But Shanks hadn't eaten the "Face Fruit" yet, nor had he reached his peak.
So what gave him the right to try and stop this war?
Just his useless courage?
Whitebeard's stubborn temper was infamous. Once he made up his mind, not even nine oxen could drag him back.
In this world, the only things that could soften his heart were his beloved sons—and that poor, forgotten hometown he had secretly protected all his life.
Unbidden, a scene from the original Marineford War surfaced in Tenma's mind.
Even at the very end of his life, Whitebeard had used his final strength to speak for Roger's gradually forgotten era, injecting madness and passion back into the seas.
Though Whitebeard had never been to the final island, Laugh Tale, he understood certain aspects of Roger's way of doing things very well—so much so that it carried a strange mix of rivalry, admiration, and support.
As for the current Red-Haired Shanks, he himself knew that his raw strength still wasn't enough.
The only capital that could make Whitebeard take him seriously was his identity as a former member of the Roger Pirates.
After a moment's thought, Tenma decided that rather than sitting in Wano and waiting, he might as well take the initiative and go meet them.
His army had already been tempered by war and was itching for another fight.
A full-scale clash with the Whitebeard Pirates was not something he feared in the slightest.
At this point, the only thing Tenma truly cared about was the title of "Strongest Man in the World."
He wanted to test it for himself.
The scene shifted to the New World, in the outer seas near Whitebeard's homeland—Sphinx Island.
Ever since the allied fleets had been sent out to snatch up Kaido's territory, the atmosphere aboard the Moby Dick had changed.
The usual boisterous banquets and heavy drinking were gone, replaced by a grim, tense stillness before a great battle.
Every man silently polished his weapons, waiting for the moment when chaos erupted on Kaido's former turf—then the Whitebeard Pirates would pounce on Wano like a tiger unleashed from its cage.
This would be a hard fight, but not yet an all-or-nothing war to the death.
After all, the original fuse was nothing more than that petty matter of staking a flag on Fish-Man Island.
Whitebeard's intent in setting out was simply to teach Tenma—a junior who didn't know the rules and meddled recklessly—a deep and unforgettable lesson.
Originally, the plan had been to beat Tenma down, grab some spoils, and call it a day.
But as the so-called "battle of the summit" escalated further and further, the situation had completely flipped.
What had once looked like justified self-defense, after being publicly declared, had turned into a blatant offensive—an outright campaign to knock on Wano's door and start trouble.
Marco, who was conducting Whitebeard's routine medical checkup, felt a flash of regret.
If they hadn't stirred up so much trouble back then—or if he'd stopped the family from going to Wano in the first place—they'd probably just be looting Kaido's leftovers now. There'd be no need to provoke a monster like Tenma.
Marco wasn't afraid of war, and he trusted his old man's strength completely.
But as the ship's doctor, he understood better than anyone what it meant to fight a monster on Tenma's level.
It could easily result in a pile of severely wounded comrades.
Even worse, Whitebeard's physical condition lately was far from optimistic.
Though he kept forcing himself to look fine in front of everyone, Marco knew his old ailments were starting to rebound.
Once Whitebeard engaged someone like Tenma, the intense use of his abilities would inevitably place even greater strain on his body.
As far as Marco was concerned, once Whitebeard's health was involved, no matter how the battle went, it was a losing deal.
Just then, a shout rang out from the crow's nest atop the main mast.
"Ship ahead! From the flag—it looks like Red-Haired Shanks' ship!"
Marco's heart jumped. His arms instantly transformed into blue flames as he took to the air, snatching the telescope from the lookout.
Through the lens, he saw a three-masted ship with a dragon-headed prow sporting two strange horns, its Jolly Roger marked by a skull with a red bandage over its left eye, slowly approaching.
"That's right—it's Red-Haired Shanks' Red Force!" Marco confirmed.
Though Shanks' crew hadn't been in the New World long, the recent nation-destroying incident had made them infamous.
Coupled with the fact that Shanks had sailed under Roger, even the old hands of the Whitebeard Pirates recognized him—let alone Whitebeard himself.
"That red-haired brat from Roger's ship, huh?" Whitebeard muttered, narrowing his eyes.
Soon, a pirate ran over to shout across the water. Not long after, he scampered back and reported excitedly:
"Dad! Red-Hair says he wants to come aboard and see you!"
