High above the battlefield, two figures moved like bolts of lightning. The chaotic sounds from below—the clash of steel, the shouts of men, the thunderous presence of Whitebeard—all seemed to fade into a distant roar. Here, in the sky, there was only the whistle of the wind and the percussive impacts of their private war.
"Hey, now! What's the big idea?" Jerry grunted, twisting his body mid-air to avoid a glowing, blue-flamed kick aimed directly at his head. "Is aiming for the face some kind of welcome party tradition for you guys?"
The man opposite him, Marco the Phoenix, simply grinned. His hands, now fully transformed into the wings of a magnificent blue phoenix, beat the air with powerful strokes. He had rocketed toward Jerry with the intent to end the fight quickly, but his opponent was proving to be unnervingly agile.
In response to the kick, Jerry shot forward, his fist coated in the dark sheen of Armament Haki.
The casserole-sized fist grew rapidly in Marco's vision. With a lazy-looking but incredibly swift somersault, he evaded the punch. "You were the one who looked like you were about to cause trouble, yoi."
"I'll never admit to that!" Jerry retorted, always ready for a verbal spar. Seeing Marco's leg swing around for another devastating kick, he used Moonwalk to propel himself higher, contorting his body into an impossible angle. He unleashed a high-speed axe kick, a move so fluid and deceptive it seemed to bend in the air.
As they fought, Marco seized an opening. He flapped his wings hard, gathering momentum before tucking them in and diving like a hawk, his feet, now transformed into sharp phoenix talons, aimed straight for Jerry's chest.
Damn, he baited out a big move with a normal attack?
Jerry thought, his kick having missed its mark. With no time to dodge, he did the next best thing. He twisted his body, using his momentum to spin like a top. Under the morning sun, his right foot began to glow with a faint blue light as he channeled his water-based power into it. He redirected his trajectory and kicked forward again, meeting Marco's dive head-on.
"Starfall Kick!"
The collision was violent. A sonic boom echoed across the sky as the two men were thrown backward, but they recovered in the next instant, rocketing toward each other once more.
Marco's clawed feet slashed through the air with the speed of thunder, each strike powerful enough to rend steel. The wind from his attacks was like a physical force against Jerry's face, but he didn't dare be careless. Weaving and dodging, he met the assault with a storm of his own Haki-infused punches, each one carrying the weight of a cannonball.
Their battle was a masterpiece of aerial combat. They twisted and turned, every clash of fist against talon shaking the air. But it wasn't just a close-quarters brawl. Whenever a powerful blow forced them apart, they would immediately transition to long-range attacks.
Jerry would whip his hands through the air, launching a Water Blade Barrage—dozens of crescent-shaped projectiles of pressurized water that cut through the air. In response, Marco would flap his wings, unleashing waves of the unique blue flames of rebirth. These flames didn't burn with heat but exploded with a potent, concussive force.
The sky became a chaotic canvas of blue, cyan, and white lights, a tempest of water and flame so fast that to those on the ground, it was just a blur of constant, flashing collisions. After a long stalemate, they clashed one final time, a simultaneous, powerful blow landing on each of them. They flew backward, the force finally breaking their rhythm.
They hung in the air, gasping for breath, a tacit ceasefire called between them. The dazzling, chaotic battle scene vanished as quickly as it had begun.
Both men were disheveled. Marco's clothes were rumpled, but more noticeably, an ugly, purple bruise was already forming on his left cheek, a clear souvenir from Jerry's unorthodox kicking style.
Jerry, on the other hand, had prioritized protecting his face. It was clean and untouched, making it look as though he'd just come from a spa day. The price for his action, however, was his casual Hawaiian top, which was now torn to shreds. A set of angry red claw marks decorated his shoulder, the result of barely twisting away in time when a phoenix talon had nearly taken his head off.
While catching his breath, Jerry took a moment to look down, his eyes sweeping across the battlefield. His heart sank. The fighting had stopped. All of it.
Ace, already grievously wounded from his duel with Jinbe, was unconscious, lying in a heap at the feet of the giant, Whitebeard. The rest of the Spade Pirates were scattered across the beach, defeated one by one. Deuce, Skull, Wallace, Mihar, Banshee—all of them were subdued, being watched over by various Whitebeard commanders, including a cheerful-looking man with a pompadour and a burly, dark-bearded man Jerry recognized as Thatch and Teach.
In the entire arena, only he was still standing—or rather, floating.
Jerry closed his eyes, extending his Observation Haki across the entire island. He felt for the emotional state of the victors, and what he found surprised him. From Whitebeard on down to the lowest-ranking crewman, there was no killing intent. None at all. Instead, he sensed a calm, almost cheerful atmosphere. They were pointing up at him and Marco, talking with great interest as if they were watching a sports match.
It must have been Whitebeard's order, Jerry deduced. The enemy's attitude had shifted dramatically from the ferocious onslaught at the beginning to this calm, composed state. It must have been when he saw Ace choose to sacrifice himself for us, and when we refused to leave him.
He turned his head to look at Marco, who was simply flapping his wings, patiently waiting.
Seeing Jerry's gaze on him, Marco offered a slight, weary smile. "So? Still want to fight, yoi?"
"Well…" Jerry began cautiously, "I sense you guys don't intend to hurt them, do you? If everyone can be safe, then there's no need for us to continue this." He gestured with his chin toward his captured crewmates, asking for a truce.
Marco's smile widened, but then he winced as the expression pulled at the bruise on his face. "Don't worry," he said, frowning slightly. "To be honest, Pops has been keeping an eye on your captain for a long time now."
"When we got the news and came here, he told us beforehand to act according to the situation," Marco explained. "If your captain met his expectations, he said to just knock you all out. If not…" He let the threat hang in the air.
Jerry blinked, surprised they had been on Whitebeard's radar for so long. He scratched the back of his neck. "So, the situation now is… your father has decided to spare Ace and not harm the rest of us?"
"You could say that," Marco confirmed. "But we're definitely not letting you go so easily. You did invade our territory, after all." He didn't know exactly what Whitebeard planned to do, but he was sure this was the general direction.
After getting that confirmation, Jerry glanced one last time at his friends, being guarded and controlled below. A wave of relief washed over him. Since they weren't going to be killed, the worst-case scenario was being captured and forced into labor to atone for their transgression. Besides, in his memory of the original story, Ace and his crew did end up with Whitebeard, and they were ultimately treated like family.
Having thought it through, Jerry looked up at Marco, his expression turning serious.
"In that case, it looks like this battle ended in a disastrous defeat for my crew," he said, his voice clear and firm. "There's no point in me fighting you any longer. We surrender."
Marco chuckled. "Really? You're a sly one, yoi. You kick me in the face, and now you want to call it quits before I can even pay you back?" He touched his bruised cheek again, cursing with a smile. "Come on. Let's go. It's up to Pops to decide what to do with all of you."
With the truce agreed upon, the two men descended to the ground. Jerry landed softly on the sand and followed Marco toward the towering figure of Whitebeard.
As they walked, a thunderous cheer erupted from the hundreds of members of the Whitebeard Pirates, a unified roar celebrating yet another victory achieved under their father's flag.