Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Imai found herself cutting through the ranks of marines and pirates alike. Her blades sliced effortlessly, her movements swift and precise. Enemies fell before they could even comprehend their defeat. Despite the chaotic alliances, it felt as though she were her own faction—a solitary force carving her path through the carnage.
"Tsk, how annoying," Imai muttered, cleaving yet another opponent in two.
Her focus shifted momentarily to a pair of warriors who stood out amidst the fray. A red-and-white-haired girl and her blue-haired companion fought in perfect tandem, dismantling their enemies with grace and efficiency. They were the Dames of the Empress, fiercely loyal knights of Imai. Their synchronized efforts cleared a path, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.
An hour passed.
The battlefield was painted crimson, the once-icy terrain stained with blood. Bodies lay scattered—casualties of their own weakness and the unforgiving nature of war. Imai's grip on her blades tightened.
"This is the fate of the unworthy," she murmured. "They could never achieve what I've been blessed with—this natural talent for killing."
A sinister grin spread across her face as she uttered, "Sovereign's Secret Technique: Illusionary Purgatory."
With Haki coursing through her legs, Imai darted through the crowd. Her blades moved with lethal precision, and the pressure she exuded struck fear into her enemies. The illusion she cast was horrifying: guillotines descending upon their necks, sealing their fate. For many, their final moments were spent staring at the shadow of death before reality claimed them.
The battlefield was drenched in despair.
Suddenly, a sandstorm swirled around her.
"I know this power," Imai said, narrowing her eyes. "The Bisu Bisu no Mi... you're from Big Mom's crew. Charlotte Cracker, was it?"
Emerging from the storm was a tall man wielding a double-edged sword. His expression was one of disdain.
"You remember me? I'm flattered," Cracker said. "But flattery won't save you. By order of Big Mom, your existence ends here!"
"Big Mom, huh? I saved her life once. Funny way to repay me," Imai remarked casually.
"She never asked for your help!" Cracker snapped. "Mother doesn't need saving, especially from the likes of you!"
Imai chuckled, twirling her blade. "Ah, so she didn't tell you the full story. No matter. Come at me, boy. Let's see if you can prove your worth."
Cracker lunged, but Imai met his swing effortlessly, her blade clashing with his. Their weapons locked momentarily, and she flashed him a wide grin.
"Is this all you've got?" she taunted. "I don't even need both blades for you."
Frustrated, Cracker summoned his biscuit soldiers. They charged at her, but she dismantled them as though they were made of paper. Dust and crumbs filled the air as Imai's blade struck true, forcing Cracker to stumble back.
"Pathetic," Imai sneered. "Weak, slow, scared. You'll never gain her acknowledgment, not while you're this fragile."
Cracker's eyes widened in fear as Imai closed the distance, her blade poised to strike.
Before the blow landed, another sword intercepted hers. A towering figure stepped into view, her long silver hair flowing like a waterfall.
"Smoothie," Cracker gasped, relief evident in his voice.
The newcomer spared him a glance. "Stay back. I'll handle her."
Imai's eyes gleamed with interest. "Another of Big Mom's children? This time a daughter. Let me guess—Charlotte Smoothie?"
"That's Charlotte Smoothie to you," she replied coldly, brandishing her blade.
"Right, right. Guess I'll remember your name if you make this interesting."
"This ends here, for my mother and my brother," Smoothie declared, her blade slicing through the air.
"More mommy issues," Imai said, rolling her eyes. "How does Big Mom even have so many kids? Surely some of you were mistakes—"
"Shut it!" Smoothie roared, her blade swinging with deadly intent.
Imai ducked, her grin widening. "Now that's more like it."
Smoothie was strong—her form flawless, her movements precise. Imai could see it in the way her stance revealed no openings, the way her grip exuded confidence. But strength and experience alone wouldn't save her.
Imai darted to Smoothie's unarmed side, testing her reflexes with playful swings. Smoothie adjusted seamlessly, her leg narrowly escaping a fatal cut.
"You've trained that body to perfection," Imai remarked.
"I don't need compliments from you," Smoothie spat.
"Would you prefer them from men, then?"
"...!"
Smoothie's grip tightened, anger flaring within her. She lunged forward, her blade crashing against Imai's. But no matter how hard she pushed, Imai blocked with ease—using only one hand.
"Love the rose tattoo on your leg, by the way," Imai teased.
Infuriated, Smoothie swung her leg in a vicious kick. Imai caught it effortlessly, dropping her blade and gripping Smoothie's leg with both hands.
"Too predictable," she said, yanking Smoothie off balance and slamming her onto the icy ground.
Momentum building, Imai swung Smoothie like a ragdoll before launching her through the remnants of Cracker's sandstorm.
Smoothie's body collided with the ice, the impact leaving a visible imprint. She lay unconscious, a foot-shaped mark pressed into her stomach.
As Imai landed gracefully beside her defeated opponent, a familiar presence loomed in the distance.
Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom herself—stood there, her expression a mask of pure hatred.
"We meet again, Charlotte Linlin," Imai said, her grin never wavering.