The clash was about to begin.
No words needed.
The white-platinum-haired elder in the Holy Knights' robe moved first.
"Slash!"
It looked slow—but was fast.
At the instant Figarand Lucas Saint drew and cut, even space seemed to twist. A kilometer-long slash bridged the hundreds of meters between them and appeared before Magnus in a blink.
"Haha, good one!"
Seeing Lucas cut, Magnus's eyes lit up.
You can tell a master the moment they move.
That cut from Lucas was a pinnacle skill Magnus had never seen.
Invited with such grandeur,
how could Magnus shrink back?
"Midwinter!"
His answering cut carried killing cold. After years of training, Magnus had long since woven his fruit's chill into his swordsmanship.
At the same time—
"Roooar—"
White wolf fur spread across his face; his limbs grew longer and thicker; ribbons of freezing air coiled around him.
From the outset, Magnus unveiled his full-power form.
"So this is the post-awakening Zoan 'true form'? Hmph—what an ugly sight."
"Haha, I think it looks pretty cool!"
He didn't care what Lucas thought. Before his system ever appeared, the first half of his life's reputation had been built on this fruit alone.
Even if time rewound, he would eat it again without hesitation.
Boom—!
Blade met blade; at the point of impact a stark scar tore the land—on Magnus's side, spears of ice from condensed cold; on Lucas's side, a spider-web of destructive fissures.
One glance at the slaves who hadn't fully evacuated—and Magnus didn't hesitate.
Facing not one but three top-tier foes,
Magnus stepped in instead of back.
"Come!!"
"Hmph. Arrogant!"
Lucas hadn't expected Magnus to charge despite seeing all three of them.
"Looks like my foolish son gave you the wrong idea."
Black-red lightning burst from Lucas in an instant.
The pressure made nearby slaves' chests seize.
"Just a pirate—"
The distance between Magnus and Lucas vanished in a breath.
Blade and sword collided.
No—
they collided before they touched, clashing in the air itself.
Haoshoku coating!
Rumble!
Air around them shredded in sheets. Black-red snakes of lightning crawled over the sky of Mary Geoise.
Everyone froze.
Fleeing slaves and pursuing Holy Land guards alike were torn from reality and turned into a still painting.
"So terrifying!"
"Am I going to die?"
"I'm sorry—I shouldn't have tried to run!"
…
Many slaves dropped to their knees, sobbing. Branded from childhood with the hoof of the Celestial Dragon, fear of them had been etched into their bones.
Even freed, they still couldn't summon the courage to resist when chased.
"I see. No wonder Granreed lost to you—you're no ordinary pirate."
Lucas's eyes steadied.
"And even now, you split your focus to shield those lowly slaves. A pirate is a pirate."
"Haha—to be judged by a 'noble' Celestial Dragon… should I be honored?"
His mouth taunted, but Magnus's aura kept climbing; his eyes grew brighter; his Haoshoku poured out without end, grinding against Lucas's.
"Yet even while I'm guarding those slaves, your Haoshoku still feels weaker than mine!"
Magnus laughed. Lucas's aura alone should have put weaker slaves to sleep, and his strikes should have spilled into the crowd.
But Magnus took every attack—and wrapped Lucas's Haoshoku with his own, smothering it before it could touch anyone.
Even with that extra burden, Lucas still couldn't push Magnus back.
In a single clash, the measure between them was decided.
Lucas's face sank.
To be forced back in a contest of Haoshoku?
A gale swept in from his flank. He wanted to bark an order to hold—but thought of Mary Geoise's state and swallowed it.
"Stephens. Finish him!"
"By your leave."
The man in the immaculate white suit looked elderly, but far healthier than most his age.
What greeted Magnus was Stephens's driving claw.
"Lion Lance!"
"Haha—good!"
Magnus had never expected a gentleman's duel. If Lucas wanted single combat, his Haoshoku wouldn't feel this thin.
Forcing Lucas back with one cut, Magnus turned to meet Stephens.
"Sword Star!"
He formed blade-fingers; with Busoshoku coating, he feared no direct clash—even against another Mythical Zoan.
Zoan, Mythical Beast—griffin form!
"Magnus. Still the same as ever."
"Haha—right back at you!"
Sword-fingers and claw collided; a brutal shockwave blew out; hardened Busoshoku tore the ground like tofu. Slaves fled in a panic, away from the two.
This time, Magnus couldn't shield them as well.
"Help!"
"I don't want to run anymore!"
"My leg!"
…
Some abandoned escape entirely; others froze in terror—
until Magnus's voice crashed over them.
"What are you doing? Freedom is right there—are you giving up?"
"If so, why did you break your chains?"
"Why did you try to flee?"
He'd given them the choice from the start. As he told Rona: they could only save those who still chose freedom—they could not save those whose hearts remained enslaved.
Anyone who unlocked their shackles had, at least, chosen to chase freedom.
Celestial Dragons' slaves were the lowest labor; life and death with a whim. Each day, countless were killed for "offenses," or simply because a Dragon found them an eyesore.
To flee Mary Geoise wasn't only to chase freedom—
it was to live.
