After he finished allocating his stats, Marco immediately felt his mental power surge back, clear and sharp.
He flipped back to the basic attribute page and scanned his status panel:
Name: Marco
Age: 43
Attribute Points: 23,000
Devil Fruit: Zoan-Type – Phoenix Form (Awakened)
Devil Fruit Awakening Ability: Flames of Destruction
Haki: Armament Haki (top-tier), Observation Haki (top-tier), Conqueror's Haki (legendary)
Body Techniques: Soru (top-tier), Rankyaku (advanced), Moonwalk (advanced), Tekkai (top-tier), Shigan (advanced), Kami-e (advanced).
Strength: 42,054
Speed: 24,900
Defense: 23,800
Recovery: 60,000
Stamina: 25,100
Mental Power: 31,300
System Combat Power Evaluation: King Level
"So, it's still only king-level strength?"
Marco stared at the unchanged evaluation, feeling a wave of helplessness.
Once you reached King Level, progress became brutally slow.
Even with his base attributes already so high, his combat power refused to budge.
Looks like I still have to level up my Haki...
Closing the attribute panel, Marco lifted his gaze, his expression hardening as he focused on Saint Nusjuro in front of him.
At that moment, a shrill scream suddenly tore through the battlefield from afar.
"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!!!"
The voice was loud—and far too familiar. There was no mistaking it: it was Big Mom.
"Ma-Mama..." Katakuri, already half-kneeling on the ground, stared at Big Mom in shock.
Her right hand had been bitten clean off by the sandworm, Saint Peter, who was in his beast form, was casually chewing on her severed arm.
"This monster..." King muttered in mid-air, his expression turning grim.
The Gorosei's physical defense was absurdly tough; breaking through it was nearly impossible.
Even if they managed to wound them, the damage was erased in an instant. Their recovery was downright unnatural.
"Old hag, what the hell are you doing?!" Kaido bellowed, still trading blows with Saint Warcury.
As the fight dragged on, even Kaido found the man's monstrous regeneration troublesome.
He had already grasped a way to break through so-called immortality, yet Warcury's defense and healing were still overwhelming.
Even Kaido's full-force strikes could only cause limited damage—nowhere near enough to finish him in one blow. The result was a grueling stalemate.
Meanwhile, the Marines—whose morale had been hanging by a thread—erupted the moment they saw Big Mom injured again.
"Great, Saint Peter won!"
"Once Saint Peter finishes off Big Mom, victory is ours!"
Not far away, Ace and Yamato, locked in battle with Ryokugyu, were both panting heavily.
Ryokugyu no longer dared to look down on the two brats in front of him.
Whether it was his imagination or not, these pests were like cockroaches that refused to die—growing stronger every time they were knocked down. Especially Fire Fist Ace.
Ace wasn't just strong; his abilities also happened to be a terrible matchup for Ryokugyu.
Yamato shot a quick glance in Big Mom's direction and grumbled, "What is that old hag doing?! It feels like every problem always starts with her."
Gasping for breath, Ace answered, voice steady and serious, "We can't control what's happening over there."
"What we need to do now is take Ryokugyu down as fast as possible."
"How arrogant, you brats!" Ryokugyu, his body scorched and smoking, glared at them, face twisted in fury.
As a proud Admiral, being forced into such a miserable state by two kids made his fists clench. He roared, "Just you wait! That old hag is absolutely no match for Saint Peter!
Once Saint Peter finishes her off, it'll be Kaido and Marco next.
None of you are leaving this place alive!"
Ace's body blazed brighter, flames roaring off him as he shouted back, "Before that happens, we'll beat you and then go support Marco and the others!"
Saint Nusjuro turned his head slightly, a cold smile tugging at his lips. "It seems Saint Peter's battle will be decided very soon."
Marco's expression darkened.
That old hag was really unreliable.
How could she already be on the verge of defeat after just a few minutes?!
He looked back at Saint Nusjuro.
He no longer dared to drag this fight out.
His Mythical Zoan, the Phoenix Fruit, was at its best in a war of attrition—but his opponent clearly had some kind of Zoan ability as well, and a freakish regenerative power bordering on immortality.
Even though Marco's Haoshoku could now break through that so-called immortality, he still didn't want a prolonged clash, not on this battlefield—especially when Big Mom had already become the Gorosei's biggest target.
