Kizaru leaned weakly against a shattered wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He was utterly exhausted, held together by little more than stubbornness.
Already severely injured and having lost a significant amount of blood, his fierce, high-speed battle with the relentless Jozu had pushed his body far beyond its limits.
Continuing to fight wasn't just a risk; it was a death sentence.
"Arara… what a troublesome situation this has become," Aokiji muttered, his usual lazy tone strained with weariness.
He too had sustained serious injuries in this battle, but worst of all, his signature naturally curly hair had been badly singed by a stray blast of dragon fire.
The thought of it infuriated him to no end.
The other Marine reinforcements hadn't directly engaged in the worst of the combat.
They stood in stunned silence, unable to fully grasp the sheer gravity of the hellscape before them.
Vice Admiral Gion—better known by her epithet, Momousagi—stared at Whitebeard in pure awe, her face filled with a confusion that bordered on disbelief.
"This is unbelievable," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fires.
"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it."
Her gaze was fixed on the vigorous and imposing Emperor, and she couldn't help but marvel.
"It's simply unimaginable! The intelligence reports, the rumors… they all said Whitebeard needed daily IV drips just to stay alive. Yet here he is, fighting with such terrifying strength that he's chasing after a young powerhouse like Red Hair! How frightening!"
Suddenly, as Whitebeard turned his head, a stray sunbeam caught his hair and Momousagi noticed something impossible.
Golden streaks were mixed into the pure white of his famous crescent-moon mustache and mane.
Her pupils constricted in shock.
"Could his Mythical Zoan abilities really be this incredible? Even his hair… it has regressed to his youth!"
The moment the words "regressed to youth" left her lips, Vice Admiral Tsuru, who had been quietly observing beside her, raised a questioning eyebrow.
Momousagi hurried forward eagerly, her voice filled with a new, intense curiosity.
"Tsuru-san, look! Whitebeard! Look at his hair—there are golden streaks now! It used to be completely white!"
Tsuru's sharp eyes followed her gaze, and she too saw it.
Momousagi's beautiful eyes widened in astonishment and a touch of envy as she took in Whitebeard's transformed appearance, as if witnessing a miracle.
"It's actually true," she murmured to herself, her mind reeling with tumultuous thoughts.
A shocking theory began to form, waves of speculation crashing through her.
'Could the Whitebeard Pirates really have a method to reverse aging?'
In this world brimming with miracles and the unknown, nothing was truly impossible.
And when she thought of that mysterious young man named Ron—the architect behind the Whitebeard pirates rise—it made everything seem within reach.
'That makes sense,' Momousagi continued to ponder, her thoughts accelerating.
'If they've mastered the heaven-defying technology to allow a person to possess multiple Devil Fruit abilities, a feat the World Government has pursued for centuries without success, then reversing the aging process must also be possible for them.'
As she thought this, stars seemed to sparkle in her eyes, as if she'd glimpsed the most fascinating, most valuable treasure in the entire world.
All because of that young man named Ron.
A bold, audacious idea suddenly flashed through her mind.
An unconsciously enchanting smile curled at the corners of her lips, as though she'd already found the solution to all her problems, all her worries vanishing like mist.
....
Meanwhile, Ron remained oblivious, his attention focused on the clash of Emperors, completely unaware that he had just become the target of a very powerful and very curious Vice Admiral.
The battle raged on.
Shanks expression grew increasingly grave as he observed Whitebeard, whose body was now crackling with a storm of crimson-black lightning.
He had made a choice to come here.
He'd even given up a precious, long-awaited chance to see his daughter Uta, rushing to Marineford instead to prevent this very catastrophe.
Because if Navy Headquarters fell, if Whitebeard crippled the Marines, the delicate balance of the New World—and the entire Grand Line—would undergo earth-shaking changes.
His own long-term plans and the legacy of Captain Roger's will, would all be severely impacted.
They might even be reduced to ashes.
This was an outcome he could not accept.
And yet, to his surprise, these people wouldn't even give him face.
Seeing Whitebeard's unreasonable and unyielding stance, he had no choice but to steel himself and stop him by force.
Shanks tightened his grip on his sword, Gryphon, as his Conqueror's Haki erupted from him once more.
This time, he held nothing back.
Crimson-black Haki coiled around his blade, instantly revitalizing Gryphon, which had seemed somewhat dull moments before.
As Shanks released his Haki at full strength, the famous sword began to tremble slightly, as though it had been imbued with a life of its own, sensing its master's determination and fury.
Even Shanks' eyes took on a bloody hue, glowing red with a trace of madness.
This overwhelming surge of Haki didn't just intimidate his enemies; it placed an unprecedented pressure on the Navy Vice Admirals still struggling to hold their ground.
Men like Onigumo and Doberman felt their bodies weaken, as if an invisible mountain were pressing down on them, threatening to crush them into the ground.
Just as their consciousness teetered on the brink of darkness, both men instinctively resorted to an extreme measure—fiercely stabbing daggers into their own thighs.
The sharp, searing pain jolted their minds back to alertness.
"Such terrifying Haki…" Doberman gasped, blood running down his leg.
"Indeed," Onigumo replied, his voice filled with a pained awe.
"I almost couldn't withstand it."
Other Vice Admirals who reacted a moment slower couldn't withstand the pressure.
One by one, they lost consciousness, collapsing to the ground.
Sengoku's pupils contracted sharply.
This was the first time he had witnessed Shanks going all out with his own eyes, and the sheer impact far exceeded his darkest expectations.
"To think," he marveled inwardly, "The brat from Roger's crew… has grown so powerful."
Garp, however, gritted his teeth in pure frustration.
If not for the special circumstances, he would have long given in to his fury and personally stepped forward to teach that red-haired bastard a brutal lesson.
'If not for this guy showing up in Windmill Village all those years ago', he fumed internally.
'how could my grandson have ever set sail to become a pirate?!'
That was his grandson!
The one he had personally trained!
The one destined to become the King of the Marines!
Yet now, everything had been ruined by Red Hair!
"Powerful my ass!" Garp gnashed his teeth, his voice a low, furious rumble that only Sengoku could hear.
"If not for the current situation, I'd have already gone up there and pounded him into the ground myself!"
Sengoku didn't even turn his head.
He just stood there, watching two of the world's strongest men prepare to tear the island apart, while the Hero of the Marines stood beside him, complaining about his family problems.
"..."
'Do you even hear yourself right now, Garp?' he thought, a deep, profound weariness settling into his bones.
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