The dust and despair hung heavy. Isshin Ashina, lone and bleeding, braced himself. Crocodile, Byrnndi World, and Weevil advanced, a trinity of impending doom.
"Your time is up, Samurai," Crocodile's voice was a dry rasp, sand swirling like a shroud around his golden hook as he raised it for the killing blow.
On his knees, vision swimming in red, Gunnar watched. Isshin… the man who had shown them the heart of Ashina, who had entrusted them with its last hope… was about to die. The faces of the Hino villagers flashed in his mind – the terrified woman, the defiant boy, their pleas, their hopes pinned on this desperate gamble. Ace, unconscious, his flames snuffed out… It couldn't end like this.
"I… I WILL NOT LET THIS HAPPEN!"
The thought was a supernova in his fracturing consciousness. Pain was irrelevant. Survival was secondary. Protection… that was everything. His good hand, caked in dirt and his own blood, clenched into a fist. A black fire ignited within, not the molten fury of his Devil Fruit, but something deeper, harder, an unyielding will forged in the crucible of despair.
Blackness, like polished obsidian, crawled up his knuckles, over his wrist, encasing his forearm in a dense, powerful sheen. The magma and ice that usually swirled around him seemed to condense, drawing into this new, unyielding armor.
Crocodile's hook, glinting with malice, descended upon Isshin.
CLANG-KRAKOOOOM!
A sound like mountains colliding. Sparks erupted in a blinding shower. Crocodile was violently thrown back several paces, his hook arm vibrating, eyes wide with disbelief.
"What—?!"
Between him and Isshin stood Gunnar. He swayed, every muscle screaming, his injured side a burning agony, but he stood. His right arm, now an ebon gauntlet of raw power, smoked where it had met Crocodile's hook. The magma within pulsed with a focused intensity, the ice forming jagged, unbreakable crystals along the Haki's edge.
"You…" Gunnar's voice was a guttural earthquake, resonating with this newfound force. "…will not… TOUCH HIM!"
Byrnndi World, momentarily stunned by Gunnar's impossible intervention, scowled. "Pesky flies just keep getting back up! Annoying! Annoying! Time to squash the other one for good!" He hefted a massive, twisted girder, a piece of the destroyed castle wall, and with a roar of "MOA MOA – FIFTY TIMES CRUSH!" he swung it like a colossal bat towards Ace, who was just beginning to stir, groaning.
Ace's head throbbed. The world was a painful, disorienting blur. He tried to push himself up, his limbs heavy as lead. The roar of World's attack barely registered through the fog of pain.
Then, a flash. Not of light, but of sensation. An electrifying premonition seared through his mind: the girder screaming through the air, the crushing impact, the blackness. It wasn't a thought; it was a visceral knowing. His mind, his very soul, shrieked a warning.
MOVE!
Pure instinct, unbidden and desperate, took over. With a weak, sputtering burst of flame from his heels – barely enough to lift a feather – Ace threw himself into a clumsy, rolling evasion.
CRUUUUNCH-BOOM!
The girder obliterated the spot where he'd lain a microsecond before, stone vaporizing into dust. Ace, panting heavily, stared at the devastation, then at his own hands.
"What… what was that?" he whispered, his heart hammering. He'd seen it. Felt it before it happened. For a fleeting moment, the chaotic battlefield around him had seemed to slow, every movement telegraphed, every threat highlighted.
Byrnndi World blinked, his grotesque features contorted in surprise. "Hmph. Lucky dodge, brat! You won't be so lucky next time!"
Isshin Ashina, witnessing both awakenings, felt a surge of fierce pride and desperate hope. The fire in his own weary eyes rekindled. "So," he declared, a grim smile touching his lips, "Good! VERY GOOD!" He pushed himself straighter, his katana humming faintly with his own Haki. "Then let us show these invaders how warriors of this land truly fight!"
The air crackled anew. The three-on-three reignited.
"This time, monster," Gunnar roared, his voice now carrying the unshakeable resonance of his Armament Haki, "I'LL BREAK YOU!" He charged, his obsidian-clad fist, wreathed in super-condensed magma and razor-sharp ice, leading the way.
Weevil met him with a bellowing counter-charge, bisento whistling.
KA-THOOOM!
When Haki-infused magma-ice met Haki-infused steel, the shockwave was even more devastating than before. But this time, Gunnar held his ground. The black armor on his arm didn't shatter; it absorbed and repelled. Weevil's eyes widened slightly – a flicker of surprise in their usual dullness. Gunnar, gritting his teeth against the agony in his side, pressed the attack. His blows were heavier, more focused. He wasn't just a raging element anymore; he was a sentient siege engine.
