The Float-Float Fruit's Greatest Counter Is Me

Rektol's palm pressed down another half an inch.

The air let out a muffled groan under unbearable strain.

Shiki felt as if a mountain of pig iron had crashed down onto his shoulders.

The dozens of enormous earth islands overhead suddenly stopped.

The yellow-brown sludge no longer dripped downward. The roots suspended in midair stretched taut, releasing a series of crisp snaps as their fibers broke.

The heart in Rektol's right chest chamber suddenly thudded.

The two hundred million volts of electricity did not discharge outward. Instead, it all poured into the gravitational field of his second heart. The two Devil Fruits fused perfectly.

Tenfold, hundredfold gravity fields thundered upward in reverse, centered on the throne.

"Crack."

The lowest earth island let out a sharp snap.

The enormous rock layer split down the middle. No rubble fell.

The entire island was squeezed inward in midair by an invisible gravitational field.

Like an invisible iron hand tightly clutching a handful of dry earth.

"Boom!"

Dozens of islands exploded one after another, transforming into a sky full of yellow-brown dust.

The dust blotted out the sky. Dragged brutally by gravity, it crashed toward the sea outside the great hall like a waterfall of mud and rocks.

The seawater burst into vast, muddy waves. The pirates on the breakwater fled with their heads covered, swallowing a mouthful of yellow mud.

Shiki's body, suspended in midair, suddenly sank.

His vaunted aerial mobility had become a complete joke.

The Float-Float Fruit's buoyancy was no better than a thin layer of tissue paper beneath this unreasonable crushing gravity.

"Pwah—"

Shiki opened his mouth and spat out a large mouthful of blood.

Before the blood could disperse in midair, the gravitational field forcibly slammed it back against his chest. Red plasma smeared across his face.

He looked like a green-headed fly whose wings had been snapped off by a flyswatter.

He crashed straight into the ground.

"Clang!"

The black iron floor let out a deafening boom.

Shiki slammed heavily into the Wapometal. The thick iron plate caved in with a shallow human-shaped dent.

The right side of his face was pressed hard against the cold iron plate.

The centipede-like scar that had already scabbed over instantly split open. Blood seeped outward along the grooves in the plate, leaving behind a pool of dark-red stains.

The cartilage in his nose broke. A stabbing ache shot straight into his skull as tears mixed with blood and flowed down.

He tried to push himself up with both arms.

His arms felt as if they had been filled with lead. His biceps trembled violently, while the blue veins beneath his skin bulged as if they were about to burst.

He could not get up.

Forget flying into the sky—even moving a single finger now sent needle-like pain through the gaps between his bones.

Rektol rose from the throne.

He brushed a speck of dust from the hem of his black coat.

His military boots stepped onto the iron stairs, producing a crisp tap, tap.

With every step, the pressure on Shiki's back grew heavier.

The great hall was silent. Only the white noise of waves striking the steel walls outside could be heard.

Katakuri stood beside the throne. He looked at the Golden Lion sprawled on the floor like a pile of sludge, and the veins on the back of his hand throbbed twice.

Rektol walked over to Shiki.

He stopped and lowered his head.

He raised his right foot.

The mud-stained sole of his military boot showed no mercy as it stepped onto the spine in Shiki's back.

He pressed down and ground it twice.

"Creak."

Shiki's spine let out a dangerous grinding sound, as if it could snap in two at any moment.

"You said just now that you were going to take over this sea?" Rektol's voice was cold and hard.

He bent down and casually rested his elbow on his knee.

"You wanted my warships, too?"

Shiki clenched his teeth, a guttural growl rising from his throat like a beast driven into a corner.

He desperately raised his head. His left cheek remained pressed to the iron plate, while his bloodshot right eye stared at the three-year-old brat above him.

"Y-you... what the hell did you do...?" Shiki's voice was hoarse, air leaking through his mouth.

"Nothing much." Rektol's tone was calm.

"I just happened to eat a Float-Float Fruit while I was at God Valley."

Shiki's breathing abruptly stopped.

His eyes bulged violently. Blood vessels instantly spread across the whites, and the corner of his eye split open into a bloody gash.

The Float-Float Fruit.

The divine Devil Fruit he had searched for over half a year had not only been snatched up and eaten by this brat—it had also fused with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit to create this absurdly monstrous gravity field.

"Your ability makes anything you touch lose its gravity and float."

Rektol applied a little more force with his foot.

Shiki grunted. A rib on his left side snapped, stabbing painfully into his lung.

"And I just happen to be able to double the gravity and smash it down on your head."

Rektol tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing two rows of stark-white teeth.

"The second Devil Fruit I obtained is your absolute counter."

"Times have changed, old fool." He straightened. "Take your ridiculous rules from the old era and crawl back into the sewers."

Humiliation.

Unprecedented humiliation burned through Shiki's veins like poisonous fire.

Rocks was dead, and Roger had fled. He should have been the most dazzling king on this sea.

Yet now he was being trampled beneath the foot of a brat who had not even grown all his hair, his face pressed to the ground like a dead dog.

"I... am the Golden Lion!"

A shrill roar burst from Shiki's throat.

He opened his mouth wide, and his upper and lower rows of teeth slammed together.

"Crack."

Two back teeth were crushed by force. Shattered bone mixed with the blood filling his mouth.

The taste of rust burst through his nasal passages.

He gave up resisting the pressure of the gravitational field. He let the heavy force squeeze tiny cracks into his organs while he vomited blood in great mouthfuls.

He poured all the blood and energy remaining in his body into both arms.

His muscle fibers snapped one by one beneath the immense load. Blood sprayed from his pores, staining the yellow-and-black kimono sleeves red.

"Crack!"

The ulnae in both arms released a crisp snapping sound.

They had broken. White bone fragments pierced through his skin.

Yet driven by this self-destructive madness, he forcibly reached both hands backward to his waist.

His thumbs flipped open the brass guards of the swords.

His blood-covered hands gripped the hilts of the famous swords Oto and Kogarashi with all their might.

"Die!"

With both arms covered in bloody pulp, Shiki forcibly swung his twin swords within the hundredfold gravity field.

Golden sword energy pounced forth like a maddened lion.

The violent sword pressure sliced through the Wapometal floor, sending dazzling sparks flying across the sky.

Lion's Might: Ground Roll.

A golden net of sword energy blanketed the heavens, carrying an edge sharp enough to sever everything as it twisted toward Rektol's face.

The cold smile vanished from Rektol's face.

He withdrew his right foot from Shiki's back and stepped half a pace backward.

His left hand reached to the side.

He drew a standard-issue Marine saber from the weapon rack beside the throne.

The blade had only just left its sheath.

Blue-white, raging lightning instantly coiled around the blade. Rust flaked away layer by layer beneath the intense heat.