A battle with Rayleigh

The python naginata that had made her famous nearly flew from her grasp, while her massive, nearly three-meter-tall body was flung away by that force like a kite with its string cut.

"What-!"

She tumbled through the air, barely managed to right herself, and landed with a crash.

Her feet plowed two long furrows through the solid ground, sending stones and dirt flying to either side.

She drove the shaft of her naginata into the ground and slid another dozen meters before finally stopping.

"Huff... huff..."

She knelt on one knee, gasping for breath. Blood streamed from the webbing of her hands, and her arms were still trembling slightly.

She raised her head and looked at the White Hair boy, who was still standing where he had been, her eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

How was that possible...?

That boy hadn't even used Haki.

Pure strength... using nothing but physical strength, he had flung her, a Kuja captain who had roamed the Grand Line for years, away like a little chick.

The surrounding Kuja crew members gaped as they watched their captain get flung away like a rag doll by White Hair. It took them a full two or three seconds to recover.

"Captain-!"

"Kill that bastard!"

Furious shouts rose one after another.

Several of the quickest female warriors immediately drew their bows. Arrows coated in Armament Haki shot from their snake bows, tearing through the air like venomous snakes leaving their dens, aimed straight at Saint Dio's vital points.

Saint Dio did not even shift his gaze.

He tilted his head slightly, letting one arrow fly past his ear; leaned back gently, letting another skim his nose; and adjusted his footing a fraction, causing the third and fourth arrows to miss in turn and bury themselves in the ground behind him, their shafts humming.

The entire sequence flowed seamlessly. He did not even break the rhythm of his advancing steps.

Several Kuja crew members skilled in close combat seized the chance to attack from the side, their fists and feet wrapped in Haki as they struck at his ribs and the back of his neck.

Saint Dio did not stop walking. He simply turned with the motion and delivered a spinning side kick straight into the leading warrior's abdomen.

The sturdily built warrior doubled over as though struck by a battering ram and flew backward, knocking down two companions behind her. All three tumbled into a heap and lay on the ground, unable to get up again.

Saint Dio did not pursue them. He had never struck to kill.

These Kuja crew members would all become his subordinates, his pawns, in the future. Killing them now would be far too wasteful.

But Saint Dio had to eliminate the Kuja captain before him, the obstacle standing in the way of his plans.

Only with her death could the future Boa Hancock smoothly ascend the throne of the Kuja Empress, and only then could he truly control Amazon Lily through Hancock.

He raised Jörmungandr, pointing its tip straight at the massive figure still struggling for breath.

The Kuja captain raised her head and met those indifferent eyes.

The shock in her gaze was gradually fading, replaced by the madness and resolve unique to a beast driven to the brink.

A trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth, but she did not wipe it away. She simply stared fixedly at Saint Dio, as though trying to carve his face into the depths of her soul so she would remember this enemy even in the next world.

Saint Dio said nothing more.

He tightened his grip on the hilt, preparing to deliver the finishing stroke.

But just before he could swing, he abruptly stopped.

He whipped his head around, his gaze shooting toward a spot at the end of the street.

An invisible pressure surged from his body like a tide.

Boom-!

Conqueror's Haki.

That power of will, possessed only by those with the qualities of a king and capable of cowing entire armies, swept outward in every direction with Saint Dio at its center.

The surrounding Kuja crew members felt a chill shoot from the soles of their feet to the crowns of their heads. It was as though an invisible hand had seized their hearts. Their legs weakened, breathing became difficult, and several of the weaker ones rolled their eyes back and fainted outright.

But this Conqueror's Haki was not directed at them.

Saint Dio's Conqueror's Haki surged forward like an invisible tidal wave.

Then it slammed straight into an equally indestructible invisible wall.

Rumble-!

The two forces of Conqueror's Haki collided violently in midair.

A dense barrage of cracks erupted in the air where they met. Black lightning writhed like a swarm of snakes, snapping and flickering around the point of collision, tearing through the air and plowing fine cracks into the ground.

Under the invisible shock waves, the outer walls of the buildings lining the street cracked and peeled away, sending rubble raining down.

The ground trembled, as though even the earth were groaning at the clash between these two kingly wills.

The Marine soldiers who had just arrived were caught in the terrifying collision of Conqueror's Haki before they could even draw their weapons and shout, "Don't move!"

The dozen or so soldiers at the front rolled their eyes back, foamed at the mouth, and collapsed unconscious.

Those behind them fared little better. Their faces went deathly pale, their legs shook, and even remaining upright became difficult.

Saint Dio narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze piercing the curtain of interwoven black lightning and locking onto the direction from which that Conqueror's Haki had come.

This Conqueror's Haki... whose was it?

At this point in time, someone with Conqueror's Haki of this caliber was still hiding in the Sabaody Archipelago?

Then it could only be...

Chapter 10: A battle with Rayleigh

"Sigh... I never thought these old bones would have to come out of retirement."

An aged, steady voice drifted slowly from the shadows at the end of the street.

