A deep, bone-rattling cry tore through the ocean air, a sound so raw, so ancient, it echoed for miles—like the anguished roar of the very sea itself. It was the rage of a wounded titan, the soul-shaking cry of a beast that had suffered long, loved deeply, and now fought with all it had left. The cry of Laboon, the island whale, thundered across Twin Cape.
Then came the massive shape—Laboon's mountainous, scarred body breaching the ocean's surface like a tidal wave given life. The sky seemed to darken beneath his shadow as he launched himself toward the towering mechanical construct that loomed at the edge of the cape.
"Laboon, NOOOOO!" Crocus screamed, his voice hoarse, bloodied lips trembling as he watched his old friend charge into near-certain death.
Crocus, the former ship doctor of the Pirate King, stood battered and bruised. His once-pristine flower patterned shirt was torn and stained crimson, his harpoon cracked and scorched from clashing against a monster. Yet he still stood—weathered, defiant, unbending.
Before him, rising like a god of war, stood Douglas Bullet—a twisted colossus born of steel and wrath. His towering armored construct now stood nearly a hundred meters tall, an abomination of metal, muscle, and malice. Bullet's aura pulsed with overwhelming Conqueror's Haki, its lightning crackling violently around him, wreathing his enormous form in veins of purple electricity.
"Kahahahaha!" Bullet's laughter rang like a cannon blast, shaking the cliffs. "I was wondering how to make you spit out the truth without killing you, but it seems you want to be stubborn until the end, Crocus-san."
He raised his construct's massive right arm—easily the size of a marine battleship—coated in jet-black Armament Haki and streaked with crackling tendrils of Conqueror's Haki infusion. The metal groaned under the weight of his killing intent as he aimed directly at Laboon.
"So, tell me… will you finally reveal where the Eternal Log Pose is hidden, if I kill this mindless beast right in front of you?" he spat, eyes burning with wicked glee.
Laboon—scarred from previous battles, blood trailing from old wounds reopened—still surged forward, undeterred. Every fiber of his being fought to protect Crocus, despite being thrown back time and time again. It was loyalty beyond reason. It was love.
"BULLET, YOU BASTARD!!" Crocus roared, pain and fury merging into one. His broken body moved on instinct, lunging forward—not to attack, but to protect. He planted himself in the direct path of Bullet's monstrous blow, shielded only by the last of his resolve.
And that was what Bullet had waited for.
In that heartbeat of vulnerability—Crocus exposed, focused entirely on defense—Bullet struck.
The massive fist tore through the air like a meteor. Crocus reacted just in time, haki surging to his harpoon, and he met the blow with a cry of defiance.
"BOOOOM!!"
The world shattered. The impact created a deafening shockwave, sending hurricane-force winds in all directions. The sea itself recoiled, waves crashing back as Laboon was hurled off course, his charge broken mid-air, body twisting before slamming into the ocean like a falling mountain.
But the price was heavy.
Crocus, still reeling from the block, had no time to recover—no breath, no moment. The second fist came crashing down from above, a monstrous hammer blow descending like divine judgment. It blotted out the sky, and this time, Crocus couldn't dodge.
CRACK-KOOOOOOM!
The ground split open. The very earth beneath Twin Cape screamed as Crocus was slammed into it with apocalyptic force. A crater hundreds of meters wide burst open in a wave of shattered stone and debris, obliterating the surrounding cliffside.
The once-beautiful Twin Cape, long a landmark to those entering the Grand Line, was now a smoking ruin. The famous lighthouse—once a shining beacon guiding thousands of ships—collapsed in a heap of rubble, its legacy lost beneath the dust.
Douglas Bullet stood tall, unscathed, roaring in victorious rage as his monstrous construct raised its fists once again. He relished the destruction, the collapse of a symbol, the death of resistance.
"Kahahaha! You thought you could stop me?! This world belongs to the strong!"
