"Souta Kiryuu! How did you learn that power from Imu?"
Two enormous dragons, one azure and one crimson, sliced through the sky at breakneck speed, their combined aura crashing down like a tidal wave that forced the strongest warriors below to scatter.
Beast Emperor Kaido's massive body, once torn and bloodied, had already regenerated. Though his breathing was still uneven, his eyes burned with curiosity as he shouted over the wind. To a man who lived and died by strength, a power greater than Conqueror's Haki itself was an irresistible lure.
"That power is called the Power of Origin," Souta said, his gaze fixed on the fading red dragon in the distance. "It's the fundamental essence of the world—more mysterious and terrifying than Haki or Devil Fruits."
"The Power of Origin...?" Kaido growled, stunned. "So such a force really exists... Then Rocks and Roger were wrong. Conqueror's Haki wasn't the ultimate strength after all."
Madness flickered in Kaido's eyes. All his life, he'd only respected a handful of men—Rocks D. Xebec, Roger, and Whitebeard. Yet none of them were the strongest in the world. That title belonged to Imu, the hidden ruler who commanded a force no emperor or pirate king could comprehend.
And now this brat, Souta Kiryuu, had surpassed even that threshold. The realization burned Kaido from the inside out. Souta had achieved in his twenties what had taken him decades of blood, war, and chains.
Kaido's memories flashed by like lightning.
Eight years old, he enlisted in his kingdom's army.
Ten, he became its mightiest warrior.
Thirteen, sold by his own king to the Navy and escaped with a bounty of seventy million.
Fifteen, he wandered into the New World, joined the Rocks Pirates on Hachinosu.
Twenty-one, fought in the God Valley War, received his mythical Zoan fruit from Big Mom—his Azure Dragon form.
He had barely mastered that power before the World Government captured him, experimented on him like an animal, drained his blood. At twenty-six, he broke free with King and founded the Beasts Pirates, building an army from the ashes.
At thirty-one, he invaded Wano at the invitation of the Kurozumi siblings, seized the seastone mines, and hunted for the ancient weapon Pluto.
Three years later, Roger became Pirate King, and Oden returned home. Kaido didn't face Oden head-on at first. He plotted, schemed with Orochi, afraid Roger's crew might intervene—afraid, perhaps, of Oden himself, whose dual-sword Conqueror's Haki surpassed his own.
After deceiving Oden into dancing for his people, Kaido spent years honing his own Conqueror's coating.
At thirty-six, he annihilated Moria's crew.
At thirty-nine, he finally faced Oden in open war—and nearly lost. Oden's twin blades carved two eternal scars into his flesh. If not for Orochi threatening Oden's son, Kaido doubted he could have won that day.
After Oden's death, Kaido ruled Wano, his empire growing until, at forty, he ascended as one of the Four Emperors.
It had taken him more than thirty years to reach that summit. Red-Haired Shanks had done it at thirty-three. And Souta Kiryuu—this young upstart—had surpassed even the Emperors, the Admirals, and the Five Elders before reaching thirty.
Kaido's pride roared in his chest like a caged beast.
"So... how do you learn this 'Power of Origin'?" he asked through gritted teeth. The words cost him more pride than any defeat. This kid was younger than his daughter Yamato, yet stronger than him.
Souta smiled faintly. "You want to learn? I could teach you. But first... we finish what's in front of us."
He didn't reject Kaido outright, though his tone made it clear—the Power of Origin wasn't something freely given. Souta and Isaac both knew that power spread too far became disaster. Only in their hands could it remain under control.
And mastering it wasn't as simple as practice. It demanded monstrous talent, unyielding will, and deep understanding of both the body and the world. Even the Five Elders—ancient monsters who had lived for centuries—couldn't wield it. Only Imu, the shadow king of the world, had ever truly grasped it.
Isaac had come close—a genius among geniuses, gifted with the perfect blend of talent, intellect, and obsession. But even he had been shackled by his birth, crushed under the suspicion of the Five Elders. Fate had simply dealt him the misfortune of meeting Souta Kiryuu—a man even more impossible.
Kaido snorted. "Tch." With a powerful beat of his wings, he descended toward the battlefield below.
The carnage of the G-18 Fortress War stretched beneath him. The Beasts Pirates had paid a steep price. Two of the Flying Six were dead. Four of the Ancient Giants, his prized Brawlers, lay in ruins. Countless Zoan soldiers—real and artificial—were slaughtered.
The entire Beasts fleet had been gutted after brutal clashes with both the Navy and Shanks' armada. Half gone, maybe more.
But Shanks' fleet had fared even worse—virtually annihilated. The Navy's main forces, too, had suffered over seventy percent casualties. Souta's own Draconian Corps, fresh from Impel Down, had been nearly wiped out under the combined assault of the Marines and Whitebeard's remnants.
And the Whitebeard Pirates themselves... their commanders and allies had been butchered by the Five Elders. Big Mom's crew lost a Sweet Commander and several of her children. Tens of thousands lay dead—pirates, marines, innocents—crushed in the wake of titans.
Whitebeard's quakes, Aokiji's frozen storms, Imu's shadow spears, the surges of Conqueror's Haki from dozens of monsters—each wave of destruction killed thousands more.
This war would reshape the New World forever.
Whitebeard, dead. His throne among the Four Emperors, empty.
Shanks, disgraced—his great armada destroyed.
The Hive Island King defeated.
The Navy's New World bases obliterated. The World Government's power there collapsing.
All that remained were territories, ripe for the taking. The New World would soon drown again in the blood of those who sought to claim them.
"Kaido! Souta!" Big Mom's thunderous voice tore through the air. She glared up at the two dragons, fury twisting her face. "Are we chasing Shanks—or those damn Marines?"
Her tone was raw, unstable, the voice of a titan drunk on rage.
The two dragons circled above her, their wings stirring storms as the New World—battered and broken—braced for its next nightmare.