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----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The name, Moby Dick, echoed in Ace's mind, a phantom of a memory that was now his own. The arrival of the flagship, a vessel he knew as home, sent a jolt through him that had nothing to do with Kenji Tanaka's meta-knowledge and everything to do with Portgas D. Ace's soul. A fierce, desperate hope surged in his chest, so potent it almost choked him. They were here. His family was here.
From his vantage point, the scene was a perfect, terrible tableau. The crescent-shaped bay of Marineford, which had been an empty kill-zone moments before, was now teeming with ships. Not just the Moby Dick and its three sister ships, but dozens of others, the vessels of the 43 allied pirate crews under Whitebeard's command. They had surfaced from beneath the waves, a coordinated, impossible maneuver that had bypassed the island's primary defenses entirely. The once-silent plaza erupted into a cacophony of panicked shouts from the Marines, a stark contrast to the grim, determined silence of the pirates.
And there, standing on the prow of the Moby Dick, was the man himself.
Edward Newgate. Whitebeard.
Even from this distance, his presence was overwhelming, a force of nature crammed into the form of an old man. He was colossal, his massive frame draped in his signature white captain's coat, his bare chest crisscrossed with the scars of a hundred battles. In his hand, he held his bisento, a polearm of legendary status that looked like a toothpick in his grasp. The iconic white, crescent-shaped mustache framed a weathered face, and his eyes, deep-set and sharp, scanned the entire battlefield before finally locking onto the one thing that mattered: his son, kneeling on the execution stand.
Ace felt a lump form in his throat. Kenji's mind recognized the legendary Yonko, the Strongest Man in the World. But Ace's heart only saw his Pops. The man who had taken him in when the world wanted him dead, who had given him a family and a name to be proud of. The raw, unfiltered emotion of it, the shame of being captured and causing all this trouble, the sheer, unadulterated love for this man—it was a tidal wave that Kenji's sarcastic, detached soul could barely withstand.
"It has been a while, Sengoku," Whitebeard's voice boomed, amplified by an unseen force, rolling across the plaza like thunder. He wasn't shouting, yet every single person heard him as if he were whispering in their ear. "I trust my son hasn't caused you too much trouble."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, standing beside Ace, gripped the railing, his knuckles white. The veins on his forehead bulged. "Newgate," he growled, his voice tight with fury. "You dare to show your face."
Whitebeard let out a low chuckle. "Gurararara... Just you try and keep me away." He shifted his stance, planting his feet on the deck and gripping his bisento with both hands. "I've only got one thing to say to you," he declared, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "ACE! JUST HANG ON A LITTLE LONGER!"
Ace's head snapped up. It was all he could do not to break down right there.
Then, Whitebeard moved. He drew back his right fist, and the air around it seemed to shimmer and crack, like a pane of glass breaking in slow motion. He threw the punch at nothing.
CRACK!
The world broke.
An ear-splitting shatter sound ripped through the atmosphere. The very air and sea before him fractured, spiderweb cracks of pure white light appearing out of thin air. In the next instant, the sea heaved. The entire bay convulsed as a monumental shockwave erupted from the point of impact. The water rose up, not as a normal wave, but as two colossal walls of water, twin tsunamis that dwarfed the battleships, blotting out the sun as they reared up on either side of the bay, poised to crash down and swallow Marineford whole.
From his perch, Ace had a perfect, horrifying view. It was a power that defied logic, a demonstration of why this man was a living legend. He wasn't just a pirate; he was a walking apocalypse.
The Marines screamed, their perfect formations breaking as they scrambled for purchase.
"It's the Gura Gura no Mi! He can create earthquakes!" a vice-admiral bellowed in terror.
But the Marines had their own monsters.
"Oh, dear," a lazy voice drawled. A figure shot upwards from the trio of chairs seated below the platform. Admiral Aokiji, tall and lanky, landed gracefully on the plaza. He placed a hand into the churning water and a wave of intense cold spread outwards.
"Ice Age."
The effect was instantaneous and breathtaking. The two colossal tsunamis froze solid from the bottom up, the water crystallizing into mountains of jagged ice that now loomed over the bay, casting the entire battlefield in a pale, blue shadow. Aokiji then launched two spears of ice at Whitebeard, which were intercepted and shattered by the Yonko's own shockwave.
The brief silence was broken by a flash of brilliant yellow light. Admiral Kizaru, a lazy, mocking smile on his face, had vanished from his seat.
"Yasakani no Magatama," his voice echoed.
A rain of deadly light particles shot down from the sky, peppering the Moby Dick's deck. Most were deflected by Whitebeard's commanders, but the message was clear. The Admirals were engaging.
Before the light show was even over, the third Admiral, Akainu, stood up. His face was a mask of cold fury, a stark contrast to his colleagues.
"Dai Funka!"
His entire right arm transformed into bubbling, searing magma. He launched a gigantic fist of molten rock into the sky, where it arced over the frozen tsunamis, heading straight for the pirate fleet. It looked like a small volcano descending from the heavens.
