Chapter 158: Despair of the Beast Warriors!
The vast expanse of the frozen sea, created moments ago by the terrifying power of General Esdeath, had transformed into a chaotic hellscape of colliding powers.
The ice field, originally a flat sheet of white, was now fractured into three distinct domains of destruction, each hosting a battle that could easily reshape the map of the New World.
The air itself screamed, torn apart by the clash of Haki, magic, and brute physical force.
[Battlefield 1: The Ice Queen vs. The Red Hair]
"White Beak!"
A command, cold and imperious, cut through the howling wind.
General Esdeath stood atop a towering pillar of ice; her white military uniform pristine against the backdrop of destruction. With a delicate flick of her rapier, the atmosphere responded. Moisture in the air instantly crystallized, forming hundreds of razor-sharp ice spears, jagged icicles, and rotating blades.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Like a blizzard given sentient malice, the barrage launched toward Shanks from every conceivable angle. There were no blind spots. The sky was blotted out by the sheer volume of frozen death.
Esdeath's eyes, burning with the blue light of the Teigu Demon's Extract, narrowed in calculation. In just a few exchanges, she had dissected her opponent's capabilities.
'He is fast. His sword technique is flawless, and that strange energy coating his blade... it disrupts the structure of my ice,' she analyzed, a sadistic smile curling her lips. 'A top-tier swordsman proficient in close-quarters combat. If I let him close the distance, it might be troublesome. But...'
This wasn't a duel to her. It was a hunt.
"Struggle more," she whispered, her voice carrying a terrifying excitement. "Let me see how long a lion can dance in a cage of winter."
Across the field, Shanks's expression remained unreadable, though his eyes were sharp as eagle's. He gripped his famous blade, Gryphon, with his single right hand. The black cloak on his shoulders snapped violently in the gale.
As the torrent of ice descended, the Emperor of the Sea moved.
He didn't retreat. He weaved.
His figure became a blur of motion, a phantom slipping through the microscopic gaps in the ice storm. Observation Haki—refined to the point of glimpsing the future—painted the trajectory of every shard in his mind before it was even launched.
Clang! Shatter!
A massive icicle, thick as a tree trunk, aimed for his heart. Shanks merely pivoted his heel, the blade of Gryphon flashing upward in a minimalist arc. The ice shattered into sparkling dust instantly.
He stepped to the left, and three ice spears embedded themselves into the spot he had occupied a millisecond prior, penetrating deep into the frozen ocean floor.
However, Esdeath was not merely throwing ice; she was manipulating the battlefield itself.
"Too slow," Esdeath mocked.
Beneath Shanks's boots, the vibration of the ice changed.
Crack!
Without warning, the ground erupted. Thicker, darker spikes of compressed permafrost shot upward like the jaws of a subterranean beast, aiming to skewer the Yonko from below.
Shanks's pupils contracted. "I won't be hit that easily!"
He ceased his evasion. The playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the overwhelming pressure of a King.
Zzzzt!
Thick streaks of black and crimson lightning exploded from his body, coiling around Gryphon. The atmosphere grew heavy, forcing the very air to submit to his will.
"Get back!"
Shanks swung his blade horizontally. It wasn't just a cut; it was a wave of pure dominance.
BOOM!
A crescent-shaped flying slash, imbued with Conqueror's Haki, tore through the world. The thousands of ice blades, the rising spikes, and the very blizzard Esdeath had summoned were pulverized instantly, turning back into harmless snow.
The shockwave cleared a fan-shaped area of the ice field, revealing the dark water beneath for a split second before it froze over again.
Shanks prepared to kick off the ground, intending to use this opening to close the gap and bring the fight into his range. But before he could take a step, a massive wall of ice, reinforced and denser than steel, shot up from the ground, blocking his path to the General.
"Tch." Shanks halted, his brow furrowing deeply.
He looked up. Esdeath was floating higher on a platform of ice, looking down at him like a goddess viewing a bug.
"You broke my toys," she said, her voice dripping with dangerous disappointment. "I'll have to make something sturdier."
Shanks sighed, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "This woman... her stamina is endless. And that ice isn't normal. Dealing with her is going to be a headache."
[Battlefield 2: The Guardian vs. The Strategist]
If the first battlefield was a display of elemental dominance, the second was a terrifying game of cat and mouse—played by a prehistoric monster and a master tactician.
"Annoying bug! STOP MOVING!"
ROAR!
