The air over the scarred heart of Ohara was thick with the scent of energy and cold iron. Three figures stood locked in a deadly triangle, their conflict having shed its skin of grand spectacle for something far more primal. The frozen swamp was gone, the reapers were absent, and the only light came from the fading day and the occasional spark of hardened will meeting hardened steel.
Darcule Marya stood between them, Eternal Eclipse held in a high guard, her breathing measured. Her leather jacket was scored in places, her denim shorts dusted with frost and dirt, but her boots were planted firm. She was no longer the mistress of mist and void; she was a swordswoman, pure and simple.
Darcy Rue, her awakened Ammit form a hulking monument of scales and divine wrath, let out a guttural snarl. Her executioner's sword, sheathed in Haki so potent it seemed to emanate malice from the air, came down in a cleaving arc meant to split Marya in two. At the same moment, Garrett Hasapis lunged from the side, Stinger alive in his grip, the blade morphing mid-thrust to unleash a spray of paralytic resin from its tip while the point itself sought her kidney.
Marya did not dissolve into mist. She did not call upon the void. Her golden eyes, narrowed to slits, saw the path. She flowed backward one precise step, the massive sword whistling past her chest, the fabric of her shirt stirring. In the same motion, she twisted her wrist, bringing the flat of Eternal Eclipse around to meet Garrett's thrust. The clang of impact was sharp and clear, the resin spattering harmlessly against the obsidian blade, sizzling as it was repelled by her own flaring Armament Haki.
It was a boxing match, and Marya was the counter-puncher, letting the heavy hitters wear themselves out on her defense.
"Your mother died screaming for a history that never mattered!" Darcy roared, trying to shatter her calm as her sword couldn't. "Your father is a hermit clinging to a title! You have nothing!"
"The sword finds your heart rate elevated," Garrett stated, his voice a monotone as Stinger lashed out again, this time with segments peeling back into sharp, whipping limbs. "Your composure is a facade."
Marya heard the words, but they were distant noises, like the cawing of gulls. Her mind was a still pool, reflecting only the immediate threats. The whispers of the void coiled in the back of her consciousness, a seductive hiss. Let me out. Let me play. I can make them silent forever.
She ignored it. Instead, she heard the ghost of her father's voice on Kuraigana Island: "A sharp blade is worthless without a sharper mind." She felt the memory of Shanks' good-natured, yet impossibly fast, disarming strikes during a party. She recalled Scopper Gaban's gruff lessons on Elbaph about economy of motion and reading an opponent's intent in the micro-twitches of their muscles.
She ducked under a horizontal sweep from Darcy, the wind of it ruffling her hair, and simultaneously used the momentum to spin into a low kick that swept at Garrett's ankles, forcing him to leap back. She was a vortex of calm in their storm, her Observation Haki painting the future in fleeting, brilliant glimpses that her body obeyed without question.
Frustration mounted in the God's Knights. They were the pinnacle of the World Government's enforcers, their power and teamwork enough to topple nations. Yet this one woman, using nothing but the most fundamental skills of combat, was evading, blocking, and countering their every coordinated assault. They unleashed everything—Darcy's soul-rending aura, Garrett's symbiotic, adaptive blade-work, their combined, advanced Haki—and still, they could not corner her. She was like water, slipping through their fingers.
Finally, with a shared, unspoken signal, they disengaged. Darcy landed with a heavy thud, her chest heaving, while Garrett retreated several paces, Stinger clicking back into a solid form, a faint, irritable tremor running through the blade.
A significant gap opened between them, the three combatants pausing in a silent, heavy truce. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant cries of other, concluding battles.
Marya stood poised, Eternal Eclipse held ready. Her gaze was locked on them, but it was glazed over, turned inward. A deep, deadly focused scowl was etched on her face, a mirror of the expression her father was known for across the seas. It was the look of a predator calculating the single, most efficient killing stroke.
Darcy and Garrett exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a cold, professional assessment.
"Her form is flawless," Garrett murmured, his analytical mind struggling to find a weakness. "There are no openings to exploit. Only… waiting."
Darcy's crocodilian snout twisted. "She's not even using her Devil Fruit. She's toying with us." Her voice was a low, furious rumble. She stared at Marya's unwavering stance, the sheer, unshakeable confidence that radiated from her. A terrifying thought, once unthinkable, now forced its way into her mind.
"If this…" Darcy whispered, her voice barely audible, "...is his shadow…"
Garrett finished the thought, his own usual detachment cracking for the first time with a sliver of dread. "Then what in the name of the Empty Throne is he?"
The frozen ground of Ohara crunched underfoot as Atlas, Jelly, Galit, Jannali, and Aokiji arrived at the edge of the final confrontation. Before them, the scene was a frozen tableau of tension. Darcule Marya stood motionless between the two circling God's Knights, her chest rising and falling with steady, deep breaths. The very air seemed to thicken around the trio, heavy with the promise of a storm about to break.
