The night was still and heavy with an impending storm as a sinister air settled over the quiet streets of the coastal town. In the heart of the town, Dylan's bar stood, a modest haven where laughter once mingled with the clinking of glasses. But tonight, the atmosphere was different, charged with tension and foreboding.
A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, clad in a black suit that seemed to absorb even the feeble light filtering through the thick clouds above. The Gagliano insignia adorned the lapel of his coat, an intricate circular design that boasts intertwining vines encircling a majestic lion clutching a key. A grim reminder of the family's power and ruthless reputation. With a subtle nod, his enforcers spread out, each one silently taking up strategic positions around the bar.
The leader, a man named Corallo Gagliano, approached the entrance. With a deliberate, gloved hand, he pushed open the door, the faint jingle of the bell overhead a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation. The bar was empty, the usual patrons having sensed the impending storm and sought refuge elsewhere. The silence was eerie, a prelude to the tempest about to be unleashed.
Corallo's gaze swept the room, his lips bent into a small frown as he breathed in the smell of old liquor and faint remnants of cigarette smoke. He thought back to the sight of his men laid out on the floor of their warehouse. They were crushed. The Gagliano Family does not get crushed. But Corallo was not one to let a slight go unanswered.
Dylan, working late into the night as usual, smiled at the man. It didn't take him long to notice the insignia, yet he remained quiet and greeted him as he would any patron.
Small, pointless words were exchanged between the two. Corallo was confident the man known as Oliver Crave was last seen entering this bar, yet this simple barkeep refused to acknowledge it. Pleasantries quickly turned tense.
Corallo was not a patient man. If he wasn't here, then he'd simply smoke him out.
With a gesture, his enforcers moved forward, their movements methodical and precise. Bottles of fine liquor were swept from the shelves, crashing to the ground in a cacophony of destruction. Tables were overturned, their wooden frames splintering beneath the force of their wrath. The once vibrant and warm interior of Dylan's bar was quickly reduced to chaos and ruin.
Amidst the chaos, the enforcers doused the remains with accelerant, the pungent scent of gasoline filling the air. Corallo stepped back, his gaze cold and unyielding, as one of his enforcers produced a small incendiary device. With a flick of his wrist, the device arced through the air, landing amidst the wreckage before bursting into flames.
The enforcers, satisfied with their work, swiftly exited the building. Corallo stepped back, his gaze cold and unyielding. He produced a cigar from his pocket, slowly lighting it and breathing in the putrid taste as he gazed upon his men's work. It was a dirty life. Breathing in his bad habit one last time, he flicked the remains of his cigar to the floor.
The fire caught swiftly, a hungry inferno consuming everything in its path. The flames danced with an eerie malevolence, their orange and red hues reflecting in Corallo's unyielding gaze. The crackling of the fire and the splintering of wood echoed like a haunting requiem, a symphony of destruction orchestrated by the Gagliano Family's vengeful hand.
As the flames consumed Dylan's bar, Corallo turned away, his mission accomplished. The destruction of the bar was a message, a clear warning to Oliver Crave and anyone else who dared to challenge the might of the Gagliano Family. The night remained still, the once-thriving establishment now slowly being reduced to embers and memories, a poignant testament to the cyclical nature of violence and revenge. The storm that threatened to engulf the island suddenly showed its full force, one last defiant act against the might of the Gagliano Family. The torrent of rain swept across the bar and the retreating figures that caused it.
Only the man in the very centre of it all, in his death-like slumber, would be spared from the anguish as the rain slowly but surely washed away the embers that threatened to take away the remnants of a man's dream.
I stirred awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I yawned and stretched, my movements slow and languid. It took a moment for my senses to fully awaken, but I quickly surveyed the room. It didn't take long for me to notice the charred edges of the furniture and the faint traces of soot on the walls. My heart beat quickly, a surge of confusion and realisation intertwining within. Slowly, I sat up, my mind racing to piece together the puzzle that lay before me.
