At the headquarters of the World Economic News.
"They're paying us to distribute this issue for free?"
"How do they even know where our headquarters is?!"
After taking the letter handed over by his subordinate, Morgans—in his bird-man form—furrowed his brows deeply. He scanned the contents at high speed, confusion and disbelief filling his eyes.
He decided to set aside the issue of their base being exposed for the moment.
As the president of the World Economic News, he had long grown used to the fundamentals of journalism—exaggerating facts, twisting angles, and crafting headlines bigger than reality.
But he hated being told what to report.
Even if someone stuffed money into his hands, he still wouldn't agree to publish something he didn't like.
Yet this time, the ones offering money while attaching conditions were the World Government.
That alone made him wary.
"Free distribution? Now that's unprecedented," Morgans muttered to himself.
Still, if the World Government was doing this, then they must have a purpose.
"Bring me the attached materials," Morgans said to the subordinate beside him. His curiosity had already been stirred. What kind of story could make the World Government spend money and expose the fact that they were monitoring him, all just to force this news out?
"President."
"That's all. You may leave."
The moment the documents landed in his hand, Morgans's gaze sharpened.
Marineford reduced to ruins?!
Golden Lion Shiki dead?!
Marine Vice Admiral Zhige?!
Pirate King Roger to be executed in his hometown by Vice Admiral Zhige, the very man who killed Shiki?!
One explosive revelation after another left Morgans momentarily speechless.
He rose from his seat and walked to the window, staring at the distant horizon in an attempt to calm himself.
But there was no calming down.
"This… how is this even possible?" Morgans muttered. "Big news! This is real, era-defining big news!"
"P-President?" Several subordinates stood nearby, hesitant to speak. "So… are we publishing this or not?"
Morgans did not answer immediately. He kept flipping through the material.
"This is… a signal."
His voice dropped lower, as though he had seen through to something deeper. His hands moved faster and faster over the pages.
"A signal?" The staff exchanged confused looks.
Morgans nodded and finally lifted his eyes from the documents.
"Yes. A signal the World Government wants to send to the entire world."
"They're so desperate to spread this message that they're willing to expose the fact that they contacted us directly. They're even paying to make the paper free, just to ensure that this news spreads as quickly as possible to every corner of the sea!"
Under the grave gazes of everyone present, Morgans exhaled slowly and said in a heavy tone, "They want to tell the whole world that the Age of Pirates is over."
"Then what do we do?" someone asked after a brief silence.
Morgans stood up and began pacing around the office. Only after a long pause did he finally make his decision.
"Notify every editor and reporter. We're entering emergency mode."
"Contact that man and tell him to prepare the printing house."
"My boys!"
"Let's make this one count!"
High above the vast sea, an albatross glided beneath the blue sky.
Its wings were broad and white, and each beat was calm and unhurried.
Sunlight filtered through the thin clouds and shone upon its feathers, making them glimmer with silvery light.
The bird circled in the sky, seemingly searching for the ideal drop point.
Then, as a gust of sea wind caught beneath its wings, it pecked open the small satchel on its back and let the newspapers spill out like falling leaves.
The papers unfurled in the wind, page after page flipping beneath the sunlight like dancing sheets of white.
They traced elegant arcs through the air before drifting down toward the sea, or being carried by the wind toward distant ships and islands.
"What? The World Economic News is doing charity today?"
"Grab them, everyone! The papers are free!"
"Even if I can't read, I can still take one home and use it for kindling!"
Grand Line, second half, the New World, near Fooder Vitan Island.
The Moby Dick rocked gently on the sea.
"What's this?"
A blond man with punk-styled hair and wings of blue flames spread behind him shot upward into the sky the moment he saw the newspaper drifting down.
"Gah—gah gah gah!"
The startled albatross fled in a panic, flapping wildly toward the horizon.
But the blond man didn't care. His full attention was already on the newspaper in his hands, and as he read, his expression gradually turned grim.
"Whoa… this is no small matter."
"I need to tell Pops right away."
His blue-flame wings flapped hard, carving a brilliant arc through the sky as he flew straight toward the bow.
"Gurararara!"
On the bow deck, a huge man with a crescent-shaped white mustache curving upward was laughing loudly as he drank.
His blond hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his massive, powerful body lounged lazily on an expensive sofa. One huge arm was draped over the shoulders of a square-faced man with no eyebrows who was already half drunk.
"Gurararara! Jozu, if you're my son, you can't have such lousy tolerance!"
"P-Pops! I can still drink!"
The giant Jozu staggered to his feet and raised his enormous jug high before chugging again.
Thud.
His giant body crashed straight back onto the deck.
Looking at Jozu's flushed, dark-red face, Whitebeard burst into laughter.
"Jozu, you're pathetic."
"Gurararara! Boys, go get Thatch! Tell him to come drink with me!"
"P-Pops!"
"Marco seems to have something urgent!"
"Hm?"
Whitebeard handed off his drink to one of the sons beside him and glanced at Marco, who was rapidly descending from the sky.
It was the first time he had seen his son look this hurried.
"Gurararara! Marco, are you here to spar with your old man?"
Whitebeard reached out with both huge hands and caught Marco neatly before he landed, then gently set him down on the deck.
"Pops, that's not what I mean."
"No, wait, that's not the point right now, Pops!"
"Look at this!"
Marco shoved the newspaper into Whitebeard's hands, his face clouded with worry.
Even Shiki and Roger—two pirates whose names stood alongside Pops—had not escaped the reach of the Marines.
If even they could be brought down, what future awaited them?
Whitebeard took the paper and lifted his drunken face slightly, forcing his eyes open to examine the biggest headline at the top.
Golden Lion Dead! The End of the Pirate King!
"Hm?"
The drunken flush vanished instantly from his face.
Whitebeard's enormous frame trembled once.
Then—
"Gurararara!"
His booming laughter echoed across the entire Moby Dick, leaving the crew momentarily stunned.
No one knew what had happened, but the moment they heard their old man laughing like that, they instinctively began laughing along with him.
"Hahahahaha!"
"Marco!"
"Do you not believe in your old man?"
Whitebeard's huge hand slapped Marco heavily on the shoulder as he feigned anger.
"Your old man is not some sickly weakling like those two."
"I'm the strongest man in the world! Gurararara!"
"Exactly, Marco. You're underestimating Pops."
Vista had somehow appeared behind them, holding a paper of his own as he smiled at Marco.
Seeing everyone like this, Marco's tense expression finally eased.
That's right…
Pops was the strongest.
"Don't worry, boys!"
"When the time comes, just hide behind me! Gurararara!"
Laughing loudly as he looked around at the crew, Whitebeard's fists began glowing with white light.
Then he clenched them and shook them once.
In an instant, the air warped and cracked like glass.
"No matter what danger comes!"
"My spirit will smash every enemy standing before you!"
"Gurararara!"
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