The smile on Blackbeard's face froze completely.
He stared at Gern Reginald Sigmar without blinking, teeth clenched tight. By all logic, as captain, he should have been the first to move.
But the truth was—
Even gravely wounded, even with his breathing unsteady, the absolute, sovereign intimidation that belonged to "Heavenly Tremor" still towered above all others.
It was not something this hastily assembled crew of scheming opportunists—these so-called "partners," each with their own hidden agendas—could possibly shake.
Unconsciously, Blackbeard's gaze drifted to the corpse nearby—the body that still radiated an oppressive presence even in death.
The title of "World's Strongest"… perhaps it never truly left.
Originally, he had coveted Gern's Tremor-Tremor Fruit—the Heavenly Tremor power that had just shaken heaven and earth—as well as reclaiming the black blade Bahuang.
After all, he had been watching from the shadows the entire time. He had witnessed firsthand just how monstrous that fruit's power truly was.
If he could exploit Gern's weakness now and seize it in one stroke, his ambition would gain unprecedented support.
In his heart, the perfect plan had always been simple: take the Heavenly Tremor Fruit, take the Gura Gura no Mi, take the black blade Bahuang—claim all three.
At the same time, kill Gern, send the Marines in the New World into collapse—
—and then conveniently inherit all the territories of both Whitebeard and Gern.
The plan was flawless.
Reality, however, struck him hard.
The Gern before him—even as a spent arrow at the end of its flight—still carried a price Blackbeard could not afford to pay.
Put bluntly, if Gern decided to kill him right now, cutting through thousands to take his head would only be a matter of time.
In that fleeting instant of calculation, Blackbeard's innate caution and treachery made the choice that best served his immediate interests.
Abandon Gern. Execute the original plan.
Whitebeard's corpse could not be left unattended for long.
Blackbeard knew fragments of the secret behind Devil Fruit power transfer—but he was not one hundred percent certain.
The longer this dragged on, the more variables would emerge. He did not dare gamble on losing the chance to obtain the power of the Gura Gura no Mi.
Moreover, the Level 6 monsters he had recruited from Impel Down had followed him largely because he promised them that world-shaking power.
They, too, were watching. Waiting.
If he faltered here—if he chose the wrong target—this fragile alliance might shatter instantly.
In that brief moment, a trace of ruthless resolve flashed through Blackbeard's eyes.
He stopped looking at Gern and instead cast an extremely subtle glance toward two of his crew.
Van Augur and the helmsman Lafitte understood immediately.
The instant they caught the signal, both men pulled out a massive black curtain they had prepared in advance.
"Swish!"
A dark blur swept across the battlefield.
The heavy black cloth fell precisely over Whitebeard's towering corpse—enveloping Blackbeard himself as he stood before it.
In an instant, the enormous shroud cut off all sight, concealing the taboo scene about to unfold within—the desecration of the dead, the theft of power.
Under Gern's overwhelming intimidation, Blackbeard had chosen the lesser prize. He turned his fangs away from the living predator before him—
—and sank them instead into his deceased "father."
Gern stood with Bahuang in hand, watching as the black curtain swallowed Whitebeard's body and Blackbeard alike.
He did not move.
Not because he lacked strength. Not because he feared them.
But because it was meaningless.
His condition was poor. Forcing his way into the fray now would only provoke the Blackbeard Pirates—who were practically salivating for this confrontation—to block him at all costs.
A chaotic melee would only worsen his injuries. The cost far outweighed the benefit.
Not to mention… Red-Hair was still lurking somewhere behind the scenes, watching. Who knew when that man would step forward to grandstand?
As for interfering from a distance with the Tremor-Tremor Fruit's power—
Blackbeard, wielder of the Dark-Dark Fruit, could absorb and nullify ability-based attacks. He would undoubtedly be prepared. It would not succeed.
More importantly, in Gern's eyes, Blackbeard's act of stealing a Devil Fruit from a corpse was nothing more than a hyena gnawing at the carcass of a fallen elephant.
Repulsive, yes.
But it did nothing to change the fact that the elephant had already fallen.
His battle with Whitebeard had been a clash of will and strength—a passing of something intangible.
Entangling himself with Blackbeard, however, was nothing more than a filthy struggle over profit.
Gern disdained it.
What he needed to think about now was what came next.
Especially the solemn warning Whitebeard had given him before his death.
"When you face 'it'… you must not lose."
"Because you are too strong, Gern. If you lose… then truly… truly… no one will be able to stop you."
Combined with the information Golden Lion had revealed earlier—and the meaningful tone Whitebeard used when speaking of Rocks' defeat—
The many speculations Gern had long harbored about the World Government… and about Imu…
Now seemed to link together, pointing toward something far more vast. Far more terrifying.
"I came into this era too early…" Gern murmured under his breath.
Only now did he realize—
Though he had advanced this far by relying on foresight, on knowledge of what was to come…
He still understood little of this world's deepest secrets. Of the true game that had been unfolding for eight hundred years.
"There are too many things I don't know…" he exhaled quietly.
The destruction of the Rocks Pirates had once shocked the world. It was hailed as a miracle created by the alliance of Garp and Roger.
But now, Gern was almost certain—
Rocks had not truly fallen to Garp and Roger.
He had most likely fallen to what Whitebeard had called… "the World."
A colossal existence beyond the conventional notion of the World Government.
Something older. More ineffable. Vast beyond comprehension.
Garp and Roger may simply have arrived at the right place at the right time—becoming the "heroes" displayed on the surface.
And that "World"… was almost certainly Imu.
Whitebeard had said Gern must not lose.
Had said that if he did, no one would be able to stop him.
In other words—
"When facing the 'World,' my defeat doesn't mean being struck down… It means losing myself, doesn't it…"
Gern was no fool.
In that instant, he understood.
Whitebeard, at the brink of death, had seen through Gern's deepest desire—the relentless pursuit of pure power.
He had foreseen that one day, Gern would collide head-on with that "World."
If Gern were to fail, it would not simply be the fall of a man.
It could mean the collapse of order itself—should he lose control, dragging the world into an irreversible abyss.
Power, at this moment, revealed itself as a double-edged sword.
Gern sought to use it to ascend to the summit.
Whitebeard had warned him—
Beyond that summit lay a final battlefield where there could be no error.
"Haah…"
Gern slowly exhaled, tightening his grip on Bahuang.
He looked toward the black curtain that concealed the act of desecration within. His gaze turned cold once more.
The remnants of the old era had been swept away.
The hyenas' farce required no further attention.
From here on—
His eyes would turn toward the deepest fog looming above the world itself.
"The World… huh."