"Not bad… at least you've got some determination to die," said Tiberion with a mocking tone, kicking Rakuyo's lifeless body without even looking at it.
The corpse flew through the air, slammed into a pillar, and fell to the ground. Blood was still splattering when Tiberion turned his attention back to Vista.
"I heard your swordsmanship rivals that of Mihawk himself… the strongest swordsman in the world." He paused briefly and slowly raised his right fist, as if presenting a sacred relic. "But tell me, can you cut this?"
"The bones in my body are over seven hundred times harder than the strongest steel," he stated confidently. "There's no blade in this world that can cut them… and even less so if I don't use my Armament Haki."
Tiberion stopped in front of Vista.
Even though he was a head shorter than the mustached swordsman, his presence overwhelmingly surpassed his. It was as if his very existence distorted space.
"And if I do manage to cut them?" Vista asked coldly. His face showed no emotion, but his aura sharpened noticeably.
Even if it was hard to believe a human could have bones harder than steel, he couldn't allow himself to be mocked. He was one of Whitebeard's commanders. And more than that—he was a swordsman.
Tiberion laughed uncontrollably, as if someone had just told him the best joke in the world.
"Bahahahaha! There's no way you'll manage it! My fist surpasses any weapon made by man! I could even stop a direct shot from Pluton without a single scratch!"
The name "Pluton" didn't mean much to Vista, since he didn't recognize it. To him, it was just another arrogant word. What he did feel, for the first time in years, was such absolute disdain that it chilled his blood.
"A warrior of your level… mocking an opponent who's facing you head-on?" he asked softly, not raising his voice, yet it carried the force of a sword about to be unsheathed. "You don't have the spirit of a true warrior."
Tiberion's smile vanished instantly, and his gaze turned ice-cold.
"It doesn't matter whether you manage to cut me or not…" he said, his tone much darker now, "Let me make one thing clear: I'll allow half of you to leave this island… but only because I want to."
"Not even the Marines hiding around here can go against my will."
Vista furrowed his brow. Marines in hiding? Was the World Government also involved in this?
Things were getting even more complicated.
Still, he didn't lower his swords. He was a skilled fighter. And knowing every advantage must be used, he pushed a bit further:
"Then tell me, Tiberion Hanma… if I do manage to cut you, what will you do?"
Tiberion let out a dry snort, and that familiar look of annoyance returned to his face.
"Hmph… you're starting to piss me off."
And in the very next instant—
He vanished!
A sonic boom erupted around him, and a second later, he was right in front of André, another member of the Whitebeard crew.
André barely had time to open his eyes before he felt a hand wrap around his throat.
Tiberion lifted him like a toy.
Crack
With a sharp twist of the wrist, the man's neck snapped.
André died instantly, eyes wide open, not even understanding what had happened.
Tiberion dropped the corpse like a piece of trash, letting it fall to the ground in front of Vista with a dull thud. Then he locked his burning gaze onto him.
"You…!"
Whitey Bay's voice—normally firm—cracked.
"LET'S KILL HIM!" he roared, completely losing his composure. The rage over the deaths of so many brothers burned in his chest.
Beside him, Epoida raised his double spear, determined to risk his life if it meant stopping that demon. Without a word—only a glance—the other captains understood. All of them were ready to charge, even if the cost was death.
But then…
"STOP! Don't be reckless!" Vista raised his voice powerfully, and his tone wasn't a command—it was a plea.
"Don't you get it yet? EVEN IF WE ALL ATTACK TOGETHER, WE WON'T BE ABLE TO DEFEAT HIM!"
Pain and frustration were etched across his face. He knew Tiberion's strength already far surpassed anything they could handle. And while he was willing to give it his all, he wouldn't allow his brothers to fall like lambs while he watched helplessly.
Everyone fell silent. The rage was still there, yes—but it was no longer blind. They had seen Rakuyo, André, Curiel… die. And they knew Vista wasn't speaking out of weakness, but out of common sense.
"That's more like it…" Tiberion snorted. "You come from so far to provoke me, to ruin my wedding, and now that you realize you can't kill me… don't you think you should be grateful that I'm at least giving half of you a chance to live?"
His tone wasn't arrogant. It was pure, unfiltered disdain. As if he weren't facing the commanders of the world's greatest pirate fleet, but a group of talentless wannabes.
"Let's begin…" Vista muttered as he stepped forward.
"I'll give it everything I've got. I'm one of the strongest swordsmen in the world," he added firmly. "But I need to be clear: I'm not one of the supreme greats. I'm not the best."
He admitted it without shame—because that too was part of his strength. He knew his own limits.
But even so… he didn't plan to fall without leaving a mark.
