Luffy was no longer a man. He was a titan of obsidian rubber, his skin a sheen of armament Haki. His torso was a barrel of coiled muscle, his arms laced with intricate, tribal patterns of pure, hardened will. His hair flamed up, wreathed in the same steam as his body. He was half again as tall as Doflamingo, but his legs were lean, his feet tapping the ground with a rhythmic, terrifying thump-thump-thump .
Luffy didn't answer. He just tilted his head, a low, animalistic growl rumbling from his chest. He raised one fist. It wasn't a punch. It was a catapult . His entire arm, from the shoulder down, sank into his own bicep, coiling, condensing, storing impossible kinetic energy. luffy gear 4 episode
He bit his thumb.
It wasn't a desperate heave. It was a slow, deliberate shift . A low, guttural growl echoed, not from Luffy’s throat, but from the earth itself. Luffy knelt on one knee, his head bowed. His body was steam, his skin a deep, angry crimson. He wasn't panting. He was breathing . Each inhale was a cyclone; each exhale, a furnace blast. Luffy was no longer a man
His arm didn't just swell. It distorted . The bone, the muscle, the very concept of his rubber body screamed as he forced his Haki—the hardened will of the conqueror—into his musculature. It wasn't air he was inflating. It was his resolve . His hair flamed up, wreathed in the same steam as his body
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