One Piece: Yujiro Hanma

While thousands of people fled aimlessly, Tiberion clung tightly to the root, a monstrosity that stretched over a kilometer in length.

With his aura fully unleashed, without a single barrier containing it, and with his strength unrestrained, his imposing presence exploded in the area, generating pure waves of energy that distorted the space around him.

His face was now the living representation of wild euphoria.

His eyes began to lose their color, turning completely white, flashing with a rare light. His hair, caught in the current of energy emanating from his body, rose as if each strand had a life of its own.

His muscles, densely piled over every inch of his body, were contracted, while thick and fibrous veins bulged under his skin.

And then, with a deep exhale, he pulled.

The gigantic root, which until that moment had fought to cling to the subsoil, was finally forced to ascend, thrashing violently like the tail of a dragon, rising and then falling with all its weight and fury against the ground of Grove No. 13.

BOOM

And it was as if a meteorite had fallen.

The destructive shockwave unleashed was so terrifying that, within a massive radius, everything that existed was annihilated.

Houses, slave markets, trading posts, bars, Underworld facilities: everything was crushed.

And along with those structures, hundreds of people who failed to escape in time were pulverized.

The entire Sabaody Archipelago, at least in Grove No. 13, shook violently, as if the mangrove was about to sink.

"SAVE ME, SAVE ME! I don't want to die yet!"

"HE'S CRAZY!" shouted another, clutching his head while running in circles.

"He wants to kill us all! HE'S KILLING US ALL!!"

However, upon hearing those pitiful screams, far from being moved, Tiberion only fed on it even more.

His madness, already overflowing, was only nourished by the misery of others.

The more desperation he felt around him, the more the wild euphoria that possessed him intensified.

The rage accumulated for so long, the need of his genes to assert themselves as the supreme existence over any other being, now erupted without restraint.

But this still was not enough.

That some insignificant insects had even dared to provoke him was an insult that his soul would never forgive.

Neither Yujiro Hanma nor he, as his embodiment, could accept something like that.

His path was not one of mercy.

It was the path of absolute violence, total supremacy, incontestable dominance.

A path where everything that existed was destined to be trampled, reduced to cement his unstoppable ascent toward the summit.

Still clutching the gigantic root, he continued swinging it in every possible direction like a whip.

With each twist of his body, the root crashed against everything in its path, reducing Grove 13 to ruins within seconds.

There was no possible resistance.

There existed no building, no human being, nor any object that could withstand the impact.

In less than a minute, an area three thousand meters in radius had been destroyed.

Thousands of people died, crushed in the blink of an eye, while thousands more, either luckier or simply situated on the outskirts of the disaster, were injured but marked forever.

Meanwhile, in other areas of Grove 13, where the rumbling had not yet reached, entire crowds, still unaware of the true magnitude of the disaster, began to move.

Curiosity led them to run en masse toward the source of the tremors.

On the way, however, they encountered the few who had managed to escape.

These survivors, pale, bloodied, and with fear in their eyes, could barely articulate coherent words, but the little they managed to say was enough to change their curiosity.

"A MADMAN...!" stammered one, his face dirty, "A madman... wants to destroy all of Grove 13! He wants to kill us all!"

"..."

With those words, a wave of panic spread among the newcomers.

Some, driven by their survival instinct, chose immediate flight, spinning around and running at full speed toward the borders, seeking to reach the other Groves before being caught.

But others... others did not react in the same way.

Human nature, when faced with the abyss, does not always choose the obvious.

Seeing chaos take over the surroundings, feeling that authority and order were collapsing, many found in disorder an opportunity.

And so, as if a broken dam had unleashed not water but the purest misery of the human soul, thieves and murderers emerged, who, instead of fleeing, began to spread even more destruction.

They set fire to shops they previously couldn't loot.

They murdered those who stood in their way.

They threw themselves upon the few houses still standing, stealing, raping, destroying—not out of necessity, but because, in that anarchy, they felt for the first time the intoxication of true freedom.

"COME ON, BROTHERS! Let's take advantage of this chaos!"

"Yeah, yeah! Even if the Marines come, they'll go after that madman first!"

