"Losing is losing. Winning is winning."
"There's no shame in admitting it."
"We lost this time. We'll find a chance to win again."
Though deeply grieved by the loss of Yasopp's life, Red-Haired Shanks remained composed. As a veteran of the seas and an Emperor of the New World, he faced Whitebeard with unwavering dignity.
"Ragnar..."
Shanks's calm and frank attitude made Whitebeard reassess Ragnar even more seriously.
For someone to defeat a Yonko—especially Red-Hair, renowned for his spirit and strength—and for that Yonko to accept it without bitterness...
"That brat of Kaido…"
"He's not ordinary," Whitebeard thought with narrowed eyes.
"Dad…"
Marco and the other captains turned to Whitebeard, waiting silently for his decision.
Before Whitebeard could speak, Shanks took a step forward.
"No matter what your goals are, Whitebeard… the Red Hair Pirates will stand with you."
Moved by the sincerity in Shanks's voice, Whitebeard slowly looked at his sons, then burst into hearty laughter.
"Gurarara! What are you all waiting for?"
"Come with me and meet the new emperor. The one who brought Red Hair to his knees in fair battle!"
Those words shook every heart present.
The strongest man in the world—Whitebeard—was acknowledging Ragnar's status.
Alone.
He stood as Emperor.
After the initial shock, all the captains—Marco, Jozu, Vista—nodded without objection.
A man who defeated two admirals in a single day.
A man who nearly killed a Yonko.
If he wasn't worthy of being called an Emperor… then who was?
"After today…" Marco thought silently, "the name of the Four Emperors might not apply anymore."
The landscape of the New World—and of the Grand Line itself—was shifting.
There would be five Emperors now.
Not just a "fifth emperor" like Luffy, dubbed so by the media and speculation…
But a real force—recognized and feared even by the Navy and the Emperors themselves.
Even the Admirals had fled, battered and broken, rescued only because of Shanks's intervention.
Even Shanks had nearly fallen, his crew on the brink of collapse.
And the Warlords of the Sea?
Just relics. Tools of convenience. Barely footnotes on this battlefield.
Meanwhile…
Having been pulled back from danger by Ragnar, King flew down, landing before Ragnar and Kaido.
"Koff!"
He coughed violently, spitting blood.
Unlike Marco, King lacked a Mythical Zoan's regenerative prowess. After fighting Yasopp to the brink and taking a direct hit from Whitebeard, his strength was barely half its peak.
"It was reckless of me."
"I nearly dragged down Lord Ragnar and Governor Kaido…" he said, kneeling with shame.
Ragnar simply placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You fought well. I'll collect the debt from Whitebeard for you."
"Tch…" Kaido scoffed.
"That old fool dares lay a hand on my people."
Kaido's gaze darkened.
His resolve was set—first to punish the Navy, then to settle matters with Whitebeard in a proper duel.
"Whitebeard…" Yamato whispered.
She had read that name many times in her father's stolen copy of Oden's journal.
Now, with the Moby Dick slowly sailing toward them, her eyes sparkled with curiosity and anticipation.
Under the watchful eyes of those present, the Moby Dick steadily approached. A towering figure stood at its bow—muscular, broad-shouldered, wielding a massive naginata. His aura was immense, his presence unmistakably commanding.
It was Edward Newgate—Whitebeard.
"Kaido!" Whitebeard's deep voice rolled like thunder as he looked down from the elevated bow, eyes narrowed.
Even among the Four Emperors, there was a sense of hierarchy—and from this moment, it was clear: Whitebeard considered himself above the rest.
Kaido scowled, clearly displeased.
"Mind your own business," he growled coldly, veins throbbing on his forehead. "Be careful you don't keel over from sickness before you even step off your ship."
Kaido had long harbored resentment toward Whitebeard. Today, if not for Whitebeard's meddling, **his son—Ragnar—**would have crushed Red-Haired Shanks, ending one of the Four Emperors and claiming that throne.
Not just a symbolic victory.
With Red Hair's fall, the Beasts Pirates would surpass the other Emperors in strength, fame, and influence—
Even the Whitebeard Pirates.
Whitebeard, unfazed, sneered.
"Brat, you don't have what it takes to send me to my grave."
He dismissed Kaido with a glance and shifted his gaze to the youth beside him—Ragnar.
But before Whitebeard could speak, a sudden gust of wind howled through the air.
The captains of the Whitebeard Pirates tensed instantly, drawing their weapons in unison, alert for an ambush.
Yet the wind carried no threat.
It coalesced beneath the feet of Ragnar and his companions, lifting them gracefully into the sky—higher than the Moby Dick, higher than Whitebeard himself.
They now looked down on the old Emperor.
Whitebeard's expression darkened.
"Ragnar, brat…" he muttered, cold light flickering in his eyes. "There ain't a soul born in this sea who gets to look down on me."
But Ragnar acted as if he hadn't heard.
He calmly surveyed the scene from above, speaking to no one in particular:
"Looks like we're off to a decent start."
That detached arrogance was the last straw.
"You little bastard—how dare you talk to Pops like that!"
"Who the hell do you think you are?!"
"Don't think taking down two Admirals gives you the right to look down on Pops!"
The Whitebeard captains erupted in fury, their killing intent spilling into the air.
Among the Whitebeard Pirates, no one—no one—disrespected their father.
Had Ragnar merely landed at eye level with Whitebeard, they might've tolerated it, albeit reluctantly. After all, his battle record was real—two Admirals defeated.
But looking down on Whitebeard?
That was unforgivable.
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