"Niten Ichi Ryū: Hell Dragon's Descent!"
The sky itself seemed to shudder under the wrath of my strike. A colossal, ethereal dragon, wreathed in jet-black flames and coursing with crackling arcs of golden lightning, tore through the heavens.
It spiraled downward, its maw wide open, as if ready to consume Redfield whole. The very air was a battlefield of wills as the unleashed energy carved jagged tears in the fabric of space, displacing the roiling purple mist and creating a vortex of suffocating pressure.
I roared above the storm, both Shusui and Akatsuki humming with raw, destructive power. Black lightning danced across my body, clashing violently against the overwhelming Conqueror's Haki that emanated from Redfield like a tidal wave.
But I refused to back down, my own Haki surging forth, colliding with his in a furious storm of sparks and thunder, pushing back Redfield's monstrous Haki.
"You've grown clumsy, Redfield! For someone rumored to have stood beside the likes of Shiki and Roger, I expected better—much, much better!" My voice boomed across the battlefield, an accusation, a declaration of dominance.
Yet Redfield remained silent. His crimson eyes, sharp as a predator's, narrowed with deadly focus. He ignored my taunts, centering his entire being into his counter.
The blood-soaked lance in his grasp shimmered, infused with an unnerving mix of Armament and Conqueror's Haki, radiating a malicious energy that seemed to distort reality around it. The lance pulsed, alive with a dreadful intent.
"Eclipse Strike: Blood Moon Severance!"
Redfield thrust the lance into the air, twisting it with an almost supernatural precision. A crimson vortex formed above him, pulling in the remnants of the purple mist and condensing it into a sphere of deep, swirling crimson light.
The sphere began to spin wildly, darkening as if it were consuming the surrounding light itself. A blood-red crescent slash shot forth from the lance, splitting into hundreds of scything arcs that screamed through the air like the wails of vengeful spirits. Each arc was razor-sharp and surged with the weight of pure, refined hatred.
As my Hell Dragon descended, its fiery maw open wide, the arcs of Redfield's Blood Moon Severance converged, slashing at the dragon with devastating precision. The collision between the two attacks was cataclysmic.
The impact created an explosion that swallowed the battlefield whole. A deep, guttural roar tore through the heavens as the Hell Dragon and Blood Moon Severance collided, their energies intertwining in a chaotic dance of destruction. The force of the clash birthed a shockwave of unimaginable magnitude, ripping through the land like a scythe through wheat.
The once-pristine landscape was utterly obliterated. Mountains that had stood for eons were reduced to crumbling rubble, their towering peaks shattered into dust.
Valleys collapsed into gaping chasms, and forests were incinerated in an instant, leaving only blackened stumps where life once thrived. The very earth cracked and groaned under the pressure, splitting apart and casting chunks of land into the air like debris caught in a hurricane.
The air turned heavy with ash and debris, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. My ears rang from the sheer force of the explosion, but I could still feel the overwhelming weight of Redfield's presence pressing against me like a relentless tide.
The ground beneath me trembled violently, and my feet slid across the cracked, charred earth as I pushed back against the oppressive force.
When the dust finally began to settle, Redfield stood amidst the devastation, his lance still glowing faintly with residual energy. Blood trickled from the gash across his torso, its ominous black hue refusing to let the wound close, and his breaths came heavy and labored.
Despite his injuries, his crimson eyes burned with unyielding determination, a predator sizing up its prey.
"You've sharpened your claws well, boy," he finally growled, his voice low and venomous. "But power like yours... is still raw. Still reckless. And reckless power gets devoured by those who know how to wield it."
My grip on Shusui and Akatsuki tightened, my body trembling not from fear but from the sheer excitement, the force of my own unleashed Haki warring against Redfield's oppressive presence. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, blood dripping from a shallow cut on my cheek.
"Keep talking, Redfield. Maybe you'll convince yourself you still stand a chance."
For a moment, there was silence between us—a calm before the storm, a pause that seemed to stretch on forever. The battlefield around us bore witness to the clash of two titans, and even the heavens seemed to hold their breath as we prepared for the next exchange.
Shusui and Akatsuki hummed in my hands, their edges glowing faintly, as if resonating with the remnants of the ethereal dragon's might. Redfield, on the other hand, leaned heavily on his lance, his lips curled into a thin smile of grudging respect despite the blood trickling down his chest.
