When gods fight, mortals suffer.
That was exactly what this battlefield had become.
The destructive force unleashed by the clash of top–tier combatants was beyond what ordinary fighters could even imagine.
It wasn't only Bullet against Ryokugyu, or Akainu against Big Mom, or Sengoku locked with Kaido.
On the other fronts, Kizaru was fighting the World. Black Viper was facing the Redfield. Tokikake was completely held down by Kaido's Fire Calamity, King.
Black Viper was a monster with admiral–level strength, equal to Ryokugyu, and their abilities countered each other perfectly.
Ryokugyu could revive all things.
Black Viper could make all things wither and decay.
Of course, fighting on an icy battlefield limited Black Viper to some extent. His Devil Fruit was far more suited to the island behind them, where life was abundant.
Even so, the bodies of anyone within thirty meters of him began to rapidly age. Some pirates simply died of old age, collapsing as frail husks. The "luckier" ones merely became elderly and too weak to fight.
The weak Marines caught in the radius also suffered, but that meant nothing to Black Viper, who upheld a twisted form of dark justice. To complete a mission, he would do anything—white, black, moral, immoral. To Sengoku and many others, someone like him should never have become a Marine.
He behaved more like a criminal who simply enjoyed the authority granted by the World Government.
As expected, his reputation was terrible.
But to the World Government leaders — especially the Gorosei — morality was irrelevant. They didn't care if someone was good or evil. They only cared about order and obedience.
Even someone who challenged their rule as aggressively as Elior would still be accepted again if he ever chose to kneel before the Celestial Dragons. The Gorosei didn't care about grudges.
To them, justice and injustice were meaningless. What mattered was someone who could strengthen their rule—someone obedient and strong.
Wherever Black Viper passed, wails followed. The awakened power of his Paramecia fruit spread decay like a plague, draining lifespan, health, and vitality from countless weak fighters.
But even his power had limits. The stronger the target, the harder it was to affect them.
If it were otherwise, Black Viper would have been invincible long ago.
Right now, the Redfield stood within the radius of decay, yet remained completely unaffected.
Redfield's Devil Fruit–granted youth was not for anything.
"What an annoying man," the Redfield muttered. "Black Viper… just look at you. Sticking out your tongue like a serpent. You look more wicked than any pirate I've ever seen. Where's the dignity of a Marine admiral in that?"
He smirked. "They say you were active back in Kong's era. That'd make you over ninety by now. To think you reclaimed your youth… truly impressive."
Black Viper smiled coldly, and blackened energy pooled in his hands.
Redfield stomped on the ice, shattering it as he launched forward.
Black Viper was also charged.
Even with his sinister grin and arrogant posture, Redfield remained unshaken.
Their fists collided—the Redfield's punch against Black Viper's right palm. The impact sent Black Viper skidding several meters backward. The ice beneath them cracked apart in huge sections.
"Since you know I'm from Kong's era," the Redfield said, "then you should also know what I excel at—martial arts and swordsmanship!"
Back then, his fame stood equal to Roger and Whitebeard, and none of it came from Devil Fruits. He hadn't even been a Devil Fruit user at the time.
"What strength…" Black Viper was shocked, but charged again. A dense black aura erupted from him, swirling like a dark mist, making him appear even more monstrous.
This corrosive vapor was more terrifying than Big Mom's stomach acid.
Redfield drew his blade—a large, razor–sharp sword that had followed him for most of his life. As his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the blade gave a low, rumbling growl, as if eager for battle.
A crimson slash towers forward, splitting the ice for kilometers. The corrosive black aura was cleaved apart completely.
One of the massive warships didn't escape—it was carved clean in two.
"You're just a brat. You're nowhere near my level!"
Redfield despised arrogant, unrestrained fighters like Black Viper. Compared to Elior, this man was pathetic.
Damn you, old man!
Black Viper roared and charged again.
Across the battlefield, Kizaru no longer carried his usual carefree laziness. His expression was serious—rare for him.
After all, the man before him was a legend of the old era.
And Qi's power was no longer weakened by age. He had regained his prime.
"Kizaru! To think you'd be the one fighting me! Hahaha!"
World laughed, gripping a long staff. His muscles swelled—his form empowered by Armament Haki.
He swung the staff, his strength and speed exploding a hundredfold.
"Speed is power!"
Kizaru didn't dare relax. He unleashed a Light-Speed Kick, clashing against the staff.
Boom!
The impact shook the battlefield. Kizaru felt his leg go numb from the force.
Boom!
Both were blasted backward, ice shattering beneath them with each step they took.
"This old man… he's insanely strong," Kizaru thought, keeping his guard up.
"Eat, youngster!" World charged again. The fight had only begun. Their powers were evenly matched, and neither would fall quickly.
Elsewhere, Garp finally reached Elior.
His fists were clenched. His eyes burned with fury. His face was twisted in a grim, murderous scowl.
To Elior, Garp looked like a raging beast.
Ace—whom Garp considered his own grandson—and his son Dragon had both died by Elior's hand. No one could misunderstand Garp's wrath.
Elior didn't care to understand it, either.
A fight was a fight.
And Garp was one of the men Elior had sworn to kill, no matter what.