Eternal winter: the reawakened lost winter emperor (one piece dungeon)

Jinx chuckled darkly, lounging atop the frost-covered ruins of the Marine base, tail flicking lazily as black fur rippled across his monstrous fox form. His multiple glowing eyes blinked in eerie rhythm, and his voice, now deeper and tinged with refined elegance, rang across the battlefield like a haunting melody.

"Heh heh heh… If it ain't my Devil Fruit's child wielder—Aokiji. I must say, it's an honor to meet you face to face," Jinx purred, stretching like a contented cat and casually licking his magenta-tipped paw. "Still working for the Marines, though… but I suppose it won't be long before you leave them behind. After this is over, that is."

The words echoed strangely—half statement, half prophecy.

Aokiji's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

The top brass, however, reacted instantly.

Jinx's casual remark sent a silent shock through the upper ranks of the Marines, especially those who knew how closely Aokiji had already been toeing the line of desertion. The implications in Jinx's words were too sharp, too specific—and it caught the attention of one man in particular.

With a blur of speed, Garp used Soru, appearing twenty meters in front of Jinx, standing tall and unmoving despite the frigid aura that radiated from the black ice below.

His pure aura flared like a sun trying to resist a polar night, causing the corrupted frost at his feet to crack and hiss, retreating slightly under the pressure.

"Your name… is Jinx, if I'm not mistaken," Garp said, his arms crossed tightly across his broad chest, expression hard as stone.

Jinx's many eyes shifted, blinking toward the Marine Hero, and the monstrous fox offered a sharp-toothed grin.

"Correct," he replied smoothly. "Monkey D. Garp, hero of the Marines. It truly is an honor to finally meet you face to face. I've watched you. Watched all of you, really. But I must admit—your grandson was by far the most entertaining to observe."

The air turned heavy.

Garp's fists clenched, and the cracking of the ice intensified, spiderweb fractures racing outward as his aura pulsed with rising fury. Even the bystanders—seasoned Vice Admirals and hardened commanders—instinctively took a step back.

Jinx's words had been calculated.

Too personal.

Too knowing.

And above all, too casual.

From the nearby rubble, Sengoku appeared in a flash, also using Soru, materializing beside Garp and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The gesture was meant to calm him, and though it worked slightly, Garp's jaw remained tight, his teeth grinding audibly.

"What do you mean, you've been watching us?" Sengoku demanded, his voice sharp. "Are you a spy for Kaido? Or Big Mom? Maybe a pawn of the Revolutionaries?"

But even as he spoke, he and Garp noticed two disturbing things:

First—Jinx had specifically named Luffy, Garp's grandson, as a point of interest.

Second—the black ice below their feet had begun regenerating, creeping forward in slow, elegant waves, reknitting itself like living frost. The temperature dropped sharply, and both men had to subtly engage Six Styles Inner Energy Flow just to maintain their body heat.

But Jinx, seated and relaxed in his monstrous form, wasn't even shivering.

Suddenly, something flickered in front of his eyes—something only he could see.

[NEW QUEST: Convince 5 Legends to Enter the Dungeon]

Requirements: Convince five legends from Roger's or Shanks' era to enter your dungeon realm.

Reward:

Title: Dungeon Master

5 Golden Apples — Restore user to their youth and prime, grant +30 years of life.

3 Red Apples — Fully heal any injury or illness.

3 Random Skills, one originating from the user's multiversal powers.

"Oooh," Jinx whispered internally, eyes flickering with amusement. "Now this is interesting…"

His mind wandered briefly, processing.

"So, it's tied to my Devil Fruit from One Piece, my Sharingan from Naruto, and the Shrine-based curse techniques from Jujutsu Kaisen. That narrows it… not at all. But it does tell me what tier of chaos to expect."

He looked back at Sengoku and Garp, who were still waiting for a real answer.

And so, with a slow, theatrical bow of his monstrous head, Jinx spoke again, his voice echoing like a prophet of frost.

"Hahahaha… I have no business with your petty factions. But out of respect, I'll answer you plainly. You see… I awoke in a lab with no memory of who I was before. But I was not idle. I observed. I studied. And eventually, I remembered one thing—the Multiverse."

A heavy silence settled, filled only by the cracking ice and the distant war cries beyond the walls.

"I know you don't know what that word means," Jinx continued, "so I'll explain—free of charge. The Multiverse is an infinite web of timelines, born from every choice ever made… or not made. Every 'what if.' Every path diverged. There is a timeline where Luffy became a Marine, one where the World Government never existed, one where God Valley ended differently, and one… where Gol D. Roger never died. All of them are real. All of them are branches. And I... am one who walks between them."

