Water 7, Grand Line
The island burned.
Smoke and fog clashed in the storm-choked sky, the stench of gunpowder and blood thick enough to choke even the seasoned killers. The once-sleepy harbor street of Water had become a living warzone — a crucible where Marines, bounty hunters, pirates, and World Government agents tore into each other like rabid beasts. Cannon fire echoed across the island, and the screams of the dying merged with the roar of the sea.
In the middle of it all, Agana stood atop a mound of corpses — a crimson figure wreathed in living blood. A dozen pirates lunged at her from all sides, their blades glinting through the haze. She didn't move until the very last instant. Her eyes, cold and precise, flashed once beneath her hood — and then her blade whispered through the air.
One swing. The sound was like silk tearing — delicate, almost beautiful. Then, silence. The pirates froze mid-charge, their expressions twisted in rage and disbelief — before crimson lines bloomed across their bodies, and the world turned red.
Blood burst forth in violent fountains, not falling to the ground but rising — drawn to her. Every drop hung suspended in the air, shimmering like molten rubies before swirling toward Agana in a furious dance. The liquid wrapped around her, moving with the precision of a predator, forming a second skin — a living armor of gore and intent.
It pulsed faintly, alive with her will, like an entity reborn in blood. The droplets rippled as if breathing, reacting to every subtle shift in her stance. To anyone watching, she was less a woman and more a crimson reaper — a vision of death sculpted from battle itself.
Around her, chaos raged on. Marines clashed with the intruders. Pirates slaughtered each other over rumors of a mythical "ancient weapon," most of them not even knowing what it truly was — only that it could make them legends. The ground shook from distant detonations, and the sky glowed orange from the inferno consuming the docks.
Agana ignored it all. Her focus was fixed on the bound figure she dragged behind her — Tom, the legendary shipwright, gagged and restrained with seastone chains, his defiant glare the only spark of resistance in his weary face.
She tightened her grip on the rope. "You're coming with me," she muttered, her tone like a whisper through steel. But before she could take another step, the air split.
A searing lance of energy tore through the fog — bright enough to blind, hot enough to vaporize stone. It cut through the chaos like a god's judgment, aimed not to kill, but to cripple. Agana's senses flared — her Kenbunshoku Haki screaming a moment before the world exploded.
In a single fluid motion, she drew her blade. The steel sang as it left its sheath, wreathed instantly in a deep obsidian shimmer — Busoshoku Haki coating it from edge to hilt. She pivoted, arm blurring, and cut.
The beam met her strike head-on. The collision tore the air apart — thunder and light colliding, sending shockwaves through the harbor. The force blew away the fog in a violent gust, leaving a circle of clarity around her. When the smoke cleared, Agana stood unmoved, her blade humming faintly.
The blood swirling around her responded as if sharing her anger. It rose, spinning faster, compressing, twisting — until it formed a colossal spear of crimson that shimmered in the fractured light. She pointed.
The blood spear launched, shrieking through the night like a living missile, tearing through the fog toward the direction of the attack. Buildings splintered as it passed — the pressure alone crushing walls, until it struck its mark with a thunderous impact.
For a moment, the fog glowed red. But then, a silhouette moved — effortlessly sidestepping the spear as it screamed past. The attack missed by inches, obliterating a warehouse behind the figure instead. The explosion painted the fog in firelight.
A voice emerged from the haze — sharp, mocking, and all too familiar.
"Well, well… so the rumors were true," the voice drawled, each word dripping with venomous amusement. "You've truly fallen, haven't you, Agana? Forsaken your name, and now you wallow with the dogs."
Agana's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable — but her fingers tightened around her blade. She knew that voice.
"Still arrogant as ever," she muttered.
A tall silhouette stepped through the veil of smoke—the light of the burning town outlining her towering frame. Saint Satchel Maffey. One of the God's Knights.
The woman strode forward with the unhurried confidence of someone who had never once known fear. Her cloak billowed in the storm's wind, revealing a physique carved by strength, her black attire marked with the insignia of the Gods Knights. A long cigar glowed between her lips, its embers cutting through the fog like a second sun.
