The volcano was shattered by the simultaneous eruption of Ortoren's unmatched power and Newgate's tremor force.
As the mountain collapsed, the first thing everyone saw was a figure bursting out from the rolling dust and debris.
Tall and imposing—it was Whitebeard, without question.
But his condition was miserable. One arm hung at an unnatural angle, his chest visibly caved in, and it was obvious that several ribs had been broken. The captain's coat that once draped his back was gone, his golden hair a tangled mess coated in dust and mud. Fresh crimson stained the corner of his mouth, unmistakably blood.
The landslide caused by the collapse chased after Newgate, but it was slower than him. After sprinting more than a hundred meters, Newgate seemed to sense something. He pushed off the ground, leaping into the air, and with his less-injured arm, hurled a fierce punch backward.
The violent tremor tore through the space his fist passed.
Yet in the very next moment, Ortoren's figure smashed straight through the tremor force as if it didn't exist, closing the distance with unstoppable speed and lunging toward Whitebeard in midair.
This time, it wasn't just raw strength.
As Ortoren reached Whitebeard, his movement slowed ever so slightly, just enough for the spectators to finally catch his silhouette.
There was a brief pause.
Then his feral form flared with indigo lightning.
"Elbow Bolt!!!"
Ortoren roared as he drove his elbow straight into Newgate's waist.
Bang!
The lightning-infused force pierced straight through Newgate's body, surging in from his abdomen and erupting out his back. Even in the sky, the remaining power carved out a visible shockwave trail.
Whitebeard took the hit head-on. His eyes rolled back as if he'd lost consciousness for an instant, a massive spray of blood bursting from his mouth. The impact held him frozen in the air for a brief moment before he fell like a meteor, slamming violently into the heart of the pirate formation.
"Oyaji!"
Seeing Newgate crash down not far from them, Marco cried out in shock, anger, and fear.
He was the first to react, charging straight toward where Whitebeard had fallen.
It was pure bodily instinct. As for his thoughts… honestly, Marco's mind was completely blank. He couldn't comprehend it. His Oyaji, that powerful, reduced to this state, utterly unable to fight back against Ortoren.
Just how strong had that monster become?
Before Marco could even reach Newgate, he saw Ortoren in the air roll his arm once, his gaze lowering again as he searched through the dust for Whitebeard's position.
Moments later, Ortoren grinned like a predator that had spotted its prey. He stomped hard in midair—not using lightning, but Geppo.
With that step, his body carved a black streak through the sky, sonic booms and explosive air currents erupting behind him.
"Stop it, you bastard!"
Blue flames flared around Marco as he shot into the still-unsettled dust at full speed.
At this point, he no longer cared about his Oyaji's title as the strongest. The gap between them was already far beyond anything that could be overcome. All Marco wanted now was to save Whitebeard's life.
The moment Ortoren entered the dust cloud, he saw Marco standing directly in his path.
"An annoyance…"
Ortoren didn't spare him a second glance.
In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Marco. Marco had only just begun to raise his arm when a sharp pain exploded in his chest.
Looking down, he saw Ortoren's hands, transformed into vicious claws, had already pierced into his chest from both sides. The backs of Ortoren's hands pressed together, poised to tear outward.
"The more severe the injury, the more stamina it takes to recover," Ortoren sneered. "That's your Mythical Zoan ability, isn't it?"
Without giving Marco any chance to speak, Ortoren wrenched his arms outward.
Rip!
Marco's body was torn cleanly in half, split down the middle, before Ortoren casually tossed the remains to the ground like discarded trash.
At the same time, Newgate jolted awake from his brief unconsciousness. Just as he tried to rise, searing pain flooded his entire body, as if every bone had shattered, every muscle had melted away, and his internal organs had been violently crushed.
It was an unimaginably severe injury.
On the other side, Ortoren seemed irritated by the dust still hanging in the air. He frowned slightly, then swung his hand through the empty space in front of him.
Boom!