But now, it was a race against time.
Staring at Saint Nusjuro, Marco made up his mind to go blow for blow. Even if the man's swordsmanship was terrifying, he had to bring him down as quickly as possible.
If Big Mom fell here, it would crush their morale.
At that moment, Big Mom clutched the stump of her right arm, staring at Saint Peter, who was still chewing on her severed limb.
The anger in her eyes had faded, replaced by raw fear.
Now she was certain: the Gorosei in this state were completely different from the ones she'd faced on Whole Cake Island.
After using that God's blood, their power had surged far beyond the level of a Yonko. She was utterly outmatched.
Whether it was Saint Nusjuro or Saint Peter, the gap between their strength and hers was overwhelming.
Regret crept in again.
She shouldn't have come to Egghead Island.
Coming here, she couldn't do a thing to these monsters.
Her famed "Steel Balloon" defense meant nothing in front of them.
Saint Peter finished swallowing her arm and sneered, "Indeed. Among the Four Emperors, you are the weakest."
"What did you say?!" Big Mom roared, fury flaring back to life.
She'd been a pirate since childhood, a "natural disaster" wherever she appeared, called a monster by the world itself.
To be called weak by Saint Peter—she couldn't accept that.
Saint Peter went on, "Even though you're all ants, Kaido of the Beasts can still hold off Saint Warcury, and Phoenix Marco can even kill a god."
"Compared to them, you're far too weak.
"To us, you're just an insect. In these eight hundred years, we've seen countless ants like you.
"If you'd just stayed in your little sewer as a local emperor, we wouldn't have bothered to look your way.
"But you chose to follow Kaido of the Beasts and Phoenix Marco to challenge the World Government—to challenge God.
"From beginning to end, you've been nothing but a tool.
"Dying in confusion like this is the best end you could hope for."
With that, Saint Peter lunged at Big Mom again.
Panic finally broke through her usual ferocity.
She could force her body to heal by burning her lifespan, but this time her entire arm was gone.
To regenerate a severed arm… it would cost at least ten years.
She was 67 now.
Back when she'd fought Saint Nusjuro, she had sacrificed three years of her lifespan to repair the sword wounds on her body, pushing herself into the state of a seventy-year-old.
Like this, she could barely keep her combat strength at its peak. But if she burned another ten years, her power would definitely plummet.
The realization sent a chill down her spine. Without hesitating any longer, Big Mom turned and bolted.
Saint Peter watched her flee.
As a Gorosei, he had seen far too many people make the same choice. His gaze turned icy as he scoffed, "Hmph. As expected of an insect.
"Trying to run?"
Even as one of the highest-ranking Gorosei, he understood very clearly that, right now, killing a Yonko was crucial for morale. Without delay, he sprang forward and gave chase.
On the other side of the battlefield, Marco's Haoshoku Haki locked tightly onto Saint Nusjuro. Nusjuro's face had darkened, his own Haoshoku surging out to clash head-on with Marco's.
Marco's entire body was wrapped in black flames that slowly converged into his right fist. His voice was cold as he said, "Next up—if you've got the ability, try blocking this. And don't even think about running. Even if you try, you won't get away."
"Hmph… so you saw Big Mom about to be defeated by Saint Peter, and now you've decided to fight me to the death?" Nusjuro's eyes were like ice. He could feel Marco's aura climbing to a terrifying level, and a flicker of shock crossed his heart.
Why had Marco's Haoshoku recovered so quickly? Just moments ago, after defeating Saint Mars, it had been nearly spent.
It had only been a few minutes. Even with the Phoenix Fruit's monstrous recovery, that should only apply to physical injuries. Haoshoku was mental energy—it should take time and rest to slowly restore itself.
Marco said nothing more. He stomped down hard and shot straight toward Saint Nusjuro like a cannonball.
Saint Nusjuro watched Marco charge in without a hint of fear. His own heart had wavered at first, but the moment he felt the overwhelming Haoshoku Haki pouring out of Marco, he understood: before this level of Conqueror's Haki, there was nowhere to hide. If he tried to evade now, a certain victory could flip into defeat.
"Ant, I admit you have the right to fight a god. Let me show you, brat, our true power."
With that, Saint Nusjuro stopped in place and calmly sheathed the Shodai Kitetsu in his hand.
