You can't beat me.
This fighting style, this posture, this power—at their core, they were the "inheritance" of the Mythical Beast dwelling within the Devil Fruit.
That inheritance was something no other Devil Fruit type possessed.
As a Mythical Zoan user gradually refined their ability, they would steadily seize more and more of that inherited power. Their stances, movements, and instincts would slowly align with those of the Beast itself, until at last they mastered the full might of that legendary creature.
And that was why—
While the Government's scientists had made some early breakthroughs in artificially replicating ordinary Zoan fruits, a Mythical Zoan was utterly impossible to copy.
Because the will of a Mythical Beast could only exist once.
Unlike Kaido's massive, domineering, brutally savage Azure Dragon form, my Frostshadow Silver Wolf commands frost and ice as naturally as breath, and can draw strength from darkness and shadow. Its attacks perfectly embody the silver wolf's elegance and lethality—silent, unseen, and inescapable.
This should have been a power belonging to me alone.
Yet this man, just by watching, could imitate it—could evolve a fighting style of his own to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with mine…
If Saint Michael hadn't witnessed it himself, even he would have struggled to believe such a talent existed.
As one of the Celestial Dragons' most exalted scions, he had received the finest, most comprehensive education from childhood. As Commander of the Knights of God, he had long since gained access to the highest levels of intelligence and secrets in the world.
He had watched countless geniuses and monsters rise and fall.
But he had never seen a madman like Rogers Darren.
Is that talent born from pushing his body right up against its limits?
Saint Michael's eyes narrowed as he studied Darren. Frost gathered visibly in his palm, creeping up the length of his rapier until a layer of ice formed along the blade, cold enough to chill the air around it.
Now he understood why this lunatic hurled himself recklessly at powerful enemies all over the sea, endlessly chasing the thrill of battle.
It's a shame that no matter how hard you study, it will always be nothing more than a crude imitation.
Saint Michael tilted his head, his gaze level but dripping with condescension.
"Every Mythical Beast is a unique existence," he said coolly, "and does not tolerate mockery."
"I'll show you the true power of the Frostshadow Silver Wolf."
As his voice fell, he leaned forward, knees bending. The silvery-white fur covering his body began to grow again, soft and long, like pale flame rippling in the air.
The silver wolf's crimson eyes burned brighter, and a ring of black, fire-like cloud burst into existence around his arrogant neck.
Those dark, shadowy flames, contrasted against the pale fur, radiated a deep and uncanny aura.
"Oh? You've already reached Awakening…" Darren's brows rose, a grin tugging at his lips as he watched the transformation. "No wonder you dared to stay behind and fight me."
Zoan Awakening greatly amplified close-range fighting power, gifting the user with monstrous stamina and frightening regenerative ability—perfect for drawn-out battles.
Flicking the blood from his fingers, Darren snorted.
"Then let's see whether your 'immortality' is on par with the Gorosei's."
Their gazes met in the empty air between them. Sparks seemed to crackle in the invisible space where their wills collided.
Boom!
Boom!
Like two muffled thunderclaps, their feet blew open twin craters beneath them as they launched forward with feral roars.
Pale silver wolf mane crashed against jet-black demon's hide.
Churning shadows crashed into crackling Thunder Armor.
Saint Michael and Darren turned into streaks of white and black light, carving through the air and shortening the distance between them to nothing in the blink of an eye.
They closed in until they were nearly nose-to-nose.
Then they struck.
The Western sword, wrapped in frost, became a silver blur.
The thunder-crowned black iron fist fell like a meteor tearing through the sky.
Their impact detonated with a deafening boom.
"Shadow Frost Bite!"
"Thunder Fall!"
Clang!
BOOOOM!!
The cataclysmic shockwave instantly split the island's surface into a web of fractures. The ground heaved.
Along the coast, boulders and trees were ripped from their roots and hurled into the sky by the violent winds and surging shockwave.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared, a net of electric arcs weaving across the heavens.
After only a heartbeat, both men threw themselves back in, hammering each other with relentless blows.
The Western sword carved flesh and muscle, red spray blooming in the storm.
Dragon claws tore fur and skin away in bloody clumps, scattering silver-white hairs into the air.
The black and white figures blurred into streaks of light and shadow racing through a howling tempest, colliding again and again. They abandoned defense entirely, fighting like maddened beasts, baring their fangs and pouring everything into each strike.
With every clash, the earth roared in protest.
The island quaked under the barrage, and the sea boiled into waves hundreds of meters high. Their Conqueror's Haki slammed into each other, casting the world into a suffocating darkness.
Swoosh!
Swoosh!
Two sprays of blood mist flared in mid-air as both fighters were thrown back, dragged across the ground in long, ragged trenches.
But the next instant,
Saint Michael and Darren simultaneously forced their battered bodies to move.
The former opened his jaws, lined with serried fangs, and fired a beam of pure white cold.
The latter snapped his fingers, flicking a coin into the air. Magnetic force roared to life as an orange-red electromagnetic blast exploded forth.
"Frost Breath!"
"Super Electromagnetic Cannon!"
BOOM!!
The freezing beam and electromagnetic blast collided mid-air, erupting into a colossal explosion.
A blazing fireball unfurled, threatening to incinerate everything in reach as it swallowed both figures whole.
Less than half a second later,
Two bodies were hurled out of the inferno, tumbling across the ground for more than a hundred meters before finally sliding to a halt.
Black smoke billowed as Darren and Saint Michael glared at each other through the towering, distorted flames, both of them breathing hard.
They looked as if they'd been dredged from a dye vat, scorched and ragged from head to toe.
Yet Saint Michael let out a low, icy laugh.
"Whether it's Douglas Bullet's 'Demon Form' or Kaido's lightning-stimulated body activation technique, both demand constant, explosive outpourings of Haki…"
"And you're not even a Mythical Zoan. You're forcing your body to wield techniques only a Mythical Zoan can truly endure. The strain and energy loss you're suffering must be beyond imagination."
"You can't win against me."
As his words fell, the black flame coiled around Saint Michael's body erupted into a raging blaze.
To be continued...