Chapter 228

Whitebeard's voice echoed like a thunderclap across the shattered landscape, his bellowing roar reverberating through the heavens as he unleashed his full power.

"World Quake!!!" His forehead, smeared with blood from countless blows, was a testament to the intensity of the battle. But that did nothing to diminish the fury in his eyes or the strength in his arms. With a mighty heave, Whitebeard grasped the very fabric of space itself, pulling down with a force that defied comprehension.

The air seemed to scream in agony as the shockwave expanded, a tremor so powerful that it rippled through the earth, reaching deep into the sea bed thousands of meters below. The ocean, in all its vastness, could not withstand the might of this one attack.

For miles in every direction, the sea was torn asunder, the water plunging into a colossal depression. The sea itself seemed to bow before the overwhelming might of Whitebeard, creating an area where the ocean had sunk dozens of meters, as if the world itself was being pulled apart.

The once-mighty island that had served as the battlefield was no longer a single, cohesive landmass. Whitebeard's assault had shattered it into thousands of fragments, transforming it into a sprawling archipelago of jagged rocks and splintered earth.

The tremor extended far beyond the battlefield, reaching islands hundreds of miles away. Entire communities felt the ground shake beneath their feet, sending waves of panic through the population. Many feared that their islands were sinking, as the shockwaves from Whitebeard's attack seemed to herald the end of the world itself.

But Garp was not to be outdone. With a snarl that matched the ferocity of his opponent, he smashed through the warped space created by Whitebeard's tremor, his fists glowing with an intense, molten heat.

"Galaxy Impact!!!" The air around Garp crackled with energy as he poured his will into his attack. His Conqueror's Haki, a force so immense it could shatter the spirits of lesser men, clashed violently with Whitebeard's. The Haki of both men expanded outward, forming a domain that stretched for miles, like two stars on a collision course, their energies intertwining in a cosmic dance of destruction.

The impact was cataclysmic. The very skies above seemed to split apart as their Haki collided, creating a spectacle that could be seen from hundreds of miles away. The sea churned violently, waves towering as high as mountains before crashing back down into the abyss left by Whitebeard's earlier attack. The air itself seemed to warp and twist under the pressure, as if reality was struggling to contain the sheer power being unleashed by these two titans.

Both men were battered and bruised, their bodies covered in wounds that would have felled any other warrior. Blood trickled down Whitebeard's face, his iconic mustache stained red, while Garp's Marine coat was torn and scorched, the white fabric marred with blood and dirt.

Yet, despite the damage they had sustained, neither showed any signs of slowing down. If anything, the ferocity of the battle only seemed to intensify with each passing second.

Whitebeard's eyes blazed with determination as he infused his Tremor-Tremor Fruit powers into his massive halberd, Murakumogiri. The weapon, a Supreme Grade blade that had been nurtured by Whitebeard's Haki throughout his lifetime, groaned under the immense pressure.

The tremor power intertwined with his Haki, creating a weapon of unparalleled destruction. With a mighty swing, he brought it down in a devastating arc.

"World Cleaver!!!"

Garp met the attack head-on, his fists glowing like molten metal as he poured every ounce of his strength into them.

"World Annihilation!!!" His fists clashed with the blade, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. The sheer force of their collision caused the ground beneath them to shatter even further, the very earth crumbling away under the weight of their power.

The supreme-grade blade, Murakumogiri, seemed to scream in protest as it was caught between two opposing forces of nature. The weapon, infused with Whitebeard's Haki, held firm, but even it seemed to strain under the assault of Garp's monstrous strength.

The two warriors were locked in a primal brawl, neither giving an inch as they fought with everything they had. The ground beneath them gave way, collapsing into the sea as their battle raged on.

Garp, his muscles straining with the effort, pushed back against Whitebeard's assault, his fists glowing even brighter. The impact of their blows sent shockwaves through the air, forming visible cracks in the space around them as their Haki clashed.

The force of their strikes was so immense that it seemed as though the very fabric of reality was being torn apart by their battle.

Whitebeard, despite the blood streaming down his face and the fatigue weighing on his body, gritted his teeth and pushed forward. His halberd blazed with power as he swung again and again, each strike more ferocious than the last. The ground beneath his feet shattered with every step, the island splintering further under the sheer might of his attacks.

Garp responded with equal ferocity, his fists moving faster than the eye could follow. Each punch was like a meteor crashing to earth, the sheer force of his blows caused the air to ignite with the friction.

The island, already reduced to a crumbling archipelago, was now little more than a battlefield of destruction, the once lush landscape turned into a wasteland by the titanic clash of these two legends.

