Doflamingo's cruel grin widened, and the very air around him seemed to hum with a strange power, stirring the surrounding clouds.
Under the influence of his awakened ability, the once-fluffy clouds began to stretch and thin, growing delicate and soft, as if manipulated by some mysterious, arcane force.
They eventually transformed into countless strands of ethereal, white threads.
The moment these threads appeared, they surged like a silent ocean tide, swirling and dancing around him in a sea of silk that dyed the entire sky in a dreamlike, pearlescent hue.
As time passed, more and more clouds succumbed to this bizarre transformation, turning into increasingly refined and numerous threads.
It was breathtakingly beautiful, and utterly terrifying.
Witnessing this, Shiki's pupils contracted sharply, his heart filled with a profound disbelief and a jolt of pure shock.
'What kind of joke is this?' he thought, his mind reeling.
'This random young bastard I run into in the middle of nowhere turns out to be an awakened Devil Fruit user?!'
This phenomenon—where the environment itself was directly influenced and transformed into the user's ability—was the unmistakable, legendary hallmark of a Devil Fruit Awakening.
At this realization, Shiki's expression darkened with a new gravity, but he showed no intention of retreating.
On the contrary, a fierce, almost forgotten battle lust surged from the depths of his heart.
This was no longer just a nuisance; it was a real fight.
"Hmph, you little brat," Shiki sneered, his voice dripping with a mix of disdain and genuine excitement.
"You think you can show off in front of me with just this much skill? How laughably naive!"
Before his words even faded, the two gleaming longswords that served as his legs, Oto and Kogarashi, suddenly lifted off the ground before being kicked forward with tremendous, explosive force.
In an instant, countless golden, crescent-shaped slashes erupted from the blades, each one carrying enough power to split mountains or cleave massive waves with contemptuous ease.
"Lion Art: Thousand Slashing Valleys!"
With a furious roar, this overwhelming assault of golden blades shot straight toward Doflamingo, aiming to shred him and his web of threads to pieces with unstoppable force.
Doflamingo's lips merely curled into a cold smirk, his eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses, gleaming with the light of impending victory.
With a mere thought, the countless threads behind him began to converge, as if summoned by some higher power, automatically splitting and weaving themselves into sixteen distinct, deadly clusters.
Each cluster of threads writhed like a living creature, coiling together and solidifying into a razor-sharp, glistening spear.
A silent, black sheen of Armament Haki coated each spearhead, sharpening them further and making them exude an oppressive, suffocating aura.
"Sixteen Holy Bullets: God Threads!" Doflamingo bellowed, thrusting his hands forward.
BOOM!
With a deafening explosion, the sixteen spears of divine thread collided violently with the incoming storm of Sword slash.
Shiki's golden slashes shattered against the Haki-infused spears, and the spears themselves were severed by the legendary swordsman's power—but the remaining projectiles, a swarm of deadly white needles, continued their deadly charge straight toward Shiki.
Their speed was so immense that their trajectories were almost invisible, leaving only shimmering, rainbow-colored afterimages as they pierced through the air.
"What!?" Shiki barely had time to react, his eyes wide with shock.
He dodged frantically, kicking his sword-legs in a desperate dance, sending out more waves of Sword Slash in an attempt to block the relentless barrage.
"Slash Wave!" he roared, his attacks filling the air.
But these thread-spears seemed to have eyes, attacking from every possible angle, relentlessly hounding him.
"Cut them! Cut them all!" Shiki roared continuously, but he was clearly exhausted, using every last ounce of his strength.
The spears clung to him like maggots to bone, draining his stamina with each passing moment.
....
Just then, as their epic battle raged, a distant roar echoed across the sky.
Colossal figures were approaching at breakneck speed.
As they drew closer, it became clear—these were the nine massive dragons of the Whitebeard Pirates, returning from Marineford.
"Ron, your decision to retreat was the right one," Marco said wearily, glancing at the massive, sleeping form of Whitebeards on another dragon's back.
His voice carried both admiration for Ron's strategic mind and a quiet anticipation for the future.
"After this battle, many of our crew are injured, and we've seized plenty of resources. We can finally focus on rebuilding for a while."
Ron nodded, his gaze firm as he looked ahead into the empty sky.
He knew that despite their victory, the cost had been heavy.
"Yeah," he said, frowning as he glanced at Whitebeard. "Let's head back to Sky Island and let everyone regroup. Our plans for Kaido can wait. Who would've thought the Captain would exhaust himself this badly?"
Jozu scratched his head as he was equally puzzled.
"Yeah, why did Pops push himself so hard? Even if he managed to take out those old bastards, dying once to do it just wouldn't be worth it."
The careless, off-hand remark instantly caught the attention of Ron and Marco.
It was like a bolt of lightning splitting the night sky, sending a horrifying ripple through their hearts.
"Right!" Ron and Marco exclaimed almost simultaneously, a sudden, cold dread washing over them.
"Ron, you figured it out too?" Marco asked, his voice now laced with a new, dawning horror.
Ron nodded, his expression grave.
"Maybe Captain… maybe he really is thinking that way. He might actually have been planning to die once back there."
"Pops is too reckless," Marco said, his voice dropping to a fearful whisper.
"If he really dies and revives in front of so many people, especially the top brass of the Marines, the consequences would be unthinkable…"
Ace, overhearing their hushed, frantic conversation, frowned.
"Is it really that bad?"
Ron shook his head, his face grim. "Think about it, Ace. At that time, all of us were there. If even one of us was captured, the Captain wouldn't stand by and do nothing."
"That's exactly the leverage the Marines would have over us," Marco added, turning to Ace.
"If Pops really died and came back to life in front of everyone, the World Government would never, ever stay idle. They would see him not as a man, but as a phenomenon to be captured and studied at all costs."
"The Marines would launch an all-out assault," Ron concluded, his voice low and serious.
"They'd never let a single one of us escape. They would hunt us to the ends of the earth to get to him. At that time, a true, world-ending battle of life and death would erupt, one we might not win."
Just as the weight of this horrifying possibility settled over them, Jozu suddenly exclaimed, breaking the grim silence.
"Hey, Ron! It looks like there's a fight up ahead!"
The others quickly turned, their minds still reeling.
After all, they were flying thousands of feet in the open sky.
Encountering anything up here was utterly bizarre.
Everyone turned their heads to look in the direction Jozu was pointing.
"Huh? There really are two people fighting!" Squard said in surprise.
"Ron, should we go check it out?" Kingdew suggested, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
However, as their nine-dragon formation approached, they noticed the two figures in the distance seemed to have stopped fighting.
"They've spotted us," another commander muttered in confusion.
"Why aren't they fighting anymore?"