Even through the chaos, her presence commanded the space around her. The marines who caught sight of her from afar dropped to one knee out of instinct. Her haki, faint but suffocating, pressed against the air like invisible chains.
"It took me a bit of effort to find you in this mess," Maffey said casually, exhaling a lazy cloud of smoke as she approached. "Long time no see."
Her eyes — sharp, cold, and gold like a hawk's — flicked over Agana's form, taking in the blood swirling around her, the living armor pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. Then they shifted to the man bound at her feet. A slow, disdainful smirk curved her lips.
"Well, look at that," she said. "Seems like you've bagged the grand prize while the rest of these fools are still chasing ghosts. Typical."
Her tone was calm, but beneath it was a palpable disdain — the kind reserved for something that once had meaning but had now become a disgrace.
"You could have ruled among gods, Agana," Maffey continued, stepping closer until the rain hissed off her cigar. "Instead, you chose to crawl among mortals — pirates, thieves, and traitors. I can smell the filth on you from here."
Agana said nothing. Her eyes, crimson under the stormlight, met Maffey's without a flicker of emotion. The blood around her pulsed once — faster — as if reacting to her restrained fury. Maffey's smirk deepened.
"Oh, don't give me that look," she said softly. "You're not angry because I'm wrong. You're angry because I'm right."
The fog swirled between them, crimson meeting gold, the air heavy with tension. Two women — once bound by the same divine bloodline — now stood on opposite sides of the world.
The two women stood amid the ruin and rain, the air crackling with silent fury. Smoke swirled around them, the blood armor whispering around Agana like a living storm while Maffey's golden eyes gleamed through the mist, twin suns of contempt.
"You know what…?" Maffey said at last, her voice curling with mock amusement as she took a deep drag from the cigar between her lips. Her golden eyes gleamed with cruel delight. "Hand the fishman over. Do that, and maybe—just maybe—I'll put in a word with the Supreme Commander. Who knows? He might even consider welcoming you back into the fold."
She took a slow step forward, boots crunching against the shattered stone, her grin stretching wider with every word.
"Of course," she continued, tone dropping into a venomous purr, "you'll have to accept that things won't be the same. You won't get your old privileges back—no silks, no servants, no golden halls. You'll crawl where you used to walk. You'll bow to the same men who once kissed the hem of your robe."
Her laughter sliced through the storm, cruel and mocking, echoing off the ruined walls around them. "That's the price of failure, dear Agana. And make no mistake—the Supreme Commander never forgets those who disappoint him. Even blood can't wash away that stain."
Maffey's eyes glimmered in the lightning flash that tore the sky, her tone now dripping with theatrical pity. "But who knows? Maybe he'll let you live. Keep you as a pet. A pretty little relic of what you once were."
She tilted her head, watching for a reaction—any flicker of doubt, any weakness to exploit. But Agana's expression didn't shift; her face remained carved from stone, her gaze unflinching. And that only made Maffey's smirk widen further.
Because deep down, she wasn't offering redemption. She was twisting the knife. Every word she spoke was a reminder of what Agana had abandoned—the divine bloodline, the throne of gods, the chance at immortality—and Maffey reveled in the chance to drag her fallen kin through the dirt.
"Are you done?" Agana's voice cut through the noise—sharp, cold, and bored.
Her words held no fear, only the faintest trace of disdain. Maybe the rest of the world trembled before the Celestial Dragons and their gilded knights, but to her—someone who had once worn the same mantle and then torn it from her own flesh—their so-called divinity was nothing but theater. Maffey's smirk faltered.
"Maybe the others still worship your kind," Agana continued, voice rising like a blade unsheathing. "But I've seen what lies beneath the mask. You're not gods. You're parasites wrapped in silk, and soon a day will come when you understand that..."
Then she tilted her head, eyes narrowing in cruel amusement. "And for an undead old hag, you talk too damn much."
