"Hahahahaha!" Tiberion laughed loudly. "Your sword seems pretty average."
It was a direct provocation—simple, yet filled with mockery. It wasn't just a criticism; it was a direct blow to Vista's pride, to his path as a swordsman.
"You…!" Vista gritted his teeth, his face twisting with rage. A vein popped on his forehead, his heart pounding wildly.
That comment, that damned smile that came with it, felt like a punch to the soul. As if all his effort—decades of perfecting the sword—were nothing more than a mediocre curiosity to Tiberion.
"Hmph! Your fists are hard—how impressive!" he growled. "But this attack of mine… isn't over yet!"
Then, his swordsman's aura surged.
In a single breath, it was as if he gathered not only his will, but the life force of every battle, every scar, every duel, every moment of his life dedicated to the blade.
His twin swords vibrated as if responding to the call of his soul.
The ground beneath his feet cracked. The air around him was sliced by countless invisible straight lines, as if it had been cut before it even realized what was happening.
At the same time, Tiberion's fist burned violently. The flames engulfing it weren't an illusion or a visual effect.
Nor were they from a Devil Fruit.
They were the result of extreme muscular thermal release, the physical manifestation of absolute control over his muscles. By compressing his energy and unleashing the built-up tension in a single point, the oxygen in the air around him began to ignite, unable to withstand the friction of his power.
His fist was a living forge.
A heat bomb in the shape of a limb.
The temperature was so high that it even distorted space. Energy waves were visible, bending light and creating flashes like mirages in the air.
But then… Vista's swordsmanship reached a new level.
His blade began to cut through the wind, the sound… and then, the very thermal energy waves surrounding Tiberion's fist.
That invisible barrier—until now stopping any slash from getting near his fists—began to give way.
The pressure from the blade broke through the first layer of defense.
The distance that always kept his fist protected—those impossible five centimeters—disappeared for the first time.
Vista's swords managed to touch Tiberion's flesh directly.
And there, in a split second, before everyone's eyes…
A thin thread of blood emerged from the back of Tiberion's fist.
The wound was superficial, but it was real blood. A clean cut, opened in a body that had declared itself invincible.
Although his flesh was incredibly tough, it didn't match the hardness of his bones—and it wasn't covered in Armament Haki.
"..."
Tiberion looked at the cut on his fist. It was small, just a thin line of blood slowly trailing down his hardened skin. But to him… it was enough.
A mere scratch, yet its meaning was abyssal.
His face, until now wearing an arrogant expression, froze instantly.
His brow furrowed. The veins in his neck bulged. And then, his eyes lit up.
That faint red glow returned to his pupils, spreading like embers.
His jaw clenched. His lips formed a trembling smile, filled with a humiliation he had never expected to feel.
To be wounded by an inferior being… even if it was a shallow cut, even if it was an "exception"—it was unacceptable.
It was an offense that could not be forgiven. Not because the damage was severe… but because the act of being damaged was.
In his value system, pain didn't matter. But humiliation… drove him insane.
A wave of uncontrollable fury began to surge through his body, as if a beast long dormant in the depths of his soul had been violently awakened.
His aura changed completely.
His aura changed completely.
It was no longer the fierce, confident energy—it had become the cold, murderous presence of an absolute predator.
The air around him grew denser. The atmosphere cooled within seconds, and everyone nearby felt their pores contract.
!
And Vista was the first to feel it.
A chilling shiver ran down his spine.
His instincts screamed at him to flee.
But he didn't move—because he couldn't.
Because if he backed down… then all of the Whitebeard Pirates would be crushed. As a noble swordsman, as a commander, his only option was to face it head-on.
Even so, he couldn't deny it—the being before him was changing.
Tiberion's fury was rewriting his body.
The muscles in his torso swelled slightly, the pressure in his bloodstream rising like a pot about to explode. His chest rose and fell slowly… not from exhaustion, but because he was holding himself back.
The veins in his arms throbbed so violently they looked ready to burst.
!
Then, the muscles in his back began to move on their own.
They expanded, contracted, and then shifted until they formed an unnatural silhouette.
From a distance, it seemed like nothing more than a warped shadow. But anyone close enough would feel something much deeper: a demonic face was emerging from his back, a physical manifestation of his restrained rage.
And this wasn't an illusion, nor a visual effect.
It was real. It was the beginning of the Demon Back.
And although it had only formed about ten percent… it was enough to petrify any onlooker with fear.
And with just that… with that glimpse of the Demon Back sprouting from his back, Tiberion's power skyrocketed into madness.
It was as if his body had been sealed until that very moment—and suddenly, the chains broke.
A devastating current burst from his spine like a rising tide, coursing through his torso and finally exploding into his arms.
He felt his fists burning.
Not like flames on the outside, but from within—from the marrow, from the ligaments and deepest fibers of his body. As if his entire being was slowly transforming into pure destructive force.
And he felt it… it was nothing more than a roar of power being born from the depths of his nature.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Tiberion's laughter shook the protective bubble of Fish-Man Island.