'What happened... I can't remember anything from last night. I swear I remember the system saying something... Shit. Was there a fucking fire?'
A quick glance out of the window revealed the aftermath of the storm that had raged through the night. Rain-soaked streets glistened under the sun's tentative rays, and the scent of damp earth hung in the air. It was then that I noticed the pervasive smell of burnt wood and lingering smoke.
With a sense of urgency, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. As I moved through the hallway, I took in the telltale signs of destruction. The windows were streaked with ash, and the air carried a faint, acrid tang.
I made my way down the stairs, now mostly gone, pushed open the door, and stepped into the common area of the bar. The sight before me produced a mixture of relief and disbelief. The storm, it seemed, had saved both me and the bar from the worst of the destruction. The remnants of the fire were evident—scorched wood and blackened patches—but the structure itself had been spared.
My gaze fell upon the ruined furniture, the charred remnants of what had once been familiar and welcoming. A place where laughter and camaraderie had flourished, now bore the scars of a nightmarish ordeal.
Something quickly caught my eye. Dylan sat on the floor with his back against the bar. In his hands, he clutched a large bottle of whiskey and a familiar picture frame.
"Dylan? What happened?" I walked over, swallowing heavily. My entire body felt like it was slowly being crushed. I could see from here the blank and lifeless expression on Dylan's face. He didn't react to my words at all.
"Dylan?" I crouched down next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. I looked down at the frame in his hand. The frame itself was chipped, and the glass protecting the photo of him and his wife had been cracked into pieces, lightly damaging the photo within.
My heart sank. It was strange, though. I looked around at the scene of destruction. Some of the furniture looked like it had been smashed or pulled apart. The bottles on the bar were fewer than usual, strewn about the floor in a mess of different liquids.
'This wasn't just a fire...'
I shook Dylan, staring down at the husk of a man. Finally, he looked up at me. His face was devoid of anything, and I could tell that his tears had long since dried up- dedicated to putting out the fire alongside the pile of buckets surrounding him that he no doubt used to douse the flames.
"What happened, Dylan? I know it wasn't just a fire." I said once more, doing my best to calm my nerves.
He stared at me for what felt like years. I could tell he was trying to find the words or even the energy to speak.
"They came for you, Oliver. I told you not to get involved with them." Dylan finally spoke, his words coming out slowly and painfully. Dylan coughed, his throat no doubt dry from the hours he spent trying to save his bar.
My body shook. My heart clenched as the words washed over me, each syllable carrying the weight of destruction and vengeance.
Anguish mingled with fury as I considered the weight of my actions—my haven—consumed by flames. The realisation that I had slept through the very storm that had saved us—the storm that had kept the inferno at bay—twisted my gut into knots. Guilt gnawed at the edges of my consciousness.
'How the fuck did I sleep through all this? Fuck!' I ground my teeth together in irritation. No, anger.
I had caused irreparable damage to this man's life—to his dream. For what? I foolishly wandered back here without a thought. How could I be so confident and so fucking stupid? So, the Gagliano fucks wanted to send a message?
"Message fucking received." I hissed, standing up next to Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Dylan. I won't be able to turn back time and save you from the pain you're feeling right now. To be honest, I'm not very smart, and I don't have many ideas. I'm going to have to trouble you to deal with my stupidity once more."
Dylan looked up at me with a frown and a deep look of sadness plastered on his face. He simply nodded slightly.
"I'll erase everything to do with the Gagliano Family. I'll recover the money they took from me, and I'll be sure to pay you back everything I owe you a thousand times over. I'm sorry I can't stay with you and help with the mess. I'll be back to sort it out properly."
I turned around and made my way out of the bar. My fingers clenched into fists. I could feel my skin tightening with fury. I may have slept through the night, but I am fully awake now.
'Gagliano Family. I'll fucking annihilate you, but first, I think I'll get some real firepower.'
