Crap.
Maybe I bit off more than I can chew.
Ozz, all of twenty two, forced down a mouthful of blood and felt his organs trading places. Clones were already a brutal drain on mind and body; keeping them strong enough not to fold instantly against kings of their caliber was his limit. On top of that, his true body had to hold Xebec at bay. It had been a long time since Ozz felt this kind of helpless weight.
It was not just the main body. The clones' faces were turning pale too, pressure mounting under Roger's and Garp's blows. Roger and Garling were at least mindful of who he was and pulled their killing edge. Garp and Rocks, those bastards, showed no mercy. More than once Ozz nearly coughed out his lungs.
Of course, they were not getting off easy either. Every one of Ozz's strikes punched through guard. Even Garp, purest of body arts, was leaking red in sheets.
"Hey, Ozz. If you are about to fold, stop being stubborn."
Steel rang. Roger drove the blade bearing Ozz back, then sheathed Ace with a frown.
"That is enough. I did not come to clean house."
The moment Roger stepped back, pressure bled away. He had come to cut down Rocks, not his supposed son.
Across the field, Garling knocked aside Ozz's flaming kick with a breathless parry and noticed the strain etching Ozz's face. He clicked his tongue, slid his sword home.
"Beating you like this would be dull. We will have our duel another day."
The knight withdrew, proud and composed. That courtesy only extended to Ozz because he wore the title of a Celestial.
Two fronts freed. Ozz dropped the act, flicked a glance at the two who had yielded, and did not chase. He sent those two clones to reinforce the other fights instead.
The Demon Wind Kick clone moved to aid the Fist clone.
The sword clone moved to aid the Black Gun body.
"Demon Wind Kick. Devil's Red Braise."
As Garp and the Fist clone traded Conqueror's infused blows, a second Ozz appeared behind him with no warning. Fire and lightning coiled on his shin as his heel crashed into Garp's waist and sent him cartwheeling for hundreds of meters, smashing trees and stone before he ground to a halt.
Garp shoved rubble off and stared at the two identical silhouettes now standing shoulder to shoulder before him. One with a fist glowing red. One with fire and lightning licking his boot. Both glaring.
"You were pretty happy a second ago, Garp."
"Come on then. Try that again."
"Galaxy Impact."
"Blink Kick. Demon Wind."
Fist art at its peak met monstrous physique set free. Conqueror's roared. A punch and a kick landed together.
Air ripped. The island coughed up a crater a kilometer wide. Bones sang. Dents spidered across Garp's frame as he vomited blood.
Cutting loose like this was a rare joy for Ozz. He spent most of his life holding back, afraid his body would not take what his power wanted to give it. Even if joy came with a price.
The Black Gun clone's hand trembled. Even lighting a cigarette was work now. He knew it. Four ways at once had been too much.
Down in the pit, the man he had hammered near flat climbed out anyway, grinning like a demon through a mask of blood.
"I do not fall that easy, Ozz."
He vaulted from the crater in a blink and drove in. Garp's smile was savage and bright. He forgot everything that was not Ozz and threw himself into the clinch. Two on one. Up close he did not seem to lose ground.
Ozz's blows kept coming. Punch, kick, punch. Every collision knocked another cough of red out of him. If it were only this body, he would not fear Garp. He would have gone wilder still and shown the old iron fist what Monster Strength really meant.
But part of him had to stay with Rocks, a monster off the scale. That cost. His face went white.
Across the way, Roger watched Garp bury a fist in Ozz's gut and saw the blood fly. He had been catching his breath, watching the flow.
He moved.
"Damn you, Garp. Do not take cheap shots."
The young Pirate King flashed in on the beat between exchanges.
"Divine Departure."
Blackened knuckles met Ace. Sparks screamed. Garp's eyes widened.
"Roger. You bastard."
The clash broke them apart. Seeing Roger take the swing, Garp forgot Ozz entirely and went to renew their eternal argument with his oldest friend.
Both Ozz clones blinked at each other.
"Help the main body. Rocks is not a man you take alone."
"Got it."
Four bodies, one mind. Every Ozz was still Ozz, an expression of the same space bent four ways, a kind of before and after laid side by side. Thought moved between them as easily as breath.
Only now did Ozz truly stand alone with Rocks.
He struck. A fist and a kick snapped into Xebec's guard, then vanished before he could smother the ability. That was the dance. If Rocks laid real hands on him, he would erase the fruit. Winning this exchange at all came down to teleportation and never giving up the edge it gave.
"Is that all you have. Running circles."
Rocks swatted aside the punch and the kick clones and detonated the ground in dust. His aura flared. The screen of smoke shredded.
Danger screamed in his skull.
Two silhouettes stood in the clearing haze. One holding a blade. One bracing a matte black rifle like a staff. Side by side. Weapons crossing.
"The next strike is my last and my strongest. Try not to die too easily, Rocks."
Their eyes were too calm. Lightning gathered where gun and sword met, a black red sun.
On every shore, pupils pinholed. In Pangaea Castle, even the Elders' eyes shook. The world seemed to hold its breath.
The slash that followed split God Valley and the sea beyond for leagues. The name of the technique was as arrogant as the man who spoke it.
"Sovereign Sea."
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The tides are shifting, and secrets linger in the dark... Step into the shadows early on P@treon, where the next chapter awaits before the world sees it.
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