Red Line - just outside Pangaea Castle
The sky churned, and the earth cracked. The battle had reached its boiling point.
The three Gorosei who had once stalled Dragon, Shanks, and Mihawk with everything they had were now restored to full might. Yet even with their rejuvenated bodies and awakened Zoan forms, they found themselves outpaced.
Dragon struck first.
From Shanks, Buggy had learned the truth. Dragon's Devil Fruit wasn't just powerful but divine too.
Mythical Zoan: Kaze Kaze no Mi, Model: Fujin.
The golden-scaled titan that soared over the Red Line was no mere illusion of might. It was the Wind God himself, incarnate. With every beat of his wings, hurricanes stirred. Lightning curled around his limbs. Conqueror's Haki bled from his form in waves, commanding the storm itself to obey.
Across the scarlet soil of the Red Line, chaos reigned. The so-called Beasts Pirates had fallen into myth, but here in Pangaea, real beasts walked again. Mythical beasts, gods. and literal monsters in human skin. And one man above them all watched without fear.
Buggy.
Imu's Devil Fruit proved to be a Mythical Zoan, which pushed this into the realm of insanity. But the technique she used, time manipulation, seemed too precise, too surgical. More akin to a Paramecia.
Even Shanks had never heard of a Zoan that governed time.
There was only one fruit in memory that bent time itself: the Toki Toki no Mi, once wielded by Kozuki Toki. A fruit that could send people forward, never back in the river of time.
Imu's ability was far more dangerous.
Buggy narrowed his eyes. He didn't like mysteries.
Above him, Dragon acted.
"Divine Roar of Fujin!"
Golden jaws parted wide. From the mouth of the storm god, a spiraling vortex of wind laced with blue lightning screamed downward. The air warped under its force. Distant peaks crumbled beneath the crushing pressure. This was not a roar. It was a heavenly edict delivered with the wrath of a god.
Saint Topman Warcury did not move.
Awakened in his Fengxi form, the mythical beast of ancient wind lore, his towering frame shimmered with compressed air currents. Spirals of wind wrapped around his horns, glowing with volatile orange light. He lowered his head slightly, eyes narrowing.
"Heaven-Splitting Pulse: Gale Judgment!"
A focused beam of kinetic energy launched skyward. The attack tore through the sky like a divine javelin, its shriek rising to meet the gale above.
The two forces collided in midair.
A blinding flash engulfed the sky as wind met wind. Lightning exploded outward. The impact cracked the clouds apart. A shockwave followed, flattening the mountaintops below and tearing trenches across the Red Line.
BOOM.
The skies detonated. Light and wind collided in a blinding sphere that shook the entire Red Line.
For a moment, Warcury smiled. Then the air split.
Blades of golden wind, too fast to track and too sharp to withstand, sliced through the fading explosion and struck across his chest.
Boom.
He screamed as the blades burst on contact, ripping through his armored hide and divine haki. The force hurled him backward into the mountainside, carving a trench with his body. Blood sprayed high into the air in a burning arc.
But Dragon was not finished.
His wings stretched open even wider, casting a golden glow across the heavens. Stormlight pulsed along the veins of his outstretched limbs.
"Heavenly Wingstorm: Fujin's Judgment!"
From each wing unfurled a monstrous tornado, massive enough to blot out the sun. They rose like twin pillars of wrath, spiraling with golden wind, crackling lightning, and suffocating pressure. Each cyclone radiated with the weight of ancient power, laced with Armament and Conqueror's Haki. They roared, like sentient storms crying for vengeance.
The world fell silent.
Even distant seas grew still. The raw majesty of the assault choked the breath from every soul watching.
Then Dragon moved.
With a sweeping motion of his scaled arm, the twin storms descended.
They crashed into the heart of the crater where Warcury had fallen, their spirals tightening and twisting like blades. The very air seemed to scream. The sound was no longer wind. It was tearing steel, shattering glass, rending sky.
Zzztzzhh!
Chi chi chi!
The tornadoes intertwined over the impact site, grinding together in a storm of death. The ground cracked beneath the weight of the gale. Sparks flew from the clash, lightning leaping between the tornadic walls.
Then the storm surged again.
A pulse of power rippled through the vortex. From its core, beams of golden wind erupted. First one, then a dozen, then hundreds. Each ray carved through stone and sky alike, pillars of divine judgment lashing out in every direction.
The explosion came like a star imploding.
Rumble.
The two tornadoes collided into each other, triggering a detonation that shook the foundation of Pangaea itself. Light swallowed everything. Shockwaves thundered out from the epicenter. Wind, fire, and divine energy flattened mountains and uprooted the land for over a kilometer in every direction.
From across the battlefield, Redfield, Shanks, Mihawk, and the rest turned their eyes to the storm. Even mid-combat, they paused, gazes drawn by instinct.
Hovering above the wreckage, Dragon stood tall. His arms were folded across his chest, his golden wings spread wide. Lightning danced along his scales as he looked down at the crater, golden eyes narrowed. The message was clear.
