Chapter 336: The Collapse of Invincibility!

The ultimate collision, powerful enough to destroy heaven and earth, finally began to subside amidst the rumbling.

The entire plaza was now unrecognizable, the violent discharge of energy having forcibly destroyed the area, turning it into what looked like a bottomless, massive meteorite crater.

The aftershocks of the space distortion had not yet fully dissipated, and the surrounding air remained searing and bone-chilling.

The thick smoke gradually thinned under the sea breeze, and from the deathly silent ruins, a crisp sound of shattering suddenly rang out.

"Crack... Crack..."

Katakuri's right arm, which had been transformed into a giant spear wrapped in the ultimate Haki, finally let out a mournful cry of being overburdened under the absolute strangulation of Tatsuya's black blade and Amaterasu's black flames.

Accompanied by a dense network of cracks, the massive spiral lance shattered inch by inch.

Finally losing its power source, it turned into countless charred mochi crumbs, drifting in the wind like black snowflakes over the devastated battlefield.

At the center of that massive crater.

Katakuri's tall, upright frame was now covered in terrifying lacerations deep enough to see bone.

Tatsuya, relying on the unreasonable "Futsu-no-Mitama," had not only sliced through his strongest defense,

but had also delivered a destructive force that almost completely destroyed all signs of life within his body.

Scalding blood poured continuously from the hideous wounds, dripping onto the charred rocks and staining the earth beneath his feet a jarring dark red.

He gasped heavily for air; his stamina and Haki were like a dried-up well, unable to squeeze out even a single drop of strength.

This impeccable masterpiece of the Big Mom Pirates, this invincible man who had never once lain down in any battle and had always looked down on his enemies with a lofty, perfect posture.

At this moment, his legs finally began to shake uncontrollably and violently.

"Have I... reached the limit..."

With an almost inaudible, raspy murmur, the heartstrings Katakuri had kept taut finally snapped.

As if the last bit of strength supporting his body had been drained away, he could no longer sustain his broken frame.

That tall body, which resembled a towering fortress, fell straight backward.

Thud—!

Accompanied by a dull sound of impact.

Katakuri's broad back slammed heavily and tangibly against the rubble and stones.

His breathing grew weaker and weaker, and his vision gradually blurred, as if covered by a thick layer of mist.

The howling wind on the battlefield, the crashing waves in the distance, and the pungent smell of gunpowder all began to fade from his perception, peeling away from his senses like a receding tide...

His consciousness slowly sank, falling all the way into the deepest sea of memories.

There, the images he had deliberately forgotten began to grow clear.

It was Totto Land from a long time ago.

The sky over Totto Land was always sunny, and the colorful candy buildings glistened with an inviting luster under the sun, while the air was thick with a cloying sweetness.

A young Katakuri was hiding in a corner, unreservedly devouring his favorite donuts in large mouthfuls.

He wasn't wearing that heavy scarf, and he defenselessly revealed that terrifying mouth with fangs like a giant moray eel.

His mouth was covered in powdered sugar as he ate with great relish.

However, this simple joy was quickly shattered.

The unconcealed voices of horror and mockery from his peers and even adults came from the surroundings:

"Look! A monster!"

"Stay away from him! Look at his mouth, it's really disgusting!"

"How can someone look like that? He's a total freak!"

Those words, as sharp as knives, sounded particularly piercing under the sunlight.

But at that time, there was no gloom or self-deprecation in Katakuri's eyes, only the unyielding arrogance of a supreme genius.

He didn't care to explain himself to others, didn't care to hide his true self, and couldn't be bothered with the boring ridicule of the weak.

Facing those who courted death by coming close to provoke him or throw stones, he didn't even need to use the Devil Fruit ability he had recently consumed.

He simply stood up, clenched his small fists, and relied on his innate, terrifying monstrous strength to beat those bullies who dared mock him until they were bloodied, lost their teeth, and knelt on the ground crying for their parents and begging for mercy.

"The weak don't even have the right to mock me."

This was the only truth and creed the young Katakuri believed in as he brushed the dust off his hands.

He thought that as long as his fists were hard enough, he could be himself without restraint.

However, the memory took a sharp turn, arriving at the most painful scene of his life.

Those despicable bullies who had been severely disciplined by him yet were powerless to take revenge on the "monster" himself, turned their venomous gazes toward his young sister in their fear and humiliation.

