On the Moby Dick
As Marco resolutely chose to stay behind, a surge of grief, anger, frustration, and even a trace of hesitation swept through the Whitebeard Pirates.
"Dad, we can't let Marco be the last one!"
"He'll die if he faces Ragnar alone!"
"The Phoenix isn't truly immortal!"
"Idiot! If we stay now, wouldn't that make Marco's sacrifice meaningless?"
"Bastard! So you'd just watch Marco die?"
In an instant, all the captains and crew were arguing, their voices hoarse and faces flushed.
Some were ready to stay, to live and die with Marco.
Others, more rational, insisted they couldn't let his sacrifice be in vain.
"SHUT UP!"
Whitebeard's thunderous roar silenced everything.
The man who had always been a kind, fatherly presence on this ship was shouting—for the first time.
"Dad..."
Everyone froze.
The sight of Whitebeard, who had never raised his voice at his sons, now stern and fierce, shocked them deeply.
And when their eyes met his...
Those tiger-like eyes, hardened by the trials of time—were shimmering.
A mist of tears was building in the corners.
The world's strongest man... was crying.
That moment hit harder than any quake.
Whether they were ready to die with Marco, or had chosen to retreat in pain—they all fell silent.
Only then did they understand...
The one suffering the most as Marco flew off into danger wasn't any of them.
It was their father.
Whitebeard.
"I give the order... in the name of your captain!"
Whitebeard looked around at all his sons, his voice trembling as he used his power to gently shake away the mist in his eyes.
"Retreat."
That single word seemed to drain all his strength.
They suddenly saw it—
The towering, invincible man in their memories now seemed... a little more hunched.
The weight of time had pressed a little harder on his back.
He looked older than ever.
"Marco!"
Whitebeard looked at the fiery figure soaring in the distance.
Then he turned away—
Afraid that if he watched even one second longer, he might lose control of his fury.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!"
He roared.
And then—
BOOM!
A punch shattered the very air.
A shockwave, born from the fury of the world's strongest man, exploded outward.
Charlotte Linlin and Kaido were both knocked back.
The pursuing pirate ships were sent flying by the crashing waves.
Even the sea itself warped—like broken steps spiraling downward from the sky.
This... was Whitebeard's anger.
This... was Edward Newgate's power.
To anyone but emperor-level warriors, numbers meant nothing against him.
Especially in the sea—where there was nowhere to find footing.
As long as Ragnar was held back, no one could stop him.
Not even two Emperors.
He turned his gaze to the life card trembling in his palm.
"Ragnar..."
"You'd better not let me see Marco's life card burn."
"If anything happens to him..."
"I, Edward Newgate, swear on my life—"
"I'll send your entire bloodline to the bottom of the sea... to accompany my son."
He didn't look back at Kaido or the others.
He simply stared at that small slip of burning paper...
And no one saw the mist in his eyes begin to fall.
...
On the other side.
After leaving his parting words to Whitebeard, Marco's heart no longer wavered.
Knowing full well that the key to the Whitebeard Pirates' survival rested solely on Ragnar, he focused his resolve.
With a sharp glint in his eye, he manipulated the blazing blue flames surrounding his body, condensing them into a circular shield to forcibly block the oncoming slashing wave.
Then, with his talons glowing in a fierce mix of black and blue, Marco gripped the wave head-on.
"Phoenix Seal!"
A radiant bird-claw imprint was etched onto the slashing wave—an instant later, an immense shockwave detonated from its core.
Bang!
The towering wave that had nearly swallowed the sea was torn apart like shattering glass.
It burst into a storm of luminous fragments.
Bathed in stardust-like radiance, the phoenix soared into the sky.
In the blink of an eye, Marco had leapt high above the sea, now hovering directly over Ragnar's towering form.
"Crane Claw!"
Facing an opponent dozens of times his size, Marco showed no fear.
He raised one leg and brought it down with a powerful, precise kick aimed at Ragnar's forehead.
"Marco, you think you can fight me?"
Ragnar didn't even raise an eyebrow.
As if Marco's movements were beneath notice, he simply stood atop the sea—unmoved, unbothered—as Marco's Crane Claw landed squarely on his forehead.
Boom!
A shockwave burst through the sky with thunderous force.
A mountain would have crumbled under that blow.
Yet Ragnar remained rooted in place—not even a step back, not a single scratch.
"Ragnar," Marco said calmly, hovering in front of him, "of course I know that no matter how long I train, I'll never be strong enough to defeat you."
"But I'm not here to win."
"I'm here to keep you here."
In the face of a monster who had defeated the top combatants of both the Four Emperors and the Marines in a single day, Marco stood undaunted.
There was no fear in his eyes—only quiet defiance, and the steady resolve of a phoenix willing to burn for the sake of his family.
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