"How long do you intend to stop us?" Whitebeard asked Zephyr, voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"I won't allow you to pass for at least three or four days," Zephyr answered sternly, the cloak of Marine Justice draped firmly over his shoulders.
"Then let's fight."
Being blocked without lifting a hand was not Whitebeard's style, nor was it the style of his crew. If the Marines dared to stand in their way, then the Marines would pay the price.
Zephyr exhaled. The clash could no longer be avoided. But fear was not in him—he had already prepared himself for this. To prevent Whitebeard's fleet from interfering in the legendary battle between Roger and Golden Lion Shiki, sacrifices were to be expected.
"Gurararara! Seems I won't be able to witness Roger and Shiki's duel," Whitebeard said with faint regret. "Then you lot can take my first strike instead."
Setting aside his massive bisento, Whitebeard let his hands shine with a pure white aura as vibration power condensed in his fists. Even before his punch landed, the atmosphere itself began trembling and vibrating from the pressure.
His knees bent slightly, veins bulging across his massive arms.
Zephyr's expression grew taut. "Quickly, spread out the warships!" he shouted.
But it was already too late. Whitebeard grinned.
Crack! Crack!
The air shattered like glass, fissures spreading across the sky. Color drained from the heavens, waves froze mid-motion, and even space itself seemed to split apart. Then the force exploded outward, tearing toward the Marine fleet.
"Damn it!" Zephyr roared. His body blurred, slamming down into the steel deck and propelling him skyward in an instant. His fists, coated in Armament Haki, glowed with power. "Six Powers Secret Art—Rokuogan: Maximum Wheel!"
A shockwave roared from his hands, colliding with Whitebeard's quake.
The violent impact blasted Zephyr back, sending him skidding through the air before he caught himself with Moonwalk. He panted heavily, body aching, but he had endured it.
"All warships, disperse! Go around the Moby Dick and attack from behind—this is an order!" Zephyr bellowed grimly.
"Hahaha! Marines, I'll crush you all here! Sons, hold them back!" Whitebeard laughed, hammering another quake-filled punch toward Zephyr.
The sea began to tremble ominously. Something catastrophic was brewing.
On one of the Marine warships, Teach fought shoulder to shoulder with his small crew.
Nearly a year had passed since Oden left the Whitebeard Pirates to sail with Roger. In that year, Teach and his companions—Mobius, Voss, and Peto had grown frighteningly strong.
Mobius swung his Night God Blade in a dazzling arc, cutting down two Marines at once.
Voss, no longer scrawny but lean and sharp-eyed, moved like a phantom. Each flicker of his figure left behind fallen Marines, blood dripping from his blade.
Peto's claws sparked faintly with lightning as she ripped through Marines' chests with feral precision.
Teach himself faced off against the warship's commander, a Rear Admiral.
"You—you're Black Gun! Justice will not lose!" the officer shouted, hurling himself forward with the Marine Six Powers. His eyes burned as they locked onto the pistol at Teach's waist—the weapon that had earned the pirate his nickname.
Not far away, Mobius chuckled as he bisected another opponent. "Heh. That guy's finished."
Voss smirked faintly, then vanished, reappearing with his blade buried in a Marine's throat.
Teach's expression twisted with irritation. His bounty, forty million, was already insulting enough, but the Marines had dubbed him "Black Gun." Worse still, his wanted poster was nothing more than a crude sketch of a faceless gunman. His own crewmates had mocked him over it.
He wanted nothing more than to strangle the idiot who named him and whoever had drawn the poster.
The Rear Admiral lunged with another attack—only to find Teach had disappeared. Pain erupted in his gut as a crushing kick drove him backward. Then a clawed hand seized his throat.
"You've angered me," Teach sneered.
Crack!
The officer's neck snapped. His body went limp, eyes wide with terror. How could a man with only a forty-million bounty have this much strength? He never got to finish the thought.
With their commander dead, the ship's Marines broke. Morale collapsed, and the Whitebeard Pirates pressed their advantage.
Teach's squad had sharpened their skills with the Marine Six Powers. Mobius had mastered Soru and Rankyaku, dabbling in Shigan. Voss combined Soru with Kami-e into a lethal assassin's rhythm. Peto, aided by her Devil Fruit, had picked up Soru and Shigan at remarkable speed.
Teach himself had focused on Soru, Kami-e, Shigan, and Geppo—using only what suited him.
