You know when someone you hate makes a really good point? Or when you lose a fight and the only person you can blame has the evidence to back up their side. That's what Varin was feeling right now.
It was such a stupid ultimatum. Either Varin was going to die here, broken and bleeding on this stone platform, or he let loose all his rage and became something feral. Something uncontrollable. And then he had to hope he won. Had to hope he didn't turn and slaughter everyone in the room, then the castle, then the island, then keep going until someone strong enough showed up to kill him.
Turning feral meant feral. It wasn't a switch he was sure he could flip back on. If Varin ever lost his mind to the wolf, there was no guarantee he was ever going to reclaim it. He lay there on the stone, breathing in short, painful gasps. Each breath sent sharp pain through his ribs. His side was a mass of bruising. When he moved even slightly, something inside his chest shifted in a way that made him want to scream.
Leif stood over him, waiting. Freyida was crying silently now, her eyes fixed on Varin. The Marines watched without moving.
Above them, the fortress continued to shake as the Straw Hats' assault raged on. Somewhere in those passages and corridors, Varin's crew was fighting. They were bleeding and dying, probably, pushing forward with the kind of reckless determination that only came from trying to save someone they cared about.
"Why?" Varin growled, his word hitching as he tried to push himself up onto his elbows. "What do you gain from this? You have a kid. A wife as well, I'd imagine. There's no benefit to not killing me right now, so why are you trying to help me?"
Leif was quiet for a moment. A small hum escaped him, barely audible even to Varin's heightened senses. "You're right," he said finally. "Nothing can be gained for me. Protocol dictates I should kill you and go kill the rest of your crew. And I'm sure you realize by now, they are no match for me if you aren't as for why? I don't think I can explain right now," Leif continued. "But should you survive this, you'll realize why later. Now, stop stalling, brother. Fight or die."
Varin stayed on his elbows, his body refusing to cooperate fully. "It's a lot harder than it fucking seems. I can't just snap my fingers and let that bastard loose."
"But you don't have a choice," Leif said, voice flat. Final. "Patience is not my virtue, brother, and it's running very thin."
"Just...give me another minute," Varin said. He stared at his brother's raised blade before he spoke again. His voice was quieter now, directed inward as much as outward. "You've been quiet so far. Actually, since we met a few days ago. Here I thought you'd be gloating. Or whining. Something like that."
"Gloating about what, you pathetic thing? Watching you stumble around like a newborn fawn? You walked into this willingly, so why would I bother opening my maw to speak about what was always going to happen?"
Varin's jaw clenched. "You could have helped. You could have said something useful instead of sitting in my skull like a stone."
"Helped?" Fenrir's laugh was harsh and crude, the sound of something ancient and utterly lacking in mercy. "You've had me bound inside your weak little body for how long now? And what have you done with the gift? Tried to be civilized. Tried to pretend you were something other than what the world made you. You ran from yourself and expected me to cheer about it. I didn't interfere because there was nothing to interfere with. You were destined to die the moment you left that rock; your luck just finally ran out."
"Then why are you talking now?" Varin demanded internally, his thoughts sharp and bitter. "If you're so certain about how this ends, why break your silence?"
"Because I want to see if you'd have the spine to actually do something with it or if you'd just keep whimpering about choice and morality like some soft-handed merchant's son."
Varin felt his claws extend fully, felt the shift happening in his body as the wolf pushed closer to the surface. "You're a parasite. You know that? You've been feeding off my life for years, and now you want to act like you're doing me a favor by showing up."
"A parasite?" Fenrir's voice dripped with disdain. "I'm the god here, boy. I've devoured things that would make your mind break if you tried to comprehend them. I've torn through divine flesh and drunk godly blood. And you have the audacity to call me a parasite? I'm bound to you because the universe decided we were meant to be together. I'm as thrilled about this arrangement as you are."
"At least I tried to be something more than just hunger and rage," Varin shot back. "At least I tried to be better than the worst impulses inside me."
