"What are they even doing here?!" Jozu shouted, feeling bewildered.
Marco had no answer. He was just as stunned, his brain racing to make sense of their sudden presence.
On the crow's nest, outlined by moonlight, stood a long, lean figure with the kind of confidence that could only belong to one man. Yasopp. He held his rifle with the relaxed ease of someone who had already anticipated everything happening on this battlefield. Even from this distance, they could see the faint but clearly amused smile lifting at the corner of his mouth, as if he had just made a perfect shot and knew it.
Beside him stood Ben Beckman, his presence alone radiating a commanding weight. On the opposite side leaned Lucky Roo, who was already munching on food mid-situation, grin wide and unbothered as though this chaos was nothing more than mild entertainment.
"They're really here…"
"If Shanks's crew is here, then that means—"
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion shattered the moment, rattling bones and setting nerves alight.
Flames and smoke surged into the air in a violent plume, engulfing a distant section of the battlefield. Ash rained down like black snow, and the light from the fire painted the warriors in dancing shades of red and orange.
.
.
.
A few moments earlier…
"ARGHHHH!"
Still swallowed whole by a raging storm of fury, Ace could not sense anything beyond the burning wrath that consumed him. His awareness had narrowed to a single blistering obsession, which was the overwhelming need to pound Blackbeard into the dirt until the man's existence was snuffed out entirely. The world around him could have been collapsing or melting or sinking beneath the sea, yet none of it mattered. His mind had locked onto one target and refused to let go.
His fists flew in wild arcs, each punch driven by raw instinct and volcanic emotion. There was nothing refined in his movements anymore. No carefully practiced technique. Only savage, unrestrained force. Each blow cracked through the air with a ferocity that promised destruction, and even the wind seemed to recoil from the brutality of his onslaught.
His strength, fueled by rage and fear and pain, turned him into something feral and unpredictable. It was overwhelming enough that Blackbeard, for a brief moment, struggled to keep himself from being overtaken.
But Blackbeard was not some amateur would crumble easily under pressure.
Growling through clenched teeth, Blackbeard planted his feet and braced his colossal frame. His thick, powerful arm flexed as he pulled it back, gathering every ounce of strength he could muster. With a monstrous roar that split the air, he drove his fist into Ace's gut. The blow landed with the brutal impact of a cannonball. The force tore through Ace's midsection and launched him violently backward.
Ace flew like a ragged comet, hitting the ground with a jarring crash that sent dust and debris scattering. He tumbled and rolled, his body scraping against the ground until he came to a stop. Blood spilled from his mouth in a thick spray. His lungs seized, and he curled inward, coughing and choking as agony spiked through him.
Before he could even catch his breath, the world seemed to twist. A dark pressure enveloped him. Blackbeard, seizing the opportunity, activated his powers. A swirling gravitational force erupted from him, twisting the air into a spiraling maelstrom of shadows. The pull was merciless. Ace's battered body jerked violently as the darkness dragged him upward and toward the man who wanted him dead.
"You filthy little rat!" Blackbeard snarled. His fury dripped from every word as his enormous hand shot forward, clamping around Ace's throat with ruthless purpose. His fingers tightened like iron bands. Ace's air vanished in an instant. His legs kicked weakly, his fingers clawed at the hand crushing his windpipe, and his vision trembled with encroaching blackness.
Ace tried to breathe, but each attempt brought nothing but the burn of suffocation. His heartbeat faltered, echoing in his skull like a distant drum fading into silence. The battlefield blurred into a swirl of distorted colors and ringing noise.
"I'm gonna kill you right here and now!"
With a roar, Blackbeard lifted Ace like a discarded doll and slammed him into the ground with a force that made the earth quake. The impact carved a crack across the terrain. Ace's back screamed in agony as he hit the jagged stone.
His nerves lit up with an unbearable fire. His chest spasmed, trying desperately to take in air, but nothing came. His throat remained trapped beneath Blackbeard's merciless grip. His lungs convulsed, begging for oxygen that would not come. His mind began to unravel. His limbs felt distant. His body refused to move as his strength drained away.
Dark dots flickered across his sight. The edges of the world turned hazy, melting into shadow. His fingertips dug feebly at Blackbeard's wrist, but even that small motion drained what little energy he had left.
