From the moment Katakuri saw Tachibana Kyūjō raise his hand, something clicked inside him.

His Kenbunshoku Haki—strong enough to catch glimpses of the future—gave him a vision.

And what he saw was terrifying.

Eight seconds from now… he would be knocked out cold by a single punch.

…What?!

Katakuri’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened ever so slightly. But almost immediately, he inhaled deeply and focused his mind.

“Steady your breath…”

Suppressing the rising shock in his chest, he poured every last drop of his Busoshoku Haki into his entire body. He wouldn’t go down without a fight—not without giving it everything he had.

But even as he steeled himself, the next five seconds only filled him with dread.

He tried—again and again—adjusting his attack angle, tweaking his trajectory, preparing a different move…

None of it changed the outcome.

In every possible future he could see—he still got dropped by a single hit.

It reminded him of something.

There was only one time he had ever felt this helpless. That time when his mother, Charlotte Linlin, went berserk from her insatiable hunger… and no one could stop her.

Could it be… this man standing before him—

Was on the same level as a Yonko?

Cold sweat broke out across Katakuri’s back.

He wasn’t someone who feared anyone. But he wasn’t an idiot either. Falling from the sky like this… wasn’t he basically handing himself over?

At this speed, though, there was no turning back. He could only charge forward, directly into the aura of purplish-red Busoshoku Haki surging around Kyūjō’s clenched fist.

There was no escaping now.

So, with no other choice, Katakuri silenced all hesitation. He channeled all his might into his jet-black trident and thrust it straight at his target.

A violent shockwave cracked through the air.

In one decisive motion—Kyūjō’s iron fist shattered the trident into pieces.

And continued forward.

It slammed into Katakuri’s forehead with an explosive impact.

In that instant—

Katakuri’s body went limp mid-air, his pupils rolling back into a lifeless white. A breath later, his towering frame crashed hard into the ground, back first.

A massive bump the size of a melon began swelling on his forehead in a blink.

“Fuuuh…”

Kyūjō lightly blew over his reddened knuckles, the heat still clinging from air friction. Wisps of steam trailed off his skin. Then, folding his arms calmly, he stood silently in place.

He didn’t follow up with another blow.

Katakuri was already unconscious. And Kyūjō had no intention of killing him.

Not because he couldn’t.

But because killing him would trigger too many complications.

It could shake the balance of power among the Yonko, provoke a retaliatory invasion from the Big Mom Pirates before G-11 Base was fully secured, or even spark an all-out war between the Marines and the pirates of the New World…

And besides—

Tachibana Kyūjō held no personal grudge against Katakuri.

He may have been born into a pirate family, but that didn’t make him evil. His one true goal… was to protect his family.

The problem was, some of that family were more deserving of elimination than protection.

Katakuri was cold on the outside, warm on the inside. Behind that stern face and calm demeanor was someone who deeply cared—for his siblings, for his crew.

Even when he fought Luffy, the future Pirate King, he had shown respect. He wanted a fair duel. He had formed, in some quiet way, a mutual understanding with the straw-hatted boy.

— — —

Moments later, Smoothie and Cracker arrived.

And what they saw froze them in place.

Katakuri—their Katakuri—lay unconscious, flat on his back.

The unbeatable Nii-san they had admired their whole lives…

Was downed just like that?

Cracker’s eyes burned with rage. With a furious snarl, his massive biscuit armor surged forward.

He couldn’t accept this.

No way Nii-san lost fairly!

It had to be a trick. It had to be!

“Pretzel Slash – Shockwave!”

The hulking biscuit suit raised its giant sword, unleashing a sharp wave of pressure in a blinding arc toward Kyūjō!

But Kyūjō didn’t flinch. He stood unmoved, arms still crossed, calmly watching Cracker’s tantrum like a stage play.

Ever since his “Awakening,” foes like this barely stirred his blood anymore.

The shockwave reached him.

And he tilted his head—

Just slightly.

The slash missed.

He exhaled through his nose, lowered his stance, and rested one hand casually at his waist—on the hilt of his blade.

It was then that Smoothie, herself a swordswoman, recognized it.

That presence… the weight behind his stance…

This man—he was a true swordsman. A master.

But by the time realization dawned, it was already too late.

She could only watch.

As another sibling fell.

As Kyūjō and Cracker passed each other—

His blade was already drawn.

“Black Blade: Rairyūken.”

A flash of steel. A roar of thunder.

The biscuit armor was cleaved in two. Cracker’s head—real head—separated cleanly from his body.

Without even returning his sword to its sheath, Kyūjō turned and began walking toward Smoothie.

Just because he spared Katakuri didn’t mean he would show mercy to the others.

Especially not these two—Cracker, who was now dead, and Smoothie, the woman with a sword and a grotesque Paramecia ability: Shibo Shibo no Mi.

A fruit that could “squeeze” liquid out of anything…

Disgusting.

The pressure radiating from Kyūjō’s body distorted the air, crushing Smoothie’s chest like an invisible hand.

Her fury from seeing Cracker fall turned instantly into raw terror.

Her body trembled. Her muscles locked up. And an urge to scream—or cry—rushed up her throat.

She didn’t want to die.

But did she ever stop to think about her own victims?

The people she drained dry with her cursed Devil Fruit…

Did they want to die?

Did they feel afraid?

Right then—

Even while unconscious, Katakuri seemed to sense his sister’s fear.

And his instincts exploded.

His battered body—still wearing the massive lump on his forehead—suddenly jolted upright.

His blood-red eyes snapped open, brimming with pain and fury.

And from him burst a shockwave of pure Haoshoku Haki, rippling through the air like a violent storm.

All of it aimed—

At the man who now stood like the final boss of this entire world…

Tachibana Kyūjō.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep