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BOOM
The ground of Marineford rumbled, sending invisible ripples spreading in all directions. In just the blink of an eye, the entire fortress base trembled.
Countless Marines looked up in shock, eyes wide with fear. "Is it an enemy attack? Did Whitebeard escape?!"
"The ground is shaking... That's definitely the power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit!" Panic and dread swept across Marineford. But then they noticed something strange.
The fractured land, after a violent tremor, began to move—then suddenly merged back together. Even the shattered terrain was reforming.
On the great bridge, a squad of Marines was marching forward when a formless force surged in.
With a sudden hum, the Marines were stunned to see the bridge beneath their feet begin to rise into the air.
"What in the world is going on?!" the leading officer shouted.
They rushed to the edges and looked down, only to witness the massive fissure caused by Whitebeard's punch rapidly closing.
With a thunderous crash, the land snapped together, sending dust into the air and fusing back as one.
"The foundation of Marineford is... being restored! This is unbelievable!"
"It's Admiral Arashi!!" Voices rang out from headquarters, finally easing the tension in the terrified Marines.
"It might seem outrageous, but with that man's power... it actually makes sense," Zoro muttered, watching the ground settle.
To shatter and then recombine land at that scale, this power rivaled that of Whitebeard's near world-ending force.
"Just how far can that man go?" The war from not long ago was still fresh in everyone's mind.
During the battle, Arashi mostly fought using hand-to-hand combat, enhanced by his Mythical Zoan abilities.
But subtle moments revealed he wielded more than just one power—lightning columns erupting from his body, and enormous beasts like the Kunpeng forming from the upheaving earth.
The tremors lasted nearly two hours. When it finally ended, Marineford looked no different than before.
Arashi exhaled slowly, lifted off the ground, and turned into a flash of lightning, vanishing back to his office.
"That should do it," he said with a smile to Sengoku, who stood in a daze.
"The remaining damaged areas just need some time to rebuild and repair," Sengoku replied with awe.
Standing at the window, Sengoku looked out over the fully restored Marineford. His heart was filled with both joy and admiration.
The power of Devil Fruits wasn't just for war—some abilities held immeasurable value for infrastructure and civilian life.
The sky was a vivid blue, the sea breeze gentle and warm. After a long while, Sengoku finally turned, wearing a rare satisfied smile.
He sat down, not in his usual rigid posture, but comfortably, loosening his collar.
His once neat uniform became rumpled, and without his cap, his white hair was fully visible—black strands were now nearly extinct.
The sternness in his face had faded, replaced by a sense of release, as if he had finally laid down an enormous burden.
"Arashi," he said softly, "it's time we talked... about my retirement." His voice was light, with a trace of laughter. He looked at Arashi with calm eyes.
In the office, Aokiji and Kizaru were taken aback, their expressions turning serious. Arashi paused briefly, then gave a soft nod.
By age, Sengoku was now seventy-seven. The usual retirement age was between sixty and sixty-five. Garp was seventy-six. Whitebeard had been seventy-two.
In a way, the war at the summit had seen Arashi pummeling old men several generations his senior.
"It really is time for you to rest," Arashi said with a smile.
"You brat—no holding back, huh?" Sengoku chuckled wryly.
"This is something I won't shy away from," Arashi replied, his eyes gleaming. Seizing full control of the Marines had been a plan set in motion twenty years ago.
After years of effort, it was finally within reach. "Hahaha! Then let's discuss this thoroughly."
Sengoku laughed, but suddenly turned to Kizaru. "Where is Sakazuki now?"
Kizaru blinked, glanced at Arashi with a faint smile. "Right now? Probably being operated on in the Marine hospital."
Arashi's expression didn't change. Sengoku nodded. "Given the severity of his injuries, he should be out for a while."
His tone shifted, eyes growing cold. "As for his reckless exposure of our war plans, leaking top-secret intel and harming the Marine's reputation..."
"When he recovers, a military tribunal will be held." Neither Aokiji nor Kizaru objected. Their expressions remained neutral.
"I suggest he be transferred to Impel Down," Arashi added calmly.
"The Marines have their laws. Justice will be served," Sengoku said sternly, glaring at him.
He had come to understand Arashi—if given the chance for payback, this man would never let it go.
If Arashi took over, Sakazuki's days in the Marines were bound to be grim. Arashi shrugged.
They moved on to the actual retirement discussion. Sengoku's exit was straightforward. The real matter was who would succeed him as Fleet Admiral.
Since Aokiji and Kizaru made clear they weren't interested, Arashi was the only real candidate. No one was surprised, and so the meeting turned to the specifics of the transition.
.....
While that meeting unfolded in Marineford's Fleet Admiral's office, far away at sea—
"Quick, quick! More gauze! We still need more blood, fast!!"
"Adrenaline! Get the adrenaline!!" Tense, frantic shouts echoed through the ship's cabin.
Supplies were passed hand to hand as an atmosphere of anxiety engulfed the Red Force.
Outside, thick smoke lingered, and grim silhouettes crowded the deck. The pressure on the ship was suffocating.
"How is he?" Ace asked gravely as the ship's doctor emerged.
"Still in critical condition," he replied.
"We're doing everything we can to snatch Shanks' life back from the gates of hell."
Ace's heart clenched. He tightened his fists. That brutal battle had left a Yonko on the brink of death, and their father—Whitebeard—had been captured.
Even the combined might of two Emperors wasn't enough. That man's power... was beyond comprehension.
"Let's be patient. Injuries like that take time. I believe he'll pull through," Marco said as he walked over and placed a hand on Ace's shoulder.
"Yeah..." Ace nodded, though his heart remained heavy. The blow to the Whitebeard Pirates had been devastating.
Many division commanders were captured, and their allied crews had suffered major losses.
"Don't blame yourself, Ace," Marco said again. "This war wasn't about you. It was always aimed at Pops."
Ace said nothing, but his fists clenched tighter. "Besides," Marco continued, "during the battle, Sakazuki made everything about your past clear."
"No one's going to believe Sengoku's words. You did what you did for us. We're family, remember?"
Behind Marco stood the rest of the commanders. Ace's body trembled. He looked up at them. "No one's buying the Marine's lies!"
"Pops believed in you—and so do we! C'mon, Ace, you've known us way longer than you ever knew the Marines. Who do you think we trust more?"
"You're the captain Pops chose. Pull yourself together!"
"Yeah! The Whitebeard Pirates are counting on you!"
Vista, Blamenco, Rakuyo, Blenheim, and the others all smiled with trust and encouragement in their eyes.
Ace's heart trembled. He took a deep breath and gave a firm nod. "Thank you, everyone."
Marco patted his shoulder again. "The harder the time, the stronger we must be."
Then, his tone became oddly solemn. "The Whitebeard Pirates... must not fall."
Ace's eyes sharpened. He exhaled. "I know what I have to do. From this moment, I'm the new captain of the Whitebeard Pirates."
"I'll lead everyone home... and one day, we'll rise again to avenge this battle!" Marco declared.
"I swear I'll rescue Pops!!" Ace shouted.
Before they left, they'd only seen Whitebeard captured, not killed. So they chose to believe in the best outcome: that he was still alive.
But deep down, many knew the truth—his condition wasn't good. "Now, we wait for Shanks to wake up," Ace said with a firm gaze, staring toward the cabin.
Both crews had just been through a war. Many were resting. But Shanks remained unconscious, and the Whitebeard Pirates, as allies, had to stay alert.
So, covered in bandages and dust, their division commanders squeezed onto the ship.
Beckman and Yasopp were inside; the others waited outside. Ace stood silently, fists clenched tight.
The weight on his shoulders was enormous. Becoming captain of the Whitebeard Pirates had come too suddenly.
It should've been Marco's role—he was the ideal choice. But it had been their father's final wish.
"How do I keep from letting everyone down? How can I become stronger?"
Ace fell into deep confusion. What burdened him now more than anything... was his lack of strength.
All his fears stemmed from that weakness. In this world, the weak don't even get to choose how they live, and after what he just experienced, Ace's hunger for power had never been greater.
To truly lead the Whitebeard Pirates, the support of a dozen commanders wasn't enough. What he needed... was the strength of a Yonko.
Only by becoming a world-class powerhouse could he protect them and rise again.
But how could one become Emperor-level?
Ace gritted his teeth. He'd never desired strength more than now.
"If I had power like that man…" Ace clenched his fists as fierce flames of determination burned within him.
In that earth-shaking war, that man had faced two of the Sea Emperors alone and completely dominated them.
Even after exhausting all his strength and sustaining grievous injuries, he still managed to outplay a powerful Marine Admiral with a sliver of life left in him.
Ace couldn't even fathom such strength. A moment later, he let out a sigh.
Deep down, he knew—if he had stayed in the Marines, that man would've personally trained him. That would've been his chance to grow stronger.
But now, that opportunity was clearly gone. A heavy silence hung over the deck of the Red Force.
Everyone was quietly waiting. In the blink of an eye, it had already been seven days since the war at Marineford.
On this day, Shanks finally opened his eyes.
Moments later, a thunderous cheer of joy erupted across the Red Force. Beckman came out beaming, followed by Yasopp and the other core members.
When Ace looked at them, he could clearly see the fatigue etched into their faces, but the joy and relief were even more obvious.