'Is this it? Am I really going to die… like this?'
The thought was soft, fragile, and full of despair. Blackbeard's face loomed above him, contorted in a twisted, gleeful smile that resembled a monstrous mask. Ace reached upward in a last, hopeless attempt to fight, but the motion was pitiful and weak.
His heartbeat slowed.
His consciousness dimmed.
The world turned silent.
Then everything went black.
.
.
.
Ace blinked. When he opened his eyes again, the entire world had transformed into something utterly foreign.
He stood in a vast emptiness, an endless realm of stillness and shadow. There was no ground beneath him, yet he did not fall. There was no sky above him, yet he felt something stretching into infinity. No breeze, no sound, no sensation. Just void. It was as though he had been suspended between existence and oblivion, weightless and hollow, like a lifeless marionette that had been stripped of its strings.
'Where… am I?'
The thought echoed in his mind without a whisper of sound. For a moment, he believed he was truly alone.
Then the darkness rippled.
Figures began to materialize before him, one by one, each more vivid than the last, as though his memories had gained flesh and form. His heart clenched painfully as he recognized them.
His brothers and sister stood before him, smiling. Their smiles were bright and carefree, so real he almost believed he could reach out and feel their warmth. Behind them appeared Dadan and her rowdy group, their loud, familiar presence filling the void with unspoken comfort. He saw Garp, stern and gruff yet undeniably protective. He saw Makino, gentle and soothing. He saw the mayor, wise and patient.
And then the groundless world seemed to tremble as a towering figure stepped forward. Whitebeard appeared, larger than life, his iconic grin radiating strength and unwavering pride. His presence alone illuminated the emptiness, casting away the gloom like the sun breaking through a storm. He looked every bit the father Ace had chosen, every bit the man Ace admired beyond measure.
The sight stole Ace's breath. Tears stung his eyes, blurring the images of the people he cherished most. Their existence in this desolate place grounded him, comforted him, and terrified him all at once.
Ace tried to speak, but his throat tightened with emotion. He knew this could not be real, that they were nothing more than visions conjured from the corner of death. Yet his heart yearned to reach out and hold onto them. His body refused to move, as though bound by invisible chains.
Slowly, they approached him. His siblings walked behind him, placing their hands on his back with gentle reassurance. Their touch radiated warmth through his spirit. Garp and the others gripped his hands firmly, reminding him he was loved. And Whitebeard lowered himself to one knee, towering yet gentle, and placed a huge palm on Ace's head. The gesture was soft, heartfelt, and full of unspoken affection.
"Do not give up now, son."
Whitebeard's voice boomed through the void, resonating with the same authority he carried in life. It was not just encouragement. It was a command, a promise, and a blessing.
With a single mighty push, they sent him forward. He was propelled toward a radiant beam of light that suddenly burst into existence in the distance. He reached out toward them, desperate to cling to their fading forms.
'Oyaji!'
His voice would not come out, but his heart screamed for them. Yet their silhouettes slowly dissolved, melting back into the void until only the blinding light remained.
.
.
.
With a violent gasp, Ace jolted back to life. His eyes flew open and his chest heaved as a surge of air exploded into his lungs. He arched off the ground as though electricity had sparked through him.
Pain flared around his throat, sharp and immediate, but it was proof that he still lived.
Teach's ugly face hovered above him, twisted in a leering snarl. But this time Ace did not freeze. Instinct roared inside him. Before Blackbeard could react, Ace lunged forward like a wild animal cornered and driven by sheer survival. His teeth clamped down on Blackbeard's wrist with ruthless force.
"ARGHHH!" Blackbeard bellowed in agony. He ripped his arm back instinctively, but Ace's bite tore a gruesome chunk of flesh away. Blood streamed down Blackbeard's arm in thick, dark rivulets. His expression twisted into something filled with pure hatred.
"You little bastard!"
But Ace was already pulling away, collapsing back to the ground and grabbing his bruised throat. His breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps. The phantom sensation of Teach's grip still squeezed at his windpipe. His vision wavered, yet he felt the undeniable truth.
He was alive. Against all odds, he had clawed his way back.
