The division commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates wore grim expressions.
That burst of Conqueror's Haki left a bad taste in everyone's mouth.
To them, Ray's Conqueror's Haki felt strange and sinister. Beyond the imposing pressure of a King, it also carried a peculiar corrosive effect on the mind.
Simultaneously, their dissatisfaction with Ray hit the breaking point.
"You arrogant bastard!"
Jozu, the commander of the Third Division, snapped.
He immediately activated his Devil Fruit, turning his massive body into diamond, and charged toward Ray like a runaway tank.
BOOM!
But Ray simply watched him coldly.
He didn't even twitch a muscle to fight back.
Just as Jozu's fist was inches from smashing Ray's face, a claw wreathed in blue flames intercepted the attack.
WHAM!
It was Marco.
The moment Jozu launched his assault, Marco had shifted into his Phoenix form to stop him.
After kicking Jozu away, Marco stood before Ray.
He bowed slightly, looking exhausted.
"Sorry about that. That brother of mine isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box. I apologize on his behalf."
Then, Marco turned his sleepy eyes toward the other division commanders, his voice dropping to a dangerous chill.
"Who the hell recruited those two idiots who provoked Ray earlier? They called me 'Commander,' but I've never seen their faces before."
Silence fell over the deck.
After a moment, Marco stared sternly at the few pirates still conscious.
"Is the Moby Dick a ship that just any random stray can board?"
Hearing Marco's words, the other commanders finally realized what had actually happened.
None of them recognized those two guys either.
"Suspicious..."
Izo, the 16th Division Commander, grabbed his flintlocks and strode toward the two unconscious "young pirates" lying on the shattered deck.
He intended to drag them to the interrogation room and beat some answers out of them personally.
But just then—
ZIP!
The two "unconscious" pirates suddenly moved.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the deck and leaped over the ship's railing.
Judging by that footwork...
"That was Soru! The Marine technique!"
The commanders were instantly enraged!
"Marines?! On our ship?!"
For a moment, they didn't care how these rats got on board, their sole focus was catching them and ripping them apart!
But after vaulting over the railing, the pair began kicking off the air itself, swiftly putting at least 200 meters between themselves and the Moby Dick in seconds.
"Geppo?!"
"Damn it! They're elite Marine agents! We might not be able to catch them!"
The commanders cursed loudly.
Though all of them were monsters in a fight, none of them could fly. Aside from Marco, they were stuck on the ship and could only watch these spies escape.
They felt furious and humiliated!
If those bastards were on solid ground, they would be dead meat.
But if they let these two rats scurry back to the Marines with intel, the Whitebeard Pirates' reputation would be in the mud.
While the other commanders were fuming, Marco was even more acutely aware of the shame.
Especially since they had a "guest" watching—Ray.
"What a mess..."
With this in mind, Marco flared his blue wings again, preparing to chase them down.
However, the moment he took flight, two other people moved simultaneously.
BOOM!
SLASH!
A shockwave and a green blade of energy.
The two spies, frantically using Geppo to escape, were caught completely off guard.
Whitebeard had punched the air.
His long-range shockwave hit the first spy, vibrating through his body and shattering his internal organs instantly.
Ray had swung his sword.
An energy slash severed the other spy, cutting him clean in half.
SPLASH!
As the two broken bodies were about to plummet into the sea, Marco swooped down.
He grabbed the barely-alive pair with his talons and hauled them back to the ship.
"Get the ship's doctor! Don't let these rats die yet!" Marco barked as he tossed them toward the interrogation room.
"We need to know who sent them."
After all, those who could use Geppo and Soru weren't necessarily regular Marines.
Cipher Pol, maybe?
...
In that brief span of less than a minute, a lot had happened.
Ray had tested the perceptiveness of Marco, the Whitebeard Pirates' strategist.
He had also engaged in a bloodless contest with Whitebeard—a test of reaction speed and precision.
The term "bloodless" referred to their own sides, of course.
The spies were definitely bleeding.
Aside from his crew, Ray felt that the weak and foolish were unworthy of collaboration.
But Whitebeard and his right-hand man? They passed the test.
Whitebeard, in turn, had assessed Ray's attitude.
'This kid was sharp.'
