As Ron handed the swirling, patterned fruit to Squard, his friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by an unnerving, deadly seriousness that made the larger man flinch.
A palpable killing intent, so bone-chilling it seeped into Squard's very marrow, washed over him.
"Squard, listen to me," Ron's voice was low and intense. "The power of this Devil Fruit is immense, but it must be wielded with caution. Learn to discern right and wrong for yourself. Do not be swayed by outside voices. If a day comes when you are faced with an impossible choice, remember that I will intervene."
Squard felt utterly lost, unable to comprehend why the vice-captain would say such a thing with such gravity to him.
But he felt the sincerity and the threat in those words, and a deep, instinctual shiver ran down his spine.
He took a deep breath, his hand closing around the fruit.
"Rest assured, Vice-Captain Ron! I will never forget your kindness!"
"Gurararara! Hurry up and eat it! This old man can't wait any longer!" Whitebeard laughed, breaking the tension.
A chorus of cheers erupted as nine chosen captains, including Squard, raised their fruits.
"Alright! I'll go first!"
"Thank you, Vice-Captain Ron! Thank you, Pops!"
The taste was even worse than they remembered—a vile, gag-inducing flavor that promised power at a disgusting price.
Then came the pain, and with it, the power.
A wild, rampaging force tore through their bodies, as if trying to rip them apart from the inside.
They could feel their bones cracking, stretching, and reforming; they could feel hard, impenetrable scales pushing through their skin.
Their necks elongated, their heads stretching into terrifying dragon forms, their eyes gleaming with a newfound predatory ferocity.
In the blink of an eye, they had transformed into nine colossal, hundred-meter-long dragons.
Their serpentine bodies undulated like living mountain ranges, their scales glinting dazzlingly under the sunlight.
With deafening roars, they soared into the sky, each beat of their mighty wings stirring fierce gales across the island.
The people on the ground—pirates, Shandians, and Skypieans alike—stared up with wide, disbelieving eyes.
They had once worshipped a "god" of lightning.
What they were witnessing now was a pantheon.
Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple, black, and white.
Nine dragons now owned the sky, a living, breathing rainbow of destruction and majesty.
But the moment they opened their mouths to speak, the divine atmosphere was utterly and completely ruined.
"Hahahaha! I turned into a dragon! A big red one!"
"Yours is ugly as hell! Mine's yellow—so cool!"
"Mine's black!" another voice boomed.
"Pitch black! I look like a damn mudfish! Can I get a repaint?!"
"Quit complaining! You all got it better than me—I'm freaking green!"
A wave of uproarious laughter erupted from the pirates on the ground below.
"Huh? Is that... Squard? The green dragon? It's Green Spider Squard!"
Ron was genuinely surprised, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"Try out your moves," he called out, his voice brimming with anticipation.
"Let me see just how strong you've become."
Not far away, Whitebeard stood stunned by the sheer visual impact of the scene, a deep, hearty laugh rumbling in his chest.
"Gurararara! If that bastard Kaido saw this, he'd probably be fuming with rage! Brats, now it's your turn! Show this old man your newfound power!"
Hearing the encouragement from their captain and vice-captain, a new sense of purpose filled the nine dragons.
They ceased their bickering and gracefully maneuvered into a perfect, terrifying formation, a neat row of colossal draconic heads facing the empty sea.
"Boro Breath!" they roared in unison.
A blinding, searing light began to gather in their open maws, the air itself seeming to ignite as nine suns were born in the sky, ready to unleash a wave of absolute annihilation.
The very air seemed to hold its breath as nine suns were born in the sky.
Then, with a simultaneous, earth-shattering roar, they were unleashed.
Nine colossal pillars of pure, destructive energy erupted from the dragons' maws, a spectacle as magnificent and terrifying as a coordinated volcanic eruption.
The White-White Sea below them didn't just splash; it vaporized, boiling into a chaotic maelstrom of steam and churning clouds that rose for thousands of meters.
"Gurararara! Good! Good! Good!" Whitebeard looked up at the nine 'Kaidos' wheeling through the sky, a wide, proud grin splitting his face from ear to ear.
Ron was also gazing towards the sky, a look of grim satisfaction on his face as he mentally tallied his progress.
Sixty-nine, he thought. The mission is moving along nicely.
He then glanced over at Jozu, who was watching his comrades with a complex mixture of pride and profound envy.
Jozu was a mountain of diamond, one of the strongest men in the world, but he was still bound to the earth.
As he watched his brothers soar freely, a fresh wave of frustration washed over him.
Don't get too cocky, he thought, a familiar fire in his heart.
Once my Glint-Glint Fruit arrives, I'll show you what true speed really is.
In the sky, the mock battle had begun.
One of the dragons, a brilliant crimson, suddenly opened its enormous maw.
But instead of a beam, it was a torrent of blazing liquid fire that clung to its scales like a living cloak of magma.
The temperature skyrocketed to an unbelievable degree, the very air shimmering and distorting with the heat.
Anything the magma-like flames touched—be it a stray cloud or a floating piece of island debris—instantly dissolved into nothingness.
Ace's eyes widened, his jaw slack with disbelief.
"This... is this still count as a Zoan-type?!" he choked out.
The flames dancing on that dragon's body felt ancient, primal, more potent than his own.
A cold knot of insecurity formed in his stomach.
He was 'Fire Fist' Ace.
Fire was his domain.
What was he, if others could wield it so easily, so powerfully?
"What's wrong, Ace? Feeling envious?" Marco grinned, patting him on the shoulder.
"Actually, there's more you don't know," Ron said, his tone analytical. "Kaido's abilities aren't limited to just flame. He can summon wind, command lightning, and fly through the sky nearly unrestricted. Add to that his near-invincible skin and regenerative abilities... honestly, this fruit has almost no obvious weaknesses."
Each word was another hammer blow to Ace's already crumbling confidence.
He had always believed his Mera Mera no Mi was strong enough to face any challenge, a belief that had been the bedrock of his pride.
Ron noticed the flicker of self-doubt dimming the fire in Ace's eyes.
He stepped forward to stand beside him.
He didn't offer empty platitudes.
Instead, he spoke slowly, his voice a calm invitation for Ace to think, not just react.
"Flames may seem ordinary because they exist everywhere, but this very quality is also their greatest strength. The phoenix's flames heal. The dragon's flames destroy. Have you truly discerned the differences between them, Ace?"
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