"You exaggerate. A Yonko is not someone we can afford to provoke," Wilder said, his tone placid, offering conciliatory words. His actions, however, were the exact opposite. In a flash, his body appeared directly beneath Cracker, a leg lashing upwards to collide with the descending giant sword!
CLANG~!
Crackle-crackle-CRACKLE…!
Sparks and sizzling arcs of what looked like "electric teeth" danced at the point of impact. Foot against sword, one ascending, the other descending, they clashed with immense force. A shockwave rippled outwards, accompanied by the deafening roar of an air burst! The crackling, electric energy seemed to lock them in a stalemate, power surging from both foot and sword, neither willing to yield an inch. Though their initial movements had ceased, an invisible, ferocious struggle of power raged within that static lock, the sizzling, crackling sound intensifying!
The suddenness of their engagement caught everyone off guard, especially the pirates on Big Mom's ship. They had arrived with an air of arrogant superiority, confident that with Cracker leading them, no one could possibly stand against them. Yet, from the very outset, events had veered wildly from their expectations. The sight of the two combatants locked in a power struggle, their clash generating sparks and these "electric teeth," etched looks of profound shock onto the faces of all onlookers.
The surprise was mutual: Wilder's crew was taken aback by Cracker's strength, while Cracker's men were equally stunned by Wilder's power.
Though it felt like an eternity, the exchange had been instantaneous. After being locked in that fierce stalemate for a brief moment, both combatants sprang apart, landing back on their respective decks, facing each other once more.
"Lucifer Wilder, do you wish to challenge the Big Mom Pirates?" Cracker spoke again, his voice now a low rumble, devoid of its earlier anger. In his Biscuit General form, his frame was even more imposing than Wilder's.
Wilder remained silent. It was Vice who, his face flushed with anger, spoke first. "Ridiculous! Who was it that rammed into whom first? Why don't you just admit you were looking for trouble?"
"Perhaps… they've grown accustomed to throwing their weight around," Bilvat chimed in, swirling the wine in his glass, a faint, mildly sarcastic smile playing on his lips.
Cracker's eyes narrowed dangerously, his gaze sweeping over Vice and Bilvat. "Are your subordinates always this undisciplined? Or perhaps… their words carry more weight than yours, Captain?"
Wilder's expression was placid, his gaze deep and heavy. "That is not something Your Excellency need concern yourself with. If there is nothing further, please be so kind as to depart. We… are in a hurry."
"No one leaves today until this matter is settled," Cracker declared, raising his longsword. His words caused the faces of Wilder's crew to turn utterly cold.
"Meaning… you intend to declare war on me now?" Wilder's gaze lifted, an icy light glinting within his eyes. He looked directly at Cracker, his voice now stripped of any pretense, laced with undisguised coldness and killing intent.
Cracker's expression flickered. His eyes scanned the assembled forces on the Black-Red Warship, and his pupils contracted slightly. It was only then that he truly registered the terrifying combat potential arrayed before him. If it truly came to an all-out battle… the men he had brought with him would likely not be enough.
The atmosphere grew heavy, charged with unspoken threats. Cracker felt the situation slipping beyond his control, a discomfiting sensation akin to riding a tiger and finding it impossible to dismount. His mission had been to probe Wilder's intentions, but it had now escalated into this. A wave of irritation washed over him, and a restless, murderous aura began to emanate from his form.
Should I just disregard everything and kill them all? The thought tempted Cracker. But if he did, his own subordinates would undoubtedly suffer devastating losses, and Mama would surely punish him severely upon his return.
Just as the two sides stood locked in this tense, escalating confrontation, the shadowy silhouette of another vessel emerged from the mist in the distant sea, instantly drawing the attention of everyone present.
"That is…"
"A Marine warship?"
"Indeed. Marine surveillance, as expected."
Wilder and Cracker both tensed. "A warship…"
Someone, using a spyglass, peered across the vast distance and managed to make out the tall, ramrod-straight figure standing on the warship's deck. His body gave a violent tremor, and his voice trembled as he stammered, "Ki… Kizaru… Borsalino!"
"What?!" The others, hearing this, also underwent a drastic change in expression, their hearts pounding in their chests!
