The Last Door
Lin Yuan's right hand was trembling. Dark light continued to spread outward from his palm, covering the space within three steps around Imu. The boundary of that area was clearly visible, like a thin line suspended in mid-air. It was colorless, but its location could be distinguished with the naked eye.
He maintained the "Space Definition" posture. His arm was no longer as stable as before; his knuckles were slightly white, and the veins on the edges of his palms bulged under the skin, extending along his forearm to his elbow. Each breath was longer, but the inhalation was shallower than before, and the exhalation was shorter. Rocks' fist hovered on the boundary surface, the edge of the Armament Haki covering his fist worn down with continuous contact, like the edge of metal rubbed by sand and gravel.
"The definition is weakening." Rocks didn't retract his fist. "How much longer can you hold on?"
"Hold on until you finish." Lin Yuan's voice was a little lower than before, but still clear. "He's consuming my definition. For every breath I maintain my definition, he needs to consume a breath of Spatial Will to resist. He's consuming it too. We're both holding out, seeing who gives up first."
Whitebeard's Naginata slashed horizontally from the left. The white light from the Tremor-Tremor Fruit on the blade compressed into a thin line the instant it touched the boundary, cutting along the surface without penetrating it. However, continuous ripples appeared on the boundary surface after the blade passed by. Imu's right hand shifted slightly as the ripples passed by, and his left hand rose at the same moment, stopping halfway as if blocked in mid-air by some force.
Kaido's dragon claw slammed in from the right, its tip piercing the boundary before stopping about two steps away from Imu. Imu's body tilted about five degrees to the right after the claw entered the boundary, his right hand still pointing towards Rocks, but there was a gap of about half a breath during the tilt. Rocks' fist passed through that gap, the fist advancing from in front of Imu to about a palm's width from his face, stopping at the last barrier. Cracks appeared on the surface of the barrier, spreading outwards from the center in a spiderweb pattern, the cracks at the edges extending to Imu's shoulder.
"His barrier is about to shatter." Kaido's dragon claw didn't retract. "The next punch will pierce through it."
Rocks' fist hovered about a hand's width in front of Imu, neither retracting nor advancing further. The crack on Imu's right hand was slowly spreading, from the knuckles to the wrist, from the wrist to the forearm. The crack's path changed at the elbow, continuing downwards along the muscle lines on the outside of the forearm, circling the joint at the elbow, and continuing downwards to the wrist, finally stopping at his fingertips. The crack at his fingertips trembled slightly but did not spread further.
As the crack spread to his fingertips, Imu's body began to lean forward—not by much, about five degrees. His right hand hung limply at his side after the body tilted, unable to maintain its original defensive stance. His left hand remained suspended in mid-air, his fingertips slightly curled, unable to fully close or fully open. His breathing became heavier, each inhalation longer than the last, but the depth of his breaths continued to decrease, as if his lungs could no longer fully expand.
"Your body is on a countdown," Lin Yuan said. "I can see the changes in you. Roger's sword is stuck in your body, and so is mine. Your recovery speed decreases by one level every fifteen minutes, and your Spatial Will is weakening. Continuing to fight will only lead to the same result; you no longer have enough stamina and Spatial Will to maintain your defensive stance."
Imu did not answer. His left hand finally lowered, pausing twice during the process. The first pause was at shoulder height for about a breath, and the second pause was at waist height for about two breaths, before it fell completely to his side. His body lost the ability to maintain an upright posture, first bending backward, and then his center of gravity completely leaving the ground.
He collapsed.
But he didn't lie flat. As his body leaned back, his hands braced against the ground behind him, the point of contact providing support just before his back hit the ground, stopping his fall. His arms trembled noticeably as he braced himself, the trembling intensifying with each breath. He lifted his gaze from the ground and fixed it on Lin Yuan.
"Your definition... is still in effect. You haven't backed down yet."
Lin Yuan's right hand remained open, palm facing Imu. "Because you're still on the ground. You're not dead yet."
"Are you still waiting for me to die?"
"I'm waiting for you to stop breathing."
