The audience fell silent.
"Hahaha."
The sharp, unsettling laughter pierced through the stillness.
Satori darted away without hesitation.
"Enel is definitely going to act now," he muttered. "I better hide before I get roasted."
Enel stepped forward, electricity crackling around him. "Then allow this god to handle you myself, lunatic."
He glanced at Zatoichi and Ahri. "You two, leave. Now."
But Mufasa, standing calmly, shook his head.
"The three of you should stay together. I'd rather not go hunting you down one by one," Mufasa said coolly.
His words ignited fury.
Thick gray smoke began to rise from the cracks in Enel's storm-forged armor.
Ahri turned to Zatoichi. "Hey, blind guy, we going together?"
Zatoichi slowly stood, hand resting on the hilt at his waist.
"I may just be a wandering swordsman, but people call me a warrior. I'm not one to run."
He smiled slightly. "And frankly, I'm getting a little irritated."
Ahri gently tapped her palm against the floor, floating upward like a drifting petal.
"Guess it's a draw then."
A golden shimmer cloaked her body.
Enel scoffed. "This god has no interest in side characters. Just stand aside and watch."
Mufasa frowned. He hated disobedient brats.
"Kid, listen to advice when it's given. Arrogance won't save you."
With a flick of his wrist, the naginata appeared in his grip.
Boom!
The massive blade came crashing down toward Enel's head.
Faster than lightning. Heavier than a mountain.
Enel had no time to react.
Crack.
The storm armor split like butter under a hot blade. The slash cleaved through, carving deep into the ground.
BOOM.
A crater with four jagged marks exploded beneath them.
The casino crumbled. Nearby buildings collapsed in a chain reaction.
The legendary armor shattered into fragments.
"No way! Did he just kill Enel that easily?!"
The pirates hiding in nearby trees and upper balconies gawked in disbelief.
"Enel didn't even dodge!"
Mufasa didn't look impressed.
"One hit? Seriously? Weak. Call yourself the Thunder God? What a joke."
From the broken pieces of armor, gray smoke billowed out.
It swirled upward, condensing into a thick cloud over the ruins.
A voice echoed from within.
"You're stronger than I thought. I didn't expect to be caught off guard."
Mufasa glanced up. "You from the Smoke Clan or something?"
In the world of shinobi, rumors spoke of the Smoke Clan—rogue ninja with the rare ability to turn their bodies into vapor.
The younger the member, the more powerful and unstable the transformation.
Enel's voice cut through the haze.
"Never heard of them. But I do know this—your time's up."
"Ahri. Zatoichi. Permission granted. Attack."
"Though I doubt I'll need help."
The smoke gathered and lifted him into the sky, fusing with the hanging clouds.
The clouds darkened, turning a brooding gray-black.
Thunder rumbled. Lightning danced in the air.
But Mufasa stood unfazed.
Where others feared storms, he saw fuel.
Legends whispered of warriors who could devour storms, manipulate them, even thrive in naval battles where others perished.
No wonder there was a massive sea graveyard nearby.
He narrowed his eyes. "What kind of fusion is this? Weather and smoke?"
But battlefields don't wait for thoughts.
BOOM!
A thunderclap boomed like war drums.
From the clouds, a thick bolt of lightning—like a divine spear—struck down toward Mufasa.
The entire island flashed.
Even hardened soldiers had to blink away tears from the glare.
Just before impact—
Mufasa raised his right hand.
Snap.
He caught a blade.
Zatoichi's blade.
"Hey," Mufasa grinned. "Don't touch my waist. That's rude."
Zatoichi frowned. His backhand slash was near unbeatable.
Yet Mufasa caught it mid-swing.
"Your chakra's sharp," Mufasa admitted. "Sharp enough to shave a single strand of my hair."
He flicked the sword casually. The force sent Zatoichi flying backward.
"I acknowledge your strength. You could be my son."
