Chapter 63: The Weight of a Name
The silence that followed Sengoku's declaration was absolute. It was a vacuum of sound, sucked dry by the sheer weight of the name he had uttered. Then, like a dam bursting, the noise returned—a global tide of shock, disbelief, and primal fear.
On the plaza, a hundred thousand Marines stared, their disciplined ranks momentarily forgotten. The name 'Gol D. Roger' was not just a pirate's name; it was a specter, the source of the very chaos they fought against every day. To learn that the man they were about to execute was his son… it rattled the foundation of their understanding.
Ace's head was bowed, his shoulders trembling not with fear, but with a furious, helpless rage. The secret he had spent his life running from was now broadcast to the world. The legacy he hated was now his brand.
On the execution platform, Monkey D. Garp stood like a statue carved from grief, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He watched his grandson bear the burden of a cursed birthright, and the pain in his eyes was a silent scream.
Out in the bay, standing tall on the deck of the Moby Dick, Whitebeard's face hardened. "Sengoku… you bastard." His voice was a low rumble of fury. By revealing this, the Marines weren't just executing a pirate; they were attempting to exterminate an idea, to taint the memory of his son with the world's hatred. It was psychological warfare of the cruelest kind.
On the Admiral's platform, the reaction was more contained but no less significant.
"Ohhh… so that's it," Kizaru drawled, though the usual mockery in his tone was subdued. "The blood of the Pirate King. No wonder they want him dead so badly."
Aokiji let out a long, frosty breath. "A heavy truth to lay on everyone's shoulders right before a battle."
Akainu's expression was one of grim satisfaction. "Good. Let the world see. The bloodline of the greatest evil, sheltered by another evil. They will be purged together. Absolute justice demands nothing less." His molten fist bubbled aggressively.
Levi listened, his face an impassive mask. Internally, he analyzed the move. Clever, Sengoku. You've reframed the entire war. It's no longer just the Marines vs. Whitebeard. It's 'Order' vs. the 'Demon King's Legacy.' You've given every Marine here a visceral reason to fight beyond orders. And you've given the world a reason to cheer for Whitebeard's fall. It was a masterstroke of propaganda, leveraging the deepest fear the World Government had cultivated for decades.
His own plans, however, remained unchanged. This revelation only heightened the stakes. Defeating Whitebeard now wouldn't just be defeating a powerful pirate; it would be symbolically ending the era Roger began. The fame, the infamy, the weight of such an act was incalculably greater.
His Reiatsu Perception subtly expanded, a delicate, invisible net over the battlefield. He felt the spike of despair from Ace, the volcanic rage from Whitebeard, the cold resolve of the Admirals beside him, and the swirling maelstrom of fear and determination from the Marines. It was a symphony of powerful souls, and he was the conductor waiting for his cue.
The moment of stunned silence was shattered by Whitebeard's roar. "SO WHAT?!"
The Emperor's voice boomed across the water, drowning out the rising murmurs. "His father is his father! The sins of a man are not inherited by his son! Ace is Ace! He is my son, and he is a proud member of my family! That's all that matters! GURARARARA! Marines! Your tricks are pathetic!"
The declaration was a powerful counter. It appealed to a different, more personal truth. On the execution platform, Ace jerked his head up, tears of frustration and gratitude mingling in his eyes. "Old man…"
Whitebeard's intervention broke the spell Sengoku's words had cast. The Whitebeard Pirates roared their approval, their loyalty to their brother reforged stronger than any bloodline. The battle lines were no longer about history; they were about the present, about family.
Sengoku's face tightened. The psychological blow had landed, but Whitebeard had weathered it. Now, it returned to force. "Enough! All forces! Annihilate them!"
The cannons, which had fallen silent during the revelation, roared back to life. The battle erupted in full, chaotic fury. Pirates surged across the ice, clashing with the front lines of Marines. The sound of steel, gunfire, and shouted commands filled the air.
From the pirate ranks, Commanders leaped into action. Marco the Phoenix transformed, a blue flame streaking toward the execution platform. "Ace! Hang on!"
"Not so fast." Kizaru's form dissolved into golden light, rematerializing in Marco's path. A devastating kick met flaming talons in a blast of light and fire. "The Admiral's seat isn't just for show, you know~"
Jozu, the Diamond Commander, charged forward, a living battering ram aimed at the bay's fortifications. Before he could strike, a colossal wall of ice erupted before him.
"Cool down, hothead," Aokiji stated, his hand extended.
The Admirals had engaged.
Akainu remained seated for a moment longer, his eyes fixed on Whitebeard. "The head of the serpent is on that ship. The rest are just limbs." He stood up, magma beginning to cascade from his body. "I'll carve a path."
Levi watched it all unfold, still seated. His role, for these initial moments, was observation. He tracked the flow of battle, the movements of key players. His mind, however, was split. Part of his consciousness was here, on the chaotic plaza. Another part was calculating distance, timing.
Now, he thought. The focus is absolute. The Den Den Mushis are fixed on the Admirals, on Whitebeard, on the spectacle.
With a motion so slight it was almost imperceptible, he adjusted his posture. To any observer, he was simply following the battle intently. But in that moment, he used a fraction of his power—not to attack, but to cloak.
Shunpo.
It wasn't the full, thunderous burst he was capable of. It was a refined, ultra-high-speed movement that left behind a perfectly crafted, faintly Reiatsu-imbued afterimage in his seat. To the naked eye and even to most forms of Observation Haki, Admiral Black Crow remained in place, a watchful sentinel. The spiritual pressure was a low, constant hum, a convincing forgery that would last for a critical few minutes.
His true body vanished, a blur of speed so extreme it didn't disturb the air. He shot not toward the battlefield, but away from it, exiting Marineford from a blind spot in its rear fortifications. The world narrowed to a streak of motion over the ocean.
His destination: Impel Down.
The war was a perfect smokescreen. While the world's eyes were glued to the clash of titans at Marineford, Levi would secure his own future. The prisoners of Level 6, the ones whose wills he had been subtly eroding, were ripe for the final step. And he needed to be there personally to imprint his authority, to weave his Reiatsu into the fabric of their souls, turning them from potential rebels into bound instruments of his will. It was a backup plan, a private army hidden in the world's most secure prison.
He also had to check on Rayleigh and Luffy. The Red Hair Pirates were a variable. Shanks's disappearance was too calculated. An attack on Impel Down during the war was a distinct, dangerous possibility. Levi would be there to greet them if they came. And if they didn't… his work would proceed uninterrupted.
As he sped across the calm sea, leaving the thunder of war far behind, a cold focus settled over him. The battle at Marineford was the canvas upon which the world would see his power. But the moves he made in the shadows of Impel Down would determine his freedom from the puppeteers in Mary Geoise.
The game was being played on multiple boards, and Levi intended to win them all.
(End of Chapter)
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