Ragnar's palm trembled slightly.
He flicked the blood-stained edge of his three-pointed double-edged sword, splattering the blood of the Four Emperors onto the severed half of the Red Force drifting atop the sea.
"What a pity..."
Watching the ship spirit desperately ferry the wounded Red-haired Shanks and his remaining crew away, Ragnar made no move to pursue. He simply stood still, his voice tinged with distant regret.
"Ah…"
Kaido landed beside him with a heavy thud, standing to Ragnar's left. Like his son, he made no attempt to chase—just a deep sigh escaping his lips.
"…"
On Ragnar's right stood Yamato, silent. Her gaze followed the retreating Red Force, her hands clenched, but she said nothing.
"You want to retreat now?"
King, the Flame Disaster, sneered coldly as he watched the Red Hair Pirates flee. He spread his massive wings, and with a flap, shot into the air like a bolt of lightning.
"Twin Emperors of the Blade!"
With a cry, he closed the distance of several hundred meters in an instant, his presence soaring above the retreating Red Force like death incarnate.
"King, return!"
Ragnar's expression shifted. His brows furrowed as he raised his voice sharply.
"Master, why?!"
King's voice echoed behind him as flames erupted along his back, preparing to strike. The opportunity was perfect—an Emperor wounded, his crew disorganized. King was already a bullet mid-flight.
"This is our best chance to erase the Red Hair Pirates from the Four Emperors!"
But before Ragnar could answer, the sky and sea themselves began to vibrate—no, it was more than that.
It was a quake.
"This power…!"
King's pupils contracted sharply.
"The Tremor-Tremor Fruit!"
Before he could react, a world-shaking force crashed down from all directions, warping the very air around him.
BOOM—
His body froze mid-air, like a pterosaur caught in the maw of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Blood erupted from all seven orifices.
Fwsh!
A green-blue shadow burst across the horizon, moving with speed no less than King's.
"Marco!"
King's vision blurred. His bones creaked, his muscles tore under the quake's pressure. He couldn't even move as the Phoenix approached.
The glowing figure of Marco the Phoenix streaked through the air, his form partially transformed into that of his mythical Zoan.
"Yo," Marco greeted casually, landing beside the paralyzed King. "Been a while, Flame Disaster."
Then, with a brilliant flash of white, his leg—coated in Armament Haki and shaped like the talon of a three-legged bird—slammed downward:
"Phoenix Seal!"
CRACK!
King's body bent with the impact, crashing through the sky like a meteor.
"Whitebeard… Marco…!" he choked out. Rage and disbelief twisted his bloodied face.
And then realization dawned.
He finally understood—Yamato had remained calm. Kaido, the tyrant of the seas, had not lifted a finger. And Ragnar, ruthless and cunning, had let Shanks go.
It wasn't sentiment.
It wasn't hesitation.
It was calculation.
The ghostly form of the ship elf hadn't swayed them—no, it was the arrival of the world's strongest crew.
The Whitebeard Pirates were here.
"What a pity…" King recalled Ragnar's earlier words, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
It wasn't regret over sparing Shanks.
It was regret… that he was about to pay the price for stepping one foot too far.
Against monsters who had already sensed the earthquake before it struck.
They all knew that with just the strength of the four of them—exhausted from a series of fierce battles—it was impossible to take down both the Whitebeard Pirates and the Red-Hair Pirates at the same time.
That was why none of them bothered to give chase.
"When did it become your right to discipline my people... Whitebeard!"
Just as King braced himself, ready to take Marco's Phoenix Brand like a lamb to the slaughter, a cold voice laced with fury and divine pressure sliced through the sky. A flash of golden divine light followed—sharp as a divine lance—blasting from behind King like judgment from the heavens.
Boom!
The light tore through the sky and pierced Marco cleanly mid-kick, stopping him cold.
"Ggh!" Marco grunted in pain as his body spasmed and dropped toward the sea like a broken bird.
But just before he hit the water, blue phoenix flames erupted from his wounds.
As the regenerative flames consumed the injury, the spear-like wound closed cleanly. The pain faded.
Flap—!
With a great beat of his flaming wings, Marco halted inches above the ocean, then slowly lifted himself back into the air.
Above, King blinked in disbelief—then steadied himself. But he made no move to retaliate.
Instead, King looked down and locked eyes with Marco.
For a brief moment, pterosaur and phoenix hovered mid-air in silence, two beasts of legend acknowledging each other.
Then, as if by mutual agreement, they turned away and flew back—King toward Ragnar, Marco toward the Moby Dick.
Under the blood-red sunset, the Moby Dick crested a wave and sailed toward the distant, tattered Red Hair Pirates.
Marco touched down lightly on the bow, landing beside a towering man with a naginata resting on his shoulder.
A deep, warm voice greeted him.
"You alright, Marco?"
Whitebeard's gaze swept over his son, his voice as calm as the sea before a storm.
Marco nodded as he rose, his body still faintly glowing with embers. "Come on, Pops. You think I'd go down that easy?"
But even as he joked, Marco's eyes turned toward a solitary figure in the distance—the man who had stopped him with a single attack.
"…No wonder he beat Red Hair. That guy's on another level."
He clenched his fist slightly, remembering the pain from the divine light that pierced even his regeneration. His tone grew heavier.
"He's more terrifying than Kaido."
"Huh?"
Diamond Joz, who had just walked over, froze mid-step.
"More terrifying than the Strongest Creature in the World?" he echoed, his face stunned.
Around them, Vista, Izo, and the other captains stared at Marco, caught off guard by his words.
Even hardened veterans of the New World were momentarily speechless.
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