"Magnus!!!!"
Such naked humiliation—how could Lucas Saint, commander of the God Knights, endure it?
He couldn't—but he had to.
Because once Grindevin went down, there was no one left to bail him out. Ryuma pressed him single-sided, and with every passing breath more of that foreign Conqueror's aura clung to his body.
A thin thread of fear crept in.
He might die.
If Grindevin couldn't come, then he needed someone else.
"You Marine trash—hurry up and block that damned samurai for me!"
"Where are the Admirals? Where!?"
"Ardent, Portman—are those two old giant fossils enough to pin you down!?"
"Field Saint! Alison Palace! I need thirty seconds to recover!"
"Only thirty seconds!"
…
The difference between Armament coating and Conqueror's coating is this: Armament only slows the 'immortal' recovery—it can't shut it off.
Conqueror's coating can.
Lucas felt it—each wound Ryuma carved into him left another barb of foreign will. It was beginning to foul his pact with that being.
If the pact collapsed, his undying state would go with it.
And in his condition…
Only a dead end.
His Celestial Dragon status still paid dividends; even knowing the hunter chasing him was a monster, some Vice-Admirals and Rear Admirals broke off their fights to cover him.
They were cut in half by Ryuma's blade.
Wano was gone.
If Magnus hadn't lied, then those who aided these nobles were Ryuma's enemies. And an enemy was to be cut, without exception.
Marine casualties spiked—visibly—until a voice broke through.
"Bastard! Aren't you a Celestial Dragon, a 'world noble'!? Why are you running? Fight him head-on!"
"Hey, Garp—do you have a death wish!?"
"I'm just pissed off!"
In the crush, Garp had just dropped a pirate; he was soaked in blood and miserable. He hated it—he wasn't strong enough. Even giving everything, he could only watch comrades fall.
When the so-called God Knights appeared, he'd thought hope had come.
Now he knew he couldn't have been more wrong.
From his angle the shift was clear: the Marines had been turning the line, steadily suppressing the pirates. That CP chief, Grindevin, had those White Wolf brats on their heels. A counterattack was a matter of time.
Then that Celestial Dragon panicked, called Grindevin off, handed the kids a window—bam, ambushed and captured. Another Celestial Dragon got collared like a mutt.
And now this one ordered Marines to be his meat shield.
That was sending them to die.
Only Ardent, who knew the God Knights, understood: if there was no deeper card left, their one chance to flip the board was to keep Lucas alive.
Pile bodies if they must—buy him the thirty seconds.
He was undying.
Give him that half minute and he could tie Ryuma again for a long stretch.
Then the whole match would hinge on—
"Father, hold on! I'm shaking Magnus and coming to you!"
Elsewhere, despite his loud laugh, three-on-one was taxing even for Magnus. He didn't want parity—he wanted control—so he'd shifted to his widest-area posture.
The white wolf on two legs looked like a primordial beast. A normal giant ran about twenty meters tall; Magnus's full beast was not far off.
At first he'd wondered why a two-meter frame could boom out to nearly twenty, and not like a balloon—this was solid meat.
Then he shrugged.
In a world where a fruit gives you powers, why overthink fruit logic?
This wasn't his strongest form, but it was perfect for now.
One casual rake of his claws gave Claude's trio a suffocating pressure; a Conqueror-laced swipe ripped the ground like tofu, forcing the three to keep their backs from him.
But that swollen beastly body also made a huge surface to hit; he couldn't slip everything—he had to eat blows.
And these three weren't weaklings.
"That damned pirate!"
Claude and Granreed attacked while glaring at the hulking monster.
Sure, both had imagined inheriting the Feigaland family—after Father passed.
But not like this.
If Lucas died, and the Wano swordsman turned back to pair with Magnus, not just Lucas—both sons were in mortal danger.
"Granreed, Stephens and I will screen. You go to Father. He must not fall!"
Claude's voice dropped.
Before the fight, he hadn't imagined Magnus was this strong.
Three-on-one, and they still couldn't take the edge?
But after this long, Claude had a read. Magnus only held parity by using mass and power to blunt them. In truth, aside from stamina spent, they were unharmed, while Magnus was scored with wounds.
If his Conqueror's couldn't completely suppress them,
immortality remained their bedrock.
"Haa… looks like I won't stop you."
As if glimpsing the near future, Magnus stopped forcing it.
Two-on-one he could manage all day.
Three strained even him.
But his effort wasn't wasted—Grindevin was down, wasn't he?
The God Knights' immortality came in two kinds:
One like the Feigaland trio—purely contracted to Imu, no fruits at all.
The other contracted—and fruit users.
The first was nasty.
Short of ripping the undying mark with Conqueror's, or gumming recovery with Armament, you had no clean answer.
The second was simple.
They could be undying—but if you crippled the fruit user, then immortal or not, they were baggage.
Like Grindevin and Kurt Saint, now captured alive.
Still 'immortal.'
But high-grade seastone collars and baby-arm-thick chains trussed them like rice dumplings, and the sea took care of the rest.
Eat a fruit and even if Imu herself showed up, you still went limp.
Thinking it through—
the God Knights' immortality could only be Imu's power at work. Beyond undying and "teleport," did she have more?
