The dust of the avalanche settled over the fractured valley in heavy, suffocating sheets.
A bitter wind howled through the newly carved canyon, carrying the sharp tang of pulverized granite and shattered ice. High above, the mountain spine lay torn open, exposing deep, black fissures where ancient rock had given way beneath the kinetic force of the battle.
Giovanni stood in the frost, his boots sinking an inch into the white drift. His right coat sleeve was dark and stiff with blood where Mihawk's cut had reopened under the strain of carrying the two giants across the abyss. Beside him, Loki remained doubled over, his broad chest heaving in ragged, painful fits as his bare hands dripped steady crimson onto the roots of the Adam Tree he had braced. Down the incline, the eleven elite giant warriors lay scattered among the shattered stone, battered, winded, and unable to rise.
A prickle touched the edge of Giovanni's perception.
It was not the razor-sharp pressure of Mihawk, nor the wild heat of the Prince of Elbaf. It was a cold, crawling intent moving beneath the stone. A greasy, parasitic presence slithering through the dark.
From the dark fissures opened by the collapse, fluid black shapes slithered into the light.
Dozens of shadow tendrils crept across the snow, moving like living oil against the pure white frost. They bypassed the upright men entirely, weaving silently toward the helpless giant warriors lying across the valley floor. The tendrils reached for bare ankles and wrists, preparing to bind the fallen warriors and drag them into the sunless depths below.
Ace slid two inches from its sheath with a whisper of iron. A single line of compressed air skittered an inch above the frost, travelling across the snowbank in a soundless, low-flying arc.
The tendrils were severed before a single shade touched giant flesh. The cut shadow-limbs thrashed wildly against the ice, whipping into dark foam before dissolving into smoke against the cold air.
"Kishishishi... still sharp, aren't we, little pirate?"
The smoke gathered above a split granite boulder, rising six feet into the shape of an elongated, horned silhouette. The shadow broadened, its jaw tearing wide into a jagged, needle-toothed grin as yellow eyes opened within the shade.
It was Doppelman.
"Gecko Moria," Giovanni said, his voice flat and unhurried. He did not raise his blade further.
Loki spat copper-tasted blood onto the snow, his jaw clamped in fury as he glared at the shade. "What is this thing?"
The shadow puppet chuckled, a wet sound echoing off the rock walls. "I came for a wounded dog, Prince. I tracked the hawk across the sea, hoping to scavenge whatever was left after two monsters tore each other apart. But look at you... covered in blood, dragging giants through the mud."
The shadow's yellow eyes turned slowly, locking onto Giovanni's face.
"You look so much like him when you're bleeding, boy," Moria's voice hissed from the puppet's throat. "Norwell D. Renji... the great Davy survivor. Always standing tall."
Giovanni's left hand rested lightly on Ace's pommel. "You're late for the feast, Moria."
"Late?" The shadow proxy leaned forward, its dark arms spreading wide in mock pity. "You think your father was taken down purely by Marines? You think a strike team found his ship in the South Blue by accident?"
The puppet's voice pitched higher, laced with spat venom.
"I pointed them the right way, boy! After our little clash years ago... the rest was easy! The father was so easy to bury... and now look at you, bleeding out while your old man rots in a cell!"
Giovanni took a slow, quiet breath.
The visible black lightning around Ace vanished entirely. The ambient air in the valley dropped in temperature as Giovanni drew his Haki inward, compressing his spirit to an absolute, microscopic point. The surrounding atmospheric pressure surged outward, flattening the swirling snow within fifty yards in a single, heavy instant.
The force struck the shadow proxy directly.
The dark shape buckled. Its ink-black limbs trembled and thinned against the granite, the proxy's eyes widening as the suffocating weight traveled straight up the active shadow-link, choking the breath out of the real Gecko Moria miles away on his ship.
Through the proxy's eyes, Moria saw the cold, clear focus in Giovanni's gaze. There was no rage to exploit, no reckless fury. Only an apex predator who stood ready to kill.
Self-preservation won.
"Kishishishi... another time, Davy brat!" the puppet shrieked.
BRICK BAT!
The proxy exploded into dozens of sharp, bat-like shades, diving toward Giovanni's face to blind him.
Giovanni didn't blink. He turned his torso toward the southern coast, drew Ace in a single, fluid stroke, and executed a silent, horizontal slash.
A pale-blue arc of compressed vacuum tore through the sky, cutting above the tree line and surging miles across the island toward the fog.
Miles away, aboard the Gecko Pirates' flagship anchored in the dense coastal mist, Moria materialized on his quarterdeck, clutching his throat as he swapped places with his shadow.
"Raise the anchor!" Moria screamed, shoving his crewmen aside as he scrambled toward the wheel. "Get us out of here! Move!"
Before the heavy anchor chains could finish hauling, the sky directly above the ship split.
A line of blue light cut clean through the fog and passed over the deck, severing the massive mainmast in half. The multi-ton timber crashed onto the upper deck with a deafening roar, crushing the rigging and sending sailors scrambling into the freezing sea.
"Row! ROW!" Moria shrieked, backing away from the falling wood as the ship caught the outgoing current, slipping desperately into the southern fog.
Moria gripped the ship's railing, his yellow eyes wide with lingering dread as he stared back at the receding fog of Elbaf. He glare at his cowering crew, his voice dropping to a harsh, trembling whisper.
"If any of you ever speak that boy's name again... I will tear your shadows out and throw you into the sun. We were never here."
Back in the valley, the distant crash of falling timber died into the mountain wind.
Giovanni sheathed Ace with a soft, iron click. He watched the southern fog, his breathing steady as the compressed pressure around him slowly dispersed into the cold air.
Loki stepped forward, clutching his chest as he looked at the human. "He tried to rattle you. A shadow-thief has no honor."
Giovanni didn't turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, plain and unreadable.
"He didn't lie about all of it," Giovanni said quietly. "He knew my father."
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