Shanks listened to Teach's pleas for mercy with a blank expression, his heart completely unmoved—neither disdainful nor sympathetic.
He knew enough about Teach to not be surprised that someone of his caliber would beg for his life.
But Shanks was no saint. While he usually appeared easygoing, surviving on the seas for so many years had hardened him. When it came to enemies, he never hesitated to strike.
Just look at what happened to the Kid Pirates—one decisive attack, and their ship was obliterated. Kid learned the hard way that without plot armor, challenging an Emperor of the Sea was nothing short of suicide.
Did people really think the Four Emperors were a bunch of pushovers?
If not for waiting for Carl, Shanks would have already cut Teach down.
At times, the wars between pirates were even more brutal than those between pirates and the Marines.
Shanks cast Teach a cold glance before turning away. He had more important matters to attend to—like checking in on an old acquaintance.
Inside the ship's infirmary, Whitebeard lay motionless on a large bed. Next to him, Hongo was carefully inserting IVs into his body, surrounded by hanging medicine bags.
When Shanks entered, he looked at Whitebeard's still form and asked,
"Hongo, how's Newgate's condition?"
Hongo sighed. "It's as bad as it gets. Age, injuries, illness—his body is completely breaking down. At best, I can keep him alive for another week."
Hearing this, Shanks shook his head and muttered,
"Who would've thought… The great Whitebeard reduced to this state. If he were conscious, he'd probably rather die on the battlefield than waste away like this."
As if responding to his words, Whitebeard's eyelids trembled slightly. But that was all.
Hongo continued, "Maybe he's still got a bit of awareness left. It's a damn shame seeing him like this."
Shanks stepped closer, gazing down at the fallen legend.
"This only proves that a new era is truly coming… Right, Newgate?"
By evening, Shanks and his crew were on the deck, enjoying a meal in the salty ocean breeze. The only one absent was Brûlée, who stayed behind in the cabin to keep Chiffon company.
Meanwhile, Teach and his crew sat near the ship's railing, untouched plates of food placed in front of them. The aroma was rich and enticing, but none of them had an appetite.
Because this was clearly their last meal.
The worst part of dying wasn't death itself—it was waiting for it. Every second felt like an unbearable eternity.
Across the deck, Shanks and his crew were in high spirits.
Lucky Roux tore into a large piece of roasted meat, then wiped his mouth and asked,
"How come the captain's big bro isn't here yet?"
By "captain's big bro," he was, of course, referring to Carl. That was what they called him in private, and over time, everyone just got used to it.
Benn Beckman exhaled a puff of smoke. "Someone like him won't always come at a moment's notice. Besides, we're not on our own turf—he probably can't use his abilities to get here directly."
Shanks, already a bit tipsy, nodded in agreement. His face was flushed as he let out a hiccup and laughed,
"Yeah, He's the Fleet Admiral, after all. He's probably drowning in work… Hahaha, man, being a pirate is way more fun. Poor~"
Buggy, unable to stand Shanks' smug attitude, crossed his arms and scoffed,
"If I were your big brother, I'd beat the crap out of you for saying that!"
Shanks, unfazed, swayed his sake barrel in his hand before suddenly slinging an arm around Buggy's shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.
"Hey, Buggy, admit it—you're jealous, aren't you? Jealous that I've got such an amazing big bro, huh~?"
Buggy's face turned red with rage. "Tch! As if! You're just a damn nepotism baby! Just because you're a Figarland doesn't mean you can do whatever you want!"
Shanks tilted his head, blinking innocently at Buggy. His expression said it all.
Having Carl as a big brother did mean he could do whatever he wanted.
Buggy rolled his eyes and downed his drink, refusing to entertain Shanks any further. He wasn't about to waste his breath on this privileged idiot.
Seeing Buggy sulk only made Shanks laugh even harder.
In the corner, Katakuri silently ate his donuts, occasionally glancing toward Brûlée's room.
He didn't say a word, but deep down, he was worried about his younger sister, Chiffon—especially after hearing earlier that she was pregnant.
Katakuri put his donut down and let out a quiet sigh.
His future nephew… would grow up without a father, just like he had.
Was this the fate of the Charlotte family? Born to be fatherless?
And Chiffon—she loved Teach deeply. If Teach died, would she be able to bear the grief?
As these thoughts consumed him, a familiar voice suddenly echoed from above.
"Enjoying yourselves, huh?"
Katakuri's eyes widened. The rest of the crew also looked up toward the night sky.
Shanks grinned and waved.
"Big Bro!"
Floating above them, arms crossed and wings spread, was Carl. He smirked as he looked down at Shanks before landing smoothly on the deck.
Teach, seeing Carl's arrival, turned pale. His heart sank.
He was done for.
Buggy sat up straight, his muscles tensing as he swallowed nervously.
Shanks strode over, sake barrel in hand, and grinned.
"Bro, you finally made it! I've been waiting all day!"
Carl shot him a sideways glance and smirked.
"Hmph. I've been busy with work. Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of being carefree."
Shanks' smile froze. He scratched his head awkwardly and muttered,
"Uh… you just got here, right?"
"Yeah. But you know, I've got sharp hearing." Carl's smirk widened. "Otherwise, how else would I find my dear little brother in the dark?"
Shanks gulped. His forced chuckle sounded suspiciously like a duck quacking.
Carl took the sake barrel from Shanks, took a deep swig, then turned his attention toward Teach and his men.
Their fates were sealed.
-----------
+230 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg