[POV: Flower Sword Vista ]
"Ha... Ha..."
Vista breathed heavily, the chilled air tearing at his lungs. The atmosphere of Marineford tasted strictly of ash, vaporized blood, and the bitter, metallic tang of ozone.
Under normal circumstances, Vista fought with a joyous, theatrical elegance. But there was absolutely no poetry to be found on this frozen bay today. There was only the suffocating, unyielding weight of an apocalypse.
"Power..."
Vista tightened his grip on his hilts, his knuckles turning stark white under his dark gloves. His wide chest heaved as he stood amidst the vanguard of the Whitebeard Pirates, his dark eyes locked onto the center of the plaza.
His mind was still reeling, violently attempting to process the sheer, impossible trauma of the last ten minutes.
It had started with the sky screaming. Vista remembered looking up, his combat instincts warning him of an incoming projectile, only to see a black dot expanding with unnatural, terrifying velocity.
A hundred-ton Marine galleon, transformed into a hypersonic missile. He had watched in awe as Fleet Admiral Sengoku's golden shockwave obliterated the first one, and he had felt a surge of immense pride when his father, Edward Newgate, shattered the second with a massive quake.
One more came and got destroyed. It looked like the threat was over.
But then the sky had torn open entirely. Three more dots. Three more mountains of iron and wood plummeting from the heavens.
Vista's heart had stopped in his chest. The sound of the Moby Dick being crushed would haunt Vista until the end of his days.
It was their home. To hear its thick timber snap, to watch its majestic figurehead shatter into a million unrecognizable splinters under the crushing weight of the False Deity's flying ship... it was a psychological devastation that cut far deeper than any blade.
And then, the architect of that devastation had simply stepped out of his cabin.
Light Yagami.
Vista stared at the man in the pristine black coat. The False Deity was casually walking across the ice, executing pirates and Marines alike without a single ounce of exertion. A burning, volcanic rage boiled in Vista's gut. He wanted nothing more than to cross the distance, to unleash a flurry of his most devastating sword techniques, and carve the arrogant, unhinged smile right off the Reaper's face. He wanted to make the man bleed for disrespecting Whitebeard, for destroying their home, for treating this war like a casual stroll through a graveyard.
But Marco's voice echoed in his head.
For Ace.
Vista forced himself to stay planted. He couldn't let his rage blind him. Every ounce of his energy had to be dedicated to breaching the execution scaffold. If he threw his life away trying to exact vengeance on an the chaos stirrer, he would be failing his brother.
So, Vista watched. And as he watched, the World's Strongest Swordsman finally made his move.
'Good!'
Dracule Mihawk, a man Vista respected deeply and dreamed of crossing blades with, drew the legendary Black Blade, Yoru. Vista felt the shift in the atmosphere immediately. As a master swordsman, Vista's senses were hyper-attuned to the intent behind a blade.
When Mihawk swung Yoru downward, Vista's breath hitched.
It was a vertical slash of the peak. There was no Devil Fruit power behind it. There was no Haki. It was just the absolute pinnacle of kinetic force, compressed into a towering crescent of screaming green energy. The slash parted the frozen sea, creating a massive, bottomless canyon in the ice as it hurtled directly toward Light Yagami.
Yes, Vista thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. A dark, vengeful hope flared in his chest.
Let Hawk-Eye end him. Let the pinnacle of the sword erase that arrogant bastard from the world.
Light Yagami hadn't even been looking. He had been in the middle of executing a Marine sniper. But at the last possible second, the False Deity turned.
Vista watched, his eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated disbelief, as Light lazily raised his pitch-black saber. The man didn't brace himself. He didn't drop his center of gravity to absorb the apocalyptic impact. He simply swung his saber in a sharp, horizontal arc.
Slash!
And unbelievably
A colossal crescent of compressed vacuum erupted from Light's dark blade. It was nearly identical in size and sheer destructive presence to Mihawk's attack, screaming across the ice horizontally.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The collision shattered the air. Vista was forced to cross his twin sabers in front of his face, planting his boots firmly into the ice just to keep from being blown backward by the resulting shockwave.
When the blinding light faded and the hurricane-force winds died down, Vista lowered his blades. He stared at the massive, perfectly symmetrical, cross-shaped crater carved into the center of the plaza. He stared at the geyser of ocean water shooting into the sky where the ice had been entirely vaporized.
