The final Admiral, Akainu.
A photo of Akainu appeared on the light screen.
The text displayed beneath it was completely different in style from the previous two.
It was just four words: No Joking Around.
Austin’s voice changed slightly at this point.
Akainu is a different kind of beast.
He is not like the previous two.
This man does not slack off, does not cut corners, and does not idle on the clock.
If you give him a dollar, he will fight a dollar’s worth of war; give him a hundred, and he will fight a hundred’s worth.
Magma-Magma Fruit, Logia type.
In the Marineford War, in terms of damage output, this man ranked first.
Not just first on the Marine side, but first on the entire field.
Counting both sides together, he was number one.
The images on the light screen cut to the battlefield.
Magma rained down from the sky.
It was not just one or two clumps, but a sky full of fire rain.
Each glob that fell was the size of a human head, creating a pit of magma upon hitting the ground.
The ice was burned through, the seawater boiled, and columns of steam shot dozens of meters into the air.
The ships of the Whitebeard Pirates were being burned.
One after another.
The wooden hulls were no different from paper in the face of magma.
Flames surged up the masts, and the canvas sails turned to ash within three seconds.
Crew members jumped from the decks into the water, their bodies ablaze.
On the Moby Dick, several crew members watched the footage of their brothers’ ships on fire, their fists clenching until their bones cracked.
Burning the ships is the first step, Austin’s narration continued.
Akainu’s tactical thinking is very clear: first cut off the retreat, then kill.
If your ship is gone, where will you run?
If you cannot run, then stay and die.
The scene progressed.
Akainu stood in the plaza.
Before him was a group of retreating pirates.
They were not Whitebeard’s main force, but small teams from the forty-three allied fleets.
Several men who looked like Captains turned to flee.
Akainu did not give chase.
He raised his fist, and magma flew out with long tails, exploding amidst the fleeing crowd.
People fell in swaths.
But that is not the point.
Austin’s tone deepened significantly.
The point is this.
The scene shifted.
On the execution platform.
Ace’s handcuffs were unlocked.
Luffy stood beside him, and the two of them rushed down the stairs.
The brothers ran side-by-side.
The surrounding Marines were held back by Whitebeard’s men.
A path was forcibly carved out.
Ace reignited his flames, and Luffy grinned, shouting, “Run!” Everyone thought they had been rescued.
On the screen, the image showed a wide shot.
The two brothers were running in front, with a chaotic battle behind them.
The Marine defensive line had been torn open.
The exit was just ahead.
Then Akainu made his move.
With just a few words, he made Ace stop in his tracks.
Your Pops Whitebeard is nothing special.
On the screen, Akainu’s lips moved.
His voice was transmitted clearly into everyone’s minds.
He is just a loser from the previous era, who can never compare to Roger.
A perpetual loser.
Luffy was still running forward.
Ace stopped.
He turned around to face Akainu, flames erupting from his entire body.
I will not let you insult my savior!
This era is named Whitebeard!
The imagery itself was enough.
This was exactly what Akainu was waiting for.
He was waiting for Ace to stop.
Magma met fire.
The superior Logia crushed the inferior one.
Magma pierced through the flames.
Then Luffy rushed back.
He rushed back to protect Ace.
Ace shielded Luffy.
Akainu’s magma fist pierced through Ace’s back and out through his chest cavity.
The fist protruded from his chest.
Ace looked down at the fist dripping with magma in his chest, then looked up at Luffy.
He smiled.
He collapsed.
…
The entire sea was silent.
The previous image of Whitebeard dying while standing was heroic.
This image was not heroic.
This image was suffocating.
They had clearly been rescued.
They had clearly already escaped.
Dragged back by a single sentence.
Killed by a single punch.
On the Moby Dick.
Ace’s legs went weak.
It was not an exaggeration.
His knees actually buckled, and he stumbled forward half a step, caught by a nearby crew member.
He watched the screen as he collapsed.
The image of Luffy kneeling beside him, crying.
His hat falling to the ground.
His flames flickering out bit by bit.
And then, there was nothing.
That is…
Ace’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Marco stood three steps away, his hand reaching out and then pulling back.
He did not know if he should touch Ace.
At a time like this, any physical contact seemed redundant.
Whitebeard set down his wine cup.
The heavy wooden armrest let out a dull thud.
The old man’s usual easygoing nature was completely gone, his drooping eyelids concealing his eyes.
He had lived so long and dominated these seas for decades.
The outside world called him the World’s Strongest, while others called him a remnant of the old era.
He could brush off those unpleasant labels with a flick of his wrist; he had long since ceased to care about such gossip.
If he had cared about the title of Pirate King, he had plenty of time to take it after Roger’s death.
Without that ambition, he naturally was not afraid of people’s words stinging him.
But he just so happened to have taken in such a stubborn foster son.
This silly boy, Ace, cared.
He valued his Pops’—his own—reputation more than his life.
Even with one foot already out of death’s door, he could not stand to hear a single bad word from others.
To defend Whitebeard’s honor, he had turned his head back and walked right into the executioner’s blade.
This was someone who truly regarded Whitebeard as more important than his biological father.
The old man’s heart ached with bitterness.
He truly wished he could slap Ace on the back of the head right now and call him a fool.
Your life was almost gone; would a few bad words from someone else make you lose a piece of flesh?
To throw away a twenty-year-old life for such hollow fame—it was utterly stupid!
This ache did not last long before it transformed entirely into pure rage.
To kill a young junior, a dignified Marine Admiral and the World Government’s ultimate combat power had actually used such a low-class, thuggish provocation on the battlefield.
He had calculated their deep father-son bond and shamelessly trampled on another’s bottom line.
Using words to provoke a twenty-year-old boy into turning back, then striking to take his life.
The old man’s voice ground out from deep in his throat, each word crashing onto the deck.
Is this your Marine justice?
No one dared to answer.
On the deck, some crew members were shaking, some were crying, and some were grinding their teeth.
The light screen continued to play.
Austin’s voice reappeared.
Many would say Akainu was just carrying out his mission.
Eliminating Roger’s bloodline was an order issued by the World Government.
As a soldier, there is nothing wrong with following orders.
But the problem lies in— Another set of shots appeared on the screen.
The latter half of the Marineford War.
The Marine encirclement wall had already risen.
Whitebeard ordered a full retreat.
The battle had entered its final stages.
Akainu was giving chase.
He was not chasing Whitebeard.
He was chasing those ordinary pirates who were fleeing for their lives and had already lost their will to fight.
Magma covered large areas of the ice.
Fleeing people stepped on the melting ice, slipped, slid, and were swallowed by the magma.
The war was already over.
The execution target was dead.
Whitebeard was also dying.
But Akainu did not stop.
Not letting a single one escape.
That is his principle.
The screen caught a shot: a heavily injured pirate was crawling forward on the ice.
One of his legs was already broken.
He clawed at the cracks in the ice with his fingers, dragging his body inch by inch.
Akainu’s shadow loomed over him.
The screen went black at this point.
There was no need to show what followed.
Absolute Justice.
Austin recited these two words.
Akainu’s creed.
Justice is absolute and allows for no gray areas.
Pirates are evil, and evil must be eradicated.
Regardless of whether you surrender or not, regardless of whether you can still stand.
This logic sounds correct, doesn’t it?
But the problem is, who defines the evil he speaks of?