With a deafening BOOM, it felt as though the entire world trembled in that single, violent instant.
In the sky, the roar of divine thunder echoed like the growl of a colossal beast, violently snapping everyone's thoughts back to reality from their chaotic musings.
They looked up in unison to see that the sky above Marineford was gone, completely shrouded by pitch-black thunderclouds.
The oppressive, sun-blocking sight filled them with an unprecedented dread, a suffocating feeling that stole the very air from their lungs.
Amid this stifling atmosphere, streaks of lightning slithered like serpents through the dense clouds, flickering with a blinding brilliance one moment and vanishing into the inky darkness the next.
The only constant sounds was the ceaseless, deep-throated rumble of thunder—a sound that was not just heard, but felt deep in the bones, as if heralding an imminent cataclysm.
Suddenly, as if summoned by some mysterious omnipotent force, the scattered bolts of lightning shifted their direction.
They ceased their chaotic dance and began to converge, all flowing toward a single point directly above Whitebeard.
As the lightning drew closer, a small, crackling orb of pure energy quietly formed in the stormy skies.
Then, more and more lightning was drawn into this ever-expanding sphere, a maelstrom of energy feeding upon itself.
It began to swell rapidly, its radiance growing from a spark to a star, becoming increasingly, painfully blinding.
Those witnessing this scene instinctively held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests.
The lightning orb expanded at a terrifying rate. In seconds, it was a hundred meters wide.
In a few more, five hundred.
Soon, it was a kilometer-wide sphere of raw untamed power, covering over half of Marineford in its terrifying shadow.
The shock in everyone's eyes turned to outright, paralyzing horror.
"You've got to be kidding me!" a marine screamed, his voice cracking.
"Is he planning to wipe Marineford off the map in a single strike?!"
"This is terrifying! Who could possibly block an attack of that magnitude?"
"A single bolt of that lightning is deadly enough—how are we supposed to survive a direct hit from that thing? We'll be vaporized!"
Even the arrogant Supernovas nearby were stunned into silence.
Had they really come all this way just to spectate their own annihilation? Apoo, Urouge, Drake, and the others couldn't help but retreat, their bravado finally cracking in the face of true world-ending power.
An attack like this was simply too horrifying—none of them wanted to die as collateral damage in a battle of gods.
Only Basil Hawkins remained in place, staring incomprehensibly at the scene.
According to his divination, while their chances of success were zero, their probability of surviving was one hundred percent.
'Surely we can't die from this attack, right?' he thought, his own faith being tested as he fixed his gaze intently on the battlefield, desperately searching for the glimmer of hope his cards had promised.
Ron also looked up at the spectacle, a low whistle escaping his lips.
"Is the captain serious this time?" he muttered to himself.
Still, a part of him thought that destroying Marineford wouldn't be so bad—it would certainly mean fewer troubles for them in Paradise.
"Here's a gift for you, rookie brat!" Whitebeard's voice boomed.
He slightly clenched his free hand as if grasping the storm itself, then swung it fiercely toward Shanks.
"Thunder Descent!"
With that deafening roar, the colossal lightning energy sphere—now easily three kilometers in diameter—was unleashed.
It descended from the sky not like a projectile, but like a falling moon, hurtling straight toward Shanks below, yet threatening to engulf everything and everyone.
It was like standing on the ground, watching helplessly as the heavens came crashing down.
Awe.
Insignificance.
Dread.
Words failed to describe the sheer terror of it.
Seeing this, Sengoku immediately transformed, his massive golden Buddha form radiating a desperate light as he prepared to try and block the incoming attack.
Garp, too, coated his fists in the thickest layer of Armament Haki he could muster, his expression utterly grave.
Both legends knew that against such overwhelming power, their individual strength was meaningless.
"Sengoku! Garp!" Shanks' voice cut through the roar of the descending storm.
"This is bad! I might not be able to protect everyone alone!"
His entire body erupted with an intense crimson Haki and his sword Gryphon shimmered with a bloody light.
Sengoku exchanged a heavy, grim glance with Garp and nodded once.
"Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. We'll join forces!"
The red-haired man gave a slight nod, his blazing eyes locked onto the massive lightning sphere.
With a powerful stomp that split the ground beneath him, he shot into the air like a crimson arrow loosed from its bow.
Gripping Gryphon tightly, his Conqueror's Haki surged wildly, concentrating with impossible speed into the blade.
The muscles in his arms bulged, veins standing out like coiled steel cables.
This strike had to succeed.
He was giving it everything he had.
"Divine Departure!"
The blade itself emitted an ear-splitting roar, like the howl of gods and demons, shaking the very fabric of space.
Swinging the sword with all his might, Shanks cleaved straight through the enormous lightning sphere.
The world darkened for a split second, save for a single, dazzling arc of crimson light that split the darkness like the first ray of dawn.
The overwhelming sword aura shot towards the sky, cleanly bisecting the terrifying sphere of lightning.
The two divided halves of the sphere, their energy destabilized, toppled slowly to either side and the air grew thick with the scent of scorched ozone.
Shanks had thought the battle was over.
He was about to leave the aftermath to Sengoku and Garp while he prepared to land.
Yet, just as he was about to let his guard down, an inexplicable sense of absolute dread suddenly surged in his heart, followed by a chilling numbness that crawled across his scalp.
He jerked his head up, only to see a flash of cold, familiar light hurtling toward him at an astonishing speed from the very center of the exploding thunderball.
In the blink of an eye, it was already upon him.
It was Whitebeard's Cloud-Cutting Sword, the Murakumogiri, hidden within the storm.
Faced with this sudden perfectly timed attack, Shanks wanted to raise his sword to block, but with his strength spent from his ultimate attack, it was already far too late.
"Hah!"
With a soft, sickening sound, the razor-sharp blade mercilessly sliced deep into his body.
Blood gushed out wildly, splattering in all directions and staining the air crimson.
The scene unfolded so quickly that no one could react.
They could only watch helplessly as one of the Four Emperors suffered a grievous wound.
Crack!
A final bolt of lightning split the sky, and in the flash of light, Whitebeard's figure slowly emerged from the dissipating energy, looking down at the wounded Emperor.
"Gurararara… Brat," he rumbled, his voice laced with the cold satisfaction of a seasoned predator.
"Your strength is decent, but your experience is sorely lacking."
Hearing this voice, Shanks expression changed drastically, his pupils shrinking.
He could hardly believe it.
Though his body was screaming in exhaustion and agony, he mustered the last of his strength to desperately retreat, fearing Whitebeard would strike again.
Yet, to everyone's surprise, Whitebeard showed no intention of continuing his attack.
Instead, he simply stood there quietly, his gaze fixed intently on the faintly glowing blood pooling on the ground below.
"Good stuff," he said, a terrifyingly satisfied grin spreading across his face.
[Whitebeard the blood farmer!]