Magma streamed from Sakazuki's shoulder down to his wrist.
The dark-red, viscous liquid dripped onto the stone bricks beneath the execution platform, instantly etching charred craters into the ground.
He didn't waste words. Shinju's group had to die—justice would not allow any uncertain factor to live.
Sakazuki's right arm swelled. Scalding magma compressed and stacked, forming a gigantic molten iron fist.
Heatwaves warped the light around the fist—this was enough to erase half a town.
The massive magma fist, wrapped in black smoke, surged straight for Shinju's face.
Before the temperature even arrived, the heat radiation had already scorched the air ahead.
Shinju stood in place. He didn't dodge.
Data streamed wildly across his retina. The system panel popped up a command:
Summon Senju Tobirama.
Space hiccupped with a brief sense of displacement, and a figure in blue armor cut into the battlefield out of thin air.
The instant Tobirama landed, his hands had already completed the seals.
Chakra roared through established pathways at extreme speed, forcibly gathering moisture from the air.
High-pressure water surged from Tobirama's palm. Chakra reshaped the water's form and properties.
The stream compressed violently in his hand, becoming a spear—and began spinning at high speed in his palm.
Water Style: Hard Whirlpool Water Blade.
Tobirama stepped forward and thrust the water spear straight into the oncoming magma fist. The difference in size was absurd.
Akainu's magma fist was the size of a house. Tobirama's water blade was only as thick as an arm.
They collided.
Sakazuki's brow furrowed. He felt resistance.
Normally, even a simple "Great Eruption" would blast through flames, even vaporize ordinary water.
But this was different.
The water in the man's hand was rotating at insane speed, centrifugal force flung out pressure that shredded the magma's surface layer.
When magma met a sustained torrent of high-pressure cold water, its physical state would shift drastically—cooling and solidifying.
Sakazuki's supposedly unstoppable molten fist turned gray-black at the leading edge of the contact point, becoming volcanic rock.
The Hard Vortex Water Blade kept spinning, water feeding endlessly.
That gray-black solid layer crawled up Sakazuki's arm in an instant.
Akainu tried to increase the magma output to overwhelm him—then realized, to his shock, he couldn't.
Sakazuki's movement stiffened.
Tobirama released his grip. The water blade detonated.
The massive water pressure burst at point-blank range, instantly shattering the volcanic rock that had just solidified.
Sakazuki was blown off his feet, slammed hard into the harbor wall behind him.
Rubble exploded. Dust rolled.
When it cleared, Sakazuki rose from the broken stone.
He glanced at his right arm—his magma form had been forcibly canceled.
His sleeve was completely shredded. Water-cut wounds covered his skin, blood streaming.
Sakazuki stared at the white-haired man ahead.
"Magma?"
Tobirama flicked the water off his hands.
He looked at the Navy admiral, tone flat.
"Against the Water Style I created… it's just a pile of smoking stones."
From behind, Shinju watched. The system's analysis had already been transmitted to Tobirama.
The Magma Fruit was a Logia with extreme heat and brutal physical power.
Its weakness was simple: at its core, it was still matter.
If you cooled it fast enough—and hit it with enough force—you could beat it back into its original state.
Tobirama was a Water Style grandmaster.
The Water Style he developed was never meant to look pretty.
It was made to kill—built for war, built to counter Uchiha Fire Style on the battlefield.
Logia users in the pirate world relied too heavily on elementalization, ignoring the kind of micro-level manipulation that chakra nature transformation allowed.
Akainu's face darkened. Magma seeped again from his wounds as he tried to regenerate.
Tobirama didn't give him room to breathe. His hands formed seals again.
Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu (Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu).
This time, he didn't need a water source.
Moisture in the air was forcibly condensed into a massive roaring water dragon that slammed toward Akainu.
On the other side of the battlefield—
Kuzan watched Akainu take a beating and scratched his head.
That white-haired man's water was strange.
Not seawater.
Seawater carried salt and impurities, but the water he produced was unbelievably pure—and infused with a peculiar energy.
If water could suppress magma…
Then what about ice?
Kuzan exhaled a breath of white mist. Cold spread from beneath his feet.
