Three blood-forged blades suddenly pierced Whitebeard's shoulders from behind. They came from the very warriors who had fallen into the rift earlier, now inexplicably reformed, launching a desperate ambush.
Whitebeard grunted heavily, his massive frame trembling as he retaliated. With a sweep of raw force, he shattered his attackers into fragments. Yet when he turned, Ritter had already melted back into the mist, vanishing from sight.
By now, Whitebeard had lost all sense of time.
The blood moon still hung overhead, though he no longer knew how many enemies he had cut down. His breathing grew ragged. Around his feet, mountains of samurai corpses piled high, yet the invasive blood mist gnawed at his body, slowing him down more and more.
"Damn brat..." Whitebeard wiped the blood from his lips, his voice rumbling low. "This technique of yours is a bottomless pit."
From within the fog came Ritter's voice, strained and uneven with fatigue.
The truth was clear: the proper move now would be to expand his mist and draw stamina from the environment. But here, surrounded only by allies, there was no fuel to absorb.
First day of missing the Celestial Dragons, huh?
Maintaining a realm of this size was already pushing his limits. Even with Blumarine and Whitebeard feeding him strength, it was barely enough. Whitebeard was stingy with his contribution, and Ritter cursed it under his breath.
But Ritter was Ritter the most shameless rascal of the seas. Despite his exhaustion, his words came out with teasing mockery.
"What's wrong, Pops? The world's strongest man is scared of running out of breath?"
"Scared?" Whitebeard suddenly surged with power. His naginata glowed with the dark red of Conqueror's Haki, overlapped with the quake-quake force. With a bellow, he unleashed a storm of strikes into the void.
"Heaven-Splitting Dance!"
The sky itself cracked apart like shattered glass, the blood moon exploding into fragments. The entire blood prison realm began to fracture. For a moment, Whitebeard thought he had broken free
Until the world shifted again.
He now stood atop an endless ocean of blood. Ritter strode across the crimson waves, a colossal tide rising behind him like a wall of death.
"You think you can break my world and I'll just sit by?" Ritter lifted his sword, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his temples. "Come on, old man. Let's keep going."
For the first time, Whitebeard's expression changed. His mouth twisted in grim amusement. "This cursed place... it has no end, does it?"
The blood sea boiled. Whitebeard cut and cut, until his body moved only on instinct. His pristine white coat had long since been stained a dark, clotted red.
He finally sank to one knee on the waves, planting his naginata before him like a pillar.
And then he chuckled. "Gurararara... brat, I've realized something amusing."
Ritter's form shimmered above the blood tide, his voice hoarse. "Oh? Let's hear it."
Truthfully, Ritter was beyond exhaustion. Every word felt like a weight. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into Whitebeard and drain him dry. If only he could stick straws into him thick ones, too. The old man's energy wasn't nearly enough.
"You call this trick your 'Blood Prison Scroll,' right?" Whitebeard's eyes blazed with renewed fighting spirit as he rose. "It's not just an illusion. You've pulled me into your world and are twisting my thoughts every moment. Most likely, I've been swinging at nothing but air."
Ritter's pupils contracted.
"That first strike you landed..." Whitebeard tapped the scar on his calf. "That was the real key. The deeper the wounds, the more real your illusion becomes. Isn't that right, brat?"
Before Ritter could answer, Whitebeard's aura erupted. His Conqueror's Haki roared skyward. The quake-quake power no longer spread outward but compressed into his naginata, like the very world was being packed into its blade.
"Now watch closely... this is what it means to be the strongest!"
"Divine Quake!"
Whitebeard's strike no longer sent a shockwave. It ripped open a pure rift in space itself, like reality splitting apart. Even after such a drawn-out battle, he could still muster this level of power. He was ready to gamble everything.
If the mist vanished, Whitebeard had full confidence he could take Ritter down within a day. But inside this world, the longer it dragged on, the more certain his loss became.
