Ron smiled faintly, as if he had anticipated the question long ago.
He replied softly, his voice cutting through the lingering excitement in the room.
"Zoan-type: Snake-Snake Fruit, Model: Yamata no Orochi."
Hearing this, Whitebeard fell into deep thought, his mind flipping through the long-dusty pages of the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia he had committed to memory decades ago.
Seeing their captain's confusion, the rest of the crew exchanged puzzled glances.
What was so special about a mere Zoan fruit?
Ron didn't keep them in suspense.
"Its ability," he stated, his voice calm and clear.
"Grants the user eight lives."
[Hmmm it doesnt necessary grant the user 8 lives but the user need to be behead 8 times for them to die, but then again combine with phoenix power maybe they become immortal somehow]
The moment these words were spoken, the entire room froze as if struck by an invisible force.
Eyes widened, and for a long, silent moment, it seemed as though everyone had forgotten how to breathe.
Each face was etched with a profound, disbelieving shock, their gazes locked on the battered, unconscious form of Kurozumi Orochi.
After what felt like an eternity, someone finally gasped and the entire place erupted into an uproar.
"My God! That ugly thing has eight lives?!"
"What do you mean his eight lives?" another pirate corrected, his eyes gleaming with a new, avaricious light.
"They're about to be ours!"
For a moment, the murmurs rose and fell like waves as they all tried to process this astonishing information.
Even Whitebeard was thoroughly stunned.
The implications were staggering.
To an ordinary person, it was a numerical increase.
But for a top-tier powerhouse standing at the world's peak, it was a path to virtual immortality.
If Roger had possessed such an ability back then... he thought, a wave of complex, bittersweet emotions welling up in his heart.
"Ron... boy," he finally managed, his voice a low rumble.
"Are you telling the truth?"
Ron gave a slight, firm nod.
"It's true, Captain."
Whitebeard fell silent again.
After a long pause, he raised his head, his gaze carrying both the deep affection of an elder and an indescribable trust.
"Ron, my son," he said, his voice gentle but firm.
"I refuse."
"Huh?" Ron was momentarily stunned, clearly not expecting such an answer.
"Captain, you're...?"
"This Enchantment," Whitebeard continued, a wise, weary smile on his face.
"Should be yours. I'm already halfway in the grave. What use do I have for extra protection? With the power of three Devil Fruits, there are very few left in these seas who can truly threaten this old man."
"But..." Ron was at a loss for words.
The offer was tempting.
Eight extra lives... the ability to revive even after a fatal blow.
Who wouldn't be tempted? Yet, just as the thought crossed his mind, a sudden, profound realization struck him with the force of a revelation.
He was a scientist, a creator.
His path was to grant power, to arm his family, to change the world through his intellect.
To consume a fruit himself... it felt like a deviation, a distraction from his true purpose.
It felt... meaningless.
He slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting Whitebeard's.
He knew his captain was nearly invincible, but the world was full of treachery.
"Captain," he began, his voice taking on a new urgency.
"Although I deeply desire such an ability, I believe you need it more right now. You are our core, our pillar. Only by ensuring your absolute safety can we face what's coming."
Whitebeard listened, his brow slightly furrowed.
"The entire world is searching for us," Ron continued, painting a grim picture.
"Kaido has even issued a three hundred billion Belly bounty to lure us into a war. There are countless traps hidden behind that offer. The Marines are on high alert, with the Admirals and even the Five Elders monitoring our every move. If our true location is exposed, we'll face a storm of relentless retaliation. And beyond that, there are all the other unknown forces, the sharks in the water who covet our secrets. The situation is incredibly dangerous, Captain. We need you to be unkillable."
Ron took a step closer, his gaze firm as he looked at Whitebeard, his tone even more sincere.
"In this situation, your importance is absolute. If you were to fall, the entire Whitebeard Pirates would be finished. Your strength is immense, yes, but this world is full of unforeseeable risks. No one can guarantee that nothing unexpected will happen. By then, it would be too late for regrets."
Ron's heartfelt words laid bare the razor's edge upon which the crew now stood.
He hoped that such direct and earnest communication would persuade his captain to see reason.
Whitebeard listened, a ripple of emotion crossing his weathered face.
He took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a complex storm of feelings.
Indeed, at his age, life and death were no longer his primary concerns.
He had long been mentally prepared for the end.
Yet, Ron's words struck him like a sharp blade, forcing him to reconsider.
He was the father of his crew.
If anything were to happen to him, the entire crew would face an unprecedented crisis.
The vultures of the world who coveted their power would descend in an instant.
The thought of his sons—these young, vibrant lives—being captured and turned into helpless lab rats made his heart ache as if cut by a knife.
But he also understood Ron's own vital importance.
He hesitated, caught in a deep and profound conflict.
"Pops," Marco urged, sensing his father's turmoil. "What Ron says makes sense. With the whole world watching us, if anything were to happen to you, we simply couldn't bear the loss."
Ace was even more direct. "Pops, what's there to even think about? It's simple. You succeed with the Enchantment now, then we help Ron earn more money so he can get one later. That's it!"
Seeing the other commanders and subbordinates captains all stepping forward to persuade him with their faces etched with genuine, fearful concern, Whitebeard finally waved his hand, his resolve hardening.
"Gurararara! Alright, enough talking. Fine, I'll eat it!"
A wave of palpable relief washed over the room.
Ron smiled and took out the nine Enchanted Devil Fruits, their pure white surfaces seeming to hum with a strange, otherworldly energy.
"Captain," he said, "let's begin."
Whitebeard stepped forward, his eyes filled with determination.
He picked up the first fruit and swallowed it without hesitation.
He waited.
After several minutes, aside from the foul taste, there was no miraculous transformation.
He shook his head and picked up the second.
Everyone held their breath.
"The third fruit... failed," Whitebeard's voice was a low, firm rumble.
"The fourth fruit... also failed!"
With each announcement, the anxiety in the room grew thicker.
"...The eighth fruit... failed!"
Time passed, until only the last Enchanted Devil Fruit remained.
Everyone's heart was in their throat.
This was their final chance.
Even Whitebeard hesitated, staring at the small, unassuming fruit in his hand.
"Eat it, Captain," Ron urged, his own voice tinged with a nervous anticipation.
"Based on my calculations, the probability is on our side. One out of nine should succeed."
These nine fruits represented a staggering nine billion Belly—every coin they had looted from Kaido, every ounce of gold they had mined from Sky Island, all condensed into this one, final hope.
Whitebeard remained silent for a long moment.
He knew failure meant not only the loss of immense wealth but also the deprivation of his sons' chances to grow stronger.
He looked at Ron, whose own face was beaded with sweat, and saw not just a scientist, but a son who was betting everything on him.
"Please trust my judgment, Captain," Ron urged once more.
"We've made the most thorough preparations. All that's left is this final step."
"Hmph." Whitebeard pondered for one last second before decisively placing the last Enchanted Devil Fruit into his mouth.
As the familiar, revolting taste spread across his tongue, he swallowed it whole, the hope of his entire family now resting within him.
-----------------------------
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