Chapter 408: The Dawn of a New Era
Second half of the Grand Line, New World.
In the vast, turbulent waters under the dominion of Whitebeard, a colossal ship shaped like a white whale cut through the waves. This was Moby Dick, the legendary ship of the Whitebeard Pirates. Once a symbol of unyielding strength, the ship now bore a weathered, battle-scarred appearance, its hull marked by the trials of countless conflicts.
Atop the deck stood Whitebeard himself, his towering frame wrapped in loops of white bandages, a testament to recent battles. His gaze was fixed on the sky, where a cascade of black light scrolls descended like dark stars. For a moment, his expression was solemn, but then a hearty laugh erupted from deep within his chest.
"Gululululu!" he roared, his voice booming over the sea. "That man is truly unpredictable! To think he'd pull off something like this!"
"The world's gone mad!" he continued, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "What an utterly reckless fool."
Nearby, Marco, one of Whitebeard's most trusted commanders, observed the scene with a look of profound shock. His eyes followed his crewmates as they reached for the mysterious black scrolls drifting down from the heavens. The phenomenon was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. Across the endless expanse of the sea, these scrolls fell only where ships sailed, as if guided by an unseen hand. If this was the work of one man—a man launching a campaign that reached every corner of the world—then what kind of power did he possess? How could a single person's perception, their mastery of Observation Haki, extend to such an unimaginable degree? Was this man a god?
Marco's mind raced, grappling with the implications. For those like him, who thrived on analysis, the thought was nothing short of horrifying. But even more pressing than the mystery of the scrolls was the looming shadow of what they heralded. The knowledge contained within those scrolls was revolutionary, capable of granting ordinary people extraordinary power if studied diligently. Geniuses and hidden prodigies, long buried in obscurity, would rise to prominence. The world was on the cusp of a violent new era—an era of chaos and unchecked ambition.
Pirates, both new and seasoned, would grow stronger at an alarming rate. The New World, already a battleground for the mightiest, would become even more treacherous. The Pirate Emperors, including Whitebeard, would face the brunt of this upheaval first.
Marco's expression darkened with worry. Just two days ago, the Scarlet Queen had confronted their crew. The Whitebeard Pirates, despite their legendary status, had been utterly defeated. The enemy hadn't even relied on her fearsome dragon-like creature or fought in person. Instead, she unleashed a monstrous being—beautiful as a mermaid but wielding terrifying power. With a single gesture, it had summoned a thousand-meter-high wall of water, encircling their ship like a cage.
Whitebeard had fought with all his might to hold back the towering tsunami, but even he couldn't counter the enemy's overwhelming control over the sea. To protect Moby Dick and his crew, he had resorted to a desperate Moonwalk, launching himself toward the Scarlet Queen in a bid to end the fight. But the effort had cost him dearly. The enemy's mastery of the ocean had dragged him beneath the waves, sinking him into the depths.
His sons, the Whitebeard Pirates, could only watch helplessly as their pops was pulled under. The crushing sense of powerlessness gnawed at them, exposing their weaknesses in stark clarity. Now, with the world on the brink of monumental change, the crisis ahead would only grow larger. They could no longer rely solely on their pops's strength. Whitebeard's body, already battered by years of battle and now further weakened, could not endure alone.
Marco glanced at Whitebeard, a flicker of concern in his eyes. They needed to become stronger—stronger than ever before.
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Grand Line, Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
At the heart of the Marines' stronghold, Marineford, high-ranking officers emerged from their offices and residences, their faces etched with unease. They exchanged glances, each pair of eyes reflecting the same unspoken dread: something monumental was unfolding.
Marine Fleet-Admiral Kong stood among them, his gaze fixed on the black scrolls descending from the sky. His expression was heavy, burdened by the weight of what he witnessed.
"Hisoka, the Evil Lord," he said in a grave voice. "That man acted so wantonly."
The Marines around him clutched the mysterious scrolls, their faces a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Kong's mind churned with the implications. Hisoka's actions were not merely a display of power—they were a direct challenge to the world's order. By spreading this knowledge, he was sowing the seeds of chaos, planting ambition and unrest in the hearts of all who received it.
