As he spoke, Sengoku's golden Buddha palm was already in motion.
Infused with a thick, powerful layer of Armament Haki, he swung it directly toward the massive hundred-meter sword slicing down from the sky.
A sharp, ear-piercing screech tore through the air, as though space itself was being ripped apart by the force of his strike.
CLANG!
A crisp, metallic ring resounded across the battlefield.
The colossal sword of light was abruptly halted mid-air, caught in Sengoku's palm.
The Fleet Admiral sneered, his power holding firm.
"Is that all you—"
Before he could finish his taunt, his expression warped in shock.
He swiftly retracted his hand, dodging to the side as the massive blade continued its descent.
A single drop of dark blood dripped from his palm.
That seemingly simple sword strike had actually managed to cut him.
Ron calmly watched the Fleet Admiral with a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
His sword was not so easily withstood.
The Sky-Slicing Sword Technique was absolute.
Armament Haki, no matter how advanced, could still be severed.
As the hundred-meter blade descended once more with thunderous force, aimed squarely at the fleeing Sentomaru, Sengoku's heart tightened.
Without a moment's hesitation, he acted again.
Taking a deep breath, he concentrated all his strength into his palm.
The very air seemed to compress, forming an invisible but overwhelming pressure.
With a sudden thrust, that force erupted outwards.
"Shockwave!"
BOOM!
A deafening collision reverberated across the sky.
The invisible shockwave, like a raging storm, slammed into the flat of the giant sword, forcibly knocking it off course by a few feet.
Though it was only a slight shift, for Sentomaru who stood on the brink of life and death, those few feet were the difference between life and oblivion.
In the end, the colossal blade grazed past the top of his head.
The razor-sharp Sword Slash was so close it nearly touched his skin, shearing off a few strands of hair that drifted away in the wind.
The scene left everyone present holding their breath.
Sentomaru, however, didn't dare to relax.
Knowing his enemy would grant him no respite, he immediately quickened his pace, sprinting desperately toward the safety of the fleet.
"Ron, that guy's getting away!" Ace growled, rolling up his sleeves.
His eyes burned with frustration, and he was about to give chase when Ron held up a hand to stop him.
"Don't act recklessly, Ace."
Just then, a streak of golden light shot across the battlefield, moving so fast it was nearly impossible to follow.
In the next moment, Kizaru appeared between the pirates and Sentomaru's escape route, his towering figure standing like an insurmountable mountain.
He simply stood there, his message was clear.
Seeing this, Ace halted, grinding his teeth.
Though still seething with anger, he understood that with an Admiral in his way, the chase was over.
'Dammit!' he thought, frustrated.
'Just like with that Momonga guy earlier… another fight that ends before it really begins!'
The thought of the Vice Admiral who had all but surrendered to him left a sour taste in his mouth.
Meanwhile, Sentomaru, having narrowly escaped death, glanced back.
He saw Kizaru standing guard, creating a path for his escape.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
"Uncle… thank you," he whispered, before turning and continuing his desperate run.
The air on the battlefield was thick with a new, dangerous tension.
Everyone gripped their weapons tightly, eyes locked on their opponents, not daring to let their guard down for a single second.
Sengoku stared intently at Ron.
'The absurdly young Vice-Captain of an Emperor's crew,' he thought, his mind racing.
'A scientist whose knowledge is said to surpass even Vegapunk's'.
'And widely regarded as the youngest Great Swordsman in history… maybe the strongest'.
So many incredible titles, all concentrated on a single individual.
Any one of those achievements would make a person a legend, yet they all belonged to one man.
At that thought, Sengoku's mood grew exceptionally heavy.
He realized with a chilling certainty that the threat posed by Ron might far exceed that of Whitebeard himself.
Without this genius holding them together, providing them with new weapons and strategies, the Whitebeard Pirates might have crumbled long ago.
After this battle, the world would need to reassess the value—and the threat—of this young man.
"HEY, KID!" Garp's furious roar suddenly broke the silence.
He rolled up his sleeves, pointing an accusatory finger at Ron.
"That first giant slash, that was you, wasn't it?! You almost took my damn head off!"
Aokiji slowly walked over, his wounds crudely sealed by a thin layer of frost to stop the bleeding.
As he observed the pirates, his immediate impression was how much they had changed.
Their strength, their confidence… it had all grown exponentially.
He sighed inwardly, marveling at their astonishing growth rate.
"Sengoku, Garp."
A new voice joined them.
Tsuru approached slowly, her steps noticeably heavy.
She had managed to escape the headquarters before Jozu's attack had obliterated it, but now, seeing the devastated surroundings and the crater where their main fortress once stood, she couldn't help but lower her head, a complex emotion stirring in her heart.
The cost of this battle was already far too heavy.
Garp's head snapped toward her, and a wave of relief washed over his face.
"Tsuru! It's great that you're alright!" he said with a hearty, if strained, laugh.
"Hmph! If I had waited for you to remember to save me, the grass on my grave would already be two meters tall," Tsuru retorted, shooting Garp a displeased glare.
She then turned her gaze to Sengoku, her eyes filled with deep concern.
"Sengoku," she said, her voice grim.
"The situation is dire. Whitebeard's strength… it far exceeds all of our expectations."
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