A HYŌKAI KEN (ICE CRUMBLE FIST), now black and gleaming, smashed against Weevil's side, sending a visible shockwave through the giant's bulk. Weevil grunted, a sound like grinding stones, and for the first time, took a hesitant step back.
"Your big moves are too slow now, freakshow!" Ace taunted, a wild grin spreading across his face despite his injuries. His nascent Observation Haki, but through it, he could perceive the subtle tells: the shift in World's massive shoulders before a swing, the tensing of his legs before a charge.
"Stand still and let me hit you!" World raged, frustrated by Ace's newfound evasiveness. He unleashed MOA MOA – HUNDRED TIMES BARRAGE!, hurling chunks of debris, each amplified to terrifying destructive potential.
Ace danced. Flames erupted from his feet, propelling him in erratic patterns, weaving through the deadly projectiles like a leaf in a hurricane, yet somehow untouched. He felt a pull, a suggestion of where to move, a split-second before each impact. He was still learning.
He saw an opening as World overextended. "HIKEN!" A smaller, faster Fire Fist, but aimed with newfound precision, slammed into World's exposed flank. Not a knockout blow, but it made the giant roar in annoyance.
With his allies now capably handling their monstrous counterparts, Isshin could dedicate his full, formidable attention to the mastermind. "Your sand games end here, Shichibukai!"
Crocodile, initially taken aback by the sudden turn, quickly regained his composure, his expression hardening into cold fury. "Insolent worms! Do you think a few parlor tricks will save you? SABLES: TORMENTA! (DESERT STORM: TORMENT!)"
A violent, concentrated sandstorm, far more vicious than before, erupted around them, visibility dropping to nil. The sand was thick, choking, imbued with Crocodile's draining aura.
But Isshin was a master.
Ace, too, found the storm less disorienting. He could feel Crocodile's presence within it, the subtle shifts in the sand that heralded an attack. When a giant sand claw erupted, Ace was already moving, countering with a HOTARUBI (FIREFLY LIGHT), sending a volley of small, tracking fireballs that illuminated the claw and forced Crocodile to retract it.
"Your tricks are losing their edge, Crocodile!" Ace shouted, his flames burning brighter, pushing back against the oppressive dryness.
Gunnar, meanwhile, was locked in a brutal slugfest. He landed a devastating KAZAN GOUTETSU (VOLCANIC IRON HAMMER), his Armament-Haki fist crashing into Weevil's chest with the force of a cannonball.
Weevil coughed, a strangled, furious sound, and a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He was actually hurt. Enraged, Weevil swung his bisento wildly, aiming to cleave Gunnar in two. Gunnar, instead of dodging, met the Haki-laced blade with his Haki-laced forearm.
SKREEEEEE-DONNNNG!
Sparks flew. Gunnar was pushed back, his arm screaming, but the black Haki held. The bisento slid off, leaving only a shallow, smoking gash where before it would have severed limb from body.
"They're… they're fighting back!" one of Crocodile's pirates shrieked from the edge of the courtyard, witnessing the impossible.
For a moment, the tide seemed to turn. Isshin, pressing his advantage, landed a clean SHURA STRIKE across Crocodile's arm, drawing not just sand, but a spray of dark, actual blood. The Shichibukai hissed, clutching his arm.
"Impossible!" Crocodile snarled, his composure finally cracking.
"They're adapting. More dangerous than anticipated." He glanced at his allies. Byrnndi World was panting, his amplified attacks missing their mark. Weevil was bruised, bleeding, and his usual dull rage was now mixed with a frustrated confusion.
"Weevil! World!" Crocodile commanded, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "No more games. No more underestimation. CRUSH THEM UTTERLY!"
Byrnndi World let out a guttural roar, his muscles swelling, touching his own body. "MOA MOA – MAX POWER! ALL SYSTEMS GO!" His entire form seemed to vibrate with contained energy.
Weevil slammed the butt of his bisento into the ground, cracking the stone, his eyes fixing on Gunnar with primal hatred. A low growl escaped him, promising untold violence.
Crocodile raised his hook, sand swirling around him into a massive, churning vortex. "SABLES: APOCALIPSIS! (DESERT STORM: APOCALYPSE!)"
The three champions braced themselves. The air grew heavy, and an even greater cataclysm. The brief respite was over.
---
The battle escalates. The three pirates are ready to show them the power of true pirates of the New World.