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Staring at the bounty poster in his hand, the man, built like a small giant, twitched the crescent-shaped white mustache on his lip and let out a low, rumbling chuckle.
"How interesting... Just after Roger's death, a kid like this appears."
He suddenly rose to his feet, his towering frame three or four times the height of a normal man. Standing there, he was like a living mountain. Even Jason, who had an impressively strong build, would look like a child in comparison.
"Oyaji... he looks a lot like Roger," A nearby crew member said cautiously. "Could this bounty be some kind of trap from the Marines?"
Whitebeard's eyes gleamed. "Marco, look closely at his face!"
With a sharp glare, Whitebeard gripped his naginata and slammed it down onto the deck with a deafening hōng lóng lóng, the sound of raw power. The entire ship trembled under the impact, and many of the crew staggered, barely staying on their feet.
Marco was startled but obediently looked again at the poster in his hand.
The young man in the photo was strikingly handsome, his features undeniably reminiscent of Roger. At first glance, it was easy to mistake him for a relative. But upon a second look, Marco noticed something else, his eyes.
Unlike Roger's bold and forthright gaze, this man's eyes were deep and restrained, filled with a quiet, unreadable intensity. If Roger was a king charging at the front lines, this man looked more like a commander behind the scenes, strategic, composed, and dangerous in his own way.
The eyes are the windows to the soul.
Marco had been around long enough to judge people well, and he rarely misjudged character.
"This man... he's nothing like Roger," Marco muttered. "He's clever. You can see it in his gaze. He's the kind of guy who doesn't play by the rules."
Whitebeard nodded solemnly, his voice like distant thunder.
"A man with eyes like those won't be caged by the Marines. His calm hides a storm beneath. He's someone born to sail the seas."
"A wild one like this? He's not theirs. He belongs to the ocean, like us."
"In that way... yes, he's very much like Roger. In his eyes, I see an endless, unfathomable sea."
He paused, then added with certainty, "This kid will shake the world one day."
"Just wait and see, boys."
Onboard The Moby Dick, the Whitebeard Pirates exchanged looks of shock. They hadn't expected their captain to speak so highly of a man he'd never met, based solely on a poster.
"But his identity…" Whitebeard muttered, eyes narrowing. He'd never heard of Roger having any blood relatives, much less a son.
Just then, a crew member ran over in a panic.
"Bad news! Golden Lion's crew is headed this way!"
Marco's expression turned cold. He stepped in front of the frightened man and snapped, "Calm down. It's just the Golden Lion."
He then turned his gaze toward the horizon.
Far ahead, a massive floating island loomed, drifting slowly toward them, hovering 20 to 30 meters above the sea. Its propellers, mounted below, spun like enormous wings, keeping the island airborne.
The panicked crewman was likely new to the Whitebeard Pirates. This was probably his first time seeing another pirate crew that could rival them in strength and reputation. He trembled uncontrollably, eyes wide with fear.
After all, a crew like the Golden Lion's held vast sway across the New World, inspiring dread and awe wherever they went.
Marco didn't blame him, but he still had a duty to remind the man of who they were.
"Stand tall. Remember, we're the Whitebeard Pirates."
The new recruit flushed with embarrassment and quickly stepped back. But the fear in his eyes didn't vanish. Not right away.
Some shadows of dread ran deep.
As the floating island drew nearer, the atmosphere aboard The Moby Dick grew tense. Two legendary crews now faced each other across the sea.
The pressure in the air felt thick enough to choke.
Fifteen minutes passed.
The floating island came to a stop roughly a hundred meters from the Whitebeard Pirates' flagship. Under the sharp watch of the crew, a small boat detached from the island and gently descended to the sea, gliding like a falling leaf.
Three minutes later, Marco stood at the bow, watching as the boat approached.
Several members of the Golden Lion Pirates were aboard, their expressions hard and unreadable. Cold eyes locked onto the ship.
"Whitebeard Pirates, your captain, is he aboard?"
The boat stopped about thirty meters away. A man in a sleek black suit, with a neatly trimmed beard and stern demeanor, shouted across the water.
His presence was commanding, and the moment he spoke, the tension between both crews intensified.
Before Marco could respond, Whitebeard stepped forward.
His massive form cast a shadow across the deck.
"Who's this nobody, daring to speak on behalf of the Golden Lion?"
His deep voice echoed over the waves, his presence like a mountain pressing down on the sea.
Since Roger's death, Whitebeard had become the undisputed symbol of strength in the world.
Even though the envoy from the Golden Lion crew was clearly a high-ranking officer, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine under Whitebeard's gaze.
"Our captain, "
He tried to speak, but Whitebeard cut him off coldly.
"Get lost!"
The words slammed into the air like cannon fire.
But the envoy held firm. "Our captain plans to launch an attack on the Marines," he said, voice steady despite the pressure. "He sent us to ask, do you want to join him in this operation?"
The man in the black suit spoke with urgency. He had to deliver the message, failure wasn't an option. If he returned empty-handed, who knew what kind of punishment the Golden Lion would unleash on him?
"I said, get lost!" Whitebeard's voice thundered across the sea. "Tell the Golden Lion to come here himself. You? You're just a nobody. You're not even qualified to speak to me!"
His words cut through the air like blades, and his expression turned colder than the ocean's depths. Without another warning, Whitebeard clenched his massive fist, and swung it forward.
There was a strange kā cā sound, like space itself cracking. The void before him seemed to fracture, invisible yet immense.
Then,
The sea in front of The Moby Dick suddenly tilted.
The ocean split.
On one side, the water surged upward like a rising wall. On the other, it plunged downward into a deep trench. Seawater from the high side came crashing down in torrents toward the low point, right where the man in the black suit and his companions were standing.
Huā lā lā!
The roaring cascade of water formed a towering tsunami in the blink of an eye.
"Run!"
A panicked scream pierced the air, followed by a wave of terrified shouting from the small boat.
Before this overwhelming force of nature, they were helpless. Insignificant.
Even the massive floating island above didn't dare intervene. It began to retreat, engines whirring frantically as it turned to flee, abandoning the crew below without a second thought.
They had stirred the wrath of Whitebeard.
And the sea itself responded.
(End of Chapter)