Repercussions

The waves churned, and Whitebeard's pirate ship slowly steadied itself amid the lingering aftershocks.

Marco folded his wings of blue flame and landed firmly beside Whitebeard, a trace of confusion and worry creasing his brow.

"Pops!" he couldn't help asking. "You could've pulverized that warship with that last slash. Why did you hold back?"

"Hmm?" Whitebeard planted Murakumogiri on the deck and burst into his signature laugh at the question.

"Gurararara! Marco, didn't you hear him just now?"

"When that brat gave us his name, he said..."

"That his name, 'Gern,' would one day ring out across the seas!" Whitebeard repeated, his eyes flashing and his voice booming like a bell.

"So... I'm looking forward to it! But what surprised me even more was that his strength was on par with mine when I was young."

Seeing Pops wearing the same excited expression he'd had when he'd taken him in as a son, Marco's eyelid twitched. An ominous premonition rose in his chest.

He instinctively rubbed his temple, his voice filled with resignation. "Hey, hey... Pops, don't tell me you're..."

Marco took a deep breath, then practically groaned out the answer. "Thinking of making that Marine your son?!"

"..."

The moment Marco said it, the air froze.

Whitebeard's hearty smile stiffened, then gave way to the embarrassment of someone caught red-handed.

He stroked his signature crescent mustache and threw his head back, laughing in an attempt to cover it up. "Gurararara! You saw right through me, brat!"

"Pops!" Marco rolled his eyes dramatically, his voice thick with helplessness.

"I knew it! Every time you see an interesting rookie, this habit of yours kicks in!"

Whitebeard paid no mind to Marco's exasperated expression.

Instead, he enthusiastically clapped Marco on the shoulder. "What? Jealous? Don't worry. You'll always be my finest son!"

Marco swatted his hand away with a look of disgust. "Who's jealous?!

"I'm saying that guy's a Marine! A Marine!

"And he's a monster rookie who could meet you head-on in a clash of strength and Devil Fruit powers alone, without any Haki!

"Besides, his Devil Fruit power really does resemble..."

"Ah!" Whitebeard interrupted Marco with a broad grin, then gazed out over the distant sea.

"So what if he's a Marine? Didn't that bastard Roger serve as a Marine too?"

"Gurararara! As long as his heart belongs to the sea, someday..."

"Roger just put on a Marine uniform on a whim when he raided a Marine Base!"

"Huh?!" Whitebeard froze. "Is that how it happened?"

"By the way, Marco, do you believe in fate?"

"Pops, you haven't even had anything to drink today!"

"Gurararara!" Whitebeard waved a hand. "Same difference!"

"And I really am looking forward to seeing what that Marine brat Gern does!"

Seeing Pops like that, Marco could only shake his head helplessly, though the corners of his mouth curled upward despite himself.

"Honestly... there's just no dealing with you."

With that, Marco turned toward the ship's rail, ready to repair the damaged deck.

But the instant Marco turned his back and looked away...

The smile vanished from Whitebeard's face, replaced by a deep solemnity.

His rugged brows knitted tightly, and his piercing gaze fixed on the turbulent sea.

"That blade..." In his mind, he could clearly see the double-edged blade in Gern's hand, its body as black as an abyss and its surface covered in dark red cracks.

Aside from the vibration particles coiling around the blade, there were those distinctive dark red cracks.

And that familiar, all-devouring oppressive presence forged by Rocks's Haki...

"There's no mistaking it..." Whitebeard's low voice was almost inaudible, laden with shock and conflicting emotions.

That was Rocks's sword!!

The overlord who had once ruled the seas, the man who had made even the World Government tremble-Rocks D. Zebek!

"Why... is it in that Marine brat's hands?"

Whitebeard's fist tightened involuntarily, and Murakumogiri's shaft gave a faint hum in his grip.

Countless possibilities flashed through his mind, but in the end, Whitebeard merely sighed deeply, a complicated emotion flickering in his eyes.

"Still, what an irony, Rocks..."

"From beginning to end, you hated the Marines and the World Government more than anyone.

"Yet now, your blade is starting to shake the seas in a Marine's hands..."

Three days later, in the infirmary aboard the Marine warship.

Lying in bed, wrapped in bandages, Gern slowly opened his eyes as the smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils.

The dull aches throughout his body reminded him of that earth-shaking clash not long ago.

He tried moving his fingers. Good. They still worked.

"Too reckless..."

Now awake, Gern stared at the ceiling and calmly reviewed what had happened.

He had actually dared to meet Whitebeard head-on while the man was in his prime. He had practically gambled with his life.

Fortunately, it had been Whitebeard. Had he run into someone as vicious as Golden Lion,

his opponent would never have held back, and he would already be a corpse.

But soon, a sharp smile curled at the corners of Gern's mouth.

Still, he had won that gamble.

Just then, deliberately hushed voices drifted in from outside the cabin door.

"Did you hear? Second Lieutenant Gern traded blows with Whitebeard for three whole rounds!"

"That's not all! I saw Whitebeard acknowledge him with my own eyes!"

"He's definitely going to be an Admiral someday..."

"I think the Second Lieutenant is even stronger than those three monster rookies at Headquarters!"

As Gern listened to their discussion, his gaze grew increasingly profound.

Compared with his so-called "achievements" of wiping out small-fry pirates in the West Blue, this battle was a feat that could truly make his name ring out across the seas.

Those Marines from Headquarters had witnessed it firsthand. The news would spread through Marineford like wildfire.

At that thought, Gern slowly sat up. Black Blade: Eight Desolations rested beside his bed, its blade reflecting his sharp gaze.

"Air Quake Gern..." Gern picked up Black Blade: Eight Desolations with practiced ease and began wrapping its blade in white cloth.

From this day onward, that epithet would establish his name. It would no longer be the hollow title of "Pirate Hunter" from the West Blue,

but the designation of a truly powerful fighter-acknowledged by the World Government, Marine Headquarters, and every great pirate!

"Without any backing, my reputation is another form of capital, another source of power." Finishing the last wrap, Gern clenched his fist.

Since he had chosen to enter the grand chess game of the Marines, he needed to establish a sufficiently high starting point early on.

The report on this battle was surely already sitting on the Fleet Admiral's desk.

The officers who might originally have resented his direct assignment to Headquarters, given his West Blue origins and lack of schooling in the Naval Academy's ideals of justice,

were probably all reassessing this "rookie" from the West Blue now.

"But it's still not enough..." Gern gazed at the rolling waves beyond the porthole.

Whitebeard's final slash, cloaked in devastating Conqueror's Haki infusion, was branded deep into Gern's mind, replaying over and over.

That level of unstoppable might, that power that looked down upon the world...

"Heh... I really can't wait to get Haki!"