"You've surpassed my expectations, brat," Redfield growled, his voice hoarse yet tinged with amusement. "But don't think for a second that I'm done. The world doesn't remember me for my failures."
I steadied my breath, the ground beneath me cracked and unstable. "For someone who's lived chasing legends, you seem awfully desperate to keep your own alive. Let's see if you can withstand the next."
Redfield stood tall, his imposing form radiating raw power. Purple lightning danced chaotically around him as his Conqueror's Haki surged outward, a tempest of willpower that sent cracks rippling through the already shattered ground.
His crimson eyes gleamed with disdain, but a shadow of frustration flickered behind them as he realized something that made his chest tighten.
No matter how much pressure he exerted, no matter how ferocious his conqueror's haki roared, mine did not waver. It stood firm—a towering, immovable mountain pressing down upon him.
For a fleeting moment, Redfield's eyes widened, a rare flicker of doubt etched into his face. His voice turned cold, but there was a subtle tremor beneath the bravado.
"I've survived against the true monsters of this world, brat. Shiki, Roger, Garp—the names that shake the very seas! Do you think landing a single blow means you can best me?"
I chuckled softly at first, then broke into a booming laugh that echoed across the desolate battlefield, a sound that grated against Redfield's ears. His frown deepened.
"One attack? Is that what you think?" I said, my voice sharp with mocking. "Hiding in the shadows for decades has made you blind, Redfield. Dull. That wasn't just an attack—it was the beginning of your end."
Redfield started to respond, but his words died in his throat as a sudden, sharp pain flared in his chest. His face twisted in discomfort, his hand instinctively clutching the jagged wound across his torso.
Blood still seeped from the gash, and worse, it refused to heal. His mythical Zoan regeneration—one of his greatest assets—was utterly useless. His eyes flickered down to the crimson blade in my grip. The realization struck him like a thunderclap.
"What kind of cursed weapon is that...?" he snarled, his voice low and dangerous, though a bead of sweat betrayed the unease beneath his bravado.
Even now, the wound felt as though it were devouring him, consuming his haki bit by bit. He felt weaker with every breath, the pressure inside him building as his legendary resilience was eroded by an unknown force.
Redfield's gaze fixed on my crimson blade, its eerie, blood-red glow pulsing in the aftermath of our earlier clash. From the moment I had drawn it, he had felt an inexplicable unease, as if it were alive—watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike deeper.
He cursed under his breath. He had faced many cursed blades, but this was different. This was something primal.
Worse still, his mind reeled with another realization.
"A devil fruit user like you... how are you even holding that abomination?" he spat, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That blade is a bane to devil fruit users, yet you wield it like it's an extension of your own soul."
I smirked, taking a single step forward, the motion deliberate and heavy. Shusui hummed softly at my side, while the crimson blade—Akatsuki—glowed brighter, as if feeding on Redfield's despair.
"Perhaps you should stop worrying about my weapon, Redfield, and start worrying about your life. You've lost your edge. The sea doesn't forgive weakness. And if this is all your strength accounts for, then I am sorely disappointed".
Redfield's jaw clenched, but his expression shifted. The fleeting flicker of doubt vanished, replaced by a savage grin that revealed his sharpened fangs.
"Weakness? You dare mock me? If I were the sort to fall for something like this, the sea would've swallowed me whole long ago!"
With a guttural roar, Redfield did the unthinkable. In one brutal, decisive motion, he drove his transformed weapon into his own chest, severing the flesh around the cursed wound with surgical precision. Blood sprayed from the self-inflicted injury, painting the shattered ground in crimson. He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate—his focus was absolute.
I stood frozen for a moment, caught off guard by his ruthlessness. The sheer decisiveness of his act demanded respect.
"If the poison festers, you cut it out! That's the law of survival on these seas, boy!" Redfield roared, ripping the lance free with a sickening squelch.
He staggered for only a moment before steadying himself, his Conqueror's Haki surging again, darker and sharper than before. The air seemed to hum with tension as he squared his stance, his unyielding gaze locked onto mine.
For all his theatrics, Redfield wasn't just a pirate—he was a survivor. Decades of battles against the strongest had honed his instincts to a razor's edge.
"You've got spirit, kid, I'll give you that. But don't think for a second that I've lost this fight. If I am being honest, we haven't even started fighting earnestly. You don't know what I am truly capable of."
