The wind roared past Sephiroth's ears as he was launched skyward, his body momentarily frozen mid-air. He struggled to comprehend why Red-Haired Shanks had ambushed him.
Had he overstepped by claiming the man's territory? Or had word reached Shanks about his interference with Uta, igniting a father's wrath to carve him into fish bait?
His thoughts scattered as a figure materialized before him. The price of his distraction became clear—
Divine Avoidance!
Roger, gripping the legendary blade Ace, flashed into position where Sephiroth was about to land. With a burst of Conqueror's Haki, Roger slammed him back to the ground, carving a crater into the earth.
Before Sephiroth could claw his way out, a voice boomed from above.
"Earth Scroll!"
The ground trembled violently as surrounding rocks shifted, twisting and spinning to trap him in an airtight prison, suffocating him beneath the weight of stone.
Gritting his teeth, Sephiroth summoned Armament Haki to shield his body. He bent his legs sharply, muscles straining as he launched himself upward, breaking free from the rocky restraints and soaring into the air.
Just as he caught his breath, a thunderous laugh echoed around him.
"Gurararara! Hate to do this, kid, but it's necessary. Sorry!"
Sephiroth's gaze snapped downward to see Whitebeard, his golden hair gleaming, leaping from the ground with Murakumogiri in hand. The blade arced toward him, dark red lightning crackling along its edge.
Ambushed three times in quick succession, Sephiroth's instincts kicked into overdrive. With a metallic clang, he crossed his twin swords to block Whitebeard's strike. Using the momentum, he flapped his wings twice, propelling himself higher into the air to create distance.
His eyes swept the battlefield below.
Whitebeard with his golden mane, Golden Lion standing tall on unbroken legs, Red-Haired Shanks missing an arm, and Roger in his prime.
Sephiroth's mind reeled. Three legendary pirates and an Emperor—this was an absurdly stacked lineup.
Though their auras didn't radiate the overwhelming strength of true Emperors, their combat prowess was undeniable, rivaling that of an Emperor's top subordinates. Sephiroth pieced it together instantly—someone was pulling the strings.
......
Meanwhile, in the spectator stands, Redfield calmly dodged the Hawkeye Seraphim's slashes. In his left hand, he held a green leaf; in his right, a pen. With practiced ease, he inscribed the name "Carl D. Sephiroth" onto the leaf.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the air.
Swish! The leaf burst into smoke, coalescing into an illusionary Sephiroth. The figure turned to the Hawkeye Seraphim and commanded, "Seraphim, stop attacking immediately!"
Upon hearing this, the Hawkeye Seraphim merely glanced at the illusion, then raised its massive cross-shaped sword forged from special alloy. Without hesitation, it swung the blade toward the false Sephiroth, who drew a butcher knife to block the strike.
Redfield's brow furrowed. "Hmm? It seems the illusion can't override the Seraphim's programmed commands..."
Redfield shook his head, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He'd hoped his plan would seize control of fifty Seraphim or at least disrupt their attack commands. That would have freed the cadres of the two Four Emperors Pirate Crews, who were currently pinned down by the Seraphim, to join the encirclement against Sephiroth.
But reality had a way of shattering illusions—literally. His illusions, though convincing, were still just that: illusions. They couldn't fully replicate reality, and the Seraphim remained unshaken.
What stung more was the missed opportunity. He'd caught Sephiroth off guard, hurling four leaves that transformed into four powerful illusions. Their strength, though only three-tenths of the original, had been enough to deal a significant blow. But it hadn't been enough to finish him.
Sephiroth's voice cut through the air, cold and venomous.
"Very good, Redfield... You've succeeded in angering me. Are you ready to face death?"
As he spoke, the aura around him shifted dramatically. The Vampire Fruit's awakened state surged through him, his killing intent radiating in palpable waves.
Sephiroth had initially prioritized Imu and the Gorosei, aiming to prevent their escape. He'd delegated the Seraphim to handle Redfield, Captain Kid, and the others, keeping himself out of the fray. But Redfield's cunning had nearly turned the tide, catching him off guard in a way he hadn't anticipated.
No more delays. Sephiroth knew he had to end this quickly. Who knew what other tricks Redfield might pull?
"You're arrogant to the extreme, young man," he growled.
Redfield smirked, raising a hand to point at Sephiroth hovering in the sky. With a mental command, he directed his illusions to converge on their target.
The illusionary Sephiroth, who had just distanced himself from the Hawkeye Seraphim, raised his twin swords into a precise stance. The air crackled with energy as he unleashed Long Duan Kong Zhan. Hundreds of thousands of dark red sword slashes erupted, coalescing into a roaring dragon head that surged toward the real Sephiroth.
Simultaneously, the illusions of Roger and the others launched their own attacks, their movements synchronized and deadly.
On the other side, Imu, who had just been struck by Sephiroth's sword and sent crashing into the audience stands, leaped into the sky. His eyes burned with vengeance as he prepared to join forces with the illusions, intent on delivering the final blow to Sephiroth.