Albedo, the Overseer of the Guardians of Nazarick, let out a roar that shook the ice shelf. Her black armor, Hermes Trismegistus, absorbed the ambient light, making her look like a void in the shape of a woman.
In her hands, the World Item-level bardiche, 3F, swung down with the force of a collapsing building.
CRASH!
The axe head slammed into the ice, missing its target by inches. The impact didn't just crack the ice; it obliterated it, sending a shockwave that carved a bottomless rift into the frozen sea. Seawater geysered up, freezing instantly in the cold air.
Benn Beckman, the Vice-Captain of the Red Hair Pirates, tumbled and rolled, his movements efficient and desperate.
"Dangerous, dangerous," Beckman muttered, the cigarette in his mouth miraculously unlit.
He didn't dare to stop. He knew instinctively that a single hit from that axe would turn him into paste, regardless of his Haki defense.
"You little rat!" Albedo screamed, her beautiful face twisted into a mask of demonic fury. "Face me! Let me crush you for Lord Suzaku's glory!"
Beckman spun on his heel, his flintlock rifle raised.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three shots rang out in rapid succession. The bullets, wrapped in high-density Armament Haki, flew straight and true.
Ping! Ping! Ping!
The bullets struck Albedo's helmet and chest plate. But instead of piercing, they ricocheted off harmlessly with a high-pitched metallic ring, leaving not even a scratch on the divine metal.
Albedo didn't even flinch. She ran through the gunfire as if it were a gentle rain.
"Is that it?" Albedo laughed, a dark, throaty sound. "Your toys are useless against me!"
Beckman's eyes narrowed as he reloaded while sprinting backward. 'Her defense is impenetrable. My Haki-clad bullets are like pebbles against a battleship. She has immense brute strength and defense... a classic tank build, but with absurd stats.'
Sweat began to bead on Beckman's temples. He was guiding her away from the main battlefield, using the terrain to his advantage, but the mental toll was immense. He had to be perfect. One slip, one second of hesitation, and he was dead.
"I need to find a weak point," Beckman thought, his mind racing through hundreds of tactical scenarios. "Joints? Eyes? Or maybe... does she have a limit to her stamina?"
Behind him, Albedo leaped into the air, her black wings spreading wide, blotting out the sun.
"DIE!"
[Battlefield 3: The Trio vs. The Officers]
Near the trapped Red Force, the situation for the Red Hair Pirates was arguably the most desperate.
The core officers—men who had sailed the New World for decades, men who laughed in the face of Marine Admirals—were currently fighting for their lives against three "maids."
"Watch out! Don't let the sword touch you!"
Yasopp's warning screamed from his sniper perch on the ship's mast, his voice cracking with fear.
On the ice below, Akame moved like a crimson shadow. Her presence was almost non-existent until she struck.
Swish!
The Demon Sword Murasame sliced through the air, aiming for the neck of Officer Snake.
Snake, a navigator and swordsman, wielded his twin sabers in a desperate acrobatic dance. He parried, not the blade itself, but the air around it, terrified of making contact.
"Damn it! What kind of pressure is this?" Snake gritted his teeth, cold sweat soaking his back. Even through his Observation Haki, the blade felt like death incarnate. His instincts screamed that a single scratch meant the end.
Next to him, the ship doctor, Hongō, swung his long metal staff to cover Snake's retreat. "Back off, Snake!"
Akame pivoted mid-air, her red eyes devoid of emotion. "Eliminate."
She kicked off the ice, bypassing Hongō's guard with unnatural speed.
But before the officers could regroup, the environment turned against them.
"El Humya!"
Ram, the pink-haired maid, raised her hand. Wind magic, sharp and invisible, coalesced into blades of vacuum.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Lucky Roux, the rotund combatant known for his lightning-fast speed, tried to roll forward to tackle Akame, but he was instantly boxed in by Ram's wind blades.
"Whoa!" Lucky Roux spun his body, his Armament Haki coating his clothes like armor. The wind blades struck him, sparks flying as if they were hitting steel. "This magic... it's tricky!"
"Don't ignore Rem!"
From above, a blue blur descended. Rem wielded her massive flail—a spiked iron ball on a chain—swinging it with terrifying centrifugal force.
"Hah!"
CRUSH!
The morningstar slammed into the ice right between Lucky Roux and Hongō, shattering the frozen surface and sending chunks of ice flying like shrapnel. Rem didn't stop. She spun the heavy weapon as if it were a toy, creating a zone of absolute denial.