A violent blast of compressed air erupted outward, instantly sweeping away the lingering dust and smoke, erasing it completely.
Everyone could clearly see the situation now.
A massive crater scarred the ground, and Newgate, his entire body soaked in blood, struggled to climb out of it.
His condition was at its absolute worst. Just standing up nearly caused him to fall three times before he finally managed to steady himself.
The decay of his presence was unmistakable. There was no trace left of the aura of the strongest man. Instead, what he radiated was a bleak, tragic sense of reaching the end of the road.
Ortoren walked forward with measured, unhurried steps. After crushing a chunk of earth beneath his foot, he stopped a little over ten meters in front of Newgate.
A hint of regret surfaced in his eyes as he spoke softly.
"Is this as far as you go, Whitebeard?"
What Ortoren felt was dissatisfaction. Even Whitebeard, the strongest man in the world, failed to satisfy him in this ultimate state.
In front of the worldwide broadcast, Ortoren showed no outward strain.
Yet in reality, this Mink Tribe Sulong form placed tremendous pressure on his body. His original height of just over three meters had expanded to more than five. From his physique alone, it was clear how terrifying the burden on his body had become.
In the original story, Sulong was already an extremely taxing transformation for the Mink Tribe, something most could only maintain briefly.
For Ortoren, it was no different.
This extreme state, this power that reached the so-called other shore, was something he had only mastered relatively recently. At present, he could maintain it for no more than twenty minutes. Perhaps with continued refinement and training, that time could be extended.
As always, despite having reached the peak of strength, his age and physical condition meant he still had room to grow.
A sharp crack of thunder rang out as Ortoren slowly raised a single finger.
Not far away, Newgate, his vision already blurred, saw this. He forced himself to wipe the blood obscuring his eyes. As if sensing his own end, he still dragged his lips into a strained smile.
"I recognize that move… Hell Stab: Ippon Nukite, right?"
"That's right." Ortoren nodded gently. "Didn't we agree when we last parted? I would use this ultimate strike to send you on your way, and ascend the throne of the strongest."
He gathered all of his strength, along with his lightning power, into the fingertip of his right hand.
Standing in place, Ortoren gave Newgate one final moment to feel the world around him before asking calmly,
"Are you ready to face death, Whitebeard?"
Newgate had already adjusted his posture. His body, which had been hunched by injury, straightened once more.
He faced Ortoren head-on, dignified and unflinching.
He said nothing. Perhaps he no longer had the strength to speak. Simply holding his chest high and preserving this final shred of pride had already drained every last bit of his energy.
Ortoren seemed to read this in his eyes. He let out a soft sigh.
"It's over…"
The instant those words fell, Ortoren pushed off the ground and surged forward. Lightning blazed at his fingertip as it pierced straight into Newgate's heart.
In the next moment, a blinding pillar of lightning, no thicker than a finger, punched through Newgate's towering body, transforming into a thousand-meter streak of light that shot into the sky and vanished beyond the edge of the world.
"This technique moves forward as one, without retreat!"
After a brief pause, Ortoren withdrew his finger from Newgate's chest. With a casual flick of his hand, he scattered the blood from his fingertip onto the ground.
Thus fell the last remnant of the old era.
The new era had no ship left to carry them.
...
At the same time, in the Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Within Pangaea Castle, in the Chamber of Authority.
The Five Elders exchanged glances. Saint Nusjuro glanced around, pressed a hand to his lips, and gave an awkward cough.
"Ahem… regarding the matter of immediately transferring Ortoren after the war, I believe we shouldn't be too forceful. After all, Ortoren is a fine Admiral of our World Government. Any matters should be discussed properly."
As soon as he finished speaking, the other Five Elders nodded in agreement.
Yes, yes. Ortoren was loyal, righteous, and brave. Matters concerning him should be handled through discussion, lest the heart of such a fierce warrior be chilled. If conflict arose later, it would hardly be a good look.
It was absolutely not because Ortoren's displayed strength had left them at a loss.
It was because they trusted Ortoren's loyalty.