When Garp raised his left hand, no one saw how he did it.
Kaido's spiked club, Hassaikai, swept down from above in a crescent arc, carrying enough monstrous strength to level a mountaintop.
No more than five people in the entire New World could have met the speed, angle, and power of that blow head-on.
But Garp merely swept his left forearm outward. Armament Haki condensed into a red film of light over his skin, and when the club struck it, all its force was deflected, absorbed, and dispersed.
A deafening metallic clash erupted over the ice. Through the handle gripped in both hands, Kaido felt a response unlike anything he had ever experienced.
It was as though something had swallowed his strength, and that devouring sensation dragged his center of gravity half an inch forward with it.
At the same instant, Garp's right hand reached up from below. His fingers clamped around the club's head, his knuckles wedging between the metal spikes.
Red Armament Haki burst between his fingers. That club, forged by a master smith of Wano Country and tempered in the blood of countless enemies, looked in his hand like a wooden stick snatched from a child.
He pulled it toward his chest. The movement was small, but the force lifted Kaido's entire Dragon-Man Body, over seven meters tall, off the ground.
Kaido's feet left the ice. His dragon tail lashed futilely across it, leaving a crack, and for the first time, disbelief appeared in his slit pupils.
"Kaido, you brat." Garp's face emerged on the other side of the club. On that face, restored to its prime by the Abyss Contract, the corners of his mouth spread upward. "How are you still as weak as you were back then?!"
His right fist clenched.
The Armament Haki