"Inugami Guren...!!!" Akainu roared, his voice a thunderous boom of fury as he unleashed a colossal torrent of magma. The molten attack surged forward like a tidal wave of destruction, its blistering heat warping the air itself. It swallowed the remnants of the once-grand auction house, reducing the shattered ruins to nothing but smoldering ash.
He did not hold back—not for a second. He did not care for the unconscious bodies littering the battlefield, nor did he spare a thought for the collateral damage. To him, they were insignificant. The only ones who mattered—the so-called "gods" of this world—lay in pieces, butchered like livestock by the monster standing before him.
Every Celestial Dragon who had gathered at Sabaody for the auction was dead. Slaughtered. Torn apart. Their hollow screams had barely echoed before they were silenced, their divine blood painting the desecrated ground. And the one responsible? The demon of this nightmare?
Rosinante.
Even with the combined might of Admiral Akainu and the World Government's most feared enforcer, a God's Knight, they had failed. The Tenryuubito were supposed to be untouchable, protected by the strongest warriors the world had to offer. And yet, Rosinante had cut through them like a butcher culling chickens. The weight of their failure burned heavier than the molten heat in the air.
Akainu's attack raged forward, a furious embodiment of his wrath. But even as the monstrous magma hound lunged to consume everything in its path, the figure standing amidst the chaos remained utterly still. I didn't flinch. I didn't move.
Because in my eyes, this attack was nothing.
Akainu was powerful—undeniably so—but he was far from his peak. His strength, while formidable, had yet to reach its true potential. At best, he stood on the precipice of an Emperor's power, a mere shadow of what he could one day become. But even then, compared to the God's Knight who now emerged from the rubble, battered but still standing, Akainu was a lesser threat.
Yet, even together, they were hopelessly outmatched.
Lightning crackled around me, a deafening hum rising in the air as my power surged forth. From the depths of my being, a storm was unleashed. A massive domain of pure lightning erupted from my body, expanding outward in a brilliant explosion of light. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp within its reach, an illusory barrier of searing energy stretching for tens of meters in every direction.
The magma hound met my lightning.
The moment it collided, an earth-shaking explosion rocked the battlefield. Lava splashed in every direction, consuming what little remained of the auction house, turning wood, stone, and bodies alike into charred remnants. But the magma itself—unstoppable, insatiable—failed to breach the storm. It sizzled, cracking violently against the barrier, but it could not pass through.
Akainu's eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening as he beheld the sight before him. His face—already bloodied and bruised—contorted with frustration. He had fought many battles. He had burned countless enemies to nothing but ash. Yet here he was, his greatest power repelled like it was nothing.
He was losing.
The God's Knight, silent yet seething with raw power, gritted his teeth, gripping his weapon tighter as if steeling himself for the inevitable. He was strong, stronger than Akainu even—but strength meant nothing here.
Because against me, they had no chance.
Far in the distance, I sensed Lucci and the others had already escaped, taking the children and those still loyal to the Donquixote name with them. There was nothing left to hold me back.
I stepped forward, my presence alone making the very air tremble.
"Is that all?" I asked, my voice calm, unwavering.
"Damn you, pirate bastard! I'm taking your head today…!" Akainu roared, his entire body morphing into a seething mass of molten fury. Rivers of magma pulsed through his form, the sheer heat distorting the very air around him. But this time, he did something unexpected—he unsheathed a blade.
Sakazuki was no stranger to the way of the sword. Though rarely seen wielding one, his training in the art of the blade was formidable. However, his monstrous Devil Fruit had rendered it nearly unnecessary—brute force had always been his method of destruction. But here and now, facing Donquixote Rosinante, instinct demanded that he take this fight seriously.
Yet, it was not Akainu who showed the greatest caution.
The God's Knight, clad in his tattered uniform, stood rigid, his piercing gaze locked onto the young man before him. He wasn't blinded by rage like the admiral—he understood the true scale of the threat that loomed before them.