"Ice Magic: Huma!"
Rem extended her free hand. Huge jagged crystals of water ice materialized and shot toward the scattered officers like heavy artillery.
The Red Hair officers were forced into a tight defensive circle, back-to-back.
"Hey! Things aren't looking good!" Hongō shouted, breathless, as he deflected an ice spear with his staff. "We can't even break through the defensive line of three women! If this continues, forget helping the Captain, we'll be exhausted to death right here!"
"Shut up, Hongō!" Snake roared, his twin swords moving in a blur to block Akame's relentless assassination attempts. "We are the Red Hair Pirates! The word 'surrender' isn't in our dictionary!"
"Exactly!" Lucky Roux bit into a chunk of meat, his eyes fierce. He charged forward again, glowing with Haki, ignoring the wind blades cutting his skin. "After all these years of facing mountains of swords and seas of fire, what hurdle haven't we overcome! For the Captain, take them... DOWN!"
"OOOHHH!"
The officers roared in a collective unison, a war cry designed to shake off the creeping fear in their hearts. They lunged forward, their Haki flaring to its peak, desperate to turn the tide.
[The Spectators: Deck of the Vermillion Wing]
Miles away from the chaotic melee, on the deck of the colossal black warship Vermillion Wing, the atmosphere was jarringly relaxed.
Suzaku leaned casually against the adamantine railing, the sea breeze ruffling his dark hair. He watched the desperate struggle of the Yonko crew below with a faint, playful smile, as if watching a gladiator match in a coliseum.
"Yo," Suzaku mused, tapping his chin. "These guys have a lot of spirit. I'll give them that."
"Hahahaha! That's the passion of youth!"
Standing beside him, the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, laughed heartily. The legendary shinobi wore his red armor, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes sparkled with genuine excitement.
"Suzaku, kid! Do you need me to go down and lend a hand?" Hashirama asked, flexing his fingers. "Watching them fight... even these old bones of mine are getting fired up! That red-haired man has a powerful spirit!"
"Hashirama, don't rush." Suzaku chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "When we reach Wano Country, you'll have plenty of opportunities to stretch your legs. Kaido is a durable punching bag. For now, just enjoy the performance of our companions."
Suzaku's gaze shifted to the three battlefields, his eyes softening with pride.
"Don't underestimate them just because they are women," Suzaku said softly. "My crew... they are very strong."
Leaning against the cabin wall, the pale Espada, Ulquiorra Cifer, nodded slowly. His hands were buried in his pockets, his green eyes analyzing the data of the battle.
"Albedo is... efficient," Ulquiorra stated in his hollow, emotionless voice. "Her defensive parameters exceed standard projections. If you were to intervene now, Suzaku-sama, she would likely view it as a personal failure. Her devotion is... extreme."
"Hahaha, is that right? Looks like I misspoke again!" Hashirama scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly.
Behind this group of monsters, the members of the Mink Tribe stood frozen in varying states of shock.
Carrot, the rabbit mink, had her paws pressed over her mouth, her large ears drooping. Her eyes were wide, trembling as she watched the distant figures.
She had traveled with them for days. She knew Akame as the quiet girl who loved to eat meat. She knew Ram and Rem as the polite, identical maids who served tea and cooked delicious meals.
But now?
She watched as Akame moved with the aura of a grim reaper, harvesting lives. She saw the gentle Rem swinging a spiked ball that could crush a giant.
And the new women?
Albedo was like a demon god from mythology, possessing strength that defied logic. Esdeath was controlling the very elements, toying with one of the Four Emperors of the Sea as if he were a plaything.
The Minks, a warrior race who prided themselves on their combat ability, felt their worldviews shattering.
"We... we wanted to help?" Wanda, the canine mink, whispered, her voice shaking. "We thought Lord Suzaku was being arrogant by telling us to stay back?"
The Minks exchanged glances. They saw the deep shock and lingering fear reflected in each other's eyes.
In a battle of this caliber—a clash between monsters and legends—the Mink Tribe would have been nothing more than cannon fodder. If they had rushed in, they would have been frozen, crushed, or sliced apart in seconds.
They looked at the back of Suzaku, who stood calmly amidst this gathering of titans.
For the first time, the Minks didn't just feel gratitude or admiration for their savior. They felt a profound, bone-deep reverence.
[Akarin Note:
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