"So… should we…?" Jannali asked, her voice a low murmur as she hefted Anhur's Whisper.
Jelly bounced on the spot, his gelatinous form quivering with nervous excitement. "Bloop! Let's do this!"
"No," Aokiji said, his voice a calm, deep rumble that cut through the tension. His arms were crossed, his posture that of a man settling in to watch a play. "We would only get in the way."
Galit's long neck twisted to glance at the former Admiral, a sharp, analytical look in his emerald eyes. "That says a lot, coming from you."
A faint, knowing smirk touched Aokiji's lips, his gaze never leaving Marya. "I just want to sit back and watch the show. See if she really is his shadow."
Atlas let out a low, feral chuckle, his Sulong-enhanced eyes tracking the circling predators. "You have doubts?"
Aokiji gave a lazy, one-shouldered shrug. "I have questions."
Across the field, Darcy Rue and Garrett Hasapis moved with a silent, predatory understanding. They split apart, beginning to circle Marya like wolves closing in on their prey. Darcy's Ammit form exuded a soul-chilling aura, while Garrett's sword, Stinger, emitted a soft, insectoid clicking that grated on the ears. They were a perfect, coordinated machine of death.
Marya, however, seemed to have retreated deep within herself. She stood perfectly still, her eyes closed, her breathing a slow, meditative rhythm. The taunts and threats they hissed at her—of her mother's fate, her father's legacy—were like distant echoes, failing to pierce the fortress of her focus. In her mind, she was back on Kuraigana Island, the rain misting around them. She heard her father's voice, not as a comforting memory, but as a foundational lesson etched into her soul: "A sharp blade is worthless without a sharper mind. The world will slow down for a will that refuses to be rushed."
Seeing her apparent vulnerability, Darcy and Garrett struck as one. A pincer movement, born of flawless teamwork and overwhelming power. Darcy's massive executioner's sword came down in a cleaving arc meant to shatter mountains, while Garrett lunged low, Stinger morphing into a blur of sharp, segmented limbs aiming to cripple and entangle.
Marya did not move.
She stood, a solitary figure, until the very last possible moment. As the weapons descended, her eyes snapped open. They blazed not with their usual gold, but with fierce, crimson streaks. A torrent of Conqueror's Haki erupted from her in a silent, visible shockwave. It was not the chaotic blast of before, but a focused, crushing wave of pure will.
The air itself seemed to solidify. Darcy and Garrett faltered mid-strike, their flawless coordination shattered by the spiritual onslaught. For a single, suspended heartbeat, they were frozen, their minds struggling against the overwhelming pressure.
That was all the time she needed.
Marya became a blur of unseen motion. She didn't teleport; she simply moved with a speed and economy of motion that defied tracking. She flowed between their stalled attacks, a ghost in a leather jacket. Eternal Eclipse was not a sword, but an extension of her will, its obsidian blade leaving faint, afterimage trails in the air. There was no grand flourish, no wasted energy. Just a few, simple strokes.
She passed between them and came to a halt several feet behind, calmly sheathing her sword with a soft click.
Darcy and Garrett stood in shocked silence, their charge having carried them past where she once stood. They blinked, uncomprehending. Everything had happened in less than a breath. Then, they both felt it—a sharp, stinging heat across their torsos. They looked down, their hands moving to their chests as their pristine uniforms began to bloom with deep, crimson stains. Their weapons slipped from suddenly numb fingers, clattering against the frozen earth in a jarring announcement of their defeat. Their legs buckled, and they fell to their knees, then slumped forward into unconsciousness.
Marya exhaled slowly, the red streaks fading from her eyes as she calmed the storm within. A faint, dark chuckle echoed in the back of her mind, but she ignored it.
From the sidelines, Jannali let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be stuffed," she cursed, a mix of awe and disbelief in her voice.
Aokiji's usual lazy smirk widened into a genuine, impressed grin.
"Have any more doubts?" Atlas asked, his voice gruff.
Aokiji shook his head, his gaze fixed on Marya's back. "She just took out two God's Knights on her own," he stated. "That is all the answers I need."
Jelly bounced in a happy, wobbly dance. "Bloop! Like, confetti should fall! And there should be cake!"
Galit called out, his voice cutting through the aftermath. "Marya!"
Marya turned her head slightly in their direction, her golden eyes still holding a distant, focused light. But she wasn't looking at them. Her heightened Observation Haki was already reaching past them, stretching across the battlefield to where another conflict was playing out—where Jax and Teivel were locked in their own bitter struggle. Her eyes narrowed, a decision solidifying in her mind. This would all end today.
Before anyone could speak another word, she vanished. Not into mist, but with that same impossible speed, leaving nothing but a slight disturbance in the air.
Jelly stopped bouncing. "Bloop? Where'd she go?"
Atlas, Jannali, and Aokiji turned as one, their attention snapping toward the distant rise where they had left the hostages and the duel between Jax and Teivel.