I turned on my heel, heading down the street towards the west side of the docks. Thankfully, I hadn't just sat around with my thumb up my ass. I knew that some of the pirates that came through here occasionally dropped off some interesting wares, and said wares tended to be on the more explosive side. I made my way through the crowd, twisting through the streets and alleyways of the port until I reached a small, inconspicuous store titled 'The Silly Goose: General Store'. I swung the door open, the bell above my head producing a stiff ring.
The man at the front, a small bald man with a wrinkled face and an equally wrinkly moustache, looked over in my direction.
"Ah, hello! What can I help you with?" He said, twirling the left side of his moustache.
"Cut the pleasantries. I'm here for your special stock." I said, making my way up to the bar.
He stared at me for a moment. He seemed tempted to play the fool, but it seemed the look on my face persuaded him otherwise.
"I can tell you're looking to get into trouble. Very well, come with me." He hopped off his stool, slowly hobbling through a brown curtain leading into the back of the store. I followed him through and down a set of stairs leading into a sizeable basement. However, the man continued on through the clutter of random objects - mostly junk. Eventually, the man reached a large empty shelf, which he quickly pushed to the side with relative ease. I followed him through the now wide-open gap in the wall.
Dim lighting cast elongated shadows, revealing rows upon rows of shelves that lined the walls. On these shelves rested an array of weapons and devices, each more dangerous than the last. My gaze swept over the collection, taking in the eerie glint of metal and the ominous hum of concealed machinery.
Racks of firearms stood adjacent to crates of intricate tools, each meticulously designed for the efficient murder of your enemies. Blades of various sizes gleamed ominously in the low light, each edge honed to a razor's precision. Unmarked containers housed vials of volatile substances, their contents hidden from casual view. What really drew my gaze, and what the old man quickly began to uncover, was a box full of familiar-looking military-grade grenades. Inside each box were a dozen or so grenades, neatly lined up alongside one another.
"I assume this is the kind of special you meant? This is usually what people are interested in. However, if you really want something special, I've got something fresh out of the oven from way over in the East Blue. Apparently, some nutjob pirate managed to develop a pretty intense explosive, and the guy I met apparently left the crew and took some of these with him. Can't remember what he said, but apparently, the Captain is an absolute clown. Or did he say he was literally a clown? Ah, whatever." The man rambled on for a bit but eventually opened a small case full of tiny red balls with a shiny exterior—not much larger than a bead.
I looked at them for a moment, taking in what the man had said. 'Odd. Assuming these are what I think they are, I didn't realise Buggy had developed this version so early on. I suppose it's plausible he simply never used them in his first meeting with Luffy.'
Regardless, they would suit his current needs perfectly. "I'll take the little red ones and a few of those grenades, if you don't mind."
The old man, clearly pleased, gave me a large smile and nodded.
East Side of the Island, 15 Minutes Later
I sat just outside the main warehouse district on the east side of the island. Everything I had prepared sat securely in my inventory. I flicked through the small notepad in my hand, ensuring I had listed every notable building belonging to the Gagliano Family, including the residences of some of the more influential members. Alciano had been quite helpful with giving me all this information, after I persuaded him that it was in his best interests. I flicked to the last marked page in my notebook, where I had underlined one name a few times . Foxili.
No doubt, he had been the one to snitch on me and possibly even follow me back to the bar. I may have made the mistake of letting him go, but I wasn't going to forgive his sly little treacheries.
"Well, best get started..." I stood up, making my way into the fenced-off area holding the warehouses. I turned a few corners until I reached a familiar Warehouse #12. Best to start where it all began. I opened up the door, sliding it all the way until the sun shone through the gap, illuminating all the boxes and assorted containers within. I had never actually checked what they were holding in here, and I didn't really care at this point.
I reached my hand into my inventory, producing a small, grey object fitted with a pin. It was the first of many weapons that would slowly turn everything the Gagliano Family had into ashes. First, their product and their buildings. Then, their men. Then, the pieces of shit who really made things happen. They'd be the ones to get it last, slowly and painfully.