"Now, let's see what Enel's really got."
Right then—
Lightning struck Mufasa head-on.
Zzzzzzz!
His entire body lit up like a human lantern.
Mufasa opened his mouth and inhaled the electricity like smoke.
He smacked his lips thoughtfully.
"Hmm... Different flavors."
"Thermal-based lightning is warmer, stronger. Water-based? Colder but sharper, cuts deeper."
"Chakra-infused lightning is too processed. Loses its natural kick."
After a moment of taste-testing, he gave his verdict.
"Seems like you're a hybrid. Hydropower with chakra-electric mix."
"It's got the clarity of water, and the complexity of chakra energy."
He smiled.
"For that alone, I, Mufasa—Whitebeard—give you a solid review."
"But don't get cocky, my son."
"This fight's just beginning."
Whitebeard—no, Mufasa—stood tall and unmoved, crackling with residual energy. Zatoichi and Ahri stared at him, dumbfounded, after hearing him casually critique the flavor of lightning while still wrapped in it.
All three of them were baffled.
"What kind of monster is this?!" Ahri whispered.
Mufasa simply reached out and grabbed the lightning that danced around him.
Then, just like that, he stuffed it into his mouth.
Gulp.
He even let out a soft burp.
Ahri and Zatoichi just blinked.
"He's not human," Zatoichi muttered.
The lightning had disappeared, but Mufasa's breathing was calm, steady—completely untouched.
Zatoichi slowly slid his blade back into its sheath.
His head dipped.
Right leg back.
Left foot forward.
His whole body arched like a bow, energy gathering.
The arrow pointed straight at Mufasa.
"Ahri... give me a moment."
He dug his feet into the earth.
Left hand gripped the scabbard.
Right hand hovered above the hilt, fingers flexing.
His blood was rushing. Finally, someone worth using it against.
His strongest technique.
Ahri, meanwhile, shifted her demeanor.
The teasing smirk faded. Now there was only tension.
That old fossil Whitebeard... way too strong.
She looked at Mufasa and frowned.
"You're way too big. I'm way too small... how's a girl supposed to survive this?"
Her tails flicked as she vanished and reappeared beside Mufasa.
She twirled.
Gold powder shimmered in the air.
"Master Mufasa," Ahri purred sweetly.
She raised one elegant finger and curled it at him.
"Come here. Look at me."
Mufasa turned toward the voice.
Illusion: Oiran's Dance.
Gold dust twirled around his head.
In Mufasa's eyes, dozens of lavishly dressed oirans spun, smiled, and danced in hypnotic loops.
A dazzling, seductive illusion.
He didn't resist it.
Didn't break the spell.
He just smiled faintly.
A little entertainment.
But someone else moved.
Now!
Zatoichi's head dropped.
With a kick, all his chakra surged into the scabbard.
It pulsed, glowing with vibrant energy.
Secret Sword Art: Dream Remnant - Shattered Dawn!
The blade shot out in a blur, his right hand backhanding the strike.
The moment the sword cleared the sheath, a rainbow-like glow erupted.
Like a warrior's most radiant dream, his blade carved a crescent of light across the battlefield.
It stretched over 40 meters, slicing through the air like the horizon itself was splitting.
Click.
The sword returned to its sheath.
Not even a full second passed.
To others, the glow was just a blink—a moment of brilliance.
Zatoichi stood there, slightly trembling, leaning on his sword.
He was gasping, but his expression stayed cold.
Above, the clouds churned.
The sea wind howled in from the coastline.
Creak... creak... click...
BOOM!
Only now did the buildings in the arc of Zatoichi's slash start reacting.
One by one, they collapsed like toppled dominos.
The explosive crashes echoed.
Zatoichi listened.
No blood.
No scream.
He exhaled sharply.
"Not even Shattered Dawn could take him down..."
PFFT.
Finally, the sound of blood hitting the ground.
_______________________________
Word count: 1435
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