Gojo had also, of course, seen the red-haired pirate's ship. Still flying through the sky with a firm grip on Ace's shoulder, he vanished instantly. In the very next heartbeat, he materialized on the deck of the Red Hair, standing directly in front of Shanks as if he had always been there. The sudden arrival stirred the air for a fraction of a second before a heavy silence settled over the deck.
Of course, it wasn't just Gojo and Ace who had spotted the Red Hair Pirates; Shanks' crew had also noticed them approaching from a distance. Dozens of eyes had already turned upward long before the duo landed.
Gojo casually let go of Ace, who landed firmly on the wooden deck. For a brief moment, the atmosphere turned strangely still as the rescued son of Whitebeard stood face-to-face with one of the Four Emperors.
Shanks looked at Gojo, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Gojo Satoru. So, you've come to join in the fun too."
Gojo slid his hands lazily into his pockets and tilted his head. "Red Haired Emperor, I just came to enjoy the chaos and ruin a few plans—specifically, the World Government's." He gestured slightly toward Ace with his chin. "Here, I saved him. He's all yours."
Gojo then glanced back toward Marineford, where thick columns of smoke and destruction still stained the horizon. "There are still plenty of Whitebeard Pirates locked in combat with the Marines over there. If you want to help them, you'd better hurry."
The sea breeze swept across the deck, carrying the bitter scent of salt and gunpowder from the distant battlefield.
Suddenly, the sea churned violently.
The entire world seemed to tremble.
The ocean below surged in massive, uneven waves, causing even the colossal Red Hair pirate ship to tilt unnaturally. A deep, apocalyptic rumble echoed across the water, as if the very atmosphere had exploded just beyond the horizon.
Gojo clicked his tongue. "Damn. Looks like the old man is really going all out."
Instead of concern, a slow grin spread across his face. Sensing the overwhelming force behind the shockwave, his eyes narrowed with amusement. Looks like things are getting interesting.
It was obvious. Now that Ace was safe and a clear escape route had been established for his crew, Whitebeard had no reasons left to hold back. The Whitebeard Pirates could retreat safely. There were no more shackles bounding the old Yonko.
He could go completely wild.
A final, dying breath. His last and greatest performance as the World's Strongest Man.
The sea itself seemed to bear witness to his wrath.
Gojo took one last look toward Marineford and waved casually. "Well then, bye-bye."
The moment the words left his lips, he vanished.
In the next instant, he appeared directly inside his secluded cabin in Alabasta. Vivi was right there.
While she hadn't been watching the visual broadcast of Marineford, she had been listening intensely through a Den Den Mushi that Igaram had set up, allowing her to hear the war play out in real time. From the moment Gojo had left, Vivi had been unusually quiet, her hands clasped tightly together in a continuous prayer.
Even knowing how absurdly strong Gojo was, the war she had been listening to was no ordinary clash. Names like the Admirals, Whitebeard, and thousands of notorious pirates and Marines filled the reports. Every explosion and frantic update only made the silence inside the cabin feel heavier.
But when she had finally heard Gojo's voice filter through the transponder snail, she knew he had arrived. After that, she simply waited. Quietly. Patiently. Praying he would return unharmed.
Then, out of nowhere—Gojo appeared.
Vivi's eyes snapped to him. She scanned him instinctively from head to toe, searching for wounds, blood, or any sign of a struggle.
There was nothing. Gojo stood there exactly as he always did: completely relaxed and entirely uninjured.
Seeing this, the agonizing tension that had gripped her finally evaporated. Her shoulders dropped, and she let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding, flooded with immense relief.
The next day, the newspapers printed what the world already knew from the live broadcast, but the headlines still shook the seas.
The Marines' failure to execute Ace. The cataclysmic destruction unleashed by Whitebeard.
Reports described Marineford as an island that had barely survived. Whitebeard had practically leveled the place. Though the landmass technically remained standing, there wasn't a single intact structure left. Buildings had collapsed into dust, defensive walls were shattered, and the grand fortress was reduced to absolute ruin.
Everything was completely obliterated.
To add to the world's shock, Blackbeard had successfully stolen Whitebeard's Devil Fruit powers from his corpse. That news sent a collective shiver down the spine of the Grand Line.
As for Whitebeard... after unleashing his final, catastrophic strike, he died standing.
He didn't die slowly by being worn down, nor did he fall to the swords and cannons of nameless foot soldiers. Instead, he perished immediately after delivering the most powerful attack his old body could possibly muster. Even at the bitter end, he went out exactly how the World's Strongest Man should. Only after giving every single drop of essence he had left did the legend finally fall.
Meanwhile, Gojo's words echoed across the globe.
His warning proved incredibly effective because his message had been terrifyingly clear: If the World Government ever hunts the people close to me, I will keep assassinating Celestial Dragons.
It was no empty threat. Gojo had already slaughtered a World Noble, proving he couldn't care less about their supposedly divine status. To ordinary people, the Celestial Dragons were untouchable gods ruling from above. To Gojo, they were just targets.
