The blade fell, transforming into dark-gold sword slash that struck Akainu's magma-coated arm with a piercing whistle.
Tremendous resistance surged up the steel alongside blistering heat, making the flesh of Zaraki's palm sizzle as the temperature bit into him.
"Meigo," Akainu muttered, his shadowed face appearing through the rolling black smoke.
His magma arm swelled into a vicious hound with wide-open jaws, aiming to swallow both the sword and the boy whole.
The collision triggered a massive explosion, sending shockwaves and molten sparks splashing in every direction.
Even the field officers who had retreated under Tsuru's orders felt their chests tighten from the impact, while weaker soldiers stumbled backward with pale faces.
"Fall back another two hundred meters!" Sengoku's roar pierced the rumbling as a golden shockwave pushed from his palm, shielding the viewing area from stray blasts.
A fine crack spiderwebbed across his glasses as he stared at the epicenter of the clash.
'A slash of this level... is this kid a humanoid Sea King?'
Neither side moved for a breath inside the smoke.
Magma roared against howling spiritual pressure before a sharp crack echoed across the plaza as the dark-gold aura forcibly split the hound's jaws apart.
Zaraki emerged through a rain of sparks, his body burned and his torn clothes smoking.
The hand gripping Murasame was red and raw, yet his expression held nothing but twisted excitement.
Pain was the perfect fuel, making every cell in his body scream with the hunger for battle!
"The heat isn't bad," Zaraki rasped, his grin unwavering. "Just in the right temperature to wake me up!"
Akainu's pupils contracted.
His Observation Haki tracked the boy, but the rhythm was entirely unknown to him.
A spike of danger forced Akainu to compress the magma in his right arm.
"Dai Meigo!"
The attack, hot enough to melt through a steel warship, shot straight for Zaraki's face.
Zaraki didn't dodge.
The air warped behind him as his vast spiritual pressure condensed into the vague phantom of a ferocious skull.
It was unstable and lasted only a fraction of a second, but that was enough.
"Get the hell..." He stepped straight into the strike. "...out of my way!"
Discarding fancy techniques for a savage charge, Armament Haki wrapped around Murasame to merge with his Reiatsu into a black stream of light.
A muffled impact rang out.
Under the horrified gazes of the Marines, Zaraki's blade pierced the outer layer of the magma fist, forcing the Admiral to take a half-step back.
It was only half a step, but it plunged the plaza into stunned silence.
A Marine Admiral had yielded ground in a direct clash against a sixteen-year-old trainee who had just returned half-dead from the sky.
Akainu's magma surged to swallow the blade.
The terrifying heat crawled up Murasame to burn Zaraki's palm and forearm, reopening scabs across his shoulders and sending fresh blood dripping onto the cracked stone.
His breathing turned ragged, but his grin only widened.
Akainu's face darkened into a mask of pure wrath.
Being forced back—even half a step, even without using his full power—was a profound humiliation.
"Brat..." His voice ground out like crushed rocks as the ground beneath him melted into a churning pool.
"You have completely..." Both of his arms transformed into enormous molten hounds. "...angered me."
Countless enormous magma fists formed overhead, draining the color from Sengoku's face.
"Sakazuki!" Golden light erupted from the Fleet Admiral, sending a massive shockwave slamming into the space between the combatants just as Kizaru materialized in the sky.
The yellow-suited Admiral swept his long leg in a lazy arc.
"Yasakani no Magatama."
A barrage of light bullets struck the magma meteors from the side, detonating them prematurely in a chain of blinding explosions that dyed the sky red and gold.
Hot fragments rained down, but Tsuru's evacuation orders and Sengoku's shockwave spared the crowd.
When the dust settled, Sengoku stood between the two monsters, his face dark enough to drip ink.
"Sakazuki," he said, his voice carrying a dead, terrifying calm that made even the Vice Admirals straighten their backs.
"I said one exchange."
Akainu's magma boiled, his eyes locked on Zaraki with surging malice.
"That brat—"
"I said," Sengoku interrupted, golden light pulsing from his frame, "one exchange."
For several agonizing seconds, Akainu said nothing before the magma slowly receded from his arms.
His red suit was scorched and torn where Murasame had pierced his defense, and a thin line of blood trickled from his forearm before the residual heat dried it.
It was a minor scratch, but it was real.
Zaraki stood on the opposite side, his chest heaving.
The skin on his palm was blistered, and fresh blood dripped steadily from reopened cuts across his torso.
Murasame trembled in his grip—not from fear, but from the sheer strain of clashing head-on with an Admiral's magma.
"So this is an Admiral strength," Zaraki said, inspecting his burned hand before smirking up at Akainu. "Not bad."
Akainu's gaze turned glacial. "Not bad?"
His anger was gone, replaced by killing intent compressed into solid iron.
"If Sengoku had not intervened, you would be turn to ash right now!"
Zaraki barked a laugh. "Then next time, make sure nobody stops you."
"Sakazuki! Zaraki!" Sengoku's roar crashed like thunder as the temperature threatened to spike again.
Standing nearby with both Oto and Kogarashi tucked under his arms, Garp burst into booming laughter.
"Bwahahahaha! See that, Sengoku?! That's the spirit! He forced Sakazuki back half a step while running on fumes! If this kid can't make the Candidate track, your standards are rotten!"
Sengoku lacked the energy to yell at his old friend.
He stared at the ruined boy, his heart heavy with shock.
A sixteen-year-old, exhausted and bleeding from battles in the sky, had just forced a Marine Admiral to acknowledge him.
The word 'genius' no longer applied to him, he was a monster born for violence.
Kizaru lowered his leg and adjusted his shades. "How scary~ If he had arrived fresh, that exchange might have been much more troublesome."
Tsuru analyzed Zaraki's blistered hand and Akainu's torn sleeve.
"Medical team, treat Zaraki immediately," she ordered, her voice brooking no argument. "Inspect Admiral Sakazuki's injury as well."
"I don't need treatment," Akainu scoffed.
"You don't get to decide that," Tsuru replied flatly, silencing the magma user.
Ignoring the medics, Zaraki casually raised Murasame and pointed the tip at Akainu.
"The warm-up was decent."
Tiny stones began to float around him in defiance of gravity.
Sengoku's eyebrow twitched. "Warm-up?"
Zaraki grinned. "Yeah. The real fight starts whenever Red Dog is ready."
Sengoku's fist descended like a golden hammer.
Boom!
Zaraki was punched straight into the crater!
"THE REAL FIGHT IS CANCELLED, YOU BATTLE-CRAZED BRAT!"
Garp froze before his laughter shook the entirety of Marineford.
Akainu turned away with a scoff, but his final glance over his shoulder had fundamentally shifted.
The disdain and hostility remained, but beneath them lay a grudging recognition of strength.
Sengoku rubbed his temples as his migraine spiked to new heights.
"From this moment onward," the Fleet Admiral ground out, "Zaraki is confined to the medical ward until further notice."
Zaraki's head popped out of the rubble. "Does the medical ward serve meat?"
Sengoku's fist clenched again while Tsuru sighed, Kizaru looked the other way, and Garp howled with laughter.