"Newgate! It seems like the tremor fruit has already started to take its toll on your body. Would you like my help in healing those internal injuries? I don't think even Saints' Island would have a solution for such a problem. I don't want you to lose your edge like Roger did. That bastard didn't even tell me he was dying from an ailment." Garp roared, his voice echoing through the battlefield.
Blood flowed freely from his wounds, streaming down his bare, muscled chest. His upper body was a canvas of brutal slashes, deep cuts that wept crimson, and dents in his flesh where Whitebeard's attacks had landed. Despite the sheer brutality of his injuries, the light in Garp's eyes was brighter than ever, burning with the fire of an indomitable will.
For five days, Garp and Whitebeard had been locked in a relentless battle, their clashes shaking the very foundations of the earth. If not for the careful selection of this remote island, far from civilization, countless lives would have been lost to the tsunamis that Whitebeard's tremors had unleashed. The island itself was a shattered remnant of its former self, with most of it now lying beneath the sea, claimed by the relentless fury of their battle.
Whitebeard, too, bore the scars of their epic confrontation. His breathing was labored, each breath a rasping testament to the toll his own powers had taken on his body. His once pristine, white mustache was stained with blood, and his body was marred with deep gashes and bruises.
A swollen eye nearly sealed shut, and dents in his torso from Garp's devastating punches, made the mighty pirate look like a war-weary titan. Yet, even in his battered state, the aura of power around him remained undiminished.
"You bastard, Garp!" Whitebeard's voice boomed like thunder, a sound as powerful as the tremors he wielded.
"Speak for yourself! You look much worse than I do. And you underestimate me, Garp. I can still fight for weeks with the same intensity. But tell me, Garp, are you dead set on stopping me here? Why? You know better than anyone what's going on in the Sorbet Kingdom, so why do you still stand in my way?" With a mighty swing, Whitebeard slammed his bisento into the ground, unleashing a shockwave that tore through the battlefield, sending debris flying in every direction.
Garp's expression darkened, his voice grave and filled with an intensity that matched the tremors around them. "Because you may not be able to handle the consequences of your actions, Whitebeard. The world may call you the strongest, but do you truly believe that? I'm sure Roger must have shared some things with you—things only he knew about this world."
"Gurararara!!! Then you should've never joined the Marines, Garp!" Whitebeard's laughter rumbled like an earthquake, filled with both mirth and an undercurrent of regret.
"You should've fought for what your name, D, truly stands for! And who knows? Unless one crosses blades, we can't say who is truly the strongest. Aren't you also hiding your strength from the World Government? I just wonder sometimes how the seas would have been if you had become a pirate!"
Garp stood tall, his breath heavy but unwavering. "I've chosen my path, Newgate!" he declared, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His voice was tinged with a sadness that came from years of battles fought, not just with enemies, but with his own convictions.
"Regretting it now won't change anything. I still believe that someday, the Marines will become what they were always meant to be. A true force for justice. And this world will witness the Marines as I've always envisioned them—a symbol of hope, not fear."
As he spoke, his fists clenched, radiating the aura of a man who had seen too much, but still held onto a flicker of belief. It was that belief, as fragile as it sometimes seemed, that had driven him all these years. It was the flame that refused to die, even in the face of overwhelming darkness.
Whitebeard, battered and bruised, stared at his old rival with a mix of frustration and deep, abiding respect. The ground beneath them trembled as if responding to the intensity of their clash, the sky above darkening with the weight of their wills.
"Garp, I've met stubborn men in my life, and I've met foolish ones," Whitebeard growled, his voice like rolling thunder. "But never have I come across a stubborn fool like you."
He paused, his eyes narrowing, the concern in his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Keep this up, and sooner or later, you'll have the blood of your own family on your hands. The day you realize that... it'll be too late for regret."
The island quaked under the weight of Whitebeard's words, each syllable carrying the force of a tremor. Garp's expression tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. Despite the battle raging around them, despite the titanic forces they commanded, there was a deeper conflict at play—a clash of ideologies as much as it was of fists and weapons.
Garp met Whitebeard's gaze, the air between them crackling with the unspoken tension of decades. The shockwaves from their battle collided with each other, splitting the earth, sending boulders flying and the sea roaring in fury.
Yet, amidst the chaos, their voices cut through, a testament to the bond they shared—warriors who understood each other like no one else could.
