“…So, the Golden Lion Shiki shouldn’t be able to use Haoshoku Haki Infusion right now, right?”

The thought slipped into Tachibana Kyūjō’s mind before he could stop it—alongside a flashback of the overwhelming pressure he had once felt from Garp’s Haoshoku Haki.

He immediately shook his head, forcing the memory away.

No. This wasn’t the time to compare the man in front of him to the Marine Hero.

Shiki wasn’t supposed to stand on the same level as Garp. More importantly—Kyūjō wasn’t the boy he used to be, the one who had buckled under such pressure.

He had grown. His techniques, his mastery over Haki, everything had reached a level far beyond what it once was.

Still… he had to adjust his approach.

If raw strength couldn’t match Shiki’s, there was no point in trying to clash head-on. Kyūjō still had plenty of advantages to work with.

His explosive speed was faster.

His endurance—at least on solid ground—was better. Sure, Soru and Geppō gave him mobility in the air, but they also drained stamina much faster.

And he was young. Even if it came to trading blows, his body could handle a drawn-out battle.

With that decision made, Kyūjō spun on his heel and dived toward the open sea, aiming to find an uninhabited island that would give him the upper hand.

Would Shiki give chase?

A quick glance over his shoulder—seeing that furious face pursuing him—answered that question immediately.

Of course he would.

— — —

Thirty minutes later.

Kyūjō flew low over the waves, weaving past one aerial slash after another from the Golden Lion above. Each slash tore through sea and sky like the claws of a divine beast.

Up ahead, a mid-sized island came into view.

It wasn’t strange to find one so easily—this was the world of One Piece. The endless seas were dotted with nameless, unexplored islands.

One sweep of his Kenbunshoku Haki told him all he needed: no humans. Just a few flocks of seabirds nesting in the treeline.

Perfect.

Kyūjō smirked and accelerated, slamming into the island’s surface in a burst of dust and debris.

Moments later, Shiki descended after him, landing in his own unhurried style. He already knew what this boy was planning.

But he was Shiki. The Golden Lion.

A lion doesn’t run from a challenge—especially not from an upstart wolf pup.

Something else caught Shiki’s attention. This boy’s Kenbunshoku was sharp—sharper than most he’d met. Before he could even finish a kick to launch a flying slash, the kid had already dodged.

Hitting him from a distance would be a waste of effort.

So Shiki stopped wasting it. His descent slowed until the twin blades attached to his legs—Oto and Kogarashi—scraped against the island’s soil with a grating, metallic hiss.

He crossed his arms, chest forward, and closed the distance step by step.

“Young man…” His voice was low but carried a weight that pressed against the skin. “You’re trying to use me as a stepping stone to reach an even higher rank of Master Swordsman, aren’t you?”

Shiki didn’t wait for an answer.

“Then tell me… Do you even know what a true Master Swordsman is?”

His gaze was like the edge of a blade.

“A Master Swordsman must have the will to win. The courage to be undefeated. And… a deep, personal understanding of the way of the sword.”

“Only with all three… does one deserve the title.”

“Are you ready to die, boy?”

“To challenge a lion… you should know the price is steep.”

“If you can’t pay that price, then you might as well die here.”

The moment his words ended, a wave of sword force ripped through the ground, splitting the island’s soil as it surged toward Kyūjō.

But this time, Kyūjō didn’t dodge.

He tightened his grip on his black blade, Rairyūken, and charged straight in.

Lightning roared.

Their slashes met mid-air.

The shockwave thundered across the island, spreading into the surrounding sea. Lightning clashed with wind, creating a chaotic symphony—wild and untamed.

The collision didn’t end quickly.

Day turned to night. Night bled into morning. And morning cycled back to day.

Three days and three nights of nonstop battle.

Until finally…

Silence fell over the island.

The island itself, however… could barely be called an island anymore.

Its size had shrunk to barely a quarter of what it once was. The forests and mountains were gone. All that remained was barren soil and vast craters—deep fissures splitting the land, some hundreds of meters deep and stretching nearly a kilometer.

And that wasn’t even Shiki’s full power.

If he had used his Fuwa Fuwa no Mi to split the island apart, he could have destroyed it entirely in an instant.

But that wouldn’t serve against Kyūjō. The boy would just find another island to fight on. Inefficient.

Besides, his pride as a swordsman wouldn’t allow it. Against a new-generation swordsman’s challenge, he would answer with the twin blades at his feet.

He would win.

And kill the boy without mercy.

That was the pride of a lion.

— — —

“Haa… Haa…”

The heavy, uneven breathing filled the air.

But it wasn’t Kyūjō making that sound.

It was Shiki.

The old lion… was growing tired.

Three days of fighting might sound long, but for Shiki in his prime, it was nothing.

What wore him down wasn’t just the opponent in front of him—it was the constant pain radiating from the ship’s helm lodged in his skull. The throbbing, the nausea, the fatigue, the dizziness… it never went away.

A memory stirred.

A great war. A battle that shook an era.

The Edd War.

That was where he lost to Gol D. Roger.

He had lost because of the storm—not Roger himself. He had never accepted that defeat as truth.

When he returned to prove the Golden Lion still reigned… Roger was already captured.

Executed by the Marines.

The absurdity of it was something he could never accept.

So he stormed Marineford alone.

Slaughtered many Marines. Nearly destroyed their entire headquarters.

Only for Garp and Sengoku to bring him down.

But even that loss didn’t stop him.

He escaped Impel Down—alone, without legs, and with his life hanging by a thread.

That was who he was. Gold Lion Shiki.

— — —

Shiki looked up at the young man standing before him now.

Kyūjō’s body was far more battered than his own.

Yet the boy’s eyes… hadn’t dimmed.

Shiki furrowed his brow and growled:

“Kid… If you want to defeat me…”

“You’re a hundred years too early.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep