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It wasn't until the blinding brilliance faded that everyone could turn their attention back to the battlefield on Sky Island.
"Father! How could this be?!"
The Whitebeard Pirates stared in disbelief.
Only a narrow strip of land, no more than tens of meters across, remained intact. Their invincible father—the pillar of their world—was kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, using Murakumogiri for support. His iconic crescent-moon beard was fractured, one section broken clean off, and his body looked as though he had risen from a crimson pool of blood.
Blood dripped from every part of him, painting a harrowing image.
For the crew, Whitebeard had always been like a god. Even during their battles alongside him against the Pirate King, they had never seen him in such a state.
In stark contrast, Alex stood tall. His body bore multiple wounds, many of them bleeding, but his injuries were far less severe compared to Whitebeard's. Though battered, he looked leagues better off.
The ultimate clash had taken its toll on both warriors. Alex's body, though marked with scars, had endured the aftermath better than Whitebeard's. The decisive factor lay in Alex's ability to channel his consciousness into minimizing his weaknesses, bolstering his defenses while maximizing his counterattacks.
The battlefield itself lay in ruins. The ground had been utterly annihilated by the ferocious energy unleashed in their duel. Despite sustaining injuries, Alex had achieved what he intended—bringing the battle to a swift conclusion.
In this moment, no words were needed to determine the victor.
Yet Whitebeard's gaze, fierce and unrelenting, remained fixed on Alex. Though his body was failing, his spirit was undiminished. Like a cornered beast refusing to submit, his eyes burned with defiance. The battle, it seemed, was not yet over.
"The victory has been decided," Alex declared calmly. His tone carried the weight of finality as he sheathed Akizakura at his side. The blood-red aura surrounding him faded as he released the Ultimate Form. "Whitebeard, the title of the strongest… I will take it from here."
Whitebeard's booming voice cut through the tension, rough and unyielding. "I haven't lost yet, you brat! Who the hell do you think I am?!"
Despite his injuries, Whitebeard gripped Murakumogiri tightly, using it as leverage to rise to his full height. Blood trickled down his battered body, but his presence remained colossal, an indomitable force against the odds.
Alex, however, made no move to strike again. He had no intention of pushing Whitebeard further—not to the point of unconsciousness, let alone death.
From the beginning, Alex had a different plan. He intended to use Whitebeard's reputation and influence as a bridge to transition his own power and strategy. There was no need to destroy the man entirely.
Looking directly at Whitebeard, Alex's voice was calm but sharp as a blade. "I have no doubt of your strength, nor the power of a final counterattack," he said. "But if your so-called sons lose the protection of your banner in this era, do you really think they'll survive? Without you, they'll be picked apart and destroyed."
Whitebeard's response was not words, but action.
His Conqueror's Haki erupted, flooding the battlefield with his overwhelming presence. The sea roared in response, waves surging across thousands of meters and crashing like thunder. The force rushed toward Alex with the weight of a storm, as though to crush him where he stood.
Yet Alex remained unshaken.
Afterward, Alex chuckled lightly. The fragmented stones beneath his feet multiplied and expanded, forming a landmass resembling the size and structure of the Moby Dick. Moments later, Hancock and Yamato, who had returned from the battlefield, joined him in the floating domain.
As Alex and his group gradually ascended and disappeared into the sky, Whitebeard watched in silence. He made no further moves or remarks. His mind churned with thoughts of the family he had built over decades, his beloved sons, the title of the strongest in the world, and the pride of a man who had once ruled the seas.
In his heart, Whitebeard made his decision.
Although his injuries were severe, they did not prevent him from moving. His body vibrated faintly, shaking off the terrifying blood and residual energy that lingered around him.
"Daddy!"
The battle's conclusion was clear. When Whitebeard returned to the deck of the Moby Dick, battered and bloodied, Marco wasted no time rushing to his side. Standing before him, Marco took in the sight of his father's wounds, his expression filled with concern.
"It's just a scratch," Whitebeard said gruffly, waving Marco off as the latter attempted to examine him. "Don't fuss over an old man like me."
Despite Whitebeard's casual dismissal, his condition was anything but trivial. His crescent-moon beard was broken, and his body bore countless scars, both large and small. A jagged, prominent wound marred his back and torso, while smaller cuts riddled his frame. To anyone watching, it was clear his injuries were beyond severe.
Even Red-Haired Shanks, observing from a distance, couldn't help but look on with concern. Although the battle hadn't escalated into a full-scale war, Whitebeard's clash with Alex had pushed him to the brink. Still, Shanks knew that Whitebeard's life, for now, was not in immediate danger.
Meanwhile, far from the battlefield, Alex had returned to Wanokuni.
Surrounded by the lush, vibrant lands of his domain, Alex found himself being tended to by Hancock and Yamato. Despite their unwavering trust in his strength, both women knew that the legendary Whitebeard was no ordinary opponent.
Instead of relying on the souls collected from the remnants of the Whitebeard Pirates and Totto Land, Hancock commanded Anubis to use those souls to heal Alex's injuries.
Yamato, anxious to help, tried to channel her electric recovery ability, but Alex stopped her with a wave of his hand.
"My injuries aren't nearly as bad as Whitebeard's," Alex reassured her, his tone steady. "There's no need for such extreme measures here."
Although the soul-based recovery provided by Hancock was highly effective, Alex noted its limitations—it consumed a vast number of souls, making it a less practical option compared to Yamato's electricity-based method. But Wanokuni, unlike Totto Land, had no need to create cannon fodder like Homies, meaning Hancock had an abundance of soul resources at her disposal.
Under Hancock's triumphant smile, Yamato reluctantly stepped back. Puffing out her cheeks in frustration, she eventually leaned in closer when Alex motioned for her.
With one hand resting on Hancock's shoulder and the other ruffling Yamato's hair, Alex gazed out at the horizon from the flying island. His voice was soft but resolute.
"The final goal of the New World has been achieved," Alex murmured. "Now, there's only one thing left: to conquer the pinnacle."
The next objective was far greater than defeating Whitebeard. It was the ultimate prize—the overthrow of the World Government, which had ruled the seas for 800 years, and the claim to the throne of the King of the World.
"Lord Alex will undoubtedly become the King of the World," Hancock said, her voice brimming with admiration. She reached for his hand, her fingers tracing small circles over his palm.
"And now, as the strongest man in the world," she continued dreamily, "it's clear that my lord and I are a match made in heaven!"
Hancock's cheeks flushed as she covered her face, lost in her fantasies. She, hailed as the most beautiful woman in the world, believed herself the perfect partner for the strongest man alive.
But her daydream was short-lived.
"Alex! Now that Whitebeard's settled, let's play that fun game Maria mentioned the other day!" Yamato exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement.
"Yamato!" Hancock's voice immediately rose in outrage, her teeth grinding in frustration.
The banter between the two women continued, their personalities clashing as always. Alex simply watched with an amused expression, his focus momentarily shifting from the grand ambitions of the future to the lively chaos of the present.