Soon, Marco boarded the Red Hair Pirates' ship with a few companions. The moment he stepped onto the deck, his eyes landed on Shanks sitting at the far end.
Shanks leaned back in his chair, one hand supporting his chin, mirroring the same relaxed yet domineering posture Lloyd once had while sitting atop a mast. A faint smile rested on his lips as he looked at Marco.
Marco remained unfazed. This was not their first encounter.
In fact, Marco was six years older than Shanks. Back then, they had stood on opposite ships as apprentice pirates, Marco under Whitebeard, and Shanks under Gol D. Roger. Time had reshaped everything. Shanks now stood as one of the Four Emperors, while Marco had risen to the position of First Division Commander.
Marco's achievements were impressive, but beside Shanks, they felt diminished.
That was the difference in talent.
Raising his hand casually, Marco greeted him.
"Yo, Red Hair."
Shanks smiled, his tone light.
"Marco, did you come here to join my crew?"
Marco rubbed his forehead, tilting his head back slightly in irritation.
"What nonsense are you talking about? I came to discuss something."
Shanks narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Discuss something with me? Hmm. Did Newgate send you?"
Marco paused. From the moment he boarded, something about Shanks felt off. The man used to carry a trace of quiet melancholy, but now, that feeling had completely vanished.
Frowning slightly, Marco nodded.
"That's right. The Old Man wanted me to..."
Before he could finish, Shanks interrupted him without hesitation.
"If that's the case, then let him come and speak to me himself. You are not enough."
"What?!"
Marco's expression darkened instantly, anger flashing across his face. Still, he forced it down, aware of the gravity of his mission.
"Red Hair... Captain. Do you want your crew wiped out?"
Shanks burst into laughter. Then, just as suddenly, he fell silent.
"How interesting..."
He slowly raised his head.
Golden dragon horns emerged from his skull. His eyes opened slightly, and a deep crimson Haoshoku Haki erupted outward, thick and tangible like a storm made real.
Marco and his companions were caught directly in its path. Their eyes widened in shock. In the next instant, everyone except Marco collapsed, unconscious.
Sweat formed on Marco's forehead as he instinctively took a defensive stance, staring straight at Shanks.
Behind Shanks, a massive red dragon coiled in the air.
It was the manifestation of his Haoshoku Haki.
The pressure was overwhelming.
Blue flames ignited around Marco as he activated his Devil Fruit. His right arm transformed into a massive wing of azure fire as he entered a partial beast form, drawing power from the Tori Tori no Mi Model Phoenix.
Two Mythical Zoan powers clashed.
Red and blue collided violently across the deck. But within moments, the blue flames were forced back, compressed into a shrinking space under the crushing dominance of Shanks's Haki.
Shanks rose to his feet and walked toward Marco, step by step.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
By the time he stood before him, Marco had already dropped to one knee. Slowly, Marco lifted his head, shock written all over his face.
Shanks seemed taller now.
And those horns...
They were not human.
As a fellow Mythical Zoan user, Marco quickly formed a conclusion. Gritting his teeth against the overwhelming pressure, he spoke.
"You ate a Devil Fruit... a Zoan, right?"
Shanks smiled faintly.
"Yes. Do you want to see it?"
Before Marco could respond, Shanks's body expanded.
Scarlet scales covered his form, shimmering under the sunlight. The golden horns grew larger, radiating a brilliant glow.
Marco's eyes widened in disbelief.
"There is no mistake... This is Kaido's Devil Fruit! How did you obtain it so quickly?!"
Shanks returned to normal, his expression calm.
"Why couldn't it have chosen me?"
Behind him, Benn Beckman twitched slightly, but said nothing.
Marco fell silent.
He understood too well what this meant.
Mythical Zoan fruits granted terrifying enhancements. Combined with Shanks's mastery of Haki and physical combat, his strength had reached an unimaginable level.
And Shanks was only thirty-seven.
A bitter feeling rose in Marco's chest as he thought of the aging Whitebeard, burdened by wounds and illness.
That era was ending.
In both the Navy and the pirate world, each generation produced its monsters.
The last belonged to Roger and Monkey D. Garp.
This one would belong to Lloyd and Shanks.
The realization drained Marco of strength. He swayed slightly before letting out a bitter laugh.
"I came here today... to propose cooperation."
Shanks tilted his head slightly.
"Cooperation? The Whitebeard Pirates want to ally with us to oppose the Navy?"
Marco glanced briefly at Beckman, then nodded.
Shanks smiled.
"Just as I expected."
His smile faded.
"I refuse."
The blunt rejection froze Marco in place.
"But now..."
Shanks raised a finger, silencing him.
"How can a Pirate King form alliances?"