Jozu's voice trembled with urgency as he found Marco darting through the chaos, "Marco, how long must we hold on? Everyone is about to be scattered!"
Marco glanced at the surrounding battlefield, anxiety flickering in his eyes. He cursed under his breath the absence of the Blackbeard Pirates. Speaking with calm gravity, he said, "Our losses have been heavy, and the Marines have bled just as much. If we cannot hold a little longer, the Marines will descend on us like wolves. We must wait. Once Blackbeard and his crew arrive, that will be our chance to withdraw."
"Blackbeard?" Jozu's brow furrowed in confusion.
Marco nodded, eting Jozu's gaze, "Do you trust ?"
Jozu straightened, resolve firm, "Of course."
Marco allowed a small, determined smile, "Then it's decided. War is not sothing from which one retreats at will. The naive hope that we all return to the New World unscathed is impossible. For now, we do what we must — take as many Marines down with us as we can. By the ti we leave, none will dare pursue us."
With that, Marco turned away from Jozu and charged back into the fray.
---
In the plaza, Whitebeard stood before Akainu and Sengoku, all three locked in a rciless struggle. Each bore grave wounds: Whitebeard's head had been half-blown open by Akainu's magma fist, and two additional wounds bled across his body. Akainu himself was no better — his head bleeding, bruised from Whitebeard's ferocity. Sengoku fared only slightly better; he had a thin trail of blood running from his forehead and nose.
Whitebeard coughed blood thickly, his strength waning, and he half-kneaded to the ground. Sensing his mont, Akainu gasped for breath but sneered coldly, "No matter how monstrous you are, Whitebeard, enduring all our attacks isn't easy, is it?"
Whitebeard did not respond. Instead, he stared at Akainu with a chilling calm, a look that made even the hardened Marine flinch — he'd already felt the bone-deep terror of that gaze. Even on the brink of collapse, Whitebeard fought with reckless abandon. Akainu, brave but not foolish, recognized when to strike and when to hesitate. He understood that any reckless move now could cost everything.
Sengoku wiped at his brow, blood mingling with sweat, and spoke with icy resolve, "Accept your fate, Whitebeard. You have lost. Your pirates have lost. Even if we take heavy losses today, the Whitebeard Pirates will be eliminated."
Whitebeard's defiant laughter cracked the air, harsh and broken, "You ask to surrender? This old man never ca to Marineford expecting to return alive. Even in death, I will drag this fortress into the sea."
Murakumogiri crackled as white shockwaves began to swirl around him again.
Sengoku's eyes widened in alarm, and he shouted to Akainu, "Sakazuki, stop him! Don't let him destroy Marineford!"
Despite the raging battle, Akainu hesitated. From the beginning, he had led the charge — Sengoku rely supporting from the side. But rank, duty, and honor as a Marine forced him to obey. He steeled himself. With a roar, he thrust his magma fist toward Whitebeard's sword. The ground beneath them cracked, volcanic debris scattered wildly.
Seizing the mont, Sengoku exhaled and unleashed his own power, "Buddha's Impact!" A massive shockwave tore through the air and struck Whitebeard's chest. Internal organs shattered under the force.
Still, Whitebeard staggered, the living embodint of tenacity. With blood streaming down his face, he swung a fist toward Sengoku, roaring, "Move aside, Sengoku!"
A sharp clang echoed as Sengoku t the blow with steel, their fists colliding — but before Sengoku could respond, Akainu intercepted. The magma-clad punch caught Whitebeard's vibrating arm, redirecting the destructive force outward.
All three staggered back in unison, breathing heavily. Whitebeard panted like a dying beast; his body trembled, nearly unable to stand. Facing Akainu and Sengoku, realization washed over his face — he was utterly outmatched, despite sheer will and power.
Sengoku stared at him silently for a long mont before saying, "It seems you've reached your limit."
Akainu nodded, his eyes hard even as his chest heaved, "Yes. I believe he has."
They both kept their guard high, wary of a sudden lunge in desperation. But before anything could happen, a dark wave of malevolence hit Sengoku from behind. He spun around, shock turning to disbelief. On the shattered remains of the collapsed Justice Tower stood a group — unfamiliar figures, silhouetted by ruin and dust.
Recognition dawned on Sengoku. His face drained of color, and he snarled, "So it's you."
From the rubble erged Blackbeard, triumphant and cruel, standing tall among his crew. He looked down on Whitebeard with a mocking grin, "Zehahahahaha, long ti no see, old man. But look at you now — pathetic. Is this still the man I once respected?"
Whitebeard's eyes, full of pain and defiance, t Blackbeard's smug gaze. Around them, allies of the Whitebeard Pirates — and affiliated crews — clenched their teeth, anger burning in their eyes.
Just then, a fiendish chuckle echoed. Catarina Devon, the Crescent Moon Hunter, flicked her tongue and hissed in amusent, "Fufufufufu, isn't that Blackbeard? And what exactly is he doing here — with those prisoners behind him?"
Far below, Marines looked upward, disbelief written on their faces, "Those prisoners — they're all Level-6 inmates from Impel-down!"
Sengoku's expression darkened. The pieces clicked into place. Horror and betrayal flushed his face. He cried out, voice ragged, "Shiryu, how are you here? Where is Magellan? What have you done?"
From the shadows, Shiryu of the Rain stepped forward. His evil laugh echoed across the ruins. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku, does my presence not tell you everything? For now, I stand with these n."
---
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