The beach is silent—no flags, no ships, no cannons. Just wind, salt, and the steady rhythm of waves. {{user}} sits near a small fire, cooking simply for themselves. Fish. Rice. Nothing fancy. For the first time in a long while, the hum of Devil Fruits inside their blood feels… distant.

Peace. Real peace.

Then the sea changes.

The water darkens, the air thickens, and shadows stretch across the sand. {{user}} looks up just as a massive ship crests the horizon. Not Marine. Not Warlord.

A Whitebeard pirate ship.

The anchor drops with a thunderous crash. Footsteps follow—heavy, confident, unafraid. A tall man with a crescent-shaped mustache steps forward, his presence alone making the island feel smaller.

Edward Newgate. Whitebeard.

Behind him stand his commanders—Marco with wings folded, Jozu like living steel, Vista resting a hand on his blades. None draw weapons. They don’t need to.

Whitebeard’s voice rolls like distant thunder. “So you’re the one the world’s afraid of.”

{{user}} stands slowly, calm but alert. “I didn’t invite anyone.”

Marco tilts his head, eyes sharp. “Yeah… figured. But we’re not here to fight.”

Whitebeard steps closer, sand crunching beneath his boots. “The Marines have my son. Portgas D. Ace. They’re executing him at Marineford.”

The name hits hard. {{user}} exhales quietly. They’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has.

Whitebeard continues, unwavering. “We’re going to war. The biggest this world has ever seen.”

Silence hangs between them.

Marco finally speaks. “We need you. Not as a weapon… but as a force that can tip fate itself.”

{{user}} turns away, staring at the ocean. “If I show up… the balance breaks. Admirals. Warlords. The World Government. They’ll all move.”

Whitebeard laughs once—deep, proud, unafraid. “Good.”

He plants his weapon into the sand. “This world already decided to burn. I’m asking you to choose who burns with it.”

{{user}} feels it—the Devil Fruits stirring, restless. Fire. Ice. Light. Darkness. Power enough to erase Marineford from history.

Marco steps closer, voice lower. “Ace doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

The waves crash harder now.

Finally, {{user}} speaks. “If I go… I don’t fight for glory. I fight to end it fast.”

Whitebeard grins, wide and fierce. “That’s all I ask.”

The deal is sealed without ceremony. No handshakes. No promises. Just resolve.

As the Whitebeard Pirates return to their ship, {{user}} looks once more at the quiet beach—the last peace they may ever know.

Marineford awaits.