The Whitebeard Pirates were left utterly stunned.
They couldn't believe what they were seeing.
Kronos… this guy…
His Conqueror's Haki was this strong?!
How could anyone stand toe-to-toe with their "father" like that?
At that moment, many suddenly remembered—Kronos was never weak. He simply chose to let his subordinates fight in most cases, rarely taking action himself.
But the truth was undeniable: Kronos was a peerless powerhouse in his own right, strong enough to rival even the Admirals and the Four Emperors. How could someone who had earned the title of Pirate Emperor possibly be weak?
If Kronos were truly a worthless fraud, he could never have kept so many terrifyingly powerful subordinates under his command.
And there was something most of the Whitebeard Pirates failed to notice.
On the surface, this Conqueror's Haki clash appeared evenly matched.
But in reality—
Kronos held the upper hand.
A single bead of cold sweat slid down Whitebeard's forehead. He had already realized it: there was a gap between himself and Kronos.
"This kid… barely in his early twenties… how can he wield such overwhelming Conqueror's Haki?"
Whitebeard could hardly believe it.
Never once had he imagined he would be surpassed in this field.
After Roger's death, he thought no one on the seas could rival him in sheer willpower. He had considered himself the undisputed king of Conquerors.
But now—this battle had forced him to confront the truth.
Was he truly growing old?
Was it finally time for him to step down from the stage of history?
The thought filled Whitebeard with bitterness and unwillingness.
Why… why is fate toying with me like this?
He simply couldn't accept it. The idea that a man more than forty years younger than him could wield such might—it was intolerable.
When he had first awakened his Conqueror's Haki, Kronos hadn't even been born!
The sheer contrast between past and present crushed at his heart. His mentality wavered on the verge of collapse.
"What's the matter, Whitebeard?"
Kronos's voice cut in sharply, his words carrying a mocking edge.
"Your expression looks a little grim. Could it be… you've realized it?"
Whitebeard's teeth ground together in silent fury. Half of him burned with rage, the other half frozen by helplessness. He knew he was being mocked, yet in this moment, he couldn't deny the truth of it.
And then Kronos spoke again. His next words left Whitebeard completely dumbstruck.
"You may not realize it," Kronos said lightly, "but up until now, I've only been using about ninety percent of my Conqueror's Haki."
His eyes narrowed.
"Now, I'll show you what happens when I get serious."
Whitebeard froze.
For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard.
Ninety percent?
The claim was absurd. Unbelievable.
Only ninety percent, and he was already being pushed back?
That was impossible!
Not even Roger—Gol D. Roger himself—had ever demonstrated such an overwhelming advantage in Conqueror's.
And yet Kronos stood here, calmly suggesting he could unleash even more.
"You don't believe me?" Kronos asked, his tone calm but cruel. "Then prepare yourself."
Before Whitebeard could process the meaning of those words, an indescribable aura erupted from Kronos.
The already terrifying Haki surged into an even higher realm—its intensity multiplying in an instant!
The gap between them widened further, vast and suffocating.
It was as if the sky itself had fallen, an endless abyss opening beneath Whitebeard's feet.
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