Dust billowed as the ground split apart beneath their feet.
Though Dracule Mihawk had managed to deflect the final strike, the sheer force behind Shiki's blow sent him skidding back hundreds of meters, carving two deep trenches into the earth.
As the smoke cleared, Mihawk stood firm.
His hat had been sliced clean in two, and his black hair fluttered freely in the wind.
Aside from a faint rise and fall in his chest, he remained unscathed—unshaken.
High above, the Golden Lion Shiki hovered in midair.
A corner of his cloak had been shorn away by Mihawk's last counter, the torn fabric fluttering down like fading embers.
But more concerning was the island beneath them—crumbling apart.
He had poured too much of his power into Lion's Threat: Imperial Sky Spiral, and now the floating island trembled violently, losing its equilibrium.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface, spreading fast.
Just as the clash reached its breaking point, a sharp voice rang out across the chaos.
"Golden Lion!"
From the distant ridge, Shiro strode forward, eyes locked on the wounded legend above.
"You and my crewmate Mihawk have already fought to a draw. Let this battle end here. Leave now… I won't pursue you."
"Brat—! You dare talk down to me?!"
Shiki's eyes blazed with fury. He roared and raised his twin blades, the air trembling with his killing intent.
"You think this is all the strength I've got left? Don't kid yourself! If you want to test me… then COME!"
Shiro's expression didn't waver. A faint, knowing smirk curved his lips.
"Shiki, don't fool yourself. You've already burned through your stamina. Even if you were at full strength…"
—he stepped forward, eyes glinting with quiet dominance—
"…you still wouldn't stand a chance against me. Take my advice and step down before you regret it."
"Bastard… You arrogant little whelp!"
Veins bulged on Shiki's forehead. His voice rose to a furious snarl.
"When I ruled these seas alongside Gol D. Roger, you weren't even worth the wind in my sails!"
Shiro's smirk vanished. His tone turned cold, his words like a blade.
"Your era ended a long time ago, Golden Lion. Keep chasing ghosts of the past, and I'll end you here and now."
"Fine then!!"
Shiki's voice broke into a mad howl. His eyes, once sharp with pride, were now consumed by raw defiance.
"If I'm going down… I'm taking you with me!"
He launched himself forward—
A dying lion, torn and bloodied, yet roaring still.
Shiro exhaled softly, fingers tightening around the hilt at his waist.
It was time to finish this.
With a smooth, deliberate motion, he drew the Tetanus Blade from its sheath—its steel gleaming with a cold, ghostly light.
Beside him, Mihawk watched in silence.
"Mihawk," Shiro said evenly, eyes never leaving Shiki. "Your role here is done. Stand back. This one's mine."
The world's greatest swordsman inclined his head ever so slightly—a gesture of silent approval.
With a single leap, Mihawk retreated across the fractured battlefield, perching atop a distant rock formation to bear witness to the final act.
Then—
A wave of raw Conqueror's Haki burst from Shiro's body.
The air cracked like glass.
Black lightning snaked across the battlefield, tearing the sky open.
At the same time, Armament Haki surged down his arms, coating the Blade of Tetanus in an obsidian sheen.
His pupils flashed crimson as Observation Haki sharpened to its peak—visions of the future flickering in his mind like shards of light.
He could already see every breath, every twitch of muscle from Shiki's battered form.
There would be no surprises.
As the Golden Lion came crashing down, both blades raised high—
Shiro moved.
His feet struck the ground with explosive force.
The next instant, he was in front of Shiki, blade poised low.
"Aramitama!"
T/N: Means, Fierce Divine Spirit
A single flash of red-black light cleaved through the chaos.
The Blade of Tetanus tore through the air, tracing the arc of a crescent moon.
For a moment, time stood still.
Shiki's eyes widened.
His twin swords hung frozen in the air.
A thin line of blood traced across his lips as he struggled to form words.
Shiro held his stance, blade extended.
The storm around them quieted. Only the faint hum of dissipating Haki lingered.
Few knew this secret—
Aramitama, the "Divine Spirit."
A technique Shiro had inherited from the Pirate King himself.
Its power rivaled Roger's fabled "Divine Departure," but its true terror lay in its nature—
a strike that cut not just flesh, but the soul itself.
Against a weary, broken Shiki, even a lion could not roar.
"Y-you… unbelievable…"
The words left Shiki's throat as a whisper, his body trembling.
He looked at Shiro, eyes filled with disbelief—and a trace of admiration.
"Don't be surprised," Shiro said quietly, sliding his blade back into its sheath.
The soft click of steel echoed across the ruined island.
"You've long since fallen from your peak. You've fought for hours. This was inevitable."
He turned slightly, voice hardening.
"You lived your life steeped in blood. You left a trail of death and sorrow across these seas. This end—"
he looked down at the dying legend—
"…is the justice you earned."
For a moment, silence. Then—
Shiki laughed.
A low, rasping laugh that grew louder, richer, until it echoed like thunder.
"Gahahaha… You're right, brat! I've killed, I've plundered, I've spilled more blood than I can count… What right did I ever have to dream of a happy end?"
He looked at Shiro one last time, and for an instant, his eyes gleamed with respect.
"That fire in you… it's just like Roger's…"
His laughter filled the skies—wild, defiant, and strangely free.
Then, mid-laugh, blood burst from his lips.
A crimson mist scattered into the wind.
His body split from the waist down—
and the Golden Lion Shiki, one of the three titans who once shook the seas alongside Roger and Whitebeard,
fell.
His legend ended where it began—
in battle.
T/N: If you would like to read up to 20 chapters ahead for all my works, check out my P@treon: patreon.com/GhidorahWriter
Thanks for reading! Be sure to collect and vote for more chapters! A Bonus Chapter will be released once we hit 25 Powerstones!