Wilder frowned, his gaze on Cracker turning decidedly dangerous. He detested this feeling of events spiraling beyond his control. What would the Marines think if they discovered Cracker aboard his ship? Wilder's expression grew colder, more menacing. Hopefully, they've been monitoring us for some time now, long enough to have witnessed my clash with Cracker. Otherwise…
Cracker, on the other hand, wasn't considering such nuances. His primary concern now was how to extricate himself from this predicament. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Being monitored by the Marines was something he had anticipated. What he hadn't expected was the personal appearance of Kizaru himself. Was that old man really so idle?! If Kizaru decided to intervene, what had been a non-issue would quickly escalate. Who knew if that "old lecher," on a whim, might decide to attack him while he was isolated, using the opportunity to weaken the Big Mom Pirates? It wasn't an impossibility. While the New World was currently in a state of chaos, and the Marines were stretched thin, the new Fleet Admiral was the kind of man who dared to relocate Marine Headquarters to the New World itself! Would such a man be overly concerned with diplomatic niceties? Any major pirate he encountered, if given the chance, he would undoubtedly try to eliminate.
Cracker was almost certain: if Kizaru reported this situation, Akainu would absolutely issue an order for his annihilation, likely compelling this Warlord, Wilder, to cooperate in the endeavor! It was a perfect opportunity to eliminate a significant threat and simultaneously display the might and authority of the Marines! Given Akainu's personality, he would hardly let such a golden opportunity slip through his fingers.
"Ooh… looks like we've been spotted," Kizaru drawled from the prow of the distant warship, his face a mask of mild surprise as he pursed his lips and addressed the Vice Admiral beside him, who was currently chomping on two cigars.
Smoker's eye twitched incessantly. "No kidding! I told you not to get so close!"
"But if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to see, now would I?" Kizaru replied, after a moment of feigned contemplation, his tone one of utter, unassailable logic.
"I told you we have binoculars, didn't I?!!" Smoker roared in exasperation.
The Marines cowering behind them huddled together, trembling, yet simultaneously awestruck. Their admiration for their superior, Smoker, who dared to address an Admiral in such a tone, knew no bounds.
…
Purupuru… Purupuru…
Aboard the Black-Red Warship, the tense silence was shattered by the ringing of a Den Den Mushi from Cracker's person. He glanced at Wilder, then answered the call with perfect naturalness. "Mama."
"Cracker, how are things progressing? Mama is waiting for you to come back for dinner, you know," Big Mom's voice boomed from the Den Den Mushi, causing everyone's expression to tighten.
Only Wilder remained impassive. He had just been contemplating whether or not to kill Cracker when Big Mom's call had come through.
"Mama, there's been a slight complication. The other party is… uncooperative. And… Kizaru seems to have arrived as well."
"Oh?" The tone on the other end sharpened noticeably. A brief silence followed, as if Big Mom were considering this new development. Before long, her voice came through again. "Cracker, can you kill him?"
The question was delivered with the same casualness one might use to inquire about a meal, yet it made everyone present turn pale, their expressions ugly. They all looked towards Wilder, only to find him remaining unnervingly calm, his expression unchanged from the beginning, silently listening to the conversation. The "him" in her question, of course, referred to Wilder.
Even Cracker, finding himself in this situation, being asked such a question by Big Mom, felt his expression shift slightly, a hint of unease on his face. "Mama, I hate to admit it, but… killing him doesn't seem like it would be that easy." They discussed the matter of killing Wilder as if he weren't even present.
Vice and the others were seething, murderous rage boiling within them. They wanted to act, but an icy, warning glance from Wilder compelled them to restrain themselves. Cracker, holding the Den Den Mushi, felt a bead of sweat trickle down his face. He had been watching Wilder closely, and Wilder's unwavering composure, for some reason, instilled a growing sense of nervousness within him.
"Is that so…" A slight waver entered the voice on the other end of the Den Den Mushi. "Cracker, come back then. Mama has instructed the chefs to prepare a sumptuous dinner for you."
Then, Big Mom's words took a sharp turn, finally directing her attention squarely at Wilder.
"You there, boy… I don't know what your purpose is for entering Mama's territory, but you listen up… Prepare a proper apology gift for me afterwards. I want fifty thousand pounds of sweets and pastries. Then, we'll consider this matter closed. No one will obstruct you further—meaning, my children won't trouble you. Mamamamama!"
Her laughter ceased abruptly. Big Mom's voice turned cold, laced with a naked, unambiguous threat. "Of course… if you can't manage that and still intend to cause trouble in my territory… People will die!"
The chilling words cast a pall over the entire ship. Wilder remained expressionless, offering no verbal response. Cold sweat broke out on Cracker's face. He had a bad feeling about how today was unfolding. "Mama, isn't this a bit… inappropriate?"
