Lucian Thorn said nothing more.
For a warrior who had already steeled his resolve, words were unnecessary.
With a low shout, his figure blurred like a ghost, appearing instantly in front of Marco's Phoenix form.
"Come!"
Marco's piercing phoenix cry tore through the skies, and in those bird eyes, there was nothing but a madness that disregarded life and death.
"Good!"
Lucian echoed with a sharp cry.
Then, without hesitation, he slammed the concentrated "miniature sun" directly into Marco's chest!
Time froze.
One second…
Two seconds…
Marco's massive phoenix body remained frozen in mid-air.
Then—
"IT HURTS!!!"
A shriek of agony burst from Marco's throat, so guttural it sounded like the collective torture of every hell imaginable.
BOOM!
His blue flames vanished in an instant.
Evaporated.
Obliterated.
Not extinguished—but erased at the root of their existence.
Divine Flame—entered the body.
Marco's body no longer belonged to him.
That mini sun wasn't burning—it was dismantling.
Every cell fused with his Devil Fruit, every resilient bone, every drop of life-imbued blood was deconstructed down to its most primitive particles under that overwhelming golden force.
Pain—
The word wasn't enough.
No language could describe the torment.
Inside and out, every gap in his flesh, every cell, felt like it was being pierced by billions of searing-hot silver needles simultaneously.
"AAAAAAHHHH!!!"
Marco's giant phoenix body writhed mid-air, twisting and flailing. His colossal wings thrashed wildly, generating winds that pulverized the ground beneath them.
Cracks began forming on the surface of his body—like a porcelain vessel on the verge of shattering.
No blood leaked from those cracks.
Only blinding golden light.
Beneath the shell of his body… was a sun, ready to explode.
His Flame of Regeneration was pushed back—dimming visibly.
Marco's life force was draining at a pace faster than ever before.
His Devil Fruit ability—his very identity as the Phoenix—was being torn apart by this divine yet ruthless power.
[Give up…]
A voice echoed in the depths of his mind.
[It hurts too much… stop resisting, and it will all end.]
[You'll find peace—eternal peace…]
Wave after wave of agony assaulted his will.
Marco's consciousness began to fade. His struggles weakened.
The urge to surrender grew stronger.
'Yeah... it hurts too much...'
'Maybe… it should just end here…'
At the very brink of collapse—
Flashes of memory exploded in his mind.
Whitebeard. Ace. Jozu. Vista. Thatch...
The faces of every family member in the Whitebeard Pirates.
They were smiling at him. Calling out to him.
"Marco!!!"
"First Division Commander!!!"
"You are the pride of the Whitebeard Pirates!!!"
'No.'
'I can't fall.'
'I'm the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates—the shield that protects this family.'
'If I can't even endure this pain, how can I call myself that?'
'How can I protect them?'
"ROAAARRR!!!"
A roar exploded in his spiritual world.
A will on the verge of collapse was reignited with boundless fuel—and blazed forth!
'Give up?'
'To hell with that!'
Marco stopped struggling. Stopped resisting.
He made a decision that even Lucian hadn't anticipated—
He opened himself fully.
And welcomed the raging Divine Flame into him with an overwhelming, thunderous will.
'Come on.'
'Isn't this a tempering?'
'Then hit me harder.'
'I'm Marco, First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. If I so much as frown—I'm not worthy of being Pops' son!'
BOOM!
That decisive will stirred something deep within.
His Devil Fruit factors, which had been disintegrating, stopped unraveling.
They no longer passively endured the Divine Flame—but began to actively, hungrily, and wildly—
Clash. Intertwine. Fuse.
This was a perilous process.
Two fundamentally different forces waged war inside him in the most primitive form of fusion.
Marco's body—was the battlefield.
His blue regenerative flames were crushed into dust—dispersed completely, to the extreme.
Until they vanished.
And just as the last traces of "blue" were about to be wiped out, and his entire body about to become a vessel of pure golden energy—
At the heart of this destruction and rebirth—
In the deepest part of the sea of golden divine power—
A spark…
A brand-new spark of flame was born.
No longer blue.
Golden.
The moment that spark appeared—it radiated a power completely different from the previous flames. Destructive. Dominant.
The remaining fragments of blue flame were instantly devoured—turned into fuel.
The still-writhing Divine Flame, upon touching this newborn gold fire, no longer destroyed it—
But gently, willingly, merged into it.
A single spark can ignite a prairie fire.
This tiny golden flame grew at impossible speed.
One thread became a stream.
A stream became a blaze.
The blaze—became a divine inferno that could burn all creation.
Ahh… yes… YES!
The screams of agony ceased.
In their place—was a clear, soaring cry filled with rebirth and joy.
A thick golden pillar of light burst from Marco's body—shooting skyward, piercing the clouds and splitting the heavens.
The entire island shook violently under the divine and overwhelming aura.
Back on the Moby Dick, several kilometers away, the crew who had been drinking and keeping watch on deck suddenly witnessed the earth-shattering spectacle.
"Wha… what is that?!"
A crewmate pointed to the distant sky, dropping his barrel in shock.
"That energy… it's terrifying! Is it Lucian and Commander Marco?!"
Whitebeard suddenly stood up.
His eyes—restored to peak power—locked onto that pillar of golden light. He felt the divine presence within, both familiar and unfamiliar.
He grinned.
"Gurararara…"
His laughter was filled with boundless pride and joy.
"Looks like my son…"
"Has seized his moment."
Back on the island, the golden light receded.
And from mid-air—a figure appeared.
No longer the blue Phoenix.
But a divine bird, bathed entirely in radiant golden flames.
Its body was more majestic. More elegant. Its wings stretched wide enough to blot out the sun.
Each feather was forged from pure liquid gold, flowing with divine light.
Even just hovering there—it radiated a terrifying pressure.
Within it—
Burned the power to annihilate all.
The Golden Phoenix circled once, then descended to the ground.
The dazzling golden flame drew inward, and Marco returned to human form.
Still the pineapple-haired man with his laid-back air—but now, his body glowed faintly with a golden, star-dust-like flame.
His half-lidded eyes now brimmed with excitement.
He raised his hands, gazing at the golden flame dancing in his palm—flame born of his own will.
And he could feel it—
What kind of power now surged within him.
He was stronger.
Maybe…
Maybe he had touched the threshold of an Emperor…
Marco parted his lips, his voice dreamy and full of disbelief.
"This is…"
"The power… of the Sun?"
In the next instant, he lifted his head.
Those once lazy eyes were now wide open—burning with unprecedented longing, curiosity, and the will to fight.
He looked toward Lucian, who stood nearby with a calm smile.
His eyes—were filled with gratitude.