The words sent a ripple through the battlefield—not just of confusion, but existential dread.

Veterans who had seen war, commanders who had faced gods, suddenly felt small.

What Jinx offered was a terrifying mirror: the idea that somewhere out there, they had succeeded where they had failed, or worse—failed where they had succeeded. That loved ones lost could be alive in another world. That all their sacrifice was just one branch in an infinite sea of possibilities.

Some clenched their teeth. Others looked downward, shaken.

And then Whitebeard, who had taken the time to steady himself, approached slowly, his massive bisento acting as a cane. He moved closer, eyes narrowed with focus despite the pain in his bones.

"And what…" he rumbled, voice like rolling thunder, "are the exceptions?"

The battlefield went still again, and all eyes turned to Jinx.

Because whatever he said next…

Could change everything.

Jinx let out a low, melodic laugh, the kind that echoed with far too much knowledge—and far too little concern.

"Hahaha… I expected Sengoku to be the one to ask me this," he said, voice laced with amusement, "but it just goes to show the sea still teaches, doesn't it, Whitebeard?"

His massive fox form shifted slightly, settling into a more relaxed position. He laid his monstrous head down across his magenta-tinted paws, several of his many eyes still open and watching. His tails flicked slowly behind him, cracking frost across the earth wherever they passed.

"You're right. There are exceptions."

The battlefield was silent now, each soldier, pirate, and commander frozen—waiting, straining to hear his next words.

"They're called Canon Events."

The way he said it made it feel final—as if the words themselves weighed something.

"Canon Events are moments in time that are fixed. They'll happen in every timeline, every universe—just not always to the same people or in the same way. You could live a hundred lifetimes trying to find the differences, but the truth is painfully simple: there will always be one thing, or maybe several, that stay the same. These are the moments you can't avoid. And if you try to break them?"

Jinx's tails curled slightly, the giant eye on his tail opening and staring blankly toward the sky.

"You don't prevent it—you just speed it up."

A visible shiver passed through the Vice Admirals. Even those without a full grasp of what he meant felt the wrongness of it in their bones.

"Take one example—Luffy becoming a pirate. Doesn't matter what comes before it. Doesn't matter if he's raised by Garp, trained in the mountains, or even joins the Marines. Something will always happen—always—that forces him to choose freedom. And no matter what, he sets out before the age of nineteen. That's a fixed point."

Jinx lifted a paw and tapped his chin in a mock-pondering gesture, a few of his many eyes closing thoughtfully.

"Hmm… what's another one…"

He paused—then grinned.

"Ah, yes. This war."

That alone sent a ripple of unease through the battlefield.

"Whether Whitebeard dies or not is a toss of the coin, I'll admit. But in seven out of ten timelines, he does. Why? Because he chooses to. He chooses to die on his own terms. That, too, is part of the Canon."

The words landed heavily, but Jinx wasn't finished.

"And no matter which version plays out, the Elders force Sengoku into retirement. And then… comes the conflict for Fleet Admiral. Aokiji versus Akainu. Two men, two philosophies. One led by justice. The other by a lack of it."

His eyes narrowed. His voice dropped.

"Aokiji loses. Not because he's weaker, but because his morals won't let him go far enough. Akainu wins—barely. And what follows?"

He raised his massive paw—and slammed it into the earth.

The ground exploded beneath it.

The floor of Marineford caved in, the foundation fracturing violently.

From the wreckage, amid smoke and stone and silence, a new group emerged.

Blackbeard stood there, grinning like a devil, flanked by his Impel Down crew, having crept beneath the battlefield like a snake in the dark. The sight of him sent chills through the spines of every Marine present.

Jinx continued, his voice now low and almost… solemn.

"Two years later, in most timelines, comes the next canon event: Aokiji versus Garp."

Everyone turned to Aokiji.

"The old man," Jinx said, "fights to stop you. And because of his fondness for you, because of his age, because of the years and wounds he's carried—you win. Or rather… you capture him."

The words shattered the battlefield.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

And then, he dropped to his knees.

"N-no…" he whispered. "I… I become a pirate… and I… I capture Sensei? I—this can't be…"

He grabbed at his head, fingers digging into his scalp, gasping for breath as the truth clawed at his sanity.

"This—this isn't right!"

His body shook, and for a moment, the air around him dropped even colder, as if his very will to regulate the cold had faltered.

"Aokiji!" Jaylen rushed forward, gripping his brother's shoulders. "Snap out of it!"