But from beneath the rubble, the cracked ground pulsed faintly with haki… and a low, groaning breath echoed once more from the ocean as Laboon's bloodied back surfaced again—alive, and still not giving up.
The titanic war machine began to shrink.
Douglas Bullet's colossal armored construct, once towering at nearly a hundred meters, contracted and condensed down to a still-formidable twenty meters. Steam hissed from the joints, and cracks spiderwebbed across plates of steel as Bullet disengaged excess mass. His breath came heavier now—labored but controlled—his body straining after a full day of brutal combat.
The air above the ruined Twin Cape was thick with dust and the metallic taste of blood. Below, in the center of the vast crater his last blow had carved into the earth, Crocus lay broken but not beaten—his ribs cracked, arm limp, harpoon shattered beside him. Blood oozed from a dozen wounds, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed.
Bullet stood tall above the rim of the crater, casting a long shadow over the veteran pirate. "Kahahaha!" His twisted laughter echoed through the broken cliffs. "So tell me, Crocus-san... are you going to tell me what I want? Or are you going to die like the rest who defied me?"
He let the words hang in the air, heavy as the silence that followed.
Because even Douglas Bullet—mad with power and pride—knew. Knew that time was not his ally. That others, the true monsters of the Roger Pirates, might not be far behind. And while he stood tall in arrogance, he was not a fool.
Crocus coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips, staining his beard and shirt. Yet even now, he chuckled. A deep, gurgling rasp full of defiance.
"Ptui!" He spat a wad of blood toward Bullet's feet.
"I may die here today, you arrogant little bastard..." he growled, voice rasping like crushed gravel, "...but mark my words—I'll be waiting for you in hell, and your death... your screaming, Bullet... will be anything but pleasant."
He grinned wide—bloodied teeth bared like a beast's. A man ready to meet death with laughter.
Bullet's fury ignited, his aura exploding like a wildfire.
"Fine. If you want death, then I'll grant it to you, you senile relic!" he roared, fury tearing through his throat. "And when I'm done, I'll hunt down every last member of the Roger Pirates. I'll wipe your legacy from history! Then the world will know—I surpassed Gol D. Roger!"
With that, Bullet raised both massive arms high. His remaining construct, still radiating Armament and Conqueror's Haki, surged with purple lightning as he prepared to bring down the finishing blow.
The air cracked with tension. But just as the colossal fists began to descend—
"TSSHHHAAAANK!"
A howling cross-slash of pure energy ripped through the battlefield like divine judgment. It split the sky and carved through Bullet's twenty-meter form like a hot blade through parchment. The steel construct was torn in half, halves clanging to the earth with thunderous force as shattered chunks of armor and gears scattered across the cape.
Bullet cursed, his instincts saving him in the final instant—he'd disconnected from the armor, leaping back just in time. Had he remained inside, he would've been cleaved in two. Still, his body skidded through rubble as he landed hard, teeth clenched in disbelief.
The dust cleared. And there, standing atop the wreckage of the shattered lighthouse—the final remnant of the old Twin Cape—stood a figure like a ghost from the past.
Scopper Gaban.
In his fifties now, but still a force of nature. His bronzed, battle-hardened body rippled with strength honed by decades at sea. A sleeveless jacket fluttered in the wind, exposing a torso marked with old scars like badges of honor. A single, gleaming battle axe rested on his right shoulder, while in his left hand he casually spun a second, similar battle axe—twirling it between his fingers like a toy, despite its deadly edge.
His eyes, cold and sharp beneath wind-tossed hair, never once glanced at Bullet.
He was focused elsewhere—his Observation Haki locked onto Crocus, silently gauging his condition. Only once he confirmed his crewmate still drew breath did Gaban speak.
"You talk too much for a failure who couldn't live up to Roger's expectations," he said flatly. No flourish. No shouting. Just truth—delivered like a blade to the gut.
The words struck deeper than any wound. Bullet's face twisted, pure hate warping his features as he scrambled to his feet, disbelief and rage mingling in his bloodshot eyes.
