"What? Not planning to make your move?" Sephiroth's voice cut through the air as he turned to face Aokiji, his gaze sharp and deliberate.
Akainu lay crumpled in the distance, sent flying by Sephiroth's sudden burst of speed. Aokiji's muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing with caution. That speed—it was blinding. Faster than anything he'd anticipated. One moment Akainu was there, the next he was gone, and Sephiroth's presence had been completely undetectable to his Observation Haki.
Without hesitation, Aokiji raised his right hand, summoning a surge of frigid air that coalesced into a massive ice bird—the Ice Block: Pheasant Beak. Its wings beat with a chilling roar, leaving a trail of frost in its wake as it hurtled toward Sephiroth. In less than a heartbeat, it was upon him.
Sephiroth didn't flinch. With calm precision, he raised his left hand and delivered a single, unremarkable punch. The ice bird shattered on impact, exploding into a cloud of icy shards and thick, white mist that obscured his vision. But Sephiroth wasn't caught off guard. He knew what was coming next.
From within the haze, Aokiji emerged, his right arm encased in a crystalline gauntlet of ice. With a roar, he drove a devastating right hook into Sephiroth's cheek, his Armament Haki surging like a tidal wave. The force tore through Sephiroth's Conqueror's Haki defenses, flooding into his body with destructive intent.
But Sephiroth had anticipated this. His Armament Haki flared, shielding his head and minimizing the damage. Years of honing his body and Haki with the butcher knife had made him resilient. Pure Armament Haki attacks, without the infusion of Haoshoku, couldn't break through his defenses—even from someone as skilled as Aokiji.
Still, Aokiji's punch was no small thing. Trained by Garp himself, his strikes were honed on warships and sandbags, packing enough force to make Sephiroth's head spin and draw blood from the corner of his mouth. But Sephiroth gritted his teeth and stood his ground. He'd take the hit—he just needed to endure it.
Aokiji's eyes widened slightly as Sephiroth absorbed the blow, his feet digging into the ground with a thunderous boom. The earth beneath him cratered, cracks spidering outward as he redirected the force of the punch into the ground. Aokiji's momentum was halted, his arm trapped in Sephiroth's iron grip.
Sephiroth's lips curled into a savage grin. His free hand moved with lightning speed, fingers coated in pitch-black Armament Haki and crackling with dark red energy. Hundred-fold speed amplification. The Finger Pistol: Spots.
In an instant, Sephiroth's fingers became a blur, thousands of afterimages stabbing at Aokiji's body like a relentless storm. The speed was overwhelming—even Sephiroth couldn't fully control it. Each strike was amplified by Armament Haki and Haoshoku, delivering devastating force without the precision of internal destruction. But precision didn't matter now. All that mattered was the sheer, unrelenting power of the assault.
Aokiji realized escape through elemental transformation was futile. With desperate urgency, he channeled Armament Haki to bolster his defenses. But he wasn't Kaido—that monstrous embodiment of impenetrable defense. And Sephiroth had augmented his Finger Pistol with Haoshoku Haki.
Even at full strength, Aokiji's Armament Haki couldn't fully withstand the onslaught. Splurt! Splurt! Splurt! Blood holes punctured his body in an instant, blood streaming from the wounds to pool at his feet. Damn it!
If this continued, severe injuries would spell his defeat. He had to stop the attacks—now. Eyes bloodshot, Aokiji gritted his teeth against the pain and lunged forward, left hand reaching to seize Sephiroth's assaulting arm.
But Sephiroth anticipated the move. With a brutal swipe of his left hand, he slammed Aokiji's battered, blood-soaked body into the ground like a discarded sack. The impact carved a human-shaped crater deep into the Red Line, the shockwaves trembling through the earth beneath them. Rumble!
From the mountain ruins, boiling magma erupted in a fiery cascade, hurling rocks skyward. Akainu emerged from the rubble, his body radiating crimson firelight. Wherever he stepped, the ground melted into a spreading sea of molten lava.
In moments, the lava extended a hundred meters, its scorching flow reaching Sephiroth's feet. Though the magma licked at his legs, his Armament Haki shielded him from harm, leaving only his clothes singed and a faint heat lingering on his skin.
Akainu's expression darkened as he spoke, his voice icy. "I'm getting serious. Don't blame me if you die."
Sephiroth's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Don't worry. Come at me with everything you've got. I promise not to kill you."
Their animosity ran deep, and now, with a legitimate chance to settle old scores, neither held back. Suddenly, dozens—no, hundreds—of snarling lava hounds burst from the molten ground, encircling Sephiroth and lunging from all sides.
But Akainu's eyes widened in shock as lava tentacles erupted from the ground, yanking the hounds back into the magma, dispersing them into formless pools. "What the hell? How is this possible?"
He could feel it—the magma he'd imbued with pseudo-life, the element he could mold and command at will, was slipping from his control. An invisible force was stealing it from him.
"It's just magma," Sephiroth sneered, raising his right hand. As his Float-Float Fruit activated, the ground's magma churned and boiled violently. "You think you're the only one who can play with it?"
"Take this... Meteor Volcano!"
Akainu's eyes widened. Swish! Swish! Swish!
Fists made of magma shot out from the ground, blasting towards Akainu from all directions. The impacts splattered molten rock across his body, the magma he'd created now scorching his own flesh. The attack wasn't lethal, but it was a brutal humiliation. Akainu, the master of magma, now wore his own element as a mask of shame.