Sengoku stepped in next, his voice tense but firm.

"Kuzan! This isn't the future. He's just trying to confuse you!"

Garp, too, knelt beside him. He said nothing at first—he just placed his hand on Aokiji's back, grounding him.

Borsalino tilted his head, uncharacteristically serious, his usual aloofness absent.

Even surrounded by comrades, Aokiji shook, eyes wide, haunted by a future he didn't know he feared—until now.

But the chaos wasn't over.

From above, Marco, still battered and bleeding, raised his voice in a shout that cracked like thunder.

"You're lying!" he roared. "Whitebeard doesn't die here! Not now! Not ever! You're trying to break us apart with your sick prophecies!"

His wings flared wide, flames igniting.

But Jinx only laughed—soft, calm, chilling.

The monstrous fox known as Jinx tilted his massive head slightly, lips curling into a sharp, amused smile as the earth crackled beneath his magenta-tipped paws. His many eyes shimmered with amusement, cold intelligence glinting behind their unnatural depths.

"Oh? Now I'd love for you to prove me wrong," he purred, his voice carrying an elegant menace. "But I've got better things to do today than watch you all crumble. So here's a deal—I'll help you save Whitebeard…"

He paused, rising slowly to all fours. That simple motion sent a ripple of tension across the battlefield like a dropped stone in still water.

Every major power reacted immediately.

Borsalino shifted, particles of light already forming around him as he prepared a blinding barrage.

Akainu growled, his right arm erupting into molten magma, steam hissing off the stone beneath his feet.

Garp's fists clenched, veins bulging as he took a single step forward, teeth grit tight.

Sengoku exhaled slowly and allowed his body to glow—his golden Buddha form beginning to take shape, radiating divine pressure.

The Whitebeard Pirates, despite their wounds, raised their fists and weapons with renewed fire.

Even Whitebeard himself, towering and still bleeding, fixed his gaze on Jinx, jaw set and deadly serious.

The Seven Warlords stiffened—Mihawk calmly drawing his blade, Doflamingo laughing under his breath with a twitch in his fingers, Boa Hancock scowling but intrigued.

And yet Jinx didn't flinch. If anything, he basked in the fear, savoring the weight of his words as they slid across the air like a guillotine.

"Bring me Gecko Moria—barely alive is fine. And stop Portgas D. Ace before he gets himself killed…" he said, voice soft, yet deafening. "Do that… and I'll get you all out of here alive. And I'll cure your Pops."

The second the words left his muzzle, the battlefield exploded into violence.

"Hell no!" Akainu roared.

He launched a massive magma fist, the ground beneath him splitting as the attack rocketed forward.

"Light Barrage!" Borsalino's voice rang out as dozens of beams of golden energy shot toward Jinx.

But neither attack landed.

CLANG.

Jozu, diamond-coated and blazing with fury, intercepted Akainu's magma punch, the impact throwing molten sparks across the stone as he dug his heels into the ground.

"You're not touching him!" Jozu barked, straining under the molten weight.

Meanwhile, Whitebeard himself appeared in front of the light beams, bisento in hand, and split the air with a quake punch, disrupting the very particles Borsalino used.

"I don't like this," Whitebeard muttered. "But if he's telling the truth…"

Marco flared his phoenix wings, blue fire dancing behind him, and soared across the battlefield toward Borsalino, intercepting him midair with a searing kick. Sparks of gold and fire lit the sky as they clashed above the chaos.

"We'll help," Marco shouted. "But you better keep your damn word, monster!"

Vista and Jozu dove into battle beside Marco, taking on Akainu together. But the Admiral was pure wrath incarnate—his mere presence radiated blistering heat, scalding skin and warping metal. Still, they fought on, blades flashing, sparks flying, fire and steel crashing into molten fury.

Amid the chaos, a rubbery shape shot forward from the sky.

"Gomu Gomu no… Rocket!"

Luffy flew through the air—and landed right on Jinx's back, bouncing slightly as he crouched down. Ace followed a moment later, grinning through blood and bruises.

"Mind if we catch a ride?" Ace asked, already cracking his knuckles.

Jinx blinked lazily and grinned.

"As long as you don't mind fetching Moria for me."

"Gecko Moria?" Luffy tilted his head. "That big shadow guy? Why him?"

"Oh, nothing special. He just has something i want," Jinx said with a voice like silk. Then he paused, his tone growing softer, almost nostalgic. 

Luffy blinked, looking up from between Jinx's ears.

"What you said earlier… about me always becoming a pirate. Is it true?" he asked, voice tinged with innocence, but curiosity burned in his eyes.

