Marineford seemed to breathe with difficulty.
The cold of the ice wall pressed against the skin, but the heat of war burned the bones. Each gust of wind carried the bitter scent of blood and gunpowder, mingled with the desperate whispers of men falling, dying, or losing their minds.
The plaza cracked.
The world, too.
At the heart of the chaos, Riser Phenex walked.
His black coat danced like living smoke. The Kamui rippled around his body, folding space, ignoring projectiles, blades, and beams of light that still dared to cross his path. The Sharingan spun slowly in his left eye, reflecting the carnage like a bored god.
Before him, Kizaru floated.
His golden body vibrated with subtle crackles. Each movement was a luminous taunt against the gray cold enveloping Marineford.
"Oooh… I think I've lost interest, Riser-chan."
The lazy smile hid relief.
'I can't win. And if I die… no one holds back the rest.'
Light burst beneath Kizaru's feet.
He vanished.
Not like a warrior retreating.
But like a spectator fleeing an inevitable collapse.
Riser merely smiled, not pursuing.
His golden gaze turned slowly back, where Garp advanced.
Fists clenched.
Eyes, two craters of fury and despair.
The hero of the Marines.
The grandfather.
The man who couldn't bear to watch his grandson's execution — nor stand still in a field dominated by Riser's shadow.
"If I can't save him… at least I won't watch."
Garp charged.
Each step was a thunderclap.
Haki exploded in waves around his aged but monstrously powerful body.
The ground sank beneath his feet.
Riser let the Kamui relax partially.
His smile was one of genuine amusement.
'Come, old lion.'
'Show me if you can still bite.'
Garp didn't hesitate.
His first punch tore the air like a meteor.
The Kamui wavered, but Riser hardened his left arm with pure Haki.
The impact shook the world.
The ice walls trembled.
Shards of concrete, ice, and metal exploded around them.
Marineford froze for a second.
The thunder of that clash echoed to the farthest ships.
Riser slid half a meter back.
His smile grew.
"Interesting."
Garp didn't answer.
The next blow came straight, fast, and brutal.
Riser sidestepped, the Sharingan anticipating every micro-shift in movement.
Garp's fist cut through empty air.
Riser's right arm responded — a short, cold elbow aimed at the ribs.
Garp hardened his torso with Haki.
The impact rang like a broken drum.
The old man staggered back two steps.
Blood trickled from his mouth — but he smiled.
"Don't think… you're invincible, kid."
Riser tilted his head.
"The invincible… don't need to defend."
The Kamui swirled around Riser's ankle.
His body vanished for an instant.
He reappeared behind Garp.
His fist, cloaked in black Haki, pierced the air like a silent spear.
Garp turned at the last second.
His forearm intercepted the strike.
Both slid meters across the ice.
Marines and pirates nearby were hurled through the air by the collision's wind alone.
The ground cracked.
The ice walls shuddered.
And above it all, a new rumble emerged.
---
Elsewhere on the field…
Kizaru materialized beside Kuzan.
Golden particles still floated around his body like remnants of a dying star. But his face, behind the dark glasses, had hardened — the usual indifference giving way to something rare: real tension.
"Oooh… trouble?"
The drawling voice carried a tremor of urgency he tried to hide.
Kuzan sighed deeply.
His left shoulder creaked under the weight of shattered ice, where Marco had struck him minutes before. Tiny cracks webbed his arm like fractured glass.
"Big trouble."
Before them, Edward Newgate — Whitebeard — drove his trident into Marineford's ground with a force that seemed to tear the world's foundations.
The earth groaned.
Fractures snaked beneath his feet like broken veins.
Each time the trident touched the ground, the air crackled in agony.
The waves, far beyond the frozen wall, trembled as if the sea itself sought to flee.
Above them, Marco soared.
The golden phoenix spat blue flames, gliding through pillars of smoke and ice, unleashing fiery slashes that tore through defenses like paper.
Kizaru clenched his fists.
Armament Haki coated his hands in deep black, his knuckles crackling with the weight of concentrated light.
"Let's see…"
The drawling voice faded in the icy wind's roar.
"…if two of us can hold a legend."
Kuzan tilted his face, eyes half-lidded in resigned expression.
"We won't hold."
He flexed his fingers, ice sprouting from his cracked skin like frozen thorns.
"We'll die trying."
Whitebeard smiled.
Not a wide smile — the kind warriors carry to execution fields.
The trident rose again.
The sound was different this time.
Not just a boom.
Not just a crack.
It was the sound of reality tearing — like an old cloak no longer able to hide the apocalypse about to fall upon them.
---
Nearby, Hancock advanced.
Each step was a divine affront.
Her heels echoed against the shattered marble, while the sound of petrified bodies fell like glass rain.
Soldiers, pirates, vice-admirals — none were spared.
Her beauty was crueler than any sword.
And today, the Empress of Amazon Lily didn't hesitate to wield it.
