"Nani?! You're saying… the Pirate King? You!?"
Marco stared in disbelief, as if Shanks shouldn't even entertain such an idea.
Perhaps it was because Shanks, compared to the other Emperors of the Sea, was far too low-key.
Shanks chuckled.
"Marco, if you've come to join me, you're welcome. But if it's for something else, go back to where you came from. Otherwise…"
As he spoke, a red gleam flickered in his eyes, and the aura of his Conqueror's Haki flared faintly around him. Marco's expression shifted. He gritted his teeth, transforming into his phoenix form, and hoisted his unconscious crew members onto his back before retreating to his ship.
Once aboard, Marco shouted urgently, "Set sail! Now!"
The crew, alarmed by his tone, scrambled to steer the ship away.
Standing at the bow of the Red Force, Shanks watched Marco's ship quickly depart. He muttered softly, "You noticed, didn't you…"
Ben Beckman approached from behind, his voice low and steady.
"Shanks, were you planning to keep Marco here just now?"
Shanks gave a noncommittal smile.
"His fruit is impressive. I think the old man would've liked it."
Beckman glanced at Shanks, exhaling a puff of smoke.
"That would break the rules."
Shanks spread his hands.
"So I let him go. He should be thankful my brother wasn't here."
Beckman frowned, taking another drag on his cigarette.
"You really should stop bringing up your brother. After all, it was Carl who killed Yasopp's son."
Shanks sighed. This particular incident was a headache. Yasopp was still recovering in the ship's infirmary, but even while injured, he kept yelling about avenging his son.
Whenever this happened, the crew would exchange uneasy glances, avoiding the subject altogether. Shanks, on the other hand, would act as if he hadn't heard a thing.
From Shanks' perspective, with Yasopp's strength, seeking revenge against Carl was impossible. Letting him vent verbally was the best course of action.
When Marco finally returned to the Whitebeard Pirates' territory, his tense nerves began to relax.
He was certain that if he had stayed on the Red Force even a moment longer, Shanks might have "gently" detained him.
Now, Marco wanted nothing more than to get back aboard the Moby Dick and report everything to Whitebeard.
But as the Moby Dick came into view, Marco froze. Beside their flagship was a strange ship.
Who would dare anchor so close to the Moby Dick?
Without waiting for their ship to dock, Marco transformed into his phoenix form and flew to the deck.
Upon landing, he noticed not only the familiar faces of his crewmates but also several cloaked strangers with tattered garments.
At the center of the deck sat a man with wild black hair, speaking calmly with Whitebeard.
Whitebeard noticed Marco and looked up.
"Marco, you're back."
Marco nodded, walking over to Whitebeard's side. When he got a clear look at the man's face, his eyes widened.
"Monkey D. Dragon!?"
Dragon turned to Marco, offering a small smile.
"First Division Commander Marco, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Before Marco could respond, Whitebeard asked,
"Marco, what's the result? What's Shanks' attitude?"
Marco glanced at Dragon, who gave a slight nod. Whitebeard gestured dismissively.
"It's fine. He came here for the same reason you went to see Shanks. Speak freely."
Dragon's expression betrayed a hint of surprise. Clearly, Whitebeard had not disclosed this detail to him.
Marco hesitated for a moment before recounting the encounter. As he finished, his expression darkened.
Whitebeard frowned, his tone grave.
"What happened, Marco? Did Shanks refuse?"
Marco nodded reluctantly. Whitebeard's face hardened, veins bulging on his forehead.
To him, seeking an alliance with Shanks was a rare gesture of humility, a concession from an "old man" to a "junior." That Shanks would turn him down—and with outsiders present—was a blatant insult.
Furious, Whitebeard let out a booming laugh.
"Gurararara… Fine! Very well! That brat from Roger's crew has grown some spine! What's he thinking? That he can take on the Navy himself, or that I'm too old to matter?"
Fearing Whitebeard might act rashly, Marco quickly interjected.
"Father, Shanks has eaten a Devil Fruit!"
"Nani?"
The news snapped Whitebeard out of his rage. Even Dragon looked surprised.
"Shanks became a Devil Fruit user? Do you know which one?"
Marco took a deep breath.
"The Azure Dragon Fruit! Though its coloration was different, I'm certain—it's Kaido's fruit!"
A wave of shock rippled through the deck. Teach stepped forward, shouting,
"Marco, are you sure about this?!"
Marco nodded firmly.
"I saw it with my own eyes!"
Dragon pondered for a moment, his voice thoughtful.
"The Azure Dragon Fruit… Unbelievable. Kaido hasn't been dead long, yet Shanks has already claimed it. For someone like him, this fruit is a game-changer."
Whitebeard, now calmer, scoffed.
"So that's it. No wonder he refused. But does he really think a single Devil Fruit will let him challenge the Celestial Dragons?"
Marco kept quiet about Shanks' ambition to become the Pirate King—or his near encounter with Shanks' fury.
Despite the setback with Shanks, Marco felt there was still hope. After all, the Revolutionary Army had reached out to them.
For Marco, it was surprising to see this shadowy organization, led by Dragon, make such a bold move.
Dragon broke the silence.
"Shanks is a force to be reckoned with. We must do our best to win him over."
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed.
"You can't be serious."
Dragon raised a hand to forestall Whitebeard's anger.
"Think about it, Newgate. Negotiations like this should be handled leader to leader. Sending Marco, as capable as he is, might have been seen as disrespectful. Put yourself in Shanks' shoes."
Marco blinked, realizing Dragon might have a point. Shanks had said something to that effect.
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+255 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg