After hearing Lucian's suggestion—
Whitebeard gulped down the last of his sake and stood up with a mighty motion.
"Gurararara… Good!"
"If we're just sitting around, I might as well come see the peak battle between those two Navy brats myself!"
"I've wanted to witness a clash between those two for a while now! After all, it's a showdown between top-tier Logia users—it's bound to be a dragon-versus-tiger brawl!"
He paused, lowering his voice, his tone becoming a little more mischievous.
"And besides…" Whitebeard chuckled, "I really want to see what kind of face that old bastard Garp makes… when he sees two of his Navy Admirals tearing each other apart for the Fleet Admiral's seat! Gurararara…"
His laughter was full of gleeful schadenfreude.
A few days later.
Ten thousand meters beneath the sea, beneath Fish-Man Island.
A massive ship wrapped in a perfect bubble coating glided silently through the strange and surreal depths.
It wasn't the Moby Dick, but a smaller version—clearly designed for stealth.
On the deck stood only two men.
Whitebeard, Edward Newgate, the former tyrant of the seas, sat calmly with a sake jar larger than a human head before him, gulping it down with thunderous presence.
Lucian leaned against the rail.
His gaze pierced the depths beyond the bubble, staring far into the murky darkness—toward an island soon to become a frozen inferno.
The celebration was over.
The Whitebeard Pirates had settled down.
For discretion's sake, Lucian brought no division commanders—only Whitebeard joined him on this journey.
Silence.
"Gurararara…"
Whitebeard put down the jar. His iconic laugh boomed inside the bubble, laced with amusement.
"Come to think of it, Akainu and Aokiji are some of the Navy's top brass."
"One can burn an island to ash, the other can freeze the sea itself. In terms of destructive power, even among former Admirals, they're top-tier monsters."
Having battled the Navy for decades, Whitebeard knew better than anyone how strong Admirals could be.
Magma-Magma Fruit.
Ice-Ice Fruit.
Pure destruction.
Once they went all out, they were walking cataclysms.
When two such monsters fought to the death, the result would be a disaster of unimaginable scale.
Lucian withdrew his gaze from the deep sea, turned around, and leaned against the rail, a faint smile on his face.
"Pops, you're right—they are monsters."
He paused.
"But they're also monsters… who've gone down the wrong paths."
"Oh?" Whitebeard raised a brow, intrigued, and gestured for Lucian to continue.
Lucian sat down across from him, poured himself a bowl of sake from the massive jug, and began to speak calmly.
"Their 'justice'... couldn't be more different. In fact, they conflict."
"Akainu, Sakazuki, believes in 'absolute justice.'"
"To maintain its image, he'll sacrifice anything—including the very civilians he's supposed to protect."
"In his world, anything that even hints at 'evil' must be uprooted—
Even if that means burning the entire forest to kill one weed.
His justice is fierce, pure—but also cold, ruthless, and frankly… barbaric."
"The refugee ship at Ohara is the best evidence of that justice."
Lucian's voice was flat—without emotion.
Whitebeard's expression hardened. His gaze turned sharp.
He'd heard of the Ohara incident.
Lucian's summary was cutting and exact.
The Navy had used the excuse of a Buster Call to wipe a scholarly island off the map—
And hadn't even spared a ship full of civilians.
To Whitebeard, there was no difference between that and the cruelty of the worst pirates.
"And then there's Aokiji, Kuzan…"
Lucian continued.
"On the surface, he seems indifferent—always riding a bike across the ocean, slacking off."
"But deep down, he has a clear bottom line."
"He understands the Navy's role is to protect the weak—
Not to serve some high-and-mighty authority."
"That's why he let Nico Robin go.
Why he dares question the Navy's orders when it matters."
"His justice has warmth.
It's hesitant, conflicted… more human."
"Deep in his bones, he's always wondered whether the justice the Navy enforces… is really justice at all."
Lucian downed his sake in one gulp.
"One pulls left.
The other right."
"Their sense of justice is diametrically opposed—like ice and fire, destined never to coexist."
"This duel… isn't just a fight for the title of Fleet Admiral."
"It's the ultimate clash between two visions of 'justice.'"
"And whoever wins… will determine the Navy's future path."
Whitebeard said nothing for a long time.
He wasn't just bold—he wasn't stupid.
He'd ruled the seas for decades, and was a symbol of an entire era.
His insight and wisdom far surpassed most men.
Lucian's words made something that had always been vague in his mind—clear.
The Navy had never been unified.
"But," Lucian's voice rose again—this time laced with faint mockery—
"Whether it's Akainu's 'absolute justice,' or Aokiji's 'lazy justice'—
They both share a fatal flaw."
"They serve the wrong master."
That line hit Whitebeard like a bolt of lightning.
"The highest authority of the Navy is the Fleet Admiral—
But even he answers to the World Government.
And the World Government… answers to those garbage Celestial Dragons perched atop Mariejois."
Lucian's smile sharpened.
"To fight for trash who treat human lives like dirt…
To uphold a system that's rotten to its core…
In that light, any form of 'pure justice' becomes warped.
Becomes a joke."
"Akainu's 'absolute justice' becomes nothing more than a blade to eliminate political enemies for the Celestial Dragons.
And Aokiji's 'lazy justice'—in this kind of system—does nothing but make him more confused, more miserable."
"They're like two beasts shackled to a millstone—
No matter which direction they pull, they end up grinding the same bloody grain for the ones holding the leash."
Every word hit like a hammer.
Their battle—
Had already been decided.
A butcher serving tyrants
versus
a lost soul clinging to a dying conscience.
It was obvious.
"Akainu will win."
"Aokiji… will lose."
Whitebeard fell silent.
He recalled the innocent races persecuted by the Celestial Dragons.
Lucian's words were a knife, cutting into the Navy's darkest, rotting core.
"Gurararara… well said! Truly well said!"
He looked up, locking eyes with Lucian.
The laughter and levity were gone.
Only sharp, piercing perception remained.
"So…"
He stared into Lucian's eyes—those seasoned eyes seeing through everything.
"This trip of yours…
isn't just about watching a good show, is it?"
The air tensed.
Lucian met that gaze—the one that saw straight into a man's soul.
The calm on his face faded.
In its place—
A sly, meaningful smile.
He didn't answer directly.
Instead, he leaned forward, lifted his sake, and lowered his voice—
As if sharing the world's greatest secret.
"Pops…"
He slowly asked, each word a hook:
"If a man loses everything..."
"Becomes disillusioned with the justice he devoted his life to…"
"And begins to loathe this rotten world—"
"Wouldn't he… maybe… start looking for a brand-new path?"
With that—
Lucian's smirk widened.
Whitebeard's massive body jerked.
He stared at the scheming, cunning grin on Lucian's face—
Eyes suddenly contracting.
The smile on his lips slowly froze.
Then—
A deeper, more profound look of shock and realization emerged.
He understood.
He fully understood what Lucian was really after.
This kid…
He wasn't just there to watch.
He was—