With his stamina, his Domain Expansion would only be larger than Sukuna's, making Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine his strongest Area of Effect ability!
...
The waves of the New World surged endlessly as the massive Moby Dick cut through the swells, sailing toward Marineford.
On the sails, the skull flag of the Whitebeard Pirates fluttered fiercely in the gale, enveloping the entire ship in a solemn and tragic atmosphere.
As the moment to launch the full-scale assault on Marine Headquarters drew closer, Marco's anxiety grew increasingly intense.
When Shadow Garden had initially formed an alliance with them, they had solemnly promised to treat the Old Man's chronic illness and help him fully recover his peak physical condition.
Yet now, with war on the brink, the other party remained silent, without even a single message.
Pacing back and forth on the deck, Marco's brows were furrowed with barely suppressed anger.
"What the hell are those guys doing!" Marco suddenly slammed a fist against the ship's railing, gritting his teeth in fury. "At such a critical moment, they still haven't shown up to fulfill their promise—utterly unreliable!"
Beside him, Diamond Jozu's face was equally grim, his voice filled with resentment:
"In my opinion, we've been completely deceived by Shadow Garden!
From the very beginning, they never truly intended to ally with us. They were just stringing us along, giving us empty promises!"
Their anger quickly spread to many of the surrounding division commanders and crew members, casting an even gloomier atmosphere over the deck.
Sensing his sons' restless anxiety, Whitebeard, seated in the main position, suddenly raised his head, his hearty laughter booming across the entire Moby Dick.
"Gurarararara!" He gripped his bisento, Murakumogiri, with one hand, his white beard trembling with laughter, his tone bold and steady:
"Such trivial matters are not worth worrying about. So what if Shadow Garden breaks their promise? So what if this old man is plagued by illness? Remember, I am Whitebeard!
Rest assured, we will definitely rescue Ace. This time, let's make a grand scene at Marineford!"
These few words struck the members of the Whitebeard Pirates like thunder.
The despondency and unease that had permeated the ship instantly vanished, replaced by fervor and passion.
To them, Whitebeard was their father, their faith, an irreplaceable pillar of strength.
Even though the Old Man was burdened with severe illness, in their hearts, he remained the strongest man standing at the pinnacle of the world.
"That's right. We believe in the Old Man!"
"The Old Man is the world's strongest—he'll definitely save Ace!"
"Hahaha, what's Marine Headquarters? Just a bunch of trash!"
Cheers erupted one after another.
But unlike the other crew members, Marco's heart remained restless and anxious.
As the ship's doctor, he understood Whitebeard's physical condition better than anyone.
The old man before him had long been worn down by illness, his vitality nearly extinguished.
Compared to his peak, or even to a year ago, his strength had significantly declined.
Now, the combat power he could muster was likely less than half of his peak!
Organ failure, muscle atrophy, the eruption of long-accumulated hidden injuries—his body was already on the verge of collapse, utterly incapable of sustaining prolonged, high-intensity battles.
Marco even had a terrifying intuition in his heart—this time, the Old Man might not have planned to return alive at all!
For this legend who had roamed the seas all his life, rather than withering away and dying of old age on a sickbed, it would be far better to die gloriously on a battlefield that captured the world's attention, ending in the most spectacular way.
This was the fate that belonged to Whitebeard.
He understood the reasoning, but emotionally, he simply couldn't accept it.
He wanted the Old Man to live more than anyone else.
This sense of powerlessness and resentment deepened his grudge against the Shadow Garden, which had yet to appear, and he couldn't help but curse again under his breath:
"Damn Shadow Garden, a bunch of lying bastards!"
"Who did you just say was lying?" A calm voice suddenly rang out beside Marco.
Marco jolted, almost thinking he had misheard.
The next moment, he abruptly turned his head, his eyes instantly bursting with unbelievable joy.
A figure clad in dark robes had appeared on the deck at some point, a fox mask covering their face.
The newcomer was none other than Fox, a cadre of the Shadow Garden!
"You're here!" Marco hurried forward, his tone excited. "Does this mean you've found a way to treat the Old Man?"
Ivan shrugged lightly, his tone casual:
"The method has been available for a while. It's just that the conditions weren't sufficient before. Now, they're just right."
"Then what are we waiting for? Come with me!" Marco eagerly stepped aside to lead the way, urging, "Our war with the Marines is about to begin. The Old Man's condition can't wait a moment longer!"
"No need to rush." Ivan spoke calmly, his pace unhurried. "Since I'm here, I will definitely cure Whitebeard. You can rest assured."
The commotion quickly drew the attention of everyone on the ship.
When the crew members saw the distinctive fox mask, they instantly erupted in exclamations.
"It's someone from the Shadow Garden! They've finally come!"
"Excellent! If the Old Man can return to his peak condition, our chances of winning will be much greater!"
Although everyone had absolute faith in Whitebeard, having the world's strongest man fight at his full strength would undoubtedly add the most solid guarantee to this war.
Surrounded by the crowd, Ivan slowly walked up to Whitebeard.
He raised his gaze, activated his Observation Haki, and scanned the other's body.
After a moment, he spoke plainly:
"Your physical condition is even worse than I imagined. If not for your monstrous vitality, you would have collapsed long ago."
Whitebeard threw his head back and laughed, still exuding his fearless, heroic demeanor:
"Gurarararara! I am Whitebeard! This little illness isn't enough to bring me down. Even without treatment, it won't make much difference!"
"In that case, I won't treat you." Ivan suddenly said lightly.
Whitebeard's booming laughter abruptly stopped, caught in his throat.
His earlier heroic display had merely been to reassure his sons.
No one understood the agony of being plagued by illness better than him, and no one longed for restored health more than he did.
Seeing Whitebeard's rare moment of awkwardness, Ivan chuckled softly:
"Just kidding. Let's begin the treatment now."
As his words fell, under everyone's watchful eyes, Ivan slowly levitated, hovering directly in front of Whitebeard.
He extended a finger and gently tapped it on Whitebeard's forehead.
This scene left the surrounding members of the Whitebeard Pirates looking puzzled, whispering among themselves.
"What is Fox doing?"
"Just a tap with a finger—can that really cure the Old Man's long-standing illness? Will this method actually work?"
"Isn't this too reckless?"
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
The earth-shattering phenomenon they had imagined did not appear. The air remained eerily calm.