THE STRONGEST CREATURE OF THE BEAST PIRATES

Vista was confident. If Alastor continued to take this attack head-on, he was certain it would result in serious injury and the loss of combat power.

Under his sharp gaze, Alastor stood unmoving, taking the full force of Vista's sakura-infused strike without a shred of defense.

"Madness!" Vista muttered, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. His sakura petals, carrying razor-sharp Haki and potent sword intent, would shred the internal organs of any ordinary opponent. "Pay the price for your arrogance, Thunder Calamity Alastor!"

But as the sakura petals dispersed, Vista's smirk froze.

Standing amidst the fading pink glow, Alastor hadn't fallen. His body, though visibly scarred, looked unfazed. With a calm and almost mocking tone, Alastor said:

"Ah, I forgot to mention—my internal organs are just as tough as my skin. In this respect, no one on this sea compares to me."

He raised his sword, black and red energy radiating from its edge. "Remember this in hell, Flower Sword Vista."

"Ghost Aura: One Sword Style – Purgatory Funeral!"

A devastating wave of black and red sword energy surged toward Vista. His eyes widened in shock, realizing the attack's overwhelming power.

Vista struggled to process what he had just witnessed. This man's internal organs are as tough as his skin? The thought defied logic. Could he be a modified human?

The idea made some sense, but it couldn't fully explain the monster standing before him.

Vista's expression hardened. He had underestimated Alastor, and now he faced the consequences. A full-body defense, inside and out—against such an opponent, even his refined swordsmanship might fall short.

"Damn it!"

Vista raised his twin swords, channeling all his strength and Haki as the black and red wave of energy bore down on him.

The moment their blades collided with the energy wave, Vista's confidence wavered. It's stronger than I thought! he realized, gritting his teeth as he deflected the attack skyward with all his might.

The shockwave rippled across the battlefield. Vista steadied himself, his mind racing.

This isn't the path of an ordinary swordsman, he thought. Alastor doesn't rely on refined technique or precision. His style is pure strength and dominance. No matter what I do, he just overwhelms it with raw power.

The realization dawned on Vista: Alastor wasn't trying to master swordsmanship. It was merely one of many tools he wielded in his pursuit of invincibility.

"What an audacious man..."

Suddenly, a thunderclap rang out, and Alastor's voice echoed in his ears.

"I'm coming, Vista!"

The sound of thunder accompanied a flash of lightning as Alastor vanished, reappearing behind Vista with a speed that rivaled even Kizaru's light-based movement.

Vista's Observation Haki flared as he sensed the attack. His years of experience as a swordsman allowed him to react instinctively, dodging the strike by a hair's breadth and countering with his own blade.

But his sword cut through empty air.

Alastor's technique, Thunder Speed Slash, was designed to kill in a single strike. If the initial blow failed, he would already be gone.

"Can you even keep up with Thunder's speed? Impressive," Alastor admitted, his voice carrying a tinge of respect. "But it seems you've forgotten something."

"What?" Vista asked, his tone cautious.

Alastor's expression turned cold. "While you were distracted, I dealt with Izou."

Vista's eyes widened in shock. He turned instinctively—and froze.

Behind him, Izou's lifeless body lay on the ground, his severed head rolling a few feet away. The disbelief frozen on Izou's face mirrored the pain now consuming Vista.

"You bastard!" Vista roared, his voice trembling with fury.

The death of another crewmate felt like a knife to his heart. The Whitebeard Pirates had already suffered too much—Ace, Thatch, Whitebeard himself. Now, Izou, who had finally returned to the crew, was gone as well.

The thought of his once-glorious family falling apart pushed Vista over the edge.

"I'll kill you, Alastor!" Vista charged forward, his swords glowing with intense Haki, his grief fueling his rage.

Alastor grinned, his battle lust ignited by Vista's anger.

"Finally! Let's see what you're really capable of, Vista!"

Alastor flexed his body, shattering his shirt to reveal muscles that looked like tempered steel. Lightning coursed through his veins, but this time, he didn't channel it into his blade.

Instead, he stood tall, his body brimming with unrestrained energy.

"I won't even need my thunder or ghost aura for this," he said, grinning wickedly.

The battlefield trembled as two warriors, one driven by vengeance and the other by an insatiable hunger for strength, clashed once more.

Alastor raised his right arm high, the cursed sword gleaming under the light as it pointed skyward. His intent was clear and brutal. As Vista charged, filled with sorrow and rage, Alastor simply slashed downward—no flair, no subtlety, just pure, overwhelming force.

Vista, though consumed by grief, retained the discipline of a true swordsman. His anger didn't blind him; instead, it sharpened his focus. He saw through Alastor's strategy—it was a blatant attempt to exchange injuries, something only a fool would entertain against a monster like him.

