Vice-captain of Whitebeard pirates

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"Hello, hello, my name is Marco. Let's take good care of each other from now on."

Marco shrugged off any concerns about being the captain of the first team as he observed Gangplank's attitude toward him. He noticed that there were only four of them in the Whitebeard Pirates now, and being called the captain of the first team felt like a joke—it was just a nice title.

He also recognized that Plank had probably been aboard this ship longer than he had, so it would be foolish for him to assert authority given Larson's playful comments.

At this moment, Larson called out from a distance, "Plank, sail the ship!"

"Yes!"

Plank immediately responded.

Seeing the busy Plank, Marco turned to Larson, curiosity evident in his eyes. "Is there anything I can do?"

Larson, lifting dumbbells to exercise, thought for a moment before asking, "Have you learned anything before?"

Marco scratched his head. "When I was on the island, I studied medical skills for a while with a master..."

Larson interjected, "...Forget it. Your captain said you are a Devil Fruit user. What Devil Fruit did you eat?"

Larson found it quite amusing to pretend he didn't already know the answer.

"I don't know what kind of fruit I ate..." Marco admitted, a bit embarrassed.

Larson encouraged him, "Try and demonstrate your ability."

As Marco mentioned his powers, Whitebeard stepped out of the cabin, carrying a barrel of wine, his interest piqued.

Marco closed his eyes, and in the next instant, blue flames erupted around him.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Larson and Whitebeard before him. "This is my Devil Fruit ability."

Whitebeard frowned. "The flames don't seem to have any heat; they don't appear to be natural."

Larson pretended to contemplate. "This should be a Zoan-type fruit."

"Zoan?" Whitebeard replied, astonished. He had seen what Zoan fruits looked like before, as they would transform the user's body into that of an animal, but the characteristics of Marco's fruit were unlike anything he had encountered.

"It must be a legendary Zoan-type fruit, perhaps the Phoenix Fruit," Larson concluded. He shared the power description, causing Marco's eyes to widen in disbelief.

"I'm that strong?!"

"It's your Devil Fruit that holds the strength," Larson corrected him.

According to Marco's account, he had just consumed this fruit recently and suffered no injuries while doing so, explaining why he was unaware of its full power.

Rubbing Marco's head with a smile, Larson said, "Kid, this fruit of yours is very powerful. You need to develop it well."

Marco, feeling a tinge of dissatisfaction, replied, "Can you stop calling me 'kid' all the time? I have a name, you know!"

Larson smiled back. "Whenever you can beat me, then you can tell me what to call you!"

Marco's spirit fell. Considering Larson's earlier display of strength against the pirate, he doubted he would ever defeat him.

"Marco!"

Marco looked up to see Whitebeard grinning down at him.

"Pops..."

Whitebeard's towering figure loomed, forcing Marco to look up to meet his gaze.

"Work hard to become a strong man on this sea. I believe you will be able to defeat Larson one day!"

Marco's determination solidified as he clenched his fists, passion igniting in his heart. "Yes!"

Larson chuckled. "Captain, you just said that casually. Don't take it to heart."

"Hey, hey!"

Marco playfully stuck out his tongue at Larson before scurrying away.

"This kid," Larson said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Pops, where should we go next?"

Marco turned around, looking eagerly at Whitebeard. This was also the question that Plank had asked him to communicate.

Whitebeard turned to Larson. "Larson, where do you want to go?"

"You make the call. You are the captain, after all. Isn't it more fitting for you to decide where we're headed?"

Larson preferred to let Whitebeard take the lead because he felt that following Whitebeard's ideas would eventually lead them to meet the crew members of the Whitebeard Pirates he remembered from the original tale.

Without hesitation, Whitebeard pointed his naginata forward. "It doesn't matter where we go, just keep moving forward!"

This aspect of Whitebeard's character exemplified the freedom and carefree nature of the Whitebeard Pirates. They had no set destination—they ventured wherever the sea took them.

"Let's set sail!"

With Marco's enthusiastic shout, the Whitebeard Pirates cast off into the sea once more!

One day later...

"Cheers!"

"Drink up!"

"Another round!"

"Kid, when the drink is gone, bring another barrel!"

On the pirate ship, Larson looked at his empty glass with dissatisfaction as he lounged on his chair.

From a distance, Marco could be heard groaning, "Why can't you just take it easy?!"

The slight, lean Marco was struggling to carry a massive wine barrel that was comically disproportionate to his frame.

Bang!

As he dropped the barrel onto the ground, Marco collapsed next to it, utterly exhausted.

Larson teased with a grin, "You've got the lowest rank on this ship now, so your job is to work like a coolie."

Marco protested, "But Gangplank is still a crew member, and I'm the captain of the first team! I should be able to order him around!"

Gangplank, standing a bit further away, sheepishly replied, "Let me do all the work from now on."

"Not necessary."

Larson smiled and narrowed his eyes. "From now on, you're the captain of the second division."

Marco was stunned, and Gangplank's eyes widened in disbelief.

Whitebeard, reclining in his chair beside Larson, couldn't help but chuckle.

Marco's expression morphed into one of realization; he now understood that his position as the first captain might have been all for show.

In essence, whether his title meant anything at all was solely at Larson's discretion.

Shuffling away, Marco sulked in a corner, grappling with his lament over the gold coins he had squandered.

Just then, several seagulls soared above, dropping newspapers gracefully from the sky, landing on the deck of Larson's pirate ship.

"What?"

Marco picked one up and glanced at it casually, only for his expression to freeze in shock.

"One, ten, one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand, one million, ten million, one billion!"

He looked toward the two men nearby, who were still reclining on their chairs, drinking leisurely, and his disbelief overwhelmed him as he stared at the newspaper in his hand.

"What's wrong, kid?"

Hearing the concern in Larson's voice, Whitebeard turned to glance at Marco.

"No, it's fine," Marco stammered, trying to hide his bewilderment.

Larson lazily remarked, "The wine is nearly finished; you better fetch another barrel."

"Okay, okay."

This time, Marco stood and rushed to comply without hesitation.

Larson couldn't help but note, "Has this kid suddenly changed his demeanor?"

Just then, a gust of wind swept through, blowing the newspapers scattered across the deck.

Larson grabbed one, and immediately, he understood the cause of Marco's sudden shift in behavior.

"What's wrong, Larson?"

Seeing Larson's lack of movement, Whitebeard looked over, puzzled.

"It's nothing," Larson replied, tossing the newspaper aside to let it flutter off into the sea.

He gazed out at the distant waves with a smile on his face. "In that case, Auntie and the others should be safe."

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