The battle was a test of their resolve as much as their strength, with each man pushing the other to their absolute limits. The heavens above seemed to darken, the clouds swirling in response to the immense energy being unleashed below.

Lightning crackled in the sky, drawn to the epicenter of their clash, and the sea around them boiled and churned, caught in the wake of their fury.

Despite the devastating wounds they had inflicted upon each other, neither Garp nor Whitebeard showed any sign of backing down. The pain and exhaustion were nothing more than distant memories to them, their focus solely on the battle at hand. Every punch, every swing, was delivered with the full weight of their experience and power, each attack designed to destroy the other completely.

********

The Sorbet Kingdom, South Blue

The deck of the Marine patrol ship was eerily quiet, the usual camaraderie and banter between the sailors replaced by a thick, oppressive tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud. The ship had been scouring the waters just a few miles off the coast, ensuring that none of the residents of Sorbet Kingdom attempted to escape the massacre taking place on the island.

The sea breeze that once brought a sense of freedom now carried the stench of blood and death from the island, a constant reminder of the horrors unfolding just beyond the horizon.

Many of the Marines on board were seasoned veterans, men and women who had seen their fair share of battles and bloodshed. But this was different. This was not a war against pirates or criminals; this was something far darker.

They were here, acting as glorified guards, ensuring that no one escaped the slaughter. The realization that they were complicit in the massacre weighed heavily on their hearts, and the once-unified crew found itself divided, the moral implications of their orders sowing seeds of conflict among them.

Ensign Davis, a young Marine with barely a year of service under his belt, stood at the ship's railing, staring out at the island with a hollow expression. The screams and wails from the island had been relentless for the past three days, and the scent of blood seemed to permeate everything, even the air they breathed.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to suppress the guilt and anger boiling within him.

"This isn't what I signed up for," Davis muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with emotion. "We're supposed to protect people, not… not stand by while they're slaughtered like animals."

Nearby, Lieutenant Cole, a hardened Marine with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone, overheard Davis's words. He had seen the young ensign's unease growing over the past few days, and he knew that Davis wasn't alone in his feelings.

Many of the younger Marines had begun to question their orders, their conscience warring with their sense of duty.

"Ensign," Cole called out, his voice stern but not unkind. "A word."

Davis turned to face his superior, his eyes dark with frustration and despair. "Sir, how can we just stand here and do nothing? How can we let this happen?"

Cole sighed, his expression softening slightly. "We have our orders, Davis. This operation comes from the highest ranks. We don't have the luxury of questioning them."

"But sir," Davis pressed, his voice rising with a mix of desperation and defiance, "this isn't right! We're Marines, for God's sake! We're supposed to stand up for justice, not—"

"Watch your tone, Ensign!" Cole snapped, cutting him off. His voice was sharper now, a note of warning clear in his tone. "You think I don't know what's happening out there? You think I don't feel the same as you do? But we're soldiers. Our duty is to follow orders, not to question them."

Before Davis could respond, another Marine, Sergeant Vance, stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. Vance was one of the more seasoned members of the crew, and he had been visibly struggling with the situation since the operation began. But unlike Davis, who was conflicted, Vance's emotions had boiled over into barely restrained rage.

"Follow orders?" Vance spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "These orders are nothing but murder! We're not soldiers right now—we're butchers! And for what? So some twisted game can go on without a hitch?"

Cole's eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. "Careful, Vance. You're walking a dangerous line."

Vance stepped closer, his fists clenched, and his knuckles cracked under the pressure. "You can't tell me you don't feel it, Cole! We're killing innocents here! And for what? For the glory of the Marines? To uphold some sick sense of duty? Where's the justice in that?"

A tense silence fell over the deck as other Marines turned to watch the confrontation unfold. The air crackled with tension, the unspoken conflict that had been brewing among the crew was now coming to a head.

"Enough!" Davis shouted, stepping between the two men, his own fear and anger giving him a burst of courage. "We're all feeling this! We all know what's happening out there is wrong. But fighting among ourselves won't solve anything!"

Cole's grip on his sword tightened, his jaw clenched in frustration. "You think I don't know that, Ensign? But what do you suggest we do? Disobey orders? Desert? That's treason, Davis. And treason means death."

Vance sneered, his anger not yet abated. "Maybe death would be better than living with this on our consciences. At least then we'd die with some honor."

Before the situation could escalate further, a commanding voice cut through the tension like a blade. "That's enough, all of you!"