The words hit like a slap. The smirk vanished. Maffey's gaze sharpened, the ember of her cigar dying in the rain as the air around her turned frigid. The veins along her temple pulsed as her jaw tightened.
"…What did you just say to me?" she hissed, her voice a low growl that rolled through the smoke.
Her lips twisted into a snarl, the cigar snapping in half between her teeth. "Say that again, you little bitch, and I'll tear that pretty tongue out and hang it from my sword."
Agana didn't bother replying. Her patience had limits—and Maffey's voice had long since grated past them. The world blurred.
"Soru..."
Agana vanished, leaving nothing but a crimson afterimage. The ground cracked beneath where she'd stood, droplets of blood scattering into steam.
Before Maffey could even blink, the fallen noble was upon her—blade drawn in a single, fluid motion, the edge coated in blackened Busoshoku that shimmered like obsidian lightning. Maffey's eyes widened—she moved, instincts honed by centuries of battle kicking in as her observation haki raced to keep track of her opponent—but Agana was faster.
The strike came in low and upward, a diagonal slash that split the air itself. Steel met flesh with a sound like thunder. A burst of red sprayed across the rain.
Maffey's body twisted violently as the impact hurled her backward, her boots carving trenches through the soaked cobblestone before she crashed into a nearby building. The stone exploded under the force, collapsing around her in a plume of dust and debris.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then, from the rubble, came the low, guttural sound of laughter.
"Ghhh—hahaha… you little rat…"
Chunks of stone rolled aside as Maffey stood, smoke curling from her mouth. Her white coat was torn, hanging off one shoulder, revealing the deep gash carved just above her chest — a jagged wound that ran along her collarbone and down across the swell of her cleavage. Blood trickled down, bright and dark against her pale skin.
But beneath that wound, her flesh shimmered faintly — the mark of unnatural regeneration already knitting the torn skin together. Maffey spat to the side, wiping a smear of blood from her chin with the back of her hand. "You've got some nerve… attacking me like that."
Her voice was different now — lower, rougher, laced with venom and something far older than arrogance. Her cigar was gone, replaced by the faint glow of haki that flared around her like molten gold.
She rolled her neck, vertebrae cracking audibly. "I forget sometimes what it's like to bleed. Guess I should thank you for the reminder." The rain hissed against the aura of her haki, turning to steam before touching her skin. Then, her grin returned — cruel and wide.
"You always were the arrogant one, thinking you were better than the rest just because of your overwhelming talent," she spat, brushing dust from her jacket. "Still think you're better than the blood that made you. Still think you can survive after giving up on your identity…?" She flexed her fingers, and the air itself trembled. "Let's see if you're still this cocky when I grind your bones into the mud, you traitorous little whore."
Agana raised her blade again, her face expressionless—only her eyes burned, a deep carmine glow behind the rain. Around her, the blood armor shifted—thousands of droplets spiraling tighter, forming ghostly wings that flared with each heartbeat.
"Try it, you old hag…" she said quietly. "Let's see if immortality can save you when your head hits the ground."
The tension between them detonated. Maffey lunged forward, haki flaring like a sunburst, the cobblestones shattering beneath her feet. Agana moved to meet her, the blade drawing another crimson arc through the storm.
The world went white with the collision—steel and haki clashing, blood and thunder merging as two divine lineages, both fallen in their own ways, crossed blades amid the burning ruin of the island.
****
The skies above Water 7 had turned into a scene torn straight from the end of days. Lightning crackled through blood-red clouds, thunder rolled like the wrath of gods, and the entire island trembled beneath the fury of giants. What had begun as a naval siege had devolved into total war—a clash so vast and cataclysmic that the sea itself seemed to recoil.
Down below, chaos reigned. The Bloodsteel Pirates had breached the Marine blockade, their ships cutting through what remained of the Navy's fleet like wolves through a wounded herd. The once-brilliant city of Water 7—jewel of shipwrights and architects—was now nothing but a labyrinth of burning timber and molten steel.
