It had been more than three grueling days since the battle between Miguel and Shiki began. Their clash had pushed both their physical endurance and spiritual will to their absolute limits. Far from God Valley now, the two titans remained locked in a continuous, high-speed, high-impact duel — with no clear victor in sight.
Miguel had only grown stronger through the course of the fight. As the hours passed, he began tapping deeper into his potential, awakening powers and instincts previously dormant. Shiki, still in his prime, showed why he was once a rival to legends like Gol D. Roger and Whitebeard. His relentless attacks, cunning tactics, and devilish stamina kept him in the fight.
Miguel swung his sword with precision, intercepting a powerful dual-blade strike from Shiki. Seizing the moment, he launched a lightning-fast kick that forced Shiki to block — just as planned. Using the opening, Miguel unleashed a slash infused with Conqueror's Haki, which landed squarely on Shiki's torso. Though the pirate legend had managed to coat the area in Armament Haki to dull the blow, the force still hurled him backwards.
Without hesitation, Miguel transformed into lightning and blitzed forward, pressing the advantage. Shiki, slightly delayed in regaining his balance, reacted just a second too late — and Miguel's blade cleaved off one of his arms. Had he not dodged instinctively to the side, the strike would have cut him clean in half.
Following the momentum, Miguel swung again, but Shiki's remaining arm raised in time to block the attack. The two clashed once more, their bodies trembling with the weight of each other's will, before both were blown apart by the impact.
Floating in the sky, Miguel narrowed his eyes at Shiki, who — to his surprise — calmly floated the severed hand back to his wrist. With a mix of Fuwa Fuwa no Mi powers and grit, Shiki used the dirt around him to fuse the limb back to his body.
"Hahahahaha! I admire your madness, Shiki," Miguel said, catching his breath. "It seems your reputation wasn't just for show."
Shiki grinned, bloodied but undeterred. "You think this is the first time I've lost a hand? Shihahahaha! You underestimate the sea, boy — and that might just kill you."
With a flick of his fingers, Shiki demonstrated frightening mastery of his Devil Fruit. Every movement of his arm manipulated his floating, haki-coated severed hand in perfect sync, using it as if nothing had happened.
Their battle resumed — but now Miguel noticed something: Shiki was favoring his left side. Though still deadly, he was adjusting, relying more on one arm than two.
Suddenly, Shiki raised his hand and disassembled the island ship beneath them. Thousands — even hundreds of thousands — of compressed stone fragments hovered in the air like bullets, all trained on Miguel.
Still, Miguel showed no fear.
He calmly sheathed his sword and closed his eyes.
Moments later, he opened them with an intensity like a storm.
"Wind Wall!" he shouted, raising his hands. A massive updraft surged upward, forming an impenetrable wall of swirling wind. The barrage of stone bullets struck it head-on but shattered harmlessly, as though colliding with a solid fortress of air.
Miguel then unsheathed his sword once more and swung.
A giant tornado erupted from the blade, roaring toward Shiki. The vortex's pull was so powerful that even Shiki, despite his flight abilities, found himself being drawn in.
As the Golden Lion struggled within the storm, Miguel charged with lightning speed.
"Final Breath."
Miguel vanished in a blur, and in less than a second, delivered over a thousand sword strikes, each one more precise and devastating than the last. He passed right through Shiki, landing softly behind him.
Sheathing his sword, Miguel stood still.
The tornado dissipated in an instant.
A heartbeat passed — and then Shiki's body exploded into a fountain of blood. All that remained intact was his head, floating lifelessly in the air.
Miguel had ended it.
With the death of the Golden Lion, the floating islands Shiki once controlled began plummeting from the sky, one by one. Miguel floated silently, his expression unreadable, as he felt Shiki's abilities — his swordsmanship, Observation, Armament, and Conqueror's Haki — merge into his own. His sword absorbed the power of Shiki's Devil Fruit, sealing the legacy of the pirate into Miguel's arsenal.
Then, like a storm descending, Miguel turned toward the remaining crew of the Golden Lion Pirates, still aboard the collapsing island ship.
Without mercy, he transformed into electricity, using his newfound mastery over the Fuwa Fuwa no Mi to halt the island's fall, suspending it midair — just as Shiki once did.
Then Miguel began his merciless purge.
One by one, he hunted down every remaining member of the Golden Lion Pirates, offering no quarter. The once-proud pirates, many of them seasoned fighters from the New World, were caught between fear and disbelief. Some still clung to the delusion that Miguel — after battling Shiki nonstop for three days — must be exhausted, weakened, vulnerable.
But they were dead wrong.
What they didn't know was that Miguel possessed infinite stamina, granted by the power of Sommers, a gift that made fatigue a mere concept to him. Even if he were to push his body to its absolute limits, his recovery was instantaneous. To Miguel, the grueling three-day fight was nothing more than a warm-up.
In less than an hour, Miguel slaughtered hundreds of New World pirates.
Veterans, commanders, newcomers, and elites — none escaped.
By the time the bloodbath was over, the sky was clear, the wind eerily silent, and the only sound left was the slow creaking of the floating fortress — now devoid of life.
Miguel hovered over the ship for a moment, surveying the carnage. Then, in a rare moment of calm, he began lowering the island slowly toward the sea. There was no rush now. His vengeance was fulfilled. His enemies vanquished.
Though his body remained untouched by exhaustion, his mind was heavy — drained by the intensity of the past three days. Not from the strain of battle, but from the unbroken tension, the constant awareness, and the emotional weight of his decisions.
As the floating island gently touched the ocean's surface, Miguel let out a slow breath.
He didn't need sleep — but rest was something else entirely.
And for the first time in days, Miguel allowed himself to simply... breathe.