"Come on, man! Don't you die on me! You can't leave me alone… not like those two!"

  My eyesight cleared, and I saw Ace—tears streaking down his dirt-covered face. I gasped for breath, and he instantly backed off to give me space.

  "Thank God you're alive! But… we’re not exactly somewhere safe."

  I realized I was lying on massive, broken debris. Rubble stretched out in every direction.

  "What… what happened here?" I croaked.

  "When you got yourself pierced and passed out, I thought you were dead. Then Gramps showed up and started brawling with that armor—him and another Marine."

  Just like Kurama predicted.

  I needed to find that sword… and Garp.

  I told Ace to get up and move. As we pushed forward, he looked at me like I was insane, but I didn’t care. This was our only chance—mine, his, and Goa’s.

  “Did Fuschia get hit too?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Everyone got evacuated. The town’s gonna be destroyed, but at least the people are safe.”

  Good. One less thing to worry about.

  Yet something felt wrong.

  The forest was… colder.

  Ice spikes jutted from the ground. Frost coated the bark. I nearly slipped on a slick sheet of ice.

  “What the hell? It’s summer. It doesn’t snow here…”

  We ran deeper—until the trees thinned.

  And right then, Ace spoke.

  His voice didn’t sound like it belonged on the battlefield.

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  It sounded like something quietly breaking inside him.

  “As we ran,” he muttered, eyes darting toward me, “I was watching you. And… you look different. Not just beat up. Different.”

  I frowned. “What? What’s wrong?”

  He refused to meet my eyes.

  “It’s nothing,” he said too quickly. “It’s just… something changed in you. And I don’t think you’re gonna like it. It’s… weird.”

  He pushed through the final row of trees without another word.

  I followed, unease settling deep in my gut.

  At the time, I didn’t understand what he saw.

  I only found out later—

  After everything else went wrong.

  And then we reached the clearing.

  Two figures fought the armor—Grandpa and another Marine. A man with dark skin, black curly hair, and a captain’s coat. Ice coated his arms. He was generating frost from his hands.

  This was my first time seeing an Admiral fight.

  The armor tried to impale him—and did—but the man’s torso fractured into ice, reforming instantly. He conjured a massive ice trident and drove it forward. It shattered uselessly.

  Garp followed with a world-shaking kick, denting the armor, but it repaired itself in seconds.

  “Damn it!” Garp barked. “Aokiji, I’m runnin’ outta steam! I ain’t as young as I used to be, y’know!”

  “You’re not alone there,” Aokiji muttered. “I’m running low myself.”

  Time was bleeding out fast.

  We needed that sword.

  Ace suddenly pointed.

  Wedged into a tree wall, half-buried in bark and splintered roots—

  The Holy King Dragon Sword.

  I sprinted for it, grabbed the hilt—

  —and nearly collapsed.

  The sword drank my chakra like it had been starving.

  It wasn’t a gentle pull; it was violent, indiscriminate, ripping at something deeper than muscle or bone.

  My vision swam as heat and cold tore through me at once, and for a terrifying moment, I thought it would take everything and leave nothing behind.

  At this rate, I’d last one minute.

  One chance.

  If I failed, Goa wasn’t just doomed—

  Everyone fighting for me would have died for nothing.

  Pressure crushed down on me.

  Then something warm closed over my hands.

  I looked—but no one was there.

  Still, I felt them.

  Luffy.

  Sabo.

  Kurama.

  All the people who had carried me to this point.

  All the people who died because of me.

  I couldn’t let them down.

  I raised the sword—

  —and screamed.

  The slash tore the battlefield apart.

  Light erupted.

  Garp and Aokiji dodged.

  The armor took the blow directly and shattered, the impact ripping it backward through a distant mountain.

  For the first time, it didn’t reform cleanly—cracks of unstable energy crawling across its surface like wounds that refused to close.

  Garp charged in with another of his monstrous “punches of love,” the strike landing squarely in the fractured core.

  The remaining pieces detonated outward, scattered and lifeless, as if whatever cursed will drove them had finally been beaten out of existence.

  And just like that—

  The Goa Disaster ended.

  Or… so it seemed.

  Because right after releasing the attack, my consciousness slipped.

  My vision dimmed.

  My legs gave out.

  And I wasn’t sure what fate waited for me next.

  Sword Art Online, and I’m currently on Chapter 4 of Volume 11. I’m getting through it slowly but surely.