The air on Port Obsidian beach crackled, thick with unspoken threats and the oppressive weight of the unholy alliance before them. Gunnar looked at Ace, a feral grin stretching his lips, a wild, almost unhinged light dancing in his golden eyes. Ace, despite the tremor of Ain's power still weakening his side, met the look with a grimace that quickly morphed into a reckless, fiery smirk.
"Two on four, huh?" Ace rasped, his voice still strained but his spirit igniting. "They really think they can take us, Ice-Brain?"
"They can try," Gunnar growled, a low, guttural sound that seemed to vibrate from the very earth beneath him. "Let's show these fossils and their lapdogs what happens when you corner Whitebeard's sons."
As if summoned by his will, a primal energy surged through Gunnar. His body began to visibly transform. Jagged, spiraling horns of black, obsidian-like ice erupted from his temples, curving menacingly upwards, glinting with an internal, frosty light. His right arm, already dripping molten rock, seemed to liquefy further, glowing with the incandescent heat of a volcano's heart, the lava coiling around his limb like a living serpent. Simultaneously, his left arm became encased in a thicker, more brutal layer of crystalline ice, razor-sharp spurs jutting from his knuckles and elbow, the frost spreading across his shoulder and down his torso, creating a stark, terrifying dichotomy of elemental fury. Veins pulsed beneath his skin, glowing alternately with fiery orange and glacial blue. His eyes burned pure gold, no longer human, but the eyes of a force of nature unleashed.
Ace, feeding off Gunnar's explosive transformation, roared. The flames engulfing his body intensified, no longer just licking at his skin but erupting outwards in a ferocious, almost solid corona of fire. His hair seemed to burn like a solar flare, individual strands flickering like embers. The very air around him shimmered with heat distortion, and the sand beneath his feet began to glass over. The weakness Ain had inflicted still nagged, but the sheer, defiant inferno he projected seemed to fight against it, a testament to his indomitable will.
Zephyr watched, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of something – perhaps grudging respect for the sheer untamed power, or merely clinical interest – crossed his features. Momonga and Bastille tensed, their hands tightening on their weapons, recognizing the escalation. Ain's smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a calculating focus.
"Impressive displays of desperation," Zephyr rumbled, his Battle Smasher whirring. "But fireworks fade."
"We're not fireworks, old man," Gunnar snarled, his voice deeper now, distorted by the power thrumming through him. "We're the goddamn apocalypse."
And then they moved.
Not with individual charges, but with a sudden, coordinated explosion of motion reminiscent of a perfectly honed pack of wolves – or a well-oiled wrestling faction hitting their signature explosive entry.
Gunnar, a maelstrom of ice and fire, charged straight at the center, aiming for Zephyr, the head of the snake. But Momonga, anticipating the direct assault, moved with blurring speed, his katana a silver streak aimed to intercept.
Simultaneously, Ace, a living inferno, feinted towards Ain, forcing her to sidestep, then with a burst of fiery propulsion from his heels, he veered sharply, launching a massive **"ENKAI! HIBASHIRA!" (Flame Commandment: Fire Pillar!)** not at her, but at Bastille, hoping to isolate the slower, more powerful Vice Admiral.
The clash was instantaneous and brutal.
Gunnar's lava-wreathed fist met Momonga's Haki-infused katana. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outwards, the air crackling with the sound of superheated steam as lava met steel. Momonga, a master swordsman, used his smaller frame and superior agility to redirect some of Gunnar's raw power, but the sheer force behind the blow forced him back a step, his boots skidding on the black sand.
"You've learned Rokushiki well, Marine!" Gunnar bellowed, pressing his attack, his ice-clawed hand lashing out in a vicious arc, aiming to freeze Momonga's sword arm.
Momonga, using Soru, flickered out of the ice's immediate reach, his expression grim. "And you wield your destructive power with the finesse of a battering ram, pirate!" He countered with a swift series of slashes, each aimed at Gunnar's less-armored joints.
Meanwhile, Ace's towering pillar of fire slammed down where Bastille had stood. The Vice Admiral, however, proved deceptively agile for his size. With a roar, he brought his massive shark-slicer sword up in a defensive arc, Haki coating the blade, and split the fire pillar, the flames parting around him like water around a boulder.
"Is that all, Fire Fist?!" Bastille boomed, charging through the dissipating flames, his sword swinging in a deadly horizontal sweep aimed at Ace's already injured side.
Ace gritted his teeth, the sudden movement aggravating Ain's curse. He threw himself into a roll, the wind of Bastille's passage ruffling his fiery hair, the heat of the near miss searing his skin. He came up blasting a volley of **"HIKEN!"** (Fire Fists) point-blank, forcing Bastille to momentarily halt his advance and defend.