"Madman? That guy's my role model! HE'S MY GOD!"

"When we get stronger, we should follow his example!"

"Do whatever we want, kill if provoked, destroy everything! THAT'S what it means to be real pirates!"

"We'll—"

!

But then, the change struck like a punch from Mike Tyson.

Suddenly, without warning, a tremendous wave of spiritual pressure spread through the air like a tsunami, covering more than half of Grove 13 in an instant.

It was an impact that came neither from the earth nor from the sea.

It was a crushing will that embedded itself directly into the minds of those present, causing countless people to fall to their knees, their pupils dilated, their bodies trembling, and finally fainting one after another as if a giant hand had snuffed out their consciousness.

Tiberion, still in the midst of his rampant destruction, immediately perceived that energy.

He paused for just a moment, slightly turning his head toward the source of that pressure.

And he smiled broadly.

"So that old man..." he murmured with satisfaction, "finally decided to show up."

...

Far away, at the edge of the Grove, among the tops of the gigantic mangroves, an agile figure moved at an impressive speed for a normal human being.

Each jump propelled him hundreds of meters, gliding through the air like an arrow.

That figure, wrapped in an overwhelming presence that needed no proclamation, was Rayleigh.

The Dark King.

…

While Grove No. 13 of the Sabaody Archipelago was plunged into chaos, at Marineford, the Marine Headquarters had already received an urgent report.

Sengoku read the message carefully while standing in front of the enormous windows.

The request came from the Marines stationed at Grove No. 66 of the Sabaody Archipelago: Grove No. 13 was collapsing.

The report spoke of disturbances with an uncontrollable force of destruction sweeping through everything in its path, of thousands of dead and injured within minutes.

It was an emergency situation, and normally, in the face of events of this magnitude, protocol demanded immediate action.

Under normal circumstances, the local Marine forces had full authority to intervene without needing to ask for permission.

But this time, the uproar was so disproportionate that the Marines at Sabaody chose to stop and request direct instructions from Marineford.

They had even suggested the mobilization of elite forces, and as a last measure, the possibility of activating the Pacifistas.

However, upon finishing reading the report, Sengoku showed no concern.

On the contrary, a subtle smile appeared on his face.

"Again, it's this Tiberion Hanma..." he murmured, "Perfect."

His tone contained not even a trace of annoyance.

On the contrary, it radiated a calm satisfaction.

As long as he did not directly attack Marine bases or forces in a declared manner, he had no intention of interfering with his actions immediately.

"Ignore him... for now," he ordered, turning toward the Marines present. "Send elite Marines to restore order, clean up the place... and arrest all those responsible for the disturbances."

The truth was that he was in an excellent mood.

Just the day before, under the command of Gion and Tokikake, more than a dozen high-ranking members of the Whitebeard Pirates had been captured, including captains and commanders.

An operation that, although carefully planned, had benefited from an unexpected stroke of luck: the participation of Tiberion Hanma.

It was thanks to the chaos generated by that man that the Marines had been able to seize the opportunity and capture those high-value targets without needing to deploy major resources or sacrifice men.

And now he hoped to repeat the move.

But this time, his ambitions were even greater.

For years, he had suspected, based on incomplete reports and his own analysis, that somewhere in Sabaody a pirate from his era was hiding.

Silvers Rayleigh.

The Dark King.

The right hand of Gol D. Roger.

Despite multiple undercover investigations, they had never managed to capture him or officially confirm his presence.

But now, if the data was not wrong, if Rayleigh was indeed still living discreetly in Grove No. 13, then it would be impossible for him to remain indifferent to the massacre that Tiberion was causing.

It was impossible for that man to stay with his arms crossed.

And if Rayleigh came out of hiding to intervene, the Marines would have their perfect opportunity.

Tiberion was a monster whose strength was still difficult to measure. Even facing Rayleigh, Sengoku did not believe he would be easily defeated.

And if both fought, if they weakened each other, then Marineford could act and take advantage once again.

"Yes, Fleet Admiral!" responded the Marine responsible for Sabaody.

Immediately, more than a thousand elite Marines were mobilized, forming special units that were deployed toward the devastated Grove No. 13, ready to act under new orders.

