The coldness in Michael's eyes deepened.
Toward the Golden Lion, his feelings were both admiration and disgust.
He admired him for his unwavering belief in strength.
But he despised him for being a pure pirate—so pure, in fact, that he surpassed even Roger and Whitebeard.
From beginning to end, Golden Lion had never possessed any so-called "ideal." He simply relished the thrill of slaughter on the open sea.
"You keep running your mouth about pirates... but that didn't stop you from getting in bed with the World Government, did it?" Michael raised his gaze toward the Golden Lion. "And you still call yourself a pirate? Right now, you're nothing but the World Government's lapdog."
"Say whatever you want." Golden Lion shook his head, then slowly drew his twin swords.
The two short, broad blades that had followed him all his life let out a resonant hum, as if they too were excited at the chance to once again cross blades with a true powerhouse.
"Michael, I'm no longer hindered by my broken legs or that helm. I hope you're as strong as the rumors say, or else... I might not be satisfied."
"You sure talk big for an old lion..." Michael shook his head, gripping Myōjō tightly in his hand.
"Since you're that old, why don't you just crawl into some corner and die there?"
The instant his words fell, Michael charged straight toward the Golden Lion.
At such extreme speed, his preemptive strike didn't startle the experienced veteran in the slightest. Golden Lion took two calm steps back, and his hands swept both blades in unison—
"Slash Wave!"
A massive X-shaped wave of compressed air roared forth, slicing toward Michael.
On the sea, that slash alone could cut open hundreds of kilometers of ocean.
This was Golden Lion's most iconic sword technique—one that had felled countless opponents throughout his life.
But Michael was not one of them.
Holy Light and Armament Haki coated Myōjō at once.
A pure white arc, edged with a streak of violet-black sharpness, swung out violently, colliding with the Golden Lion's attack head-on.
In an instant, the point of impact split the earth beneath them, carving out deep, jagged ravines.
Michael frowned slightly.
Was this really the Golden Lion at his peak?
Strong—undeniably so.
But... something felt off.
That slash just now—he was sure it hadn't been full power.
His own strike had only been a test, yet it had cut clean through the Golden Lion's wave?
That wasn't the kind of strength one would expect from someone once said to rival Whitebeard.
"You'd better start getting serious, old man," Michael said, raising his gaze to meet the pirate's.
"Because I really do plan to kill you here."
"I figured as much," Golden Lion replied with a grin. "From the moment you arrived, your killing intent was suffocating, brat."
Yet within that grin, Michael caught a trace of dissatisfaction—a faint sense of frustration that puzzled him.
But in the midst of battle, Michael had no intention of giving Golden Lion any opening.
After the first clash, his speed didn't waver; he pressed the attack relentlessly.
Golden Lion met every blow head-on, laughing boisterously all the while.
His physical strength—flawless.
His Armament Haki—unimpeachable.
Every movement—worthy of a true powerhouse.
And yet, Michael still found it lacking.
After another furious exchange, he kicked off and retreated, putting some distance between them.
"Oh? What's wrong? Giving up already?" Golden Lion arched a brow but didn't give chase.
"No," Michael sighed. "Like you said... it's just too boring."
Those words instantly stoked the flames of fury within the Golden Lion.
The wild aura radiating from him surged; his killing intent began to spike.
"You... can you still use your Conqueror's Haki?" Michael tilted his head curiously, unfazed. "Are you really no longer affected by that thing in your head?"
Michael's question pierced the Golden Lion's chest like a blade sharper than Myōjō.
The lion's eyes lifted.
From their depths, that smoldering dissatisfaction—finally broke free of its cage.
It was resentment toward Roger—for betraying him.
Resentment toward Michael—for once blocking his strike.
And most of all, resentment toward himself—toward the years that had stripped him bare.
Time spared no one, granting favor to none.
It was the fairest force in existence— and the cruelest.
The tides of their era had risen and fallen again and again.
Generations of powerhouses came and went, each wave replacing the last.
Golden Lion, Roger, Whitebeard... all of them, no matter how mighty—were but a grain of sand against the tide.
After his escape from Impel Down, he had wanted to show the world once more what a true great pirate was.
Yet only recently—thanks to the "help" of the World Government—had he regained his body's strength.
That alone filled him with disgust.
So much that he began to loathe his very existence.
Even the so-called "new Flying Pirates" now felt like nothing but a joke to him.
And as he faced Michael—the genuine powerhouse of this era—Golden Lion couldn't help but laugh at himself.
Not at Michael, but at his own pathetic self.
"You're right."
Golden Lion exhaled a long breath.
"The World Government may have healed my legs, and tried to dull the pain this thing causes," he said, knocking the helm embedded in his skull.
"But... how could that ever erase it completely? As long as this is still here, I'll never climb back to my own peak."
"But... I've had enough."
"I'm done with this wretched, half-alive existence."
Golden Lion raised his head.
He'd had enough of time's cruelty.
Enough of being ordered around by those above him.
Enough of being crushed beneath the relentless wheels of a new era.
Michael's eye twitched slightly.
He could feel something strange building.
Sure enough—in the next moment, Golden Lion lifted the swords into the air, gripped the helm embedded in his skull—and wrenched it free with a furious roar!
Blood sprayed everywhere.
But then—
Boom!
The Conqueror's Haki that had long lain dormant within him, suppressed by pain, erupted like a storm.
It washed over the heavens, shaking the very sky.
One man alone made the world change color.
Golden Lion looked at Michael and smiled in satisfaction.
"This... this is me."
"This... is the Golden Lion!"
"Michael, let's start the second round!"
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