Wind howled as three auras collided, distorting the very air around them. Trees bent, the ground trembled, and even time itself seemed to pause for a heartbeat.
Rocks D. Xebec stood at the center of the chaos, his black coat torn and whipping violently behind him. His eyes were wild, intelligent, arrogant, and filled with a thirst for domination. In his grip, a jagged, obsidian-colored greatsword hummed with an unnatural darkness, absorbing the light around it.
Before him stood the two legends of justice and freedom.
Gol D. Roger held his saber in a relaxed but ready stance, golden haki arcing off him like lightning. His presence was joyous and terrifying all at once—like a storm that smiled before it destroyed everything in its path.
To his side, Monkey D. Garp cracked his knuckles, fists blackened with a brutal coat of Armament Haki. No weapon—just two iron fists honed from a lifetime of brawling with monsters.
Then it began.
Rocks vanished—blitzing forward with terrifying speed, his haki flaring purple and black, Conqueror's Haki laced into every motion. He brought his greatsword down like a guillotine toward Roger.
CLAAAAAANG!
Roger blocked with his saber, the impact detonating a shockwave that flattened trees for miles behind them.
In that same instant, Garp surged in from the side like a missile. His fist collided with Rocks' ribs with a sickening crunch, but Rocks didn't flinch—he rotated with the blow and used the momentum to hurl Roger backward into a boulder, shattering it.
Rocks twisted and unleashed a spinning slash, a massive crescent of haki-infused blade energy toward Garp, who crossed his arms just in time. The wave sliced the terrain in half, creating a gaping chasm.
Roger returned with vengeance.
"DIVINE DEPARTURE!"
His blade surged with gold-tinged Conqueror's Haki as he swung. A beam of pure force roared from his strike, tearing a trench hundreds of meters long through the battlefield. Rocks planted his sword into the ground and absorbed the hit, his body skidding backward, but standing.
Then Garp was above him, descending with both fists together.
"GALAXY CRUSH!"
The double-fisted smash cratered the earth beneath them, blasting debris into the air like a volcanic eruption. A moment of silence—and Rocks exploded from the smoke, laughing maniacally, his torso bruised but his will unbroken.
Round Three: Rocks' Fury
Roaring, Rocks leapt skyward and gathered his haki around his blade, forming a storm of black lightning. He spun midair and released a technique that split the sky.
"Tyrant King's Judgement!"
An enormous arc of chaotic black-and-purple energy fell like a divine punishment. Roger and Garp moved in perfect sync—Roger slashed upward to split the attack in two, while Garp leapt through the breach and delivered a Haki-charged punch to Rocks' jaw midair, sending him careening into a cliffside.
The impact shattered the mountain behind him. As the dust settled, the three figures stood in a triangle of devastation.
Rocks, blood running down his face, stood tall with a maniacal grin. His Conqueror's Haki crackled in an aura that distorted vision.
Roger, breathing heavily but grinning wide, lowered his saber. "You're tough, Xebec."
Garp, fists bleeding, still grinned. "But not tough enough."
The air tightened again as all three erupted their full Haki—a pressure that sent every remaining pirate, marine, and beast in the area crashing to the ground in unconscious heaps.
They charged once more.
And the island trembled.
The battlefield had become unrecognizable—mountains reduced to rubble, forests to ash, and the sky split by the aftermath of Conqueror's Haki colliding over and over again.
Their final clash was drawing close.
Rocks stood panting atop a cracked cliff, his coat now half-burned, one arm bleeding heavily, but his eyes still full of raw ambition.
Roger and Garp approached slowly, shoulder to shoulder—neither smiling anymore. No banter. No arrogance.
Just duty.
Rocks grinned. "You fools really think you've won?"
He slammed his sword into the ground, and the entire valley quaked. From beneath the earth, ancient Haki erupted—like a dragon waking from a thousand-year slumber.
"This world... will belong to those with strength!"
With a roar, Rocks leapt forward for the final blow, his blade engulfed in a swirling vortex of Armament and Conqueror's Haki. The very air ignited as he brought the sword down.
Roger met him head-on, his blade singing with golden lightning.
"YOU WON'T HAVE IT!"
He clashed with Rocks midair. The explosion of Haki could be seen from the far edges of the Grand Line. In that split-second, Garp appeared behind Rocks, both fists drawn back.
"FIST OF DIVINE JUSTICE!"
Garp struck Rocks at the base of the spine, sending a burst of shockwave haki so intense it cracked the atmosphere itself. The force passed through Rocks body, and for the first time, he screamed in pain.
Roger followed up instantly.
"DEATH'S ASCENT!"
He spun midair and drove his blade into Rocks' chest in a crescent arc, releasing all of his Haki in a single, blinding surge. The ground erupted as the force was released—an upward explosion of light and pressure that shot into the heavens like a signal to the gods.
Rocks' body was launched backward, tearing through the valley like a comet. He hit the far canyon wall with such violence that the entire cliff collapsed atop him.
Silence.
The wind returned. The smoke began to clear. Roger stood with his blade resting on his shoulder. Garp slowly lowered his fists.
The great tyrant of ambition—Rocks D. Xebec—was gone.
Dead? Imprisoned? Disintegrated? None could say. His body was never found beneath the rubble, and no soul on that island dared to search.