The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 160 - 62: The End of the Sea

It was like watching the abyss collide with the abyss.

Black lightning shot skyward in a blinding torrent. A colossal column of shock force punched through the clouds overhead.

The sea of clouds shattered, reformed, shattered again—over and over.

The world itself changed color.

In the eyes of the pirates watching in horror, reality seemed to twist and invert. Color drained from the world, leaving only stark black and white.

A tremor like an earthquake roared out from the Moby Dick and the Oro Jackson.

Towering tsunamis—dozens of meters tall—rose and overlapped. Centered around the two pirate ships, they surged outward in every direction, engulfing the surrounding seas for tens of nautical miles.

And then—at that very moment—

The two legends who had unleashed this awe-inspiring clash... moved.

CLANG!!

Two Supreme Grade Blades were drawn in unison. In a single breath, Whitebeard and Roger leapt from their places and brought down their weapons.

A moment of absolute silence followed.

Black-red lightning compressed violently between the two peerless weapons, forming a dense sphere of energy. The howling wind tore the captain's hats from their heads—black and golden hair alike whipped wildly in the storm.

Amidst the flashing thunder, their faces lit up—grins wide and wild with battlelust.

"Hahahahaha! Newgate!! Other than Garp, you're the only one who can make my blood boil like this!!"

Roger's laughter rang out, his grin filled with childlike delight—like a boy reunited with his favorite toy.

"After all this time, and the first thing you do is swing your sword at me...

Is that your idea of a greeting, Roger?"

Whitebeard's eyes blazed with fighting spirit, his white captain's coat flaring behind him.

And then—

"Roger! That's enough!! Don't forget why we're here!!"

Rayleigh's voice thundered from the deck of the Moby Dick.

"Pops!! If you keep this up, our ship's gonna sink!!"

Marco yelled, desperate.

As their voices rang out, the energy compressed between the two Supreme Blades could no longer hold.

BOOM!!

A blinding flash of white consumed the sky, turning the blackened heavens into day for an instant.

An even greater storm surged forth—the sea shrieking as if in pain, forced to bow before the wills of two kings.

No one knew how long it lasted.

But eventually... peace returned.

The waves calmed. The ocean once again turned a clear, deep blue.

As Roger and Whitebeard slowly sheathed their weapons, both crews exhaled in deep relief—deliberately ignoring the massive rift now torn across the sky above them.

They'd long since grown numb to such things.

"Che! What a buzzkill."

Roger muttered as he slid his sword back into its scabbard, clearly annoyed—but the sharp glare from Rayleigh made him shrink back instantly.

Whitebeard, too, looked back at his sons with disapproval—only to be cut off by Marco's pointed remark:

"We don't have the money to fix the ship, you know."

He swallowed the words in his throat with a bitter snort.

Seeing the stubborn looks on their captains' faces, both Marco and Rayleigh couldn't help twitching at the corners of their mouths.

These damn old men...

The same thought echoed in their minds.

And then, as if sharing in each other's pain, they exchanged an apologetic smile.

"So tell me, Roger—what brings you here, really?"

Whitebeard reached for a massive jug of sake—nearly half a man's height—and poured Roger a bowl so large it could drown a fish. Sitting down heavily, he took a swig and asked, impatient.

Roger's face lit up at the sight of alcohol. He grinned, downed the whole bowl in one long gulp, and shamelessly pushed the empty bowl back toward Whitebeard.

"No rush. It's been a while—we should drink first."

Watching his eager expression and empty cup, Whitebeard couldn't help wondering if the bastard had run out of money and come here just to mooch some booze.

With a sigh, he refilled Roger's bowl, then added pointedly:

"Our time is short. Garp and Sengoku have already led their elites into the New World. It took some work to shake them off."

Whitebeard didn't fear Garp or Sengoku—but if he could avoid clashing with the Marine's main force, he preferred to.

Partly because the Marine's strength was no joke—backed by the World Government, any battle would drag out endlessly with no real benefit.

And more importantly...

He didn't want to see his "sons" hurt or killed.

Even with all his strength, if it came to all-out war with the Marine, he couldn't guarantee every one of his crew would make it out alive.

Unlike the reckless man before him, who ran wild across the seas without a care in the world...

Whitebeard had grown too powerful, too rooted. With vast territories and countless crew members under his protection, he bore a weighty responsibility.

One that bound him more than any chain.

"What's there to fear? Worst case, we throw down and have a grand old fight."

Roger laughed, unfazed.

CLANG!

Rayleigh smacked him across the head with a hand chop, raising a smoking welt.

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"Talk."

His teeth clenched as he spoke.

Roger winced in pain, rubbing his head as his expression slowly turned serious.

"Newgate...

You know I've been searching for the end of this sea..."

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To be continued...