The hunting game had come to a temporary pause. Kyle's attention shifted toward the distance, where the storm of energy—far from weakening—intensified, crackling with a terrifying momentum that suggested something even more catastrophic was about to unfold.
He climbed to the highest peak of the shattered mountain range, merging seamlessly with the rock using Light Illusion Mirage. From this vantage point, he became a silent, diligent, and responsible spectator—one who bore witness to the prelude of the finale.
The battlefield was unrecognizable. Rocks, Roger, and Garp were all battered, their bodies covered in blood that soaked their tattered clothing and stained the ground beneath them.
Roger's Captain's coat hung in shreds, and the muscles in his arm holding young Ace bulged with tense veins, each breath shaking the air around him. Garp's iron fist was a bloody, mangled mess; fingers partially visible beneath torn skin, every inhalation releasing a scorching white mist.
Rocks fared the worst. His body was a patchwork of deep wounds that seemed to cut straight to the bone. His wild hair clung to strands of blood, yet his eyes burned like twin stars on the verge of supernova. Even in the throes of exhaustion, all three had surpassed the boundaries of human limitation.
"God Avoidance!"
Roger's roar was hoarse, tinged with fatigue, but the black-red slash of his sword became more concentrated, as though all his will had been channeled into a single, world-shattering strike.
"Fist Bone: Galaxy Impact!"
Garp's foot shattered the rock beneath him, launching him like a reverse-flying meteor. His scarred fist radiated Armament Haki so dense it devoured light itself. Each punch shook space to its core, causing reality to tremble.
Rocks, facing the combined assault, smiled. His laugh was wild and unrestrained, a mixture of defiance, anger, and a strange, almost relieved joy.
"Hahahahaha… Excellent! Roger! Garp!"
He did not block. He did not dodge. Instead, he spread his arms wide, as if to embrace the oncoming, world-ending attack.
"Let all of this turn into nothingness!"
A surge of unprecedented, utterly dark Haoshoku Haki erupted from his body. The world itself seemed to stop.
Sound vanished. Light vanished. The wind ceased, and clouds hung motionless.
Kyle's pupils constricted as he felt—not saw—the power around him. His own formidable Boba Fruit abilities were rendered useless. The very air was drained of laws, waves, and energy, leaving only a profound, oppressive void.
Centered on Rocks, a domain of absolute nothingness expanded outward. The sky became a pure black curtain, devoid of stars or lightning, a void that swallowed even light. The earth disintegrated silently, soil and trees reduced to primal particles, drawn inexorably into the darkness.
Roger's slash and Garp's meteoric fist struck the dark domain like pebbles tossed into a black hole—mere ripples in a sea of annihilation.
The entire God Valley island—once the "Holy Land of the Gods"—cried out under the strain. Cracks spider-webbed across mountains, bottomless chasms tore open the terrain, and seawater poured in, creating deafening roars.
This was no ordinary battle. It was a cataclysm.
Rocks, sacrificing his own life and Haki, sought to bury the island—and all who opposed him—under the void he had summoned.
Kyle's perch on the thousand-meter peak trembled. Rocks beneath him could have crushed mountains, but the peak crumbled like sand. There was no time to marvel; he transformed into a streak of light, desperately fleeing toward the coastline. A single misstep would bury him forever alongside the legends of the sea.
In the center of the darkness, Rocks' figure blurred, merging with the void itself. The destructive force exposed his core, however—no matter how extreme, ultimate power carried inherent fragility.
"Now!"
Roger and Garp's voices rang out simultaneously, cutting through the cataclysm. Even amid the collapse of heaven and earth, their commands synchronized with deadly precision.
Roger's figure flashed through the darkness, Ace in hand tracing a simple, unadorned arc. Every ounce of Haki was focused into the blade, targeting the fragile core of the void.
Garp, in parallel, channeled all his strength into a single punch. His feet pressed into the fracturing earth, delivering a force meant to pierce the darkness without hesitation.
One slash. One punch.
The moment blade met fist, the expanding Conqueror's Domain stuttered.
Crack.
A sound like reality itself fracturing reverberated. The void became fissured, like a shattered mirror, and light poured forth from every crevice. Sound returned to the world.
Rocks froze. His towering figure stiffened as he lowered his head, staring at the void in his chest—pierced by a simple sword and an unstoppable fist. Madness drained from his eyes, replaced with a quiet, almost sorrowful calm.
He had lost.
"The D. family… is truly… interesting…"
His voice, soft and faint, barely carried as his body began dissipating into flecks of black light, carried away by the wind.
The overlord of an era had fallen.
Yet the consequences of his final strike were irreversible.
God Valley continued to disintegrate. Landmasses collapsed into the seabed, towering waves rose hundreds of meters, and seawater churned violently, forming a colossal vortex capable of swallowing everything in its path.
Kyle, already at the shore, wasted no time. He pushed a small boat into the water—prepared in advance—and loaded it with heavy sacks scavenged from the battlefield.
Making money? No shame in that!
He jumped onto the boat and looked back. The island had vanished, replaced by a bottomless vortex consuming clouds, waves, and all life. Countless pirate ships, along with their crews, were dragged screaming into oblivion.
Kyle skillfully guided his tiny craft, dodging deadly undercurrents like a leaf riding a tempestuous river, heading for the Oro Jackson, which waited in the distance.
Soaked and exhausted, he leaped onto the deck. The crew's eyes widened at his appearance. Rayleigh, Jabba, and the others gazed silently at the scarred sea, unable to tear their eyes away from the aftermath.
Kyle tossed the heavy sacks onto the deck. The sound of metal and jewels clinking together produced an oddly satisfying melody.
"Yo, I'm back," he announced, water dripping from his hair. "Caught the grand finale… and picked up a few souvenirs along the way."
The crew had witnessed the fall of one legend and the rise of another, yet Kyle offered no further explanation.
He walked to the railing, leaned against it, and drew a small cup from his pocket, filling it with orange juice.
The vortex behind them churned with lingering energy, echoing the unmatched dominion of Rocks, Roger, and Garp.
An era had ended, and a new one was quietly, irrevocably beginning.
Kyle sipped, smiling faintly. Chaos, carnage, and opportunity—his world, after all, had only just begun.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)