Two undisputed Admiral-level powerhouses—
fighting without the slightest concern for anyone else—
unleashing their strongest techniques without restraint.
What would be the result?
The answer was unfolding before their eyes.
In just the first collision, one-fifth of God Valley had vanished.
Vast sections of land were torn apart by tremors and swallowed by the sea. Furious waves surged from every direction, surrounding the island's remains, the ocean battering it relentlessly until towering tsunamis formed.
Marines, pirates, and World Government agents near the coastline all fled toward the island's center. Countless lives were erased by the aftermath of Whitebeard and Garp's clash.
Those forced inland fared no better.
Powerful figures were already battling in the central region.
And the small town at the island's heart—originally the Celestial Dragons' hunting ground—naturally became the most "ideal" refuge in everyone's mind.
But a new problem arose.
The Celestial Dragons were still conducting their grotesque "festival" there.
If Marines or agents—whom they regarded as inferior beings—accidentally crossed paths with them, the lucky ones might receive a barrage of insults and kicks.
The unlucky ones—
might be shot dead by the very nobles they were assigned to protect.
But no one had the luxury of caring.
The ground itself was being destroyed.
Whitebeard and Garp's battlefield was spreading inland.
Shiki and Sengoku continued clashing in the sky, but Shiki clearly had no intention of falling behind the other Division Commanders—he too began shifting toward the center.
Pirates who had searched fruitlessly along the outskirts also turned inward.
The soldiers chasing them—or being chased—followed suit.
Fragmented skirmishes gradually converged.
Among the "prey" released onto the island were capable pirates as well. They merged into the chaos, exacting savage revenge against the Celestial Dragons.
In mere moments—
the entire situation shifted.
All because of a single sky-splitting tremor from Whitebeard.
…
Crunch. Crunch.
Roldy chewed on a fully mechanical arm.
In his other hand, he held a bloodied arm that had clearly been torn off by brute force.
Saint Batista lay slumped against a tree, pale and powerless, watching Roldy approach with a demonic expression.
Despair filled his heart.
He had never encountered someone so utterly insane.
Roldy ignored his own injuries.
Even when Batista's attacks left him grievously wounded, he showed no hesitation.
He could have used the Moa Moa Fruit to evade—
yet he chose instead to multiply his strength, intent on crushing Batista's heart with a single blow.
In a contest of brutality—
how could a noble accustomed to luxury and authority compete with someone raised in blood and hardship?
Batista's prized Devil Fruit power had become nothing more than entertainment for Roldy .
His sharp teeth crushed steel into fragments.
Roldy spat the metallic remains aside.
He tossed the severed arm away and looked at Batista—now reduced to nothing but two legs.
Without hesitation—
Roldy 's clawed hand pierced straight through his chest.
"You… the World Government won't let you go…"
Batista's final words meant nothing.
Roldy pulled out a still-warm heart.
For a fleeting moment, the feral instinct of a beast stirred within him.
He swallowed.
But he was still human.
The animal inside did not rule him.
He crushed the heart.
Blood splashed across his body.
To him, it felt almost cleansing.
"Holy Knights? Celestial Dragons?"
"What a joke."
As if venting years of fury, Roldy uprooted a tree and smashed Batista's corpse again and again until it became unrecognizable pulp.
"You wanted to make me a slave?"
"You enjoy looking down on others?"
"Speak!"
"Answer me!"
The Celestial Dragon—
once untouchable—
was reduced to mush.
Roldy threw aside the splintered trunk.
And in that moment—
he felt clarity.
As if something within him had grown sharper.
His Conqueror's Haki—
had strengthened, if only slightly.
The realization filled him with excitement.
This island held countless Celestial Dragons—
slave traders.
Oppressors.
The very scum he despised most.
If killing one strengthened his spirit even a little—
what would happen if he killed them all?
Would his Conqueror's Haki finally reach the threshold Garp once mentioned—
the level required to wield Advanced Conqueror's Haki Coating?
As his thoughts burned hotter—
a faint rustling sound came from the bushes behind him.
"Who's there?!"
Instinctively, Roldy plucked a bead from the bracelet around his wrist and hurled it.
The bead—once no larger than a basketball—
expanded thirtyfold under the Moa Moa Fruit's power.
Combined with his monstrous strength—
it became a meteor.
"Ahhh! Don't!"
The voice was not that of an enemy—
but of a frightened child.
The boy stumbled backward—
but before he could take even a single step, the massive projectile was already upon him.
Roldy saw it clearly—
the slave collar around the boy's neck.
"Damn it!"
The values instilled in him long ago did not permit him to slaughter the innocent.
Without hesitation, he dashed forward, striking the enlarged bead aside with a single palm.
At over six meters tall, he loomed like a giant before the child.
The boy collapsed, trembling.
"A slave…?"
Roldy crouched down.
His voice softened.
The child was over 1.7 meters tall but still clearly young.
His features were unusual—
but Roldy didn't examine them closely.
The slave collar was what mattered.
With two fingers, he crushed it effortlessly.
The boy had braced himself for death—
yet instead felt the weight fall away from his neck.
He stared at Roldy in disbelief.
"Run," Roldy said quietly. "This place isn't kind to you."
That was all he could do.
He had more pressing matters—
Celestial Dragons to hunt.
"Th-thank you!"
The boy engraved Roldy 's towering back into his memory.
"I'll repay you one day!"
He waved—
and between his fingers stretched thin webbing.
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