"Pops…"
"Pops, what are you saying? What do you mean by final order?!"
"Don't say such unlucky things!"
"We're all going back to the New World together!"
"That's right—if we leave, we leave together, Pops!"
The Whitebeard Pirates erupted in protest, their voices filled with fear and defiance.
Ace, who had already reached the edge of Crescent Bay, heard Whitebeard's words and instinctively turned back. His chest tightened with emotions too tangled to name.
"Pops…" he shouted hoarsely.
Whitebeard raised his blade once more and declared with thunderous finality,
"My sons—this is where our paths part. All of you must live on. Return to the New World."
"Why, Pops?!"
"Come back with us!"
The cries echoed across the battlefield.
"So you've accepted your death, Whitebeard…" Akainu snarled, launching himself forward with a magma-coated punch.
Whitebeard met it head-on, his own fist colliding with Akainu's as he roared, his voice shaking Marineford itself:
"I am a relic of the old era. The new era has no ship capable of carrying me!"
The resulting shockwave blasted Akainu backward dozens of steps. For the first time in his career, Akainu lost a contest of pure power. His eyes widened slightly as he muttered darkly,
"So this is it… Whitebeard is truly fighting with everything he has."
"Terrifying…" Kizaru remarked, his usual flippancy restrained. "An enemy who's prepared to die is the most dangerous kind."
Akainu's expression hardened. Even he understood the danger of facing a dying man's final blaze, yet his resolve did not waver.
"Hmph. No matter what, he dies here today."
Whitebeard coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips. He glanced once more at Ace and Marco in the distance—his sons, still alive.
And yet… he said nothing.
He did not name a successor.
Years ago, age and illness had already begun to erode his body. Long before Marineford, Whitebeard had contemplated who would shoulder the burden of the Whitebeard Pirates after his death.
Though a pirate by name, he had always been a father at heart. The Whitebeard Pirates were never bound by profit or ambition—they were a family, forged by bonds stronger than blood. Naturally, he wished for that family to endure, generation after generation.
That was why he had gradually entrusted more authority to captains like Marco, Vista, and Jozu, quietly observing, weighing their hearts and resolve.
Among them, Marco stood out.
His strength, judgment, and composure were unmatched among Whitebeard's sons. Though he lacked the overwhelming dominance of the other Four Emperors, Marco was unquestionably exceptional. And with the unity of the crew, even without Whitebeard, the Whitebeard Pirates would still stand proudly among the Four Emperors.
Had fate allowed it, Whitebeard would have chosen Marco as his successor a hundred times over.
But then Ace arrived.
Ace's fire, his will, his lineage—everything about him reshaped Whitebeard's thinking. Marco was a perfect right hand, a first mate born to support. Ace, however, carried the spark of a king. Whitebeard believed Ace could one day stand at the very summit of the seas—as Pirate King.
Thus, in Whitebeard's heart, Ace became the future captain, with Marco standing beside him.
And now…
Marco, too, had awakened the qualities of a king.
That realization stirred rare hesitation in Whitebeard's heart.
Yet this was neither the time nor the place to choose. The Whitebeard Pirates were still surrounded by enemies, and to name a successor now—Marco or Ace—would only paint a target on their backs.
So Whitebeard swallowed the words he never spoke.
And instead, he chose to stand alone.
'You must all live… and return to the New World.'
That was the only prayer Whitebeard could offer his sons in silence.
He believed that even without his hand choosing a successor, his children would find their own path once they returned to the New World. Whether it was Marco, Ace, or another among them, someone would surely rise—strong enough to shoulder the future and protect the family he left behind.
"Come at me, Marines!" Whitebeard bellowed, hurling another tremor-infused punch.
This shockwave was fiercer than any before. Cracks splintered through the air itself, and moments later, the sea began to convulse. Marineford—and even the distant ocean—tilted violently, the entire world slanting at a terrifying angle, as if on the brink of collapse.
"Pops…"
Vista's vision blurred with tears as he watched Whitebeard face Akainu and Kizaru alone. Just moments ago, it had taken four commanders working together to barely restrain Akainu. Now Pops stood against two Admirals by himself.
There was no misunderstanding it.
Whitebeard was trading his life for time.
"Hurry and go!" Namur roared. "We can't let Pops's sacrifice be wasted!"
Marco stared at Whitebeard's towering back, his chest heavy with emotions he couldn't untangle. He was a transmigrator—he hadn't spent decades under Whitebeard's banner. And yet… why did his heart ache this much?
Was it because he had inherited the original Marco's memories?
Or because Whitebeard's love, genuine and unquestioning, had already become his own?
More than grief, Marco felt hatred—hatred toward his own weakness.
He had known the plot. He had tried to change fate. And yet, here it was again: Whitebeard standing alone, choosing death so his sons could live.
Marco understood the cruel truth. Without Whitebeard holding the line, there was no escaping the Admirals' pursuit. Pops knew it too. That was why he stayed behind—why he chose to die here, buying a future for his family.
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard laughed thunderously, brimming with battle lust.
"Come on, magma brat! Flash brat! I'm right here! If you've got the guts, come and take my head!"
Murakumogiri slammed into the shattered ground as Whitebeard stood tall, a god of war facing Akainu, Kizaru, and the massed Marines behind them.
His voice rang out like a decree of judgment:
"Don't chase my sons. Don't even think about it. Otherwise, I'll drag this entire island down into the sea with me!"
"Then we'll kill you right here," Akainu snarled, his arm morphing into a massive magma hound.
"Inugami Guren—!"
Whitebeard's muscles swelled, shockwaves rippling across both fists as he roared back,
"Come, Marines! Today, I'll show you the strongest power in the world!"
Clang—!
With his sons gone from the plaza, Whitebeard no longer held back.
What remained was simple.
He would sink Marineford—and everyone still standing on it.
Earthquakes, magma, and blinding flashes of light tore through the plaza, turning it into a vision of hell. The violent tremors caused the Marine's Justice Tower to crack, then crumble, as the world itself seemed to scream under Whitebeard's wrath.
The old era's final stand had begun.
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