"Thanks for waiting, everyone," Beckman said with a smile. "Now that Shanks is awake, we can all breathe easier."
Marco glanced at Ace, motioning for him to speak. Ace hesitated for a second, then said solemnly, "This really is something worth celebrating."
Beckman chuckled, a knowing tone in his voice. "The Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates can't be looking so down, can he?"
"Heads up, kid. Don't let down the hopes everyone's placed on you."
Hearing that, Ace trembled slightly, then nodded firmly. "Of course I won't."
"Party time! Let's have a feast!" Lucky Roux suddenly bellowed with laughter. "The Captain's awake—that's something worth celebrating!"
Yasopp joined in, "If he smells the wine, he'll definitely drag himself out of bed, won't he? Hahaha!"
"Bring out the good stuff we've been saving—that fine wine from Shanks' homeland!"
"Whitebeard Pirates, you all join too," Beckman said. "You guys need to blow off some steam."
Marco stayed silent, but Ace gave a nod. "Then we'll gladly accept the invitation!"
The party began without warning. The previously stifling atmosphere was instantly shattered by roaring laughter.
It had to be said—if any crew could lift spirits, it was the Red-Hair Pirates. Even Ace and Marco couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Forget your worries! We pirates don't live just to frown all day! We live to enjoy life—not just to survive!"
"Cheers!!"
Laughter echoed across the deck as everyone finally relaxed. Ace raised his cup, casting aside the pressure that weighed on his heart, and smiled freely.
"Yeah, kid—smile! Who hasn't faced rock bottom in life? Who hasn't endured hardship?"
"Even the strongest standing at the top have fallen into the depths at times. We should face everything with optimism!"
"Who knows what the future holds?" Yasopp laughed heartily.
"You're right!" Ace shouted back. "But the Whitebeard Pirates will never fall! We'll only grow stronger!"
"Now that's the spirit!" At that moment, a figure covered in bandages emerged from the cabin, supported by others.
"Hahahahaha!"
"Shanks! I knew you wouldn't be able to resist!" Beckman turned with a grin.
"How could I rest with you lot being so loud?" Shanks said with a smile. He shrugged, then smirked again. "And that familiar scent of wine… it's just too tempting!"
With a flash, he was suddenly seated next to Ace, grabbed a wine bowl from the deck, and gulped it down in one go.
"Delicious!"
He slammed the bowl down on the deck and shouted.
"Shanks!!! You haven't fully recovered! You can't drink yet!" The ship's doctor yelled in frustration from behind.
"I'm fine! I survived, didn't I?" Shanks laughed heartily. Sitting next to a Sea Emperor, Ace felt a bit awkward and tense.
But Shanks turned to him with a warm laugh. "Hahaha! Ace, I didn't expect you to be the Captain's son."
Back before the Marines announced it, no one imagined that the Pirate King had left behind a bloodline. To the world, that bloodline carried deep significance.
But for Shanks, it also bore an even deeper sense of personal emotion and connection.
"Captain?" Ace was taken aback, but quickly understood. "You mean that man?" Shanks nodded, a touch of nostalgia in his expression.
"Back then, Marine legend Arashi was just an unknown rookie and I… I was just an apprentice on the Captain's ship."
"Even Marshall D. Teach was still young. Heh…Those were truly memorable times." Shanks chuckled.
"That must've been one hell of an era," Ace said.
"It was. That era was incredible," Shanks replied, smiling. "Even though we missed out on so much due to our youth and inexperience… it's still something to cherish."
Then his tone shifted suddenly. "Don't lose heart, young man. Right now, you're just like I was back then."
"As the Pirate King's son and the man Whitebeard placed his hopes in… your future is destined to be extraordinary."
"Live on. Grow stronger. And when you finally reach the summit—what you'll see will be a whole new world."
The words hit Ace like a lightning strike. His whole body trembled, and he gave a firm, heavy nod. "I will! I'll give it everything I've got!!"
Shanks gave a small smile. After downing another bowl of wine, he left the deck to rest.
His injuries were still severe, and even this brief moment in the sea breeze left him feeling drained and uneasy.
The party continued late into the night. Eventually, everyone fell asleep one after another.
By the next morning, the two pirate crews said their goodbyes. Ace and the others returned to the Moby Dick.
By then, the other allied crews and forces that had come to help had already departed.
As Ace walked slowly across the deck, his heart suddenly clenched when he saw a familiar chair in the distance. His expression grew complex.
Marco and the others were also silent. Suddenly, everyone whipped their heads around—when they saw who it was, their faces instantly changed.
Marco's gaze turned deadly as he stared at the visitor. "The Warlord… Doflamingo!! You've got some nerve showing your face here!"
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