At the sound of Blackbeard's roar—thick with fury and unwilling frustration—Gern Reginald Sigmar's expression did not change in the slightest.
He didn't even raise an eyebrow.
He merely tilted his head a fraction, as if idly mulling over something trivial, and in a tone so calm it almost sounded like he was speaking to himself, he repeated:
"'Emperor of the Sea'…?"
The instant the words fell—
Buzz—!!!
A presence condensed to its absolute limit erupted from Gern's body.
Heavy. Bottomless. A dark, abyssal violet.
It did not spread outward like a shockwave.It did not crash indiscriminately across the surroundings.
It was focused—compressed to the extreme.
Locked.
Gern's left hand moved naturally, almost lazily, resting against the hilt of the black blade at his right hip—Yahachi. His fingers curled, gripping it.
The motion was small. Subtle. He didn't even draw the sword.
And yet—
The moment his hand touched the hilt, that dark-violet Conqueror's Haki burst forth from the blade itself like a roaring beast!
It did not expand in a dome.It did not attempt to overwhelm the entire battlefield.It did not stir the heavens or split the clouds.
Instead, it compressed in midair—condensed into a single, razor-focused strand.
A bolt.
No thicker than an arm, yet so solid it resembled crystallized lightning.
Ignoring distance. Ignoring space.
It struck—directly, unerringly—wrapping itself around Marshall D. Teach.
"Zzzzzzt—!!!"
This was not electricity.
It was something far worse.
A crushing domination of will.An interference at the level of the soul itself.
Blackbeard's entire body convulsed violently.
It felt as though an invisible mountain had collapsed onto him from above!
His body grew unbearably heavy—but that wasn't the most terrifying part.
The truly horrifying thing was—
The two powers he relied upon to dominate the seas—
The darkness of the Dark-Dark Fruit…The quaking force of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit…
Under the suppression of this pure, tyrannical Conqueror's Haki—
They were instantly nullified.
He tried to summon them—
But the connection felt sluggish… distant… distorted…
As if something was forcibly severing the link between him and his own powers.
"Ugh…! Gh—ah…!"
Veins bulged across his forehead. Sweat poured down his face and neck like a broken dam.
A choked groan escaped his throat as his legs gave out beneath him.
He staggered—
Then collapsed.
One knee slammed into the cold, unforgiving stone of the dock.
He barely managed to keep himself from completely crumpling by bracing both hands against the ground.
And even more terrifying—
Standing just beside him, merely brushed by the residual ripple of that condensed Haki—
"Demon Sheriff" Laffitte, a pirate commander worth over a hundred million, with iron will and hardened nerves—
Did not even have time to scream.
His pupils dilated instantly.
A flash of absolute terror—and emptiness—passed through his eyes.
Then—
Thud.
He fell flat onto the ground.
Unconscious.
Just proximity—just the aftershock—was enough to knock out a pirate of that caliber instantly.
In the distance, those who had not yet fully departed—foreign representatives and Marine soldiers alike—watched in stunned silence.
A collective breath was drawn.
Only now did they begin to grasp, in the most visceral way possible, the true terror of the Marine Fleet Admiral standing before them.
"What… what the hell kind of Conqueror's Haki is this…?!"
Blackbeard forced his head up, still half-kneeling, his eyes filled with a bone-deep terror he could not conceal.
They locked onto the man ahead—
The man who had not even drawn his sword.
This…
This is why… this is why I hate monsters like them…!
Those relics from the old era—
Every single one of them—
Their Conqueror's Haki was absurdly powerful.
Unreasonable.
Overwhelming to the point of despair.
Whitebeard.Red-Haired Shanks.And now—Gern before him…
Even worse.
Gern slowly released his grip on the sword.
The suffocating, dark-violet lightning faded away just as silently as it had appeared—like it had never existed.
But the lingering pressure in the air—
And Blackbeard's clothes, already soaked through with sweat—
Proved that what had just happened was no illusion.
Gern lowered his gaze slightly, looking down at the kneeling, disheveled pirate.
His voice was calm.
But each word fell like a mountain crashing down.
"Blackbeard."
"'Emperor of the Sea'…"
"Kaido—I acknowledge his strength, and the title of 'strongest creature.'"
"Whitebeard—I acknowledge the weight he carried, and the might of the world's strongest man."
"Red-Hair—I acknowledge his influence and command."
"Even Big Mom—I acknowledge the terrifying power and dominion behind her twisted dream of a 'nation of all races.'"
"Because all of them…"
He paused.
"…require me to take them seriously."
Then his eyes sharpened.
Cold. Absolute.
Filled with naked disdain.
"But you… Marshall D. Teach?"
"An Emperor?"
Gern let out a faint scoff.
A laugh filled with undisguised contempt.
"Heh."
"In front of me…"
He shook his head slightly.
"…you're nowhere near…"
"qualified."
"—!!!"
Blackbeard's body trembled violently where he knelt.
Whether from the remnants of that crushing Haki—
Or from the sheer humiliation and rage burning inside him—
Even he could not tell.
Gern's words were like a red-hot brand, seared into the title he prized above all else—
Emperor of the Sea.
And deeper still—
Into that ambition buried in his heart—the desire to be acknowledged… to be feared.
In the face of absolute superiority in power and will—
All his schemes, his calculations, his twin Devil Fruit abilities—
Felt like nothing more than cheap decorations.
Stripped bare.
This so-called "tyrant of the new era"—
Before Fleet Admiral Gern Reginald Sigmar, the "Heaven-Shaker"—
Had every illusion, every layer of false grandeur, torn away.
All that remained—
Was a man on his knees.
And a title he was deemed unworthy to bear.
Gern no longer spared him another glance.
He turned.
Slowly.
Leaving Blackbeard kneeling behind him, still shaken, still reeling—
And took a step forward.
Then another.
Only one final sentence remained.
Cold.
Dismissive.
"Get lost."
"That pathetic, helpless display—who are you trying to show it to?"
His steps paused briefly.
He didn't turn back.
"After all… a scavenger who hides in the shadows, scheming and stealing the power of others…"
"Even if luck handed you two Devil Fruits…"
"You should know this much."
On this sea—
The thing that stands above everything else has never been power stolen… or tricks played.
"It has always been…"
"Haki."
"And above all…"
Gern finally tilted his head slightly, casting a sideways glance from the corner of his eye—
At the pale-faced man still kneeling behind him.
"Conqueror's Haki."
"And you…"
His voice dropped to a quiet, cutting edge.
"…have never shown even a trace of it."
"Not once."
"Not even when faced with that 'insignificant' pressure just now."
He paused.
Almost thoughtfully.
"Sometimes, I really can't tell…"
"Are you pretending…"
"Or have you simply never possessed it at all?"
With that—
Gern stepped forward once more.
And walked away.
Leaving behind only silence—
And a shattered Emperor.
(As of now, it has not been explicitly confirmed whether Blackbeard possesses Conqueror's Haki.)