The footsteps were unhurried, as though their owner were merely passing by on an afternoon stroll.

A figure emerged from the darkness.

He was an old man whose hair had turned entirely white, his frame lean but not stooped, dressed in a plain shirt and shorts.

In his right hand, he held a slender sword. In his left was a mask, which he casually held over the lower half of his face, apparently unwilling to let anyone recognize him.

But the instant Saint Dio saw him, his pupils contracted slightly.

That sword. That figure.

And that power of will, capable of meeting his Conqueror's Haki head-on here in the Sabaody Archipelago.

In the entire pirate world, only one man fit all those conditions.

Dark King Rayleigh.

Pirate King Roger's right-hand man, a legendary figure living in seclusion as a coating craftsman in the Sabaody Archipelago.

In a rare display, the corners of Saint Dio's mouth curved upward.

It was a genuine smile, filled with excitement and fighting spirit.

He had never shown such an expression since coming to this world.

He paid no further attention to the Kuja captain kneeling on the ground. She had gone from prey to an irrelevant bystander.

Saint Dio turned to face the White Hair old man squarely, tightened his grip on Jörmungandr, and advanced one step at a time.

As Rayleigh watched the young figure in white approach, a trace of complicated feeling flashed through eyes deepened by the years.

"Young people these days... one monster after another."

His voice carried a measure of self-mockery and ruefulness, but his hands did not hesitate in the slightest.

He held his slender sword across his body, its point angled toward the ground, assuming an opening stance that looked casual but left no openings.

He did not ask where his opponent had come from or who he was.

For a swordsman, when another swordsman approached with the will to fight, the only thing to do was answer with his sword.

With a little over ten meters still separating him from Rayleigh, Saint Dio suddenly stamped down.

Bang-!

The ground beneath his foot cracked and caved in. His figure became a white afterimage, crossing the distance in an instant.

Jörmungandr traced a vicious arc through the air, shrieking as it sliced straight toward Rayleigh's neck.

Clang-!

The two swords collided with a clear ring of metal, sparks bursting from where their edges met.

Saint Dio's sword carried the weight of a mountain, its force forged through years of gravity training with Jörmungandr.

But Rayleigh's sword was as steady as a rock. His seemingly withered wrist did not budge as he firmly blocked the blow.

The two remained locked together for an instant.

A flicker of approval passed through Rayleigh's eyes. Then he turned his wrist and nudged his blade at an exceedingly tricky angle.

With a technique that used a tiny force to redirect a much greater one, he deflected Saint Dio's sword and swept his entire body aside.

The instant he was deflected, Saint Dio twisted in midair and used the motion to unleash a fierce sword wave. The crescent-shaped slash flew free of his blade and whistled along the ground, cutting cleanly through it and spraying stones to either side.

Rayleigh remained where he stood without moving his feet. He merely turned his wrist and swung his sword with effortless ease.

With a muffled bang, he precisely shattered the sword wave capable of splitting rock, dispersing it into currents of air.

"A fine sword strike," Rayleigh remarked. "But it still needs work."

As though offering the young challenger a demonstration, Rayleigh lightly turned his wrist and casually swung his sword.

An extremely condensed sword wave left his blade, silent yet bearing an edge that could cut through anything, and shot straight toward Saint Dio's face.

Saint Dio's pupils contracted slightly. Rather than retreating, he advanced, gripping Jörmungandr with both hands and pouring all his strength into a single stroke as he slashed down to meet it.

Clang-!

He forcibly split the sword wave apart. It became two escaping currents that swept past either side of him and left two narrow, unfathomably deep cracks in the ground behind him.

But the instant he shattered the sword wave, Rayleigh had already closed in like a ghost.

"Well done, lad."

The old man's voice sounded at close range as his slender sword darted toward Saint Dio's throat like a venomous snake.

Saint Dio turned sideways to evade it and swept his sword across in a backhand slash. Rayleigh leaned back, letting the blade skim past the tip of his nose.

The distance between them instantly narrowed to a single arm's length. Sword light crisscrossed, and the clash of metal burst through the street like a rapid drumbeat.

Cling, clang, clang-!!

Their figures crossed at blinding speed in the center of the street, every collision sending dazzling sparks flying.

The ground beneath them was ravaged by the scattered sword waves. Deep cracks spread outward like a spiderweb, and stones flew in all directions through the turbulent air.

After another violent collision, Saint Dio used the recoil to leap backward, putting some distance between them.

He stared at the composed White Hair old man opposite him. Far from fading, the fighting spirit in his eyes burned even hotter.

Not enough.

Still not enough.

Attacks like these could never wound the legendary Dark King.

Saint Dio took a deep breath and changed his grip.

He held Jörmungandr across his side, its blade behind his right shoulder, his whole body like a taut bowstring.

His right hand clamped tightly around the hilt, veins bulging along his arm like winding rivers.

Then he began drawing on Jörmungandr's power.

Heavier.

Heavier.

Heavier still.

Driven by Saint Dio's will, the blade's weight rose rapidly.