It wasn't long before the warship fell completely into their hands.
"Who knows how to sail this thing?" Teach barked.
"I do, Teach!" one pirate shouted, hand raised.
"Good. Shell the other ships, then ram this one into them." A cruel grin spread across Teach's face.
Cannon fire erupted. Boom! Boom! Shells slammed into another Marine vessel, tearing its deck apart.
"Occupied… the Whitebeard Pirates have taken that warship!" a lookout screamed.
Panic rippled through the fleet. The warships began firing at each other, sown into confusion by Teach's scheme.
Then the sea itself cracked.
The ocean split open into endless abysses, while titanic tsunamis—ten thousand meters high—rose like walls of doom, devouring everything in their path.
"Newgate, you bastard!" Zephyr roared. One warship teetered over the abyss. Veins bulging, he stomped across the air with Geppo and planted both hands against the ship's hull, straining to push it back.
"Ahhh!" His muscles tore, blood soaking his uniform, but he forced the vessel upward, alone against the abyss.
"Admiral Zephyr!" the Marines cried, tears streaming as their commander sacrificed himself for them.
Whitebeard's quake had done more than tear the sea—it had stoked the birth of a super storm.
"Pops," Teach said, stepping to Whitebeard's side, "the vapor's condensing fast. That storm will only get worse. Shiki's fleet and Roger's crew will both be swallowed whole. If that happens, the New World plunges into chaos, and the Marines will seize the chance. And don't forget—Oden is still there."
Whitebeard frowned, but nodded. His Observation Haki confirmed the truth. Oden, his sworn brother and family, was inside. That was enough.
He thrust his quake-coated hands into the atmosphere, ripping it apart once again. Clouds above shifted, dragging the storm across the sky. With a slam of his Murakumogiri into the deck, tremors rippled into the sea, redirecting the currents.
Slowly, the storm veered toward the Marine fleet. The battlefield of Roger and Shiki shifted to its edge.
Zephyr's expression twisted as realization struck. He could do nothing to stop it—the storm was already moving.
On the battlefield, Rhein—the Golden Lion's left hand and master of air currents, extended his Observation Haki. His senses flowed with the winds.
"Stop the fighting! The Marines are here—Sengoku, Garp, Tsuru, and more!" His voice carried on the currents, reaching every pirate.
The battle froze.
Shiki himself flew over. "Where?"
Rhein pointed. "Eight kilometers away. And worse—the storm's strengthening. If we don't leave now, half the fleet will be annihilated. Even I can't control the air currents anymore."
Shiki's grin faltered. He trusted Rhein. If even he could not master the storm, then it was a disaster beyond reckoning.
He glanced at Roger. "Cease fire, Roger. I won't let you off next time."
Roger smiled back, relief hidden in his eyes. "Same here, Shiki."
The two kings called their fleets back.
But for the Marines, it was too late.
Sengoku felt the warships lurch. "Why are we still moving forward?" a Marine cried.
Realization dawned on Sengoku. The battle ahead had gone silent, but the waves behind were forcing them straight into danger.
A Den Den Mushi rang out. Zephyr's voice came through, urgent: "Sengoku! Whitebeard's shifted the storm toward you. You're being forced into the battlefield!"
Faces darkened. Whitebeard had turned the Marines into the third party, using them to break the clash between Roger and Shiki.
"Retreat! Full speed! This storm will sink us all!" Zephyr shouted.
But nature was merciless. Waves larger than mountains slammed into the warships. Sengoku blasted apart some with shockwaves, Garp smashed others with fists of iron, but even Admirals struggled. Kuzan's ice shattered, Sakazuki's magma boiled uselessly, Borsalino's light bullets disappeared into the abyss.
When at last they staggered free of the storm, the Marines were battered, stamina spent. And that was when Shiki struck, seizing his chance. Only Zephyr's arrival prevented total catastrophe.
The next morning, headlines swept the world:
"The Battle of Edd War Halted by a Super Storm!"
"An Unprecedented Natural Disaster Strikes!"
"Marines Crushed by Sea and Pirates Alike!"
The photos were terrifying—colossal waves towering over fleets, warships tossed like toys. No pictures of Roger or Shiki circulated; no bird dared fly into the heart of the storm.
The world's eyes weren't on the Roger Pirates or the Golden Lion Pirates, nor even on the battered Marines.
What they remembered was the storm itself—an apocalypse born in the New World.