That fist—radiating with enough power to annihilate everything and wrapped in a space-shattering white aura—stopped just three inches from the aged Whitebeard's face.
And yet, there was not a trace of fear on the old man's face.
Time itself seemed to pause.
The world-ending power halted in mid-air.
That pressure, enough to shake the very earth, vanished in an instant—like a tide receding without a sound.
"..."
"..."
Marco, who had been about to leap into action, froze in place.
Lucian Thorn, who had been moments away from triggering his System to intervene, also stiffened.
The battlefield fell into an eerie silence.
Two Whitebeards—
One with his fist raised,
One on one knee with arms crossed in defense.
One radiating unyielding power,
One still gasping for air.
They simply stared at each other.
Staring at a face exactly like their own—
And yet, aged by time and shaped by completely different years.
In the golden eyes of Peak Whitebeard, the burning fury and killing intent gradually faded, replaced by a swirl of emotions even he couldn't explain.
Calmness.
Confusion.
And a faint sense of recognition—so subtle he hadn't noticed it himself.
He saw it.
He saw in this battered, worn-down "imposter" a pair of cloudy eyes that, even in the face of a deathblow, showed not a flicker of fear or retreat.
Only serenity… and a trace of nostalgia?
'What is he reminiscing about?'
'That I'm about to blast him into oblivion?'
Absurd.
And yet, that absurdity felt overwhelmingly real.
Because if it were him—facing such an enemy—he might wear that same expression.
On the other side, the aged Whitebeard slowly lowered his arms.
He looked at the mighty fist of his younger self, so close, brimming with infinite power—
And smiled.
A weary, yet deeply content smile.
The next moment—
Marco and Lucian's eyes nearly popped out of their heads.
Peak Whitebeard blinked at the smile.
Then, his own lips curled upward—unconsciously mirroring the old man's grin.
Same curve.
Same attitude.
As if they'd rehearsed this exact scene a thousand times before.
Both men tilted their heads back at the same time.
"Gurararara—!"
"Gurararara—!"
Two laughs.
One aged and hoarse.
One vigorous and thunderous.
But the rhythm, the tone—perfectly synchronized. Their laughter fused into one mighty bellow that roared up to the clouds!
There was no longer any killing intent in that laugh.
Only the joy of meeting a worthy rival—
And an even deeper sense of… clarity.
Marco was completely dumbfounded.
Lucian? Equally stunned.
'Just a second ago they were trying to kill each other…'
'And now they're laughing together?!'
'What the hell is going on?'
Peak Whitebeard slowly withdrew his fist. With hands on his hips, he looked down at the still-panting elder version of himself.
"You old bastard…"
His voice held some annoyance—
But no trace of hostility.
"You really are me."
The elder Whitebeard tried to suppress his laughter and coughing, managing to speak between the two.
"Gurararara… Who else would I be?"
He raised his head, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and gave a playful glint in his eye.
"You're still as reckless as ever, brat."
"Hah?!"
Peak Whitebeard's brow twitched, ready to retort—
But then his face suddenly changed.
At the same time, Lucian's expression grew solemn.
"They're here!"
Lucian's Observation Haki had picked up several powerful presences diving over the cliff at incredible speed!
There was no time to explain!
"Pops! Marco! Don't move!"
Lucian barked the order, grabbing the still-dazed Marco with one hand, while slapping the other onto the elder Whitebeard's shoulder.
System!
Conceal!
Buzz!
A faint spatial ripple spread from Lucian's body—
And in the blink of an eye, all three vanished.
Peak Whitebeard stared, momentarily stunned—then instantly understood.
He glanced at the spot where they had disappeared and smirked.
Then he turned—swift and sharp—toward the top of the cliff.
"Pops!"
"Are you alright?!"
Several figures descended from the sky, landing heavily around him.
It was the younger versions of Jozu, Vista, and others.
They looked at the battlefield—now a wasteland as if struck by meteors—with shock and deep concern painted across their faces.
"This mess… you did all this?"
Jozu stared at the cracked earth, swallowing hard.
Peak Whitebeard crossed his arms, returning to his towering, untouchable posture. He waved dismissively.
"Quit whining!"
He barked.
"Oden got lured away by that bastard Roger. I'm pissed. Can't I blow off some steam?!"
That excuse—unshakeable.
The captains looked at each other. Although Pops' outburst felt a bit too extreme, seeing his fiery mood… they could only let it go.
"So that's what it was…"
"Well, good to know you're okay."
Just then, Vista pointed toward the sea.
"Pops… that ship over there—what do we do?"
Everyone turned to look.
A massive pirate ship of unfamiliar design sat silently on the distant waves.
Hidden in the air nearby, Lucian's heart skipped a beat.
He could sense it!
That ship also held several powerful auras—equal to the captain-level crew!
Peak Whitebeard glanced at the ship, his expression unreadable.
A nearby crewman understood immediately. He dashed to the shore, grabbed a signal flag, and swiftly waved a complex sequence of hand signals.
Moments later—
The distant ship let out a long blast of its horn, as if replying.
Then slowly, it turned away from the Moby Dick and began sailing in the opposite direction, until it finally disappeared beyond the horizon.
The crisis—temporarily resolved.
But Peak Whitebeard, unfazed, turned around—
His gaze piercing the void, falling precisely on the hidden spot where Lucian and the others waited.
A wild, curious grin spread across his face.