The blood prison cracked apart like torn parchment. Ritter's blade hovered before Whitebeard's chest then halted. He let it drop, unwilling to cripple the legend in such a state.
Both collapsed onto the ruined island their battle had destroyed.
Whitebeard lay flat, laughing through heavy breaths. "Gurararara! That was glorious!"
Ritter sprawled beside him, not even a finger able to move. "Old man... you figured it out long ago, didn't you?"
"The first strike you landed hit harder than the rest. That told me everything. One blow had to succeed, otherwise your world couldn't hold."
Whitebeard sat up, panting, his chest rising like a bellows. "Breaking free took everything I had. Honestly, I wasn't even sure it would work. Brat, your move is a nasty one."
He grinned, a predator acknowledging another predator. "But I lost, and I've no shame admitting it. At the end, you even held back."
This wasn't the battered, dying Whitebeard of Marineford. This was his prime, the Whitebeard of legend the UR card version, unscarred and unbroken.
"Still, it seems your ability could use some refining."
The two men turned their heads, locking eyes. A silent understanding passed between them.
Whitebeard suddenly bellowed, "Boys! Time for a feast!"
The bonfire crackled, its sparks rising into the night sky. The smell of roasted sea beast meat and spiced rum filled the air. Whitebeard's men and Ritter's strange companions bustled together, carrying barrels of drink and platters of food across the ruined shore.
Marco and Stella knelt beside the two titans, patching their wounds. The phoenix's flames danced as they knit flesh back together.
As he worked, Marco couldn't stop muttering like a nagging mother. "Honestly, both of you. At your age, still brawling like hot-blooded rookies..."
"Gurarara!" Whitebeard roared with laughter, ruffling Marco's pineapple-shaped hair.
"Look at him, son. That brat was raised by Roger himself! One day he'll surpass even that man. I count myself lucky to have fought him in my prime. Too bad he hasn't reached his peak yet."
On Ritter's side, Stella gently wiped blood from his face, her healing fruit working to close the worst of his wounds.
Nearby, Tesoro stood with a bowl of steaming broth, shaking his head in exasperation. "Captain, if only you put this kind of energy into your paperwork..."
"Tesoro, spare me your sermons!" Ritter groaned, thrashing his head like a child refusing vegetables. "I can't even hold a spoon right now, and you're talking about files? You're the devil!"
Perona floated overhead, her eyes sparkling. "Ritter-sama, you're amazing!"
Whitey Bay sipped her wine with a graceful smile. "Though I must admit, that final 'Divine Quake' was magnificent. The old man still has the edge."
Perona puffed her cheeks like a bun, floating closer. "Hmph! Ritter-sama can still eat apples while sitting up! That means he won!"
Whitey Bay chuckled softly. "Little one, Pops is sitting and drinking too, you know."
"Wha !" Perona flailed, then zipped to Ritter's side, pointing accusingly. "Ritter-sama, she says you lost!"
Ritter and Whitebeard exchanged glances at the absurd quarrel, both breaking into tired grins. Ritter ruffled Perona's hair. "Silly girl. There'll be plenty more chances to fight Pops again."
At that moment, Thatch appeared with a platter of roasted meat, his grin wide. "Ladies, care to try my special recipe? Hot off the fire!"
Ritter flicked a wisp of blood mist that smacked Thatch squarely before fading away.
Thatch chuckled, taking it as a joke. "Relax, Ritter! Yours is coming. I'll make it extra juicy, promise!"
Ritter smirked.
Whitey Bay accepted her portion politely. "Thank you. It smells wonderful."
Perona's eyes lit up. "Wow! And it even has little skull decorations carved into it! So cute!"
Thatch puffed up proudly. "Carved from radishes, just for charming young ladies like you."
Further back, Izo clinked cups with Tesoro, both watching the chaos unfold by the fire.
"Ritter's insane," Izo muttered.
Tesoro chuckled. "Takes one to know one."
The flames danced higher, illuminating faces filled with laughter and song. Two crews, once strangers, now feasted together beneath the night sky.
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