"Damn it!"
"If only I were five years younger."
"If I were just five years younger, illness and aging wouldn't be holding Dad back at all."
Just like Marco, Diamond Jozu—who had followed Whitebeard since childhood—felt a growing pain and helplessness gnawing at him.
If he weren't injured, he would've already rushed in to help.
But neither of them realized—
At that very moment, someone else was watching with even deeper pain and fury.
"Damn you… Dad!"
"Are you really this old now?"
"You've fallen… this far?"
In an inconspicuous corner of the Moby Dick, Teach stared at Whitebeard. His eyes were bloodshot, face twisted with anger and hatred.
He had once worshipped Whitebeard's strength—that's why he followed him.
But now?
Now he couldn't accept it.
Couldn't tolerate it.
The man he had once viewed as an unshakable mountain, an invincible god—was crumbling before his eyes.
"You don't deserve it."
"The father I followed… you're not him anymore."
"You're not worthy to lead me, Whitebeard."
As these roars echoed within his heart, Teach's ambitions grew stronger.
So too did his thirst—for the Dark-Dark Fruit.
He hated this decline. Hated seeing Whitebeard grow older, weaker, day by day. He'd rather kill that image now than watch it fade slowly.
If the legend must fall, let it fall in glory—preserved forever in memory.
"Gurara!"
While the other Whitebeard captains—and even Red-Haired Shanks—were still worrying over Whitebeard's condition...
A familiar, booming laugh suddenly rang out.
"You three-eyed brat—if you think you can take my head, you're a hundred years too early!"
Despite Ragnar's pressure bearing down on him, Whitebeard stood unshaken.
Boom—
He loosened his left hand from the hilt of the Kusunokiri blade.
In the next instant, a translucent air-shield shimmered around his fist.
Then, he punched—sideways—straight at the descending three-pointed, double-edged spear.
As fist met blade, the air-shield burst like a popped bubble.
Boom!
But in the moment it shattered, Whitebeard's overwhelming shockwave exploded outward.
The spear—wielded with all of Ragnar's might—was halted mid-swing, shaken violently by that single punch.
Ragnar's hand trembled. The weight of the shock force made it impossible to keep his weapon steady.
Whitebeard had deflected it.
With a single blow.
"YES!"
"Dad! That was amazing!"
"Just like I said—Dad's still the strongest!"
Marco and the others, who had been holding their breath in worry, now erupted in cheers.
But even as the atmosphere shifted toward hope—
A flash of golden light suddenly flickered beside Whitebeard.
He was still frozen in mid-punch, one hand gripping his blade, the other having just parried Ragnar's attack.
But now…
The towering Ragnar—feet on the sea, head in the clouds—was gone.
In his place, stepping calmly from the golden light, was a man of ordinary height.
Ragnar again.
"Kizaru's ability…?"
Far away, Red-Haired Shanks' pupils shrank.
The change had happened too fast.
Only he, Kaido, and Big Mom noticed what had truly occurred.
The others? They were still caught up in the glory of Whitebeard's defiant punch.
They hadn't realized that Ragnar had already shifted tactics.
And now—
Lightning crackled across his body.
Behind him formed the glowing figure of Lei Zhenzi—winged, red-faced, gripping his divine thunder chisel.
Boom…
But at that moment, Ragnar's fist—wreathed in swirling black-and-white thunder and crackling with the Overlord's Conqueror Lightning—had already smashed into Whitebeard's waist.
"Overlord Lei Zhenzi!"
As the punch landed, the thunder spirit Lei Zhenzi behind him swung his thunder chisel violently.
In an instant, twin thunders—one black, one white—merged and surged over Ragnar's arm, completely engulfing his fist and crashing into Whitebeard's body.
BOOM!
Blinding lightning split the sky.
The full force of the Overlord's divine power erupted.
Thunder and Conqueror's Haki entwined into a storm of destruction, unleashing a cataclysmic shockwave that shattered the sea itself.
The colossal blast, interwoven with howling gales, swept across the ocean and scattered the Whitebeard Pirates' ships like leaves in a storm.
Before the commanders could even steady their footing, a figure—battered and burned—was blasted backwards from the towering pillar of black-and-white lightning that tore through the clouds.
"Dad!"
Marco's face turned pale.
But as the First Division Commander, his instincts kicked in at once.
With a burst of speed, blue flames flared from his back as his phoenix wings spread wide. He shot forward like an arrow, breaking through the air and catching Whitebeard mid-flight.
Bang!
But the moment his blazing wings touched Whitebeard, the sheer force still carried through.
Marco's chest caved slightly under the impact. His vision blurred. His throat surged, and blood gushed up uncontrollably.
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