Rear Admiral Jonas, a tall, imposing figure with a face etched with lines of experience, strode across the deck, his presence demanding attention. His sharp and piercing eyes scanned the gathered Marines, noting the anger and guilt etched on their faces. He had been aware of the growing unrest among the crew, and he knew it was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

"Lieutenant Cole, Sergeant Vance, Ensign Davis," Jonas began, his tone calm but firm, "I understand the turmoil you're feeling. Believe me, I do. But now is not the time to let our emotions dictate our actions."

Davis stepped forward, his voice still quivering with emotion. "Sir, how can we just stand by and let this happen? We're supposed to be protectors, not… not executioners."

Jonas nodded, his expression softening slightly. "I know, Davis. What's happening on that island… it's hard to stomach. But we are soldiers of the World Government, and we have our orders. Orders that we must follow, no matter how difficult they may be."

"But sir," Vance interjected, his voice thick with frustration, "those orders are wrong. You can't deny that. We're killing innocent people out there."

Jonas sighed, his gaze shifting to the horizon, where the island of Sorbet Kingdom lay in the distance, shrouded in the mist of blood and despair.

"Vance, do you think I don't know that? Do you think I don't feel the weight of this operation just as heavily as you do? I've been a Marine for decades, and I've seen more bloodshed than I care to remember. But we cannot allow ourselves to fall apart. We cannot let the weight of our conscience drive us to mutiny."

The silence that followed was heavy, the crew hanging on the rear admiral's every word. Jonas was a respected leader, a man known for his integrity and strength. If anyone could guide them through this moral quagmire, it was him.

"What we're doing here," Jonas continued, his voice steady, "is part of a larger picture. A picture that we may not fully understand. The World Government has deemed this operation necessary, and it is our duty to see it through."

"Necessary for what, sir?" Davis asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "For the sake of some twisted competition? For sport?"

Jonas closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with a quiet resolve. "I can't pretend to know the full reasoning behind this operation, but I can tell you this: our role here, as horrific as it may seem, is part of maintaining the balance of power. The world we live in is not black and white, and sometimes, we are called to do things that weigh heavily on our souls."

Cole, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up, his voice carrying a note of grudging acceptance. "Sir, with all due respect, we're not just questioning our orders—we're questioning what kind of Marines we want to be."

Jonas looked at him, his expression unreadable. "I understand that, Cole. But I also know that questioning orders in the heat of the moment can lead to disaster. If we start fighting among ourselves, if we let our emotions take control, then we are lost. And the consequences of that will be far worse than anything happening on that island."

Vance shook his head, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. "So, what then? We just swallow our guilt and pretend this isn't happening?"

Jonas met his gaze, his voice hardening. "No, Vance. We carry that guilt with us. We remember it, and we use it to fuel our resolve. To be better Marines, better people, in the future. But right now, we do our duty. We follow our orders, and we protect each other. That is the only way we survive this."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the decision that lay before them. The crew looked to their rear admiral, searching for guidance, for some sense of direction in the moral fog they found themselves in.

Finally, Davis spoke, his voice tinged with resignation. "And what if we can't, sir? What if we can't just follow orders?"

Jonas placed a hand on the young ensign's shoulder, his expression somber. "Then you have to make a choice, Davis. But know this: whatever choice you make, it will stay with you for the rest of your life. There is no easy path here, no simple answers. We all have to find our own way through this darkness."

The deck was silent once more as the Marines grappled with the reality of their situation. The conflict that had simmered beneath the surface had not been resolved, but it had been brought into the light, and each man and woman aboard the ship now faced a choice.

To follow orders, to obey the chain of command, or to stand up against the tide and risk everything for what they believed was right.

The ship was quiet, a somber mood hanging over the crew like a shroud. The Marines aboard had been grappling with their conflicting emotions, the weight of their orders pressing down on them as they carried out their grim duties.

The stench of blood and the echoes of distant screams from Sorbet Kingdom had cast a pall over their spirits, and not even the lapping of the waves against the hull could break the heavy silence that had settled over the vessel.

Suddenly, a voice rang out, shattering the stillness like a gunshot. "Rear... Rear Admiral!" The Marine stationed on the bow shouted, his voice laced with terror.

The Rear Admiral, already on edge from the oppressive atmosphere, snapped at the outburst.

"What now?" he barked, his frustration boiling over. His mood had been darkened by the events of the past few days, and the frantic shout from his subordinate only served to irritate him further.

But before he could say more, the Marine on the bow, his eyes wide with fear, bellowed again, his voice almost cracking with panic. "Look... Look up there!"

