Sphinx Island. Ortoren's figure appeared at the harbor, accompanied by flashes of lightning. Gion had been waiting there for quite some time.
As soon as he arrived, Gion immediately led Ortoren onto the merchant ship.
The ship's captain stood nervously on deck, glancing at Ortoren as he asked, "Ortoren-sama, can we set sail?"
"Go ahead," Ortoren replied with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, the Whitebeard Pirates won't stop us."
Hearing his clear answer, the captain finally exhaled, swallowed hard, and hurried off to give the order to depart.
Only then did Gion turn to look at the Moby Dick in the distance and the undamaged harbor. He said in disbelief, "At such a close distance, your fight was at full power—at least on your part. Yet it didn't affect us at all... That's surprising. I thought the two of you would shake the heavens."
"It wasn't a large-scale war," Ortoren said matter-of-factly. "That's why it didn't need to be destructive. When you fight with everything you've got, there's no need for extra testing or clashing of wills. That way, all your power stays locked on one enemy. If you can't even manage that much, you've no right to call yourself the strongest."
In that state, even the Moby Dick had barely been affected. If it had happened in a city, maybe one street would've been destroyed at most. Whitebeard could easily sink an island with a single move, but if he fought seriously, he could also ensure that his battles left the outside world untouched.
Control—that's true mastery.
The merchant ship sailed around the Moby Dick, so Ortoren and Newgate didn't exchange any parting glances as they drifted apart.
Once the ship had fully left Sphinx Island, it began to accelerate rapidly. The captain seemed desperate for the ship to sprout two more masts, as if it could sprint across the sea.
Ortoren now sat on a passenger chair on deck while Gion, holding a roll of bandages, carefully wrapped his injured hand and cleaned the decayed flesh between his knuckles.
Ortoren wasn't a Zoan-type awakening user, nor did he possess any extraordinary healing abilities. Still, his injuries weren't severe—just a few days of rest would restore him completely.
In fact, the wounds he'd received from Kozuki Oden had been worse than the ones from Whitebeard.
After bandaging his hand, Gion gestured for him to remove his torn shirt, revealing a broad, muscular chest as she began cleaning the sword wounds.
Anyone else would've been screaming from the pain, especially without anesthetic, but Ortoren sat upright and unmoving. He let Gion peel open the torn flesh and clear out the filth without so much as a frown.
He even calmly took out his Den Den Mushi and called Admiral Sengoku.
The Admiral had clearly been waiting—he answered before the second ring.
"Ortoren!?"
"It's me, Admiral," Ortoren replied immediately.
Hearing his steady voice, Sengoku exhaled in relief.
"So, it's settled then?"
"Yes," Ortoren said with a faint smile. "I traded three blows with Whitebeard. He had no intention of stopping me. It's over. They won't retaliate against the Marines."
Ortoren had spoken thus, and Admiral Sengoku did not doubt his words. Instead, he asked, "How does it feel?"
"Powerful!" Ortoren gave an immediate, decisive reply.
"Heh heh heh..." Admiral Sengoku chuckled softly. "Our Navy is known as the Overlord of the Seas, filled with masters. Yet the title of 'strongest' has always remained in that man Whitebeard's hands. Now, do you understand the true weight of that title?"
Ortoren could now fully grasp the meaning behind those words. He had crossed blades with Kozuki Oden and even struck Jozu. Though he hadn't fought Marco, he doubted that Marco was stronger than Oden.
From those battles, Ortoren could tell that the Whitebeard Pirates' overall strength was indeed formidable—but only that. Among them, only Kozuki Oden had yet to reach his full potential. Perhaps one day he could enter the ranks of the true top fighters, but the others had little chance of doing so.
Within the entire crew, only Whitebeard himself stood above the rest. By comparison, Marine Headquarters was a gathering place of the world's elite—Zephyr-sensei, Admiral Sengoku, and Fleet Admiral Kong were all forces to be reckoned with. Add in figures like Garp-san and Chief Staff Officer Tsuru, and their combined might completely overshadowed the Whitebeard Pirates.
Yet even so, Sengoku and the others still chose not to provoke Whitebeard's crew. And the title of "strongest" remained in pirate hands—a clear testament to the terrifying weight of Whitebeard's power and presence.
"I understand its worth," Ortoren replied softly. "But now, I've already touched his back. I've seen the outline of that throne—the throne of the strongest, Admiral."
His words made Sengoku pause in surprise on the other end of the Den Den Mushi. That surprise quickly turned to joy and pride.
"You were only eighteen when you joined the Marines, weren't you?" Sengoku asked with a trace of nostalgia.
"Yes. At the end of Sea Circle Calendar 1495, Garp-san brought me to Marineford. I became Zephyr-sensei's student at the beginning of 1496..." Ortoren replied, a hint of emotion in his voice.
"Now it's almost 1504. Time really flies. In the blink of an eye, it's nearly been ten years since you joined us," Sengoku said with a sigh.
In 1495, Ortoren had been eighteen. Now, as 1504 approached, he was twenty-seven—almost thirty.
"It really has gone by fast..." Ortoren smiled faintly.
"I still remember when you first arrived. You were gifted, but you couldn't yet stand on your own. That old man Garp picked you up because you couldn't even withstand the shockwaves from his battle with Roger—you passed out from the aftershocks, didn't you?" Sengoku said, laughing at the memory.
Thinking back, Ortoren couldn't help but chuckle and nod. "Yeah, back then, I was just thrilled to witness a fight between the two greatest men in the world up close..."
"Now, though, you've already earned the right to stand before the strongest man, Whitebeard—Edward Newgate—and challenge him, Ortoren," Sengoku murmured.
In less than ten years, the once-unknown Ortoren had risen to the very summit of the sea's power. His growth amazed and delighted Sengoku.
More importantly, Ortoren was still in his prime. At twenty-seven, with his extraordinary physique, he likely wouldn't show any signs of decline even past sixty—perhaps not even then.
His body was that of a monster. Sengoku truly believed that in the next twenty years, in terms of personal strength, the era of the seas would belong to Ortoren.
This was simply the last few years of transition—from the strongest of the old era to the strongest of the new.
Before Ortoren could respond, Sengoku's tone turned serious. "How long do you think it'll take before you can face Whitebeard head-on and be confident in victory?"
"Five years at most," Ortoren answered after a moment's thought. "Maybe even sooner—by thirty, I might be ready. Haven't you noticed how stable my mental state has been lately? During the last full moon, I kept my violent side under full control for over an hour. I believe that within five years, I'll completely cure my condition. Once I can freely control my Sulong form, the title of strongest will change hands."
"You rule G-5 on your own. Even Gion and Isshō can't match you. But your progress still feels a bit slow," Sengoku said, half-serious, half-teasing. "Why not visit headquarters more often? I'll get Garp, Zephyr, even the Fleet Admiral to help me beat you up. Maybe if we thrash you a few times, you'll be cured before you're thirty."
Ortoren frowned, hesitated, then asked, "Admiral, are you sure you're not just worried that if you don't make your move now, you won't be able to beat me later—and this is just your excuse to take a swing at me?"
Sengoku froze for a moment, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face at being seen through. But he quickly recovered and said stubbornly, "Of course not. This is just the care and concern of a senior for his promising junior. Don't overthink it."
...
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