The world read one name in black ink. And froze.
EDWARD GUNNAR – DEAD.
The headline on the front page of the World Economic Journal tore across continents like a shockwave. The News Coo flocks spread the news within hours, stirring oceans, cities, and hearts alike.
In quiet taverns across East Blue, old men who once whispered the name Whitebeard like a curse now lifted mugs in shaky relief. Far west, merchant captains toasted aboard rocking ships, relieved that one fewer Yonko lieutenant walked the seas.
Across the world, Marine officers received their orders. One by one, Gunnar's wanted posters were pulled down. The image of the young man with that arrogant smirk, blazing golden eyes, and two-toned red-and-white hair – erased like dust on parchment.
The heir to Whitebeard's legacy, the bloodline that once shook the seas, was gone. And to many, it felt like the world had just taken a step toward peace.
But within Marineford's walls, there was no peace. Only dread.
Sengoku slammed the newspaper down on his desk. His goat flinched and let out a startled bleat. The paper lay open, the headline staring back like a loaded pistol.
Garp didn't touch his rice crackers. He sat stiffly across the room, arms crossed, a dark scowl replacing his usual grin.
"'Deceased'," Sengoku growled, pacing. "And the world throws a parade. They think the threat's gone. Fools. They don't see what's coming."
"They never do," Garp said, voice low and heavy. He glanced at the article. It mentioned an ambush. A betrayal. A fight among the Yonko crews. Big Mom's daughter, Smoothie, named as the one who dealt the final blow. Sparse on details. Loud on consequences.
"So… Linlin's girl finally turned." Garp shook his head. "Like mother, like daughter."
Sengoku stopped pacing. His jaw clenched. "You're missing the bigger picture, Garp. This wasn't just a pirate feud. We were watching something worse. A possible alliance. Whitebeard and Big Mom – through that child – could've united. It would've shattered everything we've worked to protect."
"And now?" Garp asked.
"Now it's worse," Sengoku said. "That bond didn't just break – it exploded. Whitebeard doesn't forgive. One of his sons—his heir—is dead. Killed by the mother of his unborn grandchild. You think he'll let that go?"
He turned to the window, staring at the vast ocean beyond. "Whitebeard's wrath will be biblical."
Garp let out a long breath. "And Linlin won't run. She's got the girl. She's shown she can kill his strongest. She'll see it as a victory."
"Exactly!" Sengoku snapped, whirling around. "This isn't a territorial dispute. It's not about pride. This is personal now. Two Yonko. Full fleets. No restraint. No rules. Just war. Entire islands will sink. Nations will vanish. The New World will drown in blood."
He rubbed his temples. "And us? We can't pick a side. If we intervene, we get dragged into hell. But if one of them wins… the survivor will be unstoppable."
Garp stood, towering over the desk. "Then we don't intervene."
Sengoku looked at him, stunned. "What?"
"Let them tear each other apart," Garp said. "Whitebeard is old. Sick. Big Mom is mad and arrogant. Let the monsters bleed. This may be the best chance we'll ever have to weaken them both."
"That's a dangerous gamble," Sengoku warned. "The power vacuum—"
"There is no balance anymore," Garp cut in. "It shattered the day those two had a child. It cracked when Kizaru was sent on that mission. We've been reacting for years. For once, let them destroy themselves. We'll clean up what's left."
A silence hung between them, heavy as thunderclouds.
Finally, Sengoku gave a slow nod. "Prepare the fleets. Reinforce G-5. We stay out of it. But we'll be ready when the ashes fall."
Garp turned to leave, but paused. "And the child?"
Sengoku looked down at the paper again, at Gunnar's smirking face. He hesitated.
"The child doesn't matter," he said quietly. "Not anymore. Just another piece on the board. Another casualty of what's coming."
But even as he spoke, a cold knot twisted in his gut. The world celebrated the death of a monster. But Sengoku, the strategist, knew better.
They hadn't killed a monster.
They'd just created a reason for a far worse one to rise.
Edward Gunnar's death wasn't the end.
It was the spark. The beginning of the end.
***
The news rode the wings of seabirds and the breath of salt winds, drifting across oceans and borders, whispered in courts, shouted in taverns, and murmured in the halls of gods and kings alike.