Through this incident, both found the other satisfactory.
"Alright," Marco sighed, landing back on deck. "Let's talk."
...
Ten minutes later.
Cavendish stood before Whitebeard and the assembled division commanders.
A rose was clenched between his teeth, and his expression was animated as he spoke eloquently, explaining the situation.
Unfortunately, since this was the flagship of the legendary Whitebeard Pirates, Frieda, who had come aboard, was shaking in her boots.
She dared not press the shutter for a covert photo... even though her journalist fingers were twitching uncontrollably.
'Must... not... take... photo...'
Without explicit permission from Ray and Whitebeard, Frieda knew better than to act recklessly.
Otherwise, her life would be forfeit.
Keeping company with Emperors was like trying to pet a tiger—let alone having two such monsters standing next to each other.
Even if her uncle Morgans were here, he'd be sweating buckets.
Frieda felt deeply grateful at this moment for her uncle's strict training on how to survive in high society.
Otherwise, she would surely have been fish food by now!
...
As Cavendish delivered his impassioned speech, the atmosphere on the deck grew heavy.
All the division commanders held their breath.
Even Whitebeard himself grew increasingly solemn.
His face darkened, and a trace of anger mixed into his expression.
The strong reaction wasn't because Cavendish's speech was particularly poetic.
It was because the content was grave!
"Ace has been captured."
The commanders froze.
They were all worried sick about their brother.
Whitebeard's solemnity came from his clear understanding of the war to come.
He knew exactly how powerful the World Government was.
This would require careful planning, or his family would be wiped out.
As for the anger? It stemmed from Ray's offer.
'This kid... is he looking down on me for being old? Does he think I'm so weak I need his pity to heal me?'
He was Whitebeard, the strongest man in the world!
How could a mere Rookie looking down on him?
But he didn't lash out at Ray.
He swallowed his pride because he understood the reality: If his illness disappeared, it would definitely be more beneficial for saving Ace.
The better his condition, the higher the chances of his sons surviving the war.
He was indeed old, but he wasn't a senile fool who would fly into a rage over his ego.
In Whitebeard's heart, family was always the most important thing.
Whether it was Ace, Marco, Jozu, Vista... or those nameless pirates swabbing the deck.
As long as they called him "Pops," he had to hold up a large umbrella to shelter them from the wind and rain.
So why did they have to attack Marine Headquarters? Why risk the lives of his other children just to save Ace?
Because if a family chose to abandon a child for "maximum benefit" or "safety," how could the other children ever feel secure?
What kind of father would he be?
This was the code of the Whitebeard Pirates—Leave No One Behind!
As for why he had fallen out with Shanks but didn't argue with Ray?
It was because their advice was different.
Shanks wanted him to retreat.
He wanted him to call Ace back and stop pursuing Blackbeard.
If he listened to Shanks, it would violate the family rules.
His children would lose faith in him. He would gain a reputation as a coward who was afraid of trouble.
But Ray?
Ray looked him in the eye and said.
"Fix your body. Get back to your prime. And then go smash the Marines to save Ace."
First, it didn't interfere with his family affairs.
Second, it preserved his dignity as a warrior.
No retreat and face the problems head-on!
This aligned perfectly with Whitebeard's philosophy.
So, Whitebeard grunted.
RIP!
He grabbed the thick IV needles stuck in his arm and chest and ripped them out.
Blood trickled down from his chest, but he didn't flinch.
He slowly stood up, towering over everyone, and looked seriously at Ray.
"Kid... I'll entrust my body to you."
"Do it."
Whitebeard didn't believe a man like Ray would lie about something this serious.
Since he said he could immediately cure his illness, he definitely could.
Ray naturally appreciated Whitebeard's straightforward nature.
SHING!
He drew the sword at his waist again, switching it to the healing sword Tenseiga.
The division commanders flinched and their hands twitching toward their weapons again.
'Wasn't this supposed to be treatment?! Why is he drawing a sword again?!'
'Is he gonna stab Pops?! Is it some kind of bloodletting therapy?!'
But since their Pops had chosen to trust Ray, they forced themselves to stay still.
They wouldn't do anything disrespectful—but they watched Ray like hawks!
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