Jinx chuckled softly, a strange warmth beneath the madness.

"Yes. Absolutely. I've only watched a dozen or so timelines firsthand, but in every single one, you always chose the sea. Sometimes faster. Sometimes slower. But always before nineteen. Always chasing freedom. Always defying fate."

Luffy blinked again, wide-eyed.

"Heh… cool," he said simply, a grin stretching across his face.

But Jinx wasn't done.

"In fact…" he continued, shifting his gaze toward the gathering Admirals and warlords, "I've watched long enough to know this: you have more potential than Roger ever did. Maybe even more than Joy Boy himself."

That statement rang out like a cannon.

The Marines who overheard that—especially the top brass—froze.

Sengoku's eyes narrowed. Garp's fists clenched. Even Borsalino, normally unbothered, flinched mid-combat. Akainu's scowl deepened, and he launched another wave of magma just to keep the truth from settling too deep.

They didn't say it aloud, but the thought burned into their minds like fire:

If that's true… we cannot afford to let him live unchecked.

Jinx's many eyes blinked all at once as he gazed across the battlefield.

"This world... this war... it's only one timeline. One story. But the next chapter? That's up to him."

Jinx's massive form crouched low, muscles rippling beneath his fur as Ace and Luffy stood tall atop his back, wind tearing at their clothes and flames crackling behind them. The battlefield was roaring with chaos below—Marines clashing with pirates, Admirals launching island-level attacks, and the very earth quaking from the ongoing war.

Then—

"Oi, Luffy!" Ace called out, fire sparking from his fingertips as he scanned the crumbling ruins ahead. "I see him—three levels down! Gecko Moria!"

Luffy's eyes lit up with excitement and a healthy dose of rage. "That bastard from Thriller Bark!"

Jinx lowered his body. "I'll launch you two. Don't miss."

"Gomu Gomu no…"

"Hiken!"

Flame and rubber blurred into motion as Jinx flexed his hind legs and launched them forward, the sheer force of the jump shattering the stone roof beneath him.

Ace soared like a comet, a trail of fire behind him. Luffy, arms stretched wide, followed like a slingshot from hell. They tore through the smoke-filled air, headed straight toward a broken section of the central Marine stronghold—where Gecko Moria was lurking like a bloated spider in a shattered web.

Below them, Gecko Moria loomed over a pile of unconscious pirates, his hulking form stitched with shadows and arrogance.

"Kishishishi… I've waited long enough to collect more bodies," Moria muttered. "This war's full of corpses-to-be."

But he didn't finish his sentence.

Ace slammed into the ground in front of him, flames bursting outward and engulfing several of Moria's zombie minions in an instant. Luffy landed behind him with a thunderous impact, cracking the pavement and scattering debris.

"MORIA!!!" Luffy shouted. "We're taking you with us!"

"And if you don't cooperate…" Ace cracked his knuckles, flames licking his shoulders. "We'll beat you into pieces first."

Moria's eyes widened.

"You brats again?! I already had to deal with you once, Straw Hat!"

He lashed out, sending a wave of shadowy tendrils surging forward like serpents.

Luffy leapt into the air, twisting midflight.

"Gomu Gomu no… Jet Gatling!"

His fists blurred, hammering into the shadow tendrils and blasting them apart, while Ace dashed around the attack in a wide arc, flame flaring in his wake.

"Hiken!"

A wall of fire erupted toward Moria, forcing the warlord to leap back and command his remaining zombies forward. Dozens of twisted corpses—some of them former pirates, others horrifying marine prototypes—swarmed toward the brothers.

"He's hiding behind them," Ace growled. "Coward."

"Then we'll clear the path!"

Luffy grinned and charged forward, stretching both arms behind him.

"Gomu Gomu no… Bazooka!"

Two massive fists blasted through the front line of zombies, sending broken bodies flying like rag dolls. Ace followed close behind, sliding under a falling column and igniting the ground beneath him.

"Enkai: Hibashira!" (Flame Commandment: Fire Pillar!)

Flames erupted beneath the horde, exploding upward in a pillar of scorching death that wiped out a chunk of Moria's army.

But Moria had already vanished into the shadows.

"Shadow's Asgard!" his voice echoed from above.

A titanic mass of shadows condensed into his body, inflating him into a grotesque giant. His laughter was thunderous, his teeth jagged and wide.

"You think you can beat me? I've got hundreds of shadows now!"

He brought his foot down to crush them both—but Luffy dashed forward, faster than expected.

"Gomu Gomu no… Elephant Gun!"

