"Mostima, surrender obediently!"
"Hand over your head!"
"Give up the Devil Fruits you bought!"
Mostima had already secured two Devil Fruits.
Now, dozens of pirates and bounty hunters surrounded him. Some wanted glory and fame; others had their eyes on his 200-million–berry bounty; and many simply desired his Devil Fruits.
To them, Mostima was an irresistible prize. They knew he was strong, but none had a true grasp of his power. Confidence—and greed—made them reckless. They had confirmed that none of the White Bird Pirates were on the island; Mostima was alone.
Numbers emboldened them. They believed that no matter how strong he was, he couldn't face them all. But they failed to understand that Mostima's bounty did not reflect his true strength.
"Nonsense. Let me help you recognize your place," Mostima said with a faint smile.
The commotion immediately drew attention across the Sabaody Archipelago. Reporters and News Coos swarmed—this was the gateway to the New World, after all, and any major battle here became instant news.
Even before the first strike, live broadcasts began airing across the island. Mostima and the mob surrounding him appeared on massive public screens.
"What's going on?" someone asked. "Is something about to happen?"
Moments later, the explanation spread: a clash born of greed—pirates and bounty hunters ganging up on a New World pirate.
Many spectators were curious. For pirates seeking to enter the New World, testing their strength against a New World pirate was a rare opportunity. That sea was infamous for its chaos, where the world's most powerful pirates gathered. Every year, failed challengers were driven out, returning to Paradise through Fish-Man Island—veterans whose names once shook the first half of the Grand Line.
Meanwhile, Marine Headquarters received the transmission. Images from Sabaody played before the upper brass.
"A large-scale battle involving a New World pirate?" Sengoku's brow furrowed. "Who will head to Sabaody and capture them? Keep the island stable and protect the Celestial Dragons. If anything happens to them, it'll be a nightmare." The mere mention of them gave him a headache.
"I'll go," said Vice Admiral Harbel, rising to his feet.
Harbel, though newly promoted, was a veteran Marine in his forties. His strength had long qualified him for Vice Admiral, but his close friendship with the now-retired Vice Admiral Anthony had left him isolated politically, slowing his rise.
Following the heavy losses of recent years, the deaths of three Vice Admirals in a clash with the Whitebeard Pirates, one's resignation, and others killed by Kaido and the Roger Pirates—the Marines had scrambled to fill their ranks. Harbel was among the newly elevated replacements, solidly mid-tier in power.
"Good. Then you shall go," Sengoku said, relieved to have a volunteer.
On Sabaody, the battle erupted.
"Mostima, die!" a bounty hunter yelled, charging forward with sword drawn.
Mostima's eyes glinted with disdain. His hand moved, drawing his renowned blade, Reikū.
"White Feather Style: Wind Cutter."
The bounty hunter lunged but in the next instant, Mostima vanished.
A silver flash pierced through the man's chest. Mostima's form blurred again.
"Wind Ghost Walk."
Only a few spectators managed to glimpse the faint white afterimage trailing him. When his figure reappeared, he stood exactly where he had been before—while bodies dropped all around him.
"What… what just happened?" gasped one pirate. No one had even seen his attacks.
"Youth is truly wonderful," said Rayleigh, watching from a distant tree, smiling faintly. Beside him, Shakky nodded.
"Yes. The difference in strength is immense," she said. "With swordsmanship at a master's level and that kind of speed, these Paradise pirates can't touch him. And he's a Devil Fruit user, too."
At Marine Headquarters, officers watched in silence.
Mostima's speed stunned even veteran Vice Admirals. Only a handful could match him and among them, perhaps only Borsalino, user of the Glint-Glint Fruit, could surpass it.
"It seems we underestimated this Mostima," one Vice Admiral muttered. "A 200-million bounty doesn't fit him."
"He rarely acts," Tsuru explained. "He built up an island instead of plundering, so he wasn't considered a major threat. He's one of the few who turned a poor island prosperous the handicrafts from White Sand Island even reached Headquarters."
Sengoku nodded gravely. "Then Harbel alone may not suffice. His speed will be difficult to contain."
"I can go—" Sakazuki began, rising from his seat, but a voice interrupted him.
"Let me handle it." The door opened, revealing Zephyr with his distinctive purple hair. "There are many pirates gathered there. It's a good chance to train the elite cadets."
No one objected. With Zephyr taking command, they felt assured.
Still, it bordered on overkill—sending an Admiral-level powerhouse after a young pirate. But since Mostima had no major backer like Whitebeard or Golden Lion, few saw it as excessive.
"Is this your strength?" Mostima stood among corpses, expression calm. "The New World is not for trash like you."
His composed mockery infuriated the survivors. These were men who had clawed their way up from the Four Seas and the first half of the Grand Line—bounty hunters and pirates alike who considered themselves powerful.
Now, a single young man looked down on them.
Their fury boiled over.
Leading them was Jetman Kaski, a pirate worth 160 million berries and user of the Jet-Jet Fruit.
"I don't care what New World pirate you are—die by my hand!" Kaski roared, raising his arms as they transformed into massive jet nozzles. "Be incinerated by flames!"
Twin pillars of fire roared from his arms, scorching the air. The attack was powerful but too slow to touch Mostima.
He vanished again, his movements light and soundless.
Kaski's eyes darted around. His ability was strong at range, but if Mostima closed the distance, he was finished.
"You won't get close to me!" he shouted, laughing with yellowed teeth.
"Jet: Ice Wall!"
The flame jets shifted to ice-blue beams, freezing the ground around him. Ice surged upward, forming a solid wall that expanded into a crude bunker.
"Come and taste it my Ice and Fire Dual Heavens!" he roared proudly.
The ice bulwark glittered under the sunlight, jagged and uneven, its top sealed save for a few gaping vents—firing ports for his jets.
Through them, Kaski unleashed alternating streams of fire and freezing rays, utterly disregarding his allies.
"Damn it, Kaski!"
"Watch where you're aiming, you idiot!"
"What are you doing?! You'll kill us all!"
Their curses filled the air, but Kaski ignored them, his attention fixed solely on Mostima. Flames and ice blasted outward in wild arcs, covering the area in a fog of steam and smoke.
High above, Teach watched silently. "Interesting… Ice and fire," he murmured. "That fruit's lower limit is high, but the upper limit? Not so much."
Kaski's Jet-Jet Fruit was versatile; he could spray nearly anything—venom, gas, lava, acid, even cannonballs. But raw ability couldn't replace mastery. A true martial artist could have turned that fruit into something terrifying.
At Marine Headquarters, the officers watching were unimpressed. Kaski's power was flashy but limited.
Below, chaos reigned. The mixed flames and frost turned the battlefield into hell. Some pirates caught in the blasts burned alive; others froze mid-scream. Those hit by both suffered worst of all—scorched and frozen, writhing in agony.
Thick fog filled the air, blurring the scene.
Mostima moved unseen within it, his calm smile never fading.