Outside the Sandstone Basin — The Chris Pirates.
"It's started. That's one hell of a racket."
Hearing the thunderous booms coming from within the Sandstone Basin, Arlan, Oliver, and the others all perked up. Their bodies tensed reflexively, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Come on, Captain! Beat that old geezer!" Millie and Mina shouted with clenched fists, their faces alight with excitement. To the twin girls, their captain was utterly invincible.
"The Marines are probably here too," Dimitri suddenly noted.
"We'll track them. Can't let them sneak in any ambushes," Arlan said with a glance around the group.
"Let's move together," Gorbo advised after a moment's thought. "No need to get picked off one by one."
"Move," Oliver growled, a single cold word.
With that, the six core members of the Chris Pirates veered off to the left, circling the basin in search of the Marines.
Marine Forces — Outskirts of the Sandstone Basin.
The blazing desert was merciless, and even the shade beneath the massive sandstone arches offered little relief. Yet despite the sweltering heat, the several hundred Marines stationed there were silent, unnaturally so. Their discipline was absolute, a testament to their elite status.
Within the basin, Vice Admiral Syrons was locked in battle with Aeridar. Leading the Marine force outside was a middle-aged officer with a sharp, angular face, clad in a sea-green checkered shirt beneath the Justice coat. A ten-hand baton rested in his grip—this was Rear Admiral Zoka.
Beside him stood a much younger officer, sweating in a sharp silver-and-black suit, also cloaked in Justice. His stern face was instantly recognizable—it was Commodore Salos Cray, who had previously suffered defeat at Aeridar's hands in Little Garden. Both men were close-combat specialists.
Behind them, a dozen officers of various ranks, including three Captains, stood at attention. Each of them radiated calm strength, seasoned and formidable.
As the booms echoed from within and tremors rippled through the sand beneath their feet, Zoka and Cray furrowed their brows.
"It's begun. The fight's started inside," the officers behind them murmured, clearly unsettled.
Cray narrowed his eyes. "Rear Admiral Zoka, if they're already clashing in there, then the Chris Pirates must be close by."
"Time to track them down," Zoka said, eyes narrowing with a glint of coldness. "Keep those sea rats in check. Who knows what tricks they'll try to pull."
In short order, the Marine detachment was on the move, and interestingly enough, heading in the same direction as the Chris Pirates. The two groups were bound to run into each other soon.
Inside the Sandstone Basin
"Just standing there taking hits? That's not my style. You better watch yourself, you sneaky old fart!"
Two fists collided mid-air, each cloaked in thick layers of Armament Haki. Aeridar's gauntlets, already jet-black, turned even darker as the Haki coated them, glinting with a deadly metallic sheen.
He inhaled deeply, eyes flashing crimson for a split second as his lips curled into a feral grin. Then, with a ground-shaking stomp, he launched forward like a cannonball. The very earth beneath him cracked open, spiderweb fissures spreading outward in his wake. A howling gust of wind followed in his trail as he zeroed in on Vice Admiral Syrons.
"You're just in time. Let's see what you've really got, brat!" Syrons bellowed in response, his stance widening. In a flash, he bolted forward like a fired arrow. His arm transformed into a massive warhammer, swinging down at Aeridar with a roar of displaced air.
"Let me smash that face in!"
Fist met hammer in a thunderous collision. The impact rang out like muffled thunder, echoing through the basin with skull-rattling intensity. The shockwave rippled through the air, distorting the very space around them. Dust and sand exploded upward, and fragments of shattered rock were launched in every direction, embedding deep into the surrounding sandstone walls.
Aeridar felt his bones scream as if he had punched through steel. Even the power of the Impact-Impact Fruit couldn't fully negate the titanic force behind Syrons' strike. He skidded backward, gouging deep prints into the sandstone, seven or eight of them, each a full inch deep, the tread of his boots clearly stamped into the ground.
He had to redirect the force downward just to avoid being blown away entirely.
Syrons wasn't spared either. Though he only left five prints, they too were deep, and told a tale of raw, monstrous power. He stood his ground, barely.
"Damn... this old coot really is someone Crocodile deemed a threat," Aeridar muttered, rolling his aching wrist and cracking his knuckles. His heart pounded with a mix of awe and exhilaration.
No doubt about it, Syrons was from the old guard of the Marines, someone who'd fought tooth and nail across the seas for decades. His raw power alone was terrifying. Aeridar, as an Impact-Impact Fruit user, was supposed to be a nightmare for brawlers, his body could repel most physical force with overwhelming shockwaves. But that hammer strike? It had nearly shattered him. This guy's no joke.
Across from him, Syrons' face had darkened.
"That kid's punch... it was absurd," he thought grimly. "Even a Vice Admiral giant would've snapped their arm if they took that head-on. No wonder Sengoku wants him eliminated. A brat with that kind of strength, if he's allowed to grow unchecked..."
Syrons raised his left arm, coating it in Armament Haki. It transformed into another blackened hammer. He brought both together in a resonant clang, the weight behind them shaking the air.
"You've got guts, brat. But now I'm going all out."
"Bring it, old man," Aeridar snarled, raising his fist. His entire arm glimmered darkly with Armament Haki, from fist to shoulder, a shining armor of hardened will.
Their gazes locked, Haki flaring. Observation Haki swelled from both sides, perception sharpened to the edge of a blade.
A bird flew overhead, then vanished in a blur.
In the next instant, both fighters disappeared from sight, leaving behind only twin craters where they once stood.
BOOM. CLANG. BOOM. CLANG.
Two shadows blurred across the battlefield, trading blows at speeds the naked eye could barely follow. The air shuddered with every strike, shockwaves blooming with each impact.
The heart of the Sandstone Basin split with cracks and craters, evidence of a battlefield unable to withstand the duel between monsters.
This wasn't a simple clash.
It was the collision of a rising storm and a fading legend, each blow ringing out like a war drum across the desert.
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