Enel, once a feared name across the seas of the Land of Mist, bent the knee before Whitebeard and called him father.
The legendary pirate Ahri knelt as well, followed by the blind swordsman, Zatoichi.
Those three acts of submission sent shockwaves across the entire ninja world and pirate realm.
Overnight, the name "Whitebeard" echoed through every corner of the ocean.
As Mufasa had predicted, everyone wanted to be his son.
Even fighters like Tanjiro came running, eager to join the Whitebeard Pirates.
At first, Mufasa thought the group could be structured like the Seven Warlords of the Sea (Shichibukai).
But the influx of new recruits forced them to expand. After carefully picking and choosing the most powerful warriors, this was the new structure of the Whitebeard Pirates:
Marshal: Whitebeard (Mufasa)
Three Generals: Zatoichi, Enel, and the Light-Release Ninja, Saru
Shichibukai: Hoshigaki Jinbei, Ahri, Tanjiro, Ranmaru, Mangetsu Kenshin, Mingo, and Hachi
Support Staff: Hundreds of mid-to-low-level officers under more than 30 affiliated pirate groups
Together, they became the strongest pirate faction in the Land of Mist.
At the new headquarters in Boundary Town, Mufasa called for a strategy meeting.
The room was packed: the generals, the Warlords, and top commanders.
Mufasa sat tall on the Marshal's throne, his crescent-blade sword leaning beside him.
"My sons," he called.
Everyone stood in unison. "Hello, Father!"
He lifted a hand, signaling silence.
"Now that our strength surpasses the Mist Village Navy, it's time to act. We're taking the fight to them. We'll destroy their system and create our own. We'll turn the ninja oceans into our playground. Wherever we want to go—we go. Whatever we want—we take!"
A wave of cheers roared through the chamber.
"Whitebeard is mighty!"
"Father is mighty!"
A few cautious voices piped up.
"But Father, the Mist Village and the Daimyo's Navy won't go down easily."
Mufasa raised his hand again. "True. They're our biggest obstacles. And that's why we'll hit hard, right out of the gate."
He stood and pointed to the map spread across the table.
"We're going to kidnap the Daimyo of the Land of Mist."
Gasps filled the room.
"After we get him," Mufasa continued, "we'll use his life as leverage. We'll bait both the Daimyo's Navy and the Mist Ninja Navy into a fight—on our terms. We'll draw them out... and wipe them out."
"When they're gone, the seas will be ours. Every island will welcome us with open arms!"
Clapping erupted again.
Zatoichi leaned forward. "Where do you plan to fight them, Father? Boundary Town?"
Mufasa shook his head. "No. Too risky. The currents are chaotic. They won't bring their fleet there."
He picked up his nagatana and dragged its tip across the map.
Clang.
The blade stopped.
"Here. Top Island."
The commanders leaned in. Top Island was surrounded by calm waters and stable weather.
A perfect spot for naval combat. The island had high terrain, useful for building fortifications.
"I've already sent engineers to start building defenses—walls, forts, docks," Mufasa said. "When the time comes, you'll all be in position around the island. When the navy charges, we close in and crush them."
Zatoichi tilted his head. "And if the navy doesn't show?"
Mufasa grinned. "They will. I'll stake the Daimyo's life on it. I've built an execution platform at the island's center. We'll announce the execution date. If they don't come... the Daimyo's head rolls."
In the background, the Daimyo of the Land of Mist was living peacefully, completely unaware of the storm about to pull him under.
The commanders all nodded.
"It's a good plan."
Mufasa looked to his generals and Warlords.
"You'll stand with me at Top Island. Everyone else—get familiar with the nearby waters and train your fleets."
"Yes, Father."
He lifted his blade to the sky.
"This is it! We're taking the Land of Mist and building a new world. This is our summit war! Risk everything!"
"Follow!"
"Follow!"
And with that, the battle that would come to be known as the Summit War was set into motion.
That same night, the Daimyo Shimakage of the Land of Mist was lying in comfort in the oiran's quarters, completely unaware.
His samurai guarded the door, but the Mist Anbu had already been eliminated by Sand Village operatives.
The Daimyo was smuggled out of the capital under cover of night and delivered to a waiting pirate ship.
When he awoke the next morning, he found himself at sea.
Panic filled his voice.
"Where are you taking me?!"
A burly pirate leaned close and grinned.
"Top Island. Our father—Whitebeard—wants a word with you."
Whitebeard?!
The Daimyo, Shimakage, squinted as he heard the name. It sounded familiar. He wracked his brain until it finally clicked.
"Ah, the pirate the admiral mentioned recently..."
