"What's this talk about ruling the world?"
"The real battle has only just begun!"
Garp trembled, every muscle alive with power. Haki coursed through his veins at its peak—he was in his thirties now, hardened by countless battles at sea, reborn again and again through sheer combat.
Once, his fists had shattered entire warships without Haki—pure strength and spirit alone.
Now, every breath of his body declared one truth to the world:
There is still hope.
"So what if Kong was defeated?" he roared. "You think that means all hope is gone?"
"Idiots! When Kong was young, who carried the banner of justice then?"
"There will always be younger Marines! Hope belongs to them!"
Garp slammed his hand into the ground, pushing himself upright.
His body cracked, bones popping as he forced his Haki beyond its limits.
"One day, when I'm old and broken… hope will belong to the next generation."
"But right now—this moment—is ours!"
"And my Iron Fist smashes everything!"
BOOM!
Garp rose, Haki roaring like a storm. His short hair stood upright, dust swirling around him.
In a flash—shing!—Garp smiled, fists glowing black, his will colliding head-on with Rocks's overwhelming Conqueror's Haki.
"Rocks, don't underestimate justice!"
The impact shook heaven and earth. For the first time, Rocks's eyes widened. He hadn't expected anyone left capable of meeting his power.
A grin tugged at his lips. "A Vice Admiral barking at the king of the world? How arrogant, Garp."
But Garp didn't even glance his way—he turned and shouted, "Hey, Roger! You planning to nap forever?"
The straw hat still shaded Gol D. Roger's face. Then—
"Hahahahahaha!" Roger burst out laughing, sitting up in a surge of raw will. "Garp! Rayleigh!"
"Are you ready? This world's about to greet a new age!"
"Someday—people will remember the name Roger!"
Even from the ground, his Haki blasted outward like a shockwave.
"Rocks!" Roger roared.
The very name sent tremors through the Rocks Pirates.
Whitebeard, Shiki, Big Mom, Kaido, Sharn—every future legend turned toward him.
Roger stood, placed the straw hat firmly on his head, and drew his blade—Ace.
He moved with such freedom that even in the chaos, he looked untouchable.
Zephyr, watching from afar, clenched his fists. It had taken him decades to meet another pirate who reminded him so much of Roger—one who fought with conviction rather than greed.
Roger, Garp, and Rocks—three names destined to define an era.
Back then, the sea had not yet carved Roger's name into history.
There was only one shadow that covered it all: Rocks D. Xebec,
the "King of the World."
Rocks—whose name alone silenced all others.
But now, facing Garp and Roger together, even he could feel the world shift.
Roger's sword split the air like thunder. His Haki surged beside Garp's Iron Fist, cleaving through Rocks's oppressive aura.
Sengoku, gasping for breath, looked back and felt it—the unmistakable wave of Roger's will.
Defiant, untamed, longing for freedom.
A spirit that yearned for the sea more than fish, for the sky more than birds.
Roger lifted his sword. Rayleigh and Jabba stepped forward behind him.
"Roger Pirates—assemble!"
Every bloodied crewmate rose to their feet.
"In the name of pirates, we'll challenge the Rocks Pirates! Let our names echo across the world!"
"Open fire!"
Roger's blade flashed like lightning—"Divine Departure!"
A golden arc slashed through the storm of Rocks's Haki.
"Iron Fist!"
Garp charged in tandem, his body a streak of thunder.
So what if the sea was vast?
So what if Rocks claimed the world?
There would always be new waves to rise—and higher mountains to climb!
"This is getting interesting!"
Rocks laughed. "Rocks Pirates—declare war on the Roger Pirates!"
"War on the Navy, the World Government, and the Celestial Dragons!"
"War against the world!"
He spread his arms, grinning like a devil. "Come, Roger! Garp! Show me your guts!"
The ruler of an era—wielder of the most powerful Devil Fruit and the mightiest Haki—unleashed his final gambit.
The three titans collided.
Shockwaves tore through the heavens—purple, red, black, and blue lightning dancing across the sky.
Even the air screamed.
"Rocks!"
"Roger!"
"Garp!"
Three battle maniacs. Three monsters.
Three names destined to be etched into legend.
Young pirates often believed that true strength could not be challenged—but the fiery hearts of the "Supernovas" knew the truth:
While youth burns, while will drives Haki, you fight, you rise—you evolve.
Roger and Garp had no Devil Fruits.
They forged their strength the hard way—through endless pain, endless training.
Because when surrounded by monsters gifted with fruits of power,
the only answer…
was to make your Haki stronger than theirs.
"You're both too young!" Rocks sneered, lightning flickering across his body.
"Thanks for the compliment!" Garp grinned and swung a bloodied fist.
Rocks caught it—darkness and petrification spreading along his arm—only to meet pure Haki resistance.
"Strong enough Haki fears no Devil Fruit!" Garp shouted, his teeth red with blood but his spirit unbroken.
Rocks paused for half a breath. Their eyes—brimming with courage and conviction—reminded him of his own youth.
"Don't get sentimental, Rocks," Roger cut in, his sword cleaving down. "The East Blue will never be yours!"
Their Haki clashed—shockwaves splitting land and sky. Air itself seemed to scream.
"This era…" Rocks declared, laughter echoing through the storm,
"—is called Rocks!"
And no one could deny it. Until someone defeated him, those words were truth itself.
Elsewhere, Shiki grit his teeth. "Newgate, that bastard Roger's even stronger now."
Whitebeard just smirked, raising his bisento.
"He's not the only one."
BAM!
Sengoku, in his Buddha form, unleashed a wave of golden energy, colliding with Whitebeard's quake punch. The clash shook the coastline.
"Newgate!" he shouted. "You've got the power to destroy the seas themselves! But you use it only to tear everything apart?"
"If Rocks wins, do you really think your homeland will be spared?"
His voice carried the weight of his fruit's hypnosis—forcing doubt.
Shiki, untouched, soared overhead, lighting another cigar and gripping his twin swords.
No one could stop him.
"Shiki, you bastard!" Rayleigh growled, stepping forward, blade drawn.
Behind him, Shakky moved to follow—but Fireblossom stopped her.
"Let them fight. Men like that need battle to feed their souls."
Shakky's eyes softened.
"Hey, Shakky," Rayleigh said with a grin, "when this war's over… open that bar we talked about."
"When my journey's done—I'll find you."
He swung his sword, blood speckling his white cloak.
"Real men," Shiki mocked, crossing his swords in an X, "don't need women to save them!"
Their blades met in a blast of steel and Haki, the shockwaves pulverizing the ground.
Nearby, Sharn and Kaido faced new challengers—Bogard, the sword master beside Garp, lunged at Sharn, while Zephyr confronted Kaido head-on.
"Bogard's strong," Kaido warned. "Go all out."
"Zephyr's stronger," Sharn smirked. "Don't hold back."
And so, the battlefield erupted anew—an ocean of gods and monsters,
each fighting to carve their name into history.
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