"Scopper Gaban..." he hissed.
The name left his mouth like a curse. A name from an age long past. A name that still terrified those who understood the strength behind the Pirate King's left hand, his power was considered to be on par with the Dark King himself earning him the title of left hand of the Pirate King.
Gaban descended from the lighthouse ruins with measured steps, every movement calm but coiled with power. As he walked, he drew both axes—now crackling with Haki—and let their blades drag across the rock, leaving thin glowing trails in their wake.
Bullet's fists clenched, his Conqueror's Haki flaring in response, lightning arcing around him once more. But Gaban smiled for the first time—a thin, cruel grin.
"Let's see if your arrogance can survive this."
The air turned electric. Haki, thick and suffocating, rippled across the ruined coast of Twin Cape like a storm given form. Lightning arced in the sky, drawn unnaturally by the clashing wills of two titans. Douglas Bullet stood amidst the wreckage, steam still rising from the remains of his shattered construct, fists clenched, veins bulging. He was breathing hard now, blood trickling down his forehead, mixing with the grime and steel dust.
Across from him, Scopper Gaban strode calmly over the crumbled stones, each step deliberate, precise. His twin battle axes glinted beneath the overcast sky, both already coated with Armament Haki so dense it shimmered purple-black. His body radiated quiet fury—controlled, honed, lethal.
Bullet roared and launched himself forward, his feet tearing a trench through the earth as he closed the gap in a blur of muscle and rage. He swung a massive haki-clad fist toward Gaban, the air shrieking from the force.
CLANG!
The impact rang like a gong as Gaban caught the punch cleanly with one axe, not even flinching. His other axe moved in a blur, carving a deep gash across Bullet's ribs. Blood sprayed. Bullet howled in pain and fury, stumbling back, but Gaban was already on him.
"Too slow," Gaban said coldly.
He ducked a counterstrike, twisted his hips, and drove his axe into Bullet's gut. The blow lifted the hulking pirate off his feet and sent him crashing through a jagged boulder, stone erupting like shrapnel. Before Bullet could rise, Gaban closed the distance again.
The clash turned one-sided quickly.
Bullet unleashed a flurry of attacks—punches, kicks, haki-coated elbow drops. Each strike carried the weight of monstrous strength, amplified by the latent rage of a man rejected by fate itself. But Gaban was water to Bullet's hammer: flowing, redirecting, countering with lethal precision.
Every time Bullet attacked, Gaban punished him.
A haki-infused roundhouse from Bullet was dodged by a hair. Gaban twisted mid-air and brought the haft of his axe down on Bullet's shoulder. The bone cracked audibly.
"You think brute force is enough to reach the top? Roger never relied on strength alone," Gaban growled.
Bullet spat blood. "Don't speak his name!"
He slammed his fists into the ground, sending shockwaves erupting like bombs. The earth split, pillars of stone launching upward. Gaban darted between them, moving like a phantom. A blur of speed and precision.
He emerged behind Bullet mid-attack and slashed an "X" across Bullet's back, deep enough to expose bone. Bullet screamed and twisted to retaliate, but Gaban was gone again, already repositioned.
"You never understood," Gaban said, voice quiet. "Strength without conviction is just destruction."
Bullet roared, Conqueror's Haki surging outward in a massive dome, tearing into the cliffs and sending flocks of birds fleeing. Gaban stood firm as the wave slammed into him. His own Haki erupted in answer, gold and violet threads spiraling out from his body in a disciplined vortex.
The haki clash split the sky. The ocean surrounding Twin Cape churned into whirlpools. The lighthouse ruins crumbled to dust. Crocus, lying battered at the crater's edge, could only watch with wide eyes as the storm of willpower raged.
"You still don't get it, do you?" Gaban's voice came through the chaos, calm as ever. "You were never going to surpass Roger. You were never even going to match us."
