The clay clone stood there completely unscathed.
A chill ran down Lightning's spine.
There was only one person in all of Impel Down who could wield clay like this—
The one who had been thrown into Freezing Hell just this morning.
The prison's new Chief Guard.
Lightning stared at the clay clone, whispering the name as if afraid it would hear him.
"Ian… Adrian?"
"You know me?"
Ian's voice burst beside his ear like a thunderclap.
Lightning froze.
The breath brushing the back of his neck made his scalp go numb.
He bolted—faster than he had ever moved in his life.
Only after putting more than ten meters between them did he dare glance back.
Ian was standing exactly where Lightning had just been, calm as still water.
When did he get there?!
Lightning's heart thrashed in his chest.
Was he… watching me attack the whole time!?
"Half blond, half white hair. Giant double shears."
Ian walked toward him—unhurried, steady, each footfall tightening Lightning's nerves.
"You're the former inmate of Freezing Hell…
"Revolutionary Army high officer.
'Scissor-Man'—Lightning."
Having his identity laid bare so casually made Lightning's face harden.
But Ian wasn't finished.
"I'm curious," Ian said, tone frighteningly calm as he closed the distance.
One step… another…
"One—why is a man who appears on the official death list of Impel Down walking around like nothing happened?
"Two—why is your body completely free of frostbite? Your vitality is… annoyingly healthy.
"And three—why do you know the name of someone who only arrived in Impel Down today—"
Lightning panicked.
He had to stop Ian from talking—
before the man connected the final dots.
"Spiral—Flying Shears!"
Lightning flung both arms out.
His transformed scissor-arms shot forward, spinning wildly, turning into two razor-edged circular discs that shrieked through the air.
Whoosh—!
They cut toward Ian, carrying enough force to split metal like fruit.
Ian didn't move.
The blades struck home.
Shiiiing—!!
Twin deep gouges tore across Ian's torso, clean enough that Lightning could practically see the frozen wasteland behind the man's bisected body.
But—
Not.
One.
Drop.
Of.
Blood.
Lightning's pupils shrank.
The wounds sealed instantly, clay flowing like water.
"You should've realized it already," Ian said softly.
"Your attacks don't work on me."
In the next instant—
Shave.
Ian stamped hard, blasting forward like a cannon shell.
Lightning's eyes barely registered movement before Ian's shadow swallowed him whole.
A fist—coated in pitch-black Armament Haki—drove forward like a piledriver.
Iron Body — Serious Punch.
Lightning reacted at the last possible moment, activating his Snip-Snip Fruit, transforming the surface of his body into hardened scissor-steel.
CLANG!!
Metal rang like a bell.
The impact hurled Lightning dozens of meters away, smashing him through several trees before he skidded to a stop.
Snow and dust scattered.
Lightning knelt on one knee, blood running from the corner of his mouth.
A deep, fist-shaped dent marred his transformed torso.
The Snip-Snip Fruit had reduced some of the damage…
But Armament Haki's suppression of Devil Fruit bodies was absolute.
Ian's punch had nearly broken him.
No wonder he traded blows with Shiryu… He's a monster…
Lightning spat out a mouthful of congealed blood, eyes burning with stubborn resolve.
But no matter what… I cannot allow him to discover our sanctuary!
Level 5.5 — Newkama Paradise.
The secret refuge built by Emporio Ivankov.
Lightning would die before he let a government dog find it.
He planted both scissor-arms into the ground.
As a Snip-Snip Fruit user, not only could he transform his body—
he could cut anything solid as easily as paper… and manipulate the pieces.
In seconds, the frozen floor beneath him was carved into countless thin "frost tiles."
They floated, stacked, shuffled—like sheets of paper in a giant's hand.
Lightning flicked them with a motion like throwing paper planes—
And the "paper planes" became volleys of heavy frozen shells.
"KEEPOUT!!!"
A storm of frost tiles roared toward Ian, the barrage dense enough to bury him alive.
Ian didn't retreat.
Paper Art — Clay Form.
His body softened—shifted—flowed.
He walked forward through the blizzard of ice as if strolling through falling petals.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM—!!
Each tile that struck the ground behind him exploded with cannon-like force.
But when Ian stepped out of the smoke—
His clothes weren't even dusty.
Ian lifted his gaze.
"Is this really…"
He tilted his head slightly, almost disappointed.
"…all the strength a senior officer of the Revolutionary Army has?"
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