The moment Big Mom saw her beloved son, her guard dropped.

Just for a second—

But that second was enough.

Behind her, Tachibana Kyūjō had already transformed into a cold, unfeeling executioner. Without hesitation, he whispered the final part of his technique’s chant and raised his sword in a single, fluid motion.

This slash wasn’t like the one before.

It was infused with both jet-black Busoshoku Haki and nearly invisible Kenbunshoku Haki—two forces entwining perfectly into one devastating strike.

In an instant, the slash ripped through hundreds of meters of air and—

It struck Big Mom directly in the neck.

A razor-sharp slicing sound tore through the battlefield.

The slash cleaved clean through her throat—emerging from the front with precision so brutal, it seemed to freeze time.

Big Mom’s crimson eyes widened in disbelief.

As the wielder of the Soru Soru no Mi, she understood immediately.

She was dead.

Body and soul—both had been severed.

With the last flickers of consciousness, Big Mom forced a faint smile toward her son standing before her.

But the light in her eyes dimmed moments later.

And then—her massive head slipped free from her shoulders.

Blood burst into the air like a grotesque crimson fountain, painting the sky with the stench of death.

Amidst that chilling sight, Tachibana Kyūjō stood calmly.

Like the final boss of a dark legend.

With quiet composure, he sheathed his black blade—Rairyūken—and murmured:

“Those who take lives… must one day pay with their own.”

Big Mom was no exception.

And neither was he.

— — —

“Tachibana Kyūjō…! I swear I’ll kill you!!”

Katakuri’s voice trembled with fury. Each word was filled with pure, concentrated rage.

High above, King—who had been carrying Katakuri—was suddenly overwhelmed with tension.

His grip on Katakuri loosened slightly without realizing it.

What the hell was that slash just now!?

And more importantly…

Why won’t this guy just shut up!?

Big Mom—the Demon Queen of the Sea—had just been beheaded like a joke.

King had no delusions left.

There was no universe where he could defeat someone like that.

What if Kyūjō mistook Katakuri for his ally?

That alone was enough to make King seriously consider one thing:

Dropping Katakuri on the spot.

After all, a misunderstanding like that could get them both killed.

To make matters worse—right beside him stood the Strongest Man in the World.

Edward Newgate, the infamous Whitebeard, radiated pressure so overwhelming that even King’s wings trembled.

Still… betraying a passenger before the fight even started?

That was a little much, even for King.

So after weighing his options, he made his choice—

He’d not throw Katakuri.

Yet.

— — —

Meanwhile, Whitebeard’s face darkened.

He had just witnessed Big Mom’s death—right before his eyes.

At the hands of the Marines.

A terrifying surge of Conqueror’s Haki exploded from his massive body, crackling like a storm of thunderclouds.

Sensing that the old Yonko had drawn his supreme-grade blade—Murakumogiri, one of the Saijō Ō Wazamono—Red-Haired Shanks immediately leapt through the air using Geppo and stood between Whitebeard and the scene ahead.

“Whitebeard, listen,” Shanks said firmly.

“You should head to Whole Cake Island and help Kaido first.”

“As for those two Marines… let Beckman and I handle them. You can’t fly—and fighting them midair will put you at a disadvantage. Marco won’t be able to shield you if both sides clash at once.”

Whitebeard clenched his jaw.

Shanks had a point.

Fighting in the air would limit him severely.

“…Marco. King. We’re heading to Whole Cake Island.”

His deep voice carried absolute authority.

Whitebeard gripped his blade tightly and closed his eyes for a moment before giving the command.

As if receiving divine salvation, King instantly flapped his wings and dashed off—without a word.

He had no intention of arguing.

For now, Katakuri’s life was safe.

And more importantly—his own neck too.

— — —

Back in the sky, Tachibana Kyūjō was watching a different clash.

A true duel.

It was a battle between Grandpa Garp and one of the most mysterious figures among the Yonko commanders—

Benn Beckman.

Now this—was a deathmatch worthy of legend.

After pummeling Kaido earlier, Garp had unleashed several thunderous shockwaves.

His breath was now labored, shoulders rising and falling.

He could still fight.

But his strength—though close to an Admiral’s—wasn’t limitless.

This match?

It was dead even.

Kyūjō narrowed his eyes.

Beckman had hidden his true power deeply.

Oda had never drawn a full fight for him in the manga.

Just whispers, implications, and statements that he was “dangerous.”

But now, Kyūjō could finally witness his real strength firsthand.

And his weapon?

A long rifle slung casually at his hip.

— — —

But this was no ordinary gun.

This was a Black Rifle of the Supreme Grade—a Saijō Ō Wazamono.

Yes.

You heard that right.

Benn Beckman had turned his rifle into a permanently blackened weapon—tempered through Busoshoku Haki.

Try to picture that.

A man aiming that rifle at you from a distance—

Would you dare to move?

Would you even breathe?

Certainly not Kizaru, not in the future.

And for someone who had refined his Haki enough to blacken a rifle, there could be no question—

His Haki mastery was monstrous.

Even crazier?

He used it for close combat too.

Imagine—getting smacked in the face by a Supreme-Class rifle.

It would probably hurt more than getting shot.

No, seriously.

Beckman could bash you into the dirt with it and then shoot you afterward.

Supreme-Class Black Rifle.

Unmatched in strength.

Unparalleled in durability.

A single blow from that thing might break more bones than a cannonball.

Kyūjō kept nodding in admiration as he observed the flow of the fight.

Beckman wasn’t just powerful—

He was stylish.

The way he swung that rifle was like a dancer wielding a blade.

Even Garp, the Hero of the Marines, was visibly annoyed—until he finally snapped and shouted mid-fight:

“HEY!! Are you two just gonna WATCH!? Come help this old man out already!!”

Kyūjō stretched lazily in the air and turned to Shanks with a smirk.

“…Shanks. Don’t you ever feel overshadowed by a Vice-Captain like that?”

Shanks just burst into laughter.

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head proudly.

He pointed toward Beckman.

“Kyūjō, you get it too, don’t you?”

“My vice-captain Beckman is just… TOO DAMN COOL!”

“Tell me—can you find a vice-captain that badass, Kyūjō!?”

For some reason, Kyūjō thought of someone.

His own vice-captain.

The one who had stood by him for years—

Filing reports, handling logistics, and keeping their chaotic crew alive.

He smiled.

“…Of course I can! My vice-captain’s the best!”

He drew Rairyūken once more, raising it in Shanks’ direction with a playful glint in his eye.

“Let’s go see whose vice-captain’s cooler.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep