The call for a ceasefire echoed through the air like an invisible barrier, and the cacophony of war was instantly replaced by an eerie, unsettling silence.
The fighting had stopped.
On the faces of every Marine soldier, a complex mixture of relief, grief, and exhaustion was etched.
They slowly, almost mechanically, picked up their weapons, though the fire of battle no longer burned in their eyes.
Some knelt beside their severely wounded comrades, carefully and tenderly bandaging their injuries with shaking hands.
Others found the bodies of their fallen friends, lifting them onto their shoulders and trudging back toward the ships in heavy, measured steps.
The war had finally ended, but the devastation it had carved into the island and into their souls was overwhelming.
Then, as if drawn by a silent command, all eyes turned to one man: Whitebeard.
Everyone, pirate and marine alike, wondered what decision the legendary Emperor would make.
Would he honor the ceasefire, or would he continue this now-meaningless fight?
The air was thick with a tension so heavy it felt as if time itself had frozen.
Jozu glared furiously at Shanks, his eyes brimming with a fiery resentment.
He muttered under his breath, his voice a low, angry growl.
"What the hell is wrong with that guy? He's a pirate! Not only he didnt help us, but he's siding with the Marines? What kind of nonsense is that?! Has he forgotten where he came from?" His words dripped with a confusion and fury shared by many of his crewmates.
Ace nodded in agreement beside him, his arms crossed tightly.
"Yeah, I don't get it. Weird guy." He turned his gaze to their strategist.
"Ron, why do you think Red Hair did this? What could he possibly gain from helping the Marines?"
The other Whitebeard Pirates cast their own puzzled glances, clearly struggling to make sense of the situation.
Only Whitebeard himself remained perfectly calm, taking deep, steady swigs from his gourd of sake as the wound on his right arm visibly stitched itself back together.
Ron let out a low chuckle, as if he had been expecting their reactions all along.
"You might not understand even if I explain it perfectly," he began, his voice calm and measured amidst the tension.
"So just remember this one simple rule: on these seas, no powerful person ever does anything that is truly harmful or disadvantageous to themselves."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"If they do, it's because they're not powerful for long. Or they're a complete idiot."
The crew blinked, processing the cynical wisdom.
Then, the absurdity of it broke the tension, and they burst into laughter.
"HAHAHA!" Squard slapped his thigh, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"Damn, Ron, you nailed it!"
Another commander nodded in agreement.
"As expected of Vice-Captain Ron! That Red Hair guy must have his own angle!"
"Ron's absolutely right," Kingdew added. "Even if we don't know the exact reason he stopped the war, you can bet he has his own motives."
Ron smirked and continued, "In this ever-changing world, everyone has their own interests to consider. Shanks is no exception. On the surface, it looks like he's helping the Marines, but there could be deeper schemes at play. Perhaps he's using this opportunity to weaken a rival, or to maintain some kind of strategic balance in the world that benefits him. He isn't acting as a pirate right now; he's acting as an Emperor."
The crew listened intently while nodding.
They knew Ron's words always carried weight and often revealed the true essence of a situation.
Just then, the fragile peace was shattered.
A new, suffocating pressure fell over the battlefield.
Everyone immediately stopped smiling, their expressions turning tense as they faced the source of the pressure.
Whitebeard, however, remained as composed as ever, though he finally set down his drink.
"Gurararara… so even Roger's little cabin boy has become one of the Four Emperors now." Whitebeard's voice started as a low laugh but ended with a cold, hard edge.
He fixed his gaze on Red Hair Shanks, and the temperature of the entire plaza seemed to drop by several degrees.
"Newgate," Shanks' voice was low but firm, his piercing gaze locking onto Whitebeard's.
"This battle is meaningless now. Continuing it won't change anything." He then turned his attention to the entire battlefield, his voice booming across the sky, a clear and absolute declaration.
"If anyone here still wants to fight, then from here on out… I'll be your opponent!"
At these words, a deafening silence fell over the surroundings.
All eyes were fixed on these two powerhouses, knowing full well that a clash between them would be nothing short of earth-shattering.
Yet at that very moment, Whitebeard's expression which had been hard and cold, suddenly shifted.
His furrowed brow relaxed, and the corners of his lips curled into a smirk filled with profound and dangerous meaning.
"Gurararara…" Whitebeard let out a hearty laugh, but there was no mirth in his eyes—only a burning disdain.
"Red-Haired brat… are you threatening me now?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.
"Not even Roger dared to speak to me like that on my own battlefield."
As soon as he finished speaking, he casually lifted the enormous Murakumogiri beside him with one hand.
The blade glinted ominously, radiating an aura that sent a fresh wave of chills down every spine.
"You want to be my opponent?" Whitebeard's voice was now a thunderous roar.
"Then let's see if you have what it takes, boy!"
With those words, the very space around them seemed to tremble under the weight of his overwhelming presence.
Sengoku's expression darkened.
The situation had just spiraled completely beyond his control.
Whitebeard clearly had no intention of stopping.
The Marine vice admirals around him panted heavily, their silent gazes fixed on the old Emperor.
'What a monster', they all thought.
'Even after such an intense battle, he still has this much strength left to fight.'
Ron, however, stood to the side, completely unsurprised by Whitebeard's choice.
If his captain had simply agreed to a ceasefire after being challenged like that, he wouldn't be the legendary ruler of the seas.
In the world of pirates, strength reigns supreme.
Moreover, even as an Emperor, Shanks should have shown proper deference when facing a veteran of Whitebeard's stature.
And so, Whitebeard was… deeply dissatisfied with Shanks' attitude.
The air grew thick with the scent of gunpowder, ready to ignite at any moment.
Shanks' gaze sharpened slightly, as he clearly sensed the colossal, world-ending power gathering around Whitebeard.
It was obvious the other man wouldn't back down.
Just as he was about to say something more to ease the tension, a blinding flash of white light streaked across his vision.
Whitebeard had already made his move.
"Crack!"
A crisp sound rang out, like the sky itself was breaking.
A bolt of pure, white energy, crackling with the raw power of Conqueror's Haki, descended upon Shanks like an enraged dragon.
Faced with this sudden attack, Shanks' movements were a blur of fluid grace.
His sword, Gryphon, was swiftly drawn from its sheath.
In the blink of an eye, he casually swung his blade, shattering the descending lightning into countless tiny fragments of Haki that scattered harmlessly in all directions.
"Newgate," Shanks said, his voice still calm despite the attack.
"A ceasefire would benefit both sides."
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