Contrary to what many would expect, despite Jerom’s current situation, he was feeling a surge of excitement.
Malakai had been far more dangerous than he would’ve ever thought. He not only had an insane grip on battle, but he was also a planner.
Aside from being able to observe and predict his and Kendal’s every action in battle, he had also planned multiple moves ahead as if he could see the future.
He was an opponent Jerom would have dreaded to face at any time. However, even as he breathed in and out heavily, with sweat marring his face, a smile appeared on his face.
‘He slowed down.’
He had finally found it.
Jerom hadn’t thought it would’ve been possible, but now, after observing all the scenes, he saw it clearly.
Malakai’s weakness.
“You’re not evolved.”
Malakai’s eyes narrowed slightly at the statement.
That single, fleeting reaction was all Jerom needed. His lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile.
“Looks like I’m right.”
Since the battle had begun, it was the first time Jerom had seen Malakai’s expression change, and he relished it.
“The devil’s fruit, huh?”
Jerom’s eyes flicked to the small sack strapped to Malakai’s waist. The devil’s fruit had been in existence long before the formation of the dome. Jerom knew exactly what it was.
He exhaled deeply, suddenly standing straight. Then, a small chuckle escaped him, followed by a wry smile.
“I’m such a fool for not seeing this sooner,” he muttered.
His gaze never left Malakai, not for a second.
“The way you didn’t use your powers against the gradeless ones… the sudden bursts of strength and speed… I should’ve known.”
Jerom shook his head, letting the truth settle.
“No, it’s not just that. It’s you. You’re smart, Malakai… if that’s even your real name. Too smart to be a Sanguine.”
The pieces had finally fallen into place.
Jerom had seen it during the earlier skirmishes, those moments where Malakai suddenly surged forward, moving with sudden speed. But he’d never seen him use a single Sanguine ability. Not once.
It hadn’t made sense, until now.
First, he had seen Malakai eating the devil’s fruit during his brawl with Kendal.
Second, he’d noticed the clear drop in his power and speed once the fruit’s effects wore off.
And now, even in this dire fight, Malakai still hadn’t used his Sanguine abilities.
It could only mean one thing.
He was unevolved.
‘It lasted for quite a while,’ Malakai thought. Despite being found out, he was still unnervingly calm.
He knew the truth couldn’t stay buried forever.
‘At least I was able to handle the other one first.’
He’d already handled the other opponent. Now, all that remained was Jerom.
He adjusted his grip on the scythe, holding it firm. His eyes, unblinking, studied Jerom.
Now, Malakai would focus his entire being on defeating him.
Jerom’s smile faded, turning colder.
“But it’s over now.”
He lowered his stance, the temperature in the room seemingly dropping with him.
“Now that I know… now that I understand you can’t keep up with my speed or strength, handling you will be easy.”
A second of silence.
And the tension in the hall surged.
They began to circle each other, slow and measured steps echoing through the space.
Though neither spoke, their minds were far from silent.
‘I only have to be worried about the fruit and weapon on his waist.’
The thought rang through Jerom’s head, and in that very instant, a surge of electricity flickered across his irises, coursing through his limbs.
Time slowed.
He lunged forward.
A blur, and his sword came down in a devastating arc.
Malakai’s eyes narrowed.
CLANG!
His body moved on instinct. The scythe shot upward, intercepting the sword in a fury of sparks.
‘Heavy—’
Malakai gritted his teeth as the weight of the blow forced one knee to buckle.
But Jerom didn’t pause.
He pulled back his sword and thrust forward, once, twice, then multiple times in rapid succession, sending several piercing strikes all at once.
Malakai’s eyes sharpened as his footwork exploded into motion, each step weaving and turning in response to the thrusts.
His scythe spun like a shield, parrying some blows, dodging others by inches.
But each dodge came too close.
Sparks flew, and then, blood.
Slashes opened across his arms, his side, his thigh. Each one was shallow, but enough to bleed.
He started getting pushed back.
Step by step.
‘The wall…’
Malakai’s eyes gleamed.
But Jerom’s assault never stopped.
His strikes intensified, each one faster, sharper, more lethal.
He could feel it.
‘I’ve almost had him.’
Malakai was only a few steps from the wall. Soon, there’d be nowhere left to run, nowhere to weave, no angle to escape.
He’d be cornered, and then it’d be over.
But even as Jerom pressed on, he reminded himself:
‘I still have to be careful.’
He had uncovered Malakai’s unevolved status. But that didn’t change the truth.
Malakai’s most dangerous weapon wasn’t his strength.
It was his mind.
Even now, despite the bleeding wounds, despite being slower, weaker, Malakai hadn’t taken a fatal hit.
Every strike Jerom launched was predicted before it came.
It was uncanny.
Even with Jerom’s accelerated perception, with his Lucerna reflexes, he couldn’t do what Malakai was doing.
There was only one explanation.
‘He’s a natural-born genius…’
A cold glint flickered in Jerom’s eyes.
‘Too bad you’ll die here.’
His assault sharpened, and his blade shot for vital points, arteries and tendons.
Malakai barely blocked each attack, blood spraying.
It was obvious. His death was imminent.
Yet, a strange chill crept up Jerom’s spine.
‘Something’s wrong…’
Despite the pain. Despite the blood staining his clothes and skin.
Malakai’s expression hadn’t changed.
His crimson eyes still burned, cold and intense.
And his body, though turning weak, never stopped moving.
Jerom didn’t like this.
Not one bit.
‘I have to end this, now.’
His sword came crashing down, aiming to split Malakai’s skull.
But in that instant, Jerom’s eyes widened.
“What—?”
Malakai’s left hand suddenly released the scythe, leaving only his right to block the descending blade.
Jerom sneered.
‘He can barely hold off my strikes with both hands… with one?’
The blade slammed down. Malakai’s right arm twisted under the force, sent flinging aside.
But Jerom wasn’t looking at the scythe anymore.
His eyes were on Malakai’s left hand.
In that small moment, it had drawn the gun… and fired.
But it wasn’t at Jerom. Not even near him.
‘Down!’
Jerom’s eyes snapped to the floor, and just below was a small, round object.
His pupils shrank.
Recognition slammed into him.
It was the same type of device that had been attached to the water bottle.
A bomb.