"Damn it! I can't land a single hit on his real body!"
Katakuri's teeth ground in frustration. Prometheus—or whatever the hell he'd become—had powers eerily similar to the Flame-Flame Fruit, but this wasn't Logia. Even Haki strikes slipped through uselessly. Worse, the bastard kept pulling out abilities none of them had ever seen before. It was terrifying.
There's no winning this… Katakuri admitted to himself grimly.
Meanwhile, Rorin D. Sol was thinking the exact opposite. According to what he remembered from the original story, the only thing that could hurt Prometheus was Brook's chilling Soul Solid technique.
Guess I'll have to deal with Brook early. Send the skeleton back to his crew in the afterlife. Problem solved.
Far from the battlefield, ten miles away, telescopes glinted under the New World sun. A crowd of onlookers—pirates, spies, and opportunists—watched the chaos unfold.
Front and center was the vulture himself: Big News Morgans. His beakish mouth stretched into a grin so wide it nearly split his face. "Big news! The juiciest kind! Who would've thought the very first Tea Party after Big Mom became a Yonko would descend into this? She's gonna blow her lid! This is perfect!"
Beside him, Stussy of the Pleasure District arched an eyebrow. Morgans turned to her with greedy eyes. "Speaking of which, where's Big Mom? With her Observation Haki, she should've noticed this fight ages ago."
As if his words had summoned her, the ground rumbled like an oncoming earthquake. Tremors rolled closer, each one heavier than the last.
"She's here… Big Mom!"
"Finally! It's over. Nobody survives her wrath."
"Don't be so sure. Didn't you see? Katakuri hasn't scratched Prometheus once!"
"Still… if she can create a monster like that, no wonder she's a Yonko."
The peanut gallery buzzed with nervous awe, while Morgans could hardly contain himself. The bigger the disaster, the bigger tomorrow's headline.
On the battlefield, fire raged unchecked, devouring everything it touched. But even a hellscape couldn't slow her. Big Mom stomped forward, the flames licking her skin harmlessly.
Her twisted face was a lion's snarl, teeth grinding audibly. Her voice came through clenched jaws, syllables cracking like thunder:
"Pro… me… theus…! You dare ruin my Tea Party? UNFORGIVABLE! Hand over your soul!"
Her thick fingers clawed the air, trying to rip Rorin's spirit straight out of his body.
One second. Two. Three…
Five seconds passed. Nothing. Rorin's soul remained firmly his own. Relief crashed over him.
Big Mom's eyes bulged. "Impossible! That soul was mine to begin with! How can I not take it back?!"
"Ding! Charlotte Linlin is SHOCKED. Evaluation: S. Reward: Swordsmanship—Kenjutsu Mastery!"
"Ding! Critical Shock Triggered! Evaluation doubled to SSS. Reward: Great Swordmastery! Sword Intent! Supreme Sword Talent!"
The cascade of system prompts made Rorin's grin stretch ear to ear. This system's busted! I've leveled up more in minutes than most pirates do in a lifetime!
Big Mom's control slipped. Her shoulders hunched, fists clenching as black Armament Haki cloaked them in oily armor. The pressure pouring off her spiked like a tidal wave. Even the distant Tea Party guests froze under the suffocating killing intent.
"I'll kill you myself!"
She stomped forward, swung, and unleashed a Haki-laced punch. The air screamed as the shockwave ripped through the battlefield, flinging even Katakuri back a step.
Rorin smirked. "Haki won't work on me—"
The words died in his throat. Instinct shrieked danger, and he dove aside just in time.
"Of course it won't work. That's why I laced it with my Soul-Soul Fruit's power!" Big Mom's laugh was manic, her fists a storm of death, every strike aimed to erase him.
Rorin shrank his form, weaving between the strikes. No way I'm sticking around to play piñata. With her here, shocking people won't rack me any new rewards. Time to scram.
Then an idea sparked. A dangerous, stupid, perfect idea.
Cake Island lay in ruins. Firestorms, smoke, shattered walls—chaos incarnate.
Rorin darted through the winds of destruction, barely dodging Big Mom's fists. Each gust hit like a cannon blast.
"So this is a Yonko's power… Her punches alone could flatten an island."
He felt it in his bones—the gap between them. But the system was his cheat code. One day soon, he'd surpass even Big Mom. He had no doubt.
The Empress of the Sea slowed, lowering her fists, glaring at him with murder in her eyes.
Rorin cocked a brow and smirked like a punk begging for a beating. "What's wrong, Mama? Out of gas already? Some Yonko you are. Maybe I should take your spot instead!"
Her forehead veins bulged like ropes, her fury boiling over.
"Prometheus!" she howled. "Napoleon! Ikoku Sovereignty!"
The hat on her head—Napoleon—snapped open into a massive blade. With a roar, Big Mom raised it high and swung, her slash splitting the air.
Before the blade even landed, the hurricane it birthed hurled stone and dirt in a torrent toward Rorin. His grin vanished, replaced by sharp focus.
"Fine then… let's do this! Golden Emperor's Flame! Celestial Fire! Armament Haki!"
His golden flames erupted skyward, a sun born from his body. The storm winds only fed the blaze, fusing their powers into a cataclysm.
Ten miles away, even the spectators felt it. Big Mom's aura bent the heavens, clouds roiling, lightning flashing in sheets.
Rorin's heat turned the sky behind him crimson, splitting the heavens in two—one half dark with thunderclouds, the other blazing with golden fire.
Stussy narrowed her eyes at the sight, her voice low. "This scene… you don't even need a telescope to see it." She turned to Morgans. "So… who wins?"
The news mogul squinted, studying the clashing auras. His instincts as a predator of headlines were sharper than his claws. "It'll be Charlotte Linlin in the end."
The crowd nodded in agreement.
"She's a Yonko. If she loses here, the other Emperors will lose face too."
"And if that happens, every upstart fool on the seas will challenge them."
The battlefield, the seas, the world—all teetered on the edge of something massive.