The World Government moved quickly, far faster than most had expected. They did not leave the battlefield waiting for long.
A large hummingbird cut across the sky, its wings beating at an astonishing speed. Clutched in its talons were two heavy boxes, each filled to the brim with Devil Fruits. Even without considering the creature's naturally small frame, the ability user who had taken on this form retained the hummingbird's defining trait, extreme speed. When it came to crossing vast stretches of ocean, fewer than ten individuals in the world could rival such velocity.
The very presence of so many Devil Fruits in one place was enough to reveal the terrifying depth of the World Government's reserves.
Yet the man himself was not particularly strong. His aura was thin, almost fragile compared to the monsters gathered on this battlefield. He flew straight to White Ghost's side, clearly seeking protection. Only within that invisible sphere of safety did he feel secure.
This was, after all, a transaction between White Ghost and Redyat. The delivery had to be completed properly.
White Ghost raised a hand.
Two ghosts drifted out from his palm, their expressions oddly playful, almost innocent, yet carrying a subtle cunning beneath the surface. They took the boxes effortlessly and floated forward, presenting them before Redyat.
"This should be enough, correct?" White Ghost asked with a calm smile.
"Naturally."
Redyat nodded, his tone relaxed. He accepted the boxes and tossed them downward without hesitation.
A sharp gust of wind followed as King transformed into his Pteranodon form midair. With precise control, he caught both boxes in his talons and swept back toward the flagship.
When the boxes were opened, even seasoned pirates could not help but inhale sharply.
Inside lay rows upon rows of Devil Fruits, each marked by its distinct swirling patterns. Strange, alluring, and dangerous.
King counted them quickly, his gaze steady, then looked up and gave Redyat a firm nod.
The number was correct.
"Clear a path," Redyat ordered.
At once, the surrounding pirate ships began to shift formation. Battleships and pirate vessels moved with practiced coordination, especially those under Alex's command, gradually repositioning themselves between King and the distant formations.
Within moments, a wide corridor opened across the sea.
For the allied forces, the wait had been unbearable. Every second stretched into eternity, each breath heavy with the weight of impending death.
Now, staring at the suddenly opened passage, many felt something stranger than fear.
Disbelief.
"Move! Set sail immediately!"
Officers snapped back to their senses first, shouting commands at the top of their lungs.
Warships broke formation and surged forward, leaving behind the ice "umbrella" Kuzan had created. One after another, they passed through the corridor, engines roaring, cutting through the sea with desperate urgency.
From afar, those watching through Den Den Mushi broadcasts finally exhaled.
Marine Headquarters, the World Government, and forces stationed across other battlefields all felt the same quiet release of tension.
The fleet shrank into the distance, their silhouettes gradually fading into small black dots against the horizon.
White Ghost did not move.
He remained suspended in the air, his gaze fixed on Redyat, his presence subtle yet immovable. Only when the last trace of the allied fleet vanished did the old man finally relax.
"Until next time," White Ghost said with a gentle smile.
He turned and departed, his figure gliding through the sky in the same direction as the retreating fleet.
Redyat did not respond.
His eyes followed the old man for a moment, thoughtful and sharp. Beneath that calm exterior, he could sense something far more dangerous. White Ghost was not merely a powerful combatant. He was calculating, patient, and far more troublesome than Vulture.
There would be a next encounter.
And that one would not end so easily.
Redyat stood silently for a brief moment before turning back toward the battlefield.
"Return."
His voice was simple, yet it carried authority.
After such a prolonged battle, even he felt the strain. The others were in no better condition. Rest was no longer optional, it was necessary.
The fleet began its return to Jaya Island.
Victory had been secured.
But the war was far from over.
The aftermath of the battle spread across the seas like wildfire.
Redyat, who had remained in the shadows for so long, rose to fame overnight. His command, his strength, and his calculated ruthlessness became the focus of countless discussions.
At the same time, the appearance of White Ghost stirred even greater waves.
How could an old man, seemingly frail and unassuming, force someone like Redyat into caution?
Information soon surfaced, though heavily restricted.
White Ghost was not just an Admiral.
He was also the Fleet Admiral.
That revelation alone was enough to shake the world.
Among the older generation, especially figures like the Four Emperors, the name carried weight. White Ghost had participated in the legendary God Valley Incident decades ago, fighting in a battle that reshaped the world itself.
It was also in that war that he sustained irreversible injuries.
Even so, his presence alone was enough to alter the balance of power.
Under White Ghost's command, the allied forces across the remaining battlefields began to withdraw.
Orders from Redyat mirrored this movement.
One by one, clashes across the Golden Sea ceased. Both sides pulled back, regrouping behind their respective lines.
The battlefield fell into a tense silence.
A temporary truce had formed.
White Ghost needed time to reorganize the forces. The previous command structure had been shattered along with Vulture's defeat. A new strategy had to be established from the ground up.
