Onigashima battlefield.
All eyes fell on Ace.
Roger's bloodline—those words were like an invisible blade, slicing through the brief silence on the battlefield.
Ace stood frozen, his face pale. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to explain something.
But when the words reached his lips, they became weak and hollow.
Explain?
Explain that he was not Roger's son?
Explain that he had not inherited that man's will?
Explain that he was merely someone who wanted to survive?
But this world had never seriously listened to his explanations.
That name was too heavy. Once it fell upon someone, it could crush the breath from them.
Just as Ace stood at a loss, Deuce suddenly stepped forward.
He stood beside Ace, his face just as pale, but his feet did not retreat even half a step.
"He's just Ace!"
Deuce gritted his teeth. His voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear.
"He's our captain!"
"He's Fire Fist of the Spade Adventure Group!"
Ace abruptly looked at him.
Deuce did not turn around. He simply stood there like a wall—not tall or imposing, but steadfast enough.
The members of the Spade Adventure Group froze for a moment, then walked over one after another.
Some were still wounded. Some had blood smeared across their faces. Some were even swaying on their feet.
Yet they still stood behind Ace.
There were no grand declarations, no impassioned speeches. They merely stood there.
That carried more weight than any words.
"Captain is captain."
"Who cares whose son he is?"
"The one we know is Ace, not Roger!"
Voices rose one after another, neither orderly nor loud.
Yet they were like tiny sparks, burning back into Ace's frozen chest.
Yamato also looked at Ace.
Her gaze remained complicated, but her voice was clear.
"Didn't