The surrounding crowd was stunned. Everyone knew Ashveil, whose attacks could devastate entire groups with ease, yet here he was, blocked so effortlessly by a single opponent.
Diamond Jozu's face displayed disbelief.
"No way… Ashveil's attack couldn't even penetrate the Sword Saint's defense?"
Marco's expression mirrored Jozu's shock. Logically, no one in this world should have withstood an attack infused with Ashveil's Conqueror's Haki and Rumble-Rumble Fruit power. Yet Bickley had done so.
Hawkeye Mihawk's eyes narrowed as he studied the radiant glow of Bickley's Holy Sword.
"It must be linked to that sword… its power is extraordinary," he said, assessing the origin of Bickley's defensive technique.
Whitebeard also studied the Sword Saint thoughtfully. His expression showed the rare respect reserved for genuine mastery.
Ashveil's Haoshoku-infused punch, amplified by his Rumble-Rumble powers, had been blocked without leaving a ripple, as if it had never struck.
"Defensive power above mine?" Ashveil remarked, rolling his eyes, calm and unshaken.
"You'll have to prove it first."
Purple lightning surged from the sky, attacking Bickley from all sides. His face twisted in pain. The Holy Sword could only defend in a single direction. To counter attacks from multiple angles, he had to rely solely on Armament Haki.
Even with his body fully blackened in Haki, the concentrated assault from Ashveil pierced through. Bickley's skeleton-like form appeared beneath the pressure, sizzling as his agonized cries echoed across the battlefield.
The onlookers rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Moments ago, it had seemed Bickley held the upper hand. Now, the tide had shifted entirely. Ashveil's tactical restraint had revealed the Sword Saint's weakness, exposing him to a devastating counterattack.
Ashveil stood, indifferent, observing Bickley convulsing from the Haki-charged strike.
"Not bad, but your strength isn't as great as you think. And that shield… it's tied to your sword, isn't it?"
Bickley, battered and twitching, looked up. A ferocious, elder voice then rang out across the battlefield.
"Hahaha! As expected of you, Ashveil. You're worthy of being my opponent…"
Everyone froze. The Sword Saint who had been lying nearly lifeless moments before now stood, purple blood streaking his body, fangs bared, exuding raw ferocity.
"This… is the Sword Saint?" Marco whispered, shocked.
"Monster…" Jozu muttered, gripping his weapon tightly.
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed as he assessed the transformation.
"That is indeed Sword Saint Bickley."
The revelation triggered memories of Pirate King Roger. Years ago, Roger had confided that the Celestial Dragons were not divine beings, but a lineage with dark, corrupt bloodlines. He had warned that their pride and influence hid true malice.
Looking at Bickley's distorted, furious form, Whitebeard now fully understood.
"The true face of the Celestial Dragons… it is revolting," he muttered, his disgust mirrored by Empress Hancock. Even her already low opinion of the Celestial Dragons deepened at this revelation.
Ashveil, taken aback but maintaining his composure, waved a hand dramatically.
"Hey, hey, you may be strong, but you're not scaring me. And that face… change it back! You're making me laugh," he said with mock exasperation.
Bickley's pride flared. Humiliated, he drew his Holy Sword once more.
"Kid, I'll show you my true strength now! I'll prove who is truly weak!"
With a powerful leap, the ground beneath Ashveil's dormitory cracked, trembling from the recoil. Bickley soared into the sky, his Holy Sword blazing, illuminating the entire island. A fearsome aura spread outward, startling the wildlife and shaking the surrounding seas.
The battlefield had changed. Sword Saint Bickley had shed his restraint, and now, the fight promised to be legendary.
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