Ace shut his eyes briefly and forced his trembling body to steady. The images of Whitebeard, of Luffy, of Sabo, of everyone he loved, flickered in his mind. Whether they had been real spirits or the desperate creation of a dying mind did not matter. They had reached him when he had stood on the brink of the afterlife.
They had given him the strength to return.
He shuddered, remembering that void. That cold, silent realm. He understood what it had been.
Death.
He had been right on the edge of it.
'I'm not ready to die. Not yet. Not now!'
His heart pounded with newfound determination, burning like a brand within his chest.
"That's it! I am so done with you!" Blackbeard roared, veins bulging across his forehead and neck. Raising his uninjured arm high, he called forth his power. Wind howled in every direction, and thick, oily darkness gathered into a swirling sphere above his palm. As it pulsed, tiny red sparks crackled and flared within, giving it a terrifying, hellish glow.
Ace's breath caught painfully in his throat. That attack… something about that ball of concentrated energy looked familiar. Unsettlingly familiar.
A memory surfaced in his mind with startling clarity. He remembered standing in Mary Geoise, watching Naru unleash an attack of unimaginable power. Her signature sphere of energy had looked different, yet somehow similar. Blackbeard's imitation lacked the purity and brilliance of Naru's technique, but the resemblance was enough to make Ace's heart stop for a moment.
Blackbeard noticed the sudden recognition in Ace's expression and threw his head back in laughter.
"Zehahahahaha! That is right! You know exactly what this is, don't you?" he bellowed, his grin widening into something grotesque. His teeth gleamed through the darkness like the fangs of some wild beast.
He puffed out his chest proudly. "This is almost like her technique!"
In truth, Blackbeard had no idea what kind of power Kitsune truly wielded or how she had manifested it. He knew only that it had been devastating. But the fact that he had created something even remotely similar using his own dark abilities filled him with a savage, almost childish delight. His arrogance swelled to the point of intoxication.
"This is your end!" Blackbeard declared with finality, then hurled the dark sphere straight toward Ace. The sphere tore through the air like a meteor hurled by a wrathful god, devouring the light around it.
Still weak, barely standing, Ace cursed under his breath. His body refused to move, his limbs trembling from the damage already done. All he could do was stare as the attack raced toward him, growing larger, darker, more deadly by the second.
He closed his eyes and braced himself for the end.
BOOM!
A deafening blast shook the entire island. The force of the impact roared across the battlefield like a giant wave crashing against iron cliffs. Ace felt the pressure slam into him, a powerful shockwave that rattled his ribs and threatened to send him flying.
But… there was no pain. No tearing flesh. No crushing force swallowing him whole.
He was alive.
With trembling hesitation, Ace forced his eyes open. His breath hitched as he saw a broad figure standing resolutely before him, unmoving even as dust and debris continued to swirl around them. A long cloak fluttered behind the figure, snapping dramatically in the wind with every gust, as if boldly rebuking the destruction around them.
For a heartbeat, Ace thought he was reliving Marineford all over again. He almost expected to see his sister standing there, deflecting death itself just as she had done in the past.
But this time… it was not her.
Even beneath the dim light of night, the man's unmistakable crimson hair glimmered like burning embers beneath the moon.
The unmistakable color of red.
"Shanks!" Ace gasped, his voice raw and ragged, filled with disbelief and a flicker of hope.
The red-haired pirate turned his head slightly. A relaxed grin tugged at his lips, effortless and calm, yet somehow carrying a world of reassurance. "Yo."
"You…!" Blackbeard spat, shock and venom twisting his features. He stared at Shanks as though unable to grasp how someone could appear so suddenly and deflect his attack with such ease. Shanks had stopped a devastating blow with nothing more than his sword, as though swatting away a bothersome insect.
Blackbeard's lips twisted into an ugly sneer, his false smile strained with irritation. "So… you came here to rescue your captain's precious brat?"
But Shanks did not even spare him a glance. His focus remained entirely on Ace, who was still glaring at Blackbeard, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and disbelief.
"Good thing we arrived when we did," Shanks said in a light, almost teasing tone, though an unmistakable intensity simmered beneath his words.
