Chapter 223: Two Marine Branches for the Trade
A Marine Admiral has been captured!
This catastrophic news spread like wildfire through the Navy.
Already demoralized from being routed by the Crimson Legion, hearing this sent the remaining soldiers into panic—some even turned and fled.
"I still have a family—I can't die here!"
Great Eruption!
Before the deserter could take two steps, Akainu's magma-coated fist pierced straight through his chest.
"Anyone who disrupts morale on the battlefield… dies!"
Like a true iron-blooded commander, Akainu had zero tolerance for cowards.
The others who had considered fleeing were so terrified by his ruthlessness that they steeled themselves and continued fighting.
The slaughter raged on—
the thunder of flintlock fire, the clash of blades, and the screams of fallen Marines filled the air.
As long as the crimson energy core in Whitebeard's chest didn't run dry,
his crew remained completely unscathed.
"A monster!"
"Somebody help me!"
Even with the threat of instant execution, the Marines eventually began to break ranks.
These were seasoned elites, trained and battle-tested, men who had hunted countless pirates—
but now they were facing enemies that couldn't be killed.
Pirates whose limbs regenerated moments after being severed, whose bodies glowed red like devils risen from hell.
How could anyone keep fighting that?
"You're still too green, Sakazuki!"
Whitebeard powered his arms, his massive blade cleaving through the air in a sweeping arc—
its force so great it shattered space itself with visible shockwaves.
Hellhound!
Akainu swung his arm,
magma dripping like molten rain. His flaming limb, shaped like a hunting hound, shot forward toward Whitebeard's face.
Pheasant Beak!
At the same time, Aokiji launched his attack—
an icebird sculpted like an elegant statue soared through the air, trailing waves of freezing mist.
BOOM!
Blade met ice and magma in a titanic explosion.
The frozen sea shattered,
the earth trembled, and both pirates and Marines near the epicenter were blown away by the shockwave.
A black haze blanketed the center of the battlefield.
When it cleared,
Whitebeard stood tall, gripping Murakumogiri—unscathed.
The red glow from his body had absorbed most of the damage, distributing the rest among his crew, who bore it with him.
On the other side,
Aokiji dragged a mangled Akainu to safety.
"You okay, Sakazuki?"
"Still alive…"
Akainu replied hoarsely.
The entire left side of his body was devastated—skin torn apart by shockwaves, exposing muscle and bone like a ghostly specter.
His left leg had been severed entirely—he now limped on a makeshift magma prosthetic, billowing black smoke.
"To beat Whitebeard, you'd have to kill all his men first."
"But if you don't kill Whitebeard, they just keep reviving. What a maddening power…"
Aokiji shook his head.
The Crimson Troll's bizarre abilities were too hard to counter.
Only Garp and Smoker, who had also become players, might stand a chance using their own Game powers.
"Ceasefire!"
They couldn't keep going—not with Kizaru still captured, and Akainu on the brink of death.
"This is what Whitebeard at full strength looks like… terrifying."
"Don't talk like that!"
"Don't give pirates the satisfaction! It's not Whitebeard—it's that cursed Reincarnation Game!"
Akainu gritted his teeth as he limped away, his pride wounded.
"Long live Dad!"
The Whitebeard Pirates erupted in cheers.
The Navy withdrew in disarray, returning to their headquarters. Aokiji and Akainu needed time to heal and recover.
Vice Admiral Tsuru reported to Fleet Admiral Sengoku, sighing heavily—
then approached the Moby Dick in the name of peaceful negotiation.
"Newgate, may we have Borsalino back?"
"You boarded a pirate ship alone. Aren't you afraid of being captured like the Yellow Monkey, Tsuru?"
Whitebeard's gaze turned icy,
his pressure suddenly bursting out, making the entire Moby Dick tremble.
"If you were the kind of man who'd pull such a stunt, you wouldn't be someone who once rivaled Roger for the One Piece. I trust you wouldn't do that."
Tsuru remained unfazed, her expression calm under the suffocating aura.
Though powerful, she knew she couldn't match Whitebeard in pure strength.
But she came without protection because she understood his nature.
"Gurararara…"
Whitebeard withdrew his presence and said plainly,
"Five hundred billion reward points—that's the ransom to take Yellow Monkey back."
"Impossible."
Tsuru rejected him immediately.
"Even if we sold everything, Marine Headquarters couldn't gather five hundred billion."
"Then sell some bases and islands."
"Also impossible."
Tsuru shook her head coldly. "That amount could create a new admiral from scratch in the Game. It's not fair."
Five hundred billion would mean selling at least five naval branches—
each one a fortress built on decades of accumulated resources.
They couldn't be sold so easily.
Marco stepped forward and added,
"This isn't just about fairness. Kizaru represents the face of Marine Headquarters."
The Navy's authority rested on the reputation of its Admirals.
If Kizaru remained on the Moby Dick, Marine HQ would be utterly disgraced.
"One hundred billion is our absolute limit."
"Three hundred fifty. No lower."
"…"
In the end,
Marine HQ paid 200 billion in assets to reclaim Borsalino—losing one of their branches in the process.
Both sides tacitly agreed not to push further.
Though the Marines had military strength,
they were up against not only the Yonko, but also the Revolutionary Army. They had no real advantage.
At the center of Death Island,
a grand palace emerged from the ground. Black clouds swirled overhead like a dragon.
Creaaak…
The massive doors opened, shrouded in pitch-black mist, releasing the stench of death like a blast from the underworld.
In an instant, the entire island was swallowed by the darkness.
Stronger than ever, hordes of vengeful spirits surged out of the palace like a tide.
Finally, a tall, gaunt figure stood at the gates—
his icy eyes sweeping over the players as though they were already corpses.
"Welcome… to the Soul-Harvesting Hall."
Freed from his bonds, the Soul Reaper now stood tall.
Though several chains still coiled within him, his power had skyrocketed.
Even the strongest player—the Revolutionary leader—could now be killed by him with ease.
His mere presence radiated an aura of fear—
enough to paralyze any human without the strength to resist.
And yet…
Something felt wrong.
The Soul Reaper's eyes narrowed in confusion.
These ants—these feeble humans—
were not cowering under his aura.
No.
They looked… eager. Obsessed.
They were staring at him like he was prey.
What was going on?
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