"Pops, so that's how it is," Teach said grimly as he returned to Whitebeard's side. "The Navy's mobilizing. Massive movement. They're coming for us."
Whitebeard's face didn't flinch, but his grip on his bisento tightened.
"What?" he growled. "The Navy dare aim their cannons at us?"
A murmur of tension rippled through the crew.
"They've sent over thirty thousand men," one commander muttered. "With the nearby warships, we're looking at close to forty thousand. We're not afraid to fight—but we're not ready to lose family either."
Heavy silence settled. Each man bore the weight of loyalty on their shoulders. They were pirates, yes, but more than that—they were sons.
Whitebeard looked around, eyes fierce but full of love. Then, he let out a hearty, rumbling laugh that cracked through the tension like thunder.
"Gura-ra-ra-ra! My children, I'd rather run than see even one of you fall. We'll avoid this one."
He stood tall, his enormous frame blocking the sun behind him. His presence alone was a mountain—unchallenged, unmovable.
Teach, watching Whitebeard's decision unfold, stepped forward, a glint in his eye.
"Since they're playing dirty, we don't need to play nice either," he said, voice low, sharp like drawn steel. "Those three vice admirals? We will offer their heads as a welcome gift to Sengoku."
Gasps of realization and silent nods followed.
"We may not match them in numbers," Teach continued, "but we'll bleed them from the shadows. Strike hard, vanish. No entanglement. We weaken their army before they ever reach us."
"And if we don't fight head-on, Pops can't get boxed in," added Vista, arms folded, sword resting on his shoulder. "His power… if unleashed properly from a distance? Warships are nothing but floating coffins."
Teach tied his wild hair up and wrapped a black skull-patterned turban around his head. His smile was wide—and wicked.
"You're sinister as hell, Teach," laughed Whitey. "But I like it."
The others chuckled, tension easing slightly. But everyone knew—this plan was ruthless.
There would be no grand battle. Only slaughter. And Whitebeard's reputation might not escape unscathed.
But the old man smiled.
"Gura-ra-ra! I'll give Sengoku something to remember. Let the Navy tremble."
His booming laugh shook the deck.
"Father!" someone called out, choked with emotion. "You're… you're incredible."
"Gura-ra-ra! Don't let 'em catch you slippin', boys. Go wild!"
Cheers erupted. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, Whitebeard's presence rallied their hearts.
"Teach, you pulled through this time," a crewmate clapped his shoulder. "If not for you, we'd be knee-deep in losses."
Teach rubbed his head sheepishly, grinning. "Heh, but without the old man's power, this wouldn't work at all."
Deep inside, Teach's thoughts wandered. There was no gold, no jewels in Whitebeard's hoard—only the Devil Fruits. Rare, volatile, and priceless. Every one of them had to be earned. And he wanted them—desperately.
As the first clash began, the ocean erupted.
Boom!Boom!Boom!
Cannon fire roared. Warships trembled. The ocean churned as steel hulls split and gushed saltwater.
Vice Admiral Thomson's warship was swallowed by the sea, taking his body and his pride with it.
"Thomson's life card… it's gone." Vice Admiral Tsuru stared at the burnt ashes in her palm.
Sengoku closed his eyes. Breathed deeply. His jaw clenched with restrained emotion.
"Alert Vice Admirals Tosa and Gion," he commanded. "Hold Whitebeard's forces. Don't let them escape."
This wasn't just another operation. The full Navy G1 Fortress had mobilized. Sengoku's goal: obliterate the Whitebeard Pirates. Even if the old man survived, his empire would not.
Still, Sengoku couldn't shake the unease creeping up his spine.
"What is it?" Tsuru asked, eyes narrowing.
"I don't know," he murmured. "Something feels… wrong."
—
Two warships flanked from opposite sides, sailing fast to trap the Moby Dick between them.
"Where's Thomson?" sneered Vice Admiral Gion. "Sunk already? Hah, what a waste."
"You talk big, but this is Whitebeard," Tosa snapped. "Stop yapping and move. Fire on the Moby Dick!"
The cannons fired again, black powder staining the air. Their goal wasn't direct combat—just to stall. Keep their distance. Lob shells.
But the Moby Dick didn't retreat.
"She's speeding up—coming right for us!"
"What?! Are they mad?"
"No… they've locked on to us. We're the next sacrifice."
"They killed Thomson… and now they're coming for us."
Realization dawned far too late.
"Don't let them close in! Fire! Keep them back!" Tosa yelled.
But the words died in his throat.
A storm of wind crashed against the decks—an invisible fist smashing through the sky. Sailors stumbled, tossed like leaves. Screams echoed as bodies hit wood and then water.
The warships cracked. One sailor clutched the rail, bleeding, dazed. "W-what the hell was that?"
"That," Rona muttered, eyes wide, "was Whitebeard."
"Gura-ra-ra! Trying to run?" the old man bellowed across the waves. "You think you can escape me?!"
His observation haki blanketed the entire sea like a storm front, locking onto every breath, every heartbeat. The moment the vice admirals hesitated—he struck.
On the Moby Dick, his sons roared with pride.
"That's Pops!"
"Hah! You never get used to it! Mitian, tell me that didn't shake your soul!"
Kozuki Oden's eyes gleamed. "Every time. That's the power that shakes the world."
Teach stood near the rail, eyes gleaming with hungry admiration.
That's it. That's the power I want.
The Tremor-Tremor Fruit—one of the most devastating abilities on the sea. Its true strength was not even fully revealed. Not yet.
Whitebeard, still in his prime, could wield that power without consequence. But that wouldn't last forever. One day, his body would falter. And when that day came…
The power will be mine.
—
On the warship, a desperate seaman burst from below deck.
"Lieutenant General! T-The power systems—they're gone!"
"What?! What about the other ship?"
Rona turned—only to see the second vessel listing, flooding.
Both ships… dead in the water.
Weapons were drawn. The air turned heavy.
"If this is the end," ** said, sword in hand, "then we take a few of them with us."
"Die standing. Buy time for the Warring States to arrive," Rona added.
For a moment, they weren't rival factions. They weren't bureaucrats. They were warriors. They were Navy.
"For justice!"
Teach grinned darkly. "Thief-hahaha! Even now, they cling to their pride. Admirable. But this sea—will be your grave."
He stepped forward, blades drawn. Thunder Fang in his left, Purgatory in his right.
With a burst of Moonwalk, he shot skyward.
This would be his proving ground. His awakening.
He was ready to become a true swordsman.
He would carve his name into history with steel and shadow.