"You're right, Newgate. I'm a stubborn fool," Garp admitted, his voice softening for just a moment. "But I'd rather be a fool who believes in something, even if it costs me everything."
"Gurarara!!... And that's why you'll always be Roger's equal, and my greatest rival, Garp," Whitebeard replied, a rare smile breaking through his battered face. "But don't say I didn't warn you. The world we've shaped... it's not one for dreams."
Their words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their shared history. But even as they spoke, their wills clashed with the force of a thousand storms. The ground beneath them split and crumbled, the ocean surging as if to consume the land.
But neither man would back down, for they were more than just warriors—they were legends, each with a vision for the world they sought to protect, even if it meant destroying each other in the process.
Whitebeard's resolve hardened as he weighed the situation. Realizing that a direct confrontation with Garp could be disastrous, he decided to seek a compromise.
The looming threat of being encircled by the Marines was a serious concern; if they closed in on his crew, they would be at a severe disadvantage.
While he had faith that Garp wouldn't resort to such underhanded tactics—understanding that even now, Bogard aboard Garp's ship had the power to overwhelm his own division commanders—Whitebeard also knew that Marco and the other commanders were still far from reaching their full potential.
Despite their mutual respect, Whitebeard was acutely aware of the broader implications. The situation was more precarious than it appeared. Garp's presence alone was enough to keep his crew from acting rashly, but he couldn't extend the same courtesy to the rest of the Marines.
Sengoku, in particular, was a formidable threat. If Sengoku had a chance to strike, he wouldn't hesitate to encircle Whitebeard and his forces.
Whitebeard's massive frame loomed over the desolate battlefield, his grip tightening around his naginata as he finally broke the tense silence between them.
"So tell me true, Garp! Are the rumors about the Ope Ope no Mi true?" His voice was a low rumble, laced with both curiosity and suspicion. The stakes of this confrontation were too high, and despite his respect for Garp, he couldn't afford to gamble with the lives of his crew. If there was even a sliver of truth to the rumors, he needed to know.
Garp's expression hardened as he met Whitebeard's gaze, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He knew the implications of such a question, and what it meant for the world if Whitebeard was on a desperate hunt for the ultimate Devil Fruit.
"You're really putting your faith in rumors, huh, Newgate?" Garp sighed heavily, his voice carrying the weariness of a man who had seen too much. "I'm not sure who spread those lies, but I can tell you this much: You've made the trip from the New World for nothing. Do you really think the World Government would put a fruit like that, the so-called 'ultimate Devil Fruit,' up as a prize?"
Whitebeard narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Garp's words. He could sense no deceit, yet something still felt off. "You may be right, old friend," Whitebeard admitted, though his tone was laced with caution.
"But the World Nobles have done crazier things before. After all, they handed over a mythical Zoan to Kaido without batting an eye. If they could do that, who's to say they wouldn't offer up the Ope Ope no Mi to lure in the strongest of us?"
Garp's jaw clenched at the mention of Kaido. The parallels weren't lost on him, but the situation with Kaido was different—an anomaly, not the norm. He needed to dissuade Whitebeard before the entire world spiraled out of control, chasing after a mere rumor.
"You're right, Kaido's fruit was special, but it's not in the same league as the Ope Ope no Mi. The only reason you and others believe it's up for grabs is because the World Government wants you to. They're playing a dangerous game, Newgate, one where they control the narrative to keep the real motive hidden."
Whitebeard's frown deepened. He had spent years navigating the treacherous waters of the New World, and he wasn't easily fooled.
"So you're telling me that the three Devil Fruits being the prize of this hunt were just bait? A way to draw us all in like moths to a flame? What are they planning, Garp?" His voice was edged with frustration, the weight of his responsibility to his crew pressing down on him.
Garp hesitated, his loyalty to the Marines warring with the respect he held for Whitebeard. "The World Government isn't about to let anyone, not even you, get their hands on that fruit. They've let the rumors spread, fanned the flames even, because it serves their purpose. The more chaos they can stir up, the better. While every pirate worth their salt is chasing shadows, they're focusing on something much bigger, something none of us can fully grasp yet."
Whitebeard's mind raced. The World Government's machinations were always complex, but this felt different—more sinister. "You're saying they're using us, all of us, as pawns in a game we don't even know we're playing?"
