Blackbeard's Recruitment

The density of the flames was suffocating; the entire sky was dyed orange-red, and even the clouds were steamed into white vapor by the high temperature.

His breathing became increasingly rapid, and the sweat on his forehead was evaporated by the flames surrounding him before it could even drip down. The muscles in his arms trembled slightly from the continuous high-intensity output.

But he still wouldn't stop.

The darkness swallowed all his attacks; each Fire Fist felt like hitting cotton—no feedback, no damage, no real sensation.

This is not right—his Observation Haki is frantically warning him, like a needle is constantly pricking the back of his head, but he can't explain where that unease comes from.

He thought of Natsu.

That black-haired Uchiha.

What did Natsu tell him back then?

"Blackbeard is far more complex than you see. You will die."

cut.

Ace gritted his teeth, pulled his hat brim down low, and unleashed an even more ferocious Fire Fist than before.

He knew, of course, that he might not be able to win.

If you can't win, should you just give up?

Killing Thatch tarnished Whitebeard's banner—if Portgas D. Ace doesn't seek revenge, he's not worthy of being Whitebeard's son.

Even if he were to die here today, he would burn a hole through Teach's laughing face.

"Fire Fist!!!"

Another fire dragon tore through the sky, more powerful, faster, and more decisive than any of the previous attacks.

Teach remained standing in the center of the darkness, arms outstretched, laughing as he welcomed the oncoming flames.

Darkness surged, and the fire dragon was once again silently swallowed. But in the last instant before the flames were completely consumed, Teach's laughter abruptly ceased.

A tongue of fire grazed his left arm.

It was just a fleeting moment, a mere brush against something.

A charred burn mark appeared on his plump arm, the skin curling up and revealing the pink flesh underneath.

Teach glanced down at his wound, a hint of surprise flashing in his single eye, before bursting into an even more maniacal laugh.

"Hahaha! Ouch! It hurts like hell! The Dark-Dark Fruit doubles the damage it absorbs, you know that, Captain Ace? That last hit really hurt!" He grimaced, cold sweat beading on his forehead, but his smile only grew wider.

"Looks like you weren't completely wasting your energy—but that's about it."

He raised his right hand, and darkness frantically gathered in his palm, stretching the surrounding light into distorted arcs, as if the air itself had been sucked out.

His single eye gleamed with undisguised murderous intent, yet his tone suddenly became incredibly sincere—a sincerity so blatantly fake:

"I'll ask you one last time, Captain Ace. Join me, work with me, and let's turn this boring world upside down."

With your strength, plus my Dark-Dark Fruit, the Four Emperors are nothing, and becoming the One Piece isn't out of the question. What do you say?"

Ace's response was to lower the brim of his hat with one hand and clench the other into a fist, compressing the flames to their maximum intensity, turning from orange-red to a blinding incandescent white.

He raised his head, and in his eyes beneath the brim of his hat, there was not a trace of hesitation, only an unwavering determination burning to the extreme.

"Enough talk. My head is yours to take if you dare."

Teach's maniacal laughter reached its peak at that moment.

Darkness and fire collided once again in the skies above Banaro Island, and the entire island trembled with each impact.

The sea area, spanning dozens of miles, was repeatedly crushed by two forces. Half of the sky was filled with orange-red fiery clouds, while the other half was shrouded in inky black darkness, creating an apocalyptic scene.

On the distant sea, several merchant ships that happened to be passing by were so frightened by this devastating sight that they frantically turned their rudders and fled the area without looking back.

No one dared to approach.

Nobody wants to die.

The battle has been going on for a day and a night.

The sky over Banaro Island was torn in two.

Half of it was a blazing, orange-red cloud of fire, rolling and roaring, illuminating the entire island as if it were daytime;

The other half was a thick, almost solid darkness, like ink spilled onto the sky, swallowing up even the faint light of the stars.

The two forces clashed repeatedly in the air above the island, each collision creating a visible shockwave that churned the sea for dozens of nautical miles around.

Several fishing boats that had strayed into this area were already shattered into pieces by the first wave of shockwaves, and along with the fishermen on board, were swallowed up silently by the waves.

The rest of the Blackbeard Pirates had retreated to the rocky outcrops at the edge of the island.

It's not that they don't want to get involved, but rather that there's no room for them to intervene on this battlefield anymore.

Van Augur held Senriku against a cracked, scorched rock, his eyes bloodshot beneath his mask.

His sniping position was forced to change no less than twenty times by Ace's rain of fire, leaving him with several burn marks on his body, and even the barrel of his beloved gun was slightly deformed.

Jesus Burgess leaned against a broken tree branch next to him, panting heavily. The leather armor on his chest had long been burned to charcoal, revealing his chest underneath, which was covered with blisters.

Lafitte's wings were covered in volcanic ash, his once white feathers now mottled with gray and black, and his cane was nowhere to be found.

Doc Q huddled in a cave at the farthest point, holding Stronger in his arms. His coughing grew more and more violent, each cough bringing up a drop of blood.

"That monster..." Jesus Burgess stared at the figure still raging in the distant sea of fire, his voice devoid of arrogance for the first time, replaced by an incredulous awe. "They've been fighting for a whole day and night, how does he still have the strength?"

No one answered him. Because they all knew the answer— Portgas D. Ace, the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, didn't get that position solely because of his Devil Fruit ability.

But answers are answers, and reality is reality.

The figure that had been burning in the center of the inferno for a day and a night finally began to sway.

Ace's breathing was no longer rapid, but broken.

Each inhale felt like it was pulling his lungs out of his throat, and each exhale carried a hot, metallic taste of blood.

His arms were trembling, not from exhaustion, but from the uncontrolled spasms that came from the muscle fibers being torn apart by continuous high-intensity output.

His lips were so cracked that they bled, then instantly dried by his own flames, leaving behind dark red scabs.

But he still wouldn't stop.