Under the gaze of the two men, Lucian Thorn's expression remained calm.
He wasn't trying to be mysterious, nor did he hesitate.
Because every word he was about to speak would overturn the world's very understanding of "power and time."
"Pops, Marco."
Lucian began, his voice not loud, yet clear enough to suppress the roar of the waves.
"Before I begin, I need to explain something about myself."
"My Devil Fruit ability is… unique."
At the words "Devil Fruit," Marco's body tensed instinctively.
Because he and the others had long wondered—
What fruit had Lucian eaten, to mimic the world-shaking power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit?
"It doesn't give me powers like a Paramecia, nor does it let me transform into elements like a Logia."
Lucian slowly raised his right hand, palm open before them.
"After studying for some time, I discovered its true ability—'Absorption.'"
"Absorption?"
Marco blurted, his brows knitted tight.
"Yes. Absorption."
Meeting Whitebeard's gaze, Lucian said it without flinching.
"Through prolonged physical contact, I can absorb… or rather, 'analyze' the energy and traits of strong individuals."
"Pops, the massages I've been giving you—they weren't only to ease your pain."
"They were also part of my ability at work."
Marco's mind flashed back all at once!
He remembered these months at sea—the boy had spent nearly all his time by Pops' side, caring for him with tireless devotion. Those hands that seemed to be massaging had almost never left Whitebeard's body.
So that was it…
It all had a purpose!
Whitebeard didn't speak. He only listened quietly, his expression unchanged, but his massive hand clenched tight around Murakumo Giri betrayed his unrest.
Lucian continued.
"This absorption has limits."
"When my absorption of a target reaches a certain threshold, or a critical point…"
He paused deliberately.
On the moonlit deck, silence was suffocating.
Marco and Whitebeard both grew tense.
They could feel it—the revelation about to come would shatter decades of everything they thought they knew.
Lucian raised his head, his eyes shining brighter than ever, filled with absolute confidence.
"Then I can open a temporary 'gate.'"
"A gate… connecting to that person's peak in time and space!"
BOOM—!!!
A gate through time and space!
Connecting to a warrior's peak!
Those words struck like thunder from the heavens, leaving Marco and Whitebeard stunned.
Marco staggered, nearly losing his footing.
His usually lazy eyes bulged wide as saucers, filled with nothing but shock and disbelief.
Had he heard right?
Time…?
A strong man's peak era?
What kind of insane Devil Fruit was this? This was power fit for the gods!
It was beyond the scope of any Devil Fruit.
This was a power that shouldn't even exist!
But then—he looked at Whitebeard.
And every word froze in his throat.
Because Whitebeard's mountainous body had gone rigid.
Like a statue carved of stone.
And yet, from him spread an invisible aura—so overwhelming the sea itself seemed to tremble.
Crack… crack!
The timbers of the Moby Dick groaned as if they could not bear the weight.
Marco knew—that wasn't Conqueror's Haki.
It was Pops' soul, reawakened after being buried too long, resonating wildly at those words.
His peak?
That era when his body was whole and unbroken, when he alone with one ship could rival Roger?
The era when the Navy trembled at his name, when even the World Government kept its distance—
When he truly ruled the seas as the "Strongest Man in the World"!
The thought was a supernova exploding in his weary heart.
Too insane.
Too far.
And yet… too irresistible.
Lucian ignored the tidal waves within their hearts.
He wasn't done.
He stepped forward, standing before Whitebeard, unflinching before that suffocating aura, and declared his true plan.
His ultimate trump card.
"So, Pops."
"My method isn't tricks, nor some clever strategy."
He lifted his head, locking onto Whitebeard's thunderstruck eyes, his voice sharp with conviction.
"My method is this—"
"To summon the you who once ruled the seas, unmatched, whole and unbroken, at your very peak!"
"To bring forth the true Whitebeard to this war!"
Silence.
More absolute than ever before.
In that moment—
It felt as if the wind had stilled.
The waves had ceased.
Marco's mouth hung open, his mind blank, too shocked even to think.
To bring Pops' peak self to battle?
It was—
It was too much to process.
Beside him, Whitebeard's colossal frame trembled.
Because an emotion he had forgotten too long, buried too deep—an emotion called excitement—was surging through every fiber of his being!
He lowered his head, staring at his scarred, needle-punctured arm, this body eaten away by years and disease.
He had long since forgotten what it felt like—strength filling every vein, a single punch strong enough to shatter an island.
He had prepared to burn away the last of this broken body for Ace's sake.
But now—Lucian told him otherwise.
That he still had a chance.
A chance to let that self of old rise again!
Lucian saw the storm of emotions on Whitebeard's face and knew this final push had to come from him.
He exhaled slowly.
That breath shed all pretense, leaving only raw sincerity and trust.
"Pops."
"The tremor power I showed before—it was nothing but scraps I absorbed from your leaking energy."
"That wasn't my trump card."
Lucian lifted his head again, his eyes clear and unshakable, reflecting Whitebeard's shaken face.
"My trump card was never myself."
"My trump card…"
"Is your peak!"