After hearing Whitebeard's calm explanation, Yuto finally understood why the pirate's usual boisterous demeanor had changed.
Although Yuto didn't know exactly how strong the 'Marine Headquarters' was in Whitebeard's world, the term 'Marines' inherently stood in direct opposition to pirates.
The central headquarters of such a massive military organization was undoubtedly a fortress swarming with countless powerful individuals.
For a single pirate crew to sail directly into their stronghold and face them head-on… the odds of survival seemed incredibly slim.
"Going up against the Marines… feels a bit…" Rimuru started, his voice trailing off into silence.
The slime only spoke half of what he intended, but the heavy meaning was clear to everyone at the counter.
Yuto didn't offer any empty platitudes.
He just calmly reached over and refilled Whitebeard's massive cup with strong liquor.
He wouldn't try to dissuade the giant.
While Whitebeard had been quietly recounting the events that led to the coming war, his expression had remained rock-solid.
There wasn't a single trace of fear, panic, or hesitation in his fierce eyes—only absolute calmness and unshakeable resolve.
When a man of that caliber has made up his mind, any attempt to dissuade or advise him is nothing short of an insult to his pride.
Whitebeard drank deeply.
He had heard Rimuru's trailing words, and the corner of his mustache merely twitched upward.
"I won't lose." Whitebeard spoke the simple sentence with unwavering conviction.
His lips curled into a grin, looking like a wild arrogant king mocking the very concept of defeat.
"I believe you, Whitebeard-san," Yuto chuckled softly, leaning against the counter.
Whitebeard looked down at the chef, his fierce eyes filling with warm, genuine appreciation.
"As expected, Why don't you just give in and become my son? Gurararara!"
"I'll pass," Yuto declined smoothly, used to the routine by now.
Whitebeard laughed heartily and set his empty basin down.
As the laughter faded, his expression softened, tinged with a heavy hint of fond regret.
"Those foolish sons of mine… Even though they try their best to act tough and calm in front of me, every single one of them is terrified about this coming war. Really, do they honestly think I can't tell?" Whitebeard muttered, shaking his head.
"Even when they sit around drinking on the deck, they wear that pathetic heavy look of concern!"
When he mentioned his crew, the intimidating aura surrounding Whitebeard finally relaxed.
Those sharp, piercing eyes grew incredibly gentle.
Yuto knew exactly who Whitebeard was referring to when he spoke of his 'sons'.
What other pirate captains would treat as disposable, expendable subordinates, Whitebeard genuinely considered his own flesh and blood.
Even though Yuto had never met a single member of the Whitebeard Pirates, he could easily imagine them.
It had to be an incredibly massive loyal family.
"Well, it's a war against a global military. It's only natural for them to worry about their own survival..." Ainz reasoned logically from down the counter.
"Gurararara! Skeleton, you're dead wrong!" Whitebeard laughed loudly, cutting Ainz off. "Those foolish sons of mine aren't worried about themselves. They're worried about me!"
His booming tone carried a deep affection that sounded almost exasperated.
Everyone present felt a quiet stir of emotion at his words. No one spoke up to contradict the giant.
Because looking at him, they all inexplicably believed it was true.
In this world, there are rare people who simply disdain lying.
They possess a massive breadth of character and a raw, magnetic charisma that ordinary people can hardly fathom.
Iskandar was like that.
He was an overbearing, boisterous king, and every word he roared was a pure manifestation of his own unyielding path.
He never hid his true nature, he was sincere and utterly candid.
Whitebeard was exactly the same.
The impression he gave Rimuru and Ainz was identical to the Conqueror King.
He possessed an equally imposing, gravitational presence. He felt like an immense, boundless ocean laid out openly before them.
To the vast ocean, insignificant individuals simply aren't worth the effort of deceiving.
"For decades, those brats have always believed in me. They blindly followed me into hell, their eyes always steady and unwavering. But now? Now they're actually starting to worry about my health. Do they think I'm getting old? Do they honestly think a few illnesses and some medical tubes can hold me back?!"
Whitebeard huffed, both angry and deeply amused.
His tone was a complex mix of gruff reproach and overwhelming fatherly affection.
Yuto listened quietly with a knot of complex emotions stirring in his chest.
He didn't know exactly how to articulate them, so he just let out a soft, empathetic sigh.
Whitebeard took a deep, shuddering breath.
Venting his frustrations seemed to have agitated him slightly.
He exhaled slowly, the heavy tension bleeding out of his massive frame as his mood returned to a steady calm.
'Gulp, gulp...'
He drained the fresh basin of wine in two seconds flat.
A faint, healthy flush finally appeared on his scarred face.
By now, the giant had easily downed over ten standard bottles of high-proof liquor.
"Would you like another round?" Yuto asked, grabbing a fresh bottle.
"Of course! It's rare for me to have such a quiet, carefree night of drinking away from the ship, so of course I would drink more!" Whitebeard laughed.
Yuto popped the corks off three more bottles and poured them all into the basin.
The swirling amber liquid rippled like a disturbed pond.
Whitebeard rested one massive scarred arm heavily on the counter, using his other hand to support his chin.