I flicked the pin off with my thumb, clutching the hammer tightly. I reeled my arm back and threw it as hard as I could into the back of the warehouse.
Tick.
Tick.
Boom.
A gush of air sailed past me out the door as a bright light washed over the back of the warehouse, sending pieces of everything flying outward. Whatever had been in those boxes was now blasted to smithereens. Content with the quality of the old man's goods, I scratched out 'Warehouse #12' in my notebook before tossing in another grenade for good measure. I turned on my heel and made my way towards the next target, a bright explosion serving as a fitting backdrop to my exit.
+45 EXP
Gagliano Family Members defeated: (62/100) → (63/100)
I released my grip, allowing the bloodied man to drop to the floor. I combed my hands through my hair, now slick with sweat. I gazed around at the sad sight before me, a dozen little rats, all bloodied and bruised. I had dropped in unannounced to a little private bar of theirs, and it seems I wasn't exactly welcome. A few kicks to the jaw quickly solved that problem though.
Once more, I crossed through another name in my notebook. I cracked my neck and sighed. 'Revenge is pretty hard work. Yet, I feel like I could probably do this a few more hundred times. Anything to get my hands on whoever decided to touch Dylan.' I looked down at the man I had just dropped. Ticked off, I booted his head once more for good measure. My clothes had unfortunately gotten the worst of it; my brand new tank top was smeared with all sorts of stains.
I hadn't planned to get involved with one of the families so early, but recent events really sped up the process. The good thing was that I was quickly becoming stronger. I had already managed to level up three times from the number of goons I swept through. My strength was sitting at a wonderful 89 points, and would no doubt get to 100 fairly soon. I sighed heavily as I stepped over the numerous bodies, making my way out the door. I considered blowing the whole place up, but I felt it would be wrong to have my first kill be some random shmucks. No, it was far more fitting to head down such a slippery slope by wringing the neck of the one who ordered the burning down of my friend's home.
Doing away with the thought, I began to make my way down a small alleyway. I leaned against the wall as I watched a small group of men rush by, charging their way through the busy streets. They were adorned in fairly medieval attire and armour befitting your standard guard. They were the King's men, charged with doing their best to keep the peace on the island due to the lack of Marine activity. Unsurprisingly, my antics and explosive behaviour had attracted the attention of the King up in his castle on the hill. Of course, no one had any idea it was me, and it seemed the Gagliano Family wasn't too keen to go running to the King for help.
I looked down at my notebook, surprised to see there was only one name left. A villa on the northeast side of the island, past the warehouses, and isolated from the rest of the town. No doubt I'd finally be meeting the real boss of the whole operation. I swiftly made my way through the crowd, heading straight towards the warehouse district once more. As soon as I broke through the crowd, I ran and continued running. I'd end the Gagliano Family before the sun could set. They weren't worth wasting more than a day on.
Nestled atop a rugged cliff overlooking the restless expanse of the ocean, the Gagliano Family villa stood as a symbol of opulence, power, and secrecy. The imposing structure exuded an aura of both grandeur and foreboding, its formidable presence commanding attention and respect from those who dared to approach.
The villa's architecture melded Old World elegance with a touch of ominous grandiosity. Its towering turrets and intricately carved façade hinted at a bygone era of nobility, while its sombre hues and imposing battlements spoke of the family's dominance within the criminal underworld. Tall, arched windows provided sweeping views of the surrounding coastline, allowing the inhabitants to keep a watchful eye on their domain.
As I crossed the threshold of the villa, the atmosphere shifted. It was almost serene. Not once since I stepped into the gardens surrounding the villa did I see a single person. It seemed they had long since prepared for my arrival. I made my way through the tall hedges and through the flowerbeds that decorated the front of the grounds, up a large stone staircase to the front door of the villa. A large, imposing double door of thick mahogany. I placed my hand against the wood and pushed it open. With a low creak, I gazed through the widening crack at the entrance hall, adorned with rich tapestries and dimly lit chandeliers.