The ground trembled beneath his feet as his haki flared, forming a dense aura around him. Lightning sparked, the air thick with the weight of his will. He raised his lance, now slick with his own blood, and pointed it directly at me.
"Let's see if that cursed blade of yours can keep up when I show you why the world once trembled at the name Patrick Redfield!"
The battlefield roared to life once more, as the storm of our wills collided. Neither of us intended to back down, and the shattered land bore witness to the fury of legends.
****
Smoker stood rooted to the ground, the dense smoke he had conjured swirling around him in chaotic eddies. He had fought countless battles, faced enemies whose very names made the world tremble, yet nothing had prepared him for the sight unfolding before him now.
His heart hammered against his ribcage as he watched Rob Lucci—the cold and calculated weapon of the World Government—undergo a transformation so profound, so utterly otherworldly, that it defied comprehension.
At first, it was subtle. The faint shimmer of his skin, the unnatural glow in his eyes. Then, with a guttural growl that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself, Lucci's body began to swell. His dark silhouette loomed larger and larger, the air itself rippling from the heat and pressure of his expanding hybrid form.
"Smoker," Lucci's voice rumbled, distorted and layered as if a thousand voices spoke in unison. His calm, menacing tone was now laced with a primal edge, vibrating through Smoker's chest.
"Watch closely. This is the form of my mythical Zoan fruit that you were dying to see."
Smoker stood frozen, his instincts screaming at him to flee as the transformation began. Lucci, already a towering figure in his hybrid form, suddenly emanated a suffocating pressure that made the air itself feel heavier.
Tendrils of crimson energy spiraled around his body, shimmering with a fluid, serpentine motion as if alive.
Then, his body began to shift—stretching unnaturally. His feline form elongated, his limbs receding as his figure coiled and twisted like an enormous serpent ascending into the heavens.
Smoke and soot swirled around him, but Smoker could see the shape taking form within, each movement accompanied by an ominous hum, like the rumble of an approaching storm.
The first clear sight came as Lucci's scales began to shimmer with a ruby brilliance, their glossy surface reflecting the dim light of the battlefield. Each scale was sharp and precise, resembling polished gemstones embedded into his elongated form. His once-clawed hands fused into regal forelimbs adorned with five talons, delicate yet deadly.
A mane of fiery crimson fur sprouted along his neck and head, cascading down his sinuous body like a flowing river of flame. It danced with an ethereal light, each strand flickering as though embers burned within it.
Two elongated horns curved gracefully upward from his head, their surface etched with ancient, mystic patterns that seemed to pulse with life.
From his mouth emerged fangs that gleamed like polished ivory, each sharp enough to sever diamonds. His whiskers flowed like twin ribbons in the wind, exuding a sense of majesty, while his elongated snout bore a regal, almost serene expression—betrayed only by the fiery intensity of his slit-like, golden eyes.
As the smoke cleared further, the rest of his body came into view. His sinuous frame coiled effortlessly through the air, his long, undulating tail ending in a jagged, spear-like tip that crackled with crimson energy. Wisps of steam rose from his nostrils, and with each deep inhale, the battlefield seemed to tremble as though the land itself acknowledged his presence.
The transformation reached its crescendo as Lucci let loose an earth-shaking roar. The smoke and soot that had blanketed the surrounding battlefield were blown away in an instant, revealing his form in all its terrifying majesty. Smoker staggered back, his usually unflappable composure shattered. This was no man. This was no mere Zoan beast. This was a god.
"Lucci…you sick little bastard. You ate a dragon fruit….!" Smoker bellowed in envy and in disbelief; he had always wondered why his friend had kept his mythical Zoan ability a secret, but not even in his wildest dreams did he expect Lucci to be the mythical Dragon of ancient lore.
Lucci now towered over the battlefield, his crimson scales glinting like blood-stained armor beneath the faint sunlight that struggled to pierce through the haze. His horns curled upward, jagged and imposing, wreathed in wisps of steam that hissed from his nostrils. His eyes burned like twin suns, radiating an oppressive aura that seemed to crush everything in its path.
The skies themselves seemed to cower before him, darkening as his presence choked the atmosphere. The sea churned violently at his feet, waves crashing against the shore as if bowing to the dragon's overwhelming dominion.
For the first time in years since he had come to know Lucci, Smoker felt a tremor of fear crawl down his spine. It wasn't just the sheer size or power of Lucci's dragon form—it was the suffocating aura that radiated from him.
