The same punch that had shattered the meteor now drove forward once more, this time aimed at a man standing unflinchingly a short distance away.
Vice Admiral Garp.
"Uchiha Madara!" Garp's voice thundered like a war drum. His expression hardened, a stubborn fire burning behind that square jaw.
"He's mine!"
Before the air could even settle, Madara flicked a glance toward Hashirama and leapt forward with unrestrained ferocity.
Hashirama exhaled quietly, half in amusement, half in exasperation. He knew that once Madara set his eyes on an opponent, stopping him was impossible. His own gaze shifted toward another figure cloaked in a faint golden aura, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, the Buddha himself.
"So... that one's mine, then," Hashirama murmured.
The strange markings of Sage Mode crawled slowly across his face, and his aura deepened into something ancient and tranquil, then, the two titans met.
At that precise moment, Madara and Garp collided.
A shockwave exploded outward.
"BOOM!"
Ice and wind shattered around them as each strike carved invisible fissures into the battlefield. Garp's fists blurred with frightening speed, while Madara's counterattacks were swift and precise, his Sharingan spinning like a crimson vortex as it tracked Garp's every move.
"Soru!"
In an instant, Garp vanished.
Madara smirked and disappeared just as fast.
Their bodies reappeared midair, exchanging kicks that detonated upon contact.
"Copied my combat technique already? Impressive!" Garp barked.
He remembered this man, the so-called demon from another world. He and Sengoku together had failed to bring him down completely last time. This time, he was determined to change that.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Their fists collided again and again, moving faster than most could follow. The very air screamed from the pressure.
Madara twisted out of the way, his hands forming seals.
"Katon, Great Fire Annihilation!"
An ocean of fire burst from his lungs, an inferno that rolled across the ice like the breath of a god.
But through the flames, a shadow lunged forward. The conflagration split apart as Garp tore through it, smoke trailing from his shoulders.
"That won't work on me!" His fist crashed into Madara's forearms with an ear-splitting crack, sending the Uchiha sliding back across the expanse of ice.
"You're strong, old man," Madara growled, straightening. A dangerous light flickered in his eyes. "The strongest hand-to-hand fighter I've ever faced."
Not far away, another confrontation was unfolding.
Hashirama and Sengoku stood opposed, their auras clashing in invisible pressure waves.
"Warriors from another world," Sengoku said evenly, "What is your purpose here?"
He already suspected the answer. After crossing fists with Hashirama even briefly, he could tell that the man's strength was immense, perhaps on par with Madara himself.
Hashirama's eyes grew distant as memories flickered across his mind: Gandalf's fall into the abyss, the chaos that followed, and the countless worlds drawn into this converging storm.
"Our purpose?" His voice softened. "To survive… that's all."
For a man who had once built peace out of endless war, conflict was the last path he ever wished to tread.
"If possible," Hashirama continued, meeting Sengoku's gaze calmly, "I would rather no blood be shed. Admiral Sengoku, I hope reason prevails, and that you will bow to His Majesty's will."
He spoke with sincerity, the weight of worlds carried in each word.
Faced with Hashirama's calm appeal, Sengoku's expression twisted into fury.
"You speak of mercy… yet beneath it lies ambition!"
A radiant halo gathered in his palm. The air around him warped under its pressure, then the shockwave roared forward.
Hashirama's hands blurred through seals. From the frozen seas beneath them, massive tree trunks surged upward, anchoring themselves against the oncoming force.
"Admiral Sengoku, you speak without understanding," Hashirama countered, voice steady.
"Understanding?" Sengoku pressed his palm down again, the pressure doubling. "Don't understand what?"
Hashirama's eyes sharpened to a deadly glint as his fingers danced through more seals.
"You don't understand… the power of Qin's Nation!"
Then, without warning, his hands stilled. He drew in a breath and raised his gaze.
"Mokuton, Deep Forest Bloom!"
"KRAASH!"
The frozen ocean itself trembled. Vines, trees, and flowers erupted from solid ice, sprawling across the battlefield with impossible speed. The Marines gaped in disbelief, on an iron-hard sea, life now flourished in breathtaking abundance.
This was no mere mimicry of Madara's tactics. This was Hashirama's domain, vast and unrestrained.
He vaulted high into the sky, knuckles tightening into a fist.
"Extraordinary Strength Fist!"
Sengoku met the descending strike with his own.
"BOOM!"
The collision split the air, shockwaves tearing through both wood and ice as the forest crumbled around them.
Hashirama landed lightly, hands moving once more.
"Senpō, True Several Thousand Hands!"
"KRAASH!"
From the earth rose a colossal wooden Buddha, towering higher than Sengoku, radiating serene divinity and unyielding authority. Hashirama stood upon its crown, looking down at his opponent.
"Admiral Sengoku," He said, reverberating through the battlefield, "Surrender. It is the wisest outcome, for everyone."
Sengoku tilted his head, eyes locked on the essence of power looming above him. His awe lasted only a moment before a hardened glare pushed it aside.
"This war began with you! Don't dress your invasion in righteousness."
A halo bloomed again in his palm, its energy pulsing like a heartbeat. Hashirama remained unmoved. Two breaths later, the Buddha stirred, its countless arms spreading wide, creaking ominously as pressure mounted.
"This is not my will," Hashirama murmured.
The statue's palms slammed together, light exploding outward. Far across the field, the three Marine Admirals advanced, but three figures stepped to meet them.
"I hear you use ice," One said coolly. "A coincidence, we share the same craft."
"Destiny, perhaps," Another smirked. "I wield lava."
The third narrowed his eyes. "Don't bother looking my way, old man. My element isn't light."
Fang Lan, Qin Lin, and Yang Yi, the three generals of Qin's Nation, stood ready.
"Perfect," Akainu growled, body igniting into molten fury. "Let's see how you compare to us."
Aokiji's breath turned the air to mist, while Kizaru became a blur of dazzling light. The next heartbeat saw all six collide, a violent storm of elements tearing into the frozen expanse.
"Ha ha ha ha! Now THIS gets the blood pumping!"
Doflamingo's laugh rang across the chaos as his fingers twitched. Invisible threads bit into the minds of nearby Qin soldiers, forcing them to attack their own comrades.
But then, another presence cut through his web.
"Puppetry?" The Kazekage's voice was calm, almost mocking. "I can do that too. Let's make this fair."
A slight motion of his right hand, and the soldiers were freed.
Doflamingo's eyes narrowed into slits, a cruel smile curling his lips. "Qin's Nation… I'm beginning to enjoy this."
All around, Kage and clan leaders clashed with Marine titans. The battlefield roared under the weight of a hundred legends.
And then, quiet, but heavy, footsteps crossed the ruined ice.
A man with a sword moved toward the heart of the fight.
"Qin King… Ying Zheng," His voice carried, confident and cutting. "I find you… quite interesting."
(End of Chapter.)
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