Tall, intricately designed columns of dark marble lined the sides of the hall, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like sheen. The columns reached towards a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate murals depicting scenes of dominance and conquest.
A plush, blood-red carpet unfurled along the centre of the hall, its fibres soft underfoot, muffling even the faintest sound. The carpet led the way towards a massive, ornately carved, marble staircase that led to a large balcony above. No doubt it held the entrances to rooms deeper into the villa.
However, what really caught my eye was the dark figure sitting atop the staircase. Even sitting down, I could see the man was of considerable height. The man's frame was both powerful and imposing, his broad shoulders and commanding posture exuding an air of unyielding dominance. His dark, piercing purple eyes held a calculating intensity. His presence commanded attention—an aura of calculated power that seemed to ripple through the air, sending an unspoken message to all who dared to meet his gaze. His black hair was neatly groomed and combed back out of his face. His attire, a tailored black suit that exuded both elegance and authority, seemed to meld seamlessly with his demeanour. The fabric whispered of luxury, the cut spoke of confidence, and the insignia on his lapel carried the weight of generations past. His presence, an embodiment of the Gagliano Family's legacy, seemed to meet my eyes with its own intensity.
Corallo Gagliano, Gagliano Family Executioner, Lv. 28
[HP]: 760/760
The man, who I now knew as Corallo, gazed down at me from on high, taking one long drag from his cigar. I stood there for some time. To be honest, his level was somewhat surprising. Everyone from the family I had faced up until now was far below me in skill and level, but even without seeing his level, I could tell this man was better than me.
Corallo stood up, silently taking another drag of his cigar as he made his way down the steps. Every footfall sent out a small echo around the large hall. I felt like I should speak, yet the man's intensity and demeanour made it difficult.
Eventually, he reached the bottom of the step. He blew out one final cloud of smoke and bent down, snuffing out the embers of his cigar on the marble step. He flicked the remnants to the side.
I stared at him. Not once had the man's gaze faltered or swayed. He continued to stare at me fixedly. Before I had even realised it, Corallo was right in front of me. Looking down at me. I stared up at the man, who I could only assume was at least a foot taller than me.
"You must be Oliver." Corallo finally spoke, his voice deep and confident.
"That's right." I responded, unsure of whether I should just punch the man square in the face.
"I wasn't expecting such a show of force, to be honest." Corallo put his hands in his pockets, taking on a more relaxed posture than before.
"Well, you guys brought this upon yourselves." I frowned, my hands clenching into fists at my side.
"I suppose so. Very well, let's see if you're worth my time." With that, Corallo struck out with... something.
-155 HP.
[Regenerate] is now restoring 0.4% of your maximum health per minute.
Before I had even registered it, I was flying across the room back towards the entrance, the impact of the blow sending a shockwave through my body. Pain radiated from where his strike had landed. I finally dropped to the floor and rolled across the soft carpet. My vision wavered for a moment, and I quickly regained my footing, gritting my teeth against the pain.
My hand instinctively moved to the wound on my side. His attack had definitely bruised me, the force of it knocking the breath out of me. Corallo's expression remained unchanged; his eyes locked onto mine as if assessing my reaction.
'His strength... This isn't just a level difference. I underestimated the gap far too much.'
I knew I had to act quickly. With a deep breath, I charged forward and reached into my inventory simultaneously. I produced a small vial filled with a harsh red liquid.
Gulp.
Temporary Boost Activated: Adrenaline
[STR] Increased by 10% (89→98)
[VIT] Increased by 10% (100→110)
Time Remaining: 00:00:59
The moment the adrenaline booster coursed through my veins, I felt an electrifying surge of energy. It was as if every cell in my body had suddenly been awakened, each one pulsating with newfound vitality. The boost wasn't anything crazy, but I certainly felt stronger. I sped up mid-dash, closing the gap between us within a few seconds. Now, within arm's reach, I pushed my right arm forward towards his face, attempting to grasp hold of it.