"For a man to wield such power and shake the very foundations of the era," Kong murmured, "the future of the world has become impossible to predict."
What terrified him most was not Hisoka's strength, but the consequences of his actions. If everyone gained access to such power, people's hearts would stir with ambition. Those driven by desire would plunge into the abyss of their own greed, while even those without such motives might rise up in rebellion, emboldened by their newfound strength. The result would be a world consumed by endless conflict.
Was this Hisoka's whim? Another reckless act by a man who seemed to toy with the world's fate? Kong could only hope that the authority of the World Government, and the enigmatic power of the "King," would serve as a final barrier against the madness Hisoka had unleashed.
He watched the lower-ranking Marines, their faces alight with excitement as they examined the scrolls. His heart sank. The seeds of upheaval had already been sown.
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Red Line, Holy Land, Marijoa.
In the sacred halls of Pangu City, the Five Elders, the highest authorities of the World Government, stood in rare disarray. Their eyes were locked on a black scroll floating before them, passing through the air as if it were intangible, defying all logic.
"How dare he?" one of the Elders hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "How dare he?"
The reason for their outrage was clear: Hisoka's actions threatened to uproot the very foundation of their rule. A world where power was reserved for the few was far easier to control than one where strength was within everyone's reach. People with power would not tolerate oppression. Their patience for subjugation would crumble, and rebellion would follow.
The Elders' minds raced with the consequences. With a global population so vast, even if only a fraction, one-tenth, embraced the knowledge in these scrolls and pursued its teachings, the number of powerful individuals would grow exponentially. Many who might have lived and died as ordinary people, unaware of their potential, would now have a path to greatness. Hisoka had handed them the key to unlock their hidden strength.
This was a disaster for the World Government. The rise of countless strong individuals would destabilize the social order. Ordinary people, now empowered, might abandon their roles in production, leading to economic collapse. The strain on resources would intensify as more sought to enhance their strength, potentially triggering shortages in the future. Every aspect of human society, industry, governance, stability, would face unprecedented challenges.
In the eyes of the Five Elders, Hisoka's actions were the height of recklessness, a villainous act with no regard for the consequences. Though they themselves were no strangers to ruthless decisions, they could not tolerate this upheaval. Yet, for now, they were powerless to stop it. The scrolls had already spread across the world, and the tide of change was unstoppable.
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Death Island.
At the heart of a desolate island, shrouded in shadow, stood a cold, dark palace. Within its walls, Hisoka sat atop a towering throne, one hand resting lightly against his cheek. A playful, teasing smile curved his lips as he gazed into the distance, as if envisioning the chaos he had set in motion.
"Let's make this world a little more interesting," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.
Outside the palace, his followers were abuzz with fervor. Bullet, the Demon Heir, stared at the sky, his expression a mix of confusion and resolve.
"Did that man truly do this?" he muttered, then let out a booming laugh.
"Guhahahaha! An unimaginable feat! This is a moment that will echo through history!"
Nearby, Morgans, the bird-headed journalist, gazed at the palace with fanatical admiration. "Lord Hisoka's actions have ignited a new era!" he declared. "The Great Proclamation of Martial Arts! The times have changed, and I can't wait to see what comes next!"
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Calm Belt, Rusukaina Island.
High atop a stone house, Kai sat in quiet contemplation. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, ignored the black scrolls drifting through the sky. His gaze seemed to pierce through the world itself, reflecting a depth of understanding few could fathom.
"The Great Era of Martial Arts?" he mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "Interesting."
His thoughts turned inward, to the system that guided him. Just yesterday, it had provided new information: the next opportunity to unlock an avatar would come in two years. "Two years," he said softly. "Plenty of time to see how this world changes."
He leaned back, his eyes glinting with anticipation. The future was uncertain, but he would be ready.
(End of this chapter )
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Author's Note: This chapter marks the end of this volume. To all the readers who've made it this far, thank you for your support! The second volume will continue the story, and while I can't make grand promises, I'll do my best to keep delivering. I hope you'll stick with me for the journey ahead. It feels a bit bold to say this to such a small group, but… hehe, thank you all!