Even though Whitebeard had already recognized Michael's terrifying talent…
He was still shocked by the speed of his learning.
That last slash was undeniably at a level that demanded his full respect.
Had he still been using the same restrained power from earlier, he would have been wounded by that strike.
Maybe not a serious injury, but a wound nonetheless!
It had been so long since anyone had left a mark on him!
After that strike, Whitebeard fell silent for a long moment before finally bursting into laughter:
"Gurararara! Terrifying! Absolutely terrifying! I've never taken such a liking to a Marine before."
"I mean it—leave the Marines, become my son… no, become my successor! Inherit everything the Whitebeard Pirates stand for!"
"Eh—!?"
Whitebeard's words left not only his division commanders and crewmates dumbfounded but also Garp, who had been watching from afar, utterly stunned.
A successor.
This wasn't just an invitation for Michael to join the Whitebeard Pirates.
This was entrusting him with the entire future of the crew!
Admittedly, for a brief moment, Michael was genuinely tempted.
After all…
The Whitebeard Pirates themselves consist of sixteen divisions, each with around a hundred members—totaling about sixteen hundred elite fighters, the cream of the crop.
Apart from Marco, who's a slightly embarrassing right-hand man for an Emperor, the other division commanders all possess combat abilities at least on par with elite Vice Admirals.
Not to mention the dozens of subordinate pirate crews, bringing the total to around thirty or forty thousand!
Honestly, that's practically equivalent to acquiring a fully organized army!
With just a bit of discipline training, they could be battlefield-ready!
But the temptation only lasted for a fleeting moment.
After all, compared to other pirates, the Whitebeard Pirates are far too laid-back.
They have the strength, but they might not truly align with his ideals.
Even if bonds were nurtured over time, differing paths would ultimately lead to parting ways.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Forget it. Though I lost my parents early too, I recently found my long-lost elder sister… I'm hardly lacking in love," Michael shrugged.
"And as for becoming your son… Aren't you worried old man Sengoku might come after you? Still, considering all you've taught me just now, I might consider burning some paper offerings for you after you die."
As he finished speaking…
Both men simultaneously flashed predatory grins.
"From the sound of it… you're saying you'll burn paper for me after you kill me, huh?"
"That depends on your next decision."
As Michael spoke, the Holy Light armor gradually receded.
His Marine uniform became visible once more.
He had completely deactivated his combat state.
"What's wrong, kid? Scared?"
"If I were scared, who was it that nearly chopped off your beard just now?" Michael scoffed.
"I'm no match for you right now, and this isn't the right place for an all out battle."
The moment Michael said this, the division commanders, who had been riled up by the earlier exchanges, suddenly realized the gravity of the situation, their faces paling.
Right—this was Fish-Man Island, fuck.
No matter how strong a fighter was, the ultimate outcome here would be mutual destruction.
Michael, who had even retracted his wings, cracked his neck as if the intense clash with Whitebeard had never happened.
His calmness was almost excessive.
Seeing Michael like this, Whitebeard raised an eyebrow, his desire to continue the fight fading.
But the name Angel D. Michael was now firmly etched in his mind.
"...Seems our battle will have to wait for the future."
Whitebeard turned and waved at Marco.
Taking the hint, Marco signaled his men to open the encirclement, allowing the Marines to leave.
"Whew, thank you for the rescue, Rear Admiral Michael."
"...Don't thank me yet. Just promise me you'll use your brains from now on and stop emulating that old geezer Garp's bad habits. That's all I ask."
No sooner had Michael spoken than he felt a violent gust of fist wind rushing toward his back.
He tilted his head slightly, effortlessly dodging it.
Garp, having stopped his attack, strode forward with the other Marines.
"Hmph! You've improved quite a bit these past two years, huh?"
"Save it. Train them all you want, but don't pass on your personal bad habits to these soldiers. Do they have the physique to handle the consequences like you do?"
Whitebeard watched as Michael half-teased and half-lectured Garp.
Though Garp wore a defiant expression on his face, he didn't react at all to Michael's behavior—as if he had already grown accustomed to it and silently accepted it.
"Is this how all you D's are—so wildly unpredictable?" Whitebeard gripped his Murakumogiri, speaking to Garp.
"You're the Marine's hero, yet you just let your subordinate scold you like this?"
"I don't mind. What's it to you pirates?" Garp cracked his knuckles.
"What, after all these years, you itching for a taste of my fists again? Want to go another round?"
Seeing the sparks about to fly between Whitebeard and Garp, Michael stepped right between them with a smile and said.
"The fighting's over. Now it's time for some brain-to-brain action."
"Whitebeard, did you come here to bring Fish-Man Island under your protection?"
"What if I did?"
"After that last fight, you should've realized—even though I'm just a rear admiral, I'm someone who can actually make things happen." Michael extended a hand toward Whitebeard.
"So, how about a little cooperation? Nothing to do with the World Government—just a private deal between the Marines and the Whitebeard Pirates."
"Cooperation? You, a Marine want to work with the Whitebeard Pirates?" Whitebeard's face twisted into a sneer.
"I don't do partnerships. With anyone!"
"Pfft. you're old as fuck and still full of it. Weren't you 'cooperating' with Charlotte Linlin back in the Rocks Pirates? What about Shiki and Wang Zhi?" Michael scoffed at Whitebeard's bravado.
"Besides, this three-way deal benefits everyone—the Marine, the Whitebeard Pirates, and all of Fish-Man Island. With both the Marines and your crew backing them, the island would have an unshakable shield."
"Gurararara! I'm no saint! Why the hell should I do any of this?"
"Cut the act, old man. You can't stand seeing a friend's homeland in ruins, but your pride won't let you admit it, huh?"
Michael shot Whitebeard a look of utter disdain.
Keep pretending.
He was clearly here to help because of his ties to Neptune, yet he had to make it seem like some grand invasion.
"So? Do you agree or not?"
------------------------------
Read 40 chapters ahead and support me on patreon.
patreon (.)com/Newbietranslator