As a swordsman, he was about to unleash his strongest technique—his iai. It was a strike he had honed alone for hundreds of years, with no rivals and no real battles to test it on.
His presence seemed to vanish. Saint Nusjuro's aura drew inward, like a treasured blade being sealed in its scabbard. His gaze sharpened as he tracked Marco's approach, watching the distance between them shrink, inch by inch.
Marco felt a chill run through him. With his aura contained, Saint Nusjuro was even more terrifying than when he'd been flaring his power openly. Even Marco could sense a clear, mortal danger.
But it was far too late to pull back. Once, twice, three times—if he hesitated now, his momentum would be spent. He had to finish this quickly. If the fight dragged on, the situation would turn against him.
Black flames surged up around Marco's right fist, Haoshoku and Armament Haki twisting together and condensing over his knuckles. He roared, "Next, I'm concentrating all my Haki into this punch! Try and block it!"
"One-Sword Style… Iai—Demon Slayer…"
This time, neither of them bothered with defense. They poured everything into pure offense.
In the next instant, Marco's fist crashed into Nusjuro's torso, smashing through and snapping his body cleanly at the waist—severing the human half from the skeletal horse.
They passed by each other in a blur. Marco was sent flying upward, wings beating as he stabilized himself in midair. Looking down at the fallen Saint Nusjuro, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
But a heartbeat later, a thin red line slowly traced itself across Marco's chest.
With a wet crack, the wound split open. A massive slash had been carved from his left shoulder to his right abdomen—and instead of blood, a chilling frost spread outward from the gash.
The searing pain tore through him. Marco's body lost strength, and he plummeted, slamming into the ground.
Both Marines and pirates stared, stunned yet again. They had been clashing nonstop, but all of them understood: the true outcome of this war hinged on the battles between the Four Emperors and the Gorosei. No matter how fiercely they fought below, it was the results of those clashes that would decide everything. That was why every eye was fixed on the fight between the three Emperors and the Gorosei.
"Captain Marco…!"
"Saint Nusjuro-sama…!"
Both the Phoenix Pirates and the Marines surged toward their respective leaders. But before anyone could reach him, Marco slammed one hand against the ground, forcing himself upright. He glared at his crew and shouted, "Don't come over!"
The moment Marco's words left his mouth, the Phoenix Pirates erupted. Marco was the first to stand—meaning he'd won.
He sucked in ragged breaths, chest burning with pain. Black flames licked across his body, first thawing the ice that bound him, then slowly knitting his wounds back together.
"H-how is this possible…" Saint Nusjuro rasped. His expression tightened, and he spat a mouthful of blood.
That one blow had already gravely injured him. He hadn't felt pain in hundreds of years; now it crashed over him all at once, so intense it was almost suffocating.
His body was cleaved in half at the waist. Even worse, residual Haoshoku crackled over him, blocking his regeneration.
Marco drew in a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Nusjuro, the Gorosei now split cleanly into two, having reverted from his centaur form. Bright red blood poured endlessly from the severed torso.
"Hoo… hoo… hoo… I won't let you recover. Die!" Marco growled. He forced his battered body to move. This was a race against time. He knew that if Saint Nusjuro were given even a little breathing room, his body would regenerate. He had to finish him now.
Wreathed in flame, Marco took flight and hurled himself toward Nusjuro.
Yet Nusjuro's eyes remained strangely calm. In a low voice, he murmured, "It seems I have lost. My fellow stars… the rest is up to you."
The moment the words left his lips, his body dissolved into smoke. Before Marco could close the distance, Nusjuro had already deactivated the teleportation magic circle, and his entire being vanished—returning to the Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
"He's… vanished." Marines and pirates alike stared, dumbfounded, at the empty space where Saint Nusjuro had just been.
Marco, however, understood immediately. After clashing with the Gorosei so many times, he'd more or less figured out how their powers worked. All of them had come to Egghead via Magic Circles. By deactivating the circle, they could instantly return.
The only reason Saint Mars failed to escape last time was because Marco had been right on top of him, flooding him with Haoshoku at point-blank range. That constant pressure had suppressed Saint Mars's ability, leaving him no chance to teleport away.
This time, there was still a gap between him and Saint Nusjuro. That distance kept Marco from smothering Nusjuro's power with Haoshoku in time—allowing the Gorosei to slip through his fingers.
Realizing this, Marco couldn't hold back a snarl. "Damn it!"
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