The SSS-level naginata art wasn't a fit—Creed's weapon was a longsword—so he didn't extract it. Besides, Whitebeard's naginata truly shone only when paired with the Tremor-Tremor Fruit, which made it chicken ribs for Creed right now.
What Creed wanted most, of course, was the Tremor-Tremor Fruit itself—but he currently lacked a Devil Fruit Extraction Card.
"Drink, drink—hmm?"
Whitebeard had just sat them down to raise a bowl when he sensed a subtle shift in Creed's aura. His brows knit. So the kid was holding back even now… truly terrifying talent. Earlier, to test him, Whitebeard had only used SSS+-level Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki) plus a taste of his own "momentum." Creed took it with ease. But that faint leak a moment ago said the boy's Haoshoku was already on par with his current level.
Whitebeard had never been one to "admit he's old," yet even he felt a ripple of that sentiment now. A youth under twenty, who'd already defeated Big Mom—astonishing. A thought welled up in his chest: This one's achievements might even outstrip Roger's. The sea will be his sooner or later… And the World Government wants him dead? Is Imu senile, or are the Five Elders fools…
While the old man marveled, Creed could spare no attention for small talk. After a sip of sake, his mind sank wholly into the newly extracted Haoshoku.
Once Haoshoku reaches SSS-level, if you grasp its unique "knock-technique," it can strike with tangible force. The strike lands at the speed of thought—hard to guard against. Its raw damage lags behind Busoshoku Haki (Armament Haki) of the same tier, but its trouble factor far exceeds it.
At SSSS-level, that force steps onto an entirely higher platform—enough to wound the vast majority of top-tiers—and it carries a vicious psychic shock.
In other words, a powerhouse whose spirit isn't strong enough—or who lacks Haoshoku altogether—will be at a severe disadvantage before an SSSS-level Haoshoku user.
Worse, Haoshoku's formless nature lets it braid into Busoshoku, creating a one-plus-one-greater-than-two strike. That mixture of real and unreal is terrifying.
No wonder the absolute summit of this world is almost entirely populated by those who wield Haoshoku. Without it, facing a peer who has it is misery. Unless you're like Mihawk, whose sword intent reaches SSSS-level, or you're a Devil Fruit user with deep awakening—you barely qualify to resist…
Creed's shock pivoted quickly into joy at the combat boost SSSS-level Haoshoku would bring. His Jigoku Ichimonji (Extreme Evil One-Cut) was an overwhelming physical strike; his Zensho Ichimonji (Supreme Good One-Cut) was a dreadful spiritual blow. Fused into Mugen Rinne (Endless Samsara), the art became the pinnacle of "real-and-illusory as one." With SSSS-level precision in Busoshoku and Haoshoku, that fusion would climb yet another flight of stairs.
"With this amplification, Endless Samsara—even if not guaranteed—should absolutely pierce Kaido's defense!"
Creed's heart lifted. Kaido's defenses were obscene; without the Rinnegan, it was hard to inflict true, substantial damage. With future enemies like Imu and the Five Elders—unknown quantities—Creed was reluctant to expose the Rinnegan in public. When he stormed Mary Geoise, it had to be a one-strike success; failure was not an option. The Rinnegan's ultimate techniques were the surest guarantee of that success.
Thinking of the Rinnegan, Creed's gaze drifted to the rainbow chest glimmering above Whitebeard's head—his fingers itched. The system hadn't lied: each Emperor carried a rainbow chest, claimable upon defeat or death.
But he was here today to hand over Princess Shirahoshi. That other matter could wait.
With Tsukuyomi in hand, the moment a chance appeared, Creed could take a rainbow chest without having to grievously injure Whitebeard.
After a few bowls of sake, talk turned casual. Whitebeard was forthright—no coyness, more like a kindly old uncle—so the meal went down smooth for Creed's group.
Only Redfield seemed off from the moment he boarded. He wore a rigid face, and his gaze barely left Whitebeard. There was history between them—whether a grudge in blood or something less presentable was unclear. At their level, even a matter of "face" could turn small things into boulders too big to swallow.
Sure enough, after three rounds of drink, Redfield could no longer sit.
"Newgate—fight me."
"Forgive me. Pops isn't in the best health. Let me stand in for him."
Marco stepped forward. He knew the tangle between Redfield and their Old Man and feared sparks might fly into a blaze.
"Marco, you're no swordsman. Let me."
A figure slid in front of Marco—a dashing fencer with two blades, a tall top hat, a blue-violet cloak, and a curled moustache.
Flower Sword Vista—the Fifth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Creed's eyes narrowed. In the original tale, Vista's strength was enough to hold off Mihawk. Even if he fell short of the Hawk-Eyes, they were close; as a swordsman, he was more than worthy against Redfield.
"No. I challenge Whitebeard alone."
Redfield ignored him, eyes locked on the old emperor.
"Gurara-ra-ra! Marco, Vista—stand down. This is between him and me; there's an agreement you can't meddle in. Let this old body loosen its joints today."
Whitebeard laughed, rising to meet the crimson challenge.
(End of Chapter)
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