The Battle Was Done.
At least, so it appeared.
Solian was kneeling, his body battered and bruised. His eyes were blurring in and out of focus. His lip was torn, his ribs hurt like they were shattering, and every breath was agony.
And in front of him, standing untouched, was Cain.
"You're done," Cain said, rolling his shoulders. His stance was rigid, like he wasn't even trying anymore. "You're tough, I'll give you that… but you're not in my league."
Solian clenched his teeth. Not in his league?
His fingertips dug into the wooden decking as he forced himself to stay on his feet. His body screamed at the requirement to stay down. To quit.
But he couldn't.
His crew was still fighting.
And currently—they were losing.
Jorin was bleeding, his fire weakening against Syla's speed.
Drayce was being pummeled, every one of Roland's attacks pushing him back.
Kael was flailing, his Rust move being blocked every time he tried to use it.
Vance was winded, Gideon's brute strength overwhelming his Recoil Fruit.
They were outmatched.
And Solian?
He was losing too.
Cain moved forward. "I'll grant you credit, Solian Flare. Not many have endured this long against me."
Step.
"However, this is the end."
Cain raised his fist.
Solian tried to move—but his body would not.
Damn it!
Cain swung.
BAM!
Solian's head recoiled as the punch connected with his face. His body flew backward, sliding across the deck until he slammed into the railing of the ship.
He felt himself losing consciousness.
No. No. No.
Was this it?
Was this where he lost?
After all this?
No.
NO.
Something inside of him stirred.
A deep, primitive strength—something he'd never felt before.
It burned in his chest, but it wasn't his Solar Rift powers.
This was something different.
Something old.
Something more.
Cain came closer to him. "You were never strong enough to go against me. Accept it."
Solian's hands tightened against the wood.
His breathing leveled out.
His heart pounded.
And then—
BOOM.
A pressure burst outward from his body.
Cain stopped dead in his tracks.
His eyes widened.
The air itself had altered.
A sudden, overwhelming presence filled the battlefield.
The weaker Crimson Reaver pirates—the minions—suddenly collapsed without warning. Their eyes rolled back, their bodies crashing onto the deck like dolls.
Even some of the stronger fighters wobbled.
Jorin, Drayce, Kael, and Vance all felt it too—the abrupt overwhelming pressure washing over them.
Syla stumbled, her dagger hand shaking.
Mikhail's cutlasses trembled in his hands.
Roland's eyes narrowed. "What… is this?"
Even Gideon, who had been gaining the upper hand in his fight with Vance, took a step back. "What the hell is this pressure?!"
And Cain—for the first time—looked shocked.
"Impossible."
The air crackled with unseen energy.
Solian stood up.
His eyes were darkened, his expression impassive. His body was still bruised, still bloody—but his presence was changed.
The air vibrated around him.
His eyes locked onto Cain.
And for the first time since the fight started—Cain felt something.
Not anger.
Not confidence.
Not amusement.
Fear.