"The remains of Saint Saturn..."
"We'll deal with it after the war," Saint Shepherd Ju Peter's voice was hoarse and low.
His gaze fell on the head still lying on the ice. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.
Meanwhile, Akainu was still trying to give chase in the direction of the port, but Shanks appeared in front of him.
Gryphon's blade was still pointed at his nose.
" Red Hair."
Akainu's voice suppressed his anger.
"You're just a pirate, what gives you the right—"
"Because I'm standing here."
Shanks interrupted him, his voice not loud, but every word was like a nail driven into Akainu's ears.
Akainu clenched his fist, magma churning and boiling between his fingers.
But in the end, he didn't make a move.
Because he knew that Shanks wasn't there to fight, but Shanks was definitely not afraid of fighting.
If he attacks Shanks now, it would be tantamount to pushing the Red Hair Pirates to the opposite side of the Navy.
The Navy can no longer afford to have another Four Emperors as an enemy.
Akainu gritted his teeth as the magma on his right arm slowly cooled and solidified back into the shape of his arm.
"Withdraw." As he squeezed out that word, the veins on his face bulged.
Shanks sheathed Gryphon, the Conqueror's Haki that had enveloped the battlefield dissipated.
He turned and walked toward the Red Fox, his cloak billowing behind him in the sea breeze.
Beckman watched him from the ship's railing, having replaced his cigarette with a new one, but not lighting it.
After taking a few steps, Shanks stopped again and looked back at the figure leaning on his naginata in the square.
Whitebeard.
The Whitebeard happened to be looking at him, a grin spreading across his face. He didn't say anything, but simply waved at him.
Everyone understood the meaning of that gesture—get lost, kid, this is none of your business.
Shanks was silent for a few seconds, then continued walking forward.
He knew what Whitebeard was going to do next.
Sengoku knew, Garp knew, everyone present knew.
But no one could stop him, because it was Whitebeard's own choice.
A man who has roamed the seas for decades has the right to choose how he dies.
Others have no right to criticize.
When the gangway of the Red Fosse was lowered, Beckman finally lit a cigarette.
"A deal has been reached?"
"It's settled."
Shanks boarded the ship, stood at the bow, and took one last look at Marineford.
The flag of the Marine Headquarters was still flying, but the building was riddled with holes, cracks in the walls stretched from the foundation to the top floor, and half of the building was leaning.
The square was riddled with shell craters and cracks, and the ice surface was completely ravaged by the battle.
Corpses lay scattered in pools of blood—some were from the navy, some were pirates, and some were dressed in civilian clothes—these were the unfortunate souls who had been dragged into this mess.
"Let's go," Shanks said.
The Red Fox slowly turned its bow and headed out to sea.
The ship left a white trail of spray in its wake as it gradually moved away from the now-ruined Marine Headquarters.
The Red Hair Pirates were like tourists, taking a quick stroll around the battlefield before hastily departing.
On the deck, Yasopp disassembled the sniper rifle and cleaned it, muttering to himself as he did so.
"Those guys on Hachinosu are really ruthless."
When I saw Roy sever Saint Saturn's head through the scope, I almost dropped my gun.
"That knife was truly terrifying."
Raki Lu took a bite of the meat leg.
"But what I'm more curious about is, how did he know about Black Turn's weakness?"
Isn't that the Celestial Dragons ' trump card?
Beckman exhaled a puff of smoke.
"You're asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?"
Roy started planning this ten years ago; it's not surprising he knows everything.
Shanks did not participate in their discussion.
He leaned against the ship's railing, watching Marineford sail away, his fingers unconsciously stroking the hilt of Gryphon's knife.
Shanks closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
The sea breeze carried the smell of gunpowder and blood, but he also detected a familiar scent within it—
That was the scent of New World.
The wind blowing from Marineford towards the latter half of the Grand Line carries the salty, fishy, and scorching heat unique to that sea.
" Beckman." He opened his eyes.
"Um?"
"After you get back, keep a close eye on Kaido's movements."
Now that he has begun assembling the fleet, he won't just be putting on a show.
Beckman nodded:
"That madman Kaido is probably trying to seize territory while Whitebeard is away."
However, since the main force of the Whitebeard Pirates is still intact, he probably won't engage in a direct confrontation.
"Uncertain."
Shanks shook his head.
"If Whitebeard chooses to die here today, the Whitebeard Pirates will be leaderless once the news gets out."
Kaido won't let this opportunity slip by.
Beckman paused for a few seconds, then asked a question.
"You're planning to help the Whitebeard Pirates?"
"It's not about helping."
It's about maintaining balance.
If Kaido were to take over Whitebeard's territory, the balance of the New World would be completely shattered.
"At that time, Kaido the only one in power, and with the remnants of Hachinosu and Big Mom's forces, the New World will be in complete chaos."
What about Hachinosu?
Roy really hit the jackpot this time; he'll definitely want to recruit the remnants of the Whitebeard Pirates too.
Shanks recalled the glance he'd exchanged with Roy earlier, and a slight smile played on his lips.
He will.
However, he won't forcibly take it; instead, he'll give those people a choice.
That's the kind of person he is—he doesn't force you, but lets you choose for yourself, and the result is always in his best interest.
Beckman flicked his cigarette ash. "These kinds of people are the most troublesome."
"That's really troublesome."
Shanks turned away, no longer looking in Marineford's direction.
"Fortunately, he's not an enemy so far."
As the Roy Pirates and the Red Hair Pirates withdrew, Marineford Square...
Only an old man with white hair remained, raising his naginata and laughing loudly.
"Gurara la la la-- Sengoku! Let me see the last vestige of your navy's backbone!"
Whitebeard raised his naginata high, the vibrational energy concentrated on the blade compressed to a level visible to the naked eye.
The air around the blade was violently distorted, emitting a piercing buzzing sound.
The ice surface cracked outwards from him in all directions, the cracks extending to the edge of the harbor.
Even the wreckage of warships anchored in the open sea was shaken slightly.
The Buddha Form, an incarnation of the Sengoku, shone with golden light, its palms clasped together, and shockwaves were compressed wildly between its palms.
There was no anger or fear on that aged face, only a solemnity befitting a final battle against a sworn enemy.
Two longtime rivals, locked in a bitter feud for decades, are engaged in their final showdown in this devastated plaza.
At the moment of impact and vibration, the entire Marineford trembled violently.
The seawater in the harbor was shaken and surged upwards, forming several walls of water tens of meters high, before crashing back onto the surface, splashing up a cloud of water mist.
The News Coo circling in the sky were scattered and fled by the shockwave.
The warships that were still gathering the remnants of their troops on the battlefield were shaken and tilted, and the sailors were thrown about.
The Sengoku was forced back several steps, his feet carving two deep furrows in the ice.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, Whitebeard raised his naginata once more.