Endless black spears walled Tengetsu Ares in, but ribbons of dazzling sword-light kept ripping through layer after layer, shooting off in every direction.
The sea itself split under those flying cuts, furrows opening like plowed earth. Currents snarled; the ship pitched and yawed.
Cloud's spear-shafts each one sheathed in Armament Haki shattered and re-formed, a ceaseless hail that left Ares no room to breathe.
Ares' guard stayed airtight.
Let him rage; the breeze still combs the hillside. That was the feel of it.
He carried no blade, yet every movement of his body birthed a flying slash with frightening bite.
A year of grinding had transformed his edge. First, he'd been taught by a great swordsman Golden Lion Shiki. Second, his body was grotesquely gifted. Third, his fight with Rayleigh had let him steal a trove of technique. And fourth, he had that odd "plug-in" of his mind that let him see what others missed.
All of it together had rocketed his No-Blade Style forward. He was no longer the man he'd been.
On pure swordplay alone, he was confident he could now cross blades with Rayleigh and not be found wanting.
In mere dozens of seconds he'd lost count of how many spears he'd pulverized. Still they came endless. He knew why: as long as there was sky, Cloud could spawn more. The only real question was how long the man's Haki could sustain the cost.
Sure enough, when that barrage drew no blood, Cloud let the spears dissolve. His voice drifted down, tinged with genuine admiration. "Savage slashes. A man with no weapon using Rokushiki's Rankyaku to such a monstrous degree remarkable. Even most CP agents trained from childhood can't match that, you know."
He kept his true body hidden; Ares had nothing solid to chase.
That was the terror of a Logia. Nature is the world's foundation, and each element carries its own impossible laws. Ares knew all too well he'd watched the summit war unfold.
Admiral Akainu, Magma-Magma Fruit.
Admiral Kizaru, Glint-Glint Fruit.
Admiral Aokiji, Ice-Ice Fruit.
Images of their overwhelming might flashed through his mind.
Only by standing in front of a top-tier Logia do you really grasp how fearsome they are, he thought. No wonder this man sits as CP0 Director the World Government's hidden blade.
A few breaths later Cloud changed the tempo.
"Sky Net!"
White cords bloomed across the heavens, each as thick as a man's forearm. They appeared around Ares without pattern, writhing like living pythons, and began to coil his giant frame.
Unseen, Cloud smiled with perfect confidence. "If hard fails, we go soft. Against a power fighter like you, this net gives you nowhere to spend that strength."
Ares discovered the headache at once. These cloud-ropes, uncoated in Haki, weren't hard they were tenacious. This was softness conquering hardness.
He tore apart rope after rope with hands and skin tough as steel… and more ropes wound in. Pressure mounted; the constriction felt exactly like a constrictor's killing embrace, leeching space and air itself.
"Annoying power," he spat, muscles bulging as he ripped and ripped. But unlike the spears, every strand he broke re-knit an almost automatic repair.
White billows swallowed him inch by inch, until he looked like part of the cloudbank, motion boxed in, breath thinning.
Peril crested
and then the white went crimson. A heartbeat later it burned to nothing.
"Dragonflame!"
Fire roared from his jaws and scoured the sky clean, cloud-ropes curling into ash.
Crisis gone.
He tilted his chin to the cloud cover. "Got any other tricks? Bring 'em all."
Yet another pattern cracked. Thunderheads, cloud-spears, ropes that countered brute force none had stuck.
Cloud's eyes narrowed despite himself. "So you command fire as well… Mythical Zoans are truly in a class of their own."
The World Government's dossier on Ares already labeled him a Mythical Zoan. Seeing it live still made the point.
Watching from the deck, the bald swordsman Khristin the would-be Five Elder frowned. With every scrap of strength Ares revealed, the sense of danger sharpened.
Give him a few years and he'll stand where Rocks does, he thought. Do we erase him now or bend him toward our flag? Another thought flickered: Or turn him into a wedge to split the Rocks Pirates from within?
He ran the calculus risks, odds, the value of a gamble mind racing.
Time ticked.
Up above, Cloud unveiled a third mode of attack.
"Ares, you're going to like this one. I guarantee it."
"Avatar of Cloud Descent of the Heavenly Deity!"
In an instant
the sky changed its face
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