Lucian Thorn's words were like a nuclear bomb dropped into a dead sea—
once again shaking Whitebeard to his core!
The silence on deck reached its peak in that instant.
Marco was already stiff as stone, mouth open, hands clutching his head. He couldn't make a sound. His mind was blank, utterly wiped clean by the shock of Lucian's words.
Summon Pops at his peak?
Bring forth the man who had once rivaled the Pirate King, Roger, onto the battlefield himself?
This wasn't a plan.
This was defiance of heaven itself!
Unbelievable to anyone!
Madness that no sane man could even imagine!
And yet—more terrifying than Marco's shock was Whitebeard's own reaction.
That mountainous body began to tremble violently the moment Lucian's words fell.
Not from rage. Not from fear.
But from something suppressed for decades, nearly forgotten—an emotion called excitement, erupting from the depths of his aged soul like a volcanic explosion!
Crack—!
In his hand, the Supreme Grade Blade Murakumo Giri was unconsciously clad in Armament Haki.
His peak self?
That was the true Whitebeard—hailed as the Strongest Man in the World!
And now—
That thought, that image, that possibility—
Like a thunderbolt ripping the sky, it split apart the heart of the Yonko that had long been smothered by illness and age!
He had already prepared to die.
Already accepted the tragic fate of using his broken body to carve one last path for his sons.
But now!
This son—the youngest he had only just acknowledged—stood before him and declared with unshakable certainty:
Pops, you don't need to die.
Not only will you live—
you will return to the past and let the world once again tremble before Peak Whitebeard!
This…
What greater temptation could there be?
Who—who could not be moved?!
"Gu…"
Slowly, he raised his head.
And in those once-clouded eyes now burned two golden flames, blazing hot enough to incinerate the sky itself!
He locked onto Lucian, as if to pierce his very soul.
He needed to confirm it.
Confirm that this boy wasn't mocking him.
Wasn't taunting an old man already half-buried in his grave with fantasies.
Under Whitebeard's scrutiny, Lucian did not flinch.
His eyes remained clear, steady, and filled with absolute confidence.
That confidence erased Whitebeard's last doubts—igniting him completely!
"Gu ra…"
"Gu ra ra ra…"
"GU RA RA RA RA RA RA RA!!!"
At last, the laughter long suppressed burst forth, boundless and unrestrained, shaking the heavens!
BOOM!!!
The power in that laughter was terrifying.
Centered on the Moby Dick, the sea for thousands of meters around was pressed down several meters by the invisible shockwaves of his joy.
The entire ocean trembled and submitted before the ecstasy of this Emperor of the Sea!
Marco staggered back, forced by the sheer force of the laughter, eyes wide with shock as he watched his Pops laugh like this.
It had been far, far too long since he had heard Whitebeard laugh with such life, such raw vitality!
This was not the burdened Whitebeard who bore the weight of his crew, his steps heavy with age.
This was Edward Newgate—who once scorned the World Government itself, overflowing with unshakable pride!
"Good!"
"Well said, my son!"
Whitebeard slammed Murakumo Giri into the deck, his colossal fists clenching so hard his knuckles cracked like gunfire!
"Let my peak self join this war!"
"Gu ra ra ra ra! What plan could be more glorious than this!"
His massive body leaned forward, his enormous shadow engulfing Lucian completely. The aura of a sovereign filled the air, so powerful that even Marco felt like his father had returned to his prime.
But beneath the surge of excitement, Whitebeard forced his voice steady, each word resounding with gravity.
"Interesting brat!"
"Then to make this miracle real…"
"What do you need me to do?"
Here it was.
Lucian's heart tightened—he knew this was the decisive moment.
Facing Whitebeard's gaze, burning with expectation and trust, he did not hesitate.
"Simple."
Lucian's eyes blazed, his war intent burning no less fiercely than Whitebeard's.
"My ability requires enormous energy as its foundation. Mimicking the fragments of power you shed is too slow—and too scattered."
"I need more of your energy. More purity. More precision!"
He stepped forward, raising his hand, pointing straight at Whitebeard's chest, his voice ringing like steel.
"I need—"
"You to unleash your power and let me perform the deepest, most direct analysis!"
"I need… your power's data!"