Ice Age!
White frost swept across the sea at terrifying speed, locking the waves solid, then creeping along the ground and invading the harbor's interior.
His target was Whitebeard's Moby Dick, and the man standing on the bow—
Madara.
If you froze molecular motion, everything stopped.
Absolute low temperature.
Ice crawled to Madara's feet. Kuzan intended to freeze this man—body and soul.
Madara glanced down at the frost.
He didn't form seals.
In his red eyes, the tomoe spun madly, finally locking into a complex geometric pattern.
Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.
A black flame appeared on the ice—burning in empty air, as if it had always been there.
Kuzan didn't care at first.
Fire melts ice. Common sense.
But his ice wasn't ordinary ice.
This was cold enough to freeze the sea itself.
Normal flames would die the instant they touched such a temperature.
Kuzan increased his cold output.
More frost rushed in, trying to smother the black fire.
He tried to freeze the fire—
And something absurd happened.
The black flames didn't go out.
Instead, they treated the ice like fuel.
Black fire spread wildly along the frozen surface.
The ice was burning.
It shattered Kuzan's understanding—what kind of fire used ice as kindling?
The black flames grew stronger, surging upstream along the path of Ice Age, charging straight toward Kuzan's real body.
Kuzan had to retreat.
He raised a hand and fired two ice spears.
The spears vanished the moment they entered the black flames.
Not even steam had time to form—everything was devoured.
Could this fire not be extinguished?
As long as the target wasn't completely burned away, it would never stop.
Madara stood still, arms crossed.
Deep blue ribs of Susanoo surfaced around his body, deflecting stray bullets.
He looked at Kuzan, who kept backing away.
"So this is the strongest in this world?"
"Too slow."
The black flames surged, forming a black fire dragon that sealed off every escape route around Kuzan.
Kuzan elementalized instantly, his body scattering into shards of ice.
He re-formed dozens of meters away—
But his left shoulder was missing a chunk of flesh.
That part had been burned away by the black flames.
Even elementalization couldn't avoid that damage.
Kuzan's expression changed. His lazy indifference vanished, replaced by focus as he stared at the black fire still burning quietly on the ice.
Shinju's voice sounded inside Madara's mind.
"That's the Ice Fruit. It produces extreme cold. Amaterasu's trait is to burn everything—even the flames themselves. In terms of attributes, you're his absolute nemesis."
Madara let out a cold laugh.
"Nemesis?"
"I don't need something like that."
"That's an excuse for the weak."
"I'm simply stronger than him."
Madara stepped forward.
Susanoo grew—bones coated with chakra pathways, pathways wrapped in flesh, then armored in an u tengu's plated form.
A massive blue chakra giant rose into the sky.
Two curved longswords formed in its hands.
On the blades, black Amaterasu flames raged—
Flame Control.
Madara controlled the flames' shape, binding them to weapons.
A slash like this wasn't just physical.
It was a curse that could never be put out.
Kuzan felt crushing pressure. He tried to form ice defenses—
Ice Block: Two Thorn Spears.
He condensed all his cold, trying to forge the hardest ice shield possible.
The black-flame sword came down.
The shield shattered.
Kuzan forcibly severed half his body that had been ignited, then used elementalization to reconstruct himself at a distance—
But it drained him heavily.
Two admirals.
Crushed.
On the execution platform, Fleet Admiral Sengoku clenched his fist.
The situation was out of control.
He'd believed the three admirals could stabilize everything.
He never expected the enemy's matchups to be this brutally targeted.
Where was Kizaru?
Borsalino was pinned by another force in the sky and couldn't provide support.
Sengoku looked toward the Seven Warlords' area.
Those bastards were watching the show.
Sengoku roared into the Den Den Mushi.
"Warlords! Fulfill your agreement!"
Doflamingo stood up.
"Fufufufufu…"
He let out a bizarre laugh.
"What a wonderful performance."
"Even the admirals look this pathetic… the Navy's face is about to fall off."
He mocked them—yet he still moved.
Invisible threads cut through the air.
And Mihawk drew the black blade from his back.
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!]
[[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]