Ace's strike wasn't just born from hot-blooded impulse—
he had been moved.
Watching Bartolomeo throw himself into battle for the sake of his comrades,
he saw something noble in that madness.
He didn't care how the fight started or who was right or wrong.
In that moment—Bartolomeo's loyalty was beautiful, even tragic.
"Hm?"
A wave of scorching air swept across the port. Law turned his head—
and saw a comet of flame hurtling straight into his ROOM.
Law drew his blade in an instant, slicing through the fireball.
But Ace had already noticed something—
a flaw in the ROOM's range and endurance.
He stopped outside the sphere, raised both fists, and unleashed a storm.
Fire bullets burst from his knuckles like a Gatling gun, pounding the air in a blazing barrage.
There was no doubt—Ace's battle instinct and intuition were monstrous.
Even more so than Luffy's.
Not an exaggeration—
in his side stories, he'd awakened Conqueror's Haki while rescuing Sabo,
Armament Haki during his fight against a Marine Vice Admiral in the Sabaody Archipelago,
and later, Observation Haki during his time in Wano, where he clashed with Yamato.
Before challenging Whitebeard himself,
he had fought Jinbe for five days and nights.
That battle alone shook the seas.
And then—he fought Whitebeard head-on.
With a single technique—
"Great Flame Commandment: Infernal Hell"—
Ace blanketed an entire island in fire, forcing the world's strongest man to gasp for breath.
And all this…
within a single year of setting sail.
Luffy had two years of training under Rayleigh.
Ace had nothing but the open sea—and his will.
From an unknown rookie in East Blue
to a warrior who could stand before Whitebeard himself—
in just one year.
Even someone like "two-hundred-times-the-effort" Koby
would have to bow his head to that kind of talent.
In short—
Ace was a battle god.
He'd earned his position as Whitebeard's Second Division Commander through pure strength,
his record undisputed.
As for his defeat to Blackbeard later on—
that wasn't weakness.
That was fate.
Teach knew him too well—his personality, his moves, every habit.
He'd studied Ace like prey.
And beyond that, the Dark-Dark Fruit was a perfect counter—
a nightmare for any Devil Fruit user.
And finally—bloodlines.
"You're Roger's son?"
"So what?"
"Teach was Rocks' son."
Once, it took Roger and Garp together to defeat Rocks.
Bloodline against bloodline—Ace never stood a chance.
If he'd had Luffy beside him… maybe.
But alone?
That loss was inevitable.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Fireballs rained like meteors, scorching the streets.
Law frowned, his coat flaring in the heat. "A Logia-type… troublesome."
He realized prolonged ROOM activation was a drain—energy, focus, stamina.
Even for him, the strain was enormous.
He dismissed it, darting through the inferno, closing in for melee.
Their clash ignited the port.
Meanwhile—Reiju and Robin returned from town, arms full of supplies.
When they saw the chaos, they dropped everything and jumped in.
Bartolomeo and his thugs were still alive—barely.
Some missing legs, some missing arms—but still fighting.
"Barrier Ball!"
Realizing he couldn't win, Bartolomeo quickly conjured a spherical barrier, sealing himself and his men inside.
The Barrier-Barrier Fruit's defense was nearly conceptual—absolute.
No external force could break it.
Reiju's poison, Maya's strikes, the Germa soldiers' weapons—none could scratch it.
Bartolomeo sneered, sticking out his tongue like a clown.
"Heh-heh-heh! Can't touch me, can ya? No one in the world can break my barrier!"
Why had his fury vanished so fast?
Simple—he was a gag character.
A brain-dead one at that.
Robin folded her arms, expression unreadable. "So it can't be broken… from the outside?"
"Obviously," Bartolomeo snorted. "We're safe in here, idiot. How would you hit me from outside?"
"Heh-heh-heh!"
Robin's lips curved into a dark smile.
"Then what about… from the inside?"
"Huh? No way—wait, what did you—"
Bartolomeo froze. His eyes widened. "Don't tell me—"
Too late.
Petals fluttered through the air.
From his shoulders, his arms, even his face—
hands bloomed like flowers.
Clench! Twist! Bind!
He was yanked and tied up like a puppet on strings.
Paramecia-type: Flower-Flower Fruit!
Robin could sprout any part of her body onto any surface she could see—
for attack, for spying, for anything.
And since Bartolomeo's barrier was transparent, she could see him perfectly well inside.
The barrier meant nothing.
"Outta the way! Move!"
A rumble echoed down the street—
Smoker's four-wheeled smoke bike tore through the crowd, Marines following behind in formation.
The air filled with grit and shouting.
But just as they neared the port—
BOOM!
The ground split open. Pavement shattered.
A wall of dirt erupted from the street, rising ten meters high, smoothing and hardening like stone.
"What the—?!"
"C-careful!"
Smoker's eyes narrowed. "A Devil Fruit user."
He scanned the rooftops. No sign of the culprit.
"Captain Smoker! What should we do now?"
Tashigi called out, adjusting her glasses nervously.
She looked earnest—but clueless, as always.
"You lead the men around the block. I'll go first."
Smoker's lower half dissolved into white mist as he launched upward, soaring over the wall.
"Yes, sir!"
Tashigi led the troops to circle the street while Smoker flew ahead.
That was the difference between Marines and pirates—
Pirates fought on instinct, following their captain's lead.
If the captain lost, they ran. If he won, they cheered.
The Marines? They fought in structure, formation, discipline.
They could choose when to chase or when to wait.
Pirates were the hunted mice.
Marines—the patient cats.
No matter how fast the mice ran, the cats still got paid.
Smoker soared above the rooftops, smoke billowing behind him.
What he saw below made his jaw tighten.
The streets were painted red—broken stones, shattered glass, the stench of blood.
Two battlefields blazed in chaos.
On one side—flames clashed with steel: Ace and Law locked in a furious duel.
On the other—Robin faced off against Bartolomeo's shimmering barrier.
Smoker didn't recognize Robin.
After eating the Munch-Munch Fruit, Jin's crew could modify their bodies—disguising their faces, slimming or bulking up.
Coupled with outdated bounty posters, it was nearly impossible for Smoker to identify them.
But he did recognize Ace.
That burning fist. That trademark fire.
"Fire Fist… Ace."
"Marines? Smoker?"
Deuce spotted him and froze.
Then glanced back at Ace, still trading blows with Law.
He gritted his teeth and stepped forward.
"Hey, Smoker! Your opponent's me!"
He drew his sword—though a doctor, his swordsmanship wasn't to be underestimated.
He lunged forward, slashing down from above.
"Spade Pirates?" Smoker muttered, blocking with his jitte.
The two clashed with a clang that rang through the square.
Smoker shoved him back, scattering dust, but Deuce rolled and leapt again, determined to stall him.
High above, on a nearby rooftop—
Jin sat comfortably in a chair, legs crossed, a bag of sunflower seeds in hand.
"Ahh… frontline seats. You can't buy this view."
He cracked another seed.
Beside him—an unopened bottle of water, a folded stool, and a wide grin.
The show was just getting started.