"A rising group calling themselves the Whitebeard Pirates have been active in our waters. They're growing fast. We should keep an eye on them."
Back then, Shimakage hadn't taken it seriously. Pirates were like weeds in the Land of Water—countless and constantly changing.
"More debt? Whatever. More lice? Who cares."
The Land of Water had always held a hands-off approach to pirates: as long as they didn't stir too much trouble, they were ignored.
So, when Shimakage first saw the report, he scoffed.
"Whitebeard? What kind of dumb name is that?"
It lacked the old-school flair of the Hidden Mist. Names like Demon of the Mist or Bloody Blade—those were proper.
But this... Whitebeard? Gunbeard? Ghostbeard? It sounded like something out of a bad novel.
Still, the name stuck in his head, probably because it was so ridiculous.
Then, days later, when he heard it again in a much less casual setting, Shimakage froze.
"Wait... I didn't do anything to that guy. Why is he after me?!"
The pirate escort looked at him like he'd asked how to spell "ninja."
Shimakage sat in stunned silence.
'What the hell is going on?'
Finally, their ship arrived at Top Island.
Shimakage stepped off the boat and looked around.
He saw the pirate stronghold built of concrete and steel, massive ships docked in port, towering walls and armed fortresses.
His jaw dropped.
"Since when did pirates upgrade like this?!"
And when he saw pirates driving bulldozers, cranes, and forklifts, he truly began to doubt reality.
"Their base looks more high-tech than our own naval fortress..."
He thought of the wooden fences back home and felt a wave of shame.
"Move it. Don't keep our father waiting," one pirate barked.
He was pushed inside the Pirate HQ, and there—at the center of the main hall—stood Whitebeard.
Tall as a giant, broad as a house, with his crescent-shaped blade resting at his side.
Shimakage's first thought was what everyone else thinks:
"Why is he called Whitebeard when he just has white hair?"
Mufasa—looked down at him and grinned.
"Daimyo Shimakage! You're finally here."
His voice boomed through the chamber, shaking the floor.
Shimakage stiffened.
The pressure from this man was unreal. This wasn't some wannabe rogue. This guy was the real deal—someone who'd seen countless battles.
Terrified, Shimakage blurted, "Father..."
Mufasa raised an eyebrow.
"The head of the Land of Water Navy calling me father? What does that make me—your grandfather?"
He laughed, but there was no warmth in it.
Then he growled, "Shimakage, don't flatter yourself. You're not worthy to be my son."
Shimakage flinched and tried to explain.
"Look... Whitebeard I've never even wronged you! Why kidnap me?!"
Mufasa's smile faded.
"No grudge? You and the Hidden Mist persecuted my sons. My warriors. My family."
He pointed behind him where several warriors stood: Enel crackling with lightning, Ahri surrounded by glowing orbs, and Hoshigaki Jinbei bearing his massive sword.
"You hunted them like dogs. Their pain is my pain. So yeah, you owe me."
Shimakage panicked.
"Wait! That wasn't me! That was under Yagura's regime! I had nothing to do with the Bloody Mist days!"
Mufasa shrugged.
"Maybe. Doesn't matter. What matters is what I believe. Come."
He dragged Shimakage to a wide balcony.
There, a ninja named Usobuku stood silently, one eye closed as seabirds circled above. He was known for commanding a vast flock of reconnaissance birds, the greatest in the Land of Water.
Ahead stood four large throne-like chairs.
In front of them: an execution platform, glinting in the sun.
A strange device stood atop it—a sleek guillotine.
Mufasa motioned to it.
"This here is a guillotine. Clean, fast, and legendary."
Shimakage went pale.
His knees buckled.
"W-Wait! I thought we were talking! Why are you dragging me to an execution!?"
Mufasa tilted his head.
"You don't like the guillotine?"
Shimakage shook his head furiously.
"Of course not! Who likes getting beheaded?!"
Mufasa nodded thoughtfully.
"Fair point. If we take your head too quick, you won't get to savor the moment. That'd be a shame."
Shimakage gawked.
'What the hell are you saying?!'
Mufasa continued, cheerful.
"Maybe we'll tie you up and let two of my guys stab you slowly with spears. Real old-school."
Shimakage nearly fainted.
Then Mufasa handed him a script.
"Read this. Clearly. No stuttering."
Shimakage looked down, trembling.
"Want my treasure? You can have it! Search for it! I left everything I own... on the Grand Line!"
He blinked.
"Wait... isn't this your line?"
Mufasa scratched his head, grinning sheepishly.
"Oops. Yeah. That one's mine. Wrong script."