"WAHHH! BOSS! YOUR LITTLE SISTER IS DESTROYING VICE-ADMIRAL GARP! BWAHAHAHAHA!" Gordo yelled, emboldened by the fact that he was still alive and the fight was going surprisingly well for their side.
"YEAH! GO VICE-BOSS! TAKE HIM DOWN!" Scalzo cheered, pumping his fist, momentarily forgetting the destruction of their home.
"Boss! She's… she's actually stronger than him, isn't she?!" Magra whispered to Dadan, his jaw still slack.
Dadan, despite her earlier wails of despair over her crumbling home, was now beaming, a ferocious, almost maniacal pride blazing in her eyes. "Stronger?! Course she's stronger, you fool! She's MY sister! Now shut up and enjoy the show!" She punched Magra lightly on the shoulder, a blow that sent him stumbling but kept him grinning.
Stronger than Garp? My mind analyzed. No. Not stronger. She's operating on a different wavelength. Her power isn't about raw destructive force like Garp's Haki-infused punches. It's about fundamental manipulation. Her Territory Magic is about control, re-routing, nullifying, and even repurposing. It's a precision scalpel against Garp's sledgehammer. She's not trying to overpower him; she's trying to outmaneuver and negate him. A completely different combat philosophy. And frankly, against someone who just tries to brute-force everything, it's incredibly effective.
Garp, apparently undeterred by having just punched himself with galaxy-level force, launched into another offensive. This time, he didn't use a named attack, but simply a flurry of incredibly fast, incredibly powerful punches, each one aimed at a different point, each one seeking to find a gap in her spatial defense. The clearing became a vortex of black haki-infused fists and shimmering, bending air. Dust, splintered wood, and displaced rock flew everywhere.
Minerva responded with a deadly grace. She shifted, flowed, and spun, always letting Garp's own momentum work against him. A punch would bend and cause Garp to overextend, leaving an opening for a swift, precise kick. A flurry of blows would find themselves reflected back, causing Garp to stumble or block his own attacks. She didn't often strike directly with physical force. Her attacks were subtle, invasive. An 'Eight-Gods Lightning Hammer' to the side, a 'Spatial Crush' aimed at a knee joint, a 'Reality Displacement' that made Garp's footing momentarily uncertain, causing him to land awkwardly and expose his back.
Each time, Garp would grunt, curse good-naturedly, or let out a delighted, booming laugh, clearly enjoying the challenge. But I could see the subtle shifts. He was being pushed. He was adapting. His Observation Haki, the ability to sense presences and predict movements, was working overtime, trying to anticipate the unpredictable warping of space. His Armament Haki was always active, a black sheen across his skin, protecting him from her internal attacks.
"You're a tricky one, Minerva-chan!" Garp yelled, ducking under a spatially redirected tree branch that suddenly slammed into the spot where his head had been. "Always messing with my rhythm!"
Minerva merely smiled. "The battlefield is not merely a place of blunt force, Vice-Admiral-san. It is a canvas of possibilities. A subtle shift can be more devastating than the mightiest blow." She moved, a blur of purple, and then appeared behind Garp, her slender hand raised. "Absolute Territory: Dimensional Shift."
The air around Garp's back rippled. He suddenly felt a profound sense of disorientation, as if the ground beneath him had vanished. His feet, which had been firmly planted, now seemed to float. It was a momentary, disorienting sensation, but it was enough.
Minerva seized the opening. Her hand, glowing with a faint, purple aura, connected with Garp's back. Not a punch, but a precise, focused strike. "Heavenly Spiral – Zero Zone!"
This was a direct, concentrated application of her spatial magic. Instead of crushing, it felt like an instant, total vacuum. Garp's lungs, in that split second, were emptied of air. His muscles stiffened, unable to react. He was momentarily trapped in a pocket of absolute nothingness, a void that stifled sound, light, and most importantly, breath.
Garp let out a strangled, choked gasp, his eyes bulging. His haki, usually an unbreakable shield, was utterly useless against an attack that manipulated the space within him. He was a fish plucked from water, gasping.