That was the nightmare he could never escape for the rest of his life.

A cold rain began to fall.

The young Brulee lay on the muddy ground, her face covered in blood.

She clutched her face, letting out heart-wrenching wails.

On that originally innocent and lovely face, someone had cruelly carved a scar deep enough to see bone with a knife; it was a bloody, shocking mess.

"Brother... it hurts... Brulee hurts so much..."

Looking at his sister wailing in pain and sobbing incessantly on the hospital bed, a massive wave of guilt and piercing agony, like ten thousand ants biting his heart, almost completely consumed Katakuri.

Standing outside the hospital room door, he clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

In that moment, he finally reached a painful realization.

In this cruel world of pirates, his unreserved "unruliness" and incomplete "arrogance" had not brought true freedom.

It was like a double-edged sword that would only bring total disaster to the family he cherished most.

He hadn't been cold enough back then; he hadn't pulled those hidden threats out by the roots.

He had been too conceited and failed to protect his sister meticulously, allowing Brulee to suffer this cruel, unmerited disaster in his place.

As the images shifted, Katakuri stood quietly before a tall mirror.

Reflected in the mirror was that tear-stained face and that terrifying, split mouth.

On that day, the innocence and wildness of childhood in his eyes died completely.

He slowly picked up that heavy black scarf, wrapping it once, and then again.

He wound the scarf around his neck, pulling it high to cover the lower half of his face.

He sealed away that split mouth that would invite endless ridicule and trouble, his fanatical love for donuts, and the weak emotions deep within his heart, all beneath this heavy scarf.

From that day on, the carefree boy who loved to lie on the ground and eat donuts without restraint was gone.

In his place was the "masterpiece" of the Big Mom Pirates—forever cold and ruthless, forever powerful and undefeated, forever showing not a single flaw.

As long as he remained that perfect monster of a brother who inspired despair and terror.

As long as he remained so powerful that people didn't even dare to have the thought of resisting.

Then no one would ever dare to lay a hand on his younger brothers and sisters again.

He buried all his tenderness deep in the softest corner of his heart, using that impeccable mask of invincibility to hold up the upright spine of the entire Charlotte Family.

...

The revolving lantern of memories slowly dissipated like reflections in water, and the sensations of reality surged back into his heart.

Katakuri lay quietly on the broken earth, feeling the unprecedented cold sensation coming from his back.

He slightly opened his eyes, watching the dust fluttering down from the sky and the dim sky obscured by smoke.

At this moment, there was no fear of death in his eyes, nor any resentment at falling from the altar of the undefeated.

On the contrary, deep within those eyes that were about to lose their luster, a rare flash of relief and ease appeared.

"So... this is what it feels like to lie down."

He thought silently in his heart.

He was too tired.

Over the years, burdened by the heavy shackles of "perfection" and "invincibility," never daring to relax for a single moment, his soul had long since become exhausted.

Now, this heavy burden could finally be set down.

He slightly opened his blood-stained lips to the breeze filled with the scent of gunpowder.

"Sorry... Mama... Brulee..."

"This time, your brother... really can't get back up..."

He saw the smiling faces of his siblings, Mama's terrifying silhouette, and Brulee standing before a mirror, using her ability to reflect the appearance of another world.

That sister he had protected behind his back since they were young still had that scar on her face, yet she had never resented anyone for it.

She always said with a smile: "Brother, you are the gentlest person in the world."

Gentle, huh.

The corners of Katakuri's mouth moved; he seemed to want to smile, or perhaps say something.

He had hidden this tenderness for too long, hidden it until even he had almost forgotten it.

Those times spent alone in the donut room late at night, those brief moments of respite after taking off his scarf.

He had never spoken of it to anyone, nor did he ever intend for anyone to know.

Because a true guardian doesn't need to explain himself.

As long as they were safe, as long as the family stood tall, this lonely persistence had meaning.

His consciousness grew more and more blurred.

The sounds all around him vanished completely, and even the pain became distant.

In a daze, he seemed to see his younger self standing not far away—without a scarf, revealing that terrifying mouth, devouring a donut and grinning at him.

That boy said, "Hey, you've done enough. Rest now."

Katakuri's lips curled up as he slowly closed his eyes.

"You guys... you have to become... even stronger..."

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