The five-day war of endurance had reached its breaking point. While Jinbe's mastery of Fishman Karate was absolute, the constant fighting on land had slowly but surely taken its toll, denying him the infinite source of power the ocean provided. Correspondingly, Ace had been forced to push his Devil Fruit abilities to their absolute zenith. On Jerry's advice, he had long since moved past creating simple, wide-ranging fire attacks. He had learned to manipulate the very properties of his flames, compressing them to achieve scorching temperatures that could melt steel and vaporize water in an instant.
It was a battle of fire against water, Haki against Haki, and sheer, unyielding willpower against itself.
Now, on the dawn of the fifth day, both men were running on fumes. They were equally exhausted, equally wounded, their bodies screaming in protest with every movement.
With a final, desperate roar, Ace poured the last dregs of his strength into a single attack. His fist, wrapped in flickering, exhausted flames, was a shadow of its former glory, but it still carried the weight of his conviction.
Across from him, Jinbe saw the attack coming. He braced his feet in the sand, his body a canvas of bruises and minor burns from the scattered embers. He could only manage to throw a simple, straight punch, a raw block fueled by the last of his stamina. The two fists collided. Ace's fire was dispersed, but the concussive force of the aftermath was too much. The Knight of the Sea was thrown backward, landing heavily in the sand. His traditional robes, already singed, began to smolder. He struggled for a moment, then lay still, unable to rise.
After unleashing the blow, the flames engulfing Ace's body vanished as if they had been snuffed out. Seeing his opponent fall, a wave of relief washed over him. His body, no longer supported by adrenaline, finally gave out. He swayed on his feet, his vision blurring, before collapsing to the ground.
Silence fell over the beach, broken only by the sound of the waves.
Then, a cheer erupted from the Spade Pirates.
"He did it! The captain won!"
From their perspective, their captain was the last one standing, if only for a second. Deuce, his face etched with worry, didn't join the celebration. He bolted forward, sprinting toward his fallen captain to check his condition.
But Jerry didn't cheer, nor did he move toward Ace. He stood frozen, his head turned toward the sea, his eyes narrowed. The dense morning fog was like a heavy white curtain, and behind it, his Observation Haki was screaming a warning.
Deuce knelt beside Ace, whose body was covered in wounds. "Ace! Ace, can you hear me?!" he yelled, shaking his shoulder gently. He had never seen his captain in such a state. Thanks to his Logia powers, Ace was almost never injured in a fight. "I don't care if you can hear me or not, you're in no condition to move! I'm getting you out of here, right now!"
A low groan escaped Ace's lips. "…Deuce… the fight… it's not over yet…" His body was powerless, but his spirit, his warrior's intuition, knew the truth.
"No! I don't care about any fight!" Deuce interrupted, his voice thick with panic. "We're leaving! Now!"
He hooked his arms under Ace's shoulders, preparing to drag him toward their ship. But as he looked up, he froze. A strange, unnatural shadow was moving in the fog. It was silent, impossibly large. Then, the mist parted, and a gasp was torn from Deuce's throat.
It was a ship, but it was more like a floating fortress. Multiple masts soared into the sky, their massive sails billowing in the wind. The bow was carved into the likeness of a colossal white whale, an iconic visage known and feared throughout the world. It approached the shore without a sound, a ghost ship emerging from a dream.
Deuce's pupils shrank to pinpricks. He knew, with chilling certainty, who had arrived.
A voice, deep and resonant as a rumbling earthquake, boomed from the ship's bow, carrying across the water with effortless power.
"So, little devils… you came all this way to take my head?"
Standing on the rail was a figure of unbelievable size and presence. He was a giant of a man, his bare chest crisscrossed with scars, a white, crescent-moon-shaped mustache dominating his face. Before he even drew close, the sheer weight of his existence was suffocating.
"The… Whitebeard Pirates?" Deuce whispered, his voice trembling.
The man on the bow was none other than the undisputed king of the New World, the Strongest Man in the World: Edward Newgate, "Whitebeard."
"Well, come on, then!" he roared, a grin stretching across his face. "I'm standing right here!"