But this wasn't two separate duels. It was a chaotic, swirling melee.
Zephyr, seeing Gunnar momentarily engaged with Momonga, surged forward, his Battle Smasher aimed like a battering ram at Gunnar's exposed flank. "Your focus is scattered, boy!"
Before the blow could land, Ace, having created a momentary reprieve from Bastille, twisted and unleashed a "KAGERO!" (Heat Haze!) – a shimmering wave of disorienting heat that warped Zephyr's vision for a critical second. It wasn't an attack, but a tactical disruption.
Gunnar capitalized instantly. He disengaged from Momonga with a savage roar, spinning, his ice-clawed hand tearing a shallow gash across Momonga's shoulder despite the Vice Admiral's attempt to dodge, then pivoted to meet Zephyr's reoriented charge. His lava fist met Zephyr's Battle Smasher in a cataclysmic explosion of force and elemental fury. The ground beneath them cracked, spitting steam and molten rock. Both combatants grunted, pushed back by the sheer, unyielding power of the other.
"You're resilient, I'll give you that!" Zephyr snarled, his mechanical arm whirring as he prepared another strike.
"And you're old news!" Gunnar shot back, his horns seeming to glow brighter.
But the numbers game was relentless. Ain, seeing Ace momentarily exposed after his intervention for Gunnar, moved with serpentine speed. Her fingers, glowing with that insidious light, lashed out. Ace, still feeling the drain from her previous attack, reacted a fraction too slow. Her touch grazed his leg. A fresh wave of debilitating weakness shot through him, his flames dimming noticeably. He stumbled, cursing.
"Two can play at that game, witch!" Gunnar roared. Seeing Ace falter, he stomped his foot, and a wave of jagged ice erupted from the ground, snaking towards Ain.
Ain leaped back, avoiding the ice, but the distraction was enough for Bastille, recovering from Ace's fire fists, to charge again. His massive sword came down like a guillotine towards Ace's now-vulnerable form.
"ACE!" Gunnar bellowed, but he was still locked in a brutal exchange of blows with Zephyr, lava and steel clashing, each impact shaking the beach.
It looked like the end for Ace. But then, with a desperate surge of will, he forced his weakened flames into a concentrated burst beneath him, propelling himself sideways in a clumsy, uncontrolled tumble, the very tip of Bastille's sword tearing through his vest and scoring a bloody line across his back. He landed heavily, coughing, his vision swimming.
Momonga, meanwhile, pressed his advantage against Gunnar, his precise, Haki-fueled slashes forcing Gunnar to defend, unable to immediately go to Ace's aid. One slash slipped past Gunnar's guard, slicing across his ribs, drawing a hiss of pain and a fresh gout of steam as blood met lava.
Gunnar roared in fury and pain, lashing out with a blind, sweeping arc of his ice arm, forcing Momonga back momentarily.
The relentless assault continued. Bastille, with a guttural roar, finally found his opening. As Ace struggled to evade another of Ain's debilitating touches, the Vice Admiral's massive shark-slicer sword, imbued with devastating Haki, slammed into Ace's already injured side. The sound was a sickening thud, and Ace cried out, a raw, agonized sound, as he was launched sideways like a broken doll, flames sputtering erratically around him.
Simultaneously, Zephyr, in a brutal exchange with Gunnar, feinted with his Battle Smasher, then delivered a crushing, Haki-infused elbow strike to Gunnar's jaw. The impact snapped Gunnar's head back, stars exploding behind his eyes. Before he could recover, Zephyr's mechanical arm seized him by the throat, lifting him bodily, then with a grunt of immense effort, hurled him through the air in the same direction as Ace.
The two Whitebeard pirates, battered and overwhelmed, soared through the air, arcing over the chaotic beach. They crashed, almost simultaneously, onto the deck of one of the nearby Neo Marine cruisers – the same one they had briefly boarded earlier. The impact was colossal. Ace slammed into the mast, splintering the thick wood, and collapsed in a heap. Gunnar smashed through the railing and skidded across the deck, leaving a trail of shattered planks and molten slag, coming to a halt near the bow.
For a moment, silence descended upon that particular ship, broken only by the groans of the two pirates.
Ace coughed, black spots dancing in his vision. He tasted blood. His side screamed in agony. He pushed himself up on trembling arms, his flames little more than flickering embers.