Minerva didn't let up. She followed with a series of impossibly fast, precise kicks, each one striking Garp's body with the force of a battering ram, each one amplified by her spatial magic, making them hit harder than they physically should have. She aimed for pressure points, for vulnerable joints, for areas where his haki might be thinner. She's aiming to cripple him, to put him down without killing him, I thought, captivated. This is a professional. She knows how to finish a fight.
Garp was sent stumbling back, wheezing, his massive frame momentarily unbalanced. His face was no longer grinning. It was set in a grimace of effort, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence from the bandits was absolute. Even Dadan was quiet, her eyes wide, watching with a mixture of fear and something akin to utter reverence.
"He's… he's actually struggling," Dogra whispered, his voice trembling.
"Minerva-sama… she's… she's incredible," Magra breathed, awe etched onto his confused features.
Garp, however, was not the Hero of the Marines for nothing. Even as he gasped for air, even as Minerva's precise kicks hammered against his body, he straightened, his eyes blazing with a fierce, almost primal resolve. His body, bruised but unbroken, began to radiate a new, terrifying intensity of Haki. It was no longer just a black sheen; it was an invisible, palpable pressure that pushed outwards, warping the very air around him, challenging Minerva's own spatial distortions.
"Impressive, Minerva-chan," Garp wheezed, drawing in a ragged breath that tasted of ozone and dust. "You almost had me there! But… a Marine Hero… doesn't go down that easy!"
He unleashed a burst of Conqueror's Haki, a sudden, oppressive wave of invisible force that slammed into the clearing. The less resilient bandits immediately slumped to the ground, unconscious, foam bubbling at their lips. Dogra and Magra, though tougher, swayed violently, fighting to remain upright, their eyes wide with fear. Even Dadan gasped, bracing herself, her formidable will fighting against the unconsciousness. I, in my baby body, felt a crushing weight, a profound sense of being utterly insignificant. My body tried to shut down, but my enhanced mind fought back, forcing my tiny lungs to draw breath, forcing my heart to pump. I wouldn't fall. Not now.
Minerva, however, remained unaffected. Her serene expression did not waver, though her elegant dress fluttered wildly in the invisible gale. She was too powerful, too disciplined to be swayed by a mere Haki burst.
Garp, having shaken off the disorientation, lunged forward one last time. This wasn't a technique; it was a desperate, all-out, no-holds-barred punch. His entire body, a living weapon honed over decades of relentless combat, poured every ounce of its terrifying strength into this single, final attack. His fist, glowing with the black, malevolent aura of advanced Armament Haki, was aimed not at Minerva, but at the ground around her.
"HAKAI NO KEN! (FIST OF DESTRUCTION!)" he roared, a guttural, primal sound ripped from his throat.
Minerva's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine surprise in their depths. She understood immediately. He wasn't aiming for her. He was aiming to destroy the ground she stood on, to rip apart her footing, to destabilize her Absolute Territory itself. It was a crude, brutal, but effective tactic.
She reacted instantly. Her hands moved, weaving complex, ethereal patterns in the air before her. The space around her, and the ground for several yards, seemed to twist and contort, forming an invisible, shimmering, protective sphere around her.
"Absolute Territory: Distorted Fortress!" she chanted, her voice tight with effort.
Garp's fist, the embodiment of raw destruction, slammed into the shimmering, spatially distorted barrier.
KAAAAAAAA-BLAMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!
The sound was a single, sustained, deafening roar, like a thousand thunderstorms condensed into one point. The very ground beneath them exploded. A massive section of the clearing, including the remains of the bonfire and parts of the bandit hut, simply vanished, vaporized into a swirling vortex of pulverized rock, superheated steam, and dust. A new crater, far deeper and wider than any before it, opened up where the fight had been. The air was ripped apart, the pressure wave violently slamming into the remaining standing trees, snapping them in half like twigs.
Dadan, Dogra, and Magra were thrown off their feet, tumbling backwards, screaming, as the remnants of their home shuddered and collapsed in a shower of splintered wood and dirt. Even my sturdy, chained-down crib groaned ominously, threatening to rip free from its moorings. I clung to the furs, my tiny body vibrating uncontrollably, my ears ringing with a sharp, piercing whine. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. From where? A burst blood vessel in my nose? My ears? I couldn't tell. I was alive, but shaken to my very core.