His fist expanded and turned jet-black with Haki as it collided with Moria's descending foot—a shockwave rippled out, and the shadow giant stumbled.

Ace used the opening.

"Jujikaen!" (Crossfire Flame Slash!)

He unleashed a wave of flame shaped like a cross, slicing through the shadows and forcing Moria to release several souls.

The giant form shrunk, and Moria staggered back, coughing.

"This… this isn't how it was supposed to go!"

"It never is with us!" Luffy shouted.

Moria roared and summoned Doppelman, his shadow clone, to strike from behind.

But Luffy's Haki kicked in.

"I see you!"

He spun around and landed a Haki-infused kick, smashing Doppelman into smoke.

Moria tried to retreat—fading into shadow—but Ace was faster.

"End of the line."

Ace threw a fire-laced punch that landed square in Moria's chest, setting his cloak ablaze.

Luffy launched himself forward with a furious grin.

"Gomu Gomu no… Red Roc!"

A massive Haki-flaming punch smashed Moria into the earth, blowing apart the last of his defenses.

The crater cracked deep into the ruins, and Moria's body lay broken and smoking.

He groaned, barely conscious. "You… you monsters…"

"Guess that means we win," Ace said, grinning.

"He's still breathing," Luffy confirmed. "Let's take him to Jinx."

As they stood over the defeated Warlord, smoke swirling and the battle still raging in the distance, Luffy glanced up toward the frozen skyline.

"Hey, Ace?"

"Yeah?"

"You think what Jinx said about me… having more potential than Roger… you think that's real?"

Ace looked at him, and for a moment, his eyes softened. A memory passed through his mind—of their childhood, their dreams, their burdens.

"Yeah. I do," Ace said simply. "More than any of us ever did."

And with that, the brothers hoisted the fallen Moria between them and began the journey back through the burning warzone—shoulder to shoulder, fire and rubber, walking toward a future no one could predict.

At the same time, as Ace and Luffy clashed with Moria amidst fire and shadow, Jinx lounged atop a half-shattered watchtower, his massive fox form curled like a sleeping god above the war-torn battlefield. Snowflakes of black frost drifted lazily from his fur, the very air around him pulsing with a cold so deep it silenced sound.

And yet, he was not alone.

A presence had approached—silent, steady, and sharp.

Dracule Mihawk stood at the edge of the broken platform, the dying light of the war dancing across the polished curve of his black blade, Yoru. His golden hawk eyes studied the massive fox form before him, unblinking.

"You wield a sword," Mihawk said plainly.

It wasn't a question. It was a fact, drawn from instinct and sharpened perception.

Jinx turned one of his many eyes toward him, the pupil dilating with amusement.

"I wield two, actually. But yes... you're not wrong."

Mihawk took a slow step forward, Yoru's point resting lightly on the ground behind him.

"Then I have a request. A duel. Swordsman to swordsman. I can feel it in you... That same heat. The edge of something deadly."

Jinx didn't respond immediately. Instead, he yawned—an exaggerated gesture made strangely elegant by his massive, otherworldly form—and rolled onto his haunches.

"A duel? Hmmm. I figured you'd ask that eventually, Falcon Eyes." He grinned, sharp and knowing. "But before we play steel-on-steel, I have a proposition."

Mihawk narrowed his eyes but didn't raise Yoru. "I'm listening."

Jinx stretched like a lounging cat, then tilted his head toward his back with a smirk.

"Hop on. I'd rather not talk in earshot of that walking volcano and his loud friends."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, without hesitation, Mihawk sheathed Yoru and leapt onto Jinx's back, landing lightly between two arcs of snowy fur. He didn't speak—didn't need to. The gesture alone said he was willing to see where this went.

Jinx chuckled to himself as he leapt from the tower and glided through the cold wind like a silent storm.

"Great… I've officially become a giant, demon fox-shaped Uber."

They crossed the ruins of Marineford in mere moments, soaring beyond the reach of cannon blasts, Admiral tempests, and war cries. When Jinx landed in a clearing of frozen wreckage—far from the noise—Mihawk leapt down in a single graceful motion, landing with the silence of a whisper.

He turned, cloak fluttering in the icy wind. "Now... continue."

Jinx reverted to his humanoid form in a shimmer of frost and mist—cloaked in a black coat, his fox mask grinning, the handle of Shugoshiryō visible behind his shoulder.

"You want to grow stronger, Mihawk?" Jinx said, folding his arms. "You crave it—not just stronger in technique, but in experience. The thrill of battle. Not domination. Not one-sided slaughter. True competition. You want to feel that push again, like you did when Shanks still challenged you."

