"The very heavens cracked! Even for me, taking that head-on wouldn't be easy."
Gasps rippled across the deck—Creed, too, raised his brows. He had the faint sense that Whitebeard still wasn't going all out. Even so, a strike of that caliber was enough to make Redfield drink a full bowl of suffering. More than raw power, it showed Whitebeard's exquisite control and terrifying insight.
"In the original tale, Whitebeard could dodge Ace's hundred-plus sneak attacks even while asleep. His Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki) might be like Katakuri's, though Katakuri reads the future while Whitebeard… senses danger? Or maybe SSSS-level Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki) enhances that perception…"
A spark flashed in Creed's mind. "At extreme levels, Kenbunshoku and Haoshoku probably amplify each other. Haoshoku fortifies will and spirit—and stronger spirit raises the ceiling of Kenbunshoku."
He felt as if he'd poked through a veil yet couldn't quite seize the thread. "When this is over, I need seclusion to polish this… Too bad Kenbunshoku and Haoshoku can't be merged. Merge… right! Once my overall strength hits SSSS-level, I can unlock ability fusion!"
The thought jolted him. He remembered a system function he'd left on standby.
"System, enable ability fusion."
"Ding! Ability Fusion enabled. Caution: after fusion, abilities grow stronger but may lose certain traits and cannot be separated back into two abilities…"
Creed shrugged inwardly. "Fine. I'll start by fusing things I rarely use. If an SSSS-level ability pops out, that's pure profit." He had a pile of underused SSS-level skills anyway.
His faint smile made Ain glance up, puzzled. "Redfield-senpai is being pushed back by Whitebeard-senpai… Why is Creed-oniisan smiling?"
As if to answer her murmur, the clash on the far isle had already tilted. Whitebeard held the clear advantage—yet Redfield's tenacity was monstrous. To crush him utterly would be difficult… unless Whitebeard stopped hiding his last reserves—or paid a price. With his health what it was, there was no need to force it; besides, the two bore no mortal grudge.
Another dozen exchanges thundered out; the sea rolled like a born tsunami.
"Redfield, let's end it here today."
To everyone's surprise, Whitebeard was the first to call it. With a wave of his hand, the chaotic quakes blanketing several kilometers winked out.
Redfield hovered, eyes narrowing, then nodded. "All right. My thanks, Newgate."
"Gurararara. Looks like you've touched the threshold. Good! Come—let's drink."
Whitebeard laughed and beckoned him back to the feast.
When they returned, Creed quietly extracted a few high-grade abilities from Whitebeard through the system: SSSS-minus Naginata Slash, SSS+ Close-Quarters Combat…
"Pops!"
Marco rushed over—Whitebeard's breathing was slightly uneven.
"Hnh?" Creed's Ope Ope no Mi (Operation Fruit) was brushing against awakening; he too sensed something off. The bout had tugged at Whitebeard's vitality.
"Marco, let me."
Creed stepped up.
"Please," Marco said without hesitation. A user of the Operation Fruit was, by definition, one of the world's finest surgeons.
"Kid, it's a pity this old body won't let me see your real skill in a proper bout," Whitebeard rumbled, not resisting as Creed shaped a ROOM and began.
For the sake of this family—so many sons—he could not afford to falter.
After a short while, Creed finished. Whitebeard's eyes widened. "Not only is the weariness gone, but even that dull ache in my organs has vanished. I feel clear and lively! Creed, you've got quite the hand. Gurararara—if you weren't already the Fifth Emperor, I'd ask you to be my son. You're that outstanding…"
"Scram."
Whitebeard was still Whitebeard—always adopting sons. Even those who stabbed him in the back, he forgave. A greathearted man. But to Creed's ear, there was a hint of entrustment under the jest.
Truth be told, Whitebeard's crew brimmed with experts, yet none could truly inherit his seat. Marco's strength was sufficient, but he lacked a sovereign's horizon. Vista preferred moonlight and roses to dominion. Jozu, Thatch—captaincy of a division was already their ceiling. It was no wonder Whitebeard's eyes lingered on Creed. Otherwise, how did Ace—a guileless, hot-blooded kid—become his favorite and intended successor?
"Gurarara! That temper—I like it. Come, drink!"
The party rolled on, but Creed's thoughts drifted elsewhere. Work loomed. With Marine Headquarters relocating to the New World, odds were high his banner would be first on their list. Time felt tight—too tight.
He soon took his leave and prepared to hand Princess Shirahoshi over discreetly. Near Reverse Mountain's Whale, he kept her within cover; her identity was too special, her beauty too peerless, and both the World Government and Shiki had cast covetous eyes. Whitebeard's crew, too, wasn't a seamless wall; spies and informants slipped everywhere. Best not to spark a commotion.
When they reached the Moby Dick, Whitebeard dismissed bystanders. On the quiet deck, only he and Creed remained. Creed spread a ROOM, sealing sound away.
"About the escort—"
"No." Whitebeard cut him off gently. "I can't help with this. If possible, Creed, I'd like you to handle it. Protect her."
Creed frowned. Before this, hadn't Whitebeard promised King Neptune? Why the change?
Whitebeard's gaze was steady. "This body of mine… and eyes in too many corners. If I raise my flag openly, the sea will stir—and the wrong people will come. For her sake, it's better if you keep her shadowed and safe."
Creed exhaled and nodded once. "Understood."
Some burdens, only the living could carry—and only the strong could keep.
(End of Chapter)
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