The tips of her fingers shimmered with Armament Haki, a black and lethal butterfly.
Three marines fell at once, turned to fragile statues before they could comprehend what hit them.
The battlefield before her seemed to bow.
Stone statues spread like makeshift graves, motionless shadows under the cracked sky.
Her black hair swirled in the wind, a living crown heralding the end of men who looked at her with desire or fear.
But her eyes…
Her eyes sought only one silhouette.
That figure in a black coat, untouchable amid ruins and chaos.
"Riser-sama…"
The whisper cut through the carnage like a thread of golden silk.
'Tell me to break the oath.'
'Order me to leave the Shichibukai behind.'
'Order me… to be only yours.'
The marines choked in desperation.
She was supposed to fight the pirates.
She was supposed to protect justice.
But Hancock destroyed anyone who approached — marines, pirates, vice-admirals, Pacifistas.
She was unstoppable.
She was impartial.
She was a calamity of grace and hate.
The marines' desperate voices cut the air:
"She… she's attacking everyone!"
"Why?!"
"She's a traitor!"
Swords clattered uselessly to the ground.
Bullets ricocheted off her Haki-hardened skin.
Nothing touched her.
Nothing hurt her.
Only the absence of a word kept her on edge.
She walked unhurried.
The black wings of Haki expanded around her like a storm about to be unleashed.
Her heart pounded firmly against her ribs, not from fear, but from raw hope.
'Speak to me, Riser-sama.'
'Speak, and I'll destroy the world for you.'
The wind carried the scent of blood and the sound of the Kamui warping space.
Ahead, among pirates and golden ruins, Riser Phenex raised his gaze.
And in that second…
The entire universe seemed to hold its breath.
---
High above, Sengoku watched it all.
His face tense, his heart crushed.
Each heartbeat seemed to herald more ruin.
'Akainu… dead.'
'Kuzan… holding the impossible.'
'Kizaru… hesitating.'
'Marineford… crumbling.'
His golden cape was stained.
His soul, too.
The old Fleet Admiral closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them… the decision was made.
His hands formed a strange seal.
A golden aura began to radiate from his body.
The transformation.
The Golden Buddha.
The last trump card.
The final roar of the old order.
---
In the shattered plaza, Garp attacked like an avalanche.
Riser danced between the blows.
Each punch dodged.
Each evasion precise.
His smile grew like an inevitable crack.
Because, deep down, he saw.
'He's not trying to kill me.'
'He doesn't fight like the hero who crushed legendary pirates.'
'He fights… to avoid seeing.'
'To avoid standing at history's gallows.'
Riser's elbow swung, slicing the air.
It struck Garp's shoulder with a hollow boom.
The old man faltered, his body holding on by sheer dignity.
Riser's knee rose in a sharp arc.
It hit Garp's Haki-hardened abdomen.
The impact echoed in the void.
Garp fell to his knees.
His breathing came ragged, heavy as molten steel.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, tracing dark lines on his wrinkled face.
But the old man smiled.
Not in victory.
Not in resistance.
But in resignation.
"You're strong."
His voice sounded broken, like old wood snapping in half.
"But you don't understand anything…"
Riser stepped closer, tilting his golden face like a patient inquisitor.
The Mangekyō spun with lazy cruelty.
"Then explain. Before I erase you."
Garp's gaze crossed the plaza.
Climbed the broken towers.
Reached the makeshift throne of execution.
Where Ace, his grandson, still shackled, looked down — at him.
"Family."
The word sounded like a prayer buried under centuries of war.
Riser froze.
His smile vanished like smoke.
The golden lines in his eyes dimmed for half a second.
'Family…'
His Haki-cloaked hand rose, nearly touching Garp's throat.
But stopped mid-motion.
The Kamui rippled silently around him.
Riser looked at the old man.
Saw the exhausted body.
Saw the heart still beating — not for glory, but for love.
And in that moment, he knew.
'Killing Garp now… would be pointless.'
'He's not the Marines.'
'He's just a man trying to survive his own failure.'
'A fight against him… balanced… will serve better.'
Riser smiled again.
This time, cold.
Calculated.
His black fist veered to the side.
It struck the ground beside Garp, shattering the ice in an explosion of shards.
The world trembled.
But Garp remained alive.
And the global broadcast captured it all.
The strength.
The mercy.
The dominance.
The theater of a king.
The ground vibrated beneath the titans' feet.
And then the air shifted.
The earth quaked.
The shadows grew.
The ice wall seemed to shrink before the new presence.
Above them, Sengoku's golden body — now Buddha — descended like a punishment from forgotten deities.
Riser's face curved into a lazy smile.
"The show goes on."
The Kamui whispered.
And Riser vanished amid spatial distortion, like smoke folding time.
Leaving Garp alive.
Leaving the world to watch.
Because, for a true king… destroying a symbol is only necessary at the right moment.
And Marineford… was preparing to be shattered for good.
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