Mihawk's eyes didn't waver. But they narrowed, just slightly.

"Go on."

Jinx stepped closer, boots crunching frost.

"Join me," he said simply. "Not as a servant. Not as an ally. Just as a... sword that thirsts for worthy fights."

He paused, then grinned beneath the mask.

"You'll duel legends you've never heard of. Cut through blades that sing and bleed. There are beings in this world—and others—who can match you blow for blow, spirit for spirit."

Mihawk raised a brow. "You speak as if you walk through multiple realities."

"I don't walk," Jinx replied. "I dance through them."

For the first time in the conversation, something flickered behind Mihawk's stoic expression—curiosity. And perhaps... hunger.

Jinx stepped back and extended a hand toward the field.

"We'll duel. Right now, if you like. But once we're done... I want your answer."

"What's in it for you?" Mihawk asked, resting a hand on Yoru again.

"A good fight," Jinx said, eyes glowing. "And the pleasure of knowing that I gave the world's greatest swordsman something to strive for again."

The wind howled between them. Ice cracked at their feet. Far off, war still raged.

And in that silent field, steel would soon sing.

The air was still—unnaturally so.

Mihawk stood, sword in hand, as if sculpted from shadow and steel. His stance was clean. No wasted motion. No expression of emotion. Just absolute, serene lethality.

Across from him, Jinx cracked his neck once, then stepped forward and slowly drew Shugoshiryō, the black-bladed katana pulsing faintly with the cold presence of the void.

This is it. Pure swordsmanship. No tricks. No shadows. Just will and steel.

Mihawk raised Yoru with a single hand and spoke without a hint of arrogance.

"Shall we?"

Jinx tilted his head, mask grinning wide.

"Let's dance."

And then they moved.

The first clash was like thunder given form—Shugoshiryō met Yoru in a flash of cold light and dark steel. Neither blade yielded, but the shockwave shattered the frozen earth beneath them. The duel began in earnest, a flurry of precise cuts, angled deflections, and careful footwork. No wasted movements. No showmanship. Just the kind of fight that swordsmen waited lifetimes to have.

Jinx, for all his otherworldly power, found himself sweating quickly. Mihawk's sword moved like a whisper, a viper disguised as silk. Every strike threatened to end the fight then and there. Every defense he made was measured by fractions of an inch.

He's fast, Jinx thought, sliding backward after narrowly dodging a horizontal slash. But he's not just fast. He's clean. Efficient. Elegant.

He leapt back, breathing heavier than expected.

No... I need more control. More precision. If this is how the best fights, I need to meet him at his peak.

He drew a breath—then another.

Long. Focused. Deep into his lungs. The kind of breath that draws the spirit into the blood and the blood into the blade.

Total Concentration Breathing... My body should be able to handle it. I was remade for this.

Jinx's aura shifted. His breathing became rhythmic, deliberate—lungs expanding and contracting in a steady tempo. Cold mist flowed from his lips, controlled and potent.

"Let's see if this helps…" he whispered.

Then he moved again, this time with a new rhythm.

His feet no longer simply stepped—they glided, brushing the ground with eerie grace. His strikes now came in curved arcs, soft yet unpredictable, drawing paths of light through the air.

"Moon Breathing… First Form."

He slashed upward with an arcing, spiraling motion—but Mihawk read it instantly.

CLANG!

Yoru met Shugoshiryō and twisted, and Jinx was forced back, off balance. A flick of Mihawk's wrist followed—and steel kissed flesh.

A shallow gash appeared across Jinx's shoulder, dark blood trickling into the snow.

"Tch—guess I'm not a natural."

Mihawk didn't follow up. He simply watched, silently evaluating.

Jinx exhaled sharply, stabilizing his breathing. He didn't retreat. Instead, he advanced again, weaving through slashes like a specter. His footwork adapted. His strikes became less forced, more fluid.

"Moon Breathing… Third Form."

A flurry of sweeping arcs, shifting like phases of the moon—unpredictable and erratic.

This time, Mihawk had to move his feet. His brow furrowed slightly as Jinx's tempo changed again, the style growing more refined with each pass.

Then a translucent blue panel flickered in front of Jinx's vision:

[System Update]

– Skill Unlocked: Moon Breathing – Grade (C)

– Skill Upgraded: Total Concentration Breathing – Grade (B)

Jinx smirked beneath his mask.

We're getting somewhere.

The next exchange was lightning and moonlight colliding. Yoru struck with power and finality. Shugoshiryō answered with curve and silence. Sparks danced in the frozen air.