Until today, Rosinante had been seen as a potential danger, one who might, in time, reach the level of someone like Roger. But now, standing in his presence, feeling the oppressive weight of his aura—he knew.
This was no mere rising menace. Rosinante had ascended.
He had stepped into a realm where only the true apex predators of this world reigned. A monster beyond monsters.
The realization sent a chill through the God's Knight's core. He needed to report this to the Elders immediately. But there was no time. He had already dispatched a distress signal to the Holy Land, yet he remained unaware that I had anticipated this move long before the battle even began.
A wide-range jamming transponder snail had already cut off their communications. While they would eventually realize something was amiss, it would take time. And time… was all I needed to erase these pests from existence.
A serene yet resolute voice echoed through the inferno.
"Withering Blossom…"
From beyond the raging flames, a figure shot forth—a blur of steel and precision. Admiral Ginshimo. An old warhorse, one of the last true swordmasters of the previous era, descended upon me.
His blade, held in both hands, gleamed ominously as he drove it downward, the force behind it enough to split the very earth. I had already sensed his approach.
Shusui—the fabled black blade—whispered through the air as I raised it in response, meeting the Admiral's strike with absolute precision.
"CLANG!"
A deafening shockwave erupted upon impact, sending violent gusts surging outward. The very air quaked as our blades clashed, the sheer force of it carving fissures into the ground.
Ginshimo's eyes widened, pure terror flashing across his face. He knew this feeling. This overwhelming presence.
His mind raced to the warning whispered by the man who had bested him the reigning world's greatest swordsman—the one man even Dracule Mihawk had admitted he could not best.
"This… is him," Ginshimo realized, his blood running cold.
But before the realisation could fully settle—
"DIE…!"
Akainu, his rage blinding him, surged forward. Both arms, now massive pillars of magma, ignited the battlefield as he lunged, aiming to crush me with the sheer force of his burning wrath.
But in the instant before he could strike—
A scabbard.
A simple, worn scabbard, infused with Haki, hurtled through the air like a bullet. It slammed into Akainu's shoulder, forcing him to veer off course just slightly—enough to miss his intended mark.
"WHAT?!"
Akainu's fury turned toward the source of the interference—Ginshimo.
His bloodshot eyes blazed with pure hatred as he prepared to rip the old man apart for daring to get in his way. But before he could utter another word—
The very grove itself hummed. A massive ridge split the battlefield apart, the ground beneath them trembling as an unseen force warped reality itself.
The arc traced by Akatsuki split the entire grove in two. The very ground trembled as an enormous fissure tore through the battlefield, carving a deep wound into the earth. Trees, rubble, and bodies alike were swallowed by the yawning chasm, leaving nothing but a searing trail of destruction in its wake.
If not for Ginshimo's last-second interference, Akainu would have borne the full brunt of the attack. The same attack that had once carved Kaido's dragon horn clean off. If that strike had connected, Sakazuki might have died.
Ginshimo's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and unwavering.
"Sakazuki… set aside your pride if you want to live."
The old swordsman's face was grim, his grip on his blade tightening. His breathing was steady, but his heart pounded in his chest. The last attack—he hadn't even seen it completely. It had been too fast, even for someone of his caliber.
This young man before them—Donquixote Rosinante—had deliberately left himself open, baiting them in for a single decisive strike. And he had almost succeeded.
If not for instinct, Ginshimo did not dare to think of the consequences.
"You… I don't care for the Admiral position you currently hold or what kind of principles you hold…" Ginshimo growled, his aura surging with newfound determination. "If you want to walk out of this alive, stop overestimating yourself and get your head straight on your shoulders!"
With a sharp swing, he unleashed a barrage of flying slashes, each one large enough to carve through entire islands. The razor-sharp crescents of energy tore through the air, not just to attack but to force Rosinante back—to create the space Akainu needed to reposition himself.
At the same time, he turned his gaze toward the God's Knight, who had somehow recovered completely from the punishment he had endured earlier.
