Monet's concern was not without reason.
After all, what is a Yonko?
In the vast, chaotic seas of the New World, the Yonko stand at the very pinnacle—superpower pirates ruling entire territories with absolute dominance. Each one is a sea emperor. None of them are to be taken lightly.
How else could they control so much territory, clash head-on with the World Government and Navy, and strike fear into the hearts of even the fiercest pirates?
Jack the Drought.
Charlotte Cracker.
Two top officers from opposing Yonko crews. For any sane person, witnessing a battle between them meant one thing: run—as far and as fast as possible. Only a fool would ever think to involve themselves in a clash of this magnitude.
To Monet, Whiteflame was exactly that kind of fool.
"Heh heh heh…"
"Jack the Drought, isn't your so-called Beasts Pirates supposed to be fearsome? So far, you haven't even managed to break through three hundred of my soldiers."
"I've still got three thousand more waiting."
Cracker let out a mocking laugh.
He sat at the rear of the battlefield, guarded by dozens of Biscuit Soldiers with six arms each—towering, shield-bearing monstrosities. Nothing—not even a fly—could slip past them.
When it came to mass-scale combat, Cracker's confidence was absolute.
But what few knew was this: he was incredibly sensitive to pain. Even something as small as a needle prick terrified him. If he were ever struck directly in battle, the consequences would be disastrous.
That fear had driven him to push the limits of the Biscuit-Biscuit Fruit. Through relentless mastery, he had turned a seemingly mundane Paramecia-type ability into a one-man army that terrified even other Yonko officers.
"You arrogant bastard!" Jack roared.
"Don't get cocky with me!"
"This pathetic stall tactic isn't going to save your life. Let's see how long you can keep this up!"
Still in his mammoth form, Jack trampled through the battlefield—using his trunk, hooves, and head as living weapons. Any Biscuit Soldier that came near was shattered on contact.
But just because Jack could destroy them didn't mean his subordinates could.
Each Biscuit Soldier could hold off several of the Beasts Pirates' Zoan users at once. It often took three to five of them working together to bring one down—and that's if they didn't get injured doing it.
If a soldier landed even a single solid hit, the results were devastating. The only reason Jack's troops were still standing was their Zoan endurance. Without it, most of them would've already been wiped out.
"Zoan-types… such a pain in the ass."
"Thick skin or not, let's see how far that gets you!"
"Not all of you are awakened—so those who aren't… get ready to fall!"
Cracker slashed his greatsword through the air. Shattered Biscuit Soldiers reformed instantly, returning to battle stronger than before.
"Is this ever going to end?!"
"These damn biscuit men are way too tough—and their strength is insane! It takes several of us just to scratch one of them!"
"And now they're all back up again?! When does this stop?!"
"Boss Jack! You're the strongest! Just charge in and finish off that bastard in the back! If this keeps going, we're done for!"
Jack's crew shouted in desperation.
"Like I need you idiots to tell me that?!"
"I've had it with this biscuit freak! I don't care if he's a Sweet Commander or a damn baker—I'm going to grind his cookie army into dust and crush him under my heel!"
With a deafening bellow, Jack whipped his trunk like a wrecking ball, blasting multiple Biscuit Soldiers into crumbs.
RRROOOAAARR!!
With another thunderous cry, the enormous mammoth began to charge. The earth trembled under his massive frame, the ground quaking with each step as he barreled toward Cracker like a runaway train.
"You think you can take me down? You're dreaming, Jack."
Cracker sneered.
[Hardened Biscuit: Fortress Shield!]
With a clap of his hands, dozens of Biscuit Soldiers surrounded him—stacking layer upon layer, shields raised high like a living fortress. Each shield was reinforced with Armament Haki.
BOOM!
A thunderous crash rocked the battlefield. The biscuit fortress was shoved back several steps before collapsing under the impact. Over a dozen soldiers were obliterated…
…but the rest held firm.
Cracker had successfully tanked Jack's full-speed charge.
"Heh heh heh…!"
"Go ahead—try again!"
"My army is endless! Break them all if you can!"
Cracker laughed maniacally from atop one of his Biscuit Soldiers, drunk on his own momentum.
Jack's expression darkened with rage.
"You arrogant piece of shit…!"
"I'll make you regret that laugh!"
Jack bellowed and reared up again, trunk raised high, ready to trample Cracker into the dirt.
The battle raged on, escalating beyond anything the island had seen. Despite fewer than a hundred actual combatants, the destruction rivaled a clash between armies of tens of thousands. Explosions shook the earth. The town had already been completely leveled—nothing remained.
Clap. Clap. Clap…
Suddenly, amidst the chaos, the crisp sound of applause rang out—so clear it cut through the noise like a blade.
Everyone froze.
Several fighters, caught off guard, were struck by their enemies and sent flying.
"Hm?"
Jack, mid-charge, turned his massive head, eyes narrowing with confusion.
"Who the hell…?"
Cracker stood atop his soldier's shoulders, blade resting on his shoulder. His eyes turned cold as he looked toward the sound.
"Another player entering the field?"
All at once, everyone saw the source of the applause—a man standing calmly on a rooftop, surveying the battlefield with casual amusement.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
"Watching two Yonko officers go head-to-head… now that's entertainment."
The one who had interrupted them—was Whiteflame.
He stood atop a ruined house, eyes scanning the wreckage below. His gaze lingered a second longer on Jack… but finally settled on Cracker.
"Where the hell did you come from, runt?" one of Jack's subordinates barked.
"Can't you see grown-ups are talking?"
"Those damn biscuit men won't die, but you? You'll bleed just fine!"
"Time to die, you arrogant little punk!"
Up above, a vulture Zoan user from the Beasts Pirates—frustrated that the biscuit soldiers he'd taken down had already regenerated—redirected his fury toward Whiteflame.
With a screech, he dove down like a missile, wings folded, claws aimed straight for Whiteflame's heart.
"So we're starting already?"
"Well then—perfect."
A grin curled across Whiteflame's lips.
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