Mihawk pushed forward, delivering three sharp strikes—left, center, right—which Jinx deflected with the barest precision, his body now syncing with the breathing style pulsing in his chest.

Inhale. Exhale. Slice. Flow.

They circled.

A breath.

Then they clashed again.

This time Jinx spun mid-strike, Shugoshiryō humming as it whipped around in a crescent slash. Mihawk blocked it, but his heels slid back a fraction.

That was the first time in the duel he moved.

And for the first time, he smiled.

Only slightly.

"You're adapting."

"Takes me a sec," Jinx replied. "But once I find the rhythm, I don't let go."

Their final clash came not in a storm of attacks, but a single, perfectly-timed exchange.

Jinx stepped in, Moon Breathing Fifth Form—a spinning, low cut aimed at Mihawk's side.

Mihawk responded in kind—a precise vertical counter, timed to the heartbeat.

Steel met steel.

The pressure cracked the earth.

Both fighters froze… then slowly backed away, nodding in mutual recognition.

Jinx was breathing heavily, sweat running down his brow. Mihawk's cloak fluttered, a single thread cut loose from his collar.

"I see now," Mihawk said calmly. "You're not a swordsman by trade… but you are a warrior of instinct. And instinct sharpens faster than tradition."

Jinx chuckled, wiping blood from his shoulder. "So? Was I worth the swing?"

Mihawk slid Yoru back onto his back.

"I'll join you," he said.

Jinx blinked.

"...That easy?"

Mihawk turned, walking toward the edge of the ice. "I've waited decades for a fight that made my blade feel alive again."

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"Next time... I won't hold back."

Jinx grinned beneath his mask.

"Next time, I won't need to breathe."

Just as the cold silence settled after my duel with Mihawk, a faint chime echoed in my head, followed by the sudden flicker of translucent text across my vision.

[Hidden Quest Completed – "Test of the Old Guard"]

Objective: Survive a battle against a pirate or marine from Shanks' era

Bonus Objective: Survive a clash with Shanks' direct rival

(Overriding Reward Triggered...)

...Override Complete.

Reward Granted:

Kokushibo's Flesh Sword Mode Card

Sword Awakening Card

Breathing Upgrade Card

Fairy Tail Character Card

Epic Bow Card

I blinked.

Kokushibo's blade? Moon breathing enhancement I expected... but what the hell is with the Fairy Tail character and a bow?

Before I could puzzle it out, a sharp instinct tickled the back of my skull—and I tilted my head without thinking.

CRACK!

A bullet whizzed past, so close I felt the wind off it graze my cheek. I turned sharply, eyes narrowing, and saw the unmistakable silhouette of Van Augur, rifle still raised and smoking.

Flanking him were Jesus Burgess, all hulking muscle and arrogance, and of course, the dark vortex of doom himself—Marshall D. Teach, Blackbeard, grinning with cruel anticipation, flanked by Pizarro, his twisted limbs moving with mechanical weight.

"Tch... vultures."

Without another word, I raised two fingers, channeling the storm within. My fingers snapped outward like a conductor's baton.

BOOM.

A torrent of black and magenta lightning erupted forward, snarling like a feral god. Blackbeard reacted fast, his hand rising and swallowing the energy in a vortex of blackness—Yami Yami no Mi at full churn. But it wasn't perfect. The lightning licked past the edges of his defense, arcing across his body with a punishing crackle.

"GRAAAAHHH!" Teach screamed, thrashing and rolling in the dirt like a man on fire, steam and smoke rising from his scorched coat.

Van Augur steadied his aim to finish the job—but I slashed Shugoshiryō, releasing a wide, elegant wave of frost-laced steel energy. A cold crescent screamed through the battlefield.

Pizarro dove to the side with surprising agility for a freak of his size, while Van Augur vanished in a blink with his warp-warp reflexes—but not fast enough to completely escape the grazing freeze that turned the edge of his coat brittle with frost.

And Blackbeard?

He tumbled.

Tumbled hard.

Crashing into a crater of splintered rubble and ice, he groaned... until a vast, looming shadow fell over him.

He looked up—

—and froze.

A massive figure stood above him, radiating a cold fury like an ancient glacier ready to break. The hulking form of Edward Newgate—Whitebeard himself—stood with bisento in hand, each breath slow, controlled, and lethal.

His eyes, so often calm and fatherly, were now like thunderclouds before a tsunami. Deadly. Focused. Unforgiving.

"Teach…" Whitebeard's voice rumbled, low and dark as cracking earth. "You've got a lot of nerve showing your face before me."

