In the middle of the crater he himself had created, surrounded by dust, debris, and dozens of terrified stares unable to process what had just happened, Tiberion slowly raised his head. His crimson eyes narrowed, and his rage-twisted face relaxed slightly… only to curve into a ferocious smile.
"Clowns… useless scum who only know how to wield weapons to make up for their weakness. Your purity is simply too low."
"Trash like you could never hurt me… no matter how many times you try."
The Whitebeard Pirates immediately tensed up. Many clenched their jaws, others gripped their weapons tighter… but no one dared to speak. Not yet.
Tiberion scoffed disdainfully and, without hurry, grabbed the edge of the black shirt he was wearing. Then, with a single pull, he tore it off completely.
What was revealed was a physique beyond even Arnold Schwarzenegger.
A colossal body, sculpted as if the gods themselves had carved each muscle: shoulders like blocks of steel spheres, pecs jutting out like shields, lats spreading like wings, abs deeply defined, and arms filled with bulging veins that slithered beneath a thin layer of skin.
It was the body of a predator.
Then, as if he were marking his territory… Tiberion took a "dominance" stance.
He raised both arms in a wide arc above his head, hands open and fingers curved like claws, as if he were about to crush the air between them.
His chest puffed out, his back arched slightly backward, and the tension in every muscle of his body became so visible it bordered on grotesque.
At that moment, every inch of him screamed superiority.
"It would be better if all of you died right here… wiped out by me, Tiberion Hanma!"
And right after, he began to advance. Step by step.
Each footfall sounded like a war drum in the silence.
His eyes were locked on Vista, but his aura enveloped everyone equally.
A thick, murderous pressure oozed from him, seeping through the pores, polluting the air, making it hard to even breathe.
The Whitebeard Pirates, seething inside but shaken on the outside, clenched their teeth.
They knew they had to move.
"Pff! What an arrogant bastard!" scoffed Fossa, commander of the Fifteenth Division. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, and his sword, wrapped in flames, crackled with bloodlust.
"All Fifteenth Division members, with me! Let's kill this guy!"
"That's right! Even if he's got fists of steel, we'll take him down through sheer attrition! Charge!"
"Don't go thinking you're a Yonko! We're pirates! Whitebeard's crew doesn't cower before anyone!"
Dozens of pirates charged after him.
Some licked their lips, others rubbed their palms eagerly. A few dragged their blades across their tongues, drooling—clearly aroused.
They walked like a pack of wolves… and yet, every step they took toward Tiberion was like another grain of sand falling in the countdown to their deaths.
"Yahahaha! This feeling… this damn excitement! It's finally here!" Rakuyo, commander of the Seventh Division, roared as he swung his spiked flail above his head with brutal force.
His eyes, injected with adrenaline, reflected a ravenous thirst for blood.
"SEVENTH DIVISION, ADVANCE! I'LL CRUSH THAT SON OF A BITCH WITH MY BARE HANDS!"
Beside him, the rest of the commanders didn't hesitate. This was the moment. If they allowed that bastard to keep breathing, not only would they be killed one by one, but Whitebeard's entire reputation would fall into absolute disgrace.
And if there was one thing they couldn't tolerate… it was losing the world's respect.
"EVERYONE, ATTACK! NO MATTER THE COST—KILL HIM!"
Like a dark tide, dozens of pirates surged forward.
But what happened in the seconds that followed...
Was not a battle. It was an execution.
Tiberion didn't back down, didn't even avert his gaze. He simply stepped forward—and his figure seemed to multiply.
His first punch, thrown with his bare hand, struck the skull of a pirate charging straight at him—shattering it like a rotten fruit.
Splat
Brain matter, blood, and shards of bone splattered onto the crewmate running just behind.
But Tiberion didn't even glance at him. He had already pivoted on his heel, unleashing a spinning kick that slammed into the torsos of three pirates at once.
The first was split in half at the waist. The second was sent flying through the air with collapsed lungs, and the third… simply never got up again. His spine had snapped like a dry twig.
"SHIIIIIT—AAAAARGH!" screamed another, just before Tiberion ripped his leg clean off with an upward twist of the arm, like tearing apart a chicken.
The leg was still bleeding when Tiberion used it as a club, smashing two more pirates in the face with it—caving their skulls in.
One of their eyes dangled from its socket, still barely connected by the optic nerve.
"NOOOOO! STAY AWAY FROM HIM!"
"HE'S KILLING EVERYONE LIKE BUGS!"