The fight here was over.
Shanks saw it first, and the others followed his lead. With Dragon's battle concluded, the tide had turned. It was time to end it.
Above the battlefield, Saint V. Nusjuro raced across the sky, his hybrid Bakotsu form streaking through the clouds like a skeletal comet. His lower half thundered with the power of a demonic stallion, hooves smashing the air, while his upper half, still humanoid, wielded his frost-tipped blade with terrifying precision.
Dark smoke coiled around his shoulders and chest, a clear mark of his awakened state. Each swing of his sword split the sky, laced with freezing wind. Where it struck, the air itself crystallized, and the ground below shattered under the weight of sudden ice.
He had become a storm of steel and cold, faster than most could track. Earlier, he had carved through the Pacifista lines like they were standing still, his skeletal speed cutting arcs no ordinary eye could follow.
But the man facing him now was no ordinary swordsman.
Shanks lowered his blade, eyes sharp and steady. The time for patience had passed.
The Yonko stepped forward.
Shanks raised his blade and narrowed his eyes. Then, without a word, he brought his sword up vertically before his chest. Golden light flared in his irises. The air around him shifted. His haki drew inward, flowing like a tide into the blade.
Buzz. Buzz.
The longsword began to vibrate. From the metal, waves of golden ripples shimmered outward, distorting the light.
"Saint Nasujuro," Shanks said calmly, "your end has come."
He moved his feet, aligning his entire body into one perfect motion. His Conqueror's Haki surged, and his sword pulsed with divine energy.
Then he swung.
"Divine Departure."
The blade unleashed a colossal arc of golden energy. The slash roared into the sky, wide as a cathedral and sharp enough to cut the sky. It locked onto Saint Nasujuro, and there was nowhere to run.
The elder's instincts screamed. He tried to flee, skeletal hooves thundering against the air, but Shanks' Observation Haki had already locked onto him.
He would not escape.
"No! No!" But it was already done.
Schoom.
The sword's light cut through the clouds. In a single instant, it engulfed Nasujuro.
His tyrannical presence vanished. Observation Haki across the battlefield registered the same conclusion. His aura dropped from overwhelming to near-death in a breath.
A few seconds passed.
Then, with a thunderous crash, a towering skeletal centaur slammed lifelessly into the shattered earth. Blood splattered across the broken ground as his body tore through stone and debris before coming to a halt, unmoving.
Saint V. Nusjuro defeated.
Shanks vs. Nasujuro. Clean victory.
"Black Blade Savage Star!"
Across the battlefield, several kilometers away, a golden arc of sword light tore through the heavens. The sky split open, dark clouds parted, and golden sunlight poured through the chasm like judgment.
Every fighter's Observation Haki flared to life.
Five Elder Saint Topman Warcury, Aura: near death.
Dracule Mihawk. Victory without effort.
A sudden gust scattered the lingering dust on Dragon's side of the battlefield. As the debris cleared, a massive crater more than a thousand meters wide revealed the shattered figure of Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro.
His body lay broken, bloodied, and unconscious. There was no sign of movement.
Another of the Five Elders had fallen.
Monkey D. Dragon. Unscathed.
Then came a deafening roar.
"Divine Armament - Buddha's Heavenly Judgment!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
From behind Buggy's towering wooden buddhas. The True Several Thousand Hands, two hundred titanic fists, wreathed in black-gold flames and purple lightning, surged forward. They descended like meteors, each strike a calamity of raw destructive force.
They struck their targets with devastating precision.
Sengoku, newly risen from the ruins, was consumed by the storm of fists. Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, clawing his way out of a crater, was caught in the onslaught as well.
The sky itself seemed to buckle under the pressure.
Several seconds later, the smoke cleared.
Sengoku's giant golden Buddha form had vanished. His body lay crumpled and unconscious, soaked in blood. On the opposite side, Ju Peter had reverted from his awakened form, white-eyed and slack-limbed.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
In the blink of an eye, both bodies were seized by thick, emerald vines that burst from the earth. The roots of the World Tree wrapped them in silence, dragging their broken forms into the soil.
All around the battlefield, those watching with sharpened senses confirmed the truth.
Five Elders Shepherd Peter. Dead.
Former Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Fate unknown.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
The World Government's elite had been reduced to dust and memory. They had reached the edge of collapse.
Every eye turned upward.
Floating above the battlefield stood a lone figure. Imu. The queen used to sitting on the Empty Throne. Her robes billowed in the high wind, but her expression remained unchanged.
There was no trace of fear on her face. Only contempt.
Then she spoke, and her voice echoed through the skies, calm and merciless.
"You've proven yourselves... useful. Far more than they ever were."
She surveyed them, eyes like bloodied glass, piercing each soul below.
"If you surrender now, I will allow you to cross the threshold of lowborns. I will make you the head of the world government."
A pause.
"You may choose now. Serve, or perish. This world is far too small." She raised her hand, fingers pointed to the heavens. "Only I am eternal."
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