The crowd erupted in chaos!
"Is he… kidding?!"
"Has this guy gone insane? Does he even know what he's saying?"
"Overturn the battlefield? Does he think Marineford is a vegetable market?"
A tidal wave of doubt, scoffing, and disbelief surged from the crew, threatening to drown out both Lucian and Marco.
They could accept Lucian's confidence—even admire his guts.
But this kind of utterly delusional talk? It just made him sound laughable.
One of the braver allied captains raised his hand hesitantly, voice trembling.
"Um… Brother Lucian..."
"This backup you're talking about… is it really for real?"
"Could you… maybe just give us a tiny hint?"
"Yeah, yeah! Just a little! We promise we won't spread it!"
"Who is it? Is it someone we know?"
"Stronger than the division commanders?!"
That last question struck a chord with everyone present.
The sixteen division commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates were already top-tier powerhouses across the sea.
For Lucian to act so confident—and even use a phrase like "overturn the battlefield"—were these reinforcements really stronger than the commanders?
How was that possible?
All at once, the crew—who had just been stunned by Lucian's presence—surged back around them in a frenzy, completely surrounding the pair.
Yet Lucian remained utterly calm. Arms crossed, a faint smirk on his lips, as if he was watching children play.
"Captain Marco! Say something, damn it!"
Diamond Jozu was losing patience. His massive palm gripped Marco's shoulder and gave it a firm shake.
"What the hell happened to you? You go on a trip and come back like your soul's missing!"
"I… I…"
Marco was being shaken senseless. His mouth opened, eyes dazed, like he was on the verge of tears.
What could he even say?
He genuinely couldn't get a word out!
What—tell Jozu that the calm-looking Lucian beside them was a monster who could travel through time?
He was afraid Jozu would think he'd lost his mind—and punch him straight into the next life!
Seeing Marco's blank expression, like someone who forgot where he was and what he was doing, the crew's unease and doubt reached a boiling point.
They were doomed.
Had Captain Marco… really been brain-damaged out there?
"Lucian. Marco."
Just then, a calm but heavy voice rang out.
Jozu and Flower Sword Vista pushed through the crowd and stepped forward.
"We believe in you two."
"But this matter concerns Ace's life—and all of ours."
"We have the right to know exactly who the allies are that we're entrusting our backs to."
He paused, and his tone grew sharper.
"Are they… stronger than us commanders?"
The question landed like a hammer blow, shaking everyone to their core.
Every trace of chatter vanished.
All eyes turned once more to Lucian.
This question was too important.
The division commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates were the ceiling of executive combat power in this sea.
If the reinforcements weren't even stronger than them, how could they possibly overturn the battlefield?
Everyone held their breath.
Lucian's smirk finally faded a little.
He met Vista and Jozu's questioning gazes without flinching, then slowly began to speak—calmly, clearly, one word at a time.
"Vista. Jozu."
"This isn't me looking down on you."
"But the ones I brought back..."
His eyes swept slowly over the gathered commanders. Whatever they saw in his gaze made their hearts tighten involuntarily.
"...Even if all of you went up against just one of them together, I doubt you'd win."
BOOM!
If his earlier words were pebbles dropped in a lake, this one was a depth charge detonating underwater.
The entire deck fell silent.
Jozu's calm cracked in an instant!
Vista's grip on his sword hilt tightened abruptly.
The other commanders' faces twisted in disbelief, shock—and a hint of insulted anger.
All of them together… couldn't win?
That was an outrageous insult!
"You—!"
Several of the more hot-headed commanders were on the verge of exploding—
But right then—
A deep, resounding laugh echoed from the captain's cabin, like a giant bell tolling across the ship.
"Gurararara…"
That unmistakable voice, laced with strange magic, instantly silenced all noise and chaos on the deck.
Then came the thundering words—filled with overwhelming authority:
"If you bastards can't even trust your own brother's word—do you still have the right to call yourselves my sons?!"
BOOOOOM!
It was as if those words alone carried some kind of power!
In just one sentence, the entire crew fell completely silent.
The deck, just moments ago ablaze with noise, now held not even a whisper.
All the confusion, panic, and interrogation on the faces around Lucian froze at once—replaced by bone-deep reverence.
Everyone turned their heads sharply.
Creak…
The door to the captain's cabin opened.
And from it emerged a towering figure, like a mountain casting its shadow over all.
A crescent-shaped white mustache.
Eyes that could crush souls with a single glare.
He didn't need to move—his very presence exuded the force of a king towering over the world.
The strongest man of this era—Whitebeard, Edward Newgate!
He didn't look at anyone directly. He simply walked forward—step by step—toward the crowd.
The instant everyone recognized him, even the most unruly of the commanders instinctively stood up straight, heads lowered, not daring to make a sound.
"F-Father…!"
The crowd that had surrounded Lucian and Marco like a wall split apart like the sea, trembling and terrified, clearing a path without hesitation.
No one dared block his way.
This… was the majesty of a Yonko.
Whitebeard stepped into the middle of the crowd. His eyes—sharp as a blade—swept slowly across the gathered crew.
Each person who met that gaze felt as if a mountain was pressing on their chest. Cold sweat broke out instantly, and none could hold his stare.
Finally, his eyes locked onto Vista and Jozu.
"What's this?"
Whitebeard spoke slowly. Calmly. But the pressure in his tone could crush bone.
"The war hasn't even started, and you're already doubting your own brothers?"
"You think you're ready to storm Marineford like this?"
"What, is life too long for you? You wanna get fed to the fish ahead of schedule?!"
"N-No! Father!"
Vista and Jozu trembled, bowing their heads deeply, drenched in sweat.
"We were wrong!"
"Shut the hell up!"
Whitebeard roared. His voice thundered across the deck.
"Get the hell back to your posts!"
"And prepare for the battle of your damn lives!"
"YES, FATHER!!"
No one dared to utter another word.
No one dared to question anything else.
The crew scattered like frightened birds, instantly returning to their stations to resume final preparations.
This was Whitebeard.
His word was absolute law.
His authority—needed no explanation.
The rowdy deck was now left with only Lucian, Marco, and Whitebeard.
Only then did that suffocating pressure begin to fade.
Marco let out a long breath, feeling the sweat soaking his back.
Father's presence… was still terrifying as ever.
Whitebeard didn't even glance at the nearly petrified Marco. Instead, he looked directly at Lucian. In those awe-inspiring eyes, a faint flicker of approval passed.
He grinned.
"Gurararara…"
"Kid. Well done."
No interrogation.
No questions.
Not even a sliver of doubt.
Just a single, simple—yet infinitely heavy—acknowledgment.
It was total trust. Absolute. Unquestioning. Even blindly so.
Marco's eyes widened—and then relaxed into a deep sense of relief.
He finally understood why Lucian had remained so calm this whole time.
Because he knew—
On this ship, there was one man who would believe in him no matter what.
And that was enough.
"Father," Lucian looked up, meeting Whitebeard's gaze with a confident smile. "I only did what had to be done."
"Gurararara! 'What had to be done,' huh? I like that!"
Whitebeard let out a hearty laugh and slammed his massive palm onto Lucian's shoulder.