At that moment, on the eastern shoreline of Loguetown, three Class-3 Marine warships and three Class-4 warships were bombarding several pirate ships stranded along the beach. In retaliation, the pirates—centered around the massive Chris—fired back with everything they had.
In terms of sheer numbers, the pirates had the advantage, boasting fifteen ships against the Marines' six. Two of the Class-3 warships hailed from Marine Headquarters, while the rest belonged to Loguetown's local garrison. But in firepower, the disparity was overwhelming. Aside from the Chris, most of the pirate vessels were only 40 to 50 meters long—some stretched to 70 or 80 at most—and their cannons were wildly inconsistent. Many were low-grade 12-pounders or even 8-pounders, mostly repurposed land artillery, and they were few in number.
If the Chris hadn't borne the brunt of the assault, those sorry excuses for pirate ships would've been reduced to floating scrap in no time.
While cannon fire raged at sea, nearly a thousand Marines rowed ashore in small boats. Led by two Captains from Headquarters—along with a Commander still aboard ship, coordinating bombardment and artillery support—they launched a full-scale assault on the pirates dug in along the beach, pushing them back step by step.
Fortunately, reinforcements arrived just in time. Arlan, Gorbo, and Dimitri had rallied several smaller crews—each with a few dozen members—and some scattered fighters from larger pirate crews. Altogether, their numbers swelled past 400. Upon learning of Arlan's identity, the pirates willingly followed his lead and rushed to the eastern beach to block the Marines' advance.
One of the Headquarters Captains was intercepted by Arlan himself. The other was held off by Gorbo and Dimitri, working in tandem. Now nearly 2,000 combatants clashed on the beach, neither side able to gain the upper hand. The sand ran red with blood, and even the sea itself was stained crimson.
Main Street, Loguetown.
High above the town square, two figures clashed violently in midair. Aeridar crossed his arms in a block, intercepting a kick from Evans. The sheer force behind the blow drove Aeridar downward, but as he fell, he reached out and caught Evans' leg, dragging him down with him.
Stone shattered and smoke exploded outward as they slammed into the street, forming yet another crater in the ground. Across that crater, the two men stood facing each other once more.
"I underestimated you," Evans growled, his tone grim. "No wonder you managed to take out Mori. I think I've figured out your Devil Fruit ability."
His white suit was tattered, caked in dust and grime, his slick demeanor shaken.
"Is that so?" Aeridar clapped dust off his shoulders, his gaze narrowing. "You still haven't gone all out yet, have you?"
Evans let out a dark chuckle. "Heh... So you noticed. Yeah. I picked this up by accident, on a mission."
Aeridar's eyes widened. "A Devil Fruit...?"
"That's right!" Evans roared. His body suddenly began to swell, shredding his clothes as white fur erupted across his limbs. His head elongated, nails growing into vicious claws. A blast of icy air burst forth from his skin, so chilling that Aeridar shivered on reflex.
In mere seconds, Evans had transformed into a massive humanoid wolf—three meters tall, with razor fangs, blue-white eyes, and frost forming in a radius around him.
"Zoan-type... Ancient Zoan? Mythical Zoan?" Aeridar muttered, frowning. The cold emanating from the creature gave him pause.
"Impressive. You even know the classifications," rumbled the white wolf, his voice deep and low. His chilling gaze never left Aeridar. "I don't mind telling you—I ate the Ancient Zoan–Snowfang Wolf Fruit."
(Original Devil Fruit, not canon—don't mind the naming.)
"An Ancient Zoan... I thought it was a Mythical type," Aeridar said quietly. "Makes sense, if your commanding officer is Admiral Kizaru."
Now it all fit together. The Snowfang Wolf was a creature of the prehistoric frozen lands, similar in status to dinosaurs—ancient, powerful, and rare. Unlike most Zoan types, Snowfangs possessed a passive freezing ability. Those who merely touched one risked frostbite—or worse, full-body freeze.
"I thought it was Mythical too, at first," Evans admitted, flexing his clawed fingers. "Even though it's Ancient, its powers are borderline supernatural. And yeah—Kizaru is my commanding officer."
"Devil Fruits or not," Aeridar cracked his neck with a sharp pop, "I'll find out everything I need to know in the next few minutes."
In a flash, his feet stomped the ground over a dozen times, then he vanished from view.
"So full of energy," Evans chuckled. He too disappeared.
A dull explosion echoed through the street as their fists collided, generating a shockwave so intense it splintered the pavement beneath their feet.
"Ice powers..." Aeridar muttered, watching frost creep along his arm from the point of impact.
"Impressive, right?" Evans said proudly, shaking his enormous wolfish head.
"Just a passive ability." With a surge of Haki, Aeridar flexed his arms and shattered the frost encasing them, forcing Evans back.
"Smart bastard." Evans felt the pressure and chose not to resist directly. He flipped through the air, landing ten meters away.
"I guess it's time I stopped holding back. Let me show you—Devil Fruit powers aren't invincible."
With a feral snarl, Evans spread his claws. They gleamed with icy light as he leapt forward, aiming straight for Aeridar's head. The air whistled with the force of his strike—it was a blow that could tear through stone.
Aeridar reacted instantly. He raised his left arm to block the claw and twisted, throwing Evans behind him. At the same time, his right fist shot out in a powerful counterstrike, hammering into Evans' chest.
Evans was launched over twenty meters.
Mid-air, he twisted and caught the ground with one hand, his claws gouging five deep scars into the stone.
"Kh...!" Blood trickled from his lips as he knelt on one knee, chest heaving. Pain shot through his ribs, and his left arm hung limp, possibly fractured. It trembled uncontrollably.
"Solid Armament Haki... You've seen your fair share of battles in the New World, haven't you?" Aeridar said admiringly, eyeing the jet-black coating now visible on Evans' arms and chest.
Among the Marines, Vice Admirals were expected to master both Armament and Observation Haki. Rear Admirals were less consistent—some could wield both, others only one, and a few had no Haki at all.
But those Rear Admirals who had mastered both Haki types usually had one thing in common: they'd all survived the hellscape of the New World.
After all, that's where monsters like Evans weren't even the rarest thing you'd find. Even Logia-type users weren't that uncommon there.
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