He knew he could lose. He accepted it. But he wouldn't let Tiberion leave without remembering that here, standing before him, there was a man who gave everything—for his sword, for his pride, for the fallen.
"As long as there's a true swordsman in this world, you, Tiberion Hanma, will never be able to trample over us completely…" he whispered to himself, eyes closed, focusing every fiber of his body.
Tiberion smiled, and his muscles tensed again.
"Relax," he said with ironic calm, "To deal with rookies like you… I haven't even used half of my true power."
And that was true.
His system confirmed it: his embodiment of Yujiro Hanma had only reached 45%. He hadn't even tapped into half of his real strength and potential.
!
Vista felt a chill run down his spine.
If that was true…
Then there was probably no one in this world capable of standing against him. Not Kaido. Not Big Mom. Not even his own father… Maybe not even all the Yonkō together.
"…"
Despite all these thoughts, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He entered his flow state. The peak of swordsmanship concentration. He thought of nothing else. Only his sword. Its edge. His breathing.
There was no room for doubt.
Because if he failed…
He would die without even scratching that monster.
Despite his reputation as Mihawk's rival, he knew the truth: if Mihawk unleashed his full power in a single slash, he would fall immediately.
And Tiberion… wasn't a swordsman.
He was something far more dangerous.
A monster whose bones, according to his own words, were over seven hundred times harder than steel.
How was he supposed to cut him…?
He didn't know.
But if there was even the slightest chance—a moment of miracle—it could only be reached here. In this absolute present.
With his eyes closed, Vista controlled his breathing. Each inhale was deeper, slower. He was immersed in the deepest core of the sword meditation state, a technique only true masters could reach. In that state, there was no anger, no fear, no pride.
Only his sword… and his will.
Three breaths later, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.
Vista's aura became sharper than a brand-new razor, so powerful that even the air around him seemed to avoid him. His swords, now fully coated in Armament Haki, shone with a dark gleam. They were an extension of his soul. His spirit had been shaped through countless battles, and now… he was about to reach the limit.
At the exact moment the blades crossed in front of his face, the surroundings distorted—as if reality itself were doubting its own existence.
The light shattered in flickers, switching between day and night, as if time were collapsing in on itself.
And then, he unleashed his slash.
It was a crossed strike, sharp like divine judgment, that advanced like twin destructive forces descending from the heavens.
Whitey Bay felt her hat almost fly off from the violence of the wind and stepped back immediately. Epoida squinted, shielding himself instinctively, and everyone else couldn't even look straight ahead. They covered their faces with their arms, stunned, barely understanding what they had just witnessed.
"That's…!" a pirate muttered. "That's Vista's true power!"
But that excitement was quickly replaced by anxiety.
Because before such a technique…
Tiberion hadn't moved an inch.
In fact, he just smiled.
And then, with the same calmness, he channeled all his power into his right arm. Every muscle fiber contracted and creaked, steam began to pour from his skin. His fist burned so intensely it wasn't just radiating heat—it was producing real flames.
It was like watching a living furnace on the verge of eruption.
And then, it happened.
With a dry roar, he threw his punch directly at the crossed slash—like he was swatting away an annoying fly.
Booooom
An indescribable sound exploded. It was more than an explosion… it was like the birth of a star.
The banquet hall was obliterated.
Nothing was left standing… everything was pulverized instantly. The shockwave swept across the entire Fish-Man Island. Even the massive protective bubble surrounding it trembled violently, as if it could burst at any moment.
The sky quaked.
Thousands of fish-men across the island raised their hands to shield their eyes. Despite the fear, they couldn't stop watching.
There, where the Banquet Hall had once stood—now reduced to rubble—Tiberion and Vista were still clashing in the center of the disaster.
Glup…"
"M-My God… how terrifying! Lord Tiberion is… he's only using his fist!"
"Yes! And his fist is on fire!! Did you see it?! He even set Lord Vista's swords ablaze!"
"What the hell is that?! That's not ordinary fire! That… that's pure force!"
"He's unbelievably, fucking strong!"
Tiberion kept walking forward, his body covered in blazing steam, his fist still wrapped in flames.
Down below, among the spectators in the safe zones:
Tokikake, with a rigid face, could barely utter a single word. His expression was one of complete disbelief.
"…"
Gion, beside him, had her lips tightly pressed together.
"…"
The Whitebeard Pirates—some still in combat stance, others frozen in place like statues—remained silent as well.
Each of them had the same question in their minds.
How could his fist be on fire..?
One of the pirates murmured under his breath.
"Is this guy… a Devil Fruit user?"
"The Mera Mera no Mi? Wasn't that Fire Fist Ace's fruit?"
"He's dead, right? So this… this monster… ate it?"
"That can't be! It makes no sense!"
________
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