One Piece: Undying Dream

"One down," Roku panted, electricity still crackling through the baton in his hand.

The remaining Handler circled warily, more cautious now. Salazar's expression hadn't changed, but something in his eyes had sharpened—a predatory glance.

"Fascinating," the warlord murmured, jotting something in a small notebook he'd produced from his pocket. "Subject demonstrates tactical adaptation to superior forces. Note potential development of heightened reflexes under stress."

A deafening crack split the air as lightning struck a nearby tree, setting it ablaze instantly. The Island seemed to be tearing itself apart, the pirate attack triggering some kind of natural disaster—or perhaps their power was so destructive it simulated one.

Using the distraction, the Handler charged. Roku raised the stun baton, but his arm was still partially numb, his grip weak. The Handler knocked the weapon aside and drove forward, tackling Roku to the ground.

They rolled across the dirt, the Handler's superior weight and strength giving him the advantage. Roku found himself pinned, the man's knee pressing into his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. Gloved hands closed around his throat.

Darkness crept at the edges of Roku's vision as he fought for breath. In desperation, he reached for that strange sense again, pushing it outward with all his might. The world seemed to slow, sounds becoming muffled as his awareness sharpened to a knife's edge.

There—a vulnerability. The Handler's protective gear had a gap at the base of the neck, where the mask met the body armor. Roku drove his fingers into that gap with precision, striking a nerve cluster. The Handler stiffened, his grip loosening just enough for Roku to twist free.

Before the man could recover, Roku delivered three rapid strikes—throat, temple, and finally the base of the skull. The Handler collapsed without a sound.

"Two down," Roku gasped, struggling to his feet. His body ached, electricity still causing his muscles to spasm occasionally. But he was standing. 

Salazar's expression shifted almost imperceptibly—the slight narrowing of his eyes the only indication of surprise. He tilted his head, studying Roku with renewed interest.

"Those strikes," Salazar said, his voice barely audible above the roar of the burning jungle around them. "Third intercostal nerve cluster. Carotid baroreceptor. Occipital pressure point." He took a step forward, analytical gaze scanning Roku from head to toe. "Precise targeting of vulnerabilities that aren't visible to the naked eye, truly remarkable."

Salazar's thin lips curved into a smile. "How interesting. I've tranquilized men three times your size with half the dosage those batons delivered. Yet here you stand." He removed a small notebook from his coat pocket and jotted something down with a pen that gleamed silver in the firelight. "And more remarkably, you're demonstrating perceptual abilities that shouldn't be possible without years of specialized training."He glanced at Jiro, who watched with wide, fearful eyes. "You see, boy? This is why he's special. This is why I must know what makes him tick."

A tree crashed down nearby, sending up a shower of sparks. Salazar didn't even flinch, his attention entirely focused on Roku. The ground beneath their feet trembled violently. In the distance, Roku could hear screams, the sounds of buildings collapsing, the roar of the encroaching flames. The island was dying around them.

"We don't have time for this," Roku said, eyeing Salazar warily. "Let him go. You can still get to your ship."