"That kid called Enel… he's still so young," Tsuru said solemnly, her voice echoing through the command deck. "Even if his talent defies all logic, at best he's only at the level of a Vice Admiral. Yet he can already unleash the Rumble-Rumble Fruit's power to this extent. If his strength grows any further… his threat will rival that of Bins from the Grey Nation."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and cold.
Borsalino and Garp both nodded grimly in agreement.
"Then before he grows any stronger," Sakazuki said coldly, his voice sharp as magma, "we should erase him—completely."
"Easier said than done," Tsuru replied calmly. "As long as he's under the protection of the Grey Nation, we can't touch him. That country has become a colossal power. After this battle, their prestige will skyrocket. Even if the World Government decides to strike, they'll need to prepare for total war."
She paused, her eyes narrowing. "And don't forget—Rosinante himself is of Celestial Dragon blood. Some of those arrogant nobles actually approve of his success. As long as a Celestial Dragon holds power, they believe the world remains under their rule. Of course, the opinions among them are divided—but for now, the World Government has no intention of waging a full-scale war against the Grey Nation."
Sakazuki's face darkened, but he said nothing more.
Borsalino, lounging lazily as ever, flicked his hand dismissively. "Well, that's for the best, isn't it? If we did fight them now, the Navy would suffer enormous losses. And honestly…" He pointed at the apocalyptic scene before them. "If we really did go to war, this"—he smirked faintly—"this scene right here would be playing out at Marineford."
The lawless zone was a vision of hell. Lightning fell like rain, splitting the earth and turning everything beneath it into ash. Yet amidst the storm, several figures still pushed forward—fighting through the death and chaos.
They were the ones who stood above the rest—the strongest among the mercenaries.
"Run! Keep moving!" The oni warrior shouted to his swordsmen. "Once we reach Zone 1, the lightning won't strike us anymore! Their king must be there—that's why the thunder avoids it!"
At first, The oni warrior and his swordmasters managed to evade the bolts using their Observation Haki. But as Ten Thousand Thunders reached full power, the sky itself became their enemy.
Bolts struck faster, harder, without pause. Even those who could sense the attacks couldn't move fast enough to dodge them. The air was thick with the stench of ozone and burnt flesh.
"Deflect them!" The oni warrior roared. "Cut them apart if you must!"
They raised their blades, slashing wildly at the sky. Thunder met steel with a deafening crack. Even for a master swordsman, the impact was overwhelming—but The oni warrior wasn't alone.
Four other elite swordsmen fought beside him, their blades flashing in unison. Together, they split bolt after bolt, carving a narrow path through the storm toward safety.
"Fufufu! What a terrifying sight!" the Butcher Demon cackled, darting through the storm with impossible speed. His movements blurred like a ghost's shadow, weaving between the lightning strikes. He was fast—fast enough to rival the thunder itself. But his men weren't so lucky. One by one, they fell behind, engulfed by lightning and screams.
"Hold firm!" bellowed the Ghost Warrior, his tone cold and resolute. "This lightning—it's the perfect trial! Treat it as training! This is the moment to prove the spirit of the Ghost Warrior!"
The warriors around him had long since shed their cloaks, revealing bodies forged like steel.
"Ghost—Strike!"
As the next bolt fell, one warrior stepped forward and took it head-on. His body convulsed, but he stood his ground—until another bolt followed, then another, until he finally collapsed, smoking and still.
The Ghost Warrior gritted his teeth and charged into the storm himself, his iron body absorbing the brunt of the blasts. Step by step, dragging his injured comrades with him, he forced his way toward Zone 1—an unbreakable force of will.
"Fufufufu! So much lightning! Truly fitting for the so-called strongest newcomers!" Moriah laughed, his enormous shadow twisting behind him. "I really want to see how strong this Dragon King is!"
Thanks to his Shadow-Shadow Fruit, even lightning had trouble touching him. He danced effortlessly through the chaos, perhaps the only one who seemed completely at ease amid the destruction.
Then there was Grim Reaper.
Expressionless, he lifted his massive scythe to the sky, each swing sending waves of black energy upward. Death auras collided with lightning, and impossibly—the thunder faded away wherever it touched the darkness.
But while others were struck randomly, Grim Reaper's mercenary corps seemed to be targeted. The lightning above them never ceased—strike after strike, merciless and precise.
Just as Grim Reaper cleaved apart a volley of bolts, four colossal pillars of lightning crashed down around them, linking together in a cage of pure electricity.
The air itself screamed as the currents converged, sealing off every escape.
"Oh-ho! Looks like the Grey Nation's noticed how dangerous Grim Reaper's crew is," Borsalino said lightly. "They're specifically targeting them now."
"As expected," Tsuru replied. "Anyone who's seen that man fight would do the same. No one underestimates Grim Reaper."
Garp frowned, his instincts prickling. "Something about that mercenary corps feels… off. It's not just him—they all feel wrong. No warmth, no life in them. Just… death."
He wasn't wrong.
"Maybe it's the death aura they wield," Tsuru said quietly.
"Maybe," Garp muttered, though his gut told him there was more to it.
By now, the four massive bolts of lightning had begun to close in, the pressure unbearable. Grim Reaper's mercenaries were surrounded—no escape, no time to move.
In a heartbeat, the lightning struck.
"BOOOOM!"
The explosion shook the entire island chain, a blinding flash devouring everything within its reach.
Grim Reaper Mercenary Corps vanished in the storm, swallowed whole by thunder and flame.