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The sudden shift in aura made everyone in the Whitebeard Pirates' group turn their attention to the red-haired man. His eyes also changed, as if receiving an unspoken signal from their captain. Many members instinctively drew their weapons, standing ready.
Observing the tense atmosphere, the red-haired crew mirrored the response. Though surrounded and deep in enemy territory, they showed no signs of hesitation or fear.
Whitebeard, the source of the escalating tension, finally broke the silence. His voice was slow but carried immense weight:
"Do you understand what you're saying?"
"It's because I understand that I've come here." Shanks's expression didn't falter, his tone calm but firm, like a man aiming to mediate:
"If this is just about the incident at Fish-Man Island, there's no need for you and Wanokuni to come into conflict."
He hesitated briefly, then added:
"And as for the Flying Admiral and the situation with Fish-Man Island back then—"
Boom!
A loud crash cut Shanks off mid-sentence.
Whitebeard had hurled his sake jug aside with enough force to send it rolling across the deck. Yet, the ceramic didn't shatter. Instead, it tumbled a few times, spilling most of its precious contents.
"You stand before me and speak only because you're the captain of your crew," Whitebeard growled. "But don't mistake that for permission to lecture me about your so-called truth!"
As his words fell, a terrifying wave of Conqueror's Haki erupted from Whitebeard, aimed squarely at Shanks.
Shanks didn't retreat. Instead, he unleashed his own overwhelming Conqueror's Haki in response.
The two titanic auras clashed violently.
The entire Moby Dick seemed to groan under the pressure. Time itself felt frozen as their Haki collided, shaking the ship to its core. Many of the weaker crew members collapsed unconscious, unable to endure the force. Only the most seasoned and strong-willed veterans of Whitebeard's crew managed to remain standing.
"That guy… he also has Conqueror's Haki?!"
The murmurs spread through the Whitebeard Pirates. Even those who had seen their share of the New World were visibly shaken.
What was even more shocking was that Shanks's Haki could hold its ground against Whitebeard's for so long.
Crack!
The solid wood along the ship's sides splintered under the immense pressure, a testament to the raw power of their clash. The very air between them seemed to ripple as their wills battled for dominance.
Whitebeard narrowed his eyes in slight surprise. For someone as young as Shanks to have mastered such potent Conqueror's Haki was unexpected. But his surprise quickly faded into a knowing smirk. After all, Alex—the Shogun of Wanokuni—was around the same age and was far more terrifying in comparison.
The sea was vast, and monsters were never in short supply.
But Whitebeard was a king among monsters.
"You've mastered Conqueror's Haki, brat," Whitebeard declared, his voice like thunder. "Then you should know the inviolable bottom line among kings! And never forget—I am Whitebeard!"
With those words, Whitebeard hefted his massive Morakumogiri, and swung it toward Shanks.
Shanks swiftly drew his saber, Gryphon, meeting Whitebeard's attack head-on. His voice was grave but resolute:
"If this keeps escalating, it'll spark an era of chaos that no one can control! As captain, I refuse to let that happen!"
At the moment their blades collided, the tremendous force of their Haki clashing burst forth, sending a shockwave roaring into the sky!
The impact created a fierce, howling gust of wind, so powerful that it swept many of those nearby off their feet, scattering them like leaves in a storm.
Seeing this, Jozu growled angrily:
"That damned red-haired man! He actually dared to strike at Pops! Is he trying to start a war with us?"
Marco's tone was grave as he replied:
"If it comes to that, no one will leave here alive."
The captains of the various divisions aboard the Moby Dick fixed their hostile glares on the red-haired crew, their tension palpable.
For Shanks and his men, the situation had grown dire, teetering on the brink of disaster. But just as it seemed the hostility might boil over, the violent clash of aura between the two titans suddenly ceased, drawing everyone's attention back to the center of the confrontation.
The fight had ended as quickly as it had begun.
Standing tall and unshaken was Whitebeard, while Shanks, though seated on the deck and visibly disheveled, retained his firm and unyielding gaze.
As they locked eyes, their intense stares collided in the void like invisible blades, sparks seemingly flickering between them.
Shanks spoke first, his tone sincere, almost pleading:
"Whatever your decision, Whitebeard, I hope you'll carefully consider my suggestion. I'm not asking you to abandon revenge entirely—I only ask that you delay it. No one can predict the chaos and upheaval that the New World will suffer if you act rashly."
The red-haired pirate rose slowly from the deck, steadying himself. His voice carried a quiet determination:
"I don't know if Captain Roger foresaw these unexpected events, but one thing is certain—the uncontrollable spiral of violence must end here."
With the battlefield cleared by the force of their Conqueror's Haki, Shanks spoke more openly now, unafraid to say what needed to be said.
Since returning to Windmill Village in the East Blue, Shanks had entrusted the Rubber-Rubber Fruit to fate. He had staked his hopes on a new era, one embodied by the young Luffy.
In Shanks's heart, he had already made his decision.
In the future, during the prophesied era of change, the Straw Hat would pass into the hands of the one destined to fulfill the expectations of Joy Boy, as envisioned by Captain Roger himself.
And until that day came, Shanks was determined to keep the New World from descending into irreversible chaos.
Whitebeard listened silently to Shanks's words, the meaning clear in his tone. Slowly, he hefted his massive naginata, and spun it like a windmill in his hands. The powerful gust generated by the motion swirled around his feet as he drove the blade into the deck with a deafening crash.
"This fight…" Whitebeard rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl, "I won't let it escalate into an all-out war. I'm not that reckless."
The tension seemed to ease slightly, but Whitebeard's gaze hardened, his words laced with steel:
"But! No matter the reason, that bastard Alex dared to provoke me on my territory! This won't end quietly!"
Whitebeard's pride burned bright in his voice. He had no concrete proof of the true events of Raftel, but he understood enough from Roger's character to piece together some of the truth.
Even so, his pride as Whitebeard—the strongest man in the world—and his duty as a father to his crew could not be ignored.
If he couldn't defend his name and his family against those who challenged him, then his strength and his protection as a father would be meaningless.
Hearing Whitebeard's unyielding response, Shanks sighed. He had failed to completely avert the confrontation between Whitebeard and Alex. However, as long as this didn't escalate into a full-scale war, the damage could still be contained.
If Whitebeard were to fall into this conflict, the New World would shift irreparably. Alex's forces would dominate, and Shanks couldn't allow such a future to unfold.
Shanks cast a long, meaningful look at Whitebeard before turning away. Once someone at Whitebeard's level had made up their mind, there was no persuading them otherwise. Continuing the discussion would only invite further blows.
He strode purposefully toward the edge of the deck, heading for the stairs. However, as he reached the end, something caught his attention.
The sun, shining brightly in the distance, was suddenly obscured.
Shanks frowned and turned his head, looking out toward the horizon. What he saw made his eyes widen in shock.
Massive islands—floating in the sky—were slowly descending, advancing toward their location.