Just as Marco was cutting through marines, almost enjoying the steady stream of attribute points pouring in, several figures suddenly appeared behind him.
Fossa, Captain of the Fifteenth Division, and Izo, Captain of the Sixteenth, approached with a few of their n. They paused when they saw Marco—his clothes soaked in blood, his presence icy and oppressive, completely unlike his usual laid-back self.
"Marco," Fossa asked, frowning, "why did you suddenly switch to using a pistol and a short sword?"
Marco glanced at them and gave a brief smile.
"To conserve stamina."
Both Fossa and Izo were montarily stunned.
"But shouldn't we be pushing straight into the plaza and rescuing Ace?" Fossa pressed.
"That's impossible." Marco shook his head and looked toward the execution platform. "Look carefully. The Three Admirals, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, and Navy Hero Garp haven't even made a move."
"Even if we force our way into the plaza, we won't reach Ace. They're deliberately letting us burn stamina against fodder first. That's exactly what we can't afford."
Marco's gaze hardened.
"Admirals aren't enemies you can fight while exhausted."
"…I see." Fossa nodded slowly. Though both were division commanders, the gap between his strength and Marco's was undeniable.
Izo, however, looked uneasy.
"But this can't go on forever. The Marines brought one hundred thousand elite soldiers and the Seven Warlords against us. Even counting our forty-three allied crews, we barely have fifty thousand n."
Marco fell silent.
There was no argunt to refute that.
In this war, timing, terrain, and manpower all favored the Marines. From the very beginning, the Whitebeard Pirates were fighting uphill—desperately so.
"This was a do-or-die battle from the start," Marco said quietly.
With that, he said no more. Instead, he surged forward again, charging straight toward the densest cluster of Marines.
'If I want to change the outco', he thought grimly, 'then the only way is to kill more enemies and grow stronger—fast.'
Izo and Fossa exchanged a glance, then followed him into the fray.
—
At that mont, a figure stepped forward from the Marine side.
Dracule Mihawk—the world's strongest swordsman.
His movent imdiately drew the attention of the Three Admirals and the other Shichibukai.
Doflamingo turned his head, eyes narrowing. Among all the Warlords, Mihawk was the only one he truly feared.
"Oh?" Doflamingo sneered. "You're actually planning to make a move? That doesn't sound like you."
Mihawk's golden eyes remained cold and distant. He didn't even bother looking at Doflamingo.
"I simply wish to see," he said calmly, "how great the gap still is between myself… and the world's strongest man."
With that, Mihawk drew the Black Blade Yoru from his back.
A single, overwhelming slash tore through the air, racing straight toward Whitebeard.
Before it could reach its target, a massive figure stepped forward.
Jozu.
The instant Mihawk moved, the Whitebeard Pirates had already reacted. Jozu's body transford into gleaming diamond as he intercepted the attack head-on, blocking the slash with sheer solidity—and then hurling it skyward.
The clash sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield.
The true monsters had begun to move.
"It's Diamond Jozu…"
"The Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' Third Division…"
Even on the Marine side, voices rose in instinctive recognition.
Whitebeard took in the scene calmly. Though a faint smile still rested on his lips, his gaze had grown heavy.
"Seems the Marines truly ca prepared this ti…" he murmured. "This battlefield is far more deadlocked than I expected."
Within Crescent Bay, the Whitebeard Pirates were at a crushing nurical disadvantage. Their core crew numbered barely over sixteen hundred. Even after bypassing the outer warship encirclent by subrging underwater—a brilliant tactical maneuver—the Marines stationed in the plaza still outnumbered them by more than twenty to one.
That disparity weighed on Whitebeard's mind.
"Damn it! Don't fight the division commanders one-on-one!"
"Marco killed Rear Admirals Ur and Til!"
"Stop him—don't let him slaughter any more Marines!"
After Marco cut down hundreds of Marines in rapid succession, the Navy finally reacted. Several Rear Admirals converged on him at once.
Five of them ford a tight encirclent.
They all understood the sa truth—facing a pirate with a bounty exceeding one billion Berries in single combat was suicide. Only by joining forces did they stand a chance.
"Five Rear Admirals, huh?" Marco curled his lips into a confident grin. "That's a little troubleso."
Then his eyes sharpened.
"But if I can't even deal with a handful of Rear Admirals… how am I supposed to face an Admiral later?"
Without hesitation, Marco dumped over nine hundred accumulated attribute points straight into Strength.
Strength: 5402.
The surge was imdiate. Power flooded his limbs, his muscles tightening with newfound force.
He checked his evaluation.
Yonko Commander Level.
Still unchanged.
Marco clicked his tongue in mild disappointnt, then shifted his gaze to the five n before him.
Weak Captain Level.
Weak Captain Level.
Strong Vice-Captain Level.
Weak Captain Level.
Vice-Captain Level.
"…Got it."
Marco exhaled sharply and roared, "Alright—co on!"
Blue flas erupted across his body.
In the next instant, he fully entered his hybrid form and shot forward like a blazing cot.
"Phoenix Seal!"
His kick slamd into one rear admiral with terrifying speed. Though the man raised his guard, the impact sent him flying.
The remaining four reacted instantly, their blades flashing as they slashed through Marco's wings—cleanly severing them.
But before they could even breathe—
Blue flas surged.
Marco's wings regenerated in an instant.
"The first one…" Marco muttered coldly.
He stomped down on the fallen Rear Admiral, pinning him in place. The short blade in his hand plunged straight into the man's eye.
Death was instantaneous.
"Rear Admiral Katz—!"
The remaining four stiffened in shock. Panic flickered across their faces.
"Next," Marco said flatly.
He kicked Katz's corpse toward them.
One of the Rear Admirals—perhaps a close comrade—instinctively caught the body.
That was his mistake.
Blue flas gathered around Marco's hands, condensing into burning spheres.
"Azure Fla."
The fireballs slamd into Katz's corpse, detonating in a burst of searing blue fire.
"You despicable pirate!" one rear admiral roared. "Don't you dare desecrate our comrade's body!"
The remaining three surged forward, sabers flashing as they desperately parried the incoming flas.
And in that brief opening—Marco vanished.
He reappeared directly in front of them, claws wreathed in blue fire.
"Phoenix Claw!"
The slaughter continued.
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