"WHAT KIND OF MONSTER IS THIS?!"
But it was useless. Tiberion had activated his berserker mode with the Bloodthirsty Eye.
He needed to kill.
Anything that entered his range was crushed, split, impaled, or torn apart.
Blood coated his arms, his chest, and his face—splattered as if he had emerged from a crimson swamp.
And his smile… was still there, carved into his face like a living nightmare.
In less than a minute…
More than thirty pirates were dead.
A hundred more lay sprawled on the ground with broken bones, punctured organs, or simply in shock—unable to move.
The banquet hall floor had become a thick pool of blood.
Then, at last, fear took hold of everyone.
"Don't get close to him! He's too strong in close combat! Don't face him head-on!"
"FUCK! WE'RE WHITEBEARD'S PIRATES AND HE'S SLAUGHTERING US!"
"THIS ISN'T A HUMAN!"
"Damn it… it's not just strength anymore. This guy fights like he's killed thousands before! He leaves no openings! He doesn't miss! He doesn't get tired!"
How were they supposed to fight against something like that?
"C-Commander… suddenly… I feel like I need to pee…"
A trembling voice came from a low-ranking pirate. The young man, barely in his twenties, stood with shaking legs—his pants already soaked down to the knees.
Everything was too cruel.
He had watched his comrades die with a single punch. Some without a head. Others with half their bodies gone. Others had simply been erased.
"Commander!" another one screamed in desperation. "There's only a few dozen of us left! Everyone else is down… there's no way we're doing anything like this! This is madness!"
His words weren't betrayal. They were the echo of what everyone was thinking.
Fear had already won.
Not a single one of them wanted to keep fighting.
Even the eight commanders, circling the massacre with weapons still in hand, didn't know how to react. In less than a minute, their forces had been decimated. A single man had butchered them like insects.
The plan to wear him down had been stupid.
"You thought you could 'wear him down'?" muttered one pirate, teeth clenched, "We're not facing a man… this is something else…"
Deep down, even the strongest among them knew one thing:
This level of strength… was comparable to the Hero of the Marines himself—Garp.
But the terrifying thing wasn't just that. It wasn't the strength.
It was the brutality, the emotional void, the bloodlust that made him insatiable.
Not even Garp, with all his fame, had ever been as monstrously ruthless as this Tiberion Hanma.
It was then that Vista stepped forward.
With both swords still sheathed, he spoke in a voice that was firm yet calm.
"Alright… those who remain, take the wounded. Get everyone still breathing out of here. Bring them somewhere safe."
He paused briefly, and his gaze grew more resolute.
"Whatever comes next… leave it to us. The eight of us will deal with him."
No one objected after that. Some pirates began retreating, carrying the wounded. No one tried to act brave—because what they had seen was enough to break anyone.
The commanders stepped forward, forming a defensive circle. Each one activated their Observation and Armament Haki, fully prepared for the confrontation.
In front of them, Tiberion stood completely still.
The rage that had surrounded him moments ago… was now gradually fading.
His pupils, once scarlet and filled with madness, had returned to their original dark red shade.
Everything seemed to calm down.
But not his presence—and not his arrogance.
"Hm…"
Tiberion lowered his shoulders slightly, as if he no longer had anything to prove.
"In three minutes," he said in a calm voice, "I'll bring all of you down."
He stepped forward—not rushing, not assuming any fighting stance. His gaze was pure indifference, as if he were looking at dying animals.
"And if any of you manage to survive…"
"…Tell Whitebeard that if he wants to die, he can come find me anytime."
"Hmph… How arrogant."
Curiel, frowning deeply, spat on the ground in disdain. Even after everything they had witnessed, he still refused to accept the overwhelming superiority of that monster.
"You might have terrifying brute strength, but compared to our father… you're still not qualified to say things like that."
His words, heavy with pride for Whitebeard, had barely been spoken when the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
Tiberion, who had remained motionless, merely tilted his head slightly.
A whisper of rage flashed across his face, like lightning splitting the sky.
"Ah… I remember now…" he muttered, "You again…"
And in the blink of an eye—without giving even a chance to react—he vanished from the spot.
By the time everyone present could blink again, he was already standing right in front of Curiel.
Curiel didn't have time to think. On reflex, he raised both pistols and fired at point-blank range.
"Die, you bastard!"
Bang
Bang
Bang
Bang
Four shots.
But Tiberion barely moved his head—tilting it to the left, then to the right. The bullets brushed past his hair.