But Sengoku was not satisfied with that.

"…"

He reflected for a few more seconds, stroking his beard, and finally made a bolder decision.

He directly ordered Borsalino, Admiral Kizaru, to personally move to the Archipelago.

Not to fight seriously, but to observe, assess, and if the opportunity arose, quietly capture Rayleigh.

…

Borsalino, informed of the situation and the instructions, accepted without further question.

He knew that this Tiberion Hanma was no minor threat.

After all, he had managed to defeat the captains and commanders of Whitebeard all by himself.

"He must be truly terrifying…" he murmured as he adjusted his Marine cape over his shoulders.

And so, without urgency, he departed toward Grove No. 13.

…

While Grove No. 13 still trembled, Tiberion kept his gaze fixed on a specific point.

And it was at that moment that Rayleigh finally appeared.

The old man walked without hurry, but his mere presence seemed to stop time around him.

His iconic curly mane, his beard, and all the hair on his face gleamed like silver under the sun.

His glasses, slightly lowered over the bridge of his nose, partially concealed his gaze.

A deep, old vertical scar cut through his right eye.

Rayleigh, the Dark King.

The vice-captain of Roger's Pirates.

The man who once sailed the seas alongside the Pirate King.

The strategist, the living symbol of an era that, though past, would never be forgotten.

His mere presence commanded respect, and it was with that silent authority that, without raising his voice, he spoke to Tiberion.

"I suppose you started this massacre to protect that mermaid…" he said in a slow, almost tired tone, as if lamenting that things had come this far.

Then he paused briefly, surveying the devastation around him, now resembling a desolate landscape.

"However," he continued with the same calm, but now sharply, "you have killed enough people. I ask you to stop immediately… otherwise, I will be forced to intervene."

And who was Rayleigh, really?

There was no need to ask. His reputation was as vast as the seas he once sailed.

And although now he carried the calm air of a retired old man, any man with knowledge would know that behind that serenity hid incredible power.

Rayleigh did not need to ask to understand what had happened.

With a single glance at the scene, knowing the kind of scum that usually inhabited this Grove, he could mentally reconstruct the sequence of events.

It was evident that some bastards, upon seeing a mermaid of Shirahoshi's extraordinary size and beauty, had been unable to resist their greed.

Surely, a group of them had tried to seize her by force.

It would not have been the first time, nor would it be the last. Only this time, they ran into an immovable wall.

A wall that, far from yielding, responded with such devastating fury that it annihilated everything around it without remorse.

And he, although he understood the circumstances, could not ignore the cost of that reaction.

He could not allow this Grove to collapse.

But Tiberion did not share that perspective.

His gaze was serious, overflowing with a rage that had not cooled in the slightest.

"…"

Leaping over the remains of the gigantic root he had used, he landed firmly with a dry thud, staring at Rayleigh with a contemptuous smile drawn across his hardened face.

"You?" he said mockingly, "What the hell makes you think you have the right to stop me?"

He walked toward him, without haste, but with such a crushing presence that each of his steps seemed to weigh tons.

He couldn't stand those arrogant types who believed they had the right to dictate who should act and who should stay silent, who deserved to live and who deserved to die.

Rayleigh, in his mind, represented exactly that at this moment.

An old man coming to pose as a judge after everything had already happened.

Where was he when the scum of Sabaody attacked?

Where was this useless old man when Shirahoshi was threatened?

Had he come down from his hiding place to prevent the horror from unfolding?

NO!

He hadn't saved anyone. He hadn't stopped them from trying to steal, humiliate, or kill.

And now, he appeared with the pretense of telling him to stop.

With that hypocrisy he so despised.

He didn't need anyone to come and lecture him, nor did he need to ask for permission.

If he hadn't been so strong, if he hadn't crushed those parasites with his own hands, he and Shirahoshi would be dead—or worse.

Did Rayleigh really believe he could appear as a belated savior and talk to him about stopping?

About morality?

About limits?

"…"

Upon hearing Tiberion's response, Rayleigh's face began to change.

His tired expression gradually faded, replaced by a deadly sharpness.

________

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