"Kid, you've got the Operation Fruit—so you know my condition. And Kaido's almost at my door."
Whitebeard sighed. "Times have changed. If I lose, the Whitebeard Pirates could be wiped out…"
"Kaido?!" Creed's eyes narrowed.
For all his drunken brawling, Kaido was anything but simple. Creed's mind ran through the man's methods—using the shogun to purge the Kozuki, turning Wano—rich in resources and seastone-crafting—into a fortress, locking down ships and news to cement rule. He prized talent too, recruiting strong enemies after beating them. Back in Gran Tesoro, Kaido had coaxed thirty billion belly out of the old fox Morgans with a few words—proof enough of cunning. All those "solo suicide" stunts? Creed suspected they were meant to grind rivals down—and collar anyone promising.
Even the world's strongest man couldn't outpace time. Before a looming monster, even Whitebeard sounded like an aging father anxious for his sons.
"You have the brightest future," Whitebeard said quietly. "If the day comes… look after them, if you can. I'd be grateful."
Creed didn't speak—he just nodded. Relief softened Whitebeard's gaze. He feared neither death nor pain, only the fate his family might face if he fell. With Creed's word, the weight eased.
Creed would repay him anyway—Whitebeard had helped him several times, each critical.
When Creed took his leave, he also quietly extracted a handful of SSS-class skills from several division commanders—fodder for the fusion he planned next.
Half an hour after Creed's ship slipped away from Reverse Mountain's whale, a flashy speedboat burned into the harbor—literally, propelled by flames. Its rider wore an orange cowboy hat, freckles on his cheeks, a red bead necklace, and the letters "ASCE" tattooed on his left arm—the crossed-out S drawing snickers from a few hands on deck.
"Brat, you're not one of us. You've got a death wish barging in here?" Blades rasped from sheaths all along the rail.
"I'm the captain of the Spade Pirates—Fire Fist Ace! Where's Whitebeard? I'm here to defeat him!"
"Beat our Pops? Try me first—Rakuyo!" The seventh division commander stepped forward, meteor hammer swinging.
"Gurararara. Rakuyo, stand down. He's the Mera Mera no Mi (Flame-Flame Fruit) user—tricky." Whitebeard strode from the cabin.
"Yes, Pops," Rakuyo said, withdrawing.
"Whitebeard! Today I'm taking your title of world's strongest for myself!" Ace shouted, thrilled to see his target at last—never guessing he was about to stack more than a hundred straight losses.
Creed, guided by fate's crooked timing, didn't witness Ace's arrival. He was deep in study—testing the newly unlocked ability fusion, trying to forge an SSSS-tier trump card from his pile of mid-to-high-tier powers.
The rules were strict: fuse at most three abilities at once, and only once per week.
What he most wanted was to elevate creativity-based powers—his sword intents. He held three: Wheel-of-Rebirth Sword Intent, Ice Sword Intent, and Night Sword Intent. The first and third were supreme-class; Ice lagged behind. He queued up a trial fusion: Ice Sword Intent + Naginata Slash (SSSS–) + Chain Slash (SSS).
System prompt: "Post-fusion outcomes—65%: retain ice attribute (greater cutting power, ice unchanged); 25%: convert to enhanced Naginata Slash (higher raw cutting power, reduced ice attribute); 10%: convert to boosted Chain Slash (hits stack +100% damage, but both ice attribute and frontal cut power –25%). Proceed?"
Too much variance. He shelved it and swapped in a purer set: SSS+ Fist Arts + SSS+ Kick Arts + SSS+ Body Arts.
A perfect trio.
"After fusion, host will obtain an SSSS– ability. Proceed?"
"Fuse."
"Ding! Fusion complete. Host has obtained SSSS– Ultra Body Art. Extract?"
A rare smile touched Creed's lips. "Extract."
Power surged—clean, efficient, explosive. Exactly what he needed with Marine Headquarters shifting into the New World and storms gathering on every horizon.
Far away, a freckled fist met a crescent mustache for the first time, and destiny quietly reset its hourglass.
(End of Chapter)
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