Vice Admiral Vergo fought amidst collapsing docks, his Armament Haki burning black against the hurricane of Smoothie's blade and Cracker's monstrous biscuit constructs. Each clash sent shockwaves that cracked the ground beneath their feet. And somewhere further in, the candied nightmare Charlotte Perospero led the horde of Bloodsteel pirates into the heart of the city, leaving behind rivers of candied syrup and blood as he hunted for the fabled Ancient Weapon blueprints.
High above the carnage, beams of golden light flickered like comets as Borsalino, the Yellow Monkey, zipped across the night, his every kick splitting the sky itself. But even his impossible speed was challenged—Katakuri, second-in-command of the Bloodsteel Pirates and the man worth over a billion berries, moved with foresight so sharp it bordered on prophecy.
Every photon blast was met with a crushing fist of mochi hardened by Haki so dense it rippled the air. The two blurred across the horizon, trading blows that shattered the sound barrier again and again, their duel painting streaks of gold and crimson across the chaos. And yet—even amidst such devastation—nothing compared to what was unfolding above them all.
The heavens split as a roar tore through the storm.
"BOLO BREATH!!!"
From the mouth of the Azure Dragon Kaido, a searing column of fire lanced across the sky, incandescent and unending, tearing through clouds and rain alike. The breath of the Beast Emperor turned the world to daylight, its heat melting the steel of warships below and setting the sea aflame.
But his opponent did not yield.
"PRIMAL CARNAGE!!!"
The voice that answered was cold, commanding, and filled with the magnetized hum of destruction. From within the hurricane of shrapnel and debris, a colossal metal serpent reared up—its body a fusion of jagged ship hulls, iron girders, and broken city. Every inch of it crackled with violet electricity. Its eyes, twin furnaces of magnetic energy, glared up at the dragon.
The serpent opened its maw, and Scarlett, standing atop its head, extended her hand—palm out, fingers splayed, every muscle coiled in concentration. The air around her distorted as the magnetic fields bent to her will, and the serpent's throat glowed with a growing pulse of raw power.
Then it fired. A beam of violet destruction, pure electromagnetic annihilation, ripped through the storm to meet the azure inferno head-on. The two attacks collided. For an instant, there was silence. Then—the world exploded.
The clash tore the heavens apart. The shockwave vaporized the rain mid-fall, scattering molten droplets like shards of glass. The air screamed as magnetic and draconic energy wrestled for dominance, forming a massive sphere of collapsing plasma that devoured everything caught within its radius.
Below, even the fiercest warriors faltered. Katakuri and Kizaru paused mid-strike, their gazes snapping skyward as the apocalypse unfolded above them.
Lightning bled crimson. Thunder screamed like the roars of dying gods. The magnetic serpent strained, its body fracturing under the sheer pressure of Kaido's flames, but Scarlett's eyes blazed with defiance, her hands trembling as she poured every ounce of will into holding her creation together.
Kaido's roar deepened, fury and exhilaration merging as he pushed harder, his Bolo Breath burning brighter, blue flames now tinged with white. The metal serpent's frame began to liquefy, but just before it could collapse, Scarlett screamed—a wordless cry of fury and dominance—and with a surge of magnetism, she compressed all surrounding debris into the serpent's core.
"NOW!"
The serpent detonated. The explosion swallowed the sky. A ring of violet-blue energy expanded outward, flattening clouds for miles. The shockwave hit Water 7 a moment later—a city-wide hurricane that shattered windows, ripped ships from their moorings, and flung men like leaves into the sea.
Kaido's massive body crashed through the storm, his scales scorched and smoking, but his grin—wild and unbroken—remained.
"Good! GOOD!" he bellowed, laughter echoing like thunder. "It's been too long since someone's made me feel alive!"
The storm that blanketed Water 7 had long since transcended anything mortal. It was no longer rain—it was the wrath of the heavens themselves, unleashed to bear witness to the clash of monsters.
High above the burning seas, the colossal Azure Dragon Kaido coiled through the night sky, scales glowing like molten sapphire, his every movement rippling with thunderous might. The air quaked beneath his roar, his laughter rolling like the end of the world itself.
"IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT!?" Kaido bellowed, his voice a living avalanche.
Across from him floated Scarlett, framed in a tempest of spinning metal and lightning. Broken ship hulls, twisted cannons, anchors, chains—all drawn to her magnetic will, forming an ever-revolving wall of death around her. Sparks arced across the metallic storm, the air alive with the hum of power. Her crimson eyes burned brighter than the inferno below.
"You overgrown lizard…" she hissed, her metal arm gleaming gold and crimson in the lightning flashes. "Do you really have time to be distracted while fighting me?" Then she raised her mechanical arm, and the world seemed to hold its breath. Her voice carried through the storm—commanding, divine, absolute.
"GOD KILLER!!!"
At first, nothing happened. Even Kaido's monstrous grin faltered in confusion. Then his Observation Haki screamed. A primal, ancient instinct ripped through his senses—danger, vast and incomprehensible, was descending from above. The Azure Dragon's head snapped upward. His eyes widened as a golden glow pierced through the churning clouds.
It wasn't lightning. It wasn't fire. It was the atmosphere itself splitting apart. The clouds tore open like fragile paper, revealing a massive pillar of light and metal, a colossal spear forged from compressed debris, molten ore, and magnetic force—a weapon birthed from the planet's own scars.
Scarlett had hurled the weapon from the edge of the stratosphere, propelling it beyond sight with the force of her magnetic field, letting it fall—accelerating through gravity, enforced by her Haoshoku Haki, wrapped in her killing intent. It was no mere attack. It was judgment incarnate.
Kaido's laughter returned, thunderous and ecstatic.
"WORORORORORO!!!"
His grin split wider, manic joy blazing in his eyes. "NOW THAT'S MORE LIKE IT!" As the descending golden spear grew to engulf the sky, Kaido's coils shimmered and warped, his dragon body igniting with molten fire.
"KAEN DAIKO!!!"
His scales melted into magma, his mane flared like the sun's corona, and his Haoshoku erupted outward in shockwaves that shattered the air itself. The sea below boiled, waves disintegrating into steam as two wills of emperors collided—conqueror against conqueror, god against god.
The spear of divine wrath met the flames of hell head-on. The resulting explosion was beyond light or sound—a white void that consumed the sky. The atmosphere buckled. The magnetic fields screamed. The island's steel skeleton groaned and bent beneath the pressure. The impact tore a crater in the heavens.
A mushroom cloud of molten gold and sapphire fire erupted over Water 7, its light visible from hundreds of miles away. When the world finally stopped shaking, a single shadow emerged from the heart of the storm.
Kaido, battered and smoldering, his once-gleaming scales cracked and scorched, his colossal dragon form bleeding rivulets of molten gold, laughed—a deep, thunderous, terrifying sound that rolled through the void like a beast too strong to die.
His chest heaved, his body torn but his spirit blazing brighter than ever. Scarlett's attack had wounded him—truly wounded him—something no ordinary being could claim. But instead of rage, his laughter grew louder, wilder.
"You actually hurt me...!" he roared, voice echoing like a god's proclamation. "HAHAHAHA! FINALLY—FINALLY SOMEONE WORTH THE TITLE OF MONSTER!!!"
His Haoshoku surged again, a storm of raw dominance radiating from him that split the sea apart for miles. And through the flaming haze, Scarlett hovered, her breath ragged but her gaze fierce, unwavering. Blood trickled down her lip; the magnetic storm still spiraled around her like a living deity of iron and fury.
Her voice was calm. Cold. Unafraid. "I told you, Kaido… a dragon can bleed too."
Kaido's grin widened. "Then come make me bleed again, woman."
The storm answered their challenge. Thunder roared, fire rained, and the heavens themselves bowed under the combined weight of their wills. That night, the sky above Water 7 was no longer a sky. It was a battlefield of gods. And the world would remember it—not as a clash between pirates—but as the night when two emperors scarred the very heavens, proving once and for all that monsters still walked among men.