"Mamamamama! It's fine, Cracker. He's just a Warlord. Something I can crush with my bare hands."
"Mamamamama!"
"Big Mom," Wilder finally spoke. His face was obscured by shadow, his expression unreadable.
"Hmm?" Big Mom's laughter was cut short.
From beneath the shadow veiling his face, Wilder's eyes seemed to gleam with a crimson light. The corners of his lips curved slightly downwards. His voice was deep and resonant.
"Rest assured, I will prepare a generous gift. You will receive it… very soon!"
An absolute silence descended upon the ship. Vice and the others looked at Wilder, their expressions shifting rapidly, but ultimately settling into a look of unwavering determination and trust.
On the other end of the Den Den Mushi, Big Mom was also silent for a moment. Then…
"Mamamamama! What an obedient child! I'm so sorry for scaring you today! You must come and be Mama's guest when you have time. I'll be sure to entertain you properly!"
"There aren't many sensible children like you left in the world, you know. Mamamamama!"
Big Mom's boisterous laughter still seemed to hang in the air as Cracker's ship began to retreat. Wilder's face remained cloaked in shadow. He watched the departing vessel, the crimson glow in his eyes burning with an extraordinary intensity.
"Big Mom… I hope you'll like this upcoming 'generous gift'."
…
The fleet proceeded on its way unimpeded. Apart from the Marines, no one else was aware that a non-conflict, yet undeniably a conflict, had just occurred between the Yonko Big Mom and the Warlord of the Sea, Wilder.
"Ultimately, it has come time to choose a side, hasn't it?" Wilder mused, entering his captain's cabin, allowing no one to follow.
The Warlords of the Sea were a peculiar power. As one of the Three Great Powers of the sea, their very existence was a construct of the World Government and the Marines. The World Government, or rather the Marines, one of the Three Great Powers, had essentially propped up another. This fact alone spoke volumes.
"Doflamingo was right about one thing," Wilder reflected. "The true rulers of this world aren't the Four Emperors. It's the World Government and the Marines. At least, that's how it is for now."
Wilder was somewhat different from the other Warlords. He had never, from beginning to end, acknowledged himself as a pirate. Of course, his predecessor was another matter. But since his transmigration, he hadn't engaged in any typical pirate activities. He had always focused on silently developing and expanding his own power. So, strictly speaking, he carried no inherent pirate baggage. His ultimate objective had always been singular: to become stronger. For himself to become stronger, and for his forces to become stronger.
Where Wilder resembled the other Warlords was in his possession of his own selfish ambitions; he had never been one to genuinely serve the Marines or the World Government. Everything was for his own benefit. But where he differed was that he didn't harbor the same animosity towards the Marines that many other Warlords did. Yes, those individuals, deep down, still remembered their pirate identities. Whether they admitted it or not, they subconsciously still viewed the Marines as the enemy of all pirates.
Wilder was different. He had never defined anyone, or any particular faction, as his inherent enemy. His philosophy was simple. Whether Marine or pirate, those with whom he had no conflict were temporary friends. Those with whom he shared mutual interests were also temporary friends—and, given the opportunity, such friendships could become permanent. Conversely, those with whom he had conflict were enemies. Those with whom he had no shared interests, their status depended on their relative strength: they could be friends, or they could be enemies, but more often than not, they would simply coexist peacefully.
And now, having come into conflict with Big Mom, she was unequivocally an enemy. When facing a powerful enemy, the logical course of action was to find an even more powerful friend.
Thus, Wilder had reached a point where he was forced to choose a side. Though his own selfish ambitions remained, certain compromises were now necessary. It was like… when a friend helps you, you owe them a debt of gratitude, a favor that must eventually be repaid.
In his cabin, Wilder remained silent for a long moment. He then took out that somewhat special Den Den Mushi and dialed.
"Hello, hello… Who is this?" On the other end, Kizaru picked up a Den Den Mushi used for monitoring, leaned in close, and repeated his question.
"Hello, hello… Why is there no response?" He tapped the Den Den Mushi, then turned to a visibly shocked Smoker.
Purupuru… Purupuru…
Purupuru…
The Den Den Mushi's ringing persisted. Smoker's corner of the mouth twitched incessantly. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and roared at Kizaru, "Wrong one! You picked up the wrong one!"
…
Prompted by Smoker's outburst, Kizaru finally seemed to realize his mistake. With an expression of mild surprise, he fished the ringing Den Den Mushi from his pocket. "Hello, hello… Who is this?"
"It's me, Wilder."