan finally sat upright with curiosity, his gaze turning toward the center of the arena. Beside him, Yoriichi was nibbling on a star-shaped exotic fruit, also staring at the arena with keen interest.
Kyros.
Even after all these years, Yoriichi still remembered that name clearly.
This man had once become a murderer at the age of fifteen—seeking revenge for a dearly departed friend. And during his capture, he had gone so far as to strike King Riku on the head with a blunt weapon. Just as the royal guards were about to gun him down on the spot—
King Riku intervened.
Maybe it was because of Kyros's unwavering loyalty to his fallen friend. Maybe it was the rare brilliance of his combat talent. Whatever the reason, King Riku chose to spare him.
But that didn't erase Kyros's crimes. Murder. Assaulting a monarch. Both were capital offenses, punishable by death.
And yet, King Riku took him to the colosseum in Dressrosa and made him an offer—win one hundred matches, and you'll earn your freedom.
In that bloodstained arena, Kyros began to transform his raw talent into strength. Through battle after brutal battle, he grew ever more powerful. In less than half a year, he reached the hundred-win mark.
But even after fulfilling the king's promise, Kyros didn't leave the colosseum.
Because the stain of being a murderer was not so easily washed away.
No matter how many victories he racked up, society still rejected him. The label clung to him like a shadow.
Unwelcome by the world, Kyros chose to stay in the colosseum—numbing himself with endless combat.
Now, with four hundred and forty victories under his belt, Kyros had become the undisputed king of the arena, both in skill and in popularity.
Soon after, Kyros and his opponent—the Rampaging Sea Bear—stepped onto the stage.
The Sea Bear was a towering hulk of a man, nearly five meters tall, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. He was clad in heavy armor, a full helmet obscuring his face with only his eyes exposed. In one hand he held a massive spiked round shield, and in the other, a battle axe as tall as an average man.
His presence alone was crushing.
Kyros, on the other hand, was still just a seventeen-year-old boy. But what a boy he was—tall and powerfully built, easily over two meters, with a well-proportioned frame and explosively developed muscles. He looked like a force of nature.
Next to him, Kuzan—who was roughly the same height—might as well have been a twig.
Unlike his opponent's fully armored appearance, Kyros wore only a ragged tunic and a gladiator skirt. In his hand, he held a double-edged greatsword that gleamed coldly in the sunlight—a fine weapon, at least.
But compared to the Sea Bear's imposing gear, Kyros looked downright pitiful. If not for the sword in his hand, he might've been mistaken for a beggar.
His whole appearance was simply a disaster in terms of presentation.
"Whoa~ So that's Kyros, huh? No wonder he's won so many matches—look at that build! And that armor looks seriously badass," Kuzan said, eyes shining with faint envy as he gazed at the armored giant.
After a moment, he added wistfully, "If only the Marines issued armor like that… we'd look so damn cool."
Yoriichi shot him a sidelong glance, clearly exasperated, and could only respond with dry sarcasm: "Yeah, that'd be… 'drip beyond salvation.'"
Kuzan instantly caught the mocking tone. He opened his mouth to retort, but Yoriichi spoke again before he could.
"Kuzan, the one with the axe isn't Kyros. Kyros is the one holding the double-edged sword."
"I can feel it—he's strong."
Yoriichi's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Kyros standing at the heart of the arena.
In his Transparent World, Yoriichi could clearly see the "Qi" flowing from Kyros's body—not Haki, but something more primal.
Kyros's breaths were slow and deep, his muscles coiled with explosive power, but more importantly—his heart.
His heart pulsed with a vitality that rivaled even the Upper Moons of the Demon Slayer world.
A human whose life force could rival that of a demon?
Yoriichi had no doubt—if Kyros had existed in his own world, only two beings would have been able to match him.
One was Yoriichi himself.
The other… was the Demon King, Muzan Kibutsuji, who had died by his blade.
"The one with the double-edged sword?"
Kuzan blinked, a little surprised by the correction. But he didn't doubt Yoriichi's judgment. He knew his friend's perception went far beyond ordinary Kenbunshoku Haki. Yoriichi possessed some kind of unusual sensory ability, one that let him see through strength and weakness with eerie accuracy.
While the two of them conversed, the host in the arena had already rattled off a string of introductions and announcements, mostly to hype up the crowd and buy a little time.
As mentioned before, the coliseum was Dressrosa's grandest gold sink. Spectators didn't just come for the spectacle—they came to bet, placing their money on whichever gladiator caught their eye.
The prolonged preamble was nothing more than a built-in betting window.
"Hey, Kuzan, got any cash on you?" Yoriichi asked casually.
"Put it all on that Kyros guy to win. If we make anything, consider it an advance repayment of my debt."
Kuzan chuckled and shook his head. His expression turned serious as he declined, "What are you thinking? Sure, I'm on vacation—but I'm still a Marine. No way I'd get involved in gambling."
Yoriichi blinked, slightly surprised. It was the first time he'd heard of such a rule among the Navy. He vaguely recalled that, in the future, a certain admiral would be recruited through the World Draft—a man known not only as an "actor" and a "gambling addict," but also as a "blind swordsman."
"Well, that's a shame. You just missed a great money-making opportunity," Yoriichi said, unfazed. He leaned back comfortably in his seat, leisurely munching on fruit.
Before long, the referee in the arena announced the start of the duel—and in an instant, the entire coliseum fell silent.
But neither "Sea Bear" nor Kyros made the first move. Kyros gripped his sword with both hands, coldly eyeing his opponent, while the burly "Sea Bear" began pacing around him in a circle, clearly searching for an opening—waiting to strike like thunder.
The standoff lasted several tense seconds before "Sea Bear" finally lost his patience. With a powerful stomp, he lunged at Kyros like a charging beast. Despite his hulking size, his speed was anything but sluggish. In the blink of an eye, he was upon Kyros, thrusting his spiked shield forward in a brutal slam.
The jagged points on the shield glinted coldly. There was no doubt—if Kyros took that hit, it would be lights out.
But just as the shield was about to strike, Kyros suddenly leapt into the air, flipping clean over "Sea Bear's" head. In midair, he twisted his body and brought his longsword crashing down toward the back of his opponent's skull.
"DUANG!!"
The clash of sword against helmet rang out like a thunderclap, the metallic shriek echoing across the coliseum.
Kyros landed nimbly behind "Sea Bear" as the massive fighter remained frozen in his lunging pose. For a moment, everything was still. Then, as if his legs had finally given out, the titan collapsed to the ground with a thunderous boom.
"WHAM!"
A deafening crash echoed as "Sea Bear" hit the floor. Even as the referee and audience shouted his name, he didn't get back up. Fully armored and towering in size, the mighty "Sea Bear" had been felled in a single strike by the plainly equipped Kyros.
The display of sheer skill sent the crowd into a frenzy. Cheers and roars surged toward the ring like a tidal wave.
"Whoa, that was impressive," Kuzan murmured with a sigh. Though his words praised the performance, his tone remained calm, almost indifferent.
Yes, Kyros was strong. But to Kuzan, he was still just within the range of an ordinary human.
"I really like him."
"Kuzan, can't you recruit this guy into the Navy?"
"I bet sparring with him would be a lot more fun than with you."
Yoriichi's eyes lit up with rare interest. While Kyros's strength and speed were nothing extraordinary—at least not in the eyes of someone like him—his swordsmanship was different. It was a blade honed through countless real battles, the kind of skill born from survival rather than theory.
To Yoriichi, crossing swords with such a warrior promised something more than combat.
It promised joy.
*********
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