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He ignored them.
Like an elegant dancer in the midst of death, Cavendish spun and stepped, weaving between enemies. Shua shua shua! His sword moved like wind cutting through silk.
He wasn't trained. He had no master. No style. Everything, the speed, the flow, the precision, was instinct. It came to him like breathing.
Each slash was sharp, calculated, and… beautiful.
Not every strike was fatal, but every single one mattered.
"Who the hell is this brat?! He's vicious!" A pirate cursed, blood pouring from the side of his head where his ear had been neatly sliced off.
The others began to turn toward Cavendish, fury lighting their eyes. But under their hostile stares, anxious, bloodthirsty, confused, Cavendish felt no fear.
If anything, he was exhilarated. His movements grew more refined. More flamboyant. Faster. Cleaner.
"That blade, how is it so fast? We can't read his moves!"
"Aaagh!"
The noise, the violence, the swirling storm of blood, it was intoxicating. The sting of being mocked by that red-furred gorilla and that smirking Giorno? Gone.
"Yes… look at me. Be captivated. That's right…"
"How magnificent I am!"
There was no sword technique. No discipline. No training grounds or drills. This was all play, an art form. And the more he indulged in it, the sharper, smoother, and more deadly his blade became.
Suddenly,
A towering figure blocked his path.
Cavendish didn't hesitate. He lunged.
The blade pierced clean through… but did nothing. No blood. No reaction.
His eyes widened. He looked up.
The man slowly looked down, gripping the rapier that had gone through his torso as though it were a toothpick.
"Blond brat…" The towering pirate captain sneered, his face twisted with cruel amusement. "What kind of prince are you supposed to be?"
Boom!
Cavendish vaguely heard the dull thud of impact before a wave of coppery blood flooded his mouth and nose. Disoriented, he couldn't tell which way was up as the world spun violently around him.
Pain bloomed across his body like fire. When his senses finally cleared, he realized he'd been hurled several meters through the air and had slammed into the ground with bone-rattling force.
A sharp ache in his gut made everything crystal clear, it felt like he'd taken a cannonball to the stomach. He'd just been punched by the pirate captain. Hard.
"So vile…" Cavendish coughed, clutching his stomach as he dragged himself upright, stubborn and relentless like a tenacious little cockroach, blood at the corner of his lips, yet still full of fire.
The captain of the Sword Pirates barely glanced at his own bleeding wounds. When Cavendish charged again, indignant and sword raised high, the pirate simply lashed out with a kick, sending both boy and blade flying.
"Stop him!"
The kingdom's guards rushed in frantically, some intercepted by the other pirates, others daring to charge straight for the captain. One by one, they were beaten back, unable to even scratch the man.
Finally, the captain grabbed Cavendish by the throat and hoisted him into the air like a trophy.
"Such smooth skin…" The burly pirate leered, licking his lips. "You'll fetch a fine price on the underground market!"
"Y-You… bastard…" Cavendish growled weakly, stabbing at the pirate with his slender rapier, but the blade barely pierced flesh.
All around, the guards of the Kingdom looked on in horror and helplessness, their hope crumbling.
And then,
"My, what a lively party we've got here." A voice floated out from the forest behind them, casual yet cold.
Everyone turned, the bloodied guards, the rampaging pirates, even the pirate captain himself, and saw two figures slowly emerging from the trees.
One was tall, carrying a small brown-haired girl on his shoulders. The other was a graceful woman with sharp eyes and an air of quiet wisdom.
The fighting froze. The guards gasped for breath, and even the pirates hesitated.
"Run, you fools!" One of the guards shouted at the newcomers. "These are pirates, you'll be killed!"
"Yes," Liam nodded calmly, "you probably would."
He didn't set Koala down. Instead, he rolled his wrists and ankles, stretching slightly. "It's been a while since I did any bounty hunting. Let's see if I'm rusty." He smiled, deadly and amused.
"Th-That voice…"
Cavendish, still dangling by the throat, recognized it. Through blurred vision and gritted teeth, he muttered:
"Giorno…?"
And at that moment, the pirate captain's hand trembled.
