novelraw Chapter 443 443: Whitebeard Brings a Bucket of Gasoline and Burns the Four Emperors
Chapter 443 443: Whitebeard Brings a Bucket of Gasoline and Burns the Four Emperors
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The hiss of the white smoke pierced the dead silence of the ten-square-meter clearing. The black Frag Grenade spun aimlessly in the dirt right between Shanks and Kaido. Every single movement froze entirely for a fleeting half-second. On this godforsaken island, they were nothing but absolute, ordinary humans. That smoking lump of iron was more than enough to turn everyone here into a fine paste of minced meat.
There was no Armament Haki to shield them. No Devil Fruit to grant them unreasonable regeneration. Once that grenade went off, even the Four Emperors would be reduced to scattered, unidentifiable chunks of flesh.
"WHO THREW THAT!?" Kaido swore viciously as his thick thighs suddenly exploded with force. He couldn't care less about the dignity of an Emperor or the poise of a master. He just wanted to live.
Kaido ruthlessly kicked the grenade like a soccer ball. Trailing white smoke, the explosive bounced across the mud, heading straight for the prone Sengoku.
Sengoku's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The Fleet Admiral, who once commanded a hundred thousand Marines, scrambled out of the way on all fours, looking as pathetic as an old man dodging a rabid dog. Swinging his M416 Assault Rifle like a baseball bat, he smashed the stock against the incoming grenade.
"Sorry, old friend!" Sengoku roared, his voice cracking. In a life-or-death crisis like this, there was no room for camaraderie.
The grenade arced through the air, changing trajectory to fly directly toward Garp and Yasopp, who were still brawling in the mud. Garp had just buried a fist squarely into Yasopp's jaw, knocking the Red-Haired Pirates' top sniper completely unconscious, his eyes rolling back into his head.
Before Garp could even catch his breath, he saw a smoking iron lump rolling to his feet. Garp's reflexes were terrifyingly fast. Without a second thought, his massive, calloused hand slapped downward. The grenade was batted away like a baseball, launching diagonally into the air toward Red-Haired Shanks.
"Red-haired brat, catch my Fist of Love Grenade!" Garp cackled wildly, his blood-smeared face making him look like a completely unhinged maniac. He even had the leisure to name the deadly explosive.
Shanks, having just propped himself up with one hand to rise from the mud puddle, heard the whistling wind and looked up to see the lethal device flying straight at his face. Gritting his teeth, his only remaining hand slapped the ground fiercely, propelling his body into the air. Mid-flight, he twisted his waist and snapped his right leg out like a whip. The sole of his boot perfectly punted the grenade's metal casing.
The grenade altered its path once more. Howling with the promise of death, it zoomed straight for Doflamingo, who had only just crawled his way out of the Blue Zone.
Doflamingo's prized pink feather coat was already burnt to a crisp. Dragging his broken left leg, he was covered head-to-toe in dirt—every trace of his Warlord elegance completely wiped away. He had just narrowly escaped the electric grid with his life, only to look up and see a smoking grenade rocketing at his face.
"FUFUFU! YOU BUNCH OF LUNATICS!?" Doflamingo shrieked in absolute despair, his voice laced with undisguised terror.
Wrapping his arms around his head, he curled into a tight ball in the mud, burying his face like an ostrich waiting to be blown to pieces. The grenade was passed back and forth through the air like a game of hot potato. These great figures, who once commanded the oceans, had devolved into street thugs, using the ugliest and most primitive methods to kick the threat of death onto someone else.
The fuse's burn time had reached the absolute limit of physics. The white smoke grew thicker, and the acrid stench of burning gunpowder was practically palpable. Just as the grenade was about to land squarely on Doflamingo's head, a fierce gust of wind swept in from the side.
It was Mihawk.
The World's Strongest Swordsman still bore the heavy trauma of shattered ribs from being run over by Blackbeard's Jeep. His white shirt was thoroughly dyed in blood. No one knew when he had forced himself to crawl into this deathmatch zone. In his hands, he tightly gripped the bent, rusted crowbar.
His gaze remained as razor-sharp as ever. Even without his sword aura, the instincts of a swordsman were carved into his very bones. Planting his feet firmly in the mud, Mihawk twisted his waist, gripped the crowbar with both hands, and swung with all his might like a batter at the plate.
Clang! A crisp metallic ring echoed out. The crowbar struck the side of the grenade with pinpoint precision. The massive recoil tore the webbing between Mihawk's thumb and index finger, blood trailing down the crowbar and dripping into the mud.