His expression shifted ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Immediately, Corallo dodged. His form ducked underneath before rising once more.
His leg extended upwards like a level, driving his foot into my stomach and lifting me off the ground.
-95 HP.
I felt something crack. Without pause, his body turned and brought my body with it. In an instant, he had lifted me over his head with just his leg, before driving me into the carpet below.
-120 HP.
Any air I had managed to hold onto after the initial kick was immediately forced out of me. I coughed and wheezed as I rolled over in pain. Even from here, I could see Corallo looking down at me, the surprised expression replaced with that same look of bored confidence.
'Shit. Shit. Not good.'
"It seems you're not as ordinary as you look," Corallo commented, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. He raised an eyebrow, almost inviting me to press on.
Time Remaining: 00:00:47
I seized the opportunity. My muscles tensed, and I forced myself off the ground in a kip-up, aiming a powerful kick at his midsection. Corallo sidestepped with fluid grace, dodging my attack effortlessly. His movements were precise and controlled; each step was calculated.
I landed and turned on my heel. I shot my fist towards his head. Blocked. Another at his liver. Blocked. Punch after punch, I continued to be shut down. Once more, I shot forward. My arm was quickly grasped, and with my momentum turned against me, I was thrown to the side like a cheap rag.
"You certainly have the resilience, but not the skill. You're a bit like a punching bag, I suppose." Corallo spoke, making his disappointment clear.
'Fuck off. I just wasn't quite expecting this.' I coughed as I got to my feet once more. This whole situation was going quite poorly. I stared at the timer in the corner of my vision, I was slowly losing the only real chance I had.
Time Remaining: 00:00:35
'Fuck it.' I swiftly produced the two remaining vials. Potions existed to be taken, and here I was in the fucking boss room. With a single gup, the red liquid flowed into my stomach and throughout my veins.
Temporary Boost Activated: Adrenaline x3
[STR] Increased by 30% (89→116)
[VIT] Increased by 30% (100→130)
Timer has been reset.
Time Remaining: 00:00:59
My heartbeat immediately began to quicken. I could almost feel my blood rushing throughout my body. My muscles felt like they were simply begging to be released, bulging outward in an attempt to break out of the skin that held them back. I felt powerful. Who knew how this would treat me afterwards? But right now, it feels great.
I sprang forward, my foot impacting against the stone flooring with a crack. Immediately, I was on top of Corallo. I slammed my fists down like a hammer. Corallo wasn't prepared for the sudden increase in tempo. His head buckled under the force, and an audible crack rang out through the room. Immediately, however, he recovered, and a swift jab to the face sent me stumbling backwards.
I dove under another of his punches, using the opportunity to strike his exposed ribs with a quick jab. The impact barely fazed him, but it hit. As long as I could hit him. I maintained the assault.
Left fist to the liver.
Thud.
Right fist to the jaw.
Crack.
Follow through. Elbow to the temple.
Crack.
Use momentum to spin. Left leg, back of the head.
Thud.
Corallo stumbled forward. He maintained his balance, but I was confident that he was shaken by the sudden reversal. I gave a quick glance at the top of his head.
[HP]: 540/760
Time Remaining: 00:00:41
I had barely done any real damage, and my strength was only temporary. Corallo spun around, catching me off guard momentarily. A swift kick to the side of my head had me spinning in place.
-105 HP
I hit the ground hard, and my vision momentarily blurred. Pain pulsed through my body, but my determination remained unwavering. I pushed myself upright, gritting my teeth against the ache.
Corallo watched me with an unyielding gaze, seemingly unfazed by my tenacity. "You're really quite an interesting man. It's a shame what happened at the bar; I quite liked it there." A small frown made itself apparent for a moment. "Unfortunately, orders from on high have my hands tied."