The knight merely sneered, but deep inside, he acknowledged the truth in the Admiral's words.If they didn't work together, none of them were leaving this battlefield alive.
Then, without warning, his body began to shift. A deep, guttural rumbling echoed through the grove as his form began to morph, his entire being pulsating with raw, ancient power. The very air thickened, suffused with a sinister, almost hellish aura. The battlefield itself seemed to recoil, as if some primordial beast of the underworld had been unleashed.
Then came the flames.
Black fire—deep, suffocating, and utterly devoid of warmth—erupted around him, licking at the ground and reducing it to scorched ruin. The light from the blaze did not illuminate. Instead, it cast shadows deeper than the abyss itself. And from within those flames, the beast emerged.
A monstrous, towering creature—at least thirty meters tall—stood before me. Its massive, three-headed form loomed over the battlefield, each of its maws seething with flickering hellfire. Its obsidian-black fur shimmered beneath the eerie glow of its own cursed flames, and from its eyes—six burning orbs of pure malevolence—radiated nothing but primal hunger.
Every breath it took was a deep, guttural growl, the very sound sending shockwaves of terror through the atmosphere. Its massive claws, each as long as a warship's mast, flexed with the restrained power to shred mountains apart.
The stench of sulfur and charred death filled the air, an overpowering omen of the beast's presence. The God's Knight of the World Government had transformed.
A Mythical Zoan. The Cerberus.
Its middle head, still smoldering with residual black flames, tilted slightly, regarding me with something far beyond mere animalistic instinct. There was intelligence in its gaze. A deadly, calculated intent to kill. The battle had just gone up a notch.
I pressed forward, cutting through every flying slash sent my way with the precise movements of Shusui and Akatsuki, weaving between the devastating arcs of energy with ease. Just as I was about to press my advantage, an explosion of pitch-black hellfire erupted toward me.
WHOOSH!
The massive pillar of cursed flames roared across the battlefield, forcing me to swing Akatsuki in a wide arc. With one precise, unstoppable slash, I cleaved through the attack, splitting the flames apart before they could reach me.
For a brief moment, a smirk played at my lips.
The World Government had always been known for hoarding the strongest Devil Fruits within their ranks. And this… this was proof. Before me stood a beast of nightmares, a guardian of the underworld incarnate.
A creature of myth, now made flesh. And yet…
Even as the black flames raged, even as the air thickened with death and destruction— I did not falter. Because no matter how terrifying the monster before me was… It was still just another obstacle in my path. And like all others before it— It would fall.
"Now this… this might actually be entertaining."
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders as I cracked my neck, my voice laced with unshaken confidence. My gaze swept over my opponents, but I made sure to lock eyes with Akainu, smirking as I taunted him directly.
"I hope you guys can at least make me sweat..."
Akainu's entire body tensed, his fury palpable. Despite the obvious chasm between our strength, he refused to acknowledge it. His pride, his unyielding ego, was both his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.
"MAGMA TIDE…!!!"
With a roar, Akainu thrust both hands into the ground, channeling his awakened magma powers. The earth itself shuddered as a colossal tidal wave of molten rock surged upward, ready to consume me whole.
But he had made a critical mistake— He underestimated me. He underestimated my speed.
"You sure do underestimate your opponents, Sakazuki-san…"
I chuckled, the very air crackling with electricity.
"Zephyr-sensei would be ashamed."
And in the very instant his palms touched the ground, I was already upon him. With the speed of lightning, I drove my knee—coated in advanced Armament Haki—directly into his face with brutal force.
"BOOM!!!"
The impact was devastating. Shockwaves rippled outward, the sheer force of the blow warping the air as Akainu's body was launched like a cannonball, sent hurtling across the battlefield.
He crashed into the trunk of a massive mangrove, the sheer impact snapping the gargantuan tree in half like a brittle twig. But I had no time to admire my handiwork. Ginshimo and the God's Knight were already upon me.
