Chapter 70: The Wound That Shakes the World
The silence that gripped Marineford was more profound than any that had come before. Even the echoes of Akainu's Meteor Volcano seemed to fade into a distant rumble. All eyes, from the lowliest Marine recruit to the stone-faced Mihawk, were locked on the figure of Whitebeard as he crashed onto the frozen bay, skidding across the ice with a sound that tore at the soul.
He did not get up immediately.
A collective gasp, a shudder of disbelief, rippled through the world. The strongest man in the world… knocked down.
"DAD!!" Marco's scream was raw agony. He tried to streak toward his father, but Kizaru reformed in his path, a laser blast forcing the phoenix to divert.
On the Moby Dick, the commanders stared, horror-stricken. Jozu roared, trying to disengage from Aokiji, but a glacier erupted at his feet, trapping him momentarily.
The trembling voice from the Marine ranks spoke again, this time with more certainty. "I saw it… Squard! Captain Squard of the allied fleet! He… he stabbed Whitebeard!"
The name sent a new wave of shock. Squard. A captain of the Whitebeard Pirates' allied fleet. A sworn brother.
The camera feeds and Observation Haki of the powerful zoomed in. There, on the ice not far from where Whitebeard had been standing, was Squard. He held a bloody sword, his face a mask of utter torment, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at his own shaking hands. And in Whitebeard's side, just below his massive ribs, a deep, grievous wound wept crimson onto the white ice.
Betrayal. From within the family.
On the execution platform, Sengoku's face was grim, but there was no surprise in his eyes. Only the cold satisfaction of a plan executed. The "special information" Akainu had used. The leverage. It had worked.
Whitebeard pushed himself up onto one elbow. The movement was slow, heavy. He coughed, a wet, rattling sound, and more blood stained his beard. But his eyes, when they found Squard, held no accusation. Only a deep, sorrowful understanding.
"Squard… my son…" Whitebeard's voice was weaker, but it still carried. "You… were deceived."
Squard fell to his knees, sobbing. "They said… they said you made a deal with the Marines to save Ace in exchange for the lives of us, the allied captains! They showed me proof! I… I…"
"A lie," Whitebeard said simply, the words final. He grunted, placing a massive hand over the wound. The tremor that ran through him was visible. The sickness, held at bay by sheer will, now found an opening. The legendary vitality was bleeding out onto the ice, both physically and spiritually.
This was the moment. The moment the strategy had aimed for. Whitebeard was wounded, betrayed, and his myth of invincibility was cracked.
Admiral Akainu saw his opening. The path to the Emperor was now clear. "Now! All forces, converge on Whitebeard! He's vulnerable!" His magma-coated form began to stride forward with renewed, ruthless purpose.
But another figure moved faster.
Levi.
He had watched the betrayal unfold with detached analysis. The emotional shockwave from the Whitebeard Pirates was palpable—a tsunami of despair and fury. This was the crucible. This was when Whitebeard's legend would either shatter or be forged into something even more terrifying in its death throes. Levi couldn't let Akainu interrupt that process prematurely.
As Akainu took his second step, a wall of pure, black Reiatsu materialized in front of him, stretching from the ice to twenty meters in the air. It was not an attack, but a barrier, smooth and impervious as polished obsidian.
Akainu slammed into it. CLANG! The sound was like the ringing of a monstrous bell. Magma splashed against the spiritual wall, sizzling but not penetrating. Akainu stumbled back, his face a mask of fury. "BLACK CROW! What is the meaning of this?!"
All eyes swiveled to Levi. He stood between the advancing Akainu and the fallen Whitebeard, his back to the Admiral, facing the Emperor.
"The meaning," Levi said, his voice carrying a strange, resonant calm, "is that this is not your kill, Sakazuki."
The audacity of the statement left the battlefield speechless. He was countermanding a fellow Admiral's tactical decision in the heat of battle. He was claiming ownership of the target.
"You fool! This is war, not a duel! He needs to be eliminated!" Akainu roared, magma boiling around him.
"He will be," Levi replied, still not turning. "But not like this. Not from a stab in the back and a cheap shot while he's down." He finally looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Akainu's blazing ones. "The world is watching. They need to see the 'Strongest Man' broken by a superior force, not by treachery and gang tactics. Do you want his death to be a Marine victory, or a messy footnote?"
It was cold, brutal logic, wrapped in a veneer of twisted honor. But it resonated with the part of Sengoku that cared about narrative, about the symbol. And it ignited the pride in every pirate heart that heard it.
Whitebeard, still on one knee, let out a wet, hacking laugh. "Gurarara…! The arrogant brat… has a point." With a groan that shook his massive frame, he forced himself to his feet. One hand remained clamped over the wound in his side, but the other reached out. His naginata, Yoru, quivered on the ice, then shot through the air back into his grip. The shock halo around the blade flickered, then stabilized, burning with a desperate, final light.
He was standing. Bloodied, betrayed, dying. But standing. And the look he now fixed on Levi was one of pure, unadulterated battle lust. The father's sorrow was pushed down; the warrior's pride rose to the surface. "You want a clean fight, boy? You want to be the one to end me? Then come! Let's give them a show they'll never forget!"
The atmosphere crackled. This was no longer just a war. It was a destined clash, a passing of the torch orchestrated by the younger predator for maximum spectacle.
Levi smiled. It was a small, cold thing. "Finally. Now we begin."
He dismissed the Reiatsu wall separating him from Akainu. The magma Admiral seethed but, after a furious glance at Sengoku—who gave a slow, reluctant nod—held his position. The Fleet Admiral understood. Levi's way, while infuriatingly insubordinate, might indeed produce a more potent psychological victory.
Whitebeard raised his naginata, the shockwaves distorting the air around him. "One last bout… for the ages!"
Levi simply extended a hand, palm up. Black Reiatsu began to swirl above it, condensing not into a shield, but into a long, slender shape—a blade of pure spiritual energy, shimmering with dark light. He wasn't just going to defeat Whitebeard with pressure or tricks. He would do it with a weapon, in a way the swordsmen and brawlers of this world could understand.
The two figures, one a giant of the old era bleeding his life onto the ice, the other a slender enigma of the new one wielding a sword of darkness, faced each other.
And high above, unnoticed in the chaos, a shadow passed over the sun—a massive, serpentine form streaking through the sky toward Marineford. Kaido, the snitch dragon, was arriving, ready to drop his explosive news into the heart of the inferno.
(End of Chapter)
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