Gunnar lay prone for a second, the world spinning. His horns felt cracked, his jaw throbbed, and every inch of his body ached. But beneath the pain, a deeper, more primal fury was stirring. He had been thrown. Like refuse. The indignity, more than the pain, stoked the inferno within. He pushed himself up, his ice and lava armor fractured and diminished, but his golden eyes were beginning to glow with an unholy light.
They both got to their feet, swaying slightly, blood dripping onto the deck. They locked eyes across the ravaged ship. No words were needed. The shared humiliation, the burning desire for retribution, the unbreakable bond of brothers-in-arms forged in countless battles – it all passed between them in that single, silent glance.
Then, as one, they moved.
Not towards their enemies on the beach. But upwards.
With a guttural roar that seemed to tear from the very depths of his soul, Gunnar launched himself into the sky, a streak of chaotic elemental energy. Ace, with a final, desperate surge of will, forced his depleted flames into a powerful burst, propelling himself upwards after Gunnar, a diminishing comet of fire.
High above the battlefield, suspended between the churning sea and the smoke-filled sky, Gunnar changed.
His body, already a monstrous fusion of ice and lava, began to expand at an alarming rate. Bones cracked and reformed, muscles swelled and solidified, his elemental nature running rampant, unchecked. The horns on his head grew longer, thicker, spiraling towards the heavens like jagged mountain peaks. His lava arm became a torrent of molten earth, his ice arm a glacier of crushing power. He didn't just grow; he erupted, becoming a colossal figure that dwarfed the warships below, a titan of fire and frost, his roar echoing across the sea like the judgment of a wrathful god. When he stopped growing, he towered an unbelievable 219 feet tall, a living embodiment of Ymir, the primordial giant from ancient sagas, forged from the conflicting, destructive energies of ice and ember. His eyes, now vast pools of molten gold, blazed down at the island.
As this cataclysmic transformation reached its zenith, Ace, his ascent slowing, angled his trajectory. He descended, no longer a sputtering flame, but a focused, determined projectile. He landed with controlled force on the black sand beach, right before the stunned quartet of Zephyr, Ain, Momonga, and Bastille. Not in a heap, but in a classic, three-point landing – one knee down, one fist planted on the ground, his head bowed for a moment before snapping up. His flames, though still not at their peak, now burned with a steadier, more resolute intensity, a single, defiant star before the colossal, elemental titan that was Gunnar.
The four adversaries stared, momentarily stunned into inaction. The sheer, audacious scale of Gunnar's transformation, coupled with Ace's reappearance.
"You… you wanted a real fight?" Ace's voice, though still carrying a hint of strain, was laced with a dangerous, almost gleeful edge, as he rose to his full height, his gaze fixed on Zephyr. He gestured with a flaming thumb over his shoulder towards the colossal Gunnar. "Meet the fucking apocalypse."
The Titan Gunnar, Ymir reborn in ice and lava, let out another earth-shattering roar. He raised one colossal foot, wreathed in freezing mist and dripping magma.
"Now," Gunnar's voice boomed, no longer just human, but the grinding of tectonic plates, the roar of a blizzard, the rumble of a volcano. "LET'S. PLAY."
He brought his foot down.
It wasn't an attack aimed at a single individual. It was an act of geological annihilation. The entire section of the beach where their enemies stood buckled and shattered. Zephyr, Ain, Momonga, and Bastille were forced to scatter, leaping back with desperate speed as the ground beneath them erupted in a maelstrom of splintered rock, superheated steam, and flash-frozen earth.
Ace didn't wait. As they scrambled, he exploded forward, targeting Ain with a renewed ferocity. "SHINKA: SHIRANUI! (Sacred Fire: Sea Fire!)" He unleashed a volley of lances made of pure, flames, faster and more focused than before, forcing her onto the defensive, her previous composure finally cracking.
Momonga and Bastille, recovering from the shockwave of Gunnar's footfall, turned to face the colossal threat. "This is… madness!" Bastille bellowed, his voice barely audible over the Titan's rumbling.
"MADNESS?" Gunnar's voice boomed. His colossal lava hand swept down, not to crush, but to scoop, tearing a massive trench in the beach, sending tons of black sand and rock cascading towards the two Vice Admirals, forcing them to use their full Haki and Rokushiki skills just to avoid being buried alive.
Zephyr, his Battle Smasher whirring, leaped onto a jagged outcrop of rock created by Gunnar's stomp. He stared up at the towering figure, his expression a mixture of disbelief and grim resolve. "So, this is the true extent of Whitebeard's monstrous power breeding… Uncontrolled… Unfettered…"
"THIS," the Titan Gunnar roared, his icy gaze locking onto Zephyr, "IS YOUR END!" His colossal ice hand, crackling with freezing energy, swept towards Zephyr like an avalanche.