Imu's elbows began to bend, his body rising from the ground, from a backward leaning position to a semi-sitting position, his hands on the ground, elbows bent at approximately 120 degrees, his back about a hand's width off the ground. His body swayed continuously as he rose, his torso like a mast losing its balance, each sway greater than the last. His breathing grew heavier, each inhale lifting his shoulders higher than the last, but the height of the lift decreased with each breath. His fingers began to slide across the ground, the angle of his knuckles changing, from straight to half-clenched, then flat, finally pressing his fingertips forward onto the ground, unable to exert any more force.
Lin Yuan took a step forward. His right hand lowered as he stepped, and the boundary he defined vanished the instant his right hand was lowered, leaving no trace, as if it had never existed. He walked to Imu, bent down, and reached out to grasp Roger's sword. The hilt still retained the warmth of Conqueror's Haki —not his own power, but Roger's residual warmth; the heat could still be felt on the hilt, a few degrees higher than the surrounding air. He pulled Roger's sword out, the blade leaving a trail of dark blood as it severed from Imu's left chest and abdomen. The blood flowed from the wound, running along the blade to the guard, then dripped onto the ground, forming a small, deep red spot on the tiles.
He gripped his sword again. The thread binding the hilt was soaked with blood, and his fingers could feel the dampness and roughness when he touched it. He drew his sword, leaving a second streak of blood as the blade left Imu's left shoulder, thinner but darker than the first. He sheathed his own sword, then held Roger's sword horizontally in front of him, glancing at the inscription on the blade.
The inscription was carved near the handguard, the characters clear and the edges smooth, as if it had been carved by some fine tool, not by a knife, but more like an imprint. The content of the inscription was written in Ancient Script, but Lin Yuan could recognize the last two characters—those two characters were the same as the ending he saw on the stone tablet in the Final Island, and were Joy Boy's signature.
"... Joy Boy."
He sheathed Roger's sword and took a step back.
Imu's body remained in a half-sitting position. His hands were on the ground, his back about a hand's width off the ground, but the support was weakening, and each breath diminished his posture. His eyes were closed, not in death, but like a window closing naturally, shutting down before his breathing stopped. After maintaining this position for several breaths, his body finally fell backward from the half-sitting position, landing on his back. His hands slid off the ground and hung at his sides, palms up, fingers slightly curled.
The room fell silent. The cracks in the walls Room of Authority, now devoid of Imu's spatial support, were spreading rapidly, extending from the base of the walls to the top, like the cracks appearing on a frozen lake before it melts. The cracks spread along the walls to the ceiling, converging in the center to form a fissure spanning the entire ceiling surface. Gravel from the edges of the fissure began to slide down, landing on the floor with a dull thud.
Whitebeard sheathed his Naginata from above Imu's body, the white light on the blade fading. Kaido retracted his beast form; the dragon scales had fallen away, revealing the skin beneath. Blood was still seeping from the wounds on his shoulder and side, but his feet remained firmly planted on the ground. Rocks stood two steps in front of Imu, his right fist lowered, Armament Haki receding from his knuckles. His breathing became heavier, but it didn't affect his stance. Golden Lion descended from the sky to the ground, the Gravity Field completely dissipating. The remaining fragments of Big Mom's Homies Army's souls slowly dissipated behind her.
Lin Yuan stood beside Imu's body, his two swords sheathed. One belonged to Roger, stuck in the left sheath, and the other was his own, stuck in the right. He stood there for a moment, then said, "It's over."
The cracks in the walls are widening. The structure of Room of Authority is losing its support, and from the moment Imu died, the entire building entered its final stage of collapse. The sounds of breaking come from different directions, as if everyone who has walked through this building is taking their final journey.
Lin Yuan turned and walked towards the door. Whitebeard followed behind him, his Naginata slung over his shoulder, a step behind. Kaido, Rocks, Golden Lion, and Big Mom followed in that order. As they exited the Room of Authority, the ceiling was collapsing.
A new crack appeared in the outer wall of Mary Geoise in the distance. The Allied Forces were advancing inward, and the rule of the World Government officially ended from this moment on.
(End of Chapter 120)