One Piece: Ulquiorra Template

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Gin Ichimaru’s Bankai, Kamishini no Yari, possessed a deadly ability. Upon extending and retracting its blade, it could leave behind particles of ash within the opponent's body. These particles would then detonate, shredding the victim from within.

He had once used this technique against Sosuke Aizen, but the latter, empowered by the Hogyoku, had resurrected and swiftly countered, ending Gin’s life.

Thus, his career as a double agent, reminiscent of Itachi Uchiha, had come to an end. One, a serpent lurking in the shadows, the other, a raven cloaked in darkness.

Although Ian was merely mimicking Gin's technique using the Spring-Spring Fruit, it didn't hinder him from embedding a portion of his compressed spiritual pressure within Diamante before detonating it. If Mr. 5 could create explosions with his boogers and even the air itself, this was child's play for Ian.

The wind picked up, whipping the desert sand into a frenzy. Ian’s gaze shifted, his attention drawn towards Crocodile, the former Warlord of the Sea, standing off to the side.

He effortlessly deflected the shower of deadly debris with a combination of Hierro and Armament Haki, like Bartolomeo shielding himself from the Supernovas’ barrage. Did Diamante truly believe such an attack, one that had failed to even seriously injure Kyros, could harm him?

Diamante had clearly exhausted his arsenal, resorting to these pitiful, harmless tactics.

However, Ian’s Zanpakuto had returned Diamante's Devil Fruit power, the fluttering, yet steel-hard, soul of the Flag-Flag Fruit. It manifested as another Devil Fruit sapling within Ian, bringing his total to six.

The sapling had grown, now standing about a meter tall.

Crocodile observed Ian with a cold, calculating stare, a thin wisp of smoke trailing from the cigar clenched between his teeth.

“No wonder you’re so conceited,” he drawled, his voice as dry and rasping as the desert wind. “With such formidable power and a Mythical Zoan ability rivaling Kaido and Sengoku… It’s a shame you’ve become a lapdog for the World Government. Interested in joining my ranks? We can rule the world together.”

Crocodile emerged from the swirling sand, approaching Ian with a measured pace. “Besides,” he added casually, “Even a Vice Admiral has no authority to interfere in Warlord affairs.”

“Not my concern.” Ian’s response remained unchanged. He wouldn’t waste his breath explaining that the pursuit of ancient weapons was a fool’s errand.

Pluton, had likely rotted away centuries ago. Even if it still existed, constructing it would be a monumental undertaking. Robin's claim was nothing more than a ploy to secure protection. The Five Elders were undoubtedly watching her every move.

It was entirely possible that even if she obtained the blueprints in Water 7, the Five Elders would seize them, eliminate her, and consolidate their power. Crocodile was likely aware of this as well.

After all, he had challenged Whitebeard himself. He couldn’t possibly be so naive. Perhaps he harbored a sliver of hope, a faint possibility that Pluton remained intact and accessible. If the situation turned unfavorable, he could simply abandon his plans.

He knew he could always secure his safety. That was the privilege afforded by the Warlord title. As long as he didn’t possess Pluton, the World Government wouldn't touch him. Even the Marines tasked with observing him were likely aware of Robin’s true intentions.

A man who dared to orchestrate a coup and seek out an ancient weapon couldn’t possibly be lacking in intelligence.

Crocodile took a drag from his cigar, a sardonic smile spreading across his face. “You think you can do whatever you please with a bit of power? I’ve seen countless fools like you.”

As his words faded, Crocodile abruptly swung his arm. There was nothing left to say. It was time for action. He was a Logia-type Devil Fruit user, after all.

The sand beneath Crocodile’s feet rippled and surged outwards, the shattered earth transforming into fine grains, reshaping the environment to suit his needs.

A layer of dust and sand blanketed the surrounding area. In an instant, his eyes glinted with a predatory gleam, his right arm turning to sand as he lashed out at Ian.

A crescent-shaped sand blade materialized, slicing through the air with deadly intent. It wouldn’t sever flesh and bone, but it would drain all moisture from any living creature it touched.

Ian’s response was simple, yet devastating. He clenched his fist and met the oncoming attack head-on.

BOOM! The sand blade exploded upon impact, its dehydrating power dissipating before it could reach Ian.

The force of the explosion shielded him, while his spiritual pressure swiftly eradicated any lingering traces. He sighed.

After shattering Crocodile’s sand blade, Ian’s gaze hardened. “You’ve made your choice. Prepare to face the consequences.”

Crocodile wasn't surprised that Ian had deflected his attack. A man capable of defeating Gecko Moria wouldn’t be easily subdued.

They were both remnants of a bygone era, rivals who had challenged the reigning powers, Kaido and Whitebeard, and lost.

He slammed his hand into the ground.

Crack! Sand erupted from the earth, coalescing into four razor-sharp blades that shot towards Ian. If the newcomer wouldn’t yield, he would be eliminated here and now.

The Marines wouldn’t interfere, regardless of the outcome.

The loser had no voice.

Ian remained unfazed, effortlessly deflecting the incoming sand blades with a single swing of his Zanpakuto, unleashing a wave of sword energy that surged towards Crocodile.

Crocodile scoffed, his body instantly dissolving into sand.

He phased through the incoming sword pressure, believing himself to be untouchable. However, to his astonishment, the attack he had so confidently ignored pierced through his sand form, sending a jolt of pain through his chest and abdomen. The swirling sand faltered, collapsing into a harmless pile.

Crocodile’s clothes were torn, revealing a bleeding gash across his chest and abdomen.

“Impossible! How could you…?”

Disbelief and shock washed over Crocodile. He was a Logia-type, intangible and impervious to conventional attacks. Ian’s attack hadn't been imbued with Armament Haki, so he had confidently phased through it. Yet, his sand body had been injured.

He was unaware that Ian’s attacks carried a spiritual component, capable of affecting the soul. After all, in living beings, the soul and body were inextricably linked. As Crocodile reeled from the shock, Ian pressed his attack.

“Damn!” Crocodile’s expression darkened.

Even if Ian’s attacks were partially negated by his Logia powers, the remaining force was still significant, far beyond what he could withstand directly.

“Desert Spada!” Without hesitation, Crocodile spread his hand, summoning a swirling vortex of sand and wind that rose to meet Ian’s next sword strike.

BOOM! The sword pressure sliced through the outer layers of the sandstorm, but its momentum stalled, lost within the swirling chaos, like a child wandering through a vast desert. Ian swiftly detonated the embedded spiritual pressure within the sandstorm.

CRACK! A monstrous shockwave erupted, radiating outward in all directions, tearing the earth apart, leaving behind deep fissures that resembled sword slashes…

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Word Count [1232]

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To Be Continued..

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