Black-red lightning crackled in the void, flickering in and out of existence. The sea erupted in massive, rolling waves, and high above, the clouds swirled together at a visible speed, gathering into a colossal black vortex that blotted out the sky.
Roaring gales surged through the thunder-filled air, pressing down on everyone aboard the Moby Dick. Even the strongest turned pale, and the weaker among them buckled under the overwhelming pressure that pierced straight into their souls—falling to one knee, gasping for breath.
Marco and the others stared in alarm at Roger, whose body was now engulfed in arcs of black-red lightning. Their teeth clenched, a chill crawling up their spines.
That overwhelming aura—so lofty and commanding, as if standing above the world...
No matter how many tis they'd witnessed it, it still shook them to their core!
"Oi, oi, oi—blasting your Haki around the mont we et? That's a nasty habit, you know!"
From his throne-like seat on the ship, Whitebeard finally spoke, his tone tinged with irritation.
And the mont his voice dropped, his golden eyes snapped open. A titanic aura surged out from his burly fra with a deafening roar.
CRACKLE!!
Black lightning burst into being with a thunderous roar, raging in defiance.
Two imnse forces—unfathomably deep and terrifying—clashed in the air between Roger and Whitebeard.
It was like watching the abyss collide with the abyss.
Black lightning shot skyward in a blinding torrent. A colossal column of shock force punched through the clouds overhead.
The sea of clouds shattered, reford, shattered again—over and over.
The world itself changed color.
In the eyes of the pirates watching in horror, reality seed to twist and invert. Color drained from the world, leaving only stark black and white.
A tremor like an earthquake roared out from the Moby Dick and the Oro Jackson.
Towering tsunamis—dozens of ters tall—rose and overlapped. Centered around the two pirate ships, they surged outward in every direction, engulfing the surrounding seas for tens of nautical miles.
And then—at that very mont—
The two legends who had unleashed this awe-inspiring clash... moved.
CLANG!!
Two Supre Grade Blades were drawn in unison. In a single breath, Whitebeard and Roger leapt from their places and brought down their weapons.
A mont of absolute silence followed.
Black-red lightning compressed violently between the two peerless weapons, forming a dense sphere of energy. The howling wind tore the captain's hats from their heads—black and golden hair alike whipped wildly in the storm.
Amidst the flashing thunder, their faces lit up—grins wide and wild with battlelust.
"Hahahahaha! Newgate!! Other than Garp, you're the only one who can make my blood boil like this!!"
Roger's laughter rang out, his grin filled with childlike delight—like a boy reunited with his favorite toy.
"After all this ti, and the first thing you do is swing your sword at ...
Is that your idea of a greeting, Roger?"
Whitebeard's eyes blazed with fighting spirit, his white captain's coat flaring behind him.
And then—
"Roger! That's enough!! Don't forget why we're here!!"
Rayleigh's voice thundered from the deck of the Moby Dick.
"Pops!! If you keep this up, our ship's gonna sink!!"
Marco yelled, desperate.
As their voices rang out, the energy compressed between the two Supre Blades could no longer hold.
BOOM!!
A blinding flash of white consud the sky, turning the blackened heavens into day for an instant.
An even greater storm surged forth—the sea shrieking as if in pain, forced to bow before the wills of two kings.
No one knew how long it lasted.
But eventually... peace returned.
The waves cald. The ocean once again turned a clear, deep blue.
As Roger and Whitebeard slowly sheathed their weapons, both crews exhaled in deep relief—deliberately ignoring the massive rift now torn across the sky above them.
They'd long since grown numb to such things.
"Che! What a buzzkill."
Roger muttered as he slid his sword back into its scabbard, clearly annoyed—but the sharp glare from Rayleigh made him shrink back instantly.
Whitebeard, too, looked back at his sons with disapproval—only to be cut off by Marco's pointed remark:
"We don't have the money to fix the ship, you know."
He swallowed the words in his throat with a bitter snort.
Seeing the stubborn looks on their captains' faces, both Marco and Rayleigh couldn't help twitching at the corners of their mouths.
These damn old n...
The sa thought echoed in their minds.
And then, as if sharing in each other's pain, they exchanged an apologetic smile.
"So tell , Roger—what brings you here, really?"
Whitebeard reached for a massive jug of sake—nearly half a man's height—and poured Roger a bowl so large it could drown a fish. Sitting down heavily, he took a swig and asked, impatient.
Roger's face lit up at the sight of alcohol. He grinned, downed the whole bowl in one long gulp, and shalessly pushed the empty bowl back toward Whitebeard.
"No rush. It's been a while—we should drink first."
Watching his eager expression and empty cup, Whitebeard couldn't help wondering if the bastard had run out of money and co here just to mooch so booze.
With a sigh, he refilled Roger's bowl, then added pointedly:
"Our ti is short. Garp and Sengoku have already led their elites into the New World. It took so work to shake them off."
Whitebeard didn't fear Garp or Sengoku—but if he could avoid clashing with the Marine's main force, he preferred to.
Partly because the Marine's strength was no joke—backed by the World Governnt, any battle would drag out endlessly with no real benefit.
And more importantly...
He didn't want to see his "sons" hurt or killed.
Even with all his strength, if it ca to all-out war with the Marine, he couldn't guarantee every one of his crew would make it out alive.
Unlike the reckless man before him, who ran wild across the seas without a care in the world...
Whitebeard had grown too powerful, too rooted. With vast territories and countless crew mbers under his protection, he bore a weighty responsibility.
One that bound him more than any chain.
"What's there to fear? Worst case, we throw down and have a grand old fight."
Roger laughed, unfazed.
CLANG!
Rayleigh smacked him across the head with a hand chop, raising a smoking welt.
"Talk."
His teeth clenched as he spoke.
Roger winced in pain, rubbing his head as his expression slowly turned serious.
"Newgate...
You know I've been searching for the end of this sea..."
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To be continued...
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