Chapter 1: The Unseen Flame
The sky over Marineford darkened in an instant.
The violent winds whipped through the naval battlefield, sending waves crashing into the shores of the island. A storm had gathered, one that none of the Marines, pirates, or warlords could explain. The air grew thick with an oppressive pressure—an overwhelming presence that gripped the hearts of all who stood there.
For a moment, the fighting paused. The pirates, engaged in brutal battles, and the Marines, standing firm in their ranks, all felt it—the sensation of something immense, something ancient, approaching.
In the sky above Marineford, a crack in reality opened wide. A blinding light erupted from the fracture, a tear in the very fabric of the world. It was as if the heavens themselves had been rent apart. From the churning void, something massive began to fall, a shadow descending with the weight of an inevitable fate.
Across the battlefield, chaos momentarily ceased. The pirates' expressions turned from fierce determination to one of sheer bewilderment. The Marines, still maintaining their discipline, tightened their grips on their weapons, eyes scanning the heavens.
Luffy, who had been engaged in his own heated battle, paused mid-swing, his eyes flicking upward with the intensity of a man who had seen far too many strange things in his life.
"What is that?!" he shouted, unable to tear his gaze away from the spectacle above.
The Marines, too, were frozen in place, unsure of what was coming. Even the most battle-hardened among them felt it—a chill creeping down their spines, the unmistakable feeling that something far beyond their comprehension was about to collide with their world.
The object hurtled toward them with a speed that defied reason, plummeting like a falling star. It was coming fast, and nothing could stop it.
The collision was inevitable.
Then, with an explosion of sound that could be heard across the seas, the sky split open.
A figure—no, an entire being—crashed onto the field of Marineford. The impact was so powerful that the very earth trembled beneath it. The force of the landing sent a shockwave across the island, and the ground cracked and splintered beneath the weight of the arrival.
For a brief, staggering moment, no one could speak. No one could even move. The air, charged with an overwhelming power, made it hard to breathe.
And then, amidst the devastation, he stood.
His form was imposing, shrouded in the aftermath of his descent—a tall, withered figure draped in the tattered remains of a Shinigami captain's uniform. His expression was one of detached indifference, his gaze sweeping across the chaotic battlefield as though he were witnessing a passing nuisance.
He was an old man, his face lined with the deep wrinkles of time. His eyes, however, burned with an intensity that belied his age. He stood there, gazing down at the scene in front of him, his stance unshaken by the destruction he had caused.
He stood with both of his arms. His right arm, once severed in a battle long past, was now whole again. He flexed it instinctively, as though testing its strength, and he was seem to be surprised by its return. His left hand gripped the hilt of his zanpakuto—Ryūjin Jakka - the strongest zanpakuto in existence, befitting the unparalleled power of the Captain Commander of the Gotei 13.
The silence in Marineford was deafening.
Then, the pressure hit.
The energy emanating from this mysterious figure was so overwhelming that it caused many of the weaker soldiers to buckle under its weight. Some pirates and Marines collapsed to the ground, their faces pale as though the very life force had been drained from them. The air became charged with an energy so potent, so potent, that it seemed as if the very heavens themselves were trembling.
Akainu, stood at the head of his Marine forces, his eyes narrowing at the figure. His hands clenched into fists. The source of this power was no mystery to him. He had felt similar auras before, but this was something different. Something far beyond the likes of what he had ever faced.
Akainu growled under his breath, his mind calculating the immediate danger.
Without a word, the old man raised his sword, his grip steady and resolute. The Shinigami did not seem to care for the world around him; his eyes flicked over the various factions—pirates, Marines, and Warlords—without a hint of emotion.
He muttered to himself, barely audible over the chaos.
"All things in the universe… burn to ashes."
And then, without warning, the air around him ignited.
Flames erupted from his body as though he were the very embodiment of fire itself. The intense heat sent a wave of panic through the Marines, and even the bravest pirates instinctively took a step back. Akainu's eyes widened, his brow furrowing as he felt the excruciating temperature rise. His hands clenched into fists, his magma powers bubbling to the surface as he charged forward.
"You'll regret that, old man!" Akainu roared, his body surging with the force of magma. His fist erupted into a molten spear of lava, an attack aimed directly at the old man's chest.
But the old Shinigami did not flinch.
In one fluid motion, he drew his blade, slicing through the air with an ease that betrayed the centuries of battle experience within him.
The flames around him roared, magnifying his power, and for a split second, Akainu saw the old man's eyes—deep, focused, and cold. Then, the sword moved.
A single slash.
The heat was unbearable.
Akainu's eyes widened as he realized too late that his attack had been cut through, as if his very magma had been nothing more than a flicker of light. The old man's sword cleaved through his attack effortlessly and continued its path. Before Akainu could react, the sword moved with such precision that his arm was severed cleanly at the shoulder.
Blood spurted from the stump, the wound cauterized by the sheer heat of the attack.
The battlefield went silent.
Akainu stood frozen, the stump of his arm dripping with magma and blood. His face contorted with shock and pain, his breathing labored as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.
Around them, the shockwaves of the fight sent ripples through the sea of onlookers. The pirates, Marines, and Warlords alike stood in stunned silence, unable to process the overwhelming power they had just witnessed.
The old man stood still, his sword still held firmly in his hand.
He didn't even look at Akainu's severed arm. His eyes were still fixed on the distant horizon, as though he were waiting for something else to unfold.
Akainu's body quivered in rage, but the pain was too much. He stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder, unable to summon the will to fight further. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly vulnerable.
The old Shinigami's gaze flicked down to him, but there was no emotion in his eyes. Just an indifferent, unfeeling stare that spoke volumes.
"I should have died" the old man muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
And then, with a flicker of movement so fast it was barely perceptible, he vanished.
In an instant, he was gone—his presence faded as if he had never been there.
The tension in the air slowly began to fade, but no one moved. Everyone was still processing what had just transpired.