With that, he leaped. He cleared the distance from the ship to the shore in a single bound, landing with a ground-shaking thud that sent sand flying. He stood before them, holding his enormous bisento, its long handle planted firmly in the ground.
And then, the world ended.
An invisible, unstoppable force erupted from him. It wasn't a sound or a physical attack, but a wave of pure, absolute authority that swept over the Spade Pirates. For them, it was as if the pause button on reality had been pressed. The air became thick as stone, their lungs refused to draw breath, and a primal terror seized their minds. They groaned in pain, their legs giving out from under them as they collapsed to their knees.
It was the Conqueror's Haki of an Emperor.
At the same time, figures began to appear on the deck of the Moby Dick. They leaped to the shore one after another, fanning out with practiced ease, their movements calm and deliberate. In seconds, the disorganized Spade Pirates were completely surrounded.
Jerry, who had shouted a warning the moment he sensed their approach, was helpless. His own Haki was strong, but it was like a candle against a supernova. He couldn't shield his crewmates; to even try would be to risk crushing them between the two colliding pressures. He could only watch as Whitebeard flexed his will, thankful that the Emperor hadn't used his full strength, as no one had lost consciousness.
The suffocating pressure receded, but the terror remained. Whitebeard raised his massive weapon, swinging it several times in a casual blur, launching multiple crescent-shaped slashes of pure force that screamed through the air toward the downed pirates.
The screams of his crewmates and the overwhelming pressure of Whitebeard's presence shocked Ace's system. His hazy consciousness snapped back into focus. His eyes flew open to see the deadly projectiles flying toward his family.
A force born of pure desperation surged through him. He shoved Deuce away with a strength he didn't know he had, sending him stumbling back toward the others. Scrambling to his feet, he threw his arms wide open.
"Flame Commandment: Wall of Encircling Flames!"
A colossal wall of fire erupted from the ground, soaring dozens of feet into the air. It formed a perfect, blazing circle, isolating Ace and Whitebeard inside while intercepting every single one of the deadly attacks.
Staggering within his fiery fortress, Ace shook his head violently to clear it, and roared at the giant before him, his voice cracking with exhaustion and defiance.
"You're my target! I came here to take your head and surpass the King!"
"Oh?" Whitebeard's expression didn't change. He regarded the young, battered pirate with a calm, almost lazy gaze. "All by yourself, boy? You're an arrogant one."
"Ace! What are you doing?! Get out of there!" Deuce screamed from outside the inferno, his voice filled with despair.
"You guys, get out of here! Now!" Ace roared back, not daring to look away from Whitebeard. "That's a captain's order! Escape!"
"Stop kidding, Ace! We fight together!" came the unified cry from his crew. They had no intention of abandoning their captain.
Whitebeard chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "What's this? I thought you came to defeat me. Are you getting scared already? Planning to run away?"
Ace met his gaze, his eyes burning with resolute fire. "Let my crew go," he said, his voice firm despite his trembling body. "In return… I won't run."
For a moment, Whitebeard looked disappointed. Then, a massive, booming laugh erupted from his chest.
"GURARARARA! You arrogant little brat! You've got some nerve!" The look in his eyes changed from disappointment to genuine admiration.
What Ace didn't know was that his noble sacrifice was already in vain. Outside his wall of fire, his companions were hopelessly surrounded.
Jerry, who had been about to try and force a path for his crew to escape, suddenly felt a new presence lock onto him. A figure rocketed out from the crowd of Whitebeard commanders, landing directly in front of him—a man with a lazy expression and a head of hair shaped uncannily like a pineapple. Blue flames flickered around his shoulders.
Marco, First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. A user of the Mythical Zoan, the Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Phoenix.
He had followed Whitebeard ashore and his eyes had immediately found Jerry. While Wano was a closed country, rumors still trickled out. Whispers of a pirate who had defeated Jack the Drought, one of Kaido's All-Stars, had reached them. Marco knew he couldn't allow such a dangerous variable to act freely.
The moment Jerry saw the pineapple-headed man staring at him, he knew his chance to hide was over. He quickly slipped away from the main group, preparing himself for battle. The man in front of him was one of the strongest pirates in the world.
Well, this is a problem, Jerry thought grimly. Pineapples are prickly. Getting hit by one is probably going to hurt.