The dust clouds rolling across the plateau did not settle; they were held aloft by the suffocating weight of the clashing presences.
Kizaru stood between the three high commanders of the Red Hair Pirates, his hands finally sliding out of his trousers pockets.
The casual, lazy slouch that usually defined his posture began to straighten, his towering frame cutting a sharp silhouette against the silver moonlight. He looked at the blood dripping from his left cheek, then at the smoking rifle in Benn Beckman's hand, and finally at the furious, bleeding form of Shanks.
"My, my..." Kizaru drawled, though the nasal, playful pitch of his voice had completely vanished, replaced by a cold, metallic clarity. "The atmosphere has gotten rather heavy. I suppose if I continue to take things lightly, I might actually end up dying out here. That would be a terrible stain on my record."
Slowly, Kizaru reached down, placing the sea-stone alloy case containing the Fenrir fruit behind a massive, solid block of bedrock, shielding it from the immediate blast zone. When he stood back up, the amber lenses of his sunglasses were completely obscured by a brilliant, blinding white-gold glare.
The air did not just crackle; it began to hum with a high-frequency vibration.
Benn Beckman didn't wait for the Admiral to finish his sentence. With a fluid, practiced motion, he brought the flintlock rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.
A heavy lead slug tore through the air, completely wrapped in a dense, swirling vortex of pitch-black Armament Haki. The trajectory was perfect, aiming directly between Kizaru's eyes.
In the exact same microsecond, Kizaru shifted. He did not dissolve into a linear beam this time; he simply tilted his head to the side at the speed of light. The bullet grazed the space where his ear had been, the immense wind pressure of the Haki-clad shot tearing a clean rip through his high Marine collar.
Before the bullet could even strike the ground behind him, Kizaru exploded into motion.
A blinding flash of golden light illuminated the entire plateau as Kizaru materialized directly in front of Beckman. His right hand was already thrust forward, his fingers formed into a piercing spear-hand position, glowing with the volatile intensity of a laser cannon.
"Light Speed Spear," Kizaru murmured.
Beckman's eyes narrowed. He didn't try to retreat. Instead, he swung the heavy, steel-reinforced barrel of his rifle upward, the weapon instantly turning a glossy, metallic black as he coated it in maximum Armament Haki.
CLANG!
The collision of Kizaru's light-spear against Beckman's rifle barrel produced a high-pitched, deafening shockwave that shattered the stone floor beneath them, sending a ring of fractured rock flying outward. The sheer thermal energy of Kizaru's light began to melt the surface of the earth, turning the dirt into red-hot slag.
From Kizaru's blind spot, a massive shadow loomed. Shanks cut through the steam, his face contorted in absolute fury. Despite his shattered ribs screaming in agony, he gripped Gryphon with both hands, swinging the sabre in a devastating, vertical arc. A massive crescent of black and crimson Conqueror's Haki erupted from the blade, slicing through the air with enough force to part the clouds above.
Kizaru felt the lethal pressure of the kingly will. Without breaking his clash with Beckman, he raised his left leg, manifesting the Ama no Murakumo light sword directly from his shin, extending the blade of solid energy to block Shanks' descending strike.
BOOM!
The cratered plain couldn't handle the strain. The earth groaned as a massive, thirty-foot fissure ripped open between the three combatants. Shanks' Conqueror's Haki sparked violently against Kizaru's light blade, the crimson lightning arcs splintering off the steel and vaporizing the surrounding debris.
Kizaru was being pushed. His shoes skidded backward across the melting stone, leaving two glowing trenches in the earth.
For the first time in the battle, a bead of sweat rolled down Kizaru's temple, mixing with the blood on his cheek. He was facing the combined, synchronized assault of two of the most dangerous rookies in the New World, and the fight was rapidly locking into a terrifyingly equal stalemate.
Kizaru leaped backward, dissolving into a cluster of shimmering photons to break the double pressure from Shanks and Beckman. He reformed twenty feet away in the air, his arms crossed over his chest as he prepared to rain down an inescapable storm of lasers.
"Sacred Jewel~" Kizaru announced, light pooling at his fingertips.
He never got to fire.
A sudden, violent shift in atmospheric pressure occurred directly to his right. It wasn't the sound of someone running or jumping; it was the terrifying, thunderous roar of a sonic boom.
Kizaru's Observation Haki flared with an alarm so loud it felt like a physical strike to his brain. He turned his head, his amber lenses reflecting a massive, round silhouette that was already occupying his immediate personal space.
It was Lucky Roux.
The fat sharpshooter of the Red Hair Pirates was supposed to be dozens of yards away, standing beside Beckman. But within a fraction of a millisecond, he had covered the distance entirely.
His movement completely defied the laws of physics. His massive, round body was traveling at a velocity that didn't just rival the speed of light. It was dense enough to compress the literal air around him into a vacuum shield.
Lucky Roux's entire right side was completely blackened, reinforced with a layer of Armament Haki so thick it looked like polished obsidian. He simply tucked his arms inward, turning his entire massive frame into a flying, unstoppable meteor of pure muscle and Haki.
"Get out of our sky, Marine," Lucky Roux muttered, his voice a low, rumbling growl.
Kizaru didn't even have time to manifest his light sword. He frantically threw his arms up in a cross-guard defense, coating his forearms in his own maximum Armament Haki.
WHAM!