The grenade shot outward in a high-speed parabolic arc, flying completely out of their cramped Safe Zone and landing ten meters away, deep inside the blue electric grid. BOOM! A deafening explosion erupted from the ground. A blinding fireball blossomed within the Blue Zone. Mud, gravel, and razor-sharp shrapnel rode a furious shockwave, violently ripping a massive crater into the earth.
The blast wave swept over them, flipping everyone in the Safe Zone onto their backs. Kaido's massive frame was blown into the withered tree trunk with a heavy grunt. Sengoku covered his ears, feeling as though ten thousand brass bells were ringing simultaneously inside his skull. Garp spat out bloody saliva, cursing as he rubbed his aching lower back. Shanks crashed into the muddy water, gasping for air.
Doflamingo was completely plastered in mud, paralyzed on the ground like a puddle of sludge, lacking the strength to even twitch a finger. Even Mihawk, who had swung the decisive strike, fell to one knee with a heavy thud as the motion aggravated his broken ribs. He coughed up mouthfuls of fresh blood, losing even the strength to hold his crowbar.
Everyone felt as if they had just taken a stroll through the gates of hell. Trusting their lives to a tiny lump of iron was far more suffocating than facing the full-powered strike of an Emperor. The air was thick with gunpowder and the metallic scent of blood. They lay scattered haphazardly across the ground, completely drained of even the energy to hurl insults. Only the sound of heavy, ragged breathing rose and fell in the clearing.
However, on this accursed island, the countdown to death never truly stopped. Before anyone could steady their breathing, heavy footsteps echoed from behind the nearby ruins.
Whitebeard, Edward Newgate, rose from behind the burnt-out chassis of an abandoned sedan. His iconic crescent-moon mustache was caked in dust, his body covered in scrapes and bruises. Yet, his stature remained as imposing as an insurmountable mountain. Even stripped of his Tremor-Tremor Fruit, this man's oppressive aura was suffocating.
Whitebeard grinned, revealing a spine-chilling smile. Veins bulged along his massive arms as he hefted a heavy, green plastic bucket. The cap had already been unscrewed, and the pungent, chemical stench drifted into the tiny Safe Zone on the wind. It was a full bucket of high-purity gasoline. A lethal supply scavenged from an abandoned gas station.
"Gurararara, brats, have a taste of this!" Whitebeard roared with laughter as his arm swept forward in a wide arc.
The bucket of high-purity gasoline traced a deadly path through the air. The clear liquid splashed out mid-flight, refracting the blinding sunlight before crashing directly into the densest cluster of fighters.
Doflamingo, who had been playing dead on the ground, felt his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. He smelled the sharp, unmistakable stench of gasoline.
"Newgate! You crazy old bastard!" Doflamingo shrieked, clawing frantically at the mud in a desperate attempt to drag himself away, but his broken leg refused to obey.
Kaido couldn't care less about his aching body anymore. Pressing both hands into the dirt, he tried to force himself up.
"DAMN OLD RELIC, ARE YOU TRYING TO BURN US ALL TO DEATH!?" Kaido bellowed, his grip on the pan creaking under the pressure.
Sengoku's scalp went numb watching the flying bucket. He knew exactly what Whitebeard was about to do. Once that gasoline landed and splashed over them, a single spark would turn this place into a living purgatory.
"GARP! RUN!" Sengoku screamed, scrambling toward the edge of the Blue Zone. He would rather be electrocuted into a charred husk by the grid than be burned alive by gasoline.
Uncharacteristically, Garp didn't dodge. Snatching up the empty Micro UZI he had discarded earlier, he locked his eyes onto the airborne gasoline bucket.
"I won't be scared off by a cheap trick like this!" Garp roared, using every ounce of his remaining strength to hurl the submachine gun like a hidden weapon.
The gun spun through the air and slammed perfectly into the gasoline bucket. With a muffled thud, a large hole ruptured the plastic in mid-air. The high-purity gasoline cascaded down like a waterfall, drenching Kaido and Shanks from head to toe.
The suffocating fumes of gasoline instantly saturated the Safe Zone.
Shanks wiped the fuel from his face and let out a bitter laugh. "Now we're really in deep trouble."
He was coated entirely in highly flammable liquid. A single spark, and he would become a giant human torch. Kaido was fuming with rage. The indomitable physical strength he was so proud of had now become his greatest weakness; the gasoline-soaked skin felt cold, yet it radiated a lethal threat.
Standing behind the wrecked sedan, Whitebeard looked down at the soaked crowd. Slowly, he pulled a windproof lighter from his pocket.
"Gurararara... The game is over."
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