This legendary showdown, which countless historians and journalists would later embellish, lasted three days and three nights.
During the day, two pirate crews representing the sea's highest combat power engaged in the most primitive, purest collision of strength on the island.
Roger's Divine Departure matched Whitebeard's Tremor-Tremor Fruit abilities blow for blow, Rayleigh's sword light danced with Marco's blue flames, and Scopper Gaban's giant axes rang out a thunderous symphony against Jozu's diamond body.
The aftershocks of their Haki plowed the island's center over and over again, each clash changing the very color of the sky.
However, whenever night fell, an unspoken understanding would quietly take effect.
The fighting would stop abruptly, both sides retreating to their respective camps to light bonfires.
Enemies who'd been fighting to the death during the day would now raise their cups across the massive crater between them.
"Hey! Newgate! Got any booze left over there!" Roger bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"Gurararara! If you want some, come get it yourself, Roger!" Whitebeard responded boldly.
And then, something magical happened.
A Roger Pirates crew member, clutching a wounded arm and cursing under his breath, would walk toward the Whitebeard Pirates' camp—not for revenge, but to trade for a roll of clean bandages.
Meanwhile, from the Whitebeard Pirates' side, Thatch would swagger into enemy territory carrying a plate of fragrant roasted sea beast meat, all just to trade for a bottle of unique West Blue liquor from Roger's ship.
By the third evening, when Roger and Whitebeard clashed once more, both knocked back by the impact before breaking into simultaneous laughter, this absurd war finally evolved into an even more absurd banquet.
The so-called "leave everything you've got" ultimately became a "gift exchange party."
Six-six-six, no points deducted for changing faces!
"Ha ha ha! Newgate, I'll gladly take this broken gun you stole from the Navy!" Roger hefted an ostentatiously designed flintlock, its barrel ridiculously studded with gems.
"Gurararara! That hat of yours is nice—perfect bowl for Oden!" Whitebeard plopped a captured Navy officer's cap on Kozuki Oden's head, earning weird "ohhhh" sounds from the latter.
The crew members were bruised and bandaged, yet their faces beamed with genuine smiles.
They put their arms around each other's shoulders, trading food, liquor, and even trophies "borrowed" from each other's ships, bragging about their daytime exploits only to be mercilessly exposed by their opponents, then wrestling together before being pulled apart by comrades and having liquor poured down their throats.
Noisy, chaotic, yet filled with a strange harmony.
Kyle sat on a thick branch high above, his legs swinging leisurely.
He held an apple he'd swiped from someone, watching this bizarre scene below with interest, as if enjoying a wonderful performance.
This was what pirates truly were!
Powerful, free, doing whatever they pleased, colliding in the purest way and reconciling in the purest way.
This was Roger's charm—he could attract equally pure monsters like Whitebeard.
Kyle's gaze shifted from Roger and Whitebeard, who sat on a giant mushroom laughing wildly, finally settling on a few kids at the banquet's edge.
It was a silent standoff.
Whoa, didn't notice earlier! Isn't that Blackbeard?
Marshall D. Teach stood with his arms crossed, expression serious at the edge of the Whitebeard Pirates' formation.
His gaze cut through the bonfire and crowd, locked firmly on two figures across the way—Shanks and Buggy.
"Captain Marco," Teach lowered his voice, though his eyes never left the other side, "those two on Roger's ship—the redhead and red nose—are they apprentices?"
Marco followed his gaze and yawned lazily: "Ah, that's Shanks and Buggy. They've been on the ship for ages, real veterans."
"I see..." Teach narrowed his eyes. "Don't look very strong."
Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the opposing camp was completely different.
"Hey, Shanks," Buggy crept close to Shanks' ear, lowering his voice as if sharing some earth-shattering secret, "see that guy in the hat over there?"
Shanks mumbled back: "Yeah, I see him. What about it?"
"He..." Buggy's expression grew horrified, his red nose seeming even redder, "hasn't slept once in these three nights!"
Shanks said dismissively: "Not sleeping? So what? Is staying awake something to be proud of?"
"Idiot!" Buggy jumped up anxiously, his voice going shrill. "That's not the point! I secretly overheard people from Whitebeard's ship saying that guy... that guy's never slept since he was born! His life is twice as long as everyone else's!"
He paused, looking at the distant Teach with the expression one might use for a monster, his voice trembling as he concluded: "He's a monster, Shanks!"
Shanks blinked, scratching his head, seemingly unable to grasp the horror of this revelation.
However, what they didn't know was that on the other end of this standoff, the future Four Emperor "Blackbeard" was enduring tremendous psychological pressure despite his tough talk.
Marshall D. Teach crossed his arms, a bead of cold sweat appearing on his forehead.
His gaze was locked on Buggy, his mind caught in a storm of thoughts.
That red nose...
Why does he keep staring at me?
Since the first night, he's been staring at me.
The second night, he was still staring at me.
Today! The third day! He's still looking at me with those eyes like he's discovered some huge secret, staring without blinking!
Teach felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
Kyle could barely contain himself.
Buggy: That guy across from us is terrifying—three days and nights without sleep!
Teach: That guy across from us is terrifying—he's been staring at me for three days and nights!