"Better?" Fenrir's laughter was crude and mocking. "You stand here, beaten and broken, about to die; you brought your crew to a fortress full of Marines and government agents and expected them to survive. You let yourself be captured. You've been nothing but pathetic since I've known you."
"If you're so superior, then why haven't you devoured me?" Varin snarled back. "Why are we still having this conversation? Why not just take over completely?"
"Because you're the only container I have, you fool," Fenrir said bluntly. "Barely a container, but if you die, I'm back to my endless boredom until Ragnarok."
Varin felt something hot rise in his chest, something that was entirely his own anger. "You think you're so old and wise, but you're just bitter. You've spent millennia being angry about a fate you brought on yourself, and now you're taking it out on me."
"Brought on myself?" The wolf's voice was a snarl. "I was bound by forces older than your pathetic civilization. By threads woven by fate itself. And now I'm stuck inside the body of a coward who licks the boots of a boy who tries to befriend his enemies and show mercy to people who would gut him without hesitation."
"At least I have people who care if I live or die," Varin shot back. "What do you have? A thousand years of solitude and bitterness?"
"And you think that makes you superior?" Fenrir's tone was dripping with contempt. "You think having a crew makes you something special? They're all going to die down here, boy. Every single one of them. Because you were too weak to see the trap, and now you're standing in front of your own death, arguing with me about whether your softness makes you noble."
"At least they'd die trying to save me," Varin said, and there was something different in his thought now. Something fierce. "What have you ever saved? What have you ever protected?"
"Nothing," Fenrir laughed. "You truly are the dumbest possible host. I'm not a savior, boy. I'm a killer. A devourer. The ruler of your pitiful gods fears me. What do you have to your name?"
Varin scowled. "I have a crew," he repeated flatly. "I have people who would fight for me."
"People who would die for you, you mean," Fenrir corrected. "There's a difference, though I doubt your simple mind grasps it. They would die because you led them here. Because you made choices that put them in danger. That's not loyalty, boy. That's stupidity mirroring stupidity."
"Better than being alone for thousands of years," Varin shot back. "Better than being imprisoned and bitter and taking it out on the only thing you can actually touch."
"Alone?" Fenrir's voice was sharp as broken ice. "I wasn't alone, you fool. I had the world to devour. I had kingdoms and armies and divine beings to test myself against. And then I was bound. Trapped in chains forged by fate itself. And then you came along, inheriting my power while still thinking like a mortal child who believes friendship and loyalty matter against the weight of the world."
Varin pushed himself fully onto his feet now. The pain was still there, constant and grinding, but something underneath it had shifted. Something that didn't care about the pain anymore. "So what?" Varin said. "You're angry about your imprisonment, so you're going to drag me down with you? That's your grand plan? Keep me weak and broken so you can feel less alone in this body?"
"I've done nothing to keep you weak," Fenrir spat. "You've done that all by yourself. You've had my power for years and used it like a child uses a sword, swinging it around without understanding what it actually is. You've had centuries of my knowledge at your fingertips, and you've ignored it, choosing instead to listen to some girl with a sword and a captain with rubber limbs."
"At least they never tried to consume me from the inside out."
"Yet," Fenrir said simply. "Give them time. Everyone consumes everyone else, boy. The only difference between your precious crew and me is that I'm honest about it."
Leif's laugh cut through the moment harshly. The CP9 commander was actually laughing, a genuine sound that echoed across the arena platform. He lowered his sword slightly, still watching Varin with that expression of curious interest. "You're remarkable," Leif said between laughs. "I don't think I've ever actually heard someone argue with their own Devil Fruit before, but here you are, having a full conversation with something that's supposed to be just instinct." He wiped his eyes. "And from what I can understand from the one-sided conversation I can actually hear, the two of you sound exactly the same. You and that thing share more than just a body, brother. You share a nature."