And before Curiel could even process the impossibility of what he had just witnessed…
A massive hand, veined and throbbing like living roots, grabbed him by the neck.
"Ghrrkk!?"
Curiel's face turned pale instantly. He tried to fire again, but his fingers wouldn't respond. Tiberion had him completely restrained.
The other commanders froze. Not even Vista, Rakuyo, or Fossa could move. Tiberion had appeared so fast that for a moment, no one knew what to do.
Rakuyo was the first to react.
"Let him go right now, you son of a bitch! If you don't, I swear I'll blow your damn head off!"
Tiberion smiled again.
But it wasn't a normal smile.
It was the cruel grin of a lion surrounded by mice.
"Hahahahaha…" he chuckled mockingly, "Judging by your face, you don't look too bright. No… actually, none of you seem very bright."
And he slowly turned his head toward all of them.
"Did you really think this caught me off guard?"
"All of this… every word you said, every step you took, I've already simulated in my mind hundreds of times."
"Since this battle began, I've anticipated at least a hundred possible scenarios. And one by one, they've played out exactly as I predicted."
"I've got you completely figured out."
Leaning in slightly, he brought his face closer to Curiel's, who was now weakly kicking.
"Even this exact moment."
"But what disappoints me the most…" he continued, with a hint of disgust, "Is that not even in death could any of you pose a real threat to me."
"And I deeply despise… when the weak try to threaten me."
Narrowing his eyes, he increased the pressure in his grip. The veins in his forearm bulged.
Crack
Curiel's neck twisted. His body convulsed once… and then went completely limp.
And Tiberion let him go like a bag of garbage.
The lifeless body hit the ground with a dull thud, eyes rolled back, tongue hanging out.
But Tiberion wasn't finished.
He placed a foot on him.
He stepped on Curiel's chest. Glanced at him… then turned his gaze toward the rest.
"Come on. It's time to settle this."
"The price for interfering in my wedding with my Shirahoshi… will be that all of you die here."
He paused briefly, still smiling.
"Or maybe… just maybe… one of you will manage to escape this island alive."
Vista, Rakuyo, Fossa, Whitey Bay… all the commanders still standing watched, helpless, as Curiel's body hit the ground lifelessly after that sickening neck snap.
The scene was so sudden, the world seemed to stop for a few seconds. Their minds went blank, refusing to accept that one of their own had been killed so easily.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Rakuyo roared, completely losing control.
His eyes were blazing with fury. The veins in his neck bulged to the limit, and with a savage scream, he coated his spiked flail in Armament Haki.
Swoosh
The air compressed and whistled violently as the ball flew, generating a shockwave that distorted space. It was as if a miniature meteor had been launched.
But Tiberion let it come and stepped forward.
His long red hair billowed like a lion's mane. The muscles in his right arm contracted, each fiber perfectly outlined, and just as the weapon was about to reach him…
!
He caught it with a single hand.
The spiked flail trembled as it was stopped abruptly. The ground beneath Tiberion's feet cracked, unable to absorb the pressure of the impact that had been completely blocked—yet his hand didn't even bleed.
And in less than a tenth of a second, he returned it.
The same arm that had stopped the flail moved again, this time like a reversed lightning strike. The flail was hurled back at Rakuyo with such force that it seemed to vanish from sight.
CRACK
"AAAAAAGHHH!"
Rakuyo's face was completely destroyed.
The impact shattered his skull. Bones, teeth, and blood flew in all directions, splattering across the floor and the feet of his crewmates. His body dropped heavily to the ground.
"…"
The other commanders didn't even have time to blink. It had happened so fast their brains couldn't connect the cause with the result. Some tried to react with Observation Haki, but it was useless. The distance was too short, and Tiberion's speed—utterly insane.
"W-What…!?"
The collective murmur came as one.
Rakuyo—had been annihilated like an insect, with his own weapon. And Tiberion hadn't even needed to use both hands.
Worse still, that speed, that ability to read movements, that precision…
It was as if Tiberion had predicted not only their attacks—but even their future reactions. As if he already knew what they'd think before they did.
Vista finally broke the silence.
He stepped forward once again, his expression more serious and fierce than ever. Rage burned in his eyes.
"Damn you, Tiberion Hanma!" he shouted, his voice full of restrained fury. "Face me like a warrior… not like a butcher."
He slowly unsheathed both swords as his swordsman's aura spread like a storm.
He knew that if he didn't awaken fully right now… his brothers would be slaughtered.
________
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