The moment that sentence was spoken, it was as if it drained every last ounce of strength from him.
The once-mighty Fleet Admiral Sengoku, who had ruled the seas for decades, now stood hunched. His once-black hair turned white at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Beside him, Steel Bone Kong, Akainu, and the others looked absolutely grim.
Tens of thousands of surviving Marine soldiers stood frozen, as if struck by lightning. Their weapons dropped to the ground with a hollow clang, their eyes completely losing light.
They had lost...
They represented the highest military force of the World Government—the embodiment of Absolute Justice. And they had lost.
Sengoku paid no attention to the chaos behind him. He merely lifted his bloodshot eyes, locking his gaze on Whitebeard across the field.
He took a deep breath, gathering his last strength, and spoke in a tone that even carried a hint of pleading:
"Whitebeard!"
"You can take my head—make it your war trophy if you must!"
"But I beg you… spare the rest of the Marines! They were only carrying out their duty!"
Gasps rippled across the battlefield.
"Sengoku!"
"Admiral!"
"Don't plead with pirates!"
Steel Bone Kong roared, veins bulging on his forehead.
"The word 'beg' has no place in the Marine lexicon! If they want to kill us, so be it!"
"Damn right!"
Akainu's magma-marked face twisted in defiance.
"Justice does not bow to evil!"
"If you're going to kill us, then do it! Marines don't have cowards among us!"
"Ohohohoho! Damn right! We die standing—
We fight to the last man!!"
"Yeah! Kill us if you want—bring it on!"
"There are no cowards in the Marines!"
Sengoku's words and Akainu's roar reignited the dying embers of the Marines' pride.
They picked up their weapons again, roaring back like thunder.
They would rather die than accept a pity truce.
"Gurararara!!"
"Gurarara!"
In response came twin, booming, thunderous laughter.
Elder Whitebeard, holding Murakumo Giri, looked at Sengoku with a trace of regret in his weathered face.
"Sengoku… we've been fighting for decades. From youth to now. Don't you know me by now?"
"I've never cared for your head."
Prime Whitebeard rested his blade on his shoulder, flashing a wide grin full of white teeth.
"All I wanted—was Ace."
"And now… we've got him back."
Both Whitebeards spoke in unison:
"As long as you don't stop us from leaving—this war ends here."
Just then, a figure descended from the sky—
Lucian Thorn, now back in his human form.
"You're right, Pops."
"Our goal's been achieved. There's no need to wipe them out."
"So long as you don't stop us from leaving—this war is over."
Lucian glanced over the shell-shocked Marine command—
Then, suddenly, his tone shifted.
"But before we go, I need to take someone with me.
I hope you won't make this difficult."
Sengoku frowned.
"Who?"
Lucian didn't answer.
He turned to the far-off ruins—
where a certain someone was crawling out from under the rubble.
Teach.
Blackbeard, crushed by the combined assault of the two Whitebeards, yet still alive thanks to the power of the Dark-Dark Fruit.
"Come on, now."
Lucian smirked and snapped his fingers.
"Light Bind."
Zing!
Ropes of pure golden light appeared out of thin air and instantly wrapped around Teach, binding him tightly!
"What the hell?!"
Teach was horrified.
He could feel it—
These ropes didn't just restrain his body—
They were suppressing his Devil Fruit powers!
Before he could resist, an overwhelming force yanked him out of the rubble.
Whoosh!
Teach flew through the air like a cannonball—
and landed heavily at the feet of the Whitebeard Pirates.
"Teach!!!"
"That traitor!!"
The moment they saw him, Marco, Jozu, Vista, and every Whitebeard crew member's eyes turned blood-red.
The killing intent exploded.
This was the man who murdered their brother Thatch.
Who handed Ace over to the Marines.
Who started this cursed war.
"Nobody touch him."
Lucian's voice rang out just in time, halting their wrath.
"We'll judge him… back home."
"Understood."
Marco nodded coldly and retrieved a pair of Seastone cuffs from the ship.
"So it really was him…"
Sengoku didn't hesitate.
"No objections. Take him."
A man who could betray even his own "father" had no value to the Marines.
And so, the epic conflict that would later be known as the Summit War came to an end—
in a way no one could have ever expected.
The standoff ended.
The Marines began searching the rubble for survivors, assessing the damage.
The Whitebeard Pirates and their allies tended to the wounded, gathered their dead, and prepared to withdraw.
No cheers.
No curses.
Just silence.
The Whitebeard Fleet slowly turned its ships around, heading out of the bay.
No one stopped them.
The Marines could only watch—silently—as they left.
Meanwhile, amid the chaos, the remaining Blackbeard Pirates, seeing their captain captured and a ceasefire in effect, began to panic.
"Our captain's been caught! What do we do?!"
"Run! RUN!"
"Staying here means death!!"
Sanjuan Wolf, Avalo Pizarro, and the others exchanged glances—then turned and fled at full speed.
But they didn't get far.
Two silhouettes blocked their path.
"Hey, hey… what's the rush, gentlemen?"
A lazy, mocking tone—
It was Kizaru.
Next to him stood Aokiji, hands in his pockets, mist of cold air rising from his lips.
"Ara ara… We can't just let you run away."
"Traitors to the Marines… must face judgment."
Faced with these two monsters, the Blackbeard commanders went pale.
A moment later—
Blinding beams and freezing spears rained down, burying them in pain.
Their screams echoed through the ruins of Marineford.
After the Whitebeard Fleet departed—
A massive ship with a dragon's head prow and blood-red hull silently emerged from the sea fog.
The Jolly Roger displayed a skull with three scars across the left eye.
The Red-Haired Pirates had arrived.
Leading them was a man with unmistakable red hair and three facial scars—
Shanks, one of the Four Emperors ruling the New World.
He stood at the bow, staring at the land ahead—
Marineford, now reduced to rubble.
Its coastline warped forever.
He was silent for a long time.
Everything around him screamed of one thing:
A war of unimaginable brutality… had just ended.
Beside him, Benn Beckman took a long drag from his cigar, his face unusually grave.
"…Looks like we're too late."
Shanks finally looked up.
His eyes swept across the withdrawing Whitebeard fleet, and the Marines cleaning up the aftermath.
Then, he smiled bitterly.
"No."
"The war…
is already over."