BOOOOM
A shockwave blasted from his body—pure physical energy.
CRACK
Vista's two swords, which until then had seemed untouchable, shattered in half, splintered by the immeasurable force of Tiberion's burning fist.
Before the dust even settled or the embers faded—
Tiberion vanished.
And in the very next instant, he appeared in front of Vista—so fast his movement seemed like a spatial distortion.
His eyes, fully red, reflected a rage both restrained and alive.
And then… he didn't use his fist. He didn't need to.
He simply raised his hand and, with fingers tensed like blades, delivered a direct downward slash with the edge of his hand.
SPLASH
Blood splattered violently across his face, staining his jaw, his neck, his chest.
!
Vista lowered his eyes.
And there it was—his left arm.
Completely severed from the shoulder.
Vista gasped, stunned—his mind refusing to process what his senses were already screaming.
His body staggered back purely by instinct, like a wounded animal fleeing a storm—but his consciousness was trapped in that single moment.
"Tsk…" Tiberion lowered his arm, a drop of blood sliding down the back of his hand. "Making me angry… always comes with a price."
Vista, staggering, tried to stay on his feet, but his balance was failing.
"You didn't do too badly," added Tiberion, looking at his own right fist, where a thin line of blood still remained. "With your best slash, you managed to leave me a three-centimeter wound."
"—But don't be proud of it. You're still nowhere near cutting my bones."
He took a step forward, his energy still ablaze, and raised his voice with contempt:
"And by the way. Your sword really is pathetically ordinary. If I were you, I'd learn to fight with my fists. At least that way, you might have some hope of not being humiliated again."
Vista gritted his teeth, but couldn't help it.
Sweat rolled down his forehead.
And as he listened to those words, the blood boiling in his body went cold… and his pride collapsed.
"PFFF!"
He spat blood. Again. And again.
His dignity—not just as a swordsman, but as one of Whitebeard's pillars—had been trampled without mercy.
Only then did the crowds of onlookers scattered across Fish-Man Island begin to react.
"W-What was that?? What just happened?!"
"That blazing light…! Was it released by Lord Tiberion!? That was terrifying! We could feel the heat from all the way over here!"
"Yes! I felt it too… it suddenly got suffocating. For a moment, I thought I was burning alive."
"What a shame… I closed my eyes right then, just out of reflex…"
"Well, you're lucky! I forced mine open… and now I see everything like shadows. I almost went blind!"
"Same here! It was like someone lit the sun two meters away…"
"Battles between monsters… aren't meant for the weak to witness. They remind us just how far below we are."
Many spoke between heavy breaths, rubbing their eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened… yet not daring to get closer.
Only those with true strength—or mastery of Observation Haki—had managed to see beyond the glare.
Tokikake. Gion. And a few of Whitebeard's commanders.
And even so… even they were frozen in place.
"Was that… real?" Tokikake murmured, breathless.
Tiberion Hanma… in an outburst as fast as a spark, had destroyed Vista's swords—one of the strongest swordsmen in the world—and then, with a motion they barely registered, severed his arm.
And not with a weapon, but with his own hand.
"Gion…" he whispered, swallowing hard. "That man is monstrous. His strength… his aura… it's not something we can contain."
He turned to her, fists clenched behind his back.
"Even if you and I joined forces, we wouldn't be able to take him down. Maybe we should leave this matter for another time…"
There was fear in his voice—but there was also logic.
Tiberion wasn't a common enemy. He wasn't even like the Emperors they knew.
In fact, Tokikake thought it, but didn't dare to say it out loud:
Not even Kaido had ever seemed as terrifying as this man.
The feeling that if anyone dared provoke him, Tiberion could, without hesitation, tear them apart with his bare hands—and laugh while doing it.
Despite his suggestion, Gion didn't respond right away.
She had seen it too, and it unsettled her.
Her brows were furrowed, her lips trembling. Her gaze never left him—not for a single instant. She stared at Tiberion as if she wished with all her being to erase him from the face of the world.
But beneath that rage… there was something else.
When she finally spoke, her tone was dry, bitter.
"Do you think I care whether you want to join or not? Stay out of this! Tiberion Hanma… I'll kill him myself, with my own hands!"
But the stronger her voice rang out, the more visible the shadow in her eyes became.
Because… now that she had seen him fight, she felt despair.
How was anyone—even her—supposed to kill a monster like that?
The weight in her chest was suffocating, and the thought alone made her sick.
She wanted revenge, yes. She wanted justice.
But she also feared that… maybe she no longer had the right to seek it.
And that churned her stomach.
Tokikake stared at her, and the way she held herself, the way she avoided looking at him directly, unsettled him.
And then he remembered last night.
Gion had disappeared for hours. And when she returned, she was wearing different clothes. She hadn't said a word, and didn't answer any of his questions. Her mood was bleak.
And now, she looked at Tiberion with a mix of emotions impossible to describe.
Tokikake narrowed his eyes, and a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.
'No. It can't be…'
But deep down, he already knew.
'Did that bastard… rape Gion?'
________
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