Whitebeard Pirates Retreat

"Farewell... my sons!!!"

Whitebeard's final farewell was like an invisible shockwave, carrying all a father's love and sacrifice as it slammed fiercely into the hearts of every Whitebeard Pirates member.

It was not an order, but a last testament written with his life, the final path to survival paved with his flesh and blood.

On the deck of the Moby Dick, Ace, who had just been thrown back aboard, was struck as if by lightning the moment he heard those words.

He looked toward that back facing an army alone, and his tears instantly burst forth.

"Old man—! No—!"

He roared and struggled, trying to rush off the ship.

Even if his hands were bound by Sea Stone.

Even if there was a mountain of blades and a sea of flames ahead.

He still wanted to return to his old man's side.

But his crewmates held him down tightly.

"Captain Ace! You can't go!"

"Old man... Old man did this so we could live!"

Those words cut into Ace's heart like knives. He roared in agony and struggled, but could not break free from the "cage" his companions had built with their bodies.

Beside the ruins of the execution platform, Marco, who had just struggled to his feet and was covered in blood, began to tremble violently when he heard that farewell and final order to retreat.

He gritted his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums, barely holding back his sorrowful sobs.

He was the commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' First Division.

He could not fall apart.

He had to become the pillar of support at this moment, the standard-bearer who would carry out his old man's will.

Marco abruptly raised his head, his eyes burning with utter pain and equally absolute resolve.

"Everyone—!"

Blue flames blazed