Redyat, on the other hand, was already thinking ahead.
He had underestimated Vulture slightly.
He would not make the same mistake with White Ghost.
This was no longer a battle of tricks or isolated advantages. From this point forward, it would become a direct clash of overall strength.
Based on the current situation, Redyat estimated the ceasefire would last around ten days, perhaps half a month at most.
Until Vulture recovered, the allied forces would not risk another engagement.
But that window was also their limit.
The World Government needed results.
And they could not afford to wait much longer.
Back on Jaya Island, the spoils of war were distributed.
Fifty Devil Fruits.
An amount that would normally drive entire seas into chaos had been obtained in a single exchange.
The distribution followed merit.
Redyat, as the central figure of the victory, claimed twenty on behalf of the Nightfall Pirates.
No one objected.
King, who had fought alongside others to restrain Kuzan, secured six for the Beasts Pirates.
Alex, whose assault on the enemy rear had been decisive, took eight for the Flying Pirates.
The remaining sixteen were divided among the other participating factions.
To avoid disputes, each faction selected their most outstanding non-ability users to consume the fruits on the spot.
There was no attempt to choose specific powers.
It was left entirely to chance.
After all, the World Government would never hand over truly exceptional abilities. Most of these fruits were average at best.
Still, they were Devil Fruits.
Even the weakest among them could drastically enhance combat capability.
Overnight, fifty new ability users were born.
For Jaya Island, it was a massive boost in overall strength, and a story that would be retold countless times.
Yet beyond the Golden Sea, the greater war raged on.
The Marines had been pushed to their limits in the New World. Only five strongholds remained, from G1 to G5. Everything else had been destroyed in relentless conflict.
At G5, the battlefield had transformed into a living nightmare.
There, a towering figure clashed against a legend.
Ares.
Standing nearly nine meters tall, his body was a fusion of monstrous traits. A golden exoskeleton armored his frame, covered in sharp barbs, while his four arms flexed with terrifying power. His claws resembled those of a gold-devouring ant, each movement radiating brutality.
Facing him was a man whose name once echoed across the seas.
Zephyr, known as the Black Arm.
Even now, his presence remained imposing. His upper garments had long since been torn apart, revealing a body hardened through decades of battle.
The two collided again.
Fists met with explosive force, the ground beneath them fracturing outward in a wide radius. The air roared as shockwaves rippled across the battlefield.
Zephyr's Armament Haki was as formidable as ever.
But Ares was no ordinary opponent.
With each passing moment, the young monster adapted. His techniques sharpened, his Haki grew denser, and the faint crackle of black and red lightning began to dance around his body.
He had already touched the threshold of Conqueror's coating.
And he was learning fast.
"Die, old man!"
Ares' voice thundered across the battlefield.
He could sense it clearly.
Zephyr was declining.
That fact alone filled him with irritation.
This was not the opponent he wanted.
Still, he would finish this.
Ares drew in a deep breath, his entire body tensing as an overwhelming surge of Haki erupted outward.
"Elbaf Spear: Nation Breaker!"
The sky seemed to tremble.
Even distant battlefields fell silent for a brief moment. Pirates and Marines alike turned toward the source of that overwhelming pressure, some collapsing outright under its weight.
Zephyr's eyes sharpened.
He knew this technique.
He also knew he could not afford to take it lightly.
"Black Arm: Mountain Sea!"
Their fists collided.
For a brief instant, the world seemed to lose all sound.
Then came the explosion.
The impact tore through the battlefield, carving a massive trench across the land. The sea itself split apart, waves surging violently to either side.
Zephyr held his ground.
But then, something went wrong.
His breathing faltered.
His chest tightened.
At the worst possible moment, his asthma flared.
The balance of power shattered instantly.
Ares saw it.
And he did not hesitate.
"Get lost."
His voice was cold, dismissive.
His fist broke through Zephyr's defense and struck his body directly.
The force pierced straight through him.
Behind Zephyr, the shockwave carved a spiraling path across the battlefield, splitting earth and sea alike.
Zephyr's body arched as blood burst from his mouth.
He was sent flying, crashing into the distant ocean.
"Teacher Zephyr!"
"Admiral Zephyr!"
Voices rang out in shock.
Even giants could fall.
From a distance, Kaido let out a rough laugh, his battered body swaying slightly as he gripped the remains of his shattered weapon.
"He's finished," he muttered.
But not everyone agreed.
Garp watched silently.
He knew better.
A man like Zephyr would not fall so easily.
Moments later, a figure rose from the sea once more.
Wounded.
Weakened.
But still standing.
Garp exhaled quietly.
Then, without hesitation, he raised his voice.
"We fight again tomorrow!"
He turned and led the Marines away.
This battlefield no longer belonged to them.
Kaido and the others did not pursue.
After seven days of relentless combat, even monsters needed rest.
The war continued.
And the next clash would be even more brutal.