"We…?" Ace rasped, barely able to make sense of anything. His confusion melted away when he caught sight of the enormous silhouette of the Red Force anchored nearby. Moments later, the Red Hair Pirates began disembarking, their weapons gleaming ominously as they joined the battle. Amid the crowd, Marco and the surviving Whitebeard Pirates came rushing toward him with urgency.
"Ace! Are you alright?!" Marco called out the moment he reached him, worry evident in his eyes.
"I'm fine," Ace answered, though his voice trembled with strain. He struggled to steady his breathing. "What about everyone else…?"
"We're holding the line," Marco assured him with a firm nod, though his tone was laced with tension.
The entire atmosphere shifted dramatically. What had moments ago felt suffocating and hopeless now surged with a new sense of unity and purpose. The remaining forces of Whitebeard stood together with the formidable Red Hair Pirates. Shoulder to shoulder, they formed an unbreakable wall. Their combined presence created a wave of pressure that Blackbeard could no longer overlook.
Shanks stepped forward, his presence like a blade cutting through the chaos. Every movement he made radiated quiet command. The dim, dying light of the battlefield caught the edge of his red hair, casting an almost ethereal glow around him.
"That's enough, Teach," he said, his voice calm but unshakable. He moved to stand directly in front of the battered Whitebeard remnants, placing himself between them and the enemy. His crew mirrored his stance, their hands on their weapons, ready to leap into action.
"You know as well as I do that continuing this fight gains nothing for anyone."
Ace clenched his fists until his knuckles turned pale. Rage rippled through him like a living flame. He stepped forward aggressively, his body trembling as a fierce desire for vengeance surged through him.
"Wait…!" he snapped, but the words faltered the instant Shanks turned his eyes on him.
Shanks did not glare. He did not scold. His expression carried something else entirely. Conviction. Understanding. A silent plea.
"It's over, Ace," Shanks said firmly, but there was a gentleness beneath his resolve. "This isn't the time."
Ace's breath hitched. Anger flared within him. He was about to shout in protest when he felt a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Listen to him," Marco said quietly. His eyes filled with reluctant acceptance.
Ace turned slowly to look at him. The conflict inside his chest felt unbearable. But Marco's gaze was calm, clear, and deeply reassuring. Ace looked around at his crewmates. They were battered, bleeding, exhausted, but still standing tall. Still fighting. Still supporting one another.
Ace exhaled shakily. His shoulders relaxed by a fraction. "...Fine," he muttered reluctantly, the bitterness in his tone impossible to hide.
Shanks gave a nod of acknowledgement before redirecting his attention Blackbeard.
Blackbeard's face twisted into a scowl of frustration. His teeth ground against each other, audibly scraping. His eyes darted between Marco and Ace, filled with greedy hunger. Both of their Devil Fruits tempted him like forbidden treasures that he desperately craved. So close, yet now miles beyond his reach.
And Shanks… Shanks was not someone he wished to test today.
A battle with him was not one he could take lightly.
"Tch," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Consider yourselves lucky."
He sent one final glare toward the Whitebeard Pirates, especially at Ace and Marco. His eyes burned with resentment and thwarted greed.
Then the darkness began to spill from his body once more. It poured out like endless ink, swirling around him and his crew. The shadows twisted and expanded, forming a massive dome that enveloped them completely.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished.
Gone without a trace.
As though the entire Blackbeard Pirates had never existed at all.
Ben Beckman stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping across the devastated battlefield. "They are gone," he said. "Not a single shadow left behind."
"Captain, should we return to the ship?" a crewmate asked cautiously.
Shanks looked slowly across the ruined landscape. His usually relaxed face darkened with grief.
The island was a wasteland. Burning, sinking, torn apart. Trees had been reduced to charred skeletons. The earth was cracked and cratered. One half of the landmass groaned ominously as it began to collapse into the sea. The ground was painted with blood. The thick, metallic smell of death lingered in the air.
Bodies were scattered everywhere. Some still twitched weakly. Others were motionless, their eyes staring into nothing.
Blackbeard's abandoned subordinates lay among them, still alive but barely clinging on. Their fates were sealed.
The Whitebeard Pirates would not spare them.
"Do what must be done," Shanks said gravely, his voice heavy as the weight of the night settled around them.