Without warning, he shot his foot forward, closing the space between us with the length of his leg alone. I doubled over from the force of the impact. Any hope I had to react quickly vanished as Corallo began to pick me apart from every angle. Each strike was calculated to exploit my weaknesses. I did my best to block and evade, my muscles protesting as I strained to keep up with his assault.
-42 HP
-66 HP
-50 HP
-53 HP
-61 HP
-73 HP
-82 HP
-96 HP
Despite my efforts, his blows found their mark. A punch to my ribs, a knee to my stomach, and a devastating uppercut sent me hurtling into the air. I crashed against the marble floor of the entrance hall, skidding to a stop several feet away.
-145 HP
My body ached; every movement was a struggle. I stared up, my health and status mocking me.
[HP] (322.8/1300) | [Regenerate] is restoring 0.4% of your maximum health per minute.
Time Remaining: 00:00:23
I look over to see Corallo approaching me, his hands stuck in his pockets. The man radiated absolute confidence, yet somehow I felt like he was merely putting on a show. He could have ended me right from the start. Someone known as an executioner shouldn't be casually talking to the enemy and messing around like this.
'Odd.' I followed the man with my eyes, unable to move much at all. I still had some steam, but recklessly charging in again would no doubt end in failure. He stood above me, looking down at me with a quizzical stare.
I met his gaze with fierce determination. "Fuck you." I managed to barely cough it out, but at least I said something.
Corallo's lips curled into a faint smile. "Not much of a poet, are you? Are you surprised? You did an incredible job at dealing with all the rats that call themselves members of the Gagliano Family. Yet, here you are falling short when it really matters." He sighed and crouched down beside me.
"I can see you're quite upset about the bar being destroyed so thoroughly. Sincerely, I apologise for the rashness of my... boss." Corallo spoke, though he seemed to hesitate with the final word.
'I guess his relationship with this mysterious boss isn't so simple. Too bad it doesn't fucking matter when I'm dying on the floor.' I moved my eyes back towards the timer. I knew I should do something, yet it all felt pointless.
Time Remaining: 00:00:11
"Though, I suppose an apology probably isn't what you're looking for." Corallo cupped his chin in thought, humming in thought. "Though, I can certainly say you've done a good job at exposing how far the Gagliano Family has fallen. Such ridiculous losses all from one man, and in only a few days at that." Corallo chuckled to himself lightly, his attitude at odds with the words he spoke.
Time Remaining: 00:00:09
'I think I preferred it when he was silently brooding. Did the fight cheer him up?' I stared at the timer slowly ticking down.
Time Remaining: 00:00:07
'Should I just go for it and hope for the best? Is there any point? Probably gonna get my ass kicked.'
Time Remaining: 00:00:05
'This really sucks...' I sighed.
Time Remaining: 00:00:04
I thought back to the night before. The hazy memories of ridiculous claims I had made flowed back slowly. Here I was, at the first step, and I was already struggling. Life really turned me upside down. Was this the punishment for my ambition?
Time Remaining: 00:00:03
How ridiculous. I make my own fate. I haven't even managed to get revenge for Dylan.
Time Remaining: 00:00:02
I make my own fate.
I could feel my vision slipping as the rush of power the boosters had given me seemed to slip away. It seemed my energy was being rapidly drained as payment for the temporary power.
Time Remaining: 00:00:01
Fuck it. One more round.
[Man O' War] has been activated.
All senses of pain are nullified for the next minute.
Health has increased: 324 → 582
Your stamina has been replenished.
Apologies for the delay. I recently moved house and have been a little bit busy getting back into work. Hopefully, this chapter is of sufficient quality. I did my best to correct any mistakes I could see. Also, it seems FFN has some issues with formatting occasionally. I don't know how to fix it and it's mostly a problem on the app. I would recommend reading this story on the website, as occasionally it seems the app will simply remove certain special characters.
Regardless, we have Oliver in an extended fight for once that he's actually struggling in. I hope the flow and style of the writing were able to present the fight I had in mind to a decent quality. Let me know if it felt odd or awkward so I can do better in the future.