"Gurararara! Let him come!" Whitebeard laughed loudly.
Before long, the Red Force pulled alongside the Moby Dick.
After the gangplank was set, the Red-Haired Pirates crossed over one by one, Shanks leading the way with an absurdly large jug of sake in hand.
"Long time no see, Whitebeard."
Shanks dragged the jug to the center of the deck and stood opposite Whitebeard, his tone neither humble nor arrogant.
"That apprentice brat from Roger's ship has really made something of himself," Whitebeard said.
Even seated, his massive frame towered over Shanks. Looking down at him, his voice was calm, betraying no emotion. "But every time I see your face, all those unpleasant memories come rushing back."
"Then my apologies. That's why I brought a gift," Shanks replied cheerfully.
Facing the uncrowned king of the seas, Shanks—still considered a newcomer in the New World—showed not a hint of fear.
He flashed a broad grin and heaved the massive jug toward Whitebeard.
"This is fine sake from my hometown—something our captain used to talk about all the time."
Whitebeard caught the jug easily with one hand, sniffed it, then took a huge swig without hesitation.
A satisfied look crossed his face.
"Gurararara! Good stuff. Fine sake."
After the praise, Whitebeard's gaze sharpened like a blade as it swept over Shanks and his crew.
"What? Bringing the whole family just to deliver a gift? Don't tell me you're here to seek my protection—to become my son?"
Shanks shook his head with a smile.
"I didn't come here looking for a father. Compared to living under someone else, I prefer carving my own path at sea."
The words were polite enough, but to the Whitebeard Pirates, they sounded grating.
The crew immediately erupted.
"Being Dad's son is an honor! You looking down on the Whitebeard Pirates, punk?!"
"That's right! A newbie who hasn't even secured his footing in the New World—don't end up getting swallowed by the waves and fed to the fish!"
Shanks ignored the shouting completely, maintaining his casual smile.
Truth be told, Whitebeard did appreciate Shanks.
But he also knew this boy was Roger's chosen inheritor of the straw hat—there was no way he'd ever become his son. That remark had only been made in jest.
Being refused was mildly irritating, but seeing his sons getting so worked up was even more embarrassing.
Before Whitebeard could speak, Marco stepped in.
"Enough! All of you shut up! This guy came from Roger's ship—he's not someone you can casually belittle."
Invoking the Pirate King's name worked instantly.
The shouting pirates fell silent, staring wide-eyed at Shanks.
As respect returned, the atmosphere on deck finally became suitable for conversation again.
Whitebeard continued, "That's a shame. But if you ever change your mind, my ship will always welcome you, brat."
Then his tone shifted.
"Alright. Tell me your real reason for coming. Don't tell me you traveled all this way just to deliver a jug of sake."
Shanks' smile faded, replaced by a solemn expression.
He produced a large sake bowl from somewhere, filled it, and drank it in one go—as if completing a ritual—before speaking seriously.
"I'm here to stop the Whitebeard Pirates from going to war with Wano."
The moment those words fell, the air seemed to freeze.
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed, and an invisible pressure instantly blanketed the deck of the Moby Dick.
Sensing the change in their father's aura, the Whitebeard Pirates' gazes turned sharp.
As if receiving a signal, many drew their weapons, murderous intent surging.
Seeing this, the once-relaxed Red-Haired Pirates immediately entered combat readiness as well, hands on their weapons, alert on all sides—showing not a shred of fear despite being deep in enemy territory.
After a brief silence, Whitebeard finally spoke.
"Do you have any idea what kind of nonsense you're spouting?"
"Precisely because I understand the consequences, I had to come," Shanks replied calmly, like a dedicated mediator.
"If it's just because of that minor friction over Fish-Man Island, there's no need for things to escalate this far with Wano."
"At the end of the day, the crisis on Fish-Man Island happened partly because the Flying Sky General interfered—"
Boom!
A dull, heavy impact rudely cut him off.
Whitebeard slammed the jug down beside him.
His control over his strength was absurd—the fragile ceramic jug didn't shatter, merely rolled across the deck, spilling a pool of fragrant sake.
"You can stand here and talk to me only because of your former captain's face," Whitebeard roared.