Ace watched, his mind a whirlwind of awe and terror. This was the reality of the New World's peak. Powers that could reshape the very landscape, wielded by men who were more akin to gods than mortals. He was so, so out of his league.
As the magma fist began its descent, Whitebeard simply blew a gust of air at it, the force of his breath infused with a shockwave that neutralized the attack, causing it to explode harmlessly in mid-air and rain down as volcanic ash.
The opening salvos were over. The stalemate was absolute.
It was then that Sengoku stepped forward, holding a black Den Den Mushi to his mouth. His voice, amplified, carried not just across the battlefield, but to the entire world watching on broadcast snails.
"There is something the world must know about the man we are about to execute! Ace! State the name of your father!"
Ace froze. Kenji's mind screamed, No, don't do it! Don't give him the satisfaction! But Ace's memories, the years of being hunted, of being whispered about, of living in a shadow he never asked for, took over.
"My father is Whitebeard!" he roared, his voice raw with a mix of pride and defiance. It was the only answer he had ever known, the only one that mattered.
Sengoku's expression was grim. "Wrong."
"YES, HE IS!" Ace screamed back, straining against his chains. "HE'S THE ONLY FATHER I'VE EVER HAD!"
"We searched for you tirelessly back then," Sengoku continued, his voice cold and methodical, ignoring Ace's cries. "We followed every clue the Cipher Pol could find, every rumor of a newborn child. But your mother, in her love for you, performed a trick that defied the very laws of nature. She kept you in her womb for twenty months to hide you from us. And with her last breath, she gave you life, a final act of defiance."
A cold dread washed over Ace. He knew what was coming. The part of him that was Kenji had read this scene a dozen times. But feeling it, living it through the raw, painful memories of Portgas D. Ace... it was a fresh hell.
Sengoku took a deep breath, his voice rising to a crescendo of damning proclamation. "Your true father's name... is the King of the Pirates, Gol D. Roger!"
Silence.
A profound, deafening silence fell over Marineford. The cannons stopped firing. The pirates paused their war cries. The Marines stood frozen in shock. The entire world, watching through the broadcast, held its collective breath.
Then, chaos. The revelation rippled through the crowd like a physical shockwave, a wave of disbelief, then horror, then a twisted sort of understanding. The son of the Demon King himself. The world's most accursed bloodline was still alive.
Ace hung his head, a shadow falling over his face. He could feel the stares of everyone. The judgment. The fear. The hatred. It was the weight he had carried his entire life, the secret that had haunted his every step. To have it laid bare like this, as a tool to justify his death, was the ultimate violation. The shame and rage burned hotter than his Devil Fruit ever could.
Kenji's consciousness, however, was in overdrive. This is it. The big reveal. The justification for this whole insane war. They're not just executing a pirate commander; they're trying to erase a bloodline. To end an era. But they're making a mistake. They're just fanning the flames.
The battle erupted once more, but with a renewed ferocity. The pirates, galvanized by the injustice, charged with even more vigor.
A figure shot out from the Moby Dick, wreathed in blue flames. "Don't you dare lay the blame on Ace for the sins of his father!" Marco the Phoenix yelled, transforming into his mythical Zoan form and soaring towards the execution stand.
At the same time, another commander, the massive 'Diamond' Jozu, ripped a colossal iceberg from the frozen tsunami—a block of ice the size of a small mountain—and hurled it with impossible strength directly at the Admirals.
It was intercepted by Akainu's magma fist, turning the sky into a boiling, hissing cloud of steam.
Amidst the chaos, another, unexpected figure moved. Dracule 'Hawkeye' Mihawk, the World's Strongest Swordsman, drew his legendary black blade, Yoru.
"I am merely curious," he said, his voice calm and detached. "I want to measure the true distance between us... and that man."
He swung his sword. A slash, but not a normal one. It was a compressed blade of air, a flying attack of immense size and power that cut a green, glowing path through the air, screaming towards Whitebeard. It tore through soldiers and ice alike, an unstoppable force of pure swordsmanship.
Before it could reach its target, the slash was intercepted by Jozu, whose body had transformed into glittering diamond, stopping the world's strongest slash with the world's ultimate defense.
Ace watched it all, a helpless spectator to the war being fought in his name. His mind was racing, trying to formulate a plan. Okay, Kenji, think! What are the key points? Squard's betrayal, that's number one. Akainu's taunts. Blackbeard's arrival. And Luffy... oh god, Luffy. The idiot was going to show up eventually and charge in headfirst.
He had to do something. He couldn't just kneel here and watch everyone die for him. But what? He was chained down, a figurehead in his own tragedy.
As if summoned by the sheer scale of the battle, a new combatant made his presence known. From the pirate armada, a shadow fell over the plaza. An immense giant, far larger than any other, was charging forward. It was Little Oars Jr., a descendant of the ancient continent-puller. He brandished a sword the size of a warship, swatting Marines aside like flies as he made a beeline for the execution platform, his eyes locked on Ace.
"ACE! I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU!" Oars roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the fortress. A new, terrifying path was being carved through the heart of the battlefield.