Nasujuro's massive centaur body suddenly began to shrink, collapsing in on itself as though the air had been drained from it. In a matter of seconds, the monstrous form vanished, leaving behind the figure of an old man clad in a simple kimono.
His hand clutched tightly around the hilt of the First Generation Kitetsu, which remained embedded deep in the shattered ground.
His arm trembled violently as he tried to lift the blade—trying to raise it, trying to point it toward Gern Reginald Sigmar.
But the dark-purple lightning of Conqueror's Haki raging within the wound brought unbearable agony and suppression. The violent power gnawing at his body made even such a simple motion nearly impossible.
"Ugh… why…"
Nasujuro lifted his head slowly.
Bloodshot eyes locked onto Gern at the edge of the crater. His voice was hoarse, repeating the same words with near-obsessive insistence.
"You… you can't kill me… I possess the Supreme Blessing granted by that one…"
"That one is watching…"
"You… you can't kill me!!"
The sight was pitiful.
This old man—once seated atop the pinnacle of world authority—was now shouting like a cornered animal.
Gern's expression didn't change.
He merely let out a cold chuckle.
"Heh."
"Is this the… distant barking of a defeated dog?"
"Sounds awful."
Without another word, his wrist flicked.
The blade of Bahuang spun lightly in his hand, its killing intent sharp and unmistakable.
"So that's how it is…"
Gern adjusted his stance.
The sword that had been angled downward slowly shifted into a precise thrust-slash posture.
Cracks began spreading across the ground beneath his feet.
"So the ones sitting high above everyone else…"
"…are actually pretty easy…"
"…to kill."
The instant the words fell—
Gern vanished.
His figure transformed into a streak of dark-ashen lightning that tore through space itself.
The blade of Bahuang shot straight toward Nasujuro's throat.
A horizontal slash.
One meant to end everything.
This strike would sever not only the man's head—
But also the very obsession with immortality he clung to.
Yet at the exact moment Bahuang's edge reached his body—
Nasujuro's eyes changed.
The pupils that had been dilated in terror suddenly contracted to needle-like points.
Then—
The whites of his eyes were swallowed by a deep, abyssal darkness.
And within the tiny pupils themselves—
A complex dark-red circular pattern, like rotating rings of reincarnation, slowly appeared.
The patterns in both eyes began to turn.
Slowly.
Silently.
Then they stopped.
At that moment—
A will descended.
Cold.
Ancient.
Supreme.
It was a presence completely different from Nasujuro's own.
And it had arrived through his eyes.
An invisible ripple spread outward from him.
The dark-purple lightning of Gern's Conqueror's Haki—which had been clinging to Nasujuro's wounds and suppressing his immortality—
Collapsed instantly the moment that ripple passed.
It vanished.
As if it had never existed at all.
The next second—
Nasujuro's body, which Bahuang had nearly split in two—
began to change.
The massive wound across his left side sealed itself instantly.
Muscle, bone, flesh—
All of it fused together at a speed that defied reason.
Faster than time itself.
When the healing finished—
Not even a scar remained.
His body was completely restored.
Perfect.
At that same moment—
Gern's blade had already touched the skin of Nasujuro's neck.
Clap.
Two hands rose.
Without anyone noticing when they had moved.
One on each side—
They clamped down on Bahuang's blade.
Firmly.
Precisely.
They ignored the fact that the sword edge instantly cut into the palms—
Slicing through flesh.
Through bone.
Through the wrists.
Even up into the forearms.
With nothing but raw flesh and bone—
The figure held the blade in place.
Like a man committing self-mutilation.
And just like that—
Gern's lethal strike stopped.
Unable to advance even a single inch further.
"…Those eyes…"
Gern's expression changed.
"That power… that feeling…"
At that moment, the one gripping Bahuang—Nasujuro, or rather the entity currently occupying his body—slowly raised his head.
The motion was stiff.
Almost mechanical.
Those eyes bearing the dark-red reincarnation patterns gazed calmly at Gern standing inches away.
Then a voice came from Nasujuro's mouth.
It was strange.
Layered.
Neither male nor female.
Neither young nor old.
A hollow echo resonated beneath the words.
"Mmm…"
The voice paused briefly.
As if confirming something.
Or simply stating an obvious truth.
"Arrived."
Imu.
The ruler of the Empty Throne.
The sovereign who had governed the world for eight hundred years.
The supreme deity above the World Government and the Celestial Dragons.
The one referred to simply as "that one."
The very source—and maintainer—of the so-called Supreme Blessing.
The ultimate enemy.
And now—
Through Nasujuro's body—
That will had descended.
In that moment—
Gern felt his heart clench violently.
Danger.
Incomprehensible.
Absolutely impossible to confront.
This was the same "thing" that even Rocks, Roger, Garp, Whitebeard, Big Mom, and Kaido—all six at their peaks—had been unable to kill together.
Perhaps even the existence that had manipulated Rocks himself.
Was that "being"…
The one standing in front of him now?
The unknown created a fear unlike anything Gern had ever felt.
He didn't hesitate.
He didn't even have time to think.
"CLANG—!!!"
All the strength in Gern's wrist exploded outward.
Bahuang twisted violently.
With a savage vibration—
The blade sliced straight through both wrists of the hands gripping it.
The severed hands didn't fall.
The moment they separated—
They transformed into two writhing masses of black, grotesque matter.
Gern didn't even spare them a glance.
He abandoned the idea of pursuing or delivering a finishing blow.
His feet slammed against the ground.
Activating Shock Flash, he retreated backward at the fastest speed of his life.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three consecutive high-speed flashes.
In an instant he created as much distance as possible between himself and "Nasujuro"—or rather Imu's descended vessel.
Finally, he stopped atop a tall, broken stone pillar near the island's edge.
His chest rose and fell slightly.
His gaze locked tightly onto the figure slowly rising from the ground.
His breathing had become rapid—
Though even he hadn't noticed it.
The hand gripping his sword had turned pale from excessive force.
And deep within those eyes that normally shone with confidence, dominance, or amusement—
A new emotion was reflected.
An emotion never seen before.
Grave tension.
Wariness.
And a faint trace of something he himself refused to acknowledge—
Fear.
Not fear of strength.
But fear of the unknown.
Of something that defied all logic.
Of an existence that might possess the power to control life, death, and will itself.
The terror of a reality in which even a monster like Rocks could be manipulated.
Gern's mind raced wildly, trying to analyze the situation.
But there was too little information.
Too many unknowns.
"Nasujuro" slowly straightened his body.
The wounds at the severed wrists had already healed.
He rotated his neck slightly.
Crack.
Then those inhuman eyes calmly looked toward the distant Gern once again.
The layered, hollow voice spoke again.
Still completely devoid of emotion.
"Fear in the face of the unknown…"
"…is the correct reaction."
"But before Mu…"
"…it is useless."
As the words fell—
Imu, inhabiting Nasujuro's body, simply raised his newly restored right hand slightly.
His index finger pointed toward Gern.
Lightly.
There was no beam of energy.
No Haki blast.
Yet Gern's expression changed instantly.
His Conqueror's Haki erupted at full force without reservation.
Meanwhile—
"Saint Nasujuro," now merely a vessel for Imu's will, began to walk forward.
Step by step.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Toward Gern.
"However…"
"You are qualified…"
"…for Mu to speak with you."