He gazed down into the clear liquor, his fierce eyes filling with a tranquility.
"Those foolish sons of mine... I really don't know what they'll do in the future..."
Whitebeard's quiet sigh seemed to carry a much deeper meaning.
His casual words sounded like a man quietly putting his affairs in order.
"A father can't look after his sons forever, Whitebeard-san," Yuto said quietly, wiping down the wood in front of him.
"Ah. Yes. You're right about that," Whitebeard smiled softly.
He picked up his basin and gulped the liquor down in massive mouthfuls.
Setting the heavy dish down with a thud, he shifted his gaze toward Yuto.
"Kamisaka. I will ask you one last time. Are you willing to bear my name on your back and become my son?"
Whitebeard's lips curved upward into a confident grin.
His tone was bold and relaxed, but his eyes, filled with the utmost seriousness, were locked onto the chef.
"Sorry. I still have to refuse," Yuto shook his head with a polite, appreciative smile.
The grin on Whitebeard's lips didn't fade, instead, his gaze just softened into a natural fond acceptance.
"What a shame."
With that final offer rejected, Whitebeard pushed his chair back and stood up.
His towering frame blocked the overhead lights again, looking like a scarred giant that could blot out the sky itself.
"Leaving already?" Yuto asked.
"Ah, I've had enough wine for tonight. It's time to return to those foolish sons of mine. They don't know what to do with themselves without me around to yell at them," Whitebeard chuckled.
He reached into his coat and tossed a heavy leather pouch onto the counter.
When the bag hit the wood, the drawstring slipped, and several massive, stamped gold coins spilled out, glittering under the lights.
"Consider it payment for the good booze," Whitebeard said, turning toward the door.
"Wait. Whitebeard-san, take these," Yuto called out.
Yuto reached under the counter and pulled out the handful of high-grade Healing Potions Rimuru had given him days ago.
Since he stayed in the restaurant, he rarely had any reason to use them on himself.
He slid the glowing vials across the counter.
Whitebeard paused, picking up the small glass bottles with two massive fingers.
He looked at Yuto curiously. "What are these?"
"Medicine. They can rapidly heal severe physical injuries," Yuto explained.
"Is that so? Hmph. Thanks, Kamisaka," Whitebeard chuckled softly.
He casually tucked the magical potions into the thick sash wrapped around his waist and strode out into the night.
After the giant pirate left, the atmosphere in the restaurant grew incredibly heavy and somber.
"Whitebeard has already made up his mind to die in this war," Ainz spoke calmly into the silence.
When a person has truly accepted and prepared for their own death, their entire demeanor shifts.
It creates a heavy, finalized presence that ordinary people simply cannot mimic. It's an incredibly difficult-to-detect aura of terminal resolve.
Ainz, as an undead Overlord intimately familiar with the concept of death, could easily sense that Whitebeard was marching toward his grave.
The old pirate carried the distinct aura of a man planning a final, glorious suicide mission.
"Sigh," Rimuru deflated, his entire squishy body softening against the counter in sympathetic sorrow.
Even the usually loud, boisterous dragon girl, Tohru, remained completely silent, staring at the door.
"No. Whitebeard won't die," Yuto chuckled softly, breaking the heavy tension.
Ainz, Rimuru, and Tohru all turned to look at him in surprise.
"His sons are still waiting for him to come home," Yuto said quietly, a firm, unwavering belief in his voice.
...
The somber, heavy atmosphere brought on by Whitebeard's grim departure didn't last long.
Soon enough, everyone shook off the gloom and returned to their usual, relaxed state of mind.
Ainz and Rimuru had originally planned to leave.
They had an ironclad diplomatic agreement to visit Rimuru's world in the Jura Forest for the latter half of the night.
But as Ainz stood up, he suddenly remembered something important. He turned his skull to look at the chef.
"Kamisaka, do me a favor," Ainz rumbled.
Since Yuto and Ainz had become close friends, they usually spoke without much rigid formality.
Asking for a mundane favor could be done directly.
"What is it?" Yuto asked, wiping down the counter.
"Kamisaka... help me buy a handheld gaming console," Ainz asked.
His deep, intimidating voice carried an undeniable tone of eager anticipation, mixed with a very slight, very human sense of embarrassment.
Hearing the request, Yuto couldn't help but smile.
It made perfect sense.
Before transmigrated, Suzuki Satoru was an incredibly severe gaming addict.
He spent every waking hour outside of his miserable corporate job logged into YGGDRASIL.
After transmigration and becoming a literal undead god, the initial shock and novelty of ruling Nazarick had temporarily distracted him from his core hobbies.
But clearly, that distraction had finally worn off.
The hardcore gaming addict had ultimately returned to his roots!
"Sure thing. Just a handheld console?" Yuto agreed easily.
But then Yuto paused.
As a hardcore otaku who used to spend all his money on gacha games, Yuto figured Suzuki probably needed a lot more entertainment than just a single console to survive his stressful life as a Supreme Being.
He asked the follow-up question just to test the waters.
He didn't expect Ainz to freeze in place.
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