The silhouettes of warships on God Valley's coastline were faintly visible in the distance, and the sound of horns still echoed; the Marines didn't have much time left to retreat…
Derrick watched Gern, who had his back to him, his shoulders tensing slightly as his right hand quietly slid towards the flintlock pistol at his waist.
His knuckles were white from gripping, and veins subtly protruded on the back of his hand.
"Let's go, Warrant Officer," Gern said flatly, "The retreat time is almost over."
He had noticed the greedy look Derrick had just shown.
But Derrick was a greedy person by nature, so it was normal for him to have such a look when he saw him carrying a good knife.
He didn't bother to think too much about it; after all, if they didn't retreat soon, the entire island would be erased by the World Government.
Gern stepped forward, but Derrick remained rooted to the spot. Feeling that the person behind him hadn't moved,
Gern subconsciously turned his head, his gaze falling on Derrick's stiff body, and a strange sense of incongruity welled up in his heart.
"Something's wrong!"
As soon as that thought flashed, Derrick suddenly drew his gun, his movements so fast they almost left afterimages.
The sunlight refracted a dazzling glare off the gun barrel, and the black muzzle pointed directly at Gern's heart and head!
"Bang! Bang!" Two deafening gunshots tore through the silence of the coast.
Gern's pupils suddenly contracted; time seemed to freeze at that moment.
He watched, wide-eyed, as the lead bullet spun towards him, but he had no time to react.
The moment the bullet pierced his chest, Gern, who hadn't fully adapted to his identity as a Nature Type ability user, instinctively closed his eyes.
But the anticipated sharp pain didn't arrive; instead, there was a strange tremor.
He looked down in bewilderment, finding water-like ripples appearing on his chest and forehead.
The bullet flew through without any obstruction, as if passing through air, stirring up a small puff of dust on the beach behind him.
"This…" Gern blankly touched his chest; it was completely unharmed, with only faint vibrational ripples in the air around where the bullet had passed.
On the other side, Derrick's expression froze, his lips trembling uncontrollably, and the hand holding the gun began to shake.
"Gern, you… you ate a Devil Fruit?!" His voice trembled with disbelief, as if he had seen his most terrifying nightmare.
Gern slowly raised his head, the sea breeze ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead, revealing his gradually chilling eyes.
The initial shock had faded, replaced by a chilling calm.
"Warrant Officer." His voice was light, yet sharp as a blade, each word carrying heavy weight.
"You tried to kill me?"
Derrick's face instantly turned ashen, and cold sweat trickled down his temples.
But soon, fear was replaced by ferocity; his features contorted, and a crazy killing intent erupted in his eyes.
"Damn brat!" He screamed hysterically, his finger frantically pulling the trigger, "Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Consecutive gunshots exploded along the coastline, startling a flock of seabirds into flight.
Bullets whistled through Gern's body—his chest, arms, even his head.
But each one passed through like an illusion, leaving only subtle vibrational ripples in the air.
Gern stood motionless, watching Derrick expressionlessly.
His body appeared translucent in the sunlight, as if composed of countless vibrating particles.
When the last bullet passed through his brow, he didn't even blink.
"Nature Type…" As a Warrant Officer of a branch, Derrick naturally knew about Devil Fruit.
So when he realized he couldn't kill Gern, his hands trembled violently, and the flintlock pistol clattered onto the sand.
Gern did not answer.
Instead, he took a step, and the sand beneath his feet unconsciously vibrated with his anger, beginning to tremble silently, scattering outwards as if in fear.
Then came the second step, the third step… Each step made Derrick involuntarily retreat until his back hit a reef.
"Wait! Gern!!" Derrick stumbled backward, the fear in his eyes almost overflowing, his hands and feet scrambling on the sand.
"Gern! Wait! This is a misunderstanding!" He waved his hands frantically, his voice pleading, the muscles in his face twitching uncontrollably.
"I just… I just wanted to confirm your condition!"
"Condition." Gern continued to approach, his expression terrifyingly calm.
"Those shots you just fired…" he said softly, touching his brow, "They weren't meant to let me live."
Derrick's face turned livid, and he suddenly roared, as if collapsing: "You should have died on the God Valley battlefield!
Your severance pay… that money would have been enough for me to return to West Blue and get a promotion!
His voice was hoarse like sandpaper rubbing, "Trash like you, living is just a waste of food!
Why are you alive?! Do you know how much money I'll waste because a good-for-nothing like you, with no parents, is alive?"
Gern's steps halted. If he remembered correctly, his severance pay as a second-class Marine from a branch was 1.5 million Berries.
"Severance pay?" Thinking of this, Gern let out a cold, sarcastic laugh, "Heh heh, so, my life…"
He slowly raised his hand, and a white halo of vibration began to gather in his palm, "Is only worth this much money?"
Derrick tried to argue, but Gern no longer gave him the chance.
He extended his hand and gently pressed it on Derrick's shoulder, his movement as soft as a greeting between old friends.
"Why?" Gern asked in a low, terrifyingly calm voice.
Derrick trembled all over, his lips moving but unable to speak.
He could feel a strange vibration emanating from that hand, making his teeth chatter uncontrollably.
Gern's five fingers slowly tightened.
"Buzz." An invisible shockwave instantly penetrated Derrick's body, and the resulting air blast even shattered the reef he was leaning against behind him.
Derrick's pupils suddenly contracted to pinpricks, his mouth agape in an exaggerated "O" shape.
A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, but there were no external wounds on his skin.
"Ugh… Ah…" Derrick whimpered like a dying beast, his hands futilely clawing at his chest,
As if all the organs within his body had been shattered into a mess.
His eyeballs were bloodshot, staring fixedly at Gern, filled with an unbelievable terror.
The next second, his knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily to the ground like a sack of mud, then pitched forward, his face burying into the damp sand.
Blood slowly seeped from his ears and nose, spreading a dark red stain on the sand.
Gern withdrew his hand and looked down at Derrick's corpse.
There was no anger, no satisfaction, only a strange indifference.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the lingering vibrations at his fingertips.
"So killing people…" he murmured to himself, "is this simple."
At this moment, the sea breeze gradually picked up, and faint shouts came from the distant warships; someone had noticed the anomaly on the shore and was rushing over.
Gern stood still, looking down at his palms.
Sunlight filtered through his fingers, casting dappled shadows on the sand.
He could feel the power flowing within him—violent, potent, as if it could tear through anything.
Just minutes ago, he was a second-class Marine who could be betrayed and killed by his superiors at any moment.
And now, he could end a person's life as easily as crushing an ant.
"Is this… power? The power to control everything and to control one's own destiny."
Gern clenched his fist, and the air in his palm vibrated, emitting a faint hum.
At this moment, footsteps in the distance grew closer; Derrick's gunshots had, after all, attracted nearby Marines.
"In that case, I'll trouble you to play along with me!"
Gern took one last look at Derrick's corpse, then suddenly revealed a smile, and immediately took his corpse on his back.
"After all, if I remember correctly, the person responsible for the western retreat is Marineford Vice Admiral… 'Black Arm' Zephyr, who is about to be promoted to Admiral!"