Legacy of the Six Paths Senjutsu

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Whitebeard truly lived up to the title of the world's strongest man. Even at his limit, he'd managed to hold off Sengoku far longer than anyone else could have. Anyone else in his condition would've crumbled long ago under Sengoku's relentless Buddha Palm.

"In your state, can you block my next attack?" Sengoku asked coldly.

"You'll know if you try it," Whitebeard replied, gripping Murakumogiri—his bisento—with both hands. He stood tall, unyielding.

With a thunderous cry—'Big Buddha Shock!!!'—Sengoku surged forward, golden light flaring. Waves of shockwave Haki rippled from his palms as he launched toward Whitebeard, his massive hands roaring with destructive force like divine judgment.

Faced with the blow, Whitebeard furrowed his brow. Cold sweat trickled down his temple as he lifted his weapon to intercept, but he knew he couldn't withstand this. His stamina was gone, the Gura Gura no Mi power out of reach, and his quake punches had failed to respond. He was moments from collapse.

Suddenly, a terrifying slash of sword aura tore across the battlefield like a meteor.

The blow collided with Sengoku's attack midair, exploding with a boom that cracked the earth and sent shockwaves pulsing in every direction. Gray smoke rose as seawater surged into the broken ground.

"Gurararara… Ayr, you came in time!" Whitebeard called out with a grin. If that slash had arrived a second later, he would've been crushed.

Ayr's timely intervention had turned the tide. The massive sword slash, infused with Conqueror's and Armament Haki, had intercepted Sengoku's strike. Calm and unhurried, Ayr approached, his armor cracked, his breath ragged, but his eyes sharp and burning with will.

"I still plan to have a drink with you after this war, Edward," Ayr said. "No way I'm letting you die here."

Whitebeard nodded. "Seems I owe you one."

"You're paying for the drinks," Ayr smirked.

"No problem."

From the smoke, Sengoku emerged, golden light dimming and fury flashing in his eyes. That slash—strong enough to stagger even his Buddha form—had come from a man who had just finished fighting both Zephyr and Kong.

"Ayr!" he shouted, fists trembling. "You shouldn't be standing! You—"

"Stand down, Sengoku," Ayr interrupted, his voice flat and resolute. "Brownie, Deros, Zhenwu, and Black Bat are dead. Keep fighting here, and death is all that awaits."

Sengoku's eyes narrowed. He hadn't heard of Zhenwu or Black Bat falling—his last intel had them clashing with Roger's crew, who were already exhausted from their battle with Rocks D. Xebec. He clenched his fists, veins rising along his temple.

"Impossible! Zhenwu and Heibat were Admirals of Headquarters! They can't be—"

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Ayr said, unwavering. He wasn't bluffing. During a brief lull, he had come across Rocks' shattered blade—and nearby, the corpses of Zhenwu and Black Bat. Roger's crew, though worn to the bone, had finished them off.

Ayr's sword arm still trembled from his last attack. He had just enough strength to repel Sengoku once—no more. Whitebeard stood beside him, bruised, cracked, his Haki flickering. Another serious clash might kill either of them.

"Lies!" Sengoku shouted, though the doubt in his eyes betrayed him. "They couldn't have lost!"

"Believe what you want. But if you test me… you'll die here," Ayr said quietly. His left eye flickered—Rinnegan energy stirring faintly, not yet fully recharged.

Sengoku seethed. He'd been so close to ending Whitebeard—so close. But with Ayr standing and the rest of the battlefield uncertain, the risk outweighed the reward. He wouldn't get another chance like this.

"Next time we meet… I will destroy you. Both of you," Sengoku growled, then turned and disappeared into the mist, vanishing into the rising waters of the Valley.

Ayr exhaled and let his shoulders drop slightly. "Let's go, Edward. This island's about to sink."

When Ayr had begun scouting the battlefield for survivors, the seawater had only reached their ankles. Now it was up to their calves. The Valley of the Gods was dying.

Whitebeard gave a short nod. No words were needed.

They made their way toward the center of the battlefield.

What greeted them was nothing short of apocalypse. The ground was soaked with blood, littered with corpses—Marines, pirates, and others lost to the chaos. Blood ran into the sea, turning the waters crimson.

The Rocks Pirates had lost nearly all their lower-ranking fighters. The Marines had suffered even worse.

Marshal Brownie—dead.

CPO Captain Deros—dead.

Admirals Zhenwu and Black Bat—dead.

Kong—defeated.

Ayr and Whitebeard arrived to find the others already gathered: Golden Lion Shiki, blood dripping from his sabers; Charlotte Linlin, bruised but grinning madly; Kaido, panting, steam rising from fresh wounds. John, Silver Axe, and Ochoku stood nearby, silent and bloodied.

The last surviving elites of the Rocks Pirates.

For what might be the final time, they had all gathered in the heart of the dying Valley.

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