Deep beneath the sea—Impel Down.
Level Six, Infinite Hell.
This was the place where the World Government imprisoned those whose very existence had been erased—monsters of legend.
The air was thick with biting cold and suffocating despair.
Heavy footsteps echoed, breaking the eternal stillness as they drew closer.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure walked forward, ignoring the glances—some curious, some deranged—from within the surrounding cells. He continued straight toward the deepest part.
He stopped before a solitary cell.
Inside, a man wrapped head to toe in bandages and bound by thick Seastone chains struggled to lift his head.
When his weak eyes finally met the visitor's, his pupils shrank sharply.
"You… old man…"
Ace's voice was hoarse and dry, barely audible.
"Why are you here?"
Sitting cross-legged just before the bars was the Hero of the Marines, Monkey D. Garp.
He gazed at his wounded and battered grandson, his eyes a storm of emotions.
"In this state… you're still alive."
Garp's voice was soft, neither joyful nor angry.
"Thanks to you, the entire Marine Headquarters—no, the entire World Government—has fallen into chaos!"
Then, without warning, Garp burst out laughing.
"Ahahahahahahahaha!"
His laughter exploded within the narrow cell, loud, jarring, and utterly out of place.
That laughter carried a mix of helplessness toward the current situation, relief that his grandson was still alive, and a pain buried deep beneath it all.
Ace watched his grandfather laugh, emotions swirling within him—grief, guilt, warmth.
In the end, they all condensed into a trembling, almost pleading whisper.
"Kill… kill me."
"Please… just kill me!"
Garp's laughter stopped dead.
His face hardened, his piercing eyes locking onto Ace with a gravity deeper than the sea itself.
"You want me to kill you?"
"Idiot!"
"You think dying will fix anything? You think your death will make Whitebeard stop?!"
Garp's fists clenched tight, veins bulging as he shouted each word.
"No one can stop it now! We've angered the Emperor of the Sea!"
The phrase "Emperor of the Sea" struck Ace like a hammer, shattering the last fragile piece of hope inside him.
Despair surged over him like a wave, tears spilling uncontrollably down his cheeks.
But then, that despair was washed away by something warm.
So it was true… Pops would really go to war against the world for his sake.
Hot tears ran freely down Ace's face.
In that moment, he saw his inevitable end—and yet, he felt warmth unlike anything he'd known.
"I wanted you and Luffy to become fine Marines."
"But no—look at you two! Forget Marines; you've both become unbelievable troublemakers!"
A ghost of a smile tugged at Garp's lips as he continued, almost fondly.
"You've heard the rumors about that brat Luffy, haven't you?"
"In Water Seven, he openly defied the World Government—declared war, even! Then he went and destroyed Enies Lobby!"
"I rushed there right after, let him taste my fists full of love!"
"But that kid didn't learn a thing! And now, he's caused another uproar at the Sabaody Archipelago!"
Garp's booming laugh returned—this time full of pride.
"Gwahahaha! As expected of my grandson!"
Hearing his brother's name and his grandfather's familiar laughter, a faint, bitter smile crept onto Ace's pale face.
"Oh, right," Garp said suddenly. "I told Luffy about his old man."
"The brat was shocked to learn he even had a father!"
"Hah! That kind of lineage is nothing but trouble, whether you know about it or not."
Garp scratched his head irritably.
"Both Luffy and I carry the blood of a world-class criminal! How the hell are we supposed to be Marines like this?!"
Ace nodded silently, his expression twisting with conflicting emotions—pain, disgust, and shame.
"Portgas… I took my mother's name—the woman who gave me life."
"But that bastard father's blood… it makes me sick."
"He gave me nothing—no memories, no love!"
"Well, still—" Garp began, as if to defend Roger.
"That's enough!"
Ace interrupted, his voice breaking but fierce, echoing with conviction.
"My father…"
"From beginning to end—has only ever been Whitebeard!"
That cry drained every ounce of strength from him, yet carried his lifelong belief.
Garp froze.
He stared at his shackled but resolute grandson, eyes filled with sorrow, pride, and deep helplessness.
He saw the boy who had once wandered, lost and broken by his bloodline—now standing firm, even if it meant walking the path to death.
"…But still…"
Garp's voice trembled.
"Looking at you, beaten and broken—my most beloved grandson…"
The man once hailed as the "Hero of the Marines" could no longer hold back.
He gritted his teeth, forcing out each word like it tore at his soul.
"What the hell am I supposed to do, Ace?!"
"You damn fool!"
"Why couldn't you just follow the path I set for you?!"
Garp's voice cracked as despair overwhelmed him.
A single tear fell, striking the cold stone floor.
Then another.
And another.
Garp wept.
The Iron Fist of the Hero could not hold onto his grandson's fate.
For the first time in his life, he revealed the most fragile, helpless side of himself—not as a hero, but as a grandfather.
Ace looked at his grandfather's tears, his own eyes blurring.
"Old man…"
His voice trembled but was clear.
"I know… you've always cared for me."
"But this path—I chose it myself."
"With Whitebeard's Pirates, I found… my true family."
Garp took a deep breath, roughly wiping away his tears, trying to calm the storm inside.
He was silent for a long while before meeting his grandson's gaze again. The anger was gone, replaced by something gentler, more human.
Finally, he sighed.
"Yes, Ace…"
He murmured softly, to Ace—and perhaps to himself.
"That old man Whitebeard… he accomplished what that bastard Roger never could."
"He gave you… a real family."