The moment Issho used his gravity to evade that terrifying strike, the energy Don had accumulated in his blade finally erupted in full.
A wave of scorching heat burst forth without warning.
Within the newly formed canyon, the sands began to pour inward—only to ignite and burn away completely under the unbearable temperature.
On both sides of the rift, molten sand flowed like liquid gold, cascading down the cliffs in glowing streams.
Sound returned—crackling and hissing as embers devoured the desert.
"Finally… I got it out."
Don's voice carried a faint sigh as he gripped his blade, now glowing a deep, molten red.
The first time he had attempted such a strike was against Koushirou. That time, he had recklessly poured flame energy into the blade, and even with Armament Haki reinforcing it, the weapon was nearly destroyed.
The second time had been during his battle with Aokiji. He'd held back then, channeling only as much as the weapon could bear. Thanks to his activation of [Unyielding Will], his Armament Haki had surged far beyond normal limits, allowing the blade to endure more than before.
But Aokiji had fled before the technique could reach its peak.
Now—this strike had finally been unleashed.
It still wasn't his true limit, not even close. Yet Don was satisfied with the result.
Even without tapping his full strength, this strike… not even the "strongest creature," Kaidou himself, could withstand it.
It had already surpassed the limits of what any living being could endure.
The sword continued devouring Haki, using it to resist the blazing heat that threatened to melt it.
Don could feel it—the blade was transforming under the combined strain of heat and Haki, its evolution visible to the naked eye.
"Accelerating the forging of a Black Blade…?"
He raised the weapon—Flame—before his eyes.
Its brilliance had dimmed; delicate red veins now etched across the steel.
The blade was darkening, shifting toward a deep crimson hue.
Under the influence of his fire, the process of forging a Black Blade had changed course.
"Maybe not black anymore," Don mused. "A red blade, perhaps…"
As that thought surfaced, the gravity weighing on him suddenly vanished.
He turned, spotting Issho standing afar. The older man had already sheathed his cane-sword, facing Don with quiet composure.
"That strike…"
Issho spoke at last, voice low.
"It wasn't at full power," Don replied evenly.
Issho froze—not at the words, but at the meaning.
That strike… wasn't everything?
His blind eyes widened slightly in shock.
"I was only testing it," Don explained. "To see how far this strike could go. I never had the chance before."
"…I lost," Issho said after a long silence, shaking his head.
"So? The wager?" Don asked as he slid Flame back into its sheath, the heat dissipating into soft, pulsing embers.
"I'll honor my loss," Issho said gravely. "But I have my own beliefs. Whether it's the Warlords or pirates, I won't align myself with either."
"The world isn't just black and white," Don replied, frowning faintly. "The Warlords aren't the end goal—they're merely products of this era."
Issho tilted his head slightly, uncertain of Don's meaning.
Don glanced toward the massive canyon his strike had carved into the desert, then turned back toward Rainbase.
"This isn't the place for talk. Let's head back."
With a light step, his figure blurred toward the city. Issho followed close behind.
——
Rainbase.
The oasis city's temperature had risen noticeably. Though the increase wasn't drastic, the already scorching heat was becoming unbearable.
Fortunately, it began to subside soon after.
Up above, the shift in air currents drew thick clouds together—not just over Rainbase, but across the outer desert as well.
Robin stood tensely before a group of newcomers.
At their head was a tall man with a heavy build, a deep scar running across his nose and beneath both eyes—Crocodile.
"I follow Don now. You think I'd betray him for you?"
Robin's gaze locked on Crocodile, her Observation Haki flaring to life.
Though their bounties were similar, she knew she stood little chance against the man before her.
"Sometimes the right choice matters more than loyalty," Crocodile said, biting down on his cigar. "I don't know what you mean to that man—but under my command, you'd rank just beneath me."
"It means nothing to me," Robin shot back. "And tell me—can you afford Don's wrath?"
Her arms crossed defensively, ready to strike at any moment.
"Daz!"
Crocodile turned sharply toward the desert outskirts.
Whoosh!
Daz Bones charged forward in response.
"Six-Flower Hook Claw!"
As he lunged, six arms sprouted from the ground, grabbing his legs.
Unfazed, Daz's legs transformed into blades, slicing through the grasping hands.
But as the petals of her power dissipated, six more arms appeared—this time sprouting from his own back—locking tightly around his neck.
Daz swung his bladed limbs backward, forcing Robin to release her hold.
She frowned—any injury inflicted on her summoned limbs would rebound onto her own body.
Exhaling, she shifted into another stance.
Six arms unfolded across her back, her own fists wrapped in the sheen of Armament Haki.
She wasn't dead weight.
Meeting Daz head-on, Robin closed the distance, her Observation Haki guiding every motion. She slipped past his sweeping blades and drove forward—eight Haki-clad fists crashing into his chest in a flurry.
The secret technique of Bājí Fist—Eightfold Strike.
Thud! Thud!
Each blow landed cleanly. Daz's towering frame was hurled backward, the dents on his chest clearly visible.
Robin didn't pursue. Instead, her gaze flicked upward.
On a nearby rooftop stood Don, sword in hand, watching her with calm approval.
"Not bad," he said. "You've finally mastered Armament Haki."
As his words fell, Issho approached from down the street, the tapping of his cane echoing steadily with each step.
"You came and didn't even bother helping?"
Robin let out a soft laugh, pretending to pout.
Don landed beside her, patting her shoulder lightly before turning his eyes skyward.
A flock of News Coo had been circling overhead—but upon sensing Don's presence, they panicked, flapping away in a flurry of feathers that drifted slowly to the ground.
END OF CHAPTER
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