"Kill him now," Fenrir snarled. The wolf's consciousness surged forward in Varin's mind, ancient and outraged. "Some pitiful mortal dare compare me to a whelp like you? Dare equate the devourer of gods to a sniveling human boy? Tear his throat out. Show him what it means to insult something that has consumed the very fabric of creation."
"Kinda the plan, mutt," Varin laughed. "...Fuck me, fine, then" he sighed. "I'll die anyway, might as well make a show of it."
Ever since his fight with Mister Three, there was a proverbial door in his mind, one that, after the few months since then, had cracked and bulged, nearly coming off its hinges the more Varin was pushed throughout his journey.
And why was he pushed? Because he was weak, because he was stupid. Because he was…a coward. Maybe not a coward in the normal sense, but he didn't trust his friends, his family; he was afraid of being pushed away, so he pushed himself, and he was tired of the worst being he knew being right.
The sound of a chain snapping echoed through the arena. It was an actual sound, physical and present, as if something ancient had broken free from invisible restraints. The stone beneath Varin's feet cracked from the force of the release.
And he began convulsing violently; the transformation that followed was different from anything that had come before. This wasn't the shift into wolf form. This was the war form, the true hybrid state where man and beast merged into something that was neither fully one nor the other. His frame expanded and shifted simultaneously. His bones cracked and reformed, becoming denser, more lethal. His spine curved slightly forward, his posture becoming something that was inherently predatory.
His height skyrocketed. Nine feet became ten, then eleven, then twelve as the transformation completed. His frame filled out with muscle that hadn't been there before, mass that came from allowing Fenrir to pour through him without resistance. His face remained partially human, but his jaw extended, his teeth becoming terrible and sharp. His eyes were completely black now, pupils lost in the darkness.
Fur rippled across his body, a deep grey that seemed to shift and move with its own momentum. His hands became something between claws and fingers, the tips extending into points that could tear through stone. His back legs were more obviously lupine, bent at angles that human legs could never achieve, granting him a stance that was simultaneously stable and ready to pounce.
When Varin opened his mouth, both his voice and Fenrir's came out, layered and resonant and utterly inhuman. But it didn't speak. Instead, it howled.
Zoro's blade clashed against his opponent's sword. The wolf-man across from him was good. A swordsman with the Wolf Fruit, which gave him both the technique of a trained fighter and the raw power of a Zoan user. Zoro had fought a lot of people. He'd faced the Straw Hats' enemies, Marine officers, bounty hunters. But this one was different. This one was the strongest thing he'd encountered since Enel, but this one wasn't arrogant and had plenty of real combat experience.
The wolf-man's sword came at him again, and Zoro had to commit his full focus just to keep the blade off his vital organs. His shoulder was bleeding. His arm was screaming from the constant exchanges. Then the howl came. The sound shook the entire fortress. Not metaphorically. Actually shook it. Stone dust rained down from the ceiling. The walls vibrated with a frequency that seemed to bypass the body entirely and settle directly in the bones.
Zoro's opponent dropped to his knees. The sword fell from his grip. For just a moment, the wolf-man's eyes went wide with something that looked like primal fear, as if something ancient and terrible had just announced its presence in the world. Though Zoro would be lying if he said he didn't feel it as well, though not as... aggressive as the man in front of him, his legs shook momentarily, and he almost broke the first rule of a swordsman: never drop your sword.
The howl faded, but its echo remained. The wolf-man's head snapped back up toward Zoro, but there was something different in his eyes now: shock and confusion, and the look of pure, untainted fear, bad enough that the man was shaking.
Varin's howl finished echoing through the fortress. The war form was complete now, the transformation absolute. His claws extended fully. His muscles tensed and released in preparation for the fight to come.
"Remember, brother, you asked for this," Varin said. His voice was raw and deep, but it was his own, at least for now.
Leif raised his sword just as Varin launched himself forward. The distance closed in a heartbeat as Varin moved with a speed that shouldn't be possible; his claws came at Leif from multiple angles, each strike carrying force that could tear through stone.
