On the front-line island of G-10 Marine Base, atop the sheer cliff, two thick iron chains dangled down from the summit, each end locked firmly around the wrists of the Decalban brothers.
The pirate duo, bounties totaling 600 million berries, hung there battered and bloodied. The salt-laden sea wind whipped at their bodies, while the merciless sun scorched them relentlessly. Their wounds had long since scabbed over, only to crack and bleed again, leaving them a pitiful, ragged mess.
Yet they were not ordinary men. Surviving in the New World had forged their bodies beyond the limits of normal humans. A common person subjected to such torment would have collapsed long ago. Even so, their vitality flickered like candles in the wind, barely holding on.
Still, their near-death despair did not humble them. If anything, it stoked the last embers of their feral pride. From their dangling perch, they screamed curses and taunts at Gern and the others below.
"Cough… filthy Marines…! You'll pay your dues to grandpa!""Whitebeard… will save us…! When he comes… you're all dead!""Tenku! You cowardly turtle! Using such despicable tricks, huh?!"
The Decalban brothers' insults continued, fractured yet relentless, like the constant buzz of aggravating flies.
"Annoying…" Enel, perched cross-legged in the treetops above the cliff, was enjoying his "divine afternoon tea" (an apple) while waiting for Whitebeard. He reached up to scratch his ear in irritation, his eyes narrowing toward the cliff below.
"Two dying pests, whining and squealing… and they dare disturb the peace of a god?" he muttered with clear disgust.
Without even rising, Enel snapped his fingers lazily.
"Shh! Shh!"
Two long, precise streaks of blue lightning shot forth like serpents, striking the Decalban brothers with deadly accuracy.
"Ughhhh!!" Their curses immediately turned into piercing screams as their bodies convulsed violently. Hair stood on end, wisps of smoke curling from their skin. The intense shock of Enel's lightning overwhelmed the already-debilitated nerves, leaving agony far surpassing the pain of their wounds.
Though Enel had deliberately restrained the strike to be non-lethal, the sensation was torture—hundreds of times sharper than the injuries they already bore.
When the sparks faded, the brothers hung limply on the chains, bones seemingly drained of life. Only labored breaths and groans remained; not a word of defiance escaped their lips.
"Hmph. That's better. Peace restored," Enel murmured, satisfied, and resumed his snack.
Suddenly, a Marine atop the lookout tower bellowed, voice hoarse:
"Large fleet sighted in the forward waters! It's… it's the Whitebeard Pirates! The Moby Dick!!!"
The alarm hit like a boulder thrown into a still lake. Instantly, G-10 Base surged into full combat readiness. Bells rang out, soldiers sprinted to stations, and the cannons were swiftly adjusted.
Hearing the alarm, the Decalban brothers on the cliff seemed to experience a last flash of life. With what little strength they had left, they screamed toward the horizon:
"Father! It's Father! Hahaha! You're finished, Marines! Finished!"
Amid their maniacal laughter, a massive silhouette broke the horizon: the Moby Dick, cutting through the waves like a colossal leviathan, radiating an overwhelming aura of pressure.
Behind it, three smaller but formidable ships followed—the main fleet of the Whitebeard Pirates—approaching the front island of G-10 Base with a near-crushing inevitability.
At the bow, captains Marco, Jozu, and Vista were the first to spot the hanging brothers, pitifully displayed as "trophies" and warnings. Though they despised the Decalban brothers' reckless actions, seeing their nominal comrades treated with such public humiliation ignited uncontrollable fury within each captain.
"Bastards…" Jozu, the Diamond Captain of the Fifth Division, gripped his sword, eyes sharp."This is outrageous!" Bista, the Flower Sword Captain, scowled.Even the usually calm Marco furrowed his brow at the sight.
And Whitebeard himself, seated atop the custom bow chair, observed everything with unflinching clarity. Frost seemed to settle across his stern visage. With a resonant thunk, he slammed his massive cane—Bushinkiri—into the deck, the sound reverberating like a hammer against every heart aboard the ship.
Slowly, deliberately, he rose and walked to the prow. Inhaling deeply, his chest expanded like a bellows. Then he let out a roar that tore through the clouds and sea alike:
"Gern—!!!""I… have come for my wayward child!!!""Stop your dirty tricks at once!!!"
His voice struck like a tsunami, carrying absolute authority and consuming wrath—an unmistakable declaration that the "Strongest Man in the World" had arrived.
On the island platform, Gern Reginald Sigmar had appeared. Standing atop the highest point, his "Justice" coat billowing in the wind, he faced Whitebeard's terrifying roar with an unshaken, calm expression. The air seemed to bend around him, but his eyes simply fixed on the massive pirate ship on the horizon, as though he had been waiting all along.
At almost the same instant, Whitebeard's empty left hand clenched into a fist. His arm's massive muscles coiled, and an eerie milky-white aura shimmered around his fist. The air itself began to hum with an ominous, nerve-wracking resonance.
Without hesitation, he swung, aiming a devastating blow at the space ahead.
"CRRRRRAAAACK—!!!"
The air groaned and fractured like breaking glass. The destructive power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit erupted, visibly warping and tearing the surrounding space. An invisible shockwave, capable of ripping oceans and shattering islands, surged forward with apocalyptic force.
Yet, atop the highest platform of the base, Gern did not flinch.
He raised his right hand slowly, spreading his fingers, pressing gently toward the void ahead.
"Hummmm…"
A colossal, pale, and razor-sharp force surged from Gern's palm, stemming from the very essence of vibration. Fine cracks appeared in the air, high-pitched and buzzing, as though he were forcibly restructuring and controlling the space itself.
This was not brute force. It was precise, tyrannical… a masterful interference and cancellation.
Gern's Tremor Fruit ability intercepted Whitebeard's vibration wave with absolute precision, neutralizing it like a finely tuned tuning fork stopping another in resonance.
The next instant, the cataclysmic quake that could have flattened the world dissipated hundreds of meters above the ocean near the cliff. It was as if an invisible hand had seized it by the throat, reducing its power to a fraction of its intended force.
"Boom!" A muted explosion echoed through the sky. The waves roiled, yet the earth-shattering, island-cracking devastation that should have accompanied the strike had almost entirely vanished. Only the wind whipped up by the residual blast swept across the spectators, evidence that the attack had indeed existed.
"Gurararara!!" Whitebeard squinted, a slight grin crossing his face. "You've grown stronger, little Marine."
On the Moby Dick, every captain's pupils dilated. They knew Gern's Tremor ability was superior to Whitebeard's own, but witnessing it firsthand still stunned them into disbelief.
Gern slowly lowered his hand. The wind teased his hair, yet his gaze remained calm on Whitebeard. He seated himself cross-legged, as though to silently convey:
Here, in this sea guarded by the Admiral "White Horn"—Gern of Tremor—the "Strongest in the World" must still obey my rules.
..
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