Chapter 33 – Flying Pirates
A simple motion—Shiki's right hand opening, then closing into a fist—was enough to shake the world.
Within moments, the land for several kilometers around rose into the air as if gravity itself had been switched off. The horizon twisted, and sky and earth seemed to swap places under the pull of some invisible force, leaving chaos in its wake.
From every direction, titanic lion-shaped constructs of earth and stone bore down on him. Tachibana Kyūjō's eyes reflected a brief flash of surprise that even he couldn't hide.
This was no ordinary attack. This was the power of a top-tier Devil Fruit—a force of nature in human form.
Kyūjō had seen countless similar abilities inside Infinity. But standing here, in this world, facing it directly… it still sent a thrill of awe through his chest.
Fortunately, he knew one truth about such overwhelming powers.
They were wide in scope… but spread too thin.
An area-of-effect attack like this could obliterate entire armies, but against an opponent of equal or greater strength, its impact dropped sharply. The power, dispersed across such a vast area, rarely hit with enough concentrated force to break through a high-level defense.
Speed was often its biggest weakness—save for exceptions like Kizaru's Yasakani no Magatama.
That said, there was no denying the sheer battlefield control this kind of ability commanded.
It was much like the Admirals' own techniques—Akainu's Meteor Volcano, Aokiji's Ice Age, or Kizaru's Yasakani no Magatama—weapons designed not just to kill, but to dominate terrain, instill fear, and reshape the battlefield itself.
Against the land, sea, and sky, such powers left scars far more dramatic than those on individual bodies.
Maybe… that was the nature of the highest-level Devil Fruits.
On the other hand, those who relied on their own bodies and Haki at the very peak—while they might not casually reshape islands—could deliver wounds that were far more direct, efficient, and personal. Every strike from such a warrior was the product of years—decades—of honed will and perfect technique.
They didn't move often, because they didn't need to.
But when they did—it was like lightning striking the earth.
— — —
A low rumble echoed through the heavens.
Dark, heavy clouds coiled over the floating island, thunder rolling through their depths like the growl of angry gods.
Within that storm, Shiki's "Shishi Odori! Dai Jishin!" raged, shaking the very air.
Kyūjō's voice was calm amidst the chaos.
"To cut the body… to cut the soul… to cut the heart."
"Lightning from the heavens, guided by my blade."
"Thunder Breathing – Tenth Form – Busoshoku Mode: Thunderclap Slash!"
One strike.
That was all.
Rairyūken, his black blade, swept through the air—its edge sheathed in crackling lightning and a dense, heavy layer of Haki. The slash was neither wide nor flashy, a narrow crescent only a few meters long, its dark hue like a fragment of the night sky.
But its intent was sharp and unerring—splitting through Shiki's lion-shaped constructs on the ground… and, in the same breath, aiming straight for the Golden Lion himself in the sky.
— — —
Shiki's body went rigid.
The fur along his arms and chest prickled. His sharp eyes locked onto the oncoming slash—not large, not ostentatious—but every instinct screamed that this one could kill him.
Long ago, when he still had both legs, Shiki had been a true master swordsman—one acknowledged even among the greatest.
But to escape from Impel Down, he had been forced to sever both legs shackled by Seastone cuffs. In their place, he had attached his two Supreme Grade swords, Oto and Kogarashi.
The world thought: He still has both arms. Why can't he fight as before?
But those who thought that… knew nothing.
For a true warrior, the body was a perfectly tuned instrument, every part trained to channel power from the ground through the core and into the blade. Break that balance, and the entire system faltered.
Shiki's foundation was gone. Age had done the rest, eroding his physical edge far faster than the power of his Devil Fruit.
Now, the only way he could fight at a swordsman's level was by using his levitation to compensate.
Even so… his instincts were still sharp.
And what he saw before him was a young man—this arrogant upstart named Tachibana Kyūjō—standing just a single step away from the absolute summit of swordsmanship.
And with that realization came a bitter thought:
Is he… using me as a whetstone?
The notion was insulting. Humiliating. Terrifying.
Impossible!
Do you even know who I am!?
I am the captain of the Flying Pirates!
The Golden Lion! Shiki the Great!
I will not be your stepping stone, boy!
"Marine brat! You've picked the wrong opponent!!" Shiki's roar split the air.
Facing that narrow, deadly slash, Shiki brought up both sword-bladed legs, unleashing a flurry of compressed air slashes at full power.
"Shishi: Senjindani!"
— — —
The sky became the stage for an invisible duel between blades.
Kyūjō's thunder-infused slash collided with Shiki's air blades one after another, each clash creating a sharp, voiceless shock that rippled like flashes across the darkening sky.
The first clash.
The second.
The third.
Only after cutting through three of Shiki's six slashes did Kyūjō's attack begin to fade.
By then, he had already slipped clear of Shiki's ground-based assault, hovering in the air with quiet focus as he studied the battle he had started.
A faint sigh escaped him.
"Just three… from one full-power strike."
That attack had been no mere technique—it was the peak of his fusion between Haki and Thunder Breathing. And Shiki had met it with what was, for him, a basic move.
It didn't feel balanced.
Kyūjō had estimated Shiki's power based on the "Strong World" version—older, slower, and defeated by Luffy's Gear Third.
But this younger Shiki… was on a different level entirely.
In the movie, Shiki had shown little in the way of Haki.
Busoshoku was minimal.
Kenbunshoku? Barely noticeable.
Haoshoku? Not at all.
But here, in Infinity's reality, the Golden Lion possessed all three.
And each was terrifying in its own right.
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