Exchange injuries with Thunder Calamity Alastor? The very idea was absurd.

Vista had witnessed Alastor's insane resilience during the Summit War at Marineford. No matter how devastating the injury, Alastor would rise again, much to the despair of even the most seasoned combatants, including Fleet Admiral Sengoku.

Unlike Alastor, Vista lacked the monstrous defense that could withstand such punishment. Knowing this, he halted his charge, stomping the ground to retreat.

But Alastor wasn't about to let him escape.

Vista's Observation Haki, finely honed from years of battle, allowed him to track Alastor's movements. But speed was not Vista's strongest asset, and Alastor's lightning-fast reflexes ensured his blade was always one step ahead, descending toward Vista like an executioner's axe.

With no alternative, Vista raised his dual blades to block.

CRACK!

The impact of the strike split the ground beneath him, forcing Vista to grit his teeth as veins bulged across his temples. He pushed against the blade with all his might, only for Alastor to withdraw and immediately slash again.

There was no finesse in Alastor's technique—just raw, unrelenting power.

"Bastard! What kind of swordsmanship is this?" Vista growled in frustration.

Alastor's reply was calm and maddeningly casual. "This is my original swordsmanship style—Berserker. Why, does it bother you?"

Vista's face twitched. "How is that even swordsmanship? It's reckless and absurd!"

Indeed, Alastor's style was riddled with openings. Any skilled swordsman could exploit those gaps to land a counterstrike. But Vista hesitated.

Why? Because counterattacking meant exposing himself, and Alastor thrived on trading blows. Injuries didn't slow him—they only seemed to make him stronger.

For Vista, a single mistake could mean his defeat. For Alastor, injuries were nothing more than stepping stones.

"This… this is madness!" Vista thought, frustration building as he blocked yet another brutal downward slash.

The style was simple: relentless downward strikes, forcing the opponent to either defend, evade, or risk injury. Against anyone else, such a crude approach would be laughable. But against a behemoth like Alastor, it was terrifyingly effective.

Vista glimpsed Izou's severed head once more, the sight stoking his fury to a breaking point.

"Injury for injury? Fine! Let's see who falls first!"

With a roar, Vista spun his dual blades, driving them straight toward Alastor's abdomen.

Alastor didn't flinch. He let the blades pierce his body while his own sword came crashing down.

SLASH!

The result was gruesome: Vista's back bore a deep, bleeding wound, while a gaping hole now marred Alastor's abdomen.

[The host is severely injured. Defense +100.]

Alastor smiled through the blood. "Pain… it's exhilarating. Shall we go again?"

Vista's heart sank. Each wound seemed to strengthen Alastor further, his body growing tougher with every strike. Meanwhile, Vista's own injuries were taking their toll, sapping his strength.

The battle became increasingly one-sided. Vista poured everything into his attacks, unleashing his strongest sword techniques, but it was futile. Even his most devastating blows left Alastor standing, smiling, and ready for more.

Vista felt despair creeping in. "This… this isn't a fight. It's a nightmare!"

Elsewhere on the battlefield, the situation was dire.

Marco, locked in combat with Yamato, struggled to hold his ground. While the regenerative flames of the Phoenix allowed him to endure, he was slowly being overwhelmed by Yamato's ferocity and mastery of her father's techniques.

Diamond Jozu, already handicapped with one arm, fought valiantly against Jack. Though his diamond-hard defense gave him an edge, Jack's relentless attacks gradually wore him down.

The remaining Whitebeard remnants, numbering only a few hundred, were no match for the sheer might of the Beasts Pirates. Many had already fallen, their spirits broken by the overwhelming power of their opponents and the devastating aura of Conqueror's Haki that blanketed the battlefield.

Marco's heart ached as he watched his comrades fall one by one. His gaze flickered to Izou's lifeless body, and a deep pain gripped him.

Is this it? Is this the end of the Whitebeard Pirates?

With their father gone, the crew's once-indomitable spirit had been shattered. They were no longer the family that had ruled the seas, striking fear into the hearts of the World Government and rival crews alike.

Marco clenched his fists, tears streaming down his face. "No… I won't let it end like this!"

But the reality was undeniable. The Whitebeard Pirates, the family that had once stood as one of the Four Emperors, was on the brink of collapse.

In the shadows, a sinister figure watched the chaos unfold with a devilish grin.

"Perfect," Blackbeard muttered, his voice dripping with malice. "Let them tear each other apart. When the dust settles, the spoils of war will be mine."

As the Whitebeard Pirates faced their darkest hour, the ambitions of their enemies loomed ever larger.

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