As this realization set in, panic began to fester in places where fear had never existed before. The Celestial Dragons grew increasingly restless and paranoid.
Gojo hadn't been caught. He hadn't been killed. He had strolled into Marineford—the ultimate military stronghold of the World Government—created absolute chaos, rescued the execution target, openly threatened the world's rulers, and walked away without a scratch.
That fact alone shattered the perceived absolute authority and security of the World Government. Driven by the colossal failure, Fleet Admiral Sengoku accelerated his plans and resigned much sooner than expected.
The war was over, but the aftershocks were just beginning.
As for the Whitebeard Pirates, they successfully retreated from Marineford. Defying the world's expectations, most of the division commanders survived and regrouped. In the end, they gathered under the banner of Ace.
This had been Whitebeard's dream from the very beginning: to raise Ace as the next Pirate King.
The crew wholeheartedly accepted Ace as their new captain, and Ace accepted the responsibility. However, he refused to erase Whitebeard's shadow or build a new empire under his own name. He chose to preserve the legacy.
He kept the name of the Whitebeard Pirates intact. The flag remained the same. The identity stayed whole. Whitebeard's era had ended, but his family endured.
Furthermore, Ace began training obsessively. Day after day, battle after battle, he pushed his body to mad extremes. He wanted to justify his position as the successor to Edward Newgate. He wanted to prove to the world that even though Whitebeard was gone, his legacy was very much alive.
Naturally, with Whitebeard's passing, the islands under his protection entered a highly perilous era. Many pirate crews who had lived in terror of the old man finally moved out of the shadows. Without Whitebeard holding the line, they viewed those territories as defenseless prey.
Invasions, looting, and turf wars erupted. For a brief period, chaos reigned.
But Ace moved like lightning. There were no grand declarations or sweeping speeches—only brutal action. One by one, the pirate groups bold enough to invade Whitebeard's territories were systematically crushed. Ships were burned to ashes; crews were annihilated.
Those who mistook Whitebeard's death for the crew's weakness learned a fatal lesson. Ace personally destroyed dozens of invading fleets. Once enough bloody examples were made, the message crystallized across the New World: Whitebeard might be gone, but his pirates were still a force of nature.
Before long, no one dared challenge them again.
Gojo's speech at Marineford also had a massive, resounding effect on the global landscape—especially for the Revolutionary Army.
Witnessing Gojo's sheer audacity and his total lack of fear toward the World Nobles caused a massive shift in public consciousness. For generations, common folk had viewed corrupt nobles and tyrannical kings as an unavoidable misery. They endured the suffering because they believed resistance was impossible.
But Gojo had broken that illusion. He had openly defied the global superpower, executed a Celestial Dragon, and humiliated the Marines on their own turf.
To the oppressed, that image became an unforgettable beacon. Rebellious thoughts began to take root. Questions that had been buried for centuries finally surfaced.
Why should we endure this corruption? Why are the nobles untouchable? Why do kings feast while we starve?
Across various kingdoms and islands, hidden dissatisfaction turned into loud defiance. Some regions saw massive protests; others erupted into outright rebellions.
Because of this paradigm shift, the Revolutionary Army found their job significantly easier. Territories where they had previously struggled to gain any traction suddenly welcomed them with open arms. People were finally ready to listen, ready to fight, and ready to believe that change was actually possible.
Without even intending to, Gojo had pushed the entire world into deep instability. Or perhaps, toward a long-overdue revolution.
Meanwhile, the catalyst of this global upheaval was completely isolated from the chaos, staying quietly inside his secluded cabin in Alabasta.
The outside world was exploding with the consequences of his actions, but inside the cabin, everything was perfectly still. Gojo sat quietly. He didn't celebrate, he didn't care to read the newspapers, and he had zero interest in his skyrocketing global fame.
His mind was already locked onto his next objective: training. A hellish kind of training.
He had already drawn up a brutal regimen based on his memories of Luffy—specifically, the time Luffy was captured by the Beast Pirates and forced into hard labor in Udon.
During that captivity, Luffy had been forced to wear handcuffs forged from Sea Prism Stone. Though the executioners hadn't intended it as a workout, it had ultimately served as an incredible catalyst for Luffy's growth. At first, the Seastone had entirely drained Luffy, making his movements sluggish and suppressing his raw strength. But gradually, his body adapted to the constant drain. Even under complete suppression, Luffy had kept pushing his physical limits.
Of course, Gojo knew those prison cuffs weren't perfectly pure Seastone, but their ability to restrict Devil Fruit powers was completely real.
Gojo tapped his fingers rhythmically against the arm of his chair, lost in thought.
If his abilities were restricted, he would have no choice but to rely entirely on pure physical prowess. No shortcuts. No Infinity. No relying on his broken Devil Fruit abilities. Just raw, unadulterated physical conditioning.
And perhaps... if he constantly subjected his body to that suppression and learned to fight through it, it would grant him an even finer, more precise control over his Devil Fruit once the restrictions were lifted. A sharper efficiency.
Gojo's lips curled into a slow smile. His training hadn't even started yet, but he already knew one thing for certain:
This was going to absolutely suck.
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