Despite my supreme speed, these two were no mere fodder. They moved in perfect unison, their attacks synchronized with deadly precision. A colossal, Haki-coated paw, wreathed in sinister black flames, came from one side. From the other, Ginshimo's blade gleamed with lethal intent, its edge carrying a technique forged through a lifetime of battle.
"Senbonzakura…!!!"
Ginshimo whispered the name of his attack, his voice as calm as death itself.
With an elegant yet deadly swing, his blade carved through the air, and in its wake, a breathtakingly lifelike illusion of scattering plum blossoms erupted into existence.
Thousands of razor-sharp petals, each one carrying the force of a swordsman's killing intent, swirled together—coalescing into a majestic dragon of shimmering petals, its vast form tracing the arc of the blade as it descended upon me.
I did not hesitate.
Both Shusui and Akatsuki pulsed with power, black lightning snaking across their edges, the sheer voltage splitting the air itself. My grip tightened.
"Niten Ichi-Ryu: Twin Dragon Rising…!!!"
With a single, decisive swing, I unleashed hell. Two colossal black dragons, forged from pure black lightning, erupted from my blades—one surging toward the massive petal dragon, the other toward the towering Cerberus.
Then, the clash. A cataclysmic detonation of raw power ripped through the battlefield. The petal dragon never stood a chance. The moment the black lightning dragon collided with it, the petals withered and burned, their beauty devoured by the merciless storm of electricity.
The air roared as the lightning dragon sank its fangs into the core of the petal construct—then, in a single burst of annihilation, it was consumed, torn apart at the very seams, obliterated into nothingness.
At the same time—
The second black lightning dragon collided head-on with the Cerberus beast. The monstrous three-headed creature roared, one of its jaws opening wide, preparing to unleash another torrent of hellfire—
But it was too late. The lightning dragon struck with surgical precision, its jaws clamping down upon the beast's leftmost head—and in a single, deafening rend, it ripped straight through. The massive Cerberus head split clean down the middle, the jagged wound exposing bone, sinew, and even brain matter.
The black flames that once wreathed its maw flickered and died, but—most horrifying of all—
The wound refused to heal.
The God's Knight howled in agony, his beastial wail shaking the heavens as his massive form was hurled backward, his gigantic frame crashing through grove after grove like a living meteor.
Ginshimo himself was sent flying, the force of the attack launching him hundreds of meters away. His body slammed into the earth with bone-shattering force, but in a desperate bid to stop himself, he plunged his sword into the ground.
The very act of doing so split the terrain apart, a massive ravine forming in the wake of his skid. Yet, even after stopping, his body trembled—his left limb scorched and numb, the remnants of crackling black lightning still lingering around his wounds.
He gritted his teeth, sweat beading down his temple. For the first time in decades…
He was feeling fear.
The air itself shuddered from the sheer force of our previous clash. The battlefield was a shattered warzone—scorched groves split in half, molten craters bubbled where Akainu's magma had touched, and the sky above still crackled with the remnants of my black lightning. The shockwaves of our battle had already torn apart the landscape, leaving nothing but destruction in our wake.
And yet—despite everything—they still stood.
Ginshimo had risen from the deep ravine he had carved to slow his momentum, though his left arm hung limply at his side, still trembling from the residual lightning of my previous attack.
Akainu had already recovered, his body steaming, his magma-infused blood dripping onto the ground as he clenched his fists. His eyes were filled with fury, but for the first time since the fight began, there was something else there—hesitation.
And the God's Knight…
The towering Cerberus beast, still wreathed in sinister black flames, let out a guttural snarl as he steadied himself. The wound on his leftmost head, the one I had split in two, still refused to heal. He had tried to force regeneration, but my black lightning had seared the flesh too deeply, preventing the wound from closing. The exposed skull and brain matter still sizzled as the remnants of my attack clung to his broken form.
For the first time, the three of them truly understood the gap between us. Yet, they did not flee. Instead, they took their battle stances, their wills hardened, their movements synchronized as they wordlessly prepared their counterattack. I couldn't help but smirk.
