For a moment, the air aboard the warship froze solid.
"W-Whitebeard…!"
The Headquarters lieutenant's binoculars slipped from his hands and clattered onto the deck. His face drained of color at a visible speed, lips trembling uncontrollably.
"Why… why would Whitebeard be on a Marine route…?"
On Gern's side, whether it was imagination or not, the sea wind suddenly felt sharper, cutting across his cheeks like blades.
That mountain-like figure in the distance didn't need to do anything at all. Just standing there casually, he seemed to press the weight of the entire sea onto Gern's chest.
"All hands—Level One combat readiness!"
The lieutenant suddenly shrieked, his voice cracking into something hysterical.
"Contact Headquarters immediately! Activate the red emergency channel!
The one we're facing now is one of the strongest beings alive since the end of the Rocks era—
Edward Newgate!!"
The deck erupted into chaos.
Marines scattered like headless flies. Someone knocked over an ammunition crate, brass rounds rolling wildly across the deck. A signalman stumbled toward the cabin and nearly tripped over his own feet.
"Ensign Gern, return to your post immediately!"
The lieutenant swallowed hard as he looked at the man before him—this newly promoted officer bound for Marine Headquarters, a long white-wrapped blade on his back. His uniform was already soaked through with cold sweat.
"That's a monster who can raise tsunamis, Ensign Gern!"
Hearing the lieutenant's voice, Gern slowly shifted his gaze, eyes half-lidded.
The so-called Headquarters elite before him now looked nothing like the West Blue soldiers who had seen him off at the port three days ago.
Suddenly, Gern remembered Branch Commander Asahi's tear-streaked face, sniffling and sobbing.
Heh.
The difference wasn't that big after all.
"Distance—one point five nautical miles!" the lookout shouted, voice shaking.
"No sign of acceleration from the target!"
"Ensign Gern, please—"
The voices around him began to fade.
As Gern looked back toward the horizon, his pupils shrank to needle points. His right hand rose instinctively, gripping the hilt of the black blade Eight Desolations.
At this moment, his entire world contained only that towering figure.
Whitebeard stood casually at the bow of his ship, white captain's cloak snapping in the wind. He hadn't even bothered to look toward the Marine warship.
"Whitebeard…"
Gern realized he was shaking—not from fear, but from exhilaration.
Eight Desolations slid free of its sheath. Vibration particles began to gather unconsciously around his right hand.
"I actually want to feel it…"
The corner of Gern's mouth twitched into a stiff grin as sweat slid from his temple to his jaw.
"…the so-called strongest in the world—"
"Attack—!"
The word was on the edge of his lips when suddenly—
The black blade pulsed.
Clang!
A clear, ringing sword cry cut through the chaos like a blade of clarity.
Gern looked down at the trembling steel. Blood that had been frozen by instinct surged hot once more. His shaking fingers tightened.
The deck beneath his feet quivered.
Every Marine who had been watching him instinctively retreated a step, sensing the unmistakable presence of vibration.
"Ensign Gern! Have you lost your mind?!"
The lieutenant's desperate warning sounded distant now, drowned out by the thunder of Gern's own heartbeat.
On the other ship—
As Whitebeard's first "son," the young man with pineapple-shaped blond hair, Marco, had already noticed the Marine warship.
"Pops, I told you from the start we shouldn't sail along Marine routes."
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard laughed loudly.
"But we're already here, aren't we? Sengoku and Garp won't just be waiting for us, right?"
"Pops…" Marco pressed his lips together. He knew Whitebeard was searching for "sons," but this kind of trouble could have been avoided.
"Alright, alright."
Whitebeard, who had gained a family, actually enjoyed Marco's nagging—it made him happy.
"Marco, I'll—"
Before he could finish, a powerful burst of Kenbunshoku Haki caught something unusual—
A pure, unhidden killing intent.
And it was aimed squarely at him.
Whitebeard seized his bisento Murakumogiri, snapped his head around, and locked his gaze onto the Marine warship—onto the lone figure standing at its bow.
"Pops…"
"Marco," Whitebeard grinned, teeth flashing.
"There's a really interesting brat over there."
"Gurarara! To dare release this kind of presence at me—then stop hiding it already!!!"
—
The moment Whitebeard finally looked his way, Gern felt an electric current race up his spine and explode at the crown of his head.
It wasn't the fear of being prey.
It was tremor—the kind that comes from staring into something overwhelmingly vast.
In that instant, he understood why moths fly into flames.
"WHITEBEARD!!!"
Gern's roar tore through the sea wind.
The bandages around Eight Desolations burst apart on their own. Ash-gray fragments hung suspended in the air like a swarm of death butterflies, each edge crackling with vibration arcs sharp enough to slice space itself.
"Gurararara…" Whitebeard's booming laughter rolled across the waves.
"Marine brat—hold your ground!"
He casually swung his right arm.
The sea itself shuddered.
Crack!
The air ahead fractured like an enormous glass dome under unbearable pressure, spiderweb cracks racing outward.
An invisible shock of震—pure quake force—crushed the air and surged toward Gern's warship.
Where it passed, the sea surface was violently pressed down and torn apart, leaving behind a fleeting, distorted trail.
The kind of "casual quake shock" that Whitebeard barely used even at Marineford—
to him now, it was nothing more than a flick of the wrist.
Gern's pupils constricted sharply.
His left fist clenched, vibration particles screaming between his fingers like shrill insects.
When his arm carved out an arc identical to Whitebeard's—
Everyone froze.
The instant the two quake forces collided, the world went silent.
Crack—BOOM!!!
Space twisted. The atmosphere was violently evacuated.
The resulting vacuum explosion crushed the sea into a hundred-meter-wide crater before the ocean rushed back in, detonating upward in a torrential blast.
Watching Gern's vibration particles cancel out his own quake, Whitebeard raised an eyebrow and planted Murakumogiri heavily against the deck.
"Oh?"
"There's a Marine brat who can shake things too?"
Beside him, Marco stood rigid at the bow, pupils shaking violently, mouth hanging open.
He stared at Gern's left arm, glowing faintly with vibration light.
"N-No way…" Marco's voice came out hoarse, his worldview cracking apart.
"That's Pops' power… isn't it?!
How can he have it?!"
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