A terrifying aura erupted from Sanders, sending shockwaves of Conqueror's Haki surging toward the Moby Dick.
Marco's face tightened as the sheer force nearly threw him off balance.
Behind him, the division commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates struggled against the oppressive wave. Some staggered, stepping back involuntarily, bracing themselves like sailors caught in a storm.
Sitting calmly on the deck, Whitebeard's face showed a flicker of intrigue.
This Conqueror's Haki—it wasn't just powerful; it rivaled that of Red-Haired Shanks.
Yet, Whitebeard didn't intervene with his own Haki. Instead, he observed his sons, waiting to see how they would respond.
To him, this was an opportunity. The future belonged to them, and battles like this would prepare them for what lay ahead. Facing a young powerhouse like Sanders would remind them that the sea was vast, filled with strength beyond their imagination.
It was also a chance for him to gauge Sanders' abilities firsthand. The stories in the papers painted a grand picture, but Whitebeard wanted to see the truth for himself.
Marco narrowed his eyes at Sanders, the sheer magnitude of the young man's Haki stunning him.
It was rare to see such an overwhelming display of power, especially from someone barely in his twenties.
"Sanders," Marco said in a steady voice, though his muscles tensed. "Coming here and showing off like this—are you really just here for a drink?"
Marco's body transformed, blue and white flames of the mythical phoenix enveloping him as he leaped toward Sanders. His right leg, cloaked in Armament Haki, lashed out fiercely.
"Phoenix Talon!"
Sanders' eyes lit up with excitement. Armament Haki coiled around his fist, the red-black aura crackling ominously.
"Bang!"
The clash echoed like thunder.
Marco's expression shifted as an immense force reverberated through his leg. It sent him flying backward, forcing him into an aerial backflip before he landed on the ship's railing.
Sanders remained unshaken, standing tall on the deck with a slight smirk.
"Impressive. As expected of Whitebeard's right hand," Sanders said.
Then, without waiting for a response, he rose into the air, hovering effortlessly. His gaze shifted to the division commanders below.
"But I'm not here for you. Step aside."
Marco, undeterred, spread his flaming wings and soared upward.
"If you want to see our father, you'll have to prove yourself first!" Marco said coldly.
He transformed fully into his hybrid form, his talons and wings glowing with phoenix fire. Lunging at Sanders, he launched a series of swift, devastating kicks.
But Sanders was ready.
His Conqueror's Haki infused his body, the air around him crackling with red and black lightning. As Marco's attack approached, Sanders' Observation Haki kicked in, allowing him to predict the move.
He vanished, his body seemingly dissolving into thin air.
"Behind you, Marco!" Vista called out in alarm.
Before Marco could react, Sanders reappeared behind him, his fist already cloaked in Conqueror's Haki.
"Boom!"
The punch connected with Marco's head, sending him hurtling downward like a meteor. He crashed into the ocean with a deafening splash, disappearing beneath the waves.
"Marco!" Vista shouted, gripping his blade tightly. His expression darkened as he stepped forward, ready to engage.
But before he could act, a commanding voice rang out, silencing the deck.
"Stand down!"
The deep, resonant voice of Edward Newgate brought everything to a halt.
Standing at his full height, bisento in hand, Whitebeard's towering figure radiated an aura of unshakable dominance.
His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, fixed on Sanders.
"Gurararara! You've made quite the entrance, boy," Whitebeard said, his laughter echoing across the ship.
"But if you want a fight with me, you'll have to do better than that."
The Sea Emperor himself had stepped into the fray.
""You're no match for him. Let him through.""
Whitebeard's deep, commanding voice rang out, halting the tense atmosphere on the Moby Dick.
"Old man!"
The division commanders exchanged reluctant, frustrated glances, their pride bruised but unwilling to disobey their captain.
"Why are you still standing there? Go fish Marco out of the sea," Whitebeard said casually.
"Understood, Pops!"
Vista gritted his teeth and gave Sanders a cold glare before signaling to Namur, the Eighth Division Commander and a fish-man, to retrieve Marco.
Namur nodded in acknowledgment, casting a glare of his own at Sanders before diving gracefully into the ocean.
Unperturbed by the hostile stares, Sanders chuckled lightly and ascended the deck of the Moby Dick.
He walked with deliberate nonchalance toward Whitebeard's position, seemingly oblivious to the seething anger around him.
At last, Sanders reached the center of the deck, where the towering figure of Whitebeard sat.
The colossal man's chest was bare, revealing a latticework of scars carved across his muscular frame. Numerous IV tubes were attached to his body, painting a stark image of a warrior who had weathered countless battles but was now fighting against time itself.
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard's booming laughter filled the air.
"You're a little late, Sanders. I thought you'd come looking for me shortly after your fight with Kaido."
"True, I am a bit late," Sanders admitted, his gaze lingering briefly on the IVs. "If I'd come any later, though, defeating you might've lost its appeal."
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed slightly at the veiled jab.
This brat thought he was too old?
"Brat!" Whitebeard's gaze sharpened, and an immense wave of Conqueror's Haki erupted from him, surging toward Sanders.
Sanders remained unfazed, meeting the overwhelming pressure head-on with his own Conqueror's Haki.
The collision of their wills created a hurricane of energy, forcing the nearby crew members to retreat as gusts of wind tore through the ship.
Above them, the clouds churned violently, splitting apart under the pressure of their clash.
"Not bad," Sanders thought to himself. "Even at this age, Whitebeard's presence is unmatched. What must he have been like twenty years ago?"
He felt a pang of regret. A duel against the Whitebeard of old would have been a truly exhilarating experience.
The Haki standoff ended in a stalemate, neither conceding an inch.
Without warning, Sanders raised his hand and sent a green energy wave toward Whitebeard.
"Pops!"
Vista and the others cried out in alarm, ready to intervene.
Whitebeard raised a hand, halting them in their tracks. He made no effort to dodge, allowing the wave to hit him directly.
To everyone's surprise, the energy didn't harm Whitebeard. Instead, a subtle yet noticeable change occurred—his aura seemed slightly stronger, his vitality marginally improved.
"Brat," Whitebeard said, his tone both amused and suspicious. "I don't recall the Rumble-Rumble Fruit having any healing abilities."
His piercing gaze locked onto Sanders.
"And more importantly, why would you heal me? Are you not afraid of the consequences?"
Sanders shrugged nonchalantly.
"It's simple. I'm afraid I'll accidentally kill you. So, I figured I'd give you a little boost, just to be safe."
The deck fell silent as the Whitebeard Pirates stared at Sanders in disbelief.
A moment later, Whitebeard roared with laughter.
"Gurararara! What an interesting brat you are!"
His eyes glimmered with approval, even as his grip on his naginata tightened.
"Very well, Sanders. Show me if you've got what it takes to challenge the strongest man in the world!"
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T/N:
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