In any case—
once he realized he couldn't keep the trio from peeling off, Magnus stopped body-blocking and shifted down into his hybrid.
Smaller—yet the pressure on Claude and Stephens doubled.
He was back in his best fighting form—and they were down a man.
"Hold on!"
Claude stared at Magnus's bleeding lines and muttered.
"He can't outlast us!"
Across the field, the God Knights' undying was showing its teeth.
Eleven powerful monsters who wouldn't stay down.
If Kurt hadn't been taken by Newgate and Ripley, and if Lucas hadn't been chased ragged by a Wano swordsman, the pirates' morale would have snapped.
Even so, their initial surge had dulled.
Once to rouse, twice to wane, thrice to exhaust.
For a loose coalition, pushing the world's greatest power this far was already something to brag about.
But not enough.
At the apex, Magnus and Ryuma held the upper hand.
On the second tier,
with the Knights, the Marines still had the initiative.
So after bagging Grindevin and Kurt, the White Wolf trio—Newgate, Ripley, Linlin—sprinted to help elsewhere.
Clang!
At the last instant, dutiful son Granreed arrived, catching a cut in front of his father.
Ryuma didn't complain.
Magnus had bought eternity, three-on-one—that said enough.
He, by contrast, had only one target and the jump—yet still hadn't closed.
"I'm out of practice."
The dead forget their craft? Ryuma thought not. What had changed was his heart.
In life he looked ahead with hope.
Now, dead, all he truly had was this moment.
He hesitated, wondering whether his choice was right.
Then he saw, in the distance, a swordsman dressed much like him—Kensaburo—and let it go.
Maybe Magnus had hidden things from him.
But dead men don't have many choices, do they?
"Dragon Beheading."
Fresh from Magnus's line, Granreed blocked one slash and exhaled.
Not worst-case yet.
Father was in tatters, but for the undying, once the Conqueror's clinging to wounds dispersed, flesh would knit.
He only needed to buy thirty seconds.
Then his father would return to the line.
Could he do it?
He had no doubt.
Please.
He was an apex swordsman—and immortal.
Who could beat him in half a minute?
Not even Magnus.
Watching, he kept both eyes locked on Ryuma.
He wouldn't repeat Father's mistake.
Ryuma was strong—but with immortality—
…huh?
Ryuma made a drawing motion.
It looked like the earlier cuts.
But Granreed never saw the blade leave the sheath.
His vision tilted.
Somewhere, he thought he heard his father roar—
"How dare you!!!!"
Far off, one of only two people who saw Ryuma's motion—Magnus—flashed with razor light.
A kill that slays Observation.
Conqueror's coating.
He alone saw it—in a blink, Ryuma veiled Granreed's Observation, then drew the fastest cut yet.
The Conqueror's packed into that stroke was so dense it prickled even Magnus, a kilometer away.
In one blow, Granreed's head flew—and the demon contract shattered.
Instant kill.
An instant kill that ignored the undying brand.
Magnus was formidable, but even he couldn't promise such clean finality.
His edge wasn't peak penetration; it was a body and recovery beyond reason.
Compared to him,
Ryuma was a glass cannon.
Ryuma might slash him and he'd live. But if Magnus landed a full power punch and Ryuma failed to guard—
the "dragon" would be a dead horse.
He also saw Ryuma's body turn thin and ghosted after the cut; the move wasn't light, and Ryuma wasn't truly alive.
Every drop of stamina spent was gone forever.
Even so, Granreed's death marked the pivot.
No one could save Lucas now.
"Haha—if even the 'reinforcement' has a tally, I can't fall behind!"
Magnus bared his fangs at the ashen Stephens and the shaken Claude.
For him, the war was almost over.
It hadn't even been an hour.
But with Grindevin captured and Granreed dead,
the tide had turned.
If the Government wanted a comeback, the only way was to send the Five Elders.
He'd checked before the battle:
they weren't here. Even if they used that circle to jump, he and Ryuma could smash them back the instant they arrived.
If their true bodies came?
Hah.
What did they take his map-wide Observation for?
With that thought,
Magnus's taut heart eased a fraction.
And that is when surprises come.
A foul presence rose.
There were two who saw Ryuma's motion.
Magnus—
and the other—
"How disappointing. After centuries of comfort, are the God Knights only this much?"
A calm voice cut in.
The cloaked girl who'd been "assisting" Ortega against Harald suddenly changed—utterly.
That change wiped the color from Harald's face; he had thought her a normal Knight with a fruit.
"Bad!"
Magnus and Ryuma felt it too.
Too late.
"Become my thrall."
Behind the girl, a vast pair of demon wings opened.
A great magic circle flowered under Harald's feet.
[Devil's Pact.]
In an instant, while dueling Ortega, Harald's whole body sank as if into mire.
Feeling the aura from the girl, Magnus's face finally changed. This will, this Conqueror's—none but Imu.
He had thought the one harrying Harald was a regular Knight—the cloaked girl clearly had her own fruit.
He hadn't imagined Imu could ride a God Knight down to the field.
"Old hag—you've no shame!"
(End of Chapter)
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