"Because I've already failed enough in my life."
Shiki's voice was calm, without anger or agitation, only a detached acceptance of everything.
"This last fight is the one I don't want to lose to anyone."
Especially—I don't want to lose to myself.
"Join Hachinosu, and I'll be your transport captain?"
Was that something the Golden Lion did?
Is that something someone who's considered one of the three legendary pirates alongside Roger and Whitebeard should do?
"I'd rather die standing on the battlefield than live on my knees in this new era."
Roy remained silent for a long time.
He thought of Katakuri, who had been recruited by Kaido, and of the various forces, large and small, that had obediently submitted when the army from Hachinosu pressed in.
They were all people from the old era.
But they chose to survive, and chose to find a place in the new order.
The Golden Lion can also be chosen this way.
With his abilities, he could definitely live a very comfortable life on Hachinosu.
But he deliberately didn't choose it.
He once stood at the very top, and he once challenged the likes of Roger and Whitebeard.
That kind of pride is something those insignificant people who depend on the strong for survival can never understand.
"Then I have no choice but to let you die." Roy slowly tightened his grip on Shusui.
Fine, black and red arcs of electricity began to appear around his body—a form resulting from the high fusion of Conqueror's Haki and Armament Haki.
The electric arcs became more numerous and denser, forming a visible blackish-red halo around him.
Shiki looked at the halo, his eyes filled with admiration, not fear.
"That's more like it," he said.
He then raised both swords, pointing the blades at Roy.
"Bring it on.
Let me see just how sharp the knife that can cut off the heads of the Five Elders really is.
Roy stopped wasting words.
His figure vanished from his spot and reappeared in front of Shiki the next second. Shusui raised his sword high above his head and slashed down.
Roy's strike was completely unpretentious; it was simply a pure vertical slash.
But when Shiki saw this slash, the hairs on his body stood on end.
He was all too familiar with that feeling—nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape, only to take it head-on.
He gritted his teeth, his two swords crossed above his head.
He poured Armament Haki into the sword, while desperately trying to unleash the Conqueror's Haki within his body, attempting to wrap even a trace of Conqueror's Haki Inazuma around the blade.
Oto and Kogarashi barely managed to hold up Shusui.
But that force was too great.
Shiki felt as if a mountain had crashed down on his arms, causing the old wound on his hands to reopen and gushing blood.
The air beneath his feet seemed to explode under his weight, and he was forced to plummet downwards.
Roy, wielding the knife in one hand, pressed Shiki down from mid-air to a position less than ten meters above the sea surface.
Shiki's feet were almost touching the surface of the sea, and the shockwave from their collision created a huge crater tens of meters in diameter.
"This strike is called ' Mountain Suppression '."
Roy's voice came from above.
"I created it while training on a desolate mountain on Hachinosu. There's no special technique involved, it's just power."
Shiki gritted his teeth, his arm muscles bulging to their limit, veins standing out beneath his skin.
He abruptly swerved his sword, deflecting Shusui's attack to the side, while simultaneously delivering a sweeping kick with his right leg, the Kogarashi blade on his foot slicing towards Roy's knee.
Roy's eyes flashed red as he sheathed his sword and retreated, avoiding the kick.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Shiki took off again, panting heavily.
His arms were trembling violently, and his hands, which were gripping the sword, were mostly stained with blood.
But he still grinned.
"Strong enough."
"Again!"
Roy lunged forward again.
This time, he didn't use that overwhelming, crushing strike; instead, he wielded Shusui like a torrential downpour.
Blades rained down on Shiki from every angle—upward slashes, diagonal cuts, straight thrusts, horizontal slices—each strike so fast it left afterimages.
Shiki desperately tried to block.
The two swords danced in his hands with impenetrable precision, parrying Roy's rapid attacks one by one.
But his movements were noticeably slower than before—the injury to his arm and the exhaustion were gradually slowing down his reaction time.
After another clash of blades, Roy's blade grazed Shiki's right shoulder.
The wound wasn't deep, but its location was extremely tricky—right at the point of movement of the shoulder joint.
Every movement of the arm tears the wound apart, intensifying the pain.
Shiki grunted, but did not back down.
Suddenly, the Oto in his right hand flew out of his grasp, drawing an arc in the air before slashing at Roy's neck from the side.
Roy turned his head away, and Oto flew past his ear.
But in the instant he was distracted by the flying sword, Shiki, holding Kogarashi in his left hand, thrust in from the front, the tip of the sword aimed directly at Roy's heart.
A hint of surprise flashed in Roy's eyes.
There was no time to use Shusui to block, so he could only extend his left hand, spread his five fingers, and use his Telekinesis: Barrier to block in front of his chest.
The tip of the Kogarashi sword struck the barrier with a crisp "ding".
The barrier remained completely still; the sword tip didn't even penetrate a millimeter.
Shiki's pupils contracted sharply.
"You have this trick up your sleeve?"
Before he could finish speaking, Roy's right knee was already thrusting forward.
The knee struck Shiki squarely in the abdomen, the force so great that Shiki curled up like a shrimp.
The Kogarashi flew out of his hand, and Oto disappeared without a trace.
Shiki was sent flying dozens of meters through the air, clutching his abdomen with both hands and vomiting large amounts of acidic fluid.
Roy stood still, and with a wave of his left hand, Telekinesis to pull back Oto and Kogarashi, who had been sent flying.
Two swords hovered beside him, their blades pointing downwards, slowly rotating.
"You can't even hold a sword anymore," Roy said. "Do you still want to continue?"
Shiki stood hunched over in mid-air, panting for a while, before slowly straightening up.
His face was covered in sweat, and his wrinkles glistened with moisture.
His blond hair lay disheveled on his scalp, blood began to seep from the old wound on his chest, and blood was also flowing from the new wound on his right shoulder.
He looked extremely disheveled.
But a fire still burned in his eyes.
"Of course we should continue."
Shiki grinned, blood smeared on his teeth.
"As Lao Tzu said, one should die on the front lines of the charge."
He stretched out his hand and beckoned to Roy with his finger. "Give me back my sword."
Roy was silent for a few seconds, then his fingers twitched slightly.
Oto and Kogarashi flew back to Shiki's side and hovered beside his hand.
The moment Shiki gripped the hilt, his fingers were still trembling. But he held the hilt tightly, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"I haven't felt this way in years."
Shiki looked down at the twin swords in his hands.
"Fighting even when you can't win, fighting even knowing you'll lose. That feeling of fighting with everything you have—"
He raised his head, his eyes shining even brighter than before.
"That's fucking awesome."
Roy looked at Shiki's face, which was slightly flushed with excitement, and suddenly felt a mix of emotions.
This old man wasn't unaware that he would lose.
He knew it from the beginning.
But he still wanted to fight, still wanted to fight desperately, and still wanted to squeeze out every last bit of strength before he would stop.
Because this might be the last time he risks his life.