The sound of someone swallowing echoed in the silence.
"Hey, maybe we should, you know... move back a bit?" Zoka stammered, staring at a massive fissure no more than ten centimeters from his feet. His hands, clenched tightly around his jitte, were pale with tension, and cold sweat trickled down his face.
"For once, I agree with the Navy," Arlan muttered, nodding stiffly as sweat beaded on his own brow.
Neither side said another word, they simply turned and bolted into the desert, each group scattering toward the nearest tall sand dunes. With the sun dipping below the horizon, the desert's blazing heat had eased somewhat; otherwise, the Navy would likely be dealing with heatstroke casualties by now.
Even after the Chris Pirates and the Navy had retreated from the Sandstone Basin, the ground still quaked violently. Explosions echoed as deep craters and curved trenches were blasted out by Aeridar's relentless Impact Cannons. Towering pits, like meteorite craters, gouged out by Syrons' hammer, scarred the battlefield. Shattered clefts, cleaved by their razor-sharp Rankyakus, riddled the terrain.
The entire basin had been obliterated. The once-solid sandstone formations lay in ruin, there wasn't a single intact slab taller than a man. If not for Aeridar and Syrons deliberately keeping their fight contained to this area, even Rainbase a kilometer away might've been caught in the crossfire. If that had happened, Crocodile himself might have gotten involved.
"What kind of battle is this...?"
"Is he a monster too...?"
"Even New World pirates aren't this terrifying..."
From atop the dunes, both Arlan's group and the Navy watched in stunned silence. Cold sweat drenched every brow. A moment ago, they had all thought themselves capable warriors. But now, faced with a clash between forces of this caliber, they saw the brutal truth, compared to the peak powers of this world, they were nothing. Aeridar and Syrons were every bit the monsters one might expect in the New World.
"Die already, you damn fossil!"
Aeridar was drenched in blood, his roar echoing as he blurred across the battlefield in phantom-like bursts of speed.
"I've got decades left in me, brat."
Syrons twisted his torso, sidestepping just in time as an Impact Wave tore past him, pulverizing the ground a hundred meters away.
He spun, slamming his hammer behind him.
A dark blur was sent flying, crashing and bouncing across the shattered earth, carving several trenches into the dust before finally coming to a halt.
Clutching his chest, Aeridar coughed up a mouthful of blood. Only then did the crushing pressure in his ribs ease slightly.
"Damn creepy old man... that hurt like hell!"
His face suddenly paled. In a blink, he rolled to the side in a Lazy Donkey Tumble.
A jet-black hammer slammed into the exact spot he'd just been lying on, smashing the ground into rubble. A two-meter-wide crater caved in under the blow. The shockwave alone flipped Aeridar clean off his feet.
He rolled, scrambled upright, then dropped to one knee, slamming a fist into the ground.
The very air trembled. Dust burst away in all directions.
"One hammer didn't kill you? Fine. I've got plenty more."
Syrons, unfazed by the block, swung his second hammer-hand in a wide arc toward Aeridar's head. The air howled with the force, had it landed, even a Sea King might've been left half-dead.
Seeing the hammer screaming toward his skull, Aeridar didn't try to block. He shifted his weight and used the momentum to launch himself back.
"Back off, you crusty freak."
Landing just out of range, Aeridar planted his foot and let fly with a slash.
Syrons' hammer whooshed through empty air. As he looked up, a crescent-shaped slash of blue-white energy carved straight into his abdomen, forcing him back several steps.
Aeridar knew that a hastily summoned Rankyaku wouldn't breach Syrons' Armament Haki. But what it could do was slam him backward with enough force to buy precious seconds to breathe.
Exhaling heavily, Aeridar vanished in a flash.
A heartbeat later, he was crouched right in front of the reeling Syrons, knees bent, fists cocked. His left fist hovered above, his right below, both knuckles pressed to Syrons' gut.
Syrons' instincts flared. A surge of danger set his Observation Haki blazing like a siren, every alarm in his mind going off at once.
"Secret Technique—Mountain-Splitting Strike: Divine Spiral!!!"
Aeridar's fists detonated with a monstrous force before Syrons could react. The impact crushed into his Armament-coated abdomen, caving it inward at the exact point of contact. The surrounding air rippled, then shattered with a sonic burst. Syrons was blasted off his feet, a black blur streaking across the sky trailed by concentric shockwaves.
He soared dozens of meters before vomiting a jet of blood midair. When he hit the ground, he bounced, again and again, before skidding across the torn earth in a long, dragging trail.
Aeridar staggered. His legs trembled before giving out, and he dropped to one knee, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The black sheen of his Armament Haki faded from his arms.
He'd launched the ultimate technique too hastily, hoping to catch Syrons off guard. In doing so, he'd torn muscles in his arms and legs and shocked his internal organs.
"Damn geezer's built like a monster..." he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth, exhausted.
Despite unleashing everything he had, Aeridar had spent most of the battle at a disadvantage. He'd taken several devastating hits. Had it not been for his own shockwave abilities mitigating the worst of the damage, he'd already be dead. Even so, his ribs were fractured, his insides shaken, and his body marred with wounds.
As for Syrons, most of Aeridar's attacks hadn't even broken through. The few that could had been expertly dodged, until now. This last strike had landed clean, but even so, it was a trade of injury for injury.
Far off, Syrons crawled out of a pile of rubble, his appearance wretched. Blood soaked his body, and his once-unshakable Armament Haki had vanished, revealing weathered bronze skin stained with dust and gore.
His eyes bulged as he vomited another mouthful of blood, this time laced with chunks of what might have been his own organs. The internal damage was severe.
"Damn brat... It's been ages since I took a beating ," Syrons growled, brow furrowed, clutching his gut. His face twisted in agony, and worst of all, he could feel old wounds deep inside him beginning to rupture again.
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