"But that doesn't mean you're qualified to tell me how to do things!"
A terrifying aura erupted from his body, crashing toward Shanks like a tidal wave.
Shanks didn't retreat an inch, releasing an equally overwhelming presence to meet it head-on.
Two terrifying waves of Conqueror's Haki collided violently in midair.
In that instant, the Moby Dick became the eye of a storm.
Time itself seemed to freeze.
Under the crushing pressure of the two auras, pirates with weak wills rolled their eyes back and collapsed in droves.
Only a handful of veteran crewmates managed to grit their teeth and endure—but even they were pale and trembling.
"That guy… he has Conqueror's Haki too?!"
The Whitebeard Pirates who remained conscious were utterly stunned.
What terrified them even more was that Shanks' Haki could contend with their father's for so long without falling behind!
Crack… crack…
The railings along both ships couldn't withstand the pressure and exploded apart, splinters flying everywhere—clear proof of how violent the clash was.
Whitebeard himself was slightly surprised.
He hadn't expected Shanks, so young, to have honed his Conqueror's Haki to this level.
But then he thought of Tenma—about the same age, yet even more terrifying—and it no longer seemed strange.
This vast sea had never lacked monsters.
But so what?
He, Whitebeard, had climbed to the top atop the corpses of countless monsters!
"Since you've awakened Conqueror's Haki, you should understand a king's rules," Whitebeard thundered.
"Some lines are not meant to be crossed—and above all, I am Whitebeard!"
Before the words had even finished echoing, Whitebeard drew the Supreme Grade Blade Murakumogiri from behind his back and brought it down on Shanks with thunderous force.
Shanks reacted instantly, drawing his famed blade Gryphon.
"If this continues, it'll usher in a runaway era no one can control!" he shouted grimly.
"That's something neither I nor the captain ever wanted to see!"
The instant the two peerless blades collided, their Haki erupted again, sending a visible shockwave blasting straight into the sky.
The terrifying aftershock became a howling gale, flinging unlucky pirates into the air like kites with snapped strings.
Seeing this, Third Division Commander Jozu roared,
"That damn Red-Hair—he actually dared to cross blades with Dad! Is he trying to start an all-out war with us?!"
Marco's face darkened.
"If that's the case, then no one's leaving this ship alive today!"
The division commanders all entered battle stance, glaring murderously at the Red-Haired Pirates, ready to tear into them at a moment's notice.
For the Red-Haired crew, the situation had become perilous in the extreme.
But in the very next moment, the violent pressure at the center of the deck suddenly vanished.
Like a sparring match that ended at first contact, the tall and short figures had already withdrawn their blades.
Whitebeard stood firm like an iron tower.
Shanks, however, looked far worse—dropping straight to the deck, though his eyes remained bright and resolute.
They locked gazes, their looks clashing like tangible swords in the air, sparks flying unseen.
"No matter what you decide, Whitebeard, I sincerely hope you'll consider my advice," Shanks said as he rose slowly, brushing dust from his clothes.
"I'm not asking you to abandon your grudges—it's just that the timing is wrong."
"The summit battle has already sent this era into a frenzy. If this keeps escalating, the New World will descend into total chaos, and no one will be able to see what the future holds."
"This kind of chaos—far beyond expectations—I don't know if Captain Roger would've wanted it. But one thing's certain: this rampage is coming far too early."
With the Conqueror's Haki having knocked out all irrelevant bystanders, Shanks dared to speak openly.
Ever since he placed his bet in that Windmill Village in the East Blue, it hadn't just been because Luffy ate the "Gum-Gum Fruit."
It was because he believed that boy was the future—
The prophesied Joy Boy, who would inherit the will of the straw hat and complete what Roger had left unfinished.
Before Luffy truly grew up and set sail, Shanks had to maintain the balance of the New World at all costs.
He couldn't allow the structure to collapse too soon.
Listening to Shanks, Whitebeard understood his meaning, even if he didn't say it aloud.
He spun Murakumogiri like a windmill, generating a fierce gust, then slammed the blade's shaft heavily into the deck.
"This fight—I'm not so senile as to turn it into an all-out war."
He stared at Shanks.
"But! No matter the reason, that bastard Tenma provoked me on territory I protect. This debt will never be settled so easily!"
