In the New World, aboard the Moby Dick, the flagship of the Whitebeard Pirates, a heavy silence hung in the air.
After Thatch’s murder and the theft of the Devil Fruit, Ace and Teach did not waste a moment.
They seized a fast ship and traveled through the night, arriving ahead of the others with Thatch’s body to rendezvous with the crew.
After several days at sea, they finally reached the Moby Dick.
On the deck, Edward Newgate, known as Whitebeard, stood beneath the towering mast.
The man hailed as the strongest in the world gazed down at Thatch’s body, his expression dark and unreadable.
Time and the harsh sea had taken their toll.
Despite Ace and Teach doing everything they could to preserve it, Thatch’s body was in a grim state.
Yet Newgate showed no sign of disgust.
Slowly, he knelt.
His massive frame lowered with care as his hands trembled slightly.
He gently placed a hand on Thatch’s cold body, his touch filled with quiet grief.
After a long moment, he lifted his gaze toward Teach, who knelt nearby.
“Who?” Newgate’s voice was low, heavy with restrained fury.
“Who killed my son?”
Teach lowered his head, his expression filled with bitterness.
“Pops, I saw his face clearly.
I don’t know him, never seen him before.
He appeared suddenly inside the cabin…”
Ace and the others had already explained everything many times during their journey back.
Still, Newgate listened as if hearing it for the first time, his sharp eyes fixed on Teach.
Teach spoke smoothly, his story consistent and without flaws.
Over the past few days, he had prepared himself well.
There was no hesitation in his words.
Ace, for his part, had never doubted Teach, so he added nothing further.
When Teach finished, the oppressive aura surrounding Newgate gradually eased.
He had only asked again to be certain.
Deep down, he did not suspect Teach at all.
Teach had been part of the crew for over twenty years.
Through countless battles and hardships, he had built bonds with everyone aboard.
To Newgate, they were family.
To believe Teach could kill Thatch was something he could not accept.
Newgate rose to his feet and let out a quiet breath, forcing down his grief.
“Marco,” he said, his tone steady, “prepare the funeral.
Let Thatch return to the sea.”
Marco, standing behind him with reddened eyes, wiped away his tears and nodded.
“Yes, Pops.”
For pirates, death was never unfamiliar.
Their lives were always at risk, and farewells were often simple.
After giving his orders, Newgate took the portrait from Ace.
He studied it carefully.
The drawing was precise.
Based only on Teach’s brief description, the artist had managed to capture Light’s appearance with remarkable accuracy.
“It’s a new face,” Newgate said quietly.
Ace stepped forward, his fists clenched.
“Pops, that bastard killed Thatch.
We have to avenge him!”
Newgate gave a firm nod, his voice turning cold.
“On this sea, no one harms my family without paying the price.”
Before Ace could continue, Newgate issued his next command.
“Jozu, spread the word.
Send this portrait to all our allied captains.
I want every corner of the sea searched.”
The Whitebeard Pirates were far more than just the crew aboard this ship.
Dozens of powerful captains operated under their banner across the world.
Their reach was vast.
Newgate’s eyes hardened as he continued.
“Release it to the underworld as well.
Spread this face everywhere.
A bounty of 500 million Berries.
Dead or alive, I want him found.”
In the shadows of the world, bounties were nothing new.
Some were placed on lives, others on Devil Fruits, rare treasures, or forbidden knowledge.
But when Whitebeard made a move, the entire sea would take notice.
Ace stepped forward again, his voice filled with determination.
“Pops, I was with Thatch when it happened.
I’m the one who came back alive.
This is my responsibility.
Let me go after him.
If I don’t take him down, I won’t be able to live with myself.”
Before Newgate could respond, Teach spoke as well.
“Pops, this is on me too.
If I hadn’t let Thatch drink so much, he wouldn’t have been caught off guard.
I have to settle this myself.”
To Teach, Thatch meant nothing.
He knew exactly what had happened.
He was the one who killed him.
But what mattered now was the Devil Fruit.
In his mind, Light had to be a Devil Fruit user.
Otherwise, how could he have appeared like that?
And if that was the case, then there was still a chance.
A chance that the fruit had not been consumed.
If he could find Light, kill him, and take the fruit, everything would fall back into place.
Newgate considered their words briefly, then gave a slow nod.
“Go,” he said.
“But don’t act recklessly.”
The decision was made.
The Whitebeard Pirates moved swiftly.
As orders spread across the seas, the news reached powerful forces within hours.
That same afternoon, at Marine Headquarters, Marineford, the situation drew attention.
Inside the Fleet Admiral’s office, Sengoku sat behind his desk, reviewing a report from the Marine Intelligence Division.
His brows furrowed slightly.
“The Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates was killed?” he said, clearly surprised.
Seated across from him, Vice Admiral Tsuru held a teacup, her expression composed.
“I was surprised as well,” she replied.
“But the information came directly from the Whitebeard Pirates.
They’ve already begun a worldwide search for the killer.
It’s real.”
Sengoku picked up the portrait lying on his desk and studied it.
“Who is this man?”
“Unknown,” Tsuru answered, shaking her head.
“No name, no history, no records.
Nothing.
However, based on the reports, he may possess a space-related Devil Fruit ability.”
Sengoku’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Our intelligence network found nothing?”
Even with the vast reach of the Marines and the World Government, supported by Cipher Pol, this kind of blank record was rare.
“The incident just happened,” Tsuru explained.
“It’s too soon.
Investigations are already underway.
We’ll have results soon.”
Sengoku nodded, acknowledging the point.
Then he placed the portrait back on the desk.
“Continue the search,” he said.
“And keep this quiet for now.”
He paused briefly before adding,
“This man has nerve.
If his background is clean enough, we might consider recruiting him.”
Tsuru let out a faint chuckle.
“That would make us enemies of the Whitebeard Pirates.”
Sengoku leaned back slightly, a confident smile forming.
“We’re the Marines.
Others may fear Whitebeard, but we don’t.”
Still, behind that confidence, a deeper thought lingered.
In recent years, Sengoku had begun to feel the weight of age.
His strength was not what it once was.
Before stepping down, he wanted to leave something behind for the next generation.
Something decisive.
Perhaps even the fall of the Whitebeard Pirates.
His gaze returned to the portrait of Light.