Summit War 3

Kizaru leaned against a stone pillar beneath the Execution Platform, still in that lazy posture, but behind his sunglasses, his eyes had long lost their former nonchalance.

His Observation Haki spread outwards from the Execution Platform like an invisible spider web, leaving no inch of air or shadow untouched.

He knew what he needed to keep an eye on.

This has happened twice.

That brat disappeared twice right under his nose.

He doesn't intend to let him disappear a third time.

The Whitebeard stood at the head of the bay and slowly raised his right hand.

His five fingers were spread out, the knuckles rough like the roots of an old tree, and the veins throbbed faintly under his skin.

The air vibrated in his palm, initially just a barely perceptible buzzing, but then the buzzing became sharper and more piercing, as if the entire sky was being squeezed, twisted, and crushed between his fingers.

Then he punched the air.

The atmosphere shattered like glass under his fist. Cracks spread wildly in all directions from his fist, distorting and deforming the space itself wherever they passed.

The Tremor-Tremor Fruit's power is not fire, not ice, not magma—it destroys the physical laws governing the existence of matter at its very source.

The Tekkai honed by the naval elites over half a lifetime were rendered as fragile as paper by the shockwave. Shields shattered, spears broke, and the stone slabs within a radius of hundreds of meters beneath the feet of the front-ranking officers were completely lifted up, along with the hundreds of marines standing on them, and thrown into the air.

The supposedly strongest Iron Wall of defense in Marineford was torn apart by Whitebeard's punch, leaving a gaping hole hundreds of meters long.

Gravel and severed limbs fell to the ground together. Before the screams could even be heard, Whitebeard had already taken a step.

Each step he took landed on the aftershocks of the shockwave. Conqueror's Haki exploded from his body, and crimson Inazuma, like countless raging pythons, burst forth from his body, tearing apart the leaden clouds above and dyeing the entire sky an eerie blood red.

That Inazuma was not a creation of nature—it was the pure, solidified will of a king, the embodiment of the overwhelming pressure released without reservation by the man standing at the highest point of this sea.

Where the Inazuma struck, swarms of marines were swept away as if by an invisible scythe; their pupils constricted, white foam appeared at their mouths, and they fell straight down before they could even scream.

Although the soldiers in the back row barely withstood the impact of the Conqueror's Haki, their hands gripping their weapons began to tremble, and some even subconsciously took a half step back.

From the bay to the plaza, the entire naval defense line was rendered useless the moment Whitebeard took his third step.

On the command seat, Sengoku's pupils suddenly contracted.

He had served Fleet Admiral for most of his life, and had witnessed Haki Haki Haki of Roger, Golden Lion, and the young Whitebeard —but those were all decades ago.

He thought the Whitebeard was old and that he would never be able to exert that level of pressure again.

He was wrong.

"King-Class..." Crane's voice sounded behind him, and for the first time in his life, his tone, which had been calm for half his life, trembled slightly.

Akainu didn't wait for Whitebeard to step into the plaza.

Sakazuki's military boots left a charred footprint on the stone pavement, and he transformed into a dark red afterimage, crashing head-on into the scarlet Inazuma.

The magma-like right fist, carrying terrifyingly high temperatures capable of instantly vaporizing steel, clashed fiercely with Whitebeard's fist, which was enveloped in shockwaves, in mid-air.

Boom--!!!

The impact of the magma and shockwave blasts sent the few remaining gunboats on either side of the bay flying into the air. Their steel hulls disintegrated in mid-air, and parts and armor fragments rained down on the plaza.

The stone slabs beneath their feet cracked simultaneously, the cracks extending from their feet to the center of the square. Along the way, the fortress walls were riddled with countless tiny fissures, and brick fragments rained down.

Akainu's brow furrowed sharply in that instant.

His fist was still pressed against Whitebeard's fist, magma and shockwaves were tearing wildly between their fingers, and the high temperature scorched and distorted the air.

But he could sense that the power coming from the other side was not the kind of power a seventy-year-old man covered in injuries should possess.

The force was powerful, sustained, and inexhaustible; each wave of vibration caused the muscles in his arm to tremble slightly.

This is not an old man on his last legs; this is a monster in the prime of his life.

"You..." Akainu teeth, his tone more of astonishment than anger.

Whitebeard didn't give him a chance to speak.

Murakumogiri twirled halfway in his other hand, the blade, still carrying the aftershocks of the shockwave, sweeping across. Akainu dodged to the side, the blade grazing his Justice Coat, tearing a corner of the hem, the fragments swirling and flying through the air.

He took a half step back to regain his balance, and with a series of swift movements, more than a dozen magma projectiles rained down on the Whitebeard like a storm.

The Whitebeard laughed loudly, punching the air repeatedly. Each punch shattered a piece of magma bomb, and the exploding sparks were as dazzling as fireworks in mid-air.

Aokiji moved almost at the same moment Akainu threw his punch, below the Execution Platform.

He lightly stomped his right foot on the ground, and frost spread along the stone slab as he slid across the ice toward the bay.

He had to plug the gap before Whitebeard completely breached the defenses, otherwise the 100,000 marines in the plaza would be nothing more than 100,000 targets in front of that man.

The moment the ice wings condensed behind him, a blue flame sliced across from his side.

Aokiji dodged to the side, his ice wings grazed by the flames, melting a small patch at the edge, and the icy water droplets that fell into the air were then re-frozen by him.

He turned his head, Marco hovered not far to his side, his arms forming blue wings that were slowly flapping, with the Phoenix burning quietly at the edges of the wings.

"Excuse me, Marco." Aokiji's voice was still in that lazy tone, but there was no hint of yielding in his words.

"That won't do." Marco smiled, the flames of the Phoenix leaping twice on his shoulder. "Pops finally has a chance to let loose. If I let you go and spoil his fun, he'll scold me for days."

Aokiji didn't say anything more.

He raised his hand, and the ice spear instantly condensed in his palm. The surrounding temperature plummeted, and even the volcanic ash floating in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals in mid-air.

As the ice spear flew from his hand, he vanished from his spot, appearing behind Marco in the next instant, wielding an ice blade in each hand, and precisely slashing towards Marco's wing joints.