"Are you here?"
"Ah… it seems today, I'll really die in your hands."
"Ragnar…"
Aokiji — Kuzan, former Marine Admiral — looked up as the draconic figure of Ragnar surged forward, heat waves distorting the frozen air.
His expression held no fear.
Only a wry smile.
Bitterness. Helplessness. And above all, a detached calm, like a man who had already made peace with the end.
He had fought with everything he had.
The awakened power of the Hie Hie no Mi had reached its limit. Even the fire in his long-stilled heart had been rekindled — that buried will to fight, forged during years as an admiral.
But…
There was still a gap.
The difference between a former admiral and a sovereign-level monster like Ragnar — an emperor in all but name — was like a chasm. One not even frozen seas could bridge.
Unless someone interfered… there was no turning the tide.
"Admiral Kuzan!"
Ragnar's roar split the air like a blade, trailing pressure that distorted the sky.
His golden-draconic form surged through the clouds, shattering the sound barrier, scales glowing with searing heat.
"Hot Breath!"
The air trembled.
Without mercy or hesitation, Ragnar released it — a torrent of flame dense enough to boil oceans and vaporize steel. The blazing cone surged down, burning a path through sky and sea alike.
"Ice Age: Pheasant Spear."
Kuzan's voice was hoarse. But his will did not falter.
Even as flesh burned and blood steamed off his skin, he raised his frostbitten arm. A bird of ice — large enough to rival a battleship — formed midair, wings curling protectively.
It clashed with the hellfire.
For a moment — just a moment — ice and fire struggled.
Then the bird shattered.
The frozen barrier evaporated into mist.
And the heat swallowed him whole.
"AAAHH!"
Flames wrapped around him. His coat disintegrated. His body — hardened by Armament Haki — could only slow the inferno, not stop it.
The searing energy cracked his skin, exposed bone, boiled blood.
But he did not fall.
Not yet.
Ragnar knew that one strike wasn't enough. An admiral was no glass cannon.
Especially not Kuzan, whose elemental resistance to heat was second to none among logia types.
Even critically injured, the man was still formidable.
"Shigan Ryū: Inducing Naraku."
Ragnar descended like a comet, fist drawn back. Lightning-like black tendrils — Conqueror's Haki laced with advanced Armament — danced around his claws.
The sky split.
The ice cracked.
His dragon-fused claws slammed forward — not from above, but piercing directly into Kuzan's chest, crushing ice, Haki, and bone.
Kuzan gasped, body twitching.
His hands, charred and barely functional, grasped Ragnar's arm — not to fight back, but on instinct. A final reflex before the void claimed him.
He could feel his internal organs freezing and shattering from within. The implosion of force, the black lightning, and the fire — it overwhelmed even a logia.
"Damn… so this is it…"
A sliver of a smile curved on his lips.
"Old man Garp… I'm sorry."
"I might really be the first admiral… to die at a pirate's hand."
He began to let go.
Then—
BOOM!!
A thunderous pulse of energy shook the sky.
Kuzan's heavy eyelids cracked open.
Ragnar's eyes blazed with scarlet fury, his pupils slit like a beast's, veins bulging from his temple.
"YOU... STILL BREATHE?!"
A voice, demonic and thunderous, exploded with rage.
Then, there was a deafening explosion that tore through the sky.
BOOM—!!
Crackling with malevolent force, black lightning burst out, laced with terrifying willpower.
In midair, two massive auras, one blazing gold and the other burning red, collided with titanic force.
The already fractured heavens were violently torn apart like thin paper, unable to contain the clash.
"A Conqueror's Haki clash?!"
Aokiji's pupils contracted. For a brief moment, he was stunned—but instinct kicked in. With a desperate push of both arms, his survival instinct overrode the pain.
He was right.
The intense spiritual clash momentarily distracted Ragnar. Even the strongest Haki users couldn't completely ignore the psychological burden of such willpower colliding in close proximity.
And that split-second lapse... was all the time Aokiji needed.
Though the youngest of the three Admirals, Aokiji had seen countless battles. His combat experience and instincts were as sharp as ever.
PCHHK—!
With blood trailing, he tore himself free from Ragnar's dragon-like grasp, even as claws raked through his side.
With one swift motion, he formed a wall of ice, sealing the gaping wound in his chest to prevent further blood loss—a desperate attempt to preserve his life like a candle flickering in the wind.
Without hesitation, he turned and dived backward—into the ocean's embrace.
"...He's gone?"
Ragnar's eyes narrowed, scanning the churning waves. But Aokiji had already vanished.
His expression turned frigid, sharpened like a blade.
Normally, a Devil Fruit user plunging into the sea meant certain death. The ocean was their natural enemy.
But Aokiji was not a typical Devil Fruit user.
Ragnar knew that well.
He's one of the rare exceptions...
Those who either weren't fully bound by the sea's curse—or had adapted to exploit it.
And Aokiji, wielder of the Hie Hie no Mi (Ice-Ice Fruit), was undoubtedly the latter.
Even submerged, he could instantly freeze the sea, carving an escape path few could predict.
"Red-Haired...!"
Ragnar turned his gaze toward the sky, sensing another force looming on the horizon.
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