The Revolutionary Army advancing nearby froze in shock, witnessing the scene above. They knew full well that in such violent weather, Dragon had begun to take the fight seriously.
At the World Headquarters, weren't the only defenders a few Vice Admirals? And they had already been swept aside by the Revolutionary Army.
Then who had appeared here, forcing Dragon to exert such effort?
Batches of Revolutionary Army soldiers cautiously advanced toward the battlefield. Thump, thump, thump… their boots hit the ground in rhythm as they marched.
"Over at the World Headquarters, our leader must have encountered a terrifying enemy! Urgent support! Urgent support!" shouted the man at the front, straining to be heard.
Dragon, hovering in the sky, sensed their movements and bellowed, "Do not let the Army intervene! This battle is beyond their control!"
The South Army Commander on the ground regained his composure, pulling a flare-like device from his mechanical backpack and launching it into the sky.
Boom!
A fiery dragon erupted, a signal recognized instantly by the marching soldiers. They stopped and even retreated several hundred meters, understanding Dragon's warning.
"This time, Dragon-san is facing a formidable opponent. We would only be in the way," murmured the Revolutionary Army soldiers, eyes fixed on the battle.
Above the battlefield, Sword Saint Bickley's eyes burned with fury at Dragon's mention of the Revolutionary Army.
"I say, Dragon, even now you're thinking about your troops? You know too little about my terror! A man who cannot even protect himself should not pretend to be a hero!" he shouted.
The Holy Sword in his hand roared to life. "Holy sword!" The blade's brilliance doubled, sending dazzling white light cascading across the battlefield.
Dragon's previously unyielding aura began to waver beneath the oppressive holy light. Around him, onlookers gaped at the vast radiance filling the sky.
This was not Dragon's doing—Dragon was being suppressed.
The Revolutionary Army soldiers below swallowed hard. Whoever could suppress Dragon in such a manner—could it truly be Imu?
They realized the battle had escalated far beyond their expectations. Now, all they could do was hope Dragon would prevail. Only his victory could secure humanity's future in this fight.
Meanwhile, Dragon's body strained under the assault of the Holy Sword. The light was not mere sword intent; it carried an unknown energy that seeped into his body, causing intense pain as if his bones might shatter.
The East Army Commander noticed this and waved her military flag. Streams of blue-green light surged toward Dragon, easing his agony and accelerating his recovery.
The Sword Saint furrowed his brow. This East Army Commander was not trivial—he could even temporarily heal internal damage caused by the Holy Sword!
Sabo, Ivankov, Crow, and the South Army Commander could not remain idle. They attacked in unison, determined to protect Dragon.
Flocks of Crows, artillery fire, and one Death Wink after another rained down upon the Sword Saint. Sabo unleashed a dragon-shaped Armament Haki wave, cutting through the sky.
Bickley, sensing the attacks with Observation Haki, frowned.
"You are annoyingly persistent," he muttered.
He opened his left hand, and a four-directional Conqueror's Haki barrier materialized, neutralizing every attack with explosive precision. The friction from the assault heated the air, yet each flame vanished upon touching the Haki barrier.
Spectators on the ground watched in disbelief. The Sword Saint casually deflected attack after attack, displaying strength that rivaled the legendary Night Feather, known to the world as the Devil-Ashveil.
"This man has mastered Conqueror's Haki control just like Ashveil?" Sabo whispered, shock evident in his voice.
The air above the battlefield trembled. A low hum resonated from the Holy Sword, vibrating through the atmosphere like the heartbeat of a god. Even the clouds seemed to shiver, casting eerie shadows across the land.
Dragon steadied himself, gathering every ounce of willpower. His eyes glimmered with determination, yet the Sword Saint's overwhelming aura pressed him back, testing the limits of his endurance.
Bickley tilted his head, an unsettling smile spreading across his face. "Ah… now I see. So this is the famous Dragon. I must admit, your resistance is… amusing."
Lightning crackled around the Sword Saint as he took a step forward, the ground beneath him splintering under the weight of his presence. The battlefield itself seemed to recoil, as if acknowledging a force far beyond any ordinary warrior.
The Revolutionary Army soldiers clutched their weapons tighter, some whispering prayers, others frozen in awe. Every heart among them knew that this confrontation was no longer a battle—it was an apocalypse in miniature, a clash of titans that could reshape the world.
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