Whitebeard's question instantly made Lucian Thorn the focus of the entire meeting room.
Everyone—
Swish, swish, swish!
Countless gazes converged on the corner of the room.
That was where the 14th Division sat.
Beside an empty captain's seat stood the boy who had not spoken a single word since the beginning.
The 7th Division Captain, Rakuyo, still had blood dripping from his chain-wrapped fist. His crimson eyes brimmed with impatience and irritation.
A rookie.
A kid who had only just shown a glimpse of his strength.
Yes, a genius—
But still!
In a meeting that would decide the life or death of the entire pirate crew, Pops would actually ask him for his opinion?
The 9th Division Captain, Blenheim, whose massive frame resembled a mountain, also froze for a moment, equally baffled.
Meanwhile, the 5th Division Captain, "Flower Sword" Vista, instinctively twirled his trademark mustache, his gaze tinged with curiosity.
He could never forget—
Forget the way this boy, fresh aboard the ship, had stood at the bow with a calmness that seemed unshaken even amidst a rain of cannon fire.
Nor could he forget the terrifying scene when, from hundreds of meters away, the boy shattered a hundred-meter-long warship with a single punch into flying debris.
This rookie was different.
But the first to notice something unusual about Lucian Thorn was Marco.
His always-drowsy eyes were now fixed sharply on him, unblinking.
Something's wrong.
Very wrong.
Since the meeting began, Rakuyo had been roaring, Blenheim shouting, Izo arguing, the Decalvan Brothers proposing.
Almost everyone vented their rage and anxiety in their own way, as though their reason was about to be burned away.
Even Pops, though silent, radiated a fury so vast it made the seas tremble.
But Lucian Thorn?
He was quiet.
Strangely quiet, completely out of place with everything around him.
But it wasn't fear—Marco was certain of that.
He had seen this boy stand tall under the Haki of the Yonko Shanks, refusing to fall.
It wasn't indifference either.
After all, he had also seen this boy scream a desperate warning to Pops after glimpsing Ace's future, throwing himself forward in agony.
At this moment, he should be anxious.
He should be angry.
But he wasn't.
This was nothing like the Lucian Thorn Marco knew!
What he saw now—
Was a bottomless calm.
The kind of chilling composure that felt detached from the world itself.
As if this war, a war that could overturn the entire world, was nothing more than a replay of an ending he already knew.
The thought sent a cold shiver down Marco's back.
"What's wrong?"
Whitebeard's imposing voice rang out again. His towering body leaned slightly forward, casting a shadow that nearly engulfed Lucian Thorn completely.
"My son, have you been scared speechless by the Navy's grand display?"
Though his words carried a teasing note, his emperor-like eyes gleamed with razor-sharp light, as if piercing through all pretense.
The air in the meeting room froze solid.
Every captain held their breath.
They all waited—
Waited for the rookie who had already performed miracles to say something earth-shaking once more.
Under the weight of countless eyes, Lucian Thorn finally moved.
Slowly, he raised his head from the corner's shadow, his calm gaze sweeping over faces filled with impatience, hope, or doubt.
At last, his eyes met Whitebeard's.
And in a clear, steady voice devoid of any emotion, he spoke.
"Pops."
"All my brothers here are veterans who have roamed the New World for years—strong and experienced."
"If even my brothers cannot think of a flawless strategy…"
"Then what could a rookie like me, who only just boarded this ship and whose strength is insignificant, possibly come up with?"
The moment his words fell—
The meeting room sank into an even heavier silence.
Disappointment.
Naked, unhidden disappointment spread across most of the captains' faces.
"Tch."
Rakuyo spat to the side with disdain and turned his head away, as if looking at Lucian Thorn any longer was a waste of time.
"So that's all? I thought he had something profound to say."
"As expected, still just a brat."
"In times like these, what use is he?"
Whispers buzzed like mosquitoes, heavy and grating.
The fragile thread of hope they'd held was crushed completely by Lucian Thorn's humble, almost meaningless response.
Yes.
Why would they expect anything from a rookie?
They were captains of the Whitebeard Pirates—renowned powers of the sea!
If even they had no solution, what could some snot-nosed kid do?
But Marco only furrowed his brow deeper.
This explanation could fool others—
But it could never fool Marco.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong!
From anyone else, these words might make sense.
But from Lucian Thorn? They reeked of contradiction!
This was not the Lucian Thorn he knew.
Not the one who flattered Pops with his bold "Haki cultivation theory."
Not the one who stood laughing alone before a Navy fleet, and destroyed it in an instant.
He was hiding something.
Or waiting for something.
And just as everyone sank back into disappointment, ready to resume their endless arguments—
Whitebeard, seated at the head, reacted in a way none of them expected.
He wasn't angry.
Nor was he disappointed.
He laughed.
"Gurararara…"
That iconic laugh, deep and thunderous, rolled through the suffocating meeting room.
He looked at Lucian Thorn, and in those eyes that seemed to pierce into the soul flashed a meaningful glimmer.
"Weak?"
Whitebeard repeated the word, his tone tinged with amusement.
"A kid who can shatter a Vice Admiral's flagship with one punch… if that's what you call weak…"
"Then there aren't many strong ones left on this sea."
He pressed no further.
Nor did he bother with the other sons' reactions.
The man who stood at the pinnacle of the age—the world's strongest man—simply fixed his emperor's gaze silently on Lucian Thorn.
That gaze was no longer that of a father to his child.
It was a gaze of equals.
A scrutiny.
As if he sought to pierce through Lucian Thorn's serene surface, to the raging storm hidden deep within his soul.
Even under that gaze, Lucian Thorn kept his head bowed, his expression unchanged.