Garling Saint's mind went blank.
What…?
Was it intentional?
By the time he realized it, it was already too late.
His all-out strike—one he had been absolutely certain would land—could no longer be withdrawn.
At the instant the sword tip, wrapped in pitch-black Armament Haki and that eerie, ominous energy, was about to touch the thin layer of golden light at Lucian's back—
Lucian—the seemingly exhausted golden figure hanging in midair, completely exposed—did not even turn around.
As if he had eyes on the back of his head, he simply reached his right hand behind him.
Index and middle fingers together.
And—
Clamped.
Clang!!!
A shrill metallic screech tore through the air, sharp enough to scrape at the eardrums.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it carried an absolute, overwhelming force.
Time itself seemed to slam into a dead stop.
The wild elation frozen on Garling Saint's face turned rigid, locking into a grotesque statue. His bloodshot eyes shrank to pinpoints the instant he truly saw what was happening.
His sword…
His blade, carrying his full power, his family's secret techniques, Armament Haki, and that sinister energy—an attack that could rival legends—
Had been stopped.
Caught between two fingers.
Two fingers.
There wasn't even a trace of Haki on them.
The sword's tip was less than half an inch from the golden flames burning over Lucian's body.
And yet that half-inch was an unbridgeable chasm.
The mountain-splitting force in the blade vanished the moment it touched his fingertips—erased by something vast, incomprehensible, and utterly dominant.
"N… no… impossible!!!"
Garling Saint let out a beast-like howl, throwing his entire body into it. Veins bulged along his arm as he tried to force the blade forward even a fraction.
But the sword was as if welded to those fingers, locked in place by a terrifying power—
Not moving in the slightest.
The overwhelming absurdity and humiliation shattered what remained of his reason.
How could this be?!
This was his full-power strike!
How could it be… so easily… stopped?!
In the instant his mind collapsed into chaos, the golden figure that terrified him finally turned his head—just halfway.
The pure white mask, bathed in golden flames, looked all the more sacred… and all the more ominous.
A cold gaze—one that seemed to see through every stain of filth and baseness in his soul—fell upon him.
A voice, the kind used to judge something as worthless, rang out:
"That's all you've got?"
Soft.
But devastating.
Boom—
His pride.
His dignity.
His superiority as a Celestial Dragon of the highest bloodline.
The all-or-nothing strike he had staked everything on.
All of it was smashed to pieces by those few words.
"You…"
The venomous roar rising in Garling Saint's throat died as he saw the mockery in Lucian's eyes vanish.
What replaced it was absolute cold—utterly devoid of emotion.
Killing intent.
So pure it made every hair on his body stand on end.
Bad!
His instincts screamed for him to retreat.
But in the tenth of a second that shock and humiliation left him frozen—
Lucian's other hand moved.
That hand casually clenched into a fist.
A ring of golden divine power, compressed to its extreme, flashed over his knuckles.
Then—
Along the simplest, most direct path—
It drove forward.
There was no wind.
The punch surpassed sound, surpassed light, surpassed the limits of Garling Saint's perception.
In his dilated pupils, all he saw was a point of gold rapidly expanding.
His mind never even had time to form the thought dodge.
The fist—
Arrived.
BOOM!!!
A deep, heart-stopping impact.
Lucian's fist buried itself into Figarland Garling Saint's chest.
The luxurious white formal coat he wore didn't even have time to tear—it was annihilated into fundamental particles by the violent energy.
His hardened chest collapsed inward at a horrifying angle before the stunned eyes of the remaining Knights.
A clear fist imprint was branded into his breastbone.
"P—!"
A spray of blood mixed with shattered organs burst from Garling Saint's mouth, carving a crimson arc through the air.
An indescribable, irresistible, utterly incomprehensible force tore through his body.
His frame bent into a reverse bow in an instant.
Life drained from him at a terrifying speed.
He didn't feel pain.
Because before his nerves even had the right to react, they were crushed completely by that absolute power.
His body became a black speck, hurled backward at a speed that defied all physical law.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
More than a dozen towering trees were smashed apart in succession, exploding into clouds of splintered wood.
Finally—under everyone's stunned gaze—that figure, trailing smoke and ruin, was driven deep into a mountainside hundreds of meters away!
RUMBLE—!!!
The impact thundered as the entire cliff shuddered.
From the point of collision, massive cracks spider-webbed outward. Rocks cascaded down in an avalanche of debris, kicking up a sky-filling cloud of dust.
Silence.
The wind died.
Every surviving member of the God's Knights stood frozen, as if turned to stone.
Mouths agape.
Eyes wide.
Minds utterly blank.
They could not process what they had just seen.
Their commander…
The godlike Figarland Garling Saint in their eyes…
The man who moments ago had been preparing to judge a sinner and turn him into a specimen…
After launching his strongest sneak attack…
Had been—
Punched away.
By a single blow.
This… this couldn't be real…
This had to be an illusion.
The idea itself was more absurd than the sun rising in the west.
Lucian drew back his fist, still hovering in midair.
The two fingers that had been clamping Garling Saint's sword loosened.
Deprived of its master's power, the blood-stained blade fell limply to the ground.
Lucian didn't spare it a glance.
He lowered his gaze to his fingertips.
Then raised his hand to his lips—and gently blew across them.
As if brushing away dust that wasn't even there.
Casual.
Indifferent.
The ultimate expression of contempt toward Garling Saint.
Only after that did he look toward the distant mountainside, now shrouded in dust and ruin.
His voice wasn't loud, yet everyone on the battlefield heard it clearly.
"A beast is still a beast. Even the way you fight is only fit for sneak attacks."
"And you didn't seriously think you could catch my opening with those two tricks of yours, did you?"
"I was just playing with you. Didn't expect you, you idiot, to actually fall for it."
The moment the words fell—
"ROAR—!!!!"
A howl erupted from the ruins—no longer human in the slightest, filled with agony, humiliation, madness, and bottomless hatred—ripping straight into the sky.