And he stared at Light Yagami, who was standing perfectly still, utterly unharmed, his black coat barely ruffled.
Vista's jaw went completely slack. The vengeful hope in his chest was instantly extinguished.
As a swordsman, Vista understood exactly what he had just witnessed. To intercept a flying slash of that magnitude, one normally needed to overwhelm it with a larger mass of Haki or deflect its trajectory. But Light hadn't done either. He had perfectly matched the frequency, the speed, and the kinetic weight of Mihawk's strike. He had thrown a horizontal slash that completely, mathematically cancelled out the vertical one.
"He... he matched it," Vista whispered hoarsely to himself, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. "A horizontal cut to cancel the vertical... with equal force. He didn't use that invisible telekinesis. That was pure swordplay. Where the hell did he come from?!"
Vista realized, with a sinking dread, that the man they had sworn vengeance against wasn't just a monster with a terrifying Devil Fruit-like power. He was an apex predator who had mastered the blade to a degree that rivaled the top of the world.
⬛ ⬛ ⬛
High above the cratered, smoking plaza, the mood on the execution scaffold was equally grim.
"He's stronger again..."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku stood at the railing, his knuckles white as he gripped the wood. Beside him, Vice Admiral Garp sat cross-legged, his face buried in shadows, while the legendary Great Staff Officer, Tsuru, stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
Tsuru's aged, sharp eyes were locked intensely onto the False Deity.
Unlike the pirates, Tsuru knew Light Yagami's history. She remembered the young, prodigiously talented man who had once worn the pristine white coat of a Marine officer. He had been quiet, efficient, and fiercely dedicated to the concept of Justice... well, at least from the looks.
The higher-ups had earmarked him for greatness. They had believed he would be the ultimate weapon for Justice, a shining beacon for the next generation of Admirals.
And then, Sabaody.
"A shame."
Tsuru vividly remembered reading the frantic, deeply classified report. Light had snapped. The inherent, rotting corruption of the Celestial Dragons had pushed the kid's rigid morality past its breaking point.
Every once in a while, few defected from the Marines. But none killed a Celestial Dragon at it.
Tsuru felt a deep, complicated sorrow twisting in her chest. A former Marine, she thought, her eyes tracing the trail of dead Marines and pirates left in Light's wake.
The World Government's absolute corruption birthed its own apocalypse. And now he is judging us.
"Sengoku," Tsuru spoke, her voice calm but carrying the heavy weight of inevitable disaster. "Light... he is not here to aid the Whitebeard Pirates. He is here to destroy 'criminals', as he says. Potentially meaning... everyone."
"Mm."
Sengoku remained impassive, yet his eyes darkened.
"I see it, Tsuru," Sengoku growled, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "He decimated our headquarters. He crushed the Whitebeard's ship. And now..." Sengoku gestured toward the massive cross-shaped crater in the ice. "...Now he proves he can match Hawk-Eye in pure swordsmanship without even utilizing that terrifying telekinetic force."
"It's his statement to the world."
"That he would not stop."
"Against anyone."
"At any cost."
Sengoku made up his mind.
Previously, he had not pursued the boy because he believed the boy couldn't stand watching the Celestial Dragon's atrocities.
He had believed he had failed a promising young Marine.
But...
Everything had its limits.
"Ha... "
"Today. He needs to die."
"For peace."
"For Justice!"
"Sengoku..." Tsuru couldn't say anything. She felt it was a pity too. Garp, meanwhile, couldn't care. His own family was in trouble.
"What are your orders, Fleet Admiral?" a nervous communications officer asked, clutching a Den Den Mushi. "The men are terrified. They don't know whether to focus on the pirates or the False Deity."
Sengoku closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, perhaps, out of guilt.
Then.
"Maintain the defensive line against Whitebeard," Sengoku ordered, his voice cold and hard. "But shift the priority of the elite snipers and the unengaged Vice Admirals. If Light Yagami steps within range of the platform, you are to concentrate all lethal force upon him."
" The False Deity must not leave this island alive."
.
.
.
A/N: Say, do you want me to up the pace here, or keep it chill? I kept the initial chapters slow to build the environment first, as a goal. What do you say?