Leif blocked the first strike, using his blade to deflect the claw. But the force behind it sent him sliding backward across the platform. When his feet found purchase again, he didn't hesitate. He came forward with his own attack, using one of the Six Powers techniques to increase his speed.
Varin twisted, letting the blade pass inches from his chest. He swiped with his free arm, trying to take Leif's head off, but his brother ducked under the attack and came up with an upward strike aimed at Varin's exposed side.
This time, when the blade connected, it still cut, but not as deep. Varin felt the steel lodge itself in his muscle for a moment, one he used to rake his claws across Leif's chest, leaving deep enough gashes to make Leif gasp and jump back.
Once Leif had distance, he responded by shifting his size, growing larger to match Varin's increased mass. His frame expanded until he was fifteen feet once more, a size that didn't matter nearly as much now that Varin was nearly matched with it.
Varin came at him with a vicious combination. Claws and teeth and pure raw power, moving with an economy of motion that came from not thinking about what he was doing anymore. He was just doing it. Just fighting, just moving, just pushing forward with relentless determination.
Leif blocked and countered, his blade finding openings and exploiting them with surgical precision. Blood ran down both their bodies now. The arena platform was marked with gouges and cracks from their movements.
Freyida watched with her hands over her mouth. The Marines had stepped back further, clearly understanding that this was no longer a duel they could safely observe.
Varin pressed forward relentlessly. His claws came at Leif in patterns that were becoming harder to predict. There was no technique to it, no formal training. Just raw savage aggression, moving with the speed that came from abandoning any pretense of defense. Every attack was committed fully. Every movement was designed to kill.
Leif used his speed to dodge a swipe aimed at his throat. He moved with a burst of acceleration that made the air crack around him, stepping outside Varin's reach in a movement that was almost impossible to follow. But when he tried to counterattack, Varin was already moving to meet him, claws coming up to block the blade strike.
The impact sent both of them backward. Leif recovered first, using the momentum to launch himself upward, his body moving through the air as if gravity were merely a suggestion. He hung above Varin for just a moment, positioning himself for an overhead strike.
Varin didn't wait for the attack to come. He leaped upward, his massive frame moving with a speed that shouldn't be possible for something so large. His claws raked through the space where Leif had been, missing by inches as his brother twisted in midair.
They both landed, and Leif immediately hardened his body. His skin took on a metallic sheen, becoming rigid and nearly impenetrable. When Varin's claws came at him, they scraped against the hardened flesh but didn't pierce it. But Varin didn't stop. He kept attacking, using the hardened body as a surface to bounce off, his movements becoming more chaotic and harder to predict. Each strike failed to connect, but he wasn't trying to connect anymore. He was just pushing, pushing, pushing.
Leif released the hardening and shifted his strategy. He used a technique that made his body blur, moving so fast that he seemed to be in multiple places at once. When Varin turned to follow him, his brother was already behind him, blade raised for a strike aimed at the back of his neck.
Varin spun without thinking. His claws came up defensively, and he caught Leif's blade with his talons. The force of the collision sent sparks flying, and Varin pushed forward with his entire body weight, driving his brother backward across the platform.
Leif planted his feet and stopped the momentum, then used a technique that created a slashing wave of force directed directly at Varin's chest. The attack was invisible until the moment it hit, cutting through the air with devastating precision.
Varin twisted, letting the brunt of the attack pass by, but it still caught his shoulder, tearing a deep gash into his flesh. Blood sprayed across the stone, but Varin didn't hesitate. He closed the distance again, his claws raking across Leif's blade, forcing the man to step back.
Leif was breathing harder now. Not exhausted, but clearly feeling the strain of the constant assault. Varin's attacks were relentless. There was no pattern to anticipate, no technique to counter. Just raw, feral fury that adapted on the fly.
Varin pressed the advantage. He came at Leif with a vicious overhead strike, doing his absolute best to ensure his brother didn't get a moment to breathe. Leif blocked it, but the force behind it drove him to one knee. For just a moment, his brother was vulnerable.