A Remote Island in the New World – The Red Force
The beach was alive with music and laughter. The Red Hair Pirates, never ones to pass up a reason to celebrate, had turned the coastline into a roaring festival—roasted sea king on spits, barrels of sake cracked open, and men dancing half-drunk to the rhythm of sea shanties.
At the center, sitting on a piece of driftwood like a throne, was Shanks. He laughed heartily as Yasopp challenged Lucky Roux to another round, each drink sloshing over the edge of their mugs.
Then, the mood shifted.
A News Coo swooped down from the sky and dropped a newspaper into Benn Beckman's hand. Benn's smile faded as his eyes locked on the front page. He folded the paper tightly and walked over to Shanks.
"What is it?" Shanks asked, still smiling, but his tone dropped.
Benn didn't answer. He handed the paper over.
Shanks read it. Slowly. Then again.
EDWARD GUNNAR – DECEASED.
The celebration stopped. The wind seemed to still. Shanks' one hand tightened around the paper until the edges crumpled. Betrayed. Big Mom. Smoothie. The words hit like cannon fire.
Lucky Roux looked over, his grin fading. "Captain?"
Shanks stood up without a word. He walked to the shoreline and stared at the horizon—the direction of the Moby Dick.
A quiet wave of Conqueror's Haki swept outward—not violent, but heavy. Grief, not rage.
He spoke to the sea more than to his crew. "He was supposed to carry the flame. And now… that old man will burn the world down."
He turned slightly. "Benn. Set a course."
"To where?"
Shanks' voice was low, steady. "We're either going to stop a tidal wave… or drown with everything else."
Baltigo – Revolutionary Army Headquarters
In the steel heart of the Revolution, beneath humming lights and blinking monitors, Dragon stood before a world map, his gaze fixed on the Grand Line.
Sabo entered quietly, holding a transcribed report. His face was unreadable.
"Dragon-san," he said, "it's confirmed. From North Blue and our men in Totto Land."
Dragon didn't move. "Gunnar?"
"Yes. Killed by Charlotte Smoothie. On Big Mom's orders. The child is in their custody."
Dragon turned. Calm, cold. But there was fire behind his eyes.
He took the paper, read it once, then lowered it.
"They think this ends something," he said. "But it's the beginning of a fire they cannot contain."
Sabo frowned. "You think it'll start a war?"
"No. Not a war," Dragon replied. "An unraveling. Whitebeard has no use for political games. He lost a son—and a future. And Linlin? She'll defend her pride with everything she has. They'll bring their empires down on each other."
He turned back to the map. "And in the ashes of their fight, something new can rise. Something the World Government won't see coming."
Sabo's eyes narrowed. "You want to act?"
Dragon nodded. "Change our timetable. While the monsters rage, we move in the shadows. No one watches the spark when they're staring at the wildfire."
Wano – Onigashima, Skull Dome
The Skull Dome reeked of sweat, spilled sake, and blood. Kaido sat atop his throne, gourd in hand, watching two underlings beat each other into the floor for his amusement.
He barely cared.
The world had become dull. No worthy challengers, no glorious deaths. No thrill.
A Gifter dropped a newspaper at King's feet. King picked it up, scanned it, then handed it to Kaido without a word.
Kaido's eyes landed on the headline.
EDWARD GUNNAR – DECEASED.
For a moment, nothing. Then, a low rumble grew in his chest, swelling until it became a thunderous laugh.
"WORORORO! The brat's dead? And not even in battle? Killed by a woman? Hah!"
He slammed his gourd down, cracking the stone.
But behind the laughter, there was disappointment. Real, bitter disappointment.
"I wanted to fight that boy. I wanted to crush him myself."
Kaido took a long drink and muttered, "What a waste…"
He had read the reports—Titan fruit, quake abilities, monstrous strength. Gunnar had promise. The kind of warrior who might've been worth dying to.
And now? Gone. Snuffed out in the backroom treachery of Linlin's brood.
"King," Kaido grunted, his tone flat. "Anyone left in this world worth fighting?"
King paused. "Whitebeard's heading toward war with Big Mom."
Kaido's eyes sharpened.
"Good," he said, standing. "Let them kill each other. When it's over… I'll deal with whoever's left."
He smiled—a savage, hungry thing.
"Maybe I'll finally get the fight I've been waiting for."
Let me know if you'd like to add Blackbeard's perspective, or a short interlude showing Whitebeard's silent reaction for dramatic build-up.