All around the world, voices rose in astonishment as the images from the battlefield played across countless screens.
"The battle has just begun, and it's already so intense!"
"Most of the World Government's forces haven't even moved yet!"
"Who's that long-haired man? I've never seen him before!"
Even Whitebeard's sharp eyes focused on the unfamiliar figure. He had never heard of such a Marine before—it seemed the Navy was truly going all out to deal with Ashveil this time. In sheer physical power, that man could likely rival even Garp.
"Heh heh heh… I've long heard that the Whitebeard Pirates are filled with monsters," Aramaki said with a sly grin, running a hand through his long hair. "Seeing it today, it's truly something extraordinary."
"Don't underestimate them, Aramaki," a calm yet powerful voice called out. The blind swordsman, Issho, landed gracefully nearby—his feet touching down on cannonballs that rained through the air. "They are some of the most renowned pirates in the world."
As they entered range, countless cannonballs filled the sky. Fire Fist Ace raised his arm, flames roaring to life. A massive fire fist shot upward, detonating the incoming barrage midair. Marco followed, blue phoenix flames spreading wide and burning apart what remained. Nearby, Doflamingo's fingers twitched subtly, and threads sliced through the air, exploding cannonballs before they could reach the Moby Dick.
Dracule Mihawk's golden eyes gleamed sharply as he rested his hand on the hilt of Yoru, the Black Blade. His lips curved slightly.
"Perfect," he murmured. "I can test the precision of Ashveil's sword technique."
With a slow, elegant swing, Mihawk sent a humming wave of darkness into the air. The black slash stretched a thousand meters before splitting into countless blades that fanned outward. For an instant, the entire sky looked aflame—fiery explosions blooming among the storm of swords, the sea below dyed crimson from the reflection.
Aramaki's eyes widened. "So this is the power of the World's Greatest Swordsman… truly terrifying."
All over the world, swordsmen stared in awe, their hearts pounding as they watched.
Fujitora tilted his head slightly, a faint smile on his lips. "The former Shichibukai, Mihawk… as a fellow swordsman, I'd very much like to cross blades with you." He unsheathed his cane sword, gravity swirling around it. A deep hum filled the air as his power surged.
"Aramaki," Fujitora said, voice suddenly stern, "we need to end this war quickly before it spirals further."
He swung his blade.
"Gravity Blade — Fierce Tiger!"
A colossal wave of gravitational force erupted outward, the air warping under its weight. A massive arc of energy tore across the battlefield, its presence heavy enough to crush everything in its path.
Mihawk's eyes narrowed. The sheer pressure was immense—this blind swordsman was far stronger than he appeared. He moved swiftly, releasing another slash to intercept, but the timing was too short. His earlier strike had drained his momentum.
Far away, Eustass Kid watched the live broadcast, his metal prosthetic arm clenching.
"So many monsters," he muttered. "That guy can control meteors? What kind of power is that?"
Beside him, Killer gave a low whistle beneath his mask. "They're all after Ashveil. If that many powerhouses are moving, he must be even more terrifying than they are."
Kid's jaw tightened, the air around him vibrating as nearby metal bent under his magnetic pull.
"That man… Ashveil… an existence beyond even the Pirate King. Can I ever surpass him?"
At Sabaody Archipelago, reporters scrambled before giant screens, snapping photo after photo.
"This is history!" one shouted, his voice trembling with excitement. "We must record every moment of it!"
---
On the battlefield, Mihawk's black slash collided with the descending meteor summoned by Fujitora. The heavens shook as the meteor shattered into countless fragments that scattered harmlessly into the sea.
Whitebeard readied his massive naginata, Murakumogiri, to deflect the remaining gravitational wave—when a sudden chill enveloped him. In an instant, he was frozen solid, encased in a towering block of ice.
From above, Aokiji hovered on his bicycle of frost, his breath visible in the air.
"Whitebeard… I can't let you run wild here," he said coldly. Among all the Whitebeard Pirates, only Ashveil and their captain posed real trouble. And for Whitebeard, Aokiji's ice was the perfect counter.
Diamond Jozu and Ace tried to rush forward to help, but Kizaru's light beams exploded before them, blocking their path in blinding flashes. The others prepared to resist Fujitora's attack, but Kaido and Big Mom intercepted them from above. The sky burned and crackled with fire and lightning, the atmosphere itself trembling beneath their combined might.
The weather turned chaotic—storms, fire, and thunder swirling together.
"Let's end this battle," Fujitora said grimly, his sword blazing with gravitational energy. Though he knew it wouldn't kill the pirates, the sheer destructive force could obliterate the Moby Dick entirely.
Then, a calm, indifferent voice echoed across the battlefield.
"This is getting dull," Ashveil said softly. "Seems the Gorosei have no intention of moving." His tone was casual, yet it carried across the chaos.
He had wanted to witness the powers of the Five Elders firsthand, but the longer he watched, the more unimpressed he became. Their lack of involvement only deepened his boredom.
With a faint sigh, Ashveil lifted his hand. A wave of Conqueror's Haki burst forth, unseen yet overwhelming. Fujitora's Fierce Tiger slash halted midair, suspended as though the world itself had frozen.
The Admiral's face tensed. "This guy… finally decided to act." He gripped his sword tightly.
"Hell Tiger!" he roared. A crushing gravity surged down upon Ashveil, the deck of the Moby Dick cracking beneath the immense force. But Ashveil's expression didn't waver.
With nothing more than a thought, his Conqueror's Haki multiplied in strength, a pressure a hundred times greater than Fujitora's gravity. In the next instant, the Admiral was gone—crushed straight through the deck, leaving behind only a vast crater where he had stood.
Aramaki froze, his confident smirk fading. His gaze locked on Ashveil, dread creeping up his spine. With one effortless strike, Ashveil had erased Issho Fujitora—a man once hailed as a "monster" of the Marines' Great Conscription.
The battlefield fell silent for a heartbeat.