"Red-Hair..." Marco muttered, looking at the Red-Haired Pirates standing in the center.
His gaze then shifted to Whitebeard.
"What brings you here... Red-Hair?" Whitebeard asked, looking directly at Shanks.
Shanks scanned the surroundings. The devastation wasn't limited to Marineford itself; countless bodies floated in the sea. Because the entire field had fallen into a heavy silence, the groans of the wounded—both Marine and pirate—began to filter into everyone's ears.
Nodding toward Whitebeard, Shanks spoke slowly: "Don't continue this fight... Whitebeard."
Whitebeard took a deep look at him, and his lips curled into a smirk. "Gurararara..."
He didn't speak further, but his gaze remained fixed on the murderous Akainu.
Shanks took a few steady steps forward. His expression was calm, yet with every step he took, the Marines felt a physical layer of pressure being added to the atmosphere. At this mont, every eye was on him. The Conqueror's Haki radiating from his casual movents was overbearing, creating imnse psychological weight.
Even Whitebeard had to acknowledge that Shanks' Conqueror's Haki was exceptionally potent. This battlefield, which had shaken the entire world, now felt like a stage built specifically for Shanks' speech.
"Red-Hair... the man who led Luffy onto the path of piracy!" Garp said, his expression grave.
Sengoku and Whitebeard both waited for Shanks to state his true purpose. With the Red-Haired Pirates involved, it was impossible to continue the fight recklessly. The balance of power was gone! Whichever side Shanks favored would see their strength multiply instantly.
"Continuing to fight blindly... will only result in more casualties for both sides," Shanks said, pausing as he looked over the broken harbor before turning to continue his walk.
"If there is still anyone who hasn't had their fill of chaos..." Shanks stopped in front of his crew and gripped the hilt of his blade at his waist.
SHING!
He drew the long sword in a single, fluid motion. "Step forward. We will be your opponents!"
The fra froze as the entire Red-Haired Pirates ca into view. Their expressions were nonchalant, yet their unsheathed blades radiated a chilling, oppressive aura. Every one of them stood with an air of absolute confidence—like eagles unfurling their wings. That sheer majesty struck directly into the hearts of the Marines.
"Ugh..."
Countless Marines, without even being attacked, swallowed hard just from looking at the overwhelming aura of the crew. This mont was destined to be etched into history. It was pure, unadulterated power.
"My god..." Drake, who had just stepped out of the cabin, witnessed this historic mont. He swallowed several tis, trying to steady his racing heart.
After so ntal wrestling, he had decided to co out and see. This was Red-Haired Shanks! Among the Four Emperors, he was the youngest, yet he possessed what many considered the most powerful Conqueror's Haki in existence.
Thinking of this, Drake's thoughts raced as he slowly raised his right hand.
"Don't shake, dammit..." Drake muttered. He was shaking with excitent.
He wanted to use the Detector to see exactly what kind of level a "Top-Tier Conqueror" like Shanks occupied. This had been a massive debate among fans in his previous life, and now, he was about to witness the answer for himself.
Was there sothing special about Shanks' identity? Drake was dying to know.
He took a deep breath, staring fixedly at Shanks. He thought of Luffy's Straw Hat—the legacy passed from Shanks to the boy. One hat, one sea, and a story for the ages... that was the essence of a Pirate.
With a trembling hand and a pounding heart, he pressed the button.
Beep!
A string of data appeared on the Detector screen:
[Na]: Red-Haired Shanks [Cultivation]: Sword Saint [Haki]: Top-Tier Conqueror's, High-Level Armant, High-Level Observation [Combat Power Index]: 9,500
Drake stared at the information without blinking. His heart was a mix of awe and a strange sense of disappointnt. He was shocked that Shanks' cultivation had reached the Sword Saint level; in his experience, only the older legends—Garp, Sengoku, and Whitebeard—had achieved that tier.
The current "Greatest Military Powers," the three Admirals, were only at the Great Swordsman level, with only Akainu barely touching the threshold of a Sword Saint. Considering the Admirals were in their fifties (with Aokiji being slightly younger), it showed how difficult it was to reach that peak.
Drake realized that while he initially thought cultivation was purely about the accumulation of ti, that theory was clearly falling apart. Shanks was significantly younger than the others.
He then realized another point: this was just a comprehensive combat power test. If Shanks were to use a Conqueror's Infusion powered by his top-tier Haki, what would the output be? The thought made his skin crawl. The multiplier would likely be astronomical.
As Drake's thoughts drifted into the clouds, Shanks took another step forward.
He looked over the Marines, sensing that their will to fight was largely spent. Akainu slowly retracted his power, the rolling magma cooling as his body returned to human form. Sengoku stepped off his warship and onto the cracked dock.
Clang.
Shanks sheathed his sword and looked toward the Whitebeard Pirates. Most of them had lowered their heads in sorrow. This war had claid so many lives. How many brothers and friends they had laughed and drank with were now buried in the ice of Marineford or the depths of the sea?
Victory or defeat were just labels at the top. For the n on the ground, they only wanted to save those beside them.
War was cruel—not just to one person, but to everyone.
So pirates couldn't hold back their tears. On the battlefield, they were warriors; off it, they were humans of flesh and blood who felt grief and pain.
Countless n leaned on each other for support. Across the plaza, Marines and pirates lay side-by-side in the dirt. At this mont, not just the soldiers, but the Marine officers and the Whitebeard Commanders were silent. Many were weeping openly.
The cara seed to shift through every angle of the devastation. Standing amidst the ruins, Shanks' charisma was absolute. He addressed every soul present:
"Everyone here... I'll ask you to grant this favor!"
"The war ends now!"
Shanks' voice snapped Drake out of his daze. He looked at the man who had beco the focus of the entire world with a sense of profound awe.
This was the power of the "Favor-Favor Fruit!"
With a single sentence, he had halted a global conflict. On this sea, who would dare not grant Red-Haired Shanks a favor?
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