Rayleigh watched in stunned silence as one pirate king after another crumpled to the Red Line's surface, bleeding out in pools of crimson. Even he—the man who once stood at Gol D. Roger's right side, who conquered the Grand Line and earned the title of the Dark King—felt a primal, bone-deep chill.
It wasn't the fear of death. It was the fear of absolute power.
To witness a single man dismantle legends in the blink of an eye… it was a nightmare.
"You're distracted, Rayleigh."
The voice cut through the air like ice. Rayleigh snapped back to reality, his Observation Haki flaring too late. Admiral Rosen stood before him, Senbonzakura dripping with Kaido's blood. The Admiral's gaze was cold, analytical—the look of a man dissecting a specimen.
Swoosh!
Rayleigh moved. Instinct took over. Conqueror's Haki exploded outward, lightning crackling along his blade as he swung for Rosen's neck. The strike contained the force to split the sky, fueled by the desperation of an old era clinging to life.
Rosen didn't dodge. He didn't even raise Senbonzakura.
He simply extended his right index finger.
Bang!
The collision shattered the ground beneath them. A fissure a thousand meters long tore through the Red Line, dust and debris exploding outward. Rayleigh's sword stopped dead against the single finger.
Rayleigh's eyes widened. He poured more Haki into the blade, the black lightning writhing violently. "Impossible!"
"It is."
Rosen hooked his finger forward. The blade, held in a grip of iron, refused to budge. With a flick of his wrist, Rosen disarmed the Dark King.
Clang.
The sword fell.
Thud.
Rayleigh dropped to his knees, a searing pain erupting in his chest. He looked down to see a shallow, precise wound. Not fatal. Just enough to cripple. His Conqueror's Haki sputtered and died out.
"I told you," Rosen said, stepping over Rayleigh's body. He looked down at the kneeling legend, his voice devoid of pity. "Regarding Hatchan... if you had objections, I would personally ensure the Pirate King's right hand never held a sword again."
Rayleigh gasped, his trembling hand reaching for the hilt just inches away. He couldn't grasp it. His strength was fading.
"With your strength, you have maybe a minute or two left," Rosen continued, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "Lie there. Watch the end of the Great Pirate Era. The World Government. The Roger Pirates. All of it... erased from history."
Rosen moved on. The other heavy hitters—Shanks, Big Mom, Blackbeard—watched from the Red Line's edge. They wanted to strike, but they hesitated. The Mirror Flower, Water Moon—Kyoka Suigetsu's ability—rendered their senses useless. Was Rosen truly there? Or was it an illusion?
They didn't know. So they waited. And they died in pieces.
"Rosen!"
A roar cut through the air. Saint Figarland Garling, the new Gorosei member, launched himself into the air. He bore the scars of a previous battle, but his arrogance remained intact. He believed his immortality was absolute.
"I have an immortal body! You cannot—"
Rosen didn't even look at him. He swung Senbonzakura.
A slash of cherry blossoms, thousands of meters wide, tore through the sky. It didn't just cut Garling; it bisected the very air. Garling's body fell in two halves, his regeneration beginning immediately.
"See?" Garling laughed, his flesh knitting together slowly. "You lack the Haki to kill me permanently!"
Rosen sheathed Senbonzakura. "I never said I needed to kill you in one strike. I just said you wouldn't annoy me twice."
Garling's laughter died in his throat.
Rosen drew Zangetsu. Black lightning mixed with blue spiritual energy coiled around the blade. He swung upward.
Zangetsu.
The world turned white. When the light faded, the Red Line was no longer just cracked—it was split. A massive canyon, hundreds of meters wide, carved through the continental crust, diving deep into the ocean depths.
There was no regeneration. No body. No soul.
Saint Figarland Garling was simply... gone.
Rosen turned, the wind whipping his coat. Only two figures remained standing in the carnage: Imu, the shadow ruler of the world, and Monkey D. Dragon, the Revolutionary leader.
"Of course," Imu spoke, his voice echoing with ancient malice, "you left us for last. Because you can't kill us."
Rosen ignored him, looking at Dragon. "You hold the Ancient Weapon Uranus. You command the Revolution. I expected more."
Dragon remained silent, his cloak billowing. His hands were clenched into fists, trembling not from fear, but from sheer, overwhelming pressure.
"I have a sword I rarely use," Rosen said, his voice calm. He reached to his side, drawing a second blade from nothingness. The sword looked like a heavy pen, the tip broad and flat. "It has no reason to exist against ordinary men. But against the two of you... I suppose it's time."
He held Zangetsu in his right hand. The pen-blade—Ichimonji—in his left.
"Prepare yourselves. Monkey D. Dragon."
Dragon finally moved. He ascended, lightning cascading from the heavens, a storm of biblical proportions. The sea churned, the sky roared. This was the power of Uranus—a weather-controlling force of nature.
Rosen simply raised Ichimonji.
"Dye it black."
He slashed horizontally.
It wasn't a physical slash. It was a stroke of ink. A black line drawn across the canvas of reality.
The storm vanished.
Dragon plummeted from the sky, crashing into the Red Line with a force that cracked the stone. He lay there, not dead, but... blackened. The lightning in the sky was gone. The clouds dispersed instantly.
"Father!" A cry from the distance—Sabo, trapped in the debris.
"What happened?" Imu murmured, his eyes narrowing. He could sense it. Dragon's aura was unchanged, yet he wasn't moving. "What is this power?"
"It is the power to negate," Rosen said, stepping toward Dragon's prone form. "Against this blade, all phenomena cease. All currents stop. All wills are extinguished."
Imu watched, calculating. He was the creator of the world, the immortal at the top. But looking at the blackened Dragon, and the shattered Garling before him, even Imu felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple.
"Why them first?" Imu asked, stalling.
Rosen looked back at the battlefield. Bodies littered the Red Line—pirates, revolutionaries, Celestial Dragons. All of them breathing, but broken.
"Because," Rosen said, raising Zangetsu once more, "I wanted you to see it all. I wanted you to understand that your era is over."
He pointed the blade at Imu.
"Now... it's your turn."
Imu braced himself, his devil fruit powers flaring—
"Getsuga Tenshō."
A wave of black and crimson energy, wider than the horizon, washed over the Red Line. It didn't just destroy. It erased.
When the dust settled, the seat of the World Government was cleaved in two, the Red Line split open to the ocean floor, and the age of the Gods had ended.
Silence returned to the New World.
—-
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