ONE PIECE: KAIDO'S SON

  "It's useless!"

  Seeing Ragnar extinguish his flames with a mere gesture, Ace's pupils shrank into pinpoints. His body tensed, instincts flaring with a warning he hadn't felt in years.

  Before he could respond, Ragnar exhaled.

  "Samadhi Fire."

  A golden blaze roared from his mouth. It wasn't just hot—it was divine. The air warped around it, twisting reality, turning even Kaido's iron fortress walls molten in the background.

  Ace recoiled. The orange flames he summoned instinctively shriveled before the golden blaze, shrinking back as if scorched by a superior will.

  "You... you can also control fire?" Ace stammered. Then his pride ignited.

  "I'm Portgas D. Ace, the man who inherited the will of Gol D. Roger and the Flame-Flame Fruit! You think some glowing torch can match me?!"

  He roared and unleashed a massive spinning ring of flame.

  "Flame Ring: Fire Pillar!"

  A towering vortex of fire spiraled forth, its searing winds melting the battlefield. Yamato, watching from the distance, braced herself as heat rolled over her like ocean waves.

  But the moment Ace's flame touched the Samadhi Fire—it evaporated.

  No explosion. No clash. Just... annihilation.

  The golden fire consumed it.

  Ace's jaw dropped.

  "...What kind of fire is this...?"

  He blinked and summoned two burning spears.

  "Divine Fire: Ignition Lances!"

  The twin spears, reinforced by Haki, zipped forward. They struck Ragnar's chest directly.

  Clang!

  Instead of flesh, it was like striking divine metal. Sparks exploded. The spears bent and bounced off.

  Ragnar didn't even flinch. His gaze remained skyward.

  Ace's breathing quickened.

  "This has to be a dream… No flame… no weapon… no man has ever resisted my fire like this."

  Gripping his fists, his face twisted.

  "Then try this!" he roared.

  "Fire Gun!"

  Ace mimicked dual pistols, his fingers spewing out flaming bullets in rapid succession. A hundred rounds blazed across the battlefield.

  Yet Ragnar only stepped forward.

  Each step seemed casual—like a man walking through the falling cherry blossoms of Wano.

  And with each step, a bullet missed. Not deflected. Missed.

  "Missed…"

  "Missed again?!"

  Ace's eyes widened with disbelief. "Am I being mocked?"

  From Yamato's perspective, Ragnar was not dodging. His movement flowed like water, gliding through Ace's attacks with the detachment of a god.

  ...

Ace watched in disbelief as Ragnar casually strolled through a hail of bullets.

Each shot, accurately aimed, curved unnaturally midair—skirting around Ragnar as if repelled by an invisible force. No projectile touched him.

His eyes widened. Panic flared in his chest.

His breath grew ragged.

  "Why...?"

He had fought Logia users, Haki users, even admirals—but never someone like this.

Suddenly, Ragnar's calm voice sliced through the tension.

"Have you fired enough?"

  Click.

The searing flames dancing on Ace's fingertips flickered and died out, extinguished by the sheer pressure of the moment.

Ragnar hadn't raised a hand.

He simply stood there, calm, untouched.

Ace froze.

Like a puppet with its strings cut.

  "Why... why can't I hit you?"

His voice cracked—half disbelief, half fury.

It wasn't that he couldn't accept defeat.

But this wasn't defeat.

It was humiliation.

Ragnar hadn't fought him. He had toyed with him.

  "The power of a Devil Fruit cannot dominate the world," Ragnar said coolly.

  "Only Haki can stand above all."

That word.

"Haki..."

Ace's lips moved unconsciously.

His mind flashed back to the brutal training with Garp—fist to face, no mercy.

And more recently, Yamato's Thunder Bagua crashing against his ribs.

He clenched his fists, recalling the power behind those blows.

Then he noticed it—Ragnar's eyes scanning the battlefield.

  "What are you looking for?"

Ragnar didn't look at him.

"A weapon," he replied casually.

"Since you're here to challenge my father, it's only fair I use his style to deal with you."

Before Ace could speak again, Ragnar pulled out a miniature object from his coat.

A mace.

No, a toy mace—no bigger than a baby's palm.

Ragnar held it up with a blank expression.

"This was the first toy my old man gave me when I was born."

"Sorry... I don't have anything smaller."

His tone was mild. Indifferent. But it felt like a slap in the face.

Ace's lips curled into a snarl.

  "You...!"

Yamato, who had been watching from nearby, frowned deeply.

Even without future sight, his Observation Haki gave him a glimpse of what was coming.

  "This guy..." Yamato muttered, tightening his grip on the hilt of his kanabō.

  "His personality might be even worse than Kaido's."