A cannonball crashed down, exploding against the left side of the ship. The shockwave sent the Oro Jackson tilting to one side as seawater sprayed into the sky and came pouring down onto the deck.
"This is such a headache..."
Roger wiped the seawater from his face. Behind him, his scarlet captain's coat flared wildly in the gusts from the blast.
Despite what he said, a relaxed smile played on his face.
"Rayleigh, what do you say we just settle this with Garp right here?"
His eyes flicked around, then turned to Rayleigh. He flashed a grin, revealing neat, white teeth.
"The Marines ditched their supplies—we're not going to shake them off."
Rayleigh, his hair still a light golden blond and exuding a charming presence, twitched his lips helplessly.
"Garp's still got a long way to go before he catches up to us."
"You just want to fight, don't you?"
Caught red-handed, Roger scratched his head and laughed.
"What else can we do? That bastard Garp's been chasing us for three days and nights—we haven't gotten a wink of sleep!"
He gestured toward the worn-out Shanks and Buggy. Both kids held tiny daggers, watching the distant Marine warship with wide, tired eyes. The bags under their eyes looked like they'd been punched in the face.
"If this keeps up, we old folks will be fine, but those two are hitting their limit."
Rayleigh frowned at Roger's words and took a moment to think.
It was true—for someone like him, fighting for ten days and nights wouldn't be a problem. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on Nove1Fire.net
But Shanks and Buggy were still young. Staying awake and alert for three days was already pushing them to the brink.
"I'm fine!! Captain Roger!! I can still hang in there! Not a problem at all!!"
Suddenly, Shanks stomped forward with determination. He bit his tongue to jolt himself awake, fighting the crushing wave of exhaustion.
He turned to the barely-standing Buggy beside him.
Buggy forced open his heavy eyelids, grumbled, and rolled his eyes.
Like I can say no after that.
Suddenly, a high-pitched hum rang out overhead. From the smoke-filled sky, more black cannonballs rained down—dense and endless, like a storm covering the sky, bearing down on the Oro Jackson.
"Roger!! You won't escape!!"
Garp's roar echoed from the distant warship.
"You're so damn loud, Garp!!"
Roger snapped back, clearly irritated.
At his side, Rayleigh gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist and leapt into the air with agile grace.
In an instant, he was airborne.
His blade flashed out—a dazzling burst of steel like a glittering galaxy. The sword's brilliant arc unleashed a roaring whirlwind of slashing force, weaving into a spiraling tornado of sword energy that surged skyward.
The blade storm engulfed the descending barrage of cannonfire.
Countless sharp cuts danced across the shell casings—then, all at once, over a hundred shells exploded midair!
Massive fireballs lit up the gloomy sky. The orange-red explosions painted the heavens crimson, like a grand fireworks show.
Just as Garp was deeply familiar with the Roger Pirates, the crew had long mastered ways to handle the Marines' large-scale bombardments.
As long as the ship's hull was intact, they could always find a path to escape—even from a full-on naval encirclement.
Rayleigh landed steadily, but just as he spoke, his expression shifted.
A faint pop came from the mast of the Oro Jackson. The forward-leaning sail suddenly collapsed backward.
The golden, curly-mustached skull emblem twisted out of shape.
Rayleigh's face darkened.
A sudden, fierce wind swept through.
The sea roared as massive waves surged and howled.
Caught in the gust, the Oro Jackson's speed plummeted.
"The wind's changed!?"
"Spencer! What's causing this!?"
All eyes turned to the navigator, Spencer. Clinging tightly to the sail rope, his high ponytail whipped in the wind. His usually composed face was tense with worry.
"This wind isn't natural! It has nothing to do with weather patterns!!"
At his words, everyone's pupils narrowed.
If the wind wasn't caused by climate changes... then it could only be man-made.
Rayleigh seemed to realize something. He let out a sigh and spoke in a low voice,
"Everyone, prepare for battle."
The crew froze for a beat before springing into action.
No one wasted words—they grabbed their weapons and moved into position, eyes sharp with rising battle spirit.
Rayleigh looked at Roger and gave a weary smile.
"You really did it this time... there's no running now."
Roger blinked in surprise, then activated his Observation Haki. His eyes quickly lit up with excitement.
Rayleigh narrowed his gaze and turned toward the sea beyond the bow.
Waves whipped into towering peaks, churning like sea dragons.
Amid the raging waters, a colossal Marine warship surged forward at full speed, cutting through the waves with overwhelming force.
The bold, black kanji for "Justice" blazed on the ship's massive white sail, glaring and unyielding.
"Garp's reinforcements... have arrived,"
As he spoke, two tall figures slowly emerged on the warship's prow.
Their pristine white cloaks flared behind them in the wind. Rayleigh could feel their fierce, heavy presence through his Observation Haki—they stood there, silently staring down the Oro Jackson with sharp, defiant eyes.
"That kid... looks like Garp's son?"
Rayleigh furrowed his brows, his grip on the sword tightening.
Through narrowed eyes, Rayleigh watched as a young man with long black hair—Dragon—grinned at them across the distance.
He stepped forward and raised a flat palm.
A dark green wind orb rapidly gathered in his hand, clearly visible even from afar.
He hurled it with force!
The wind orb flew through the air, swelling rapidly mid-flight.
It stretched, twisted, expanded, and spun—morphing as it traveled.
In just seconds, it transformed into a massive sea tornado, spiraling skyward from sea to sky!
"Hurricane: Grand Funeral!"
p@treon com / PinkSnake