Garp's silence was telling. He had already said too much, but he knew Whitebeard wasn't the type to back down without understanding the full picture. "You've always been a perceptive man, Newgate. Just remember, some games aren't worth playing. And this one… it could cost more than just your crew."
The two legends stood in the ruins of their battlefield, their wills clashing with a force that threatened to tear the world apart. But beneath the physical conflict, there was a deeper struggle—a battle of ideologies, of understanding the true nature of power and the hidden strings that controlled their fates.
Whitebeard's voice softened, though the tension remained. "Garp, I'm not just doing this for myself. My crew, my sons—they deserve a future where they're not constantly hunted, and I know what awaits my sons if I am no longer there. If there's even a chance that fruit could save them from such a fate… I have to take it."
Garp nodded slowly, the weight of his own choices pressing down on him. "I understand, Newgate. But just know, the path you're on… it's one fraught with shadows and lies. Be careful you don't lose yourself in the chase."
**********
Room of Authority, Mary Geoise
"How are things progressing on the island?" Elder Saturn inquired, his voice carrying a note of anticipation. All five elders had gathered, stepping away from their usual responsibilities to focus on the unfolding events in the Sorbet Kingdom.
Unbeknownst to the wider world, they were poised to execute a masterful gambit, a move so bold that even the other elders couldn't help but admire Elder Saturn's audacity. He had secured the consent of Imu-sama to implement this maneuver, aiming to recalibrate the balance of power across the seas with a single, decisive action.
"Everything is proceeding according to our plan," Elder Nusjuro reported, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "The Celestial Dragons are being evacuated discreetly, and Agana should have neutralized the most troublesome individuals. The others will remain behind on the island when the ancient weapon reveals its might once more. We're on track for a flawless execution."
The entire operation had been meticulously orchestrated. The CP agent wielding the Wapu Wapu no Mi was already in place to evacuate the ones that needed to be saved. This elaborate scheme was designed as a trap, not merely to eliminate traitors within their ranks but to reassert dominance over the seas with unprecedented force.
"If we could have lured Whitebeard into this," Elder Ju Peter lamented, frustration tinging his voice, "it would have been perfect. Perhaps agreeing to Sengoku's request was a mistake. Whitebeard, alongside Linlin and Shiki, would have been buried in the same stroke, along with the countless pirates currently besieging Sorbet Kingdom."
"Careful," Elder Saturn interjected, his eyes sharp and calculating. "It would have been too obvious a trap, and leaving Whitebeard unchecked could have created an anomaly. Unlike Shiki and Linlin, Whitebeard lacks ambition. As long as we don't provoke him, he will remain a passive threat."
"There was also a reason behind my agreement to Sengoku's request," Saturn continued, his gaze steady. "The immense losses he will incur will significantly weaken the Marines, curbing their power that has been bolstered during the World Draft."
Elder Mars, ever cautious, raised a concern. "This will undoubtedly provoke a backlash. Do we even know how many Marines will perish when we unleash the ancient weapon? This could create a massive rift with the Marines."
"It's a risk we're willing to take," Saturn replied with a calculated calm. "Our primary goal is to ensure Zephyr's downfall. Hazard and Sakazuki, however, are valuable assets. They can be molded to our will and will be spared. The formation of SWORD will serve as a buffer. Those dissatisfied with our actions will likely gravitate towards this new group. Tsuru's granddaughter will be strategically placed within SWORD to identify any potential dissenters."
Elder Warcury, visibly troubled, voiced his concern. "This is indeed a dangerous gamble. How did you even persuade Imu-sama to deploy the ancient weapon, especially considering our dwindling power source? And what if the world discovers that we possess one of these ancient weapons?"
"This is Imu-sama's direct order," Saturn explained, his voice carrying a note of grim satisfaction.
"Imu-sama believes the world needs a stark reminder of why we rule and the consequences of defying our authority. The recent global unrest seems to have stirred Imu-sama's wrath, and now, the world is about to face a demonstration of that power."
Saturn's eyes glinted with a cruel determination. Even he had been taken aback when Imu-sama had summoned him abruptly, as the enigmatic figure rarely involved themselves with such operational details.
But the state of the world had evidently incited Imu-sama's fury, and now the full might of the ancient weapon would be unleashed to reassert their dominance and remind the world of the cost of challenging their rule.
*****
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