"You ask me how it's possible?"
Ragnar's eyes narrowed, flashing with the sharpness of a blade as he gazed at King's astonished expression.
"Then let me ask you — when did you start believing you could cut me?"
King's face darkened.
"You're strong, I won't deny it. But don't compare yourself to BIG MOM. Her body might be tough, but she still bleeds."
"You're right," Ragnar replied coldly, "But she's not me. And you'd best not mistake my Vajra Body for some bloated Yonko defense. There may be someone in this sea who can shatter me…"
His eyes glinted like lightning.
"…but it's not you, King."
Ragnar reached up, seizing the blade resting on his shoulder with his bare hand. Sparks flew as the sword scraped against his palm — yet his grip did not waver.
A moment later, his arm lit up — five twisting ropes of white lightning coiled around it, each crackling like divine wrath.
Black tendrils of Conqueror's Haki burst from his body, coiling with the white arcs of pure lightning, and the sky itself split open.
Behind him, a thunderous aura surged into being — a vague but overwhelming silhouette, shaped like a winged thunder god holding a chisel of divine judgment.
The aura flared.
"Thunder Deity: Vajra Avatar!"
Ragnar's fist thundered forward, his Haki-infused blow amplified by the crashing force of his thunder spirit.
King's eyes widened — and then his chest caved in under the titanic strike.
With a sound like a collapsing mountain, the force of Ragnar's attack erupted. Conqueror's Haki tore through the clouds, and rings of black and white lightning spread from the impact like ripples in a shattered world.
Onigashima itself quaked violently. The sky turned white. The clouds split open.
When the dust settled, what remained was a crater over 300 meters wide — and at its center stood Ragnar, cloaked in drifting arcs of residual lightning, utterly unharmed.
Of King, there was no trace.
No one dared speak. Not the Tobi Roppo. Not the Queen. Not even the giants who had once cheered Kaido's name.
"Who else wants to test me?"
Ragnar's voice rolled like distant thunder, low and commanding. His third eye flicked open, its vertical slit scanning the battlefield with divine judgment.
"Speak now — who agrees? Who opposes?"
After sweeping his sharp gaze across the crowd, Ragnar noticed that no one dared to meet his eyes. Not even a single warrior lifted their head. The coldness in his expression finally began to recede, ever so slightly.
Silence spread like wildfire across Onigashima.
The oppressive stillness was suffocating. Every heartbeat seemed amplified in the eerie quiet that blanketed the battlefield.
Then suddenly—
"I agree!"
"I agree too!"
The ones who spoke first were the siblings—Page One and Ulti—the earliest to challenge Ragnar when he appeared. Their voices trembled slightly, not from shame, but from the weight of realization.
"I don't object," Queen muttered with a forced grin, but then immediately felt a suffocating pressure—Ragnar's gaze slicing toward him like a blade. His grin cracked.
"I agree!" he quickly added, bowing his head.
"I agree!"
"We agree!"
One by one, voices echoed across the battlefield.
The other members of the Tobi Roppo—Black Maria, Sasaki, Who's-Who—and even the remaining Numberers and Headliners, all lowered their heads in acknowledgment. The once-boisterous elite of the Beasts Pirates had no more fight left in them.
There was no other choice.
This man—no, this force of nature—had descended upon Onigashima like a divine calamity. In mere moments, Ragnar had toppled the mighty Three Calamities. Jack the Drought had fallen. Queen the Plague was beaten into submission. And even King—the strongest of Kaido's All-Stars—had been forced into hiding.
Though a few key members had yet to engage him directly, it no longer mattered. Power speaks, and Ragnar had spoken louder than anyone ever had.
That was enough to crown him not just the Prince of Beasts, but the unchallenged Ruler of Onigashima.
Suddenly—
BOOM!
A loud crack tore through the silence as the ground about 300 meters from Ragnar exploded open. Rubble scattered into the air.
From the smoking crater, a bloodied hand emerged—clawed fingers trembling.
The battlefield froze.
Gasps swept across the crowd as King the Wildfire—his Lunarian wings tattered, armor shattered, and the metal mask on his face cracked down the middle—crawled out of the dirt.
His once-pristine cape was in tatters. His obsidian skin was bruised and scorched. Yet, his eyes—still burning with a flickering flame—locked onto Ragnar with unyielding resolve.
The Beast Pirates dared not speak.
Everyone understood—this wasn't over yet.