A primal, ancient terror that seemed to bypass all reason, gripping Smoker's very soul. His logia instincts urged him to scatter into smoke and flee, but his legs refused to obey.
"This… This is impossible," Smoker muttered under his breath, his candy slipping from his lips. "No one told me to be ready for … this."
Lucci tilted his massive head downward, his golden, reptilian eyes locking onto Smoker with cold indifference. When he finally spoke, his voice was a guttural, echoing yet teasing growl that seemed to reverberate through the heavens.
"Terrified, Smoker? Good. That fear will remind you of your place in the hierarchy of our family."
Without warning, Lucci flexed his powerful limbs and launched into the air with a thunderous roar, the shockwave alone flattening trees and sending debris flying in all directions. He hovered high above, his form casting a massive shadow over the battlefield.
The sight of his immense form, his crimson scales glinting in the faint sunlight, and the storm clouds that seemed to gather unnaturally around him was enough to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who dared to look up.
Smoker gritted his teeth, his fists trembling as he forced himself to stand tall beneath the overwhelming weight of Lucci's transformation. The sheer intensity of the crimson dragon's presence made every instinct scream for retreat.
He had sparred with Lucci countless times, faced nightmares in the New World, but this? This was something else entirely—an ascension that dwarfed anything he could fathom.
For a moment, he felt utterly powerless. Smoker hated that feeling.
"This bastard…" he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling up alongside grudging admiration. His haki flared defiantly, even as it faltered under the suffocating pressure. His pride wouldn't let him kneel, even if his instincts begged him to bow before the god-like aura Lucci exuded.
Smoker couldn't help but feel bitter. "Damn it," he hissed, clenching his jaw. He had always prided himself on being one of the strongest of his generation in the Family—a rival even to Lucci. But now, standing in the shadow of this monstrous form, Smoker felt like a kid sparring with an adult.
"Tch. I swear, if it weren't for that damn fruit, I'd be the one standing there as a mythical zoan," he grumbled to himself. Smoker still remembered that moment when he greedily chomped down on his logia fruit, thinking he'd gained the ultimate power.
Back then, it had seemed like a golden ticket to dominance. Now, knowing what could have been—a mythical zoan, maybe even something on par with Lucci's dragon form—he could only sulk.
"Why the hell did I rush it?" Smoker groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "Young Master Ross even said I had the potential. 'Smoker, you could've been a mythical zoan powerhouse,' he said. 'Too bad you stuffed your face with the smoke fruit, you idiot.'"
The thought of Ross's disappointed smirk made Smoker want to scream. Worse, he could already imagine Lucci's snide remarks.
"Oh, the little bastard is never gonna let me live this down," Smoker grumbled, casting a bitter glance toward the towering crimson dragon.
Despite the frustration, Smoker couldn't help but grin through his annoyance. He and Lucci had always been like brothers—constantly butting heads, competing to see who could reach the top faster. Their sibling rivalry was fierce but rooted in mutual respect.
"Lucci," Smoker muttered, his voice laced with mock irritation. "I swear, one day I'm gonna beat you to a pulp, mythical dragon or not. You hear me, you smug little twat? One day, I'll knock that oversized lizard head of yours clean off your shoulders!"
Above him, Lucci's massive form coiled in the air, his scales glinting like molten rubies. He didn't respond with words, but Smoker swore he saw a flicker of amusement in those piercing, golden eyes. The dragon's massive maw curled into what could only be described as a smirk.
"Oh, you think this is funny?" Smoker barked, jabbing a finger at the sky. "Laugh it up, you overgrown gecko! You're still the same brat who got his ass handed to him when we sparred three years ago!"
The crimson dragon let out a deep rumble, a sound that was unmistakably a chuckle. Smoker's blood boiled. "Oh, that's it. You wait, Lucci. The second you turn back into a human, I'm kicking your—"
Smoker's rant was cut short as Lucci's massive frame shifted. The air around him shimmered with heat, the ground beneath cracking from the intensity of his presence. With a deep inhale, the dragon's chest began to glow, pulsing with a fiery crimson light that grew brighter with each passing second.
Smoker's instincts kicked in. His eyes widened as he realized what was coming. "Oh, hell no—don't you dare!" he shouted, scrambling backward.
The crimson dragon opened its maw, revealing a swirling vortex of energy within. The heat was unbearable, warping the air and turning the soot-filled sky into a blazing inferno.
