"Accept my judgment, Ashveil! I will take you and your entire Whitebeard Pirates down!" Sword Saint Bickley roared from the sky. His Holy Sword gleamed with blinding light, growing ever brighter as he unleashed a strike aimed at Ashveil and the others below.
Buzz!
A tremendous aura surged outward instantly. A dazzling slash, ten thousand meters in length, appeared out of thin air, tearing through the horizon.
The Whitebeard Pirates looked up in terror.
"Good heavens… an attack of this magnitude rivals Ashveil's strike during the United Army's great war!" Donquixote Doflamingo muttered, veins bulging on his forehead. Just months ago, he had considered himself a formidable Shichibukai. Now, facing such power, he realized he was little more than a minor character.
Marco's eyes widened. Could the Zero Division Captain withstand such a strike? Even he doubted it.
Empress Hancock clasped her hands, praying silently. Ashveil's previous foes had been effortlessly defeated, but this Sword Saint seemed different. Sword Saint Bickley was a warrior on Ashveil's level, perhaps the only one capable of truly challenging him.
" Ashveil-kun, survive this!" Hancock murmured, her eyes filled with worry.
Whitebeard's expression was equally grave. In this battle, they weren't just fighting another foe—they were confronting the true strength of the Celestial Dragons' enforcers. The prior battles Ashveil had faced were nothing more than skirmishes against the Celestial Dragons' pawns.
Ashveil's eyes flickered, a hint of surprise crossing his face. "Looks like this Sword Saint is truly enraged by me…" he muttered with a shake of his head.
Then, Golden Conqueror's Haki reappeared, denser than before. Unlike the previous thin mist, it now formed a solid, radiant barrier, as thick and impenetrable as a city wall built from golden bricks.
The shield didn't just protect Ashveil—it enveloped all nearby Whitebeard Pirates.
Boom!
The overwhelming force of Bickley's strike collided with the Golden Conqueror's Haki. Energy surged wildly along the barrier before rushing harmlessly into the sea, causing massive turbulence, explosions, and waves, yet leaving everyone behind the Haki shield completely unharmed.
"No way…" Doflamingo swallowed hard.
Unlike previous attacks, this strike rivaled Ashveil's own peak strength. The barrier had not only withstood it, but it had channeled all that energy safely away.
The secret, they realized, wasn't the Sword Saint's power—it was that Ashveil had grown stronger.
In such a short span, he had taken another step forward. Where others would hit a ceiling, Ashveil had shattered it. Watching him, everyone understood: no one else could achieve such rapid growth.
"This kid… he's terrifying. I didn't expect him to evolve so quickly," murmured Whitebeard, a hint of envy in his voice. Even he, the strongest man alive, could not replicate such progress so swiftly.
Sword Saint Bickley's eyes widened at the sight. "Golden Conqueror's Haki… this kid's Golden Conqueror's Haki is incredibly dense!"
He knew the cost of wielding such a Haki. Even a master like him would find it exhausting, dozens of times more taxing than ordinary Conqueror's Haki. And yet, Ashveil had condensed it into a solid, brick-like defense without hesitation.
Bickley's astonishment deepened. Could Ashveil be so careless with his Golden Conqueror's Haki? Or was this merely an act?
The Sword Saint refused to believe it. No, Ashveil could not casually wield such immense power—he must be putting on a show.
But even as he reasoned this, the truth was undeniable: Ashveil had just survived a strike that should have obliterated him, and the battlefield had irrevocably shifted.
A tense silence fell over the ocean. Waves crashed violently against the rocks below, yet not a single Whitebeard Pirate had been harmed. Even the seagulls circling above seemed to pause, as if acknowledging the raw, untamed power radiating from Ashveil.
From the ship decks, crewmates exchanged glances, a mixture of awe and fear painted across their faces. They had trained under Whitebeard, they had fought countless battles, yet none of them had witnessed anything like this. Ashveil was no longer just a prodigy—he was a force of nature, a living storm that defied expectations.
Sword Saint Bickley gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on his Holy Sword. His aura flared even more intensely, but inside, doubt gnawed at him. Could he, a warrior of legendary status, truly pierce a defense forged from pure will and untold growth?
Every fiber of his being screamed to attack again, to overwhelm Ashveil before the young pirate could unleash more of his potential. Yet in his heart, a silent fear took root. This battle was no longer about victory—it was about survival.
And somewhere in the depths of Ashveil's eyes, a calm, resolute fire burned, ready to face whatever the Sword Saint would throw next. The war above the waves had only just begun.