Bullet bellowed and rushed forward again, pulling two jagged slabs of steel from the debris to use as makeshift weapons. He imbued them with Armament Haki and swung both in a berserker frenzy. Gaban caught both with crossed axes, sparks and lightning erupting from the point of contact.
He pushed forward, overpowering Bullet's raw might with perfect form and monstrous control. The ground cratered beneath them.
Then Gaban twisted his axes, breaking Bullet's guard, and slammed the butt of one handle into Bullet's throat. The larger man gagged, staggered back—
WHAM!
A spinning axe slammed into Bullet's temple. The pirate went down hard, smashing face-first into the rubble. He tried to rise, blood pouring down the side of his face, but Gaban didn't stop. He descended like a force of nature.
A kick to the ribs sent Bullet flying. An axe slash across the thigh crippled his stance. Then Gaban flipped his axe, gripped the handle in reverse, and brought the flat end down on Bullet's spine with the full weight of his body behind it.
CRACK.
Bullet screamed. His limbs twitched, muscles spasming as pain exploded through his body. But despite the punishment, Bullet managed to channel his devil fruit powers again to clash with the newcomer with full force.
"You never belonged on Roger's crew," Scopper Gaban said coldly, his voice echoing across the shattered remains of the Twin Cape.
He stood tall among the debris, the wind tugging at his long coat, battle-axes still gleaming in each hand. His eyes, sharp as the day he'd sailed with the Pirate King, locked onto the monstrous figure before him.
"Roger gave you a chance," he continued, stepping forward through the dust-choked air, "despite knowing what you were. He believed you could change. But you—" Gaban's tone darkened, "you spat on his memory. You defiled everything we stood for."
Douglas Bullet's massive frame trembled—not with fear, but with rising fury. His teeth clenched, muscles bulging as haki-infused energy crackled like wildfire around his armored body. The accusation cut deeper than any weapon.
"You think you have what it takes to be Pirate King...?" Gaban scoffed, his lips curling in disdain. "Imbecile."
The word hit Bullet like a thunderclap. His Conqueror's Haki surged, purple lightning erupting from his form as the earth itself split around him. With a bellow of rage, he activated the awakened powers of the Gasha Gasha no Mi, plunging his will deep into the bedrock of Reverse Mountain. Iron, stone, ancient shipwrecks—every material within miles twisted, screamed, and raced toward him like metal to a magnet.
"Then witness true might!!" Bullet roared, his voice shattering what remained of the lighthouse.
His body swelled, armor plating forming, towers of metal entwined into the grotesque shape of a titan. Larger than ever before, even greater than when he fought Crocus, his final form now stood like an unholy colossus—a mountain of steel and rage.
Steam hissed from joints the size of battleships. Cannon-barrel arms glowed with energy. His crimson eyes gleamed through the slitted helm of a nightmarish war-god.
But Gaban? He didn't move. He didn't even flinch. He stood calmly, watching the transformation unfold, one hand casually resting on the shaft of his battle axe.
"Do your worst, Bullet." Gaban's voice was almost serene. "Let me show you the true difference between the apex and your delusions. Let me show you what it truly means to stand at the top."
Bullet finished assimilating the last pieces of earth and wreckage, his form now blotting out the sun. His Conqueror's Haki poured out in torrents, setting the skies ablaze in black lightning. He raised a fist—larger than an entire ship—and with a burst of Soru, the giant form vanished for a split second, only to reappear directly above Gaban.
"DIEEEEEEEE!" Bullet's thunderous bellow shook the heavens.
The monstrous arm descended like judgment from the gods, aiming to pulverize Gaban into nothing but dust and legend. But Gaban? He simply raised one axe. And the world held its breath.
In that instant, everything—wind, sound, time itself—seemed to freeze. The clouds above halted. The crashing waves ceased. Even the tremors beneath the earth quieted as if in anticipation.
"Yasotakeru: Final Judgment."