The Rear Admiral's irritation turned to confusion as he followed the Marine's trembling finger, pointing upward. The crew, sensing something was wrong, turned their gazes skyward as well. What they saw made their blood run cold.

High above them, descending rapidly from the heavens, was a massive ship—no, it was more than just a ship. It was colossal, so enormous that it seemed more like a floating island than a vessel. The sheer size of it dwarfed their own ship, casting a dark shadow over the deck as it plummeted from the sky with terrifying speed.

The Rear Admiral's mouth went dry, and his heart pounded in his chest. "Oh, fuck...!" he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was an instinctual response to the sheer scale of the disaster unfolding before his eyes.

There was no time to react, no time to think. The ship above was descending directly toward them, its massive bulk hurtling down with the unstoppable force of a falling mountain.

The Marines on deck were frozen in place, their faces pale as the reality of their situation sank in. There was no escape, no way to avoid the impending collision. The ship above was so vast, so immense, that it blotted out the sky, leaving nothing but a wall of descending doom.

The Rear Admiral's mind raced, but there was no strategy, no command that could save them from the inevitable. The ship was coming down right on top of them, and there was nothing they could do. The air was filled with the sound of the wind howling around the descending behemoth, and the ocean itself seemed to tremble at the approaching impact.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow, the impending disaster casting everything else into sharp relief. The Rear Admiral looked around at his men, seeing the fear etched on their faces, the desperation in their eyes. These were his men, his responsibility, and he had no way to save them.

But then, as the massive ship hurtled ever closer, a strange calm settled over him. It was as if he had accepted the futility of the situation, knowing there was no escape from the fate that awaited them. His last thought was a silent curse at the heavens, at the unfairness of it all, before the world erupted in chaos.

The ship slammed into the sea with a thunderous roar, the impact so powerful that it sent a massive shockwave rippling out in all directions. The water exploded upward in a geyser of foam and spray, and the Marine vessel, caught directly beneath the falling colossus, was obliterated in an instant. Wood splintered, metal twisted, and the entire ship was crushed beneath the weight of the falling behemoth.

High up in the sky, Shiki finally stirred, "Jack! Prepare our men, it's time!" Shiki bellowed, his voice carrying the weight of authority as it echoed across the deck of his floating island. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension as he honed in on a new presence within his observation Haki's range. This was no ordinary presence—it was massive, powerful, and had appeared within his domain out of nowhere.

Shiki's golden mane of hair fluttered in the breeze, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scanned the sea below. He had spent decades honing his instincts, and there was no way he would mistake who the newcomer was, as he had spent quite a few years alongside this old crewmate.

"How the hell did you manage to slip past the Marines' patrols?" he muttered to himself, a mix of mischief and intrigue flashing in his eyes.

Down below, on the sea's surface, Admiral Zephyr stood on the deck of his ship, his gaze locked onto the floating island above. He, too, had sensed the sudden appearance of the powerful presence, and his brow furrowed in thought. "Impossible," he mused quietly, clenching his fists. "How did they manage to evade our entire blockade?"

Zephyr's crew exchanged uneasy glances, sensing their commander's agitation. They had been on high alert, aware that the situation surrounding the island was volatile, but this was something entirely unexpected.

The Marines were confident in their blockade—an impenetrable wall of naval might, or so they believed. And yet, someone had slipped through.

Shiki, meanwhile, wasted no time. His island was a fortress, and his men were battle-hardened, but he knew better than to underestimate the World Government. There was a reason why he waited patiently.

His sharp, piercing eyes turned toward Jack, who stood nearby, ever-ready for orders. "Jack! Get our men ready for battle. I want them on high alert. Whoever just entered our airspace isn't here for tea and biscuits."

Jack, a towering figure with a stoic demeanor, nodded sharply. He had been by Shiki's side for years and knew better than to question the Golden Lion's commands. "Understood, Captain," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying the same gravitas as Shiki's. Without wasting a moment, he began barking orders to the crew, his booming voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Back on the Marine ship, Zephyr's frown deepened. The presence he felt wasn't just powerful—it was familiar. A memory from years past, of battles fought against titans of the sea, surfaced in his mind. "Could it be...?" he whispered, but the thought was too absurd to entertain. The timing, the location—it didn't add up.

Still, Zephyr was a man who trusted his instincts. He barked an order to his crew, his voice snapping them out of their anxious murmurs. "All hands, prepare for engagement! Increase our patrol radius, and keep a sharp eye on the island. Relay word to Admiral Hazard; tell them Charlotte Linlin is here…!!!"

*****

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