Blackbeard choked on his breath.

"...P-Pops—!"

Whitebeard didn't answer.

He just stepped forward, bisento dragging against the stone and cutting a deep scar into the battlefield, as if marking Blackbeard's grave with each step.

From above, I narrowed my eyes, gripping Shugoshiryō tighter as I watched.

This just got interesting.

And somewhere inside me, the system whispered again, soft and cold:

[New Chain Quest Unlocked – "Destinies Collide"]

Part 1: Witness Whitebeard's Final Judgment

Bonus: Assist or interfere in Teach's fate (Choice will influence future timeline branches)

Now that's what I'm talkin' about...

Blackbeard scrambled backward, his fingers digging into frost-laced rubble, eyes wild with disbelief. The massive form of Whitebeard loomed above him, casting a shadow that swallowed the battlefield.

"Pops, wait!" Teach croaked, pain and desperation mixing in his voice. "It was all part of the plan, ya see?! For the sake of the new age!"

Whitebeard said nothing.

His eyes were like glaciers—frozen, ancient, and merciless.

The old titan's bisento scraped against the ground as he raised it with one hand, his other cocked back and trembling with raw power.

CRACK.

The air itself split with a deafening roar as he struck, releasing a Gura Gura shockwave that tore the very sky apart. A dome of pressure slammed down, caving in the land and sending everyone in a mile radius stumbling to keep their footing.

Teach barely threw up a wall of darkness, his Yami Yami no Mi dragging the quake into an unnatural black void. But even as the tremor was eaten, the force of it—its sheer intent—shook Blackbeard's bones.

Whitebeard stepped forward again.

Boom.

Another quake. This time, Teach wasn't fast enough.

The seismic blast slammed into him, sending his body crashing through a nearby stone pillar and flattening him into the ground with such force that the ice cracked for dozens of feet.

"GAAAAAAH!" Blackbeard howled, blood dripping from his mouth as his limbs flailed, trying to push himself up.

Whitebeard approached slowly, bisento dragging again.

"You took my son," Whitebeard said, voice like gravel scraped across stone. "You spat on our family… You used my name… to gain power."

He stopped above Teach's broken form.

"And now... you'll drown in what you've awakened."

He lifted the bisento one-handed again—an impossible feat for anyone but him, and brought it down—

CLANG!

A wall of darkness rose, arms of shadow forming a barrier to stop the blade.

Blackbeard roared, summoning his full power at last. His body surged with Yami Yami energy, and he countered with Liberation, blasting out all the stored destruction Whitebeard had inflicted.

The earth exploded in a column of black flame and shattered stone.

Whitebeard was flung back, landing in a kneel—but his grip on the bisento remained tight.

"Zehahahahaha!" Blackbeard laughed through blood and pain, dragging himself to his feet. His grin split wide. "I'm not the same weak man from before, Pops! This is MY ERA NOW!"

Whitebeard exhaled.

Then he punched the air again.

This time the quake ripped upward, forming a vertical rift that swallowed the sky, a tower of destruction that tore through clouds, masts, and minds alike. Blackbeard tried to absorb it—he really did—but his body buckled under the scale of it.

Bones cracked. Organs shifted. Blood sprayed.

And yet... he endured.

Breathing heavy, Blackbeard thrust out his hand, and a new darkness pooled around him—denser than before.

"Black Hole."

The world around him compressed, the battlefield trembling under the weight of unnatural gravity. Even Whitebeard's massive frame slowed.

Then Blackbeard charged.

Fist to fist.

Father against fallen son.

Their punches collided—Gura Gura versus Yami Yami—and the world broke for just a moment.

The sea exploded outward. The ice cracked in every direction. A massive chasm split between them, and both men staggered back.

Whitebeard, chest heaving, blood running from his side.

Blackbeard, bleeding from the mouth, legs barely holding him.

They stared across the wreckage—two generations of titans whose wills refused to yield.

But then… Whitebeard stepped forward.

He didn't speak.

He just walked.

And Blackbeard took one trembling step back.

No… he thought, He shouldn't still be standing...

Then, from the sidelines, Marco shouted:

"NOW! END THIS!"

A blur of motion—Jinx appeared beside Whitebeard in a blink, his blade already glowing with void-imbued frost.

He didn't attack.

He offered his arm to Whitebeard.

"Let me give you one last edge," Jinx said.

Whitebeard looked down, then slowly reached forward.

As their energies touched, the blade pulsed, and Whitebeard's aura swelled—cold, silent, and righteous.

"Marshall D. Teach…" the old man said.