The axe shone with a radiance unlike any other, imbued with Armament and Conqueror's Haki so refined, so utterly supreme, it tore reality itself along its blade's edge.
Gaban swung. One slash. A single, clean arc of brilliance. And in that moment, Bullet's titanic arm—this colossus of metal, hatred, and ambition—was cleaved apart.
No resistance. No cry of steel. It didn't break. It disintegrated. The entire limb, from shoulder to fist, unraveled like ash in the wind, the Haki-infused construct utterly unraveled by the purity of Gaban's strike.
The sky exploded with the force of the clash. Black lightning forked across the heavens as a dome of haki burst outward, pushing back the sea for miles. The shockwave was so immense it cracked the sea floor beneath Reverse Mountain and sent tsunamis spiraling in every direction.
Bullet staggered back, the massive form unbalanced, already beginning to crumble. He roared in rage, pain, and disbelief as another piece of the armor construct was torn away—not by an attack, but by the sheer presence of Gaban's haki still radiating from the slash.
"This... this can't be...!" Bullet growled. "No one should have this power! Not anymore!"
"You always thought strength meant power over others," Gaban said, stepping forward through the fading dust, his axe still humming with power. "But Roger taught us... true strength is in the will to protect. To carry others on your back. You never understood that."
With a sudden surge of movement, Gaban blurred through the air, reappearing midair above Bullet's crumbling form.
"You don't deserve to wear the name of a Pirate King aspirant." He crossed both axes, haki swirling into a cyclone between them.
"Let me carve that truth into your bones."
"Heaven-Shattering Cross!"
With both axes descending in an X-shaped arc, the sky itself split as the twin blades ripped through Bullet's construct, bisecting the titan down the middle. The explosion of energy that followed was cataclysmic—light and thunder howled in unison as the colossal construct erupted into a firestorm of obliterated debris.
"Aaaaargh!" The monstrous construct roared as the shattered half, within which Bullet was embedded, began to reform rapidly. Rage overtook any semblance of logic Bullet had left. He felt humiliated; he had always believed he could defeat the remnants of Roger's pirates whenever he desired, only refraining because he deemed it troublesome.
But now, confronted with the stark difference between himself and Gaban, he felt ashamed—a shame that only fueled his fury. Channeling his anger into his powers, the entire island and seabed for miles responded to Bullet's call. His Devil Fruit powers tapped into the very essence of the earth, assimilating not just earth and metal, but even molten lava into his construct.
"So what if Roger managed to gain the title of Pirate King?" Bullet's voice thundered. "He was a coward! He ran away despite having all that power. But I, Douglas Bullet, once I find the One Piece, I will rule over this world as its god!" His Conqueror's Haki soared, causing the heavens to shift, dark clouds to form, and thunderstorms to rage.
Gaban, who had been merely cold earlier, now shifted to a dangerous demeanor as Bullet insulted the memory of his captain. His hands tightened around his twin axes.
"I thought I would leave you a full corpse for old times' sake," Gaban said, his voice low and menacing. "But it seems you desire a brutal death. So be it. Let this be the final lesson for you from the Roger Pirates."
Bullet's form grew even more monstrous, assimilating molten lava into his construct. The lava flowed through his massive arms, forming a colossal warhammer that radiated intense heat and destructive power. With a roar, he swung the molten weapon towards Gaban, the air sizzling and distorting from the sheer heat.
Gaban launched himself forward, his axes gleaming with Haki. The clash was cataclysmic. Each strike between Gaban and Bullet sent shockwaves that shook the seas, the very fabric of the island trembling under their might. The sky was torn asunder by the sheer force of their Haki-infused attacks, red lightning crackling with each collision.
Bullet, wielding his lava-infused warhammer, unleashed a barrage of devastating blows, each capable of leveling mountains. Gaban, with unmatched agility and precision, countered each strike, his axes dancing through the air, leaving trails of energy in their wake. The ground beneath them crumbled, the sea churned violently, and the heavens wept as the two titans clashed.