"Magnus, it's useless. These foolish, base slaves don't dare resist us."
"Celestial Dragons are gods. How do humans defy gods?"
Stephens's tone was calm. This wasn't his first fight with Magnus. Like Magnus standing against admirals across eras, as CP's current commander he was Magnus's peer—and had crossed him before.
Back then, Magnus didn't have the power to meet them head-on like now.
"Magnus—what happened to you?"
Thunder rumbled in Stephens's voice as his body shifted—head hawk-like, hands massive, wings bursting from his back. As CP's lone Admiral-class fighter, he was leagues beyond Grindlewin.
"Haha—beat me and find out!"
Magnus laughed; his aura kept rising, seemingly without a ceiling.
Not Kong, not Ortega, not even Granreed had forced out his limits. With Dorry and Brogy's help, no one had been able to truly press him one-on-one.
Magnus had grown stronger.
Even he didn't know by how much.
So he needed a fight—to mark his place on the food chain like a tiger testing its fangs.
And from the look of it—
"No good. Whether it's you—or you—alone, you can't beat me."
White hair whipping, Magnus faced both Stephens and Lucas without a hint of retreat.
"Come on—kill me, or be killed by me!"
To them he looked beyond arrogant—this half-man, half-wolf.
"Do you know where you are?"
"This is the Holy Land—Mary Geoise!"
They roared together, dropping all pretense and charged.
"Haha—now this is fun!"
Under Haoshoku's mantle, Magnus loomed like a war god; his aura punched into the heavens.
From above, the clouds over Mary Geoise spun into a massive vortex—with Magnus at its eye.
As his physique climbed, he'd begun to unlock a new mode—not from his fruit, but from his body: his animal-type awakening layered over his own monstrous regeneration.
His heart hammered; his temperature climbed—but the fruit's inherent cold held a tenuous balance.
Awakening was already a power-up.
And now he piled reinforcement on reinforcement—
what would break most bodies, he bore on the back of his recovery.
Then Magnus moved.
In that instant, he wasn't a man in his seventies—
but a young brute burning his strength with reckless joy.
To Stephens and Lucas, a pale form wrapped in black-red thunder blurred forward, dragging a cleaving blade of lightning.
A hundred meters vanished in an eye-blink.
Magnus appeared before Stephens.
"As I thought!"
He wasn't surprised Magnus chose him first—Lucas's immortality made him the worse target. Anyone would pick the "easier" mark.
But Stephens was no toy to be kneaded at will!
"Magnus!!!"
"Stephens!!!"
They roared, auras peaking.
"Lion King Lance!"
"Dragon-Slayer!"
Boom!!
Magnus's Haoshoku met Stephens's Busoshoku. The latter's hardening was no weaker than Ortega's, the strongest admiral—and bolstered by a Mythical Zoan's physique, Stephens's frontal pressure even surpassed Ortega's.
But Magnus was wielding Haoshoku at his utmost.
And Haoshoku coating ultimately rules over Busoshoku.
So, after a single heartbeat of deadlock, Stephens's Busoshoku collapsed under Magnus's. A force he couldn't resist roared down the long blade.
Razor-keen—and irresistible!
Splat!
Magnus blasted through Stephens's fist; the edge cleaved his chest from a distance; beads of blood sprayed; he rocketed back a thousand meters under the shock of Haoshoku.
The power—
was absurd.
His mind fogged. At full burst, Magnus's strength outstripped his by at least half a tier. He could tangle for a time—but head-on?
He wouldn't last.
Mythical Zoan vs Mythical Zoan—and yet he lost in Haki, power, and speed alike.
Magnus's strength was complete.
Against anyone weaker, once he seized momentum, he could combo them into defeat.
Fortunately, he wasn't alone.
Boom!!
In the small gap as Magnus's last force ebbed and new force gathered, Lucas struck mercilessly.
Even Magnus had to go all-out to suppress Stephens.
That gave Lucas his opening.
Magnus might be half a tier above Stephens—but Lucas stood on Magnus's rung.
Without immortality, he might lose to Magnus.
With it, he dared trade life for life. He didn't fear death—did Magnus?
"Hahaha—come!"
Magnus laughed wildly. He should have been unable to muster power—but twisted into a strange stance and wrenched strength forth, slamming blade to sword with Lucas.
BOOM—!!!
The ground under them shattered into quarters.
"Grindlewin!!"
Lucas bellowed, calling for the last top-class fighter on the field to deliver the killing blow.
Grindlewin jolted.
This was the chance. Magnus had grown stronger since Elbaf, yes—but he couldn't have the spare strength to handle a near-Admiral on top of this.
He would be the final straw.
"I'm coming!"
A piercing falcon cry.
"Die, Magnus!!"
He would avenge Elbaf—he'd nearly lost his seat over that defeat.
Now was the time to make amends.
But Magnus had a reason to face three top-class enemies at once.
All eyes were fixed on him.
Everyone forgot there was a fifth powerhouse on the field—the Giant King, Harald!
"Hakoku!!!"
A cataclysmic gale swallowed the battlefield in an instant.
(End of Chapter)
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