"Captain… It's them…" The pirates all froze.
Some paled. Others stepped back.
Even the massive captain's expression crumbled, color draining from his face as he stared at Liam like he'd just seen a Sea King rise from the depths.
His grip slackened, Cavendish dropped to the ground, coughing violently.
"Cough! Cough!"
"What are you all waiting for?!" The pirate captain roared. "Run! Get to the ship!"
Chaos exploded. The pirates scrambled like scared rats, stampeding toward their ship in blind panic.
The guards could only stare, dumbfounded.
These bloodthirsty pirates who had nearly wiped them out were now fleeing in terror?
Some couldn't take their eyes off the trio that had just emerged, especially the tall man who was still lazily cracking his knuckles. Who were these people? How could their mere presence send a veteran pirate crew into a frenzy of fear?
Cavendish, finally catching his breath, sat in stunned silence. As he watched the pirates flee, realization dawned on him like a cold wave: the gap between him and that man, Giorno, was a canyon.
His hand touched the cool steel of his fallen blade. And for a brief moment, all he could do was whisper:
"What… just happened?"
Liam tilted his head as he watched the pirates flee.
"That was a bit of an overreaction," he muttered.
Robin, hands behind her back and lips curved into a knowing smile, said, "They're the same crew we spotted from the ship earlier."
"Ohhh, those guys!" Liam chuckled. "Guess they recognized us. Still, aren't they a bit too scared?"
He sighed, sounding bored. The fight wasn't even worth getting excited about. He raised one hand and casually gave the signal.
His Stand, B.I.B., silently materialized behind him, shot forward, and soared over the battlefield. Midair, it burst apart into dozens of floating mechanical components, each one shrouded in dark swirling energy, all homing in on the panicked pirates retreating toward their ship.
Liam narrowed his eyes. His gaze fixed on the pirates' backs, there it was.
Just as Robin had described: strange graffiti, glowing faintly.
B.I.B. exploded into dozens of jet-black streaks across the sky, each one slicing through pirate bodies in a blur too fast to follow. In a blink, they reassembled at the front of the fleeing pack, clanking together with mechanical precision, forming a sleek, obsidian battle suit suspended mid-air.
Its hollow eyes gleamed white, casting a cold, soulless stare down at the captain of the Sword Pirates, a man with a bounty of 650 million Belly, now frantically scrambling up the gangplank to his ship.
"Run, run... I have to get out of here…" the hulking captain gasped, eyes wide with terror, his voice barely a whisper.
The rest of the pirates didn't even notice the ominous armor looming over them.
B.I.B. didn't move. It didn't have to.
The captain sprinted across the deck, panting, brushing past the floating armor, when suddenly, with no visible strike or sound, blood erupted from his body. He dropped to his knees mid-step, clutching his chest before crumpling lifelessly to the floor, a crimson pool spreading beneath him.
"......"
Cavendish and the royal guards stood frozen, staring in stunned silence.
The once-fearsome pirates, men who had just been laughing over blood and gold, were now falling one after another, collapsing mid-run with dull, sickening thuds, as if Death itself had reached out and tapped them on the shoulder. No battle cries. No warning. Just stillness… and bodies.
And then the captain, dead before he hit the floor. His end was so sudden, so eerie, it felt like a waking nightmare.
In the span of moments, the entire Sword Pirate Crew had been wiped out.
Without question, it was Liam and Robin behind it. The ones whose mere presence had sent hardened criminals into a panic.
The guards, still bruised and bloodied, looked at Liam with wide eyes. Some were tempted to kneel in gratitude, others couldn't stop their hands from trembling. Gratitude or fear… they didn't know which emotion was stronger.
"What... what was that?" one of them whispered under his breath.
Such a clean kill, so silent and surreal, was this man even human?
But Cavendish wasn't awed. He was furious. The way they were all looking at Liam, like he was some divine hero, boiled his blood. Jaw clenched, he gripped his sword tighter, eyes burning with stubborn pride.
Liam didn't even glance at him.
He casually waved a hand and said, "Let's see if there's a little artist on that ship. Maybe a girl who can draw."
(End of Chapter)