As Whitebeard's power surged, the iconic black bandana on his head which had survived countless legendary battles, seemed utterly fragile.
In the face of this divine power, it was instantly torn to shreds, its fragments scattered to the wind.
In its place, a mane of golden-white hair erupted, shimmering brilliantly as it rapidly lengthened, the gold fading to a pure, radiant white that continued to extend, flowing around him like a celestial cape.
His crescent-moon-shaped beard underwent an equally astonishing change, growing longer and more magnificent until it resembled two white dragon whiskers soaring through the sky.
Once this miraculous transformation was complete, Whitebeard's colossal form lay reclined atop the very storm clouds he had summoned, encircled by dazzling rings of crackling, crimson-black lightning.
The entire scene was one of myth and legend—a true Thunder God had descended upon the world.
At this moment, everyone—whether they were a Whitebeard Pirate, a Marine, or a Supernova—was utterly, completely stunned by the sight.
A tingling sensation crawled up their spines, and their eyes filled with a primal awe and reverence.
"Pops… is just too damn cool!" one of the pirates screamed, tears of admiration streaming down his face.
"That aura is completely off the charts!"
"Thunder God Form… this is the captain' true Thunder God Form!" Enel stammered, his usual godly arrogance completely gone, replaced by the pure, unadulterated awe of a zealot.
Under Kingdew's steady gaze, he finally admitted, "Compared to this, my own power is nothing!"
"Hahaha! Marco, I told you! I told you Pops is the strongest!" Ace shouted, his voice filled with triumphant relief.
"None of that nonsense about him being exhausted! Now you see it, right? You see his true power!"
Marco however, remained deeply puzzled, his medical knowledge warring with the impossible sight before him.
He felt as though he couldn't quite grasp the truth about his captain.
Logically, after such intense battles and grievous injuries, even with his Devil Fruits' enhancement, his stamina should have been completely depleted.
But how was he like this?
Still full of a terrifying, vibrant energy, as if the entire war had been nothing more than a warm-up. How was this possible?
"Ron, what's going on with Pops?" Marco asked, his brow furrowed as a deep, chilling unease crept into his voice.
"Something feels… off."
Faced with Marco's question, Ron also frowned, his analytical mind struggling to process the data. His voice was tinged with a shared concern and uncertainty.
"Is the Captain… pushing himself too hard?"
Marco once again turned his gaze toward the Thunder God in the sky, carefully observing his every movement, every micro-expression.
Though Pops appeared as spirited and powerful as ever on the surface, Marco, the ship's doctor who knew him best, could see it—a fleeting, almost imperceptible trace of deep exhaustion flickering in his eyes.
"..."
Marco studied Whitebeard intently once more.
"That's possible," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Pops always says a real man can't ever admit weakness."
Ron fell silent for a moment before nodding slowly.
"…Then that must be it."
Both of them understood.
This magnificent, god-like form wasn't a sign of limitless energy; it was a final, desperate gamble, burning the very last of his energy to ensure his family's safety.
If Whitebeard was truly forcing himself like this, his physical condition could deteriorate in an instant.
"What should we do?" Marco looked at Ron, his worry deepening.
"We can't afford to stay in this dangerous place any longer."
"We've taken everything we came for. Staying here serves no purpose now," Ron said decisively, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Besides, with Red Hair and the Marines joining forces, the Captain can handle himself. But with so many of us here, we're not helping him. We're a liability. We're putting him in greater danger by forcing him to protect us."
Hearing Ron's grim words, Ace's triumphant demeanor finally vanished
He realized things weren't as simple as they seemed.
Pops might truly be pushing himself beyond his limits for their sake.
Then, Ron turned to Ace, his gaze firm.
"Ace. Drag that guy out. We have no choice but to use that method now."
Ace nodded in response, a faint trace of worry flashing across his face before he turned and headed toward the back of the crowd.
Soon, he and Jozu reappeared, hauling a struggling figure between them.
It was Vice Admiral Momonga, bound tightly and gagged with cotton, his face bruised and swollen from a thorough beating.
The sight of the captive Vice Admiral sent a fresh wave of shock through the Marine ranks.
At that moment, Sengoku and Shanks were staring up at the Thunder God, their minds racing.
'This form…' Shanks thought, his expression graver than ever.
'It far exceeds my expectations.'
'The sheer oppressive force has multiplied tenfold. Just how much power has this old man been hiding all these years?'
Sengoku, too, frowned as he observed the nearly ten-meter-tall Whitebeard.
'What kind of technique is this? A Devil Fruit Awakening? If it is, an all-out battle now would reduce all of Marineford to ruins, transforming it into a raging thunderstorm island spanning thousands of miles!'
At that moment, Tsuru's calm voice drifted over the wind.
"Sengoku, proceed with caution."
He stiffened momentarily before nodding in silent acknowledgment.
It was then that Ron stepped forward, standing alone on Whitebeard's side, facing the combined might of the world's great powers.
Though his voice wasn't loud, it carried clearly across the silent battlefield.
"Sengoku. Shanks. Our captain has already decided to cease hostilities. What more do you want?"
Sengoku snorted coldly, his voice dripping with disdain.
"You didn't leave when you should have. Now you want to go? Don't you think it's a little too late for that?"
Shanks, meanwhile, fixed his intense gaze on Ron.
This was his first time seeing the young vice-captain in person.
He appeared even younger than the newspapers suggested.
"Ron, Vice-Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates," Shanks said, his voice calm but carrying immense weight.
"Do your words represent Whitebeard's will?"
"Hmm..." Ron frowned, his expression looking almost comically thoughtful, before he looked up at the colossal figure in the sky.
"Captain! They're asking you a question!"
Whitebeard's towering, ten-meter-tall frame loomed like a small mountain.
Upon hearing Ron's words, he turned an annoyed glare toward the group below.
"What the brat says is what I say!" he roared, his voice striking like a hammer to everyone's hearts.
"Don't ask such stupid questions again!"
Ron smiled faintly and turned back to Sengoku and Shanks.
"Hear that? That's our Captain's stance."
Sengoku: "..."
Shanks' eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze returned to Ron.
Whitebeard's attitude was crystal clear—every decision now revolved around Ron.
He had severely underestimated this young man's influence.
Now that a "ceasefire" had been established, what came next?