I Think, I Understand What's Going On!

A single sword strike cleaved through two round-headed old stars, their bodies splitting cleanly into four pieces. Yet, almost instantly, the severed sections morphed—shifting like liquid clay—into four distinct figures, each a perfect replica of the original.

Finn narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening on the immortal sword. "Interesting," he muttered, his tone betraying only a sliver of surprise.

"Did I not tell you?" one of the round-headed figures sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I can split infinitely. Each version of me retains the full power of the original. No matter how strong you are, in the end, I will grind you down."

Finn didn't respond. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he blurred forward, the immortal sword flashing with lethal precision. One strike carved through yet another old star, slicing him into three distinct pieces. The severed parts writhed for a moment before reforming into three identical figures.

"You see now?" one of the clones taunted. "Your efforts are futile. No matter how you cut me, you only create more opponents."

The battlefield was soon flooded with six identical figures, their laughter echoing ominously as they surrounded Finn. The assembled Marines watching from afar felt dread tightening their chests.

"Finn! Don't let him keep splitting!" shouted Sengoku, his voice strained with urgency. "This ability is limitless unless you uncover its secret!"

Vice Admiral Crane added, her tone sharp, "He's aiming to overwhelm you through sheer numbers!"

As the six clones attacked in unison, Finn's body tensed. Their speed and coordination were leagues beyond their earlier attempts. Each blow, augmented with top-tier Haki, carried the strength to shatter mountains.

But Finn was ready.

"Eight Gates... open!"

A brilliant aura erupted from Finn, his muscles surging with unrelenting energy. His entire frame radiated power, top-tier Armament Haki rippling around him in dense, horned waves.

The six clones closed in, their combined strikes like a relentless storm. Yet Finn stood his ground, moving with precision and grace. His hands blurred, deflecting and countering every strike in a seamless, flowing motion.

The Marines watching from the sidelines gasped in awe.

"He's... holding them off?" someone murmured.

"This isn't just strength," another whispered. "It's mastery."

Even the round-headed old stars faltered momentarily, their attacks failing to breach Finn's flawless defense. One of them snarled, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Impressive, but pointless! You can't keep this up forever!"

Finn's lips curved into a confident smile. "Who said I'm just defending?"

In the next instant, Finn vanished, reappearing behind one of the clones. The immortal sword in his hand sang as it slashed through the air, severing the clone cleanly in two. He moved again, striking down another clone before it could react.

Each fallen clone dissolved into fragments, reforming into additional copies—but Finn's movements were deliberate, calculated.

"I see now," Finn said, his voice low but steady, as he landed amidst the growing crowd of round-headed old stars. "It's not infinite. There's a limit to how much you can split, isn't there?"

The original round-headed old star flinched, his sneer faltering for the first time.

Finn raised his sword, its energy crackling like a storm. "Let's find out just how far that limit goes."