"Divine Evasion—!"
White Ghost roared and swung his great black blade with everything he had.
"Heh—Asura Nether Slash!"
Shura refused to yield and answered with a slash of his own.
BOOM—!
Conqueror's Haki erupted from both of them, spearing into the sky and whipping the air so violently that even the clouds avoided this region—like the heavens themselves didn't dare drift too close.
White Ghost laughed, hoarse and feral.
"Hahaha! Old man—being able to fight me this long… you're not bad!"
His body was laced with countless small cuts. His Mythical Zoan regeneration kept knitting them together—
—but the damage carved in by Conqueror's coating wasn't the kind of pain you simply "heal." It clung. It bit. It chewed at the inside of the flesh.
Worst of all was the gash across his chest.
One single slash had torn from his left chest down to nearly his thigh. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound refused to close—
because a cold, ghostly energy had sunk into it like poison.
If he stopped fighting, he could force a full regeneration.
But right now?
White Ghost didn't care.
As long as he didn't die, it was fine.
"Ha… ha…"
Shura panted, his voice rough from ten days of grinding battle.
"I didn't expect a youngster like you to be this strong… to push me into this state…"
He snorted, then—strangely—his eyes held a flicker of respect.
"If you'd lived in our era… you'd be among the very strongest."
Shura's body didn't carry many "small wounds."
But what he'd lost was grotesque.
Out of his original three heads, two had been shaved off.
Out of his four extra arms, only one remained.
Earlier, White Ghost had ripped open Shura's waist; a huge chunk of flesh was missing, and his intestines had nearly spilled out.
Now that wound was half-closed—barely.
Shura's aura flickered violently, unstable, as if it might explode or collapse at any moment.
They had fought for ten days.
Their Conqueror's Haki was almost ground down to nothing.
Now it wasn't "who has stronger kingly pressure."
It was pure endurance—
a final, vicious contest of who collapsed first.
White Ghost leapt.
"Mighty Miracle Slash!"
Shura's mouth twitched.
"Your move names are… refreshingly innocent."
Even so, he still raised his greatsword with both hands and caught White Ghost's falling blade.
His last remaining back-arm clutched at his waist, terrified his guts would spill out if he relaxed for even a breath.
White Ghost bared his teeth and pushed down.
"As long as it works, who cares?"
KRAK—KRAK—!
Steel screamed against steel. Both of them poured everything they had left into the clash, trying to crush the other through sheer will.
BOOM—!
The ground beneath Shura caved in, blasting into a crater.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward in every direction.
White Ghost grunted, forcing the pressure down.
"Old man—when you say 'your era'… what era is that? Two hundred years ago? Three? I can't even picture it."
The blades separated with a sharp burst of force.
Shura steadied himself, breathing hard.
"About two hundred years."
"You already know—we survived by relying on a special kind of Devil Fruit."
"All for that day."
He stared at White Ghost with a resentment that didn't feel new—like it had been carried for generations.
"It's a shame you refused to join us."
Shura swung.
A blade wave tore across the battlefield.
White Ghost cut it apart—
and answered with one of his own, a hundred-meter slash ripping forward.
White Ghost narrowed his eyes.
"I thought you were one of the eight-hundred-year rats… but now it looks like those guys have been active across different eras too."
He paused, then shrugged.
"As for joining any organization—no interest."
"I joined the Marines early on for strength, sure. But that's it."
"And teaming up with you to 'flip the sky'?"
"Sorry."
"I just want to live a good life."
"I'm not trying to defy fate."
"I'm not some movie protagonist."
They faced each other at a distance, both silently stealing a few seconds to recover even a fraction of stamina.
Because they both understood it.
This was the end.
Next exchange—
either you die, or I do.
—
On Smoker's warship, far from the ruined island, Kizaru watched with his usual lazy expression, hands in his pockets as if he was watching fireworks.
"So scary~"
"These two are really something… they've been fighting for ten days."
"Mythical Zoans are terrifying, aren't they~"
Smoker glanced at the Admiral and said nothing.
Mocking your superior was a good way to get targeted later.
Then Smoker stared toward the battlefield.
Half a mountain—no.
Half the island's entire mountain range—had been carved away by those two monsters.
Even their aftershocks carried the smell of death.
And that was only the aftershock.
Smoker clenched his teeth.
"Conqueror's Haki…"
"Why don't I have it… damn it."
A CP0 agent in a white dog mask spoke calmly.
"Borsalino."
"It's time to move and seize the person the Five Elders demanded."
"CP0 is here to complete the order."
Kizaru raised both hands immediately, like a man surrendering to a robbery.
"Ah—nope, nope~"
"I can't act right now."
"If White Ghost gets angry, I really don't want to fight a Mythical Zoan."
"Very scary~"
Another CP0 agent—wearing a bird mask—spoke in a cold, indifferent tone.
"Then we kill them both and take the target."
The moment he said it—
Kizaru flash-stepped away.
The bird-mask CP0 turned, about to ask what he was doing—
and then froze.
Because several murderous gazes locked onto him.
From another warship nearby, White Ghost's crew stared at him like wolves.
The CP0 agent turned stiffly and forced a calm voice.
"…Do you have objections?"
"I am CP0. The World Government's will."
"And an Admiral is here."
"You low-born—"
Before he could finish—
Zango's body expanded into a half-beast saber-toothed tiger.
"ROAR!"
"I want to test the strength of CP agents."
Pedro spat his cigarette, muscles swelling as he transformed.
"Count me in."
"ROAR—!"
Two more presences flared.
With a hum of power, the Mythical forms of Angel and Demon manifested—
Kuina and Bai Hezi drew their blades, eyes cold.
"I've never had a chance to fight CP before," Kuina said.
Senior Pink lit a cigarette.
"Looks like we finally do."
No one else spoke.
But their faces clearly said:
Say that again. See if we don't cut you down.
World Government or not—
you bleed the same.
The CP0 agent swallowed.
Kizaru and Smoker drifted even farther away, wearing expressions of:
We saw nothing. We heard nothing.
The Marines and CP had never gotten along anyway.
Nami puffed her cheeks, fingers lifting toward the sky.
Crackling currents gathered at her fingertips.
Thunder rolled—
as if the next second a divine bolt would drop.
Kizaru glanced up.
Then looked at the little girl again.
"Goro Goro no Mi…"
"So scary…"
"How many treasures does White Ghost even have?"
"Even the most destructive Lightning Logia ended up in his hands…?"
Smoker's mouth tasted bitter.
Compared to that, his Smoke Fruit felt like something people wouldn't even pick up off the ground.
Ain reached out and gently pressed Nami's wrist down.
Then she stared at the CP agents and spoke flatly:
"If you don't want a beating…"
"Don't say things like that again."
The CP agents fell silent.
On the opposite side: two Mythical Zoans, multiple Ancient Zoans, dangerous Paramecia users…
If they fought here, the two of them would suffer.
And the Marines would likely "accidentally" look away.
—
"Divine Evasion—!"
White Ghost's roar thundered from the battlefield again.
The brief pause ended.
The monsters resumed.
Conqueror's Haki surged upward once more—
and everyone snapped their attention back.
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