"Oh?" I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. "Finally getting serious?"I planted Akatsuki into the ground and cracked my knuckles.
"Come then." In the blink of an eye—they moved.
As the battlefield trembled, it was Ginshimo who first sensed the anomaly. As a seasoned swordsman, he had crossed blades with many legends, felt the weight of many cursed swords—but this was different. Something about that crimson blade was… wrong.
It was not just a sword. It was a monster. The moment it had cleaved through the God's Knight's head, Ginshimo had expected the famed mythical Zoan regeneration to repair the damage. It was one of the greatest advantages of those devil fruits—the ability to rise again, no matter how grievous the wounds.
But the wound on the God's Knight did not heal. Instead, the flesh festered. The severed tissues hissed and sizzled as though they had been touched by something far worse than fire.
A deep, lingering corrosion spread through the wound, tendrils of black lightning and crimson mist seeping from the cut flesh, creeping across the God's Knight's massive cerberus form like a curse that refused to let go.
Ginshimo's grip tightened on his sword. The more he focused, the clearer he felt it—
The malice. The pure, undeniable will emanating from that crimson blade. It was unlike any weapon he had ever encountered.
Even among Supreme Grade blades, it was something beyond mortal craftsmanship.
It was as if the sword itself had a hunger.
"Make sure to avoid that crimson blade at all costs!" Ginshimo shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos, making sure Akainu heard it as well. "It's cursed! And it seems to counter Devil Fruits!"
The God's Knight's remaining heads snapped toward him, his glowing eyes narrowing.
Counter… Devil Fruits? Impossible. There was no such blade in existence. Even Sea-Prism Stone, the greatest natural weakness of Devil Fruit users, only nullified abilities—it didn't corrode their very being.
But then—why? Why was the wound still festering? Why did he feel weaker with every passing second? The God's Knight gritted his fangs. There was no time to be indecisive. The curse was real. And if he allowed it to linger, it would cripple him.
A deep snarl rumbled from his massive chest as he made his decision. He did not hesitate.
With a sickening crunch, his massive middle maw and a paw came down in unison—and in one brutal motion, he severed his own head.
SPLURCH.
A massive gout of blackened blood erupted from the freshly torn wound, the lifeless head hitting the scorched battlefield with a heavy thud. The flesh around the severed area was completely rotted, still seething with remnants of black lightning.
But the moment it was discarded— The God's Knight's healing factor exploded into overdrive.
Squelch. Squelch.
Flesh morphed and twisted, bones snapped into place, and in an instant, a new head began to reform, regenerating at an astonishing speed.
Ginshimo watched with grim admiration. This was why Mythical Zoans were feared. Even after losing an entire limb or organ, they could restore themselves as long as their stamina held.
And yet—
Something was off. The new head, though identical to the others, lacked something. The once vibrant flames around its eyes dimmed, the hellish glow subdued, its body slightly hunched as if something had been permanently drained from it.
And Ginshimo knew what it was.
A piece of its very soul had been lost to that crimson blade. That was the true terror of Akatsuki. It was not just a sword. It was a devourer of existence. Ginshimo could see it clearly now.
In Rosinante's grip, Akatsuki pulsed, as if alive, its crimson edge gleaming, almost as if it was… yet to be satisfied. Ginshimo's hand tightened on his own blade. This man—this monster—was wielding a blade that even fate itself feared.
I stood in place, watching the God's Knight struggle to compose himself after his regeneration.
I raised Akatsuki, examining its blade with mild curiosity.
The black lightning that still coiled around it pulsed with a faint hunger, tendrils of blood-red energy licking the air like a predator that had just tasted its prey.
I could feel it. The sword's will. It was eager. Satisfied, but still hungry for more. I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders.
"That was smart," I mused, my eyes locking onto the God's Knight's new head. "Cutting off the cursed part before it could consume you entirely."
The massive Cerberus beast merely growled in response, his flames flickering uneasily.
I smirked.
"But…" I shifted my stance, leveling Akatsuki at him once more.
"It won't save you."