Whitebeard had never pried the secrets of Laugh Tale from Roger, but judging by Roger's character and actions, he had a pretty good idea of things.
He supported the tide of the new era—whether for his own turbulent life or to protect the homeland he loved.
But even in the face of such lofty ideals, there was one thing that could never be ignored:
His dignity as Whitebeard, and the image he had to uphold as a father to his sons.
If he couldn't even deal with someone shitting on his head, how could the "Strongest Man in the World" protect his sons?
He'd become a laughingstock.
Hearing Whitebeard's stance, Shanks let out a helpless sigh.
Though he hadn't completely stopped the conflict between Whitebeard and Tenma, as long as it didn't turn into a fight to the death, the outcome was still acceptable.
If even a top-tier force like Whitebeard were to fall, the New World might end up dominated solely by Tenma—and that was Shanks' worst nightmare.
After one deep look at the stubborn Whitebeard, Shanks said nothing more and turned to leave.
At their level, once a decision was made, not even nine oxen could pull it back.
Further persuasion would be pointless.
Naturally, he didn't offer help either—bringing it up now might just earn him another beating. Better to watch from the sidelines and step in only if things truly spiraled out of control.
Just as Shanks prepared to descend the stairs with that thought in mind, he suddenly felt the light above dim.
The once-brilliant sunlight seemed to be blotted out by something enormous.
Instinctively, he looked up.
In the distant sky, colossal islands were floating—like titanic aerial beasts—slowly pressing toward them.
At that moment, every conscious person on the Moby Dick mirrored Shanks' movement.
The pirates who had been glaring at each other, the sharp-sensed commanders—all turned deathly pale, necks stiff as they stared upward.
It was truly a sight that blotted out the heavens.
What had been a cloudless blue sky instantly darkened, as though the end of the world had arrived.
"H–Hey… what the hell is that thing?"
"That shadow's huge… could it be some kind of super-giant bird?!"
The New World was full of bizarre phenomena, but this sight still terrified everyone.
Soon, sharp-eyed observers saw the truth and screamed in terror.
"N–No! That's not it—those are islands… flying in the sky!!!"
At those words, every heart skipped a beat.
In the world today, who else could lift islands into the air aside from the man whose bounty had surpassed their father's—the one hailed as the current number one—
The Flying Sky General, Tenma?!
"Floating islands—that's the Flying Sky General's Devil Fruit ability!"
"Dad! The enemy's here!"
…
High above, thousands of meters in the sky, clouds churned violently as a floating island the size of an island whale bore down on them, exuding suffocating pressure.
Some pirates' eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, cold sweat instantly soaking their backs.
The Moby Dick, a so-called giant warship, looked like a toy before such a monstrosity—not even one-tenth its size.
And there wasn't just one.
Behind it, countless islands formed a dense mass—an entire fleet of aerial islands.
For Tenma, the man known as both the "Flying Island Lord" and the "Land Builder," casually molding an uninhabited island into a projectile was laughably easy.
If one of those things came crashing down, it wouldn't be a joke.
Including the Moby Dick, every ship below would be smashed into paste and sent straight to the seabed.
"This… this isn't something a human can fight against!"
"Are you kidding me?! Using islands as weapons?!"
Pirates on the brink of mental collapse screamed in panic.
Some went limp and collapsed, others ran around like headless flies, desperately searching for an escape that didn't exist.
"Calm down! All of you—get a grip and stop embarrassing yourselves!"
Marco roared furiously at the chaos.
"They only brought a handful of people! We haven't seen a single Wano battleship—this doesn't look like an all-out war!"
"Captain Marco's right!"
With a veteran speaking up, some of the panic finally subsided.
Gathering their courage, they looked skyward again.
Just as Marco said—there were no sign of Wano's iconic steel warships.
It really didn't look like a full-scale invasion.
But—
The very next second!
Reality slapped Marco hard across the face.
As if responding to Tenma's command, one of the massive "island whales" broke formation.
Carrying apocalyptic momentum, it locked onto the Moby Dick below like a super-meteor.
As it plummeted, friction with the air generated blistering heat.
The entire island burst into roaring flames, accompanied by a soul-crushing howl of death as it smashed downward.
"THE ISLAND IS FALLING!!!"
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