"Lucci!" Smoker roared, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "I'm on your side, you idiot! Don't annihilate me just because I insulted your ugly mug!"
But Lucci wasn't aiming at Smoker. His massive, glowing eyes locked onto the icy phoenix spiraling above the battlefield.
"Ah…" Smoker exhaled, wiping his brow. "Guess I'm not his target after all."
The ground trembled as Lucci unleashed his attack. A blinding torrent of crimson energy erupted from his maw, tearing through the sky with a deafening roar.
The blast was like a comet, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Smoker shielded his face as the shockwave barreled past him, the sheer force uprooting trees and shattering boulders.
The deafening screech of the phoenix echoed across the battlefield, but it was drowned out by the guttural roar of the crimson dragon. Theon's ice phoenix, majestic and regal, flared its icy blue wings in defiance, frost cascading from its feathers and chilling the air.
But even its brilliance was dimmed by the ominous presence of the serpentine dragon drifting ominously through the soot-filled sky. Theon's instincts screamed warnings, primal and unrelenting—this was not a battle between equals. This was a predator toying with prey.
Theon's talons glowed with an icy aura as he flapped his massive wings, summoning a torrent of jagged ice shards that launched toward the dragon.
The shards glistened with lethal intent, streaking through the air like missiles, aimed to pierce through the dragon's seemingly impenetrable scales.
But Lucci's crimson form slithered with a grace that belied its monstrous size. His serpentine body twisted effortlessly through the projectiles, the shards shattering harmlessly against his scales. His golden eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, locking onto the phoenix with an unrelenting hunger.
"You're pathetic for a King; you gave up on honing your Haki just because you consumed a mythical Zoan fruit…?" The dragon's voice rumbled, deep and guttural, carrying a mocking edge that only infuriated Theon further.
Theon roared, wings beating with terrifying force as he surged forward, his talons extended and wreathed in frost. The air froze around him, frost trailing in his wake as he aimed to rip into the dragon's underbelly.
Lucci met the charge head-on, his jaws opening to reveal a swirling vortex of crimson energy. The dragon unleashed another breath attack, a concentrated beam of fiery destruction. Theon's wings flared, a barrier of ice forming to shield him as the beam slammed into his defenses.
The impact sent shockwaves through the air, shattering the barrier but leaving the phoenix unscathed.
"It's truly a waste of such a powerful fruit," Lucci growled, his massive tail lashing out from the smoke. Theon barely had time to react as the tail struck him with the force of a descending meteorite, sending him hurtling across the sky.
Theon steadied himself mid-air, his talons clawing at the air for balance. His chest heaved, frost spewing from his beak as he prepared his next move. With a screech, he dove downward, ice encasing his entire body as he became a glacial missile aimed at the dragon's chest.
Lucci didn't flinch. Instead, he twisted his massive body, his claws slashing upward with a speed and precision that defied his size. Theon's glacial charge met Lucci's claws, and the resulting explosion of frost and fire illuminated the battlefield.
The phoenix cried out as the dragon's claws raked across his chest, tearing through his icy armor and leaving deep gashes that glowed with frostbitten blood. Lucci pressed the advantage, his body coiling around the phoenix in a death grip.
His massive jaws snapped down on one of Theon's wings, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the battlefield as the dragon dragged his prey downward.
Theon struggled, frost erupting from his body in desperate bursts to break free. But Lucci's grip was unyielding, his strength overwhelming. "You're not a rival," Lucci snarled, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're my prey."
With a feral roar, Lucci slammed Theon into the ground, the impact creating a massive crater that obliterated the surrounding landscape. The once-pristine earth was now a battlefield of broken rock and ice, steam rising from where frost and fire clashed.
Theon struggled to rise, his phoenix form battered and bloodied. His wing hung limply at his side, and his icy glow had dimmed. But his eyes burned with determination. With a final cry, he spread his remaining wing, summoning a massive ice storm that engulfed the battlefield.
The temperature plummeted, frost spreading across the ground and freezing the air itself.
Lucci watched, unimpressed, as the storm surged toward him. "Is that all you have?" he growled, his voice vibrating through the air.
The crimson dragon reared back, his chest glowing once more with an intense crimson light. He unleashed another breath attack, this one a swirling vortex of flames that tore through the ice storm like paper. Theon's final attack was obliterated in an instant, leaving the phoenix exposed and vulnerable, at at the mercy of the Crimson beast.