Varin's other claws came up, aiming for Leif's exposed side. Leif moved with a burst of speed that barely matched the attack, his body slipping to the side by inches. He came up with a counterattack that was pure precision, the blade aimed at Varin's ribs. Varin twisted, taking the strike on his side instead of directly into his organs.
Leif came up from his kneeling position and drove his knee upward, trying to use his body as a weapon when his blade couldn't find clean openings. Varin sidestepped, his frame moving with an agility that was becoming increasingly inhuman. He came at his brother from a different angle, his claws aimed at Leif's throat.
Leif brought his sword up to block, but Varin was already shifting his attack pattern, using his brother's defensive blade as a springboard. He pushed off with his front legs and came at Leif from above, his entire weight bearing down in a strike that was pure predatory instinct.
They both went down. Leif hit the stone platform hard, Varin on top of him, claws coming down in rapid succession. His brother rolled, using the momentum to throw Varin off to the side. The wolf-man crashed against the arena's edge, cracking the stone but recovering instantly.
Varin was on his feet again, but something had shifted. His eyes had changed. The pupils had fully dilated, the irises becoming almost completely black. There was no recognition there anymore. No consciousness of who he was or what he was doing. He dropped to all fours.
The transformation in his movement was immediate and devastating. In the war form, standing upright, Varin had been constrained by the mechanics of a bipedal stance. But on all fours, he became something else entirely. His massive frame moved with the fluidity of a predator, each muscle group firing in perfect synchronization; he had gotten even faster.
Leif barely had time to get to his feet before Varin was coming at him again. The wolf-man's movement pattern was completely different now. He circled, his body low and ready to pounce. His breathing was heavy, each exhale carrying a growl that seemed to vibrate through the stone itself.
Varin lunged. The distance closed in what felt like a single heartbeat. Leif tried to sidestep, but the movement was too fast. One of Varin's claws caught him across the chest, tearing through the hybrid form's armor of undead flesh.
Leif spun, using his sword to slash downward at Varin's exposed back. The blade connected, drawing blood, but Varin didn't seem to notice. The wolf-man rolled with the strike, using the momentum to come up under Leif's guard. His claws came at his brother's face.
Leif threw up his arm defensively, and Varin's claws raked across the hardened flesh. The sound was terrible, like stone being torn apart. Leif pushed away from his attacker, creating distance by using another burst of speed.
Varin bounded across the arena platform with his massive frame, closing the distance before his brother could fully recover. The claws came at him from the side. Leif brought his blade up to block, but Varin's assault was relentless. Strike after strike, claw after claw, coming from angles that shouldn't be possible. There was no pattern to anticipate. No technique to counter. Just raw, feral savagery.
One of Varin's claws found Leif's shoulder and tore deep. Another caught his ribs. The Draugr form's fortitude was struggling now, the wounds staying open longer, blood flowing more freely.
Leif used a technique that made his body move at impossible speeds, appearing behind Varin's position. He brought his blade down in a strike aimed at the base of Varin's skull.
Varin's head snapped backward with inhuman flexibility, the blade passing millimeters from his spine. He twisted his entire frame, his four-legged stance giving him a range of motion that bipedal creatures couldn't achieve. His claws came around in a horizontal sweep.
Leif rolled backward to avoid the strike, but Varin was already moving, already pursuing. The wolf-man's jaws came open, and he snapped at the space where his brother had been a moment before. His teeth closed on empty air with enough force that the sound echoed across the arena.
Freyida had backed all the way against the far wall now, her small form pressed against the stone as she watched her father and uncle destroy each other. The Marines had retreated to the passage, clearly deciding this fight was beyond their ability to safely observe.
Leif got his feet under him and came up in a defensive stance. His breathing was ragged now. Blood ran down his chest and side from multiple wounds. "I've not been pushed like this for a while. I almost forgot the thrill of a straight fight," he laughed. "Come at me, Varin."