"It appears," Atlas said, a competitive smirk tugging at his lips, "she has some unfinished business."
Jannali groaned, slinging her spear over her shoulder. "Guess we should go after her."
Atlas's smirk widened, his body crackling with residual Electro. "If we can keep up."
The clash between Jax's staff and Teivel's spear, Gungnir, was a storm of sparks and fury, a brutal dialogue of grunting effort and sharp impacts. Jax, the Unbroken Guard, was a wall of focused determination, his Haki-hardened staff meeting every thrust and sweep. Teivel, his frustration mounting, could find no purchase, no weakness to exploit. "Stand still, you stubborn mule!" he roared, his attacks growing wilder.
Then, a shift in the air. A sudden, silent pressure that had nothing to do with the wind.
Teivel paused, a cold shiver crawling up his spine, a primal instinct screaming of a predator far more dangerous than the one before him. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Through the dust and gloom, a silhouette advanced. It was Marya, her stride a slow, steady death march. Eternal Eclipse was held loosely in her hand, and her golden eyes, which usually held a curious, guarded calm, now burned with a single, chilling purpose. This was not the focused warrior from the battle with the God's Knights; this was something else entirely.
Visions of Vaughn flashed through her mind, swift and painful. His laughter during a quiet moment in the Consortium library, his proud, nervous face as he proposed to Harper amidst a shower of flower petals, his steadying hand on her shoulder during a difficult training session—the unofficial big brother who had prepared her for a future he would never see. And then, the final, searing image: the brutal end, the cruel spearhead erupting from his chest. The very same spear that was now locked in combat with Jax.
Seeing his doom approaching, Teivel gritted his teeth, his bravado cracking to reveal the raw fear beneath. He took a sudden, stumbling step back from Jax, breaking their conflict. Jax stood confused, his staff still raised, as Teivel's fingers uncurled. Gungnir clattered to the frozen earth, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness.
Teivel turned fully to face Marya, spreading his arms in a gesture of surrender that was anything but. A desperate, wobbly grin stretched across his face. "Well, here we are!" he taunted, his voice too loud, trying to hide his terror in bluster. "The great Dracule's Shadow, here to avenge her fallen puppy! Go on then! Do it! Show everyone what happens when you cross a Celestial Vanguard!"
Marya stopped directly in front of him. She didn't speak. She didn't gloat. Her expression was a mask of grim finality. She simply obliged.
In a single, fluid motion almost too fast to register, Eternal Eclipse swept horizontally. There was a sharp, clean sound, and then silence. Teivel's head tumbled from his shoulders, his mocking grin frozen in place, before his body crumpled to the ground.
A sharp gasp cut the air. Eliane spun away, burying her face into Zola's torso. The physicist, her own face pale, gave the young girl a tight, comforting hug, her usual arrogance replaced by a sobering gravity. Emmet let out a low grunt, a reluctant, logical approval of a threat permanently neutralized.
Jax stood in shock and awe, his staff lowering slowly. He looked from the headless corpse to Marya, the woman he had secretly admired. In that moment, he understood with cold clarity that the woman he knew was gone, submerged beneath a tide of vengeance he could never hope to navigate.
A whimper broke the silence. "I'm... I'm so sorry..." Onyx stammered, tears welling in her eyes as she looked from Teivel's body to Marya.
Marya's blazing gaze shifted from the fallen man to the trembling sniper. As her intent settled on a new target, Jax moved on instinct, stepping between them, his staff coming up once more in a protective stance. "Marya, no," he said, his voice firm.
The air grew colder. Galit, Atlas, Jelly, Jannali, and Aokiji arrived on the scene, their own battles concluded. Jannali took in the gruesome scene with a low whistle. "Bloody hell..."
Aokiji's sharp eyes assessed everything in an instant: the headless body, the terrified Onyx, the protective Jax, and Marya, whose shoulders now bore the faintest tremble, the immense cost of her awakened state and her vengeance finally sapping her legendary stamina. He moved forward, his steps calm and deliberate, and placed a large, steadying hand on her shoulder.
"I think," he rumbled, his voice a bedrock of weary reason, "that is enough for today."
Marya swayed slightly on her feet, the fiery light of vengeance in her eyes guttering out, replaced by a deep, hollow exhaustion. She gave a single, slow nod of agreement.
Aokiji's gaze then fell upon Onyx, who was fighting a losing battle against her tears. "It is over," he told her, his tone leaving no room for argument.
From a distance, a random, desperate roar went up from the last remnants of the Marine forces, a final, futile stand.
Without even looking in their direction, Aokiji raised a hand. "Ice Time."
The air crystallized. A wave of absolute cold swept across the charging Marines, and in the space of a heartbeat, they were transformed into a silent, frozen landscape of statues, their final charge captured for eternity. The battle for Ohara was finally, truly, over.