When the dust, thick and choking, finally began to settle, revealing the utterly devastated landscape, a stunned silence descended.
Garp stood at the edge of the new, colossal crater, panting heavily, his chest heaving. His white coat was now nothing but tattered rags, his face streaked with soot and grime, a small cut bleeding freely from his temple. He looked exhausted, but his eyes, though tired, still gleamed with satisfaction.
Minerva was still there. Standing at the very center of the crater, seemingly unharmed, her purple hair still perfect, her dress untouched by the dust or debris. But the shimmering, distorted barrier around her was flickering, unstable. And for the first time, a faint trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She looked… tired. Her breathing, though still even, was just a fraction heavier. Her calm, composed expression was still there, but her eyes held a new, deeper respect.
"Well done, Minerva-chan," Garp rasped, wiping a trickle of blood from his temple with the back of his hand, a triumphant grin slowly spreading across his face. "You really are a force of nature. Even for me… that was a struggle."
Minerva met his gaze, her dark eyes still sharp, despite the exhaustion. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "And you, Vice-Admiral-san," she replied, her voice soft, slightly strained, but still carrying that melodic quality. "Your brute force is… undeniably effective. An opponent who relies on simply breaking the world around them is difficult to counter." She wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, her movements still graceful, despite the lingering tremor.
The bandits, slowly picking themselves up from the debris-strewn ground, stared in utter disbelief. Their home was a ruin. The mountain itself seemed to have shifted. But their 'Vice-Boss' was still standing, and Garp, the legendary Marine, looked like he'd just been through a war.
Dadan, covered in dust and nursing a bruised elbow, stared at the two of them, her mouth hanging open. Her precious, rickety bandit hut was now little more than kindling and dust. But the pride in her eyes was undeniable. "They… they really… fought," she whispered, a strange, almost worshipful tone in her voice.
Garp chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He looked at Minerva, then at the devastated clearing, then at the terrified, huddled bandits. "Guess I got a little carried away, eh?" he said, scratching his head. "Looks like you'll have to build a new house, Dadan! GAHAHAHA!"
Dadan let out a strangled groan that was half fury, half exasperation. "YOU OLD FOOL! YOU DESTROYED IT ALL! MY HOUSE! MY WINE CELLAR!"
Minerva, ignoring Dadan's renewed wails, simply watched Garp, her dark eyes still holding that cool, assessing gleam. "Perhaps," she said, her voice carrying across the crater, "a draw for today, Vice-Admiral-san."
Garp nodded, his grin returning in full force. "A draw it is! For today!"
The air was still thick with dust and the smell of pulverized earth. The silence, broken only by Dadan's whimpers about her wine cellar and the groans of the recovering bandits, was profound.
I, Ann, lay in my slightly cracked crib, my small body trembling from the residual shockwaves, a faint metallic taste in my mouth. I had just witnessed two titans clash, a symphony of destruction and spatial distortion. And I, a one-year-old baby, had survived it.
My Frieza-race genetics were screaming. Not in pain, but in a low, hungry thrum, a subtle demand from the cells themselves. Growth. Power. Adapt. Learn. The destruction around me, the sheer scale of the power displayed, acted as a catalyst. My body, absorbing the overwhelming stress, the near-death experience of the concussive force, was attempting to respond. A faint warmth, like liquid fire, began to spread through my tiny limbs.
My internal voice, however, was already planning. This is what I need to aim for. Not just strength, but control. Not just power, but precision. And that pocket dimension… I need to figure that out. Fast. Because if this is a 'friendly spar,' I'm terrified to imagine what a real fight looks like.
The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, casting the mountain in an ethereal, fading twilight. Garp stood, looking strangely content amidst the ruin he had wrought. Minerva stood opposite him, her elegant form framed against the twilight, a faint, almost imperceptible aura of exhaustion clinging to her.
And in the silence, Dadan's voice, raspy with defeat, echoed through the ruined clearing, a single, exasperated question aimed at the two of them: "Now what are we supposed to sleep in tonight, you morons?!"