His low, calm voice spread, ringing throughout Marineford.
Everyone on the battlefield turned to look at that figure.
"River!"
Garp murmured, his expression conflicted.
"Admiral!"
Bagu, Promi, and the others seemed to realize something. Their gazes sharpened, and they tightened their grips on their weapons.
"Pops!"
Marco and the others wept. They could feel that the man they knew so well had stopped breathing.
"Finally ready to drop your disguise?"
Akainu said coldly.
His eyes stayed fixed on the figure before him. The man's intentions were becoming clearer and clearer. As Whitebeard's presence faded, he seemed to have no intention of hiding them any longer.
His earlier words and the imposing air he now exuded both carried an unusual significance.
Whoooosh!
A cold wind swept past, stirring up ice shavings over the Inner Bay and scattering them through the air.
River raised his head and looked at Whitebeard, who stood opposite him as though still alive. After a brief silence, he stepped forward and walked past him.
The wind howled in his ears. Whitebeard stood there quietly, utterly motionless, like an unshakable mountain. Even after his breathing had ceased, he had not fallen.
His jaw was broken, and nearly all the ribs, muscles, and organs inside his body had been shattered. Blood kept dripping down his body, soon forming a frozen pool.
After his battle with River, his wounds were beyond counting. Blood covered his skin, and everything inside had been crushed, leaving only a frame that still appeared intact.
What had sustained him in battle was not that aged body, riddled with ailments, but his unyielding will and his determination to save his son, his family.
Everyone grew old eventually, but this old man, Whitebeard, was destined to be remembered by the world, never forgotten.
Everyone would remember that