The impact was cataclysmic.
The sound of Lucky Roux's Haki-clad body slamming into Kizaru was like two tectonic plates grinding together at high velocity. The invisible armor of their respective Haki clashed for a split second before the sheer, unyielding momentum of Roux's speed and mass shattered through Kizaru's defense.
The bones in Kizaru's forearms groaned under the pressure. The absolute force of the blow blasted the Marine Admiral straight out of the air, sending him rocketing downward at a steep angle. He hit the plateau floor like a falling star, tearing a massive, deep trench through the bedrock, shattering three separate stone spires before finally being buried deep beneath a collapsing mountain of heavy rubble on the edge of the crater.
A massive cloud of white dust and pulverized stone erupted into the sky, mushrooming upward and obscuring the moon once more.
Lucky Roux landed heavily on his feet, his boots skidding a few inches across the dirt. He took a massive bite out of the meat bone he was still clutching in his left hand, his breathing heavy but stable, his round sunglasses reflecting the settling dust.
On the opposite side of the ruined plateau, near the edge of the newly formed subterranean crater, a ragtag group slowly dragged themselves up from the depths.
Giovanni was stumbling, his face pale and covered in sweat, but his arm was thrown over the shoulder of Hongo, who was helping him navigate the jagged rocks. Behind them came Limejuice, his electric staff resting on his shoulder, his eyes wide as he looked at the massive cloud of dust where the Admiral had just been buried.
Leaning heavily against Limejuice's side was Charlotte Katakuri. The young Sweet Commander was barely conscious, his head hanging low, his newly exposed jaw tight with pain, but his eyes were fixed on the battlefield above.
And finally, being dragged by the collar of his shirt by Giovanni's free hand, was Caribou.
The swamp-logia user was a complete, sniveling mess. His slimy, elongated body was vibrating with sheer terror, his long tongue hanging out as he wept openly, his tears mixing with the dirt on his face.
"Why?! Why did you drag me up here?!" Caribou wailed, his voice a high-pitched, screeching whine that echoed annoyingly across the quiet plateau. "I was perfectly safe hiding in the mud downstairs! Look at this place! There are monsters everywhere! The Red Hair Pirates, the Big Mom Pirates, the Beast Pirates... and a literal Navy Admiral! We're all going to be turned into mincemeat! Let me go back to my swamp!"
Giovanni let out a weak, raspy laugh, coughing slightly as his broken ribs flared with pain. He gave Caribou's collar a harsh tug, dropping him onto the stone floor.
"Shut up, Caribou," Giovanni gasped out, wiping a fresh line of blood from his lips. "You were trying to sneak off with the treasure chest from the lower vault while everyone was fighting. You're staying right where I can see you."
"treasure?! I don't care about treasure anymore!" Caribou screamed, covering his head with his slimy hands as he curled into a pathetic ball on the ground. "That yellow pinstriped guy over there is a literal Marine Admiral! He's going to vaporize us with lasers! We're dead! We're all dead!"
Hongo ignored Caribou's screeching, his professional eyes instantly locking onto Shanks, Beckman, and Lucky Roux, who were regrouping in the center of the plain.
"Shanks!" Hongo called out, his voice sharp with medical authority. "Don't you dare exert yourself any further! Your ribs are completely compromised!"
Shanks didn't turn around. He kept his eyes locked on the mountain of rubble where Kizaru had been buried, his grip on Gryphon remaining absolutely steady. "I hear you, Doc. But I don't think the Admiral is the type to stay down for a nap."
Deep within the dark, suffocating confines of the collapsed mountain of rubble, stone shifted.
A single particle of golden light flickered in the pitch black. Then another.
Kizaru lay flat on his back beneath three tons of heavy bedrock. His sharp yellow suit was torn in multiple places, the pristine fabric stained with gray dust and streaks of soot.
His sunglasses were tilted precariously across his nose, one of the amber lenses webbed with a fine network of cracks. A thin trickle of dark blood ran from the corner of his mouth, joining the dried line on his left cheek.
Lucky Roux's attack had landed with terrifying precision. Kizaru could feel the dull, throbbing ache in his ribs and forearms. A sensation he hadn't experienced in years.
Slowly, deliberately, Kizaru's lips began to curve upward. It wasn't his usual mocking, lazy smirk. It was a slow, calculating, and deeply grim smile.
He didn't make a move to blast the rocks off his body yet. He simply stared up into the darkness of the rubble, his mind working through the strategic variables of the battlefield.
Kizaru thought to himself, 'Oh dear... this is turning out to be quite bad. The Red Hair brat is a furious monster, Beckman matches my pacing, and that fat one... his speed is completely unnatural. To bypass my light-speed perception and deliver a hit like that... the youth of today really are a terrifying bunch.'
He listened to the distant, faint sounds of Caribou's weeping and the shouting of the arriving pirates. The balance of power on the island had completely shifted against him. He was one man standing against the elite vanguards of multiple future Emperor crews.
The grim smile on Kizaru's face widened by a fraction of an inch as he closed his eyes, sensing a massive, dark, and authoritarian pressure drawing closer and closer to the waters of Dressrosa from the outer sea.
Kizaru thought to himself, 'I suppose I'll just have to hold the line for a little bit longer. Lord Saturn... you really need to hurry up. This old body isn't meant to handle this much strenuous exercise.'
---
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