One Pice: A Game Blue System.

For a moment I'm in a daze, not quite sure what just happened but my vision slowly drifts to the left where a noticeably winded Mori kneels with a spent cannon on his shoulder. "Thought you could use the assist." He says somewhat dryly, chucking the oversized weapon back into the box he took it from. "Now what was that about me needing to 'get out of here'?"

'Well damn...guess the man's got me there.'

The Chief moves slowly to my side and gazes up at the burning hole in the roof alongside me. "Do you think I got 'im?" he asks, his voice cautiously hopeful though obviously disbelieving.

My eyes narrow as I start scanning around the other high places in the room. "I don't think so...at least not completely."

"Well then where'd he-" a 55 gallon steel drum smashes into the Chief from behind cutting him off mid-sentence. I spin around and immediately fall flat to the floor to avoid a steel barrel of my own. A mildly charred and moderately apoplectic Jorgen shrieks at my narrow save before wrapping his arms around two more and launching them at frightening speed.

I weave between the two projectiles and focus in on the man's health. Based on his singed fur and reopened head wound he definitely took some damage from Mori's surprise.

Jorgen: (1,507/2,844)

'Holy crap he lost over 600 points!'

I'm not sure whether to be shocked it did so much damage or to wonder how he's still in fighting shape at all. A normal man would never have survived that kind of direct hit. Heck, if I'd been hit by it back when I first left Kivuruk I would have been reduced to scattered chunks of slurry. Or perhaps a smoking deep-fried skeleton. 'And the [Game] says that his Fruit is only reducing his damage taken by 30%...which means the other 70% was all him...The durability of people in this world gets more and more bullshit every day.'

On the other hand though, I've been shot multiple times in the past 20 minutes so what the fuck am I even complaining about right?

The next projectile is a massive crate weighing who knows who many hundreds of pounds and as I hop over it a blue screen pops in my face.

Skill Lv up! Bullet Time Lv. (1/30) → (2/30)

-Your ability to perceive time at a slower rate while in combat. Slowed perception increased from (3%) → (6%)

I dismiss the notification as I land and roll beneath another airborne drum. At a 3% reduction I couldn't see the difference, but at double that amount? Eh, it's basically the same.

I wouldn't say anything was slow per say. 94% of normal speed is still 94% after all. But there was an almost imperceptible degree of sluggishness to the world around me now. Like you're watching a film and you suspect there may be something slightly off about the frame rate. I wouldn't deign to say this [Skill] is offering me any sizable advantage yet but I'll take whatever I can get.

Bit by bit, yard by yard, I advance on my opponent who is getting increasingly frustrated at both my natural affinity for dodging and his rapidly decreasing supply of 'large things to throw at me'.

Jorgen growls when I reach within two meters of him and he raises the last of the nearby boxes overhead, clearly intent on smashing it down on top of me. He swings downward and I let myself fall into a slide mid-run.

By the narrowest margins I pass under the crate and smoothly into the man's guard. As my ears fill with the sounds of wood shattering just inches behind my head I vault myself upwards and send both of my feet crashing into the base of his chin.

88 Damage! (1,419/2,844)

"Enough with the Donkey Kong bullshit!" I thunder as my legs strike with enough force to actually life the primate clean off the ground.

Will he understand that reference? Obviously not. Do I care? Take a guess.

For one exquisitely beautiful moment the lieutenant is sent tumbling ass over teakettle through the air, but -much to my chagrinmanages to right himself rather quickly. I rush in, trying to capitalize on a potential moment of vulnerability, but Jorgen's already mostly recovered by the time I get there. Bulky orange limbs parry my punches away and though I manage to knock off about 70 health through glancing blows my assault is pretty much a failure.

Especially when his kick lands in the center of my chest.

-92 HP!

A pathetic wheeze escapes my throat as all the air rushes out of my lungs and my body flies backwards from the impact. I tumble across the floor and grimace as I accidentally inhale dirt and dust. Despite it though I don't let it keep me down for more than a few seconds. Sliding to a stop I spring myself up to a kneel, teeth gritted and ready for the next round!

The Chief slides up next to me with his sword in a defensive pose. "You good?" he asks, never taking his eyes off our opponent. "Ready to keep going?"

"Always ready." I murmur before scoffing out a single chuckle. "Y'know I really should be asking you that. I'm a lot more durable that you are."

"Ha! That you seem to be." Mori barks, before pausing to spit a glob of blood on the floor. "Don't worry. I've still got plenty of fight in me."

Jorgen meanwhile has used the free time to his advantage. He's ripped the lid off one of the weapon boxes and seems to be digging for something in particular. When his hands emerged from within the mountain of packing straw they were not without new toys.

'Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me! How many goddamn weapons are they storing in this freaking place!' The lieutenant had equipped himself a pair of long heavy blades which only got thicker and broader as you traveled away from the hilt. The way the swords ended in a flat head rather than a point visibly reminded me of a style of weapon that I had never seen anyone employ except Zoro's old bounty hunter buddies in East Blue.

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