Whitebeard

"You've gotten a lot stronger," Swain said admiringly.

The sea churned beneath a howling wind, yet Swain's steady, powerful voice rang clear through the din.

Ace still seemed to struggle against Swain, but that was because Swain had reached a terrifying level of strength. Even Whitebeard would not have beaten him. Swain stood like an insurmountable mountain, his power enough to inspire awe.

"I'll take that as a joke," Ace said with an easy smile. There was no trace of resentment or anger on his face.

Being thrashed by Swain in public had not enraged him. He was simply glad to see a friend. On this sea of danger and uncertainty, true friendship could shine brightest amid the fiercest clashes.

"You still need to train your Haki. It isn't sharp enough," Swain pointed out. When Ace had unleashed his Haki, it had surged like a ferocious beast. But it was nothing like Red-Haired Shanks's: wherever Shanks went, those with weak wills collapsed. His Haki was an invisible pressure that filled the air. Swain, by contrast, controlled his so well that the nearby crew felt nothing. They only wondered why Captain Ace had suddenly stopped attacking and started talking to him.

To them, even if Swain was one of the Four Emperors, surely he could not have frightened their captain pale.

They had no idea it was not fear, but mutual respect and an honest exchange between powerful fighters.

Fortunately, the two did not keep fighting. The crew breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing they wanted was to suffer while monsters like these battled.

Seeing that the mood was friendly, Ace joked, "Did you come to have a drink with Pops today?"

Swain knew at once that Whitebeard's illness must have improved—dramatically, or Ace would not have said that.