Despite Daren's provocative words, Whitebeard's bloodshot eyes remained calm and unchanged.

The rest of the Whitebeard Pirates were furious, their faces flushed with rage.

Before they could react,

Daren casually raised his hand and gestured. In an instant, the wreckage of the metal ark ship flew toward him, twisting and reforming mid-air into its original shape, then hovered silently above.

Daren and the Shichibukai leapt onto the ark and began ascending skyward.

From above, they looked down at the enraged Whitebeard Pirates below, eyes filled with defiance.

"Kishishishi... Shouldn't we just finish them off right here?"

Moria, hoisting his jagged greatsword, let out a chilling laugh, licking his cracked lips as he asked.

But the moment he spoke, several sharp gazes turned toward him.

Crocodile and the others stared at him like he was an idiot.

"Did you take a hit to the head?"

Mihawk, ever calm, said flatly.

"You—!"

Moria's face froze, then flushed with embarrassment.

He opened his mouth, but when he remembered the man's terrifying swordsmanship, his expression wavered. In the end, he just gave a cold snort and turned away.

Daren paid him no mind. Hands relaxed at his sides, he stared ahead, his expression indifferent as he watched the Whitebeard Pirates grow smaller beneath him.

Whitebeard wasn't someone that could be killed so easily. Daren didn't know the extent of his injuries, but his own condition was already dire—he could barely stay on his feet.

As for Bullet, he was likely in even worse shape. His body wasn't nearly tough enough to match the strength of an Indestructible Body.

Add to that the desperate defense by Marco and the others, and trying to kill Whitebeard here was practically impossible.

Worst of all, if Whitebeard decided to launch one of his terrifying, last-ditch assaults like he did during the Summit War, Daren doubted his battered body could survive even a few punches.

This was Whitebeard in his prime—golden hair, still at the height of his power.

In any case, they'd already completed their mission. Headquarters had tasked them with stopping the Whitebeard Pirates—and they had.

Given their current state, there was no way Whitebeard's crew could still head to the Miracle Island.

"What a satisfying battle, Whitebeard."

A cold, defiant smirk tugged at Daren's lips.

The rest of the group couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the Whitebeard Pirates' pitiful condition.

This was supposed to be the most powerful pirate crew in the world...

and they'd been left here, completely humiliated!

Keep in mind, Crocodile and the others were still rookies at this point—yet they'd pulled off something close to miraculous.

The thought alone filled them with an indescribable rush.

Especially Moria and Crocodile, who had initially been reluctant to join the Shichibukai—now, seeing the furious faces of Marco and the others below, they couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction!

A ridiculous thought popped into their heads:

"Maybe... being one of the Shichibukai isn't so bad after all..."

"Those damn bastards!!"

Marco, burning with fury under the sneering glares of the Shichibukai, felt like his eyes would burst from rage.

He stepped forward, hands igniting with blue-green flames, ready to transform into his phoenix form and give chase.

The others clenched their jaws, looking like they were about to charge forward.

They were the Whitebeard Pirates—how could they swallow such shame!?

But just then, a large, bloodied hand landed firmly on Marco's shoulder.

"Let them go."

Whitebeard's hoarse voice came from behind.

Marco froze and turned around.

There stood his Oyaji, towering like a mountain, gazing calmly at the ark ship ascending into the sky.

"This sea... just got a few more troublesome brats to deal with."

Only after the ship vanished into the distant clouds did Whitebeard sigh, a hint of loneliness flickering across his face.

"But Oyaji, why don't we chase after them..."

Marco gritted his teeth in frustration and was about to speak, but Oyaji suddenly staggered. With a heavy thud, he dropped to one knee and coughed up a pool of hot blood.

His face turned deathly pale, and the sight of that dark red blood pooling on the ground sent Marco and the others into a panic.

"Oyaji!!"

"Heal him!!"

"Damn it!!"

"Oyaji is hurt!!"

"..."

Marco quickly activated his Devil Fruit powers. Blue-green flames—known as the Blue Flames of Resurrection—burst from his hands, spreading across Whitebeard's chest.

The others rushed over, surrounding him with tense, worried expressions.

"I'm fine..."

Whitebeard gasped, his voice so hoarse it sounded like his throat had been scorched by fire.

He waved his hand with difficulty and forced a reassuring smile.

"Don't forget, your Oyaji is known as the strongest man in the world."

Marco's eyes turned red as tears welled up.

As the ship's doctor of the Whitebeard Pirates, it wasn't until he activated his powers that he truly grasped just how serious Oyaji's injuries were.

He might have looked fine on the outside, but internally, his organs had suffered significant trauma.

It wasn't fatal, but Marco had never seen Oyaji hurt this badly before.

Not even during battles with Roger or Shiki had Oyaji ever been injured like this.

But Marco didn't realize that those fights with Roger's crew or Shiki had been little more than scuffles compared to what they'd just experienced.

After all, those battles had been between prominent figures of the sea. With Whitebeard's immense strength and towering reputation, most opponents never pushed the fight too far.

The Whitebeard Pirates had never been ambitious about ruling the seas, so few had ever dared to force them into a life-and-death struggle.

Only lunatics like Daren and Bullet would turn a simple clash of strength into an all-out battle to the death.

"Quick! Help Oyaji onto the ship to rest!"

"Prepare nutrient injections! Start the IV immediately!"

Marco, eyes bloodshot, barked orders at the others.

Several officers sprang into action, carefully supporting Whitebeard as they boarded the Moby Dick and entered the cabin.

The others finally let out a breath of relief and began cleaning the battlefield and maintaining the ship.

"What's wrong, Teach? You alright?"

A crewmate patted the shoulder of a dazed young man standing nearby.

The boy stood there, frozen. His skin was dark, messy black curls stuck out from under his hat, his lips were thick, and a pair of chilling steel claws adorned his hands.

The blood on the claws had yet to dry.

"I'm... I'm fine."

Teach snapped out of it and forced a smile.

"Do you think Oyaji will be okay?"

The crewmate hesitated, then suddenly laughed.

"Of course! Our Oyaji is the strongest in the world! Don't worry too much."

He gave Teach another pat on the shoulder before heading onto the ship.

The young man named Teach remained rooted in place, silently watching as blood-soaked bandages were carried in and out of the cabin. A faint light flickered deep in his eyes.

A single drop of blood gathered at the tip of the steel claw and slowly fell.

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