The final blow that would decide the course of an era lasted only an instant.
When the light and sound that had swallowed everything finally receded like a tide, the two men landed back on Marineford.
At that moment, everyone across Marineford, and everyone watching the outcome through Den Den Mushi, held their breath.
Clatter.
The faint sound rang out with startling clarity in the deathly silence.
The bloodstained Black Blade: Eight Desolations was pulled free and fell to the ground.
It lay there quietly, the destructive energy that had coiled around it already dispersed, its deep black color restored.
Not far from it, Edward Newgate, Whitebeard, still stood.
He was no longer the "World's Strongest" at his peak, with golden hair flying wildly, bulging muscles, and Haki soaring into the heavens.
He had returned to his original appearance, his enormous body bearing the marks of age and illness.
His hands were empty. At some point, Murakumogiri had been planted blade-first in the ground beside him.
His face was pale and gray with exhaustion, his breathing faint. Only his eyes remained deep and clear, gazing calmly ahead.
"Why?" Gern forced the trembling word through clenched teeth.
He stared fixedly at Whitebeard, his eyes filled with incomprehension and refusal to accept it.
"Why?!"
His voice suddenly rose into an uncontrollable roar that echoed across the silent battlefield.
"Why was Roger like this?! Why are you like this too?!"
Gern staggered a step forward, as though all his strength had deserted him, yet still demanding an answer.
"Why can't I win?! Why?! Why does it happen like this every time?!"
The authority of a Fleet Admiral, the dominion of G-10, the blueprint for a new era... at that moment, all of it vanished into smoke.
Because the most primal, most burning desire