Chapter 525: The Continuation of the War (3)
In an overlooked corner of the battlefield, an inconspicuous figure hid among the ranks of the Whitebeard Pirates. With a scruffy chin, several missing teeth, and a pair of claws on his hands, he watched the nearby Marines.
"Will justice prevail?" he muttered to himself, a cold glint in his eyes. "No. Whoever wins is justice."
This was Marshall D. Teach, the future captain of the Blackbeard Pirates. He paid no mind to the sounds of slaughter raging around him.
"Teach, are you alright?" a voice suddenly called from behind.
Teach's expression instantly shifted back to one of simple-minded honesty as he turned to face the newcomer. "Oh, it's you, Thatch! I'm fine, just a little banged up!"
He revealed a fresh blade wound on his arm, a cut he had intentionally allowed himself to receive in the previous skirmish.
Thatch, holding his two signature kitchen knives, saw the injury and his face immediately darkened with worry. "Teach, you're hurt! Who did this? I'll kill them!" he exclaimed, his gaze sweeping the surroundings with murderous intent.
"It's nothing, Thatch. He's already dead. I was just a bit careless," Teach lied smoothly, seeing the genuine concern on his crewmate's face.
"That's a relief. You should head back to the Moby Dick and get that treated. Don't worry, you can leave things here to me!" Thatch urged, looking at the blood trickling down Teach's arm.
"No way! How can I fall back when everyone else is fighting? This is just a scratch, nothing to worry about. Let's go support the others!"
With that, Teach charged towards another part of the battlefield.
Watching the injured Teach fight on without a shred of fear, Thatch was deeply moved.
"If Teach isn't afraid to die, how can I, the 4th Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, back down? Brothers, I'm with you! Let's drive these Marines back!" Thatch roared, raising his cleavers high for the nearby crewmen to see.
His shout instantly ignited the morale of the surrounding Whitebeard Pirates. Their faltering lines began to stabilize, and they started to push back, piece by piece.
But it did little to change the overall tide of the battle. The Whitebeard Pirates, with over forty thousand men, were facing ten thousand elite Marines and another forty thousand soldiers from the Kingdom Allied Army. Even with the allied kingdom forces mostly slacking off, the ten thousand Marine elites were routing them.
From the moment the war began, the Whitebeard Pirates had faced the full, overwhelming might of the Marines—in cannons, in guns, and in top-tier fighters. The Marines crushed them in every aspect. If it weren't for the fact that the Marines had fewer numbers and thus only a slight advantage, the Whitebeard Pirates would have been wiped out in a single wave.
If the forces were equal in number, the Whitebeard Pirates would be no match for the Marine elites. Any single elite Marine could easily take on two of Whitebeard's crew. With their superior weaponry, they could achieve a three-to-one kill ratio. The sheer terror of their strength was not something the rookies of the Whitebeard crew, sheltered under the protection of Edward Newgate, could withstand.
Having been stationed in the latter half of the New World for so long, the Whitebeard Pirates rarely engaged in large-scale battles. With the Rockefeller Pirates and the Big Mom Pirates acting as a buffer in front of them, their crew had remained too green. This, combined with Edward Newgate's typically lax discipline, meant that the strength of most of his crew was remarkably low.
Furthermore, their weaponry was obsolete. Although they had purchased some armaments from Rockefeller's enterprise, the proud pirates disdained using their rival's weapons. As a result, their onboard arsenal was severely outdated. It was fine for minor skirmishes, but against a professional force like the Marines, they crumbled on contact.
The Whitebeard Pirates were only still in the fight because the Kingdom Allied Army was dragging the Marine elites down.
Aokiji's pre-war premonition had come true. Once on the battlefield, the allied kingdom forces were completely useless. Not only did they ignore commands, but they also ran around chaotically, disrupting the morale of the elite Marines. Many Marines had even died trying to protect them, leading to countless meaningless casualties. This was the only reason the Whitebeard Pirates had managed to hold on for so long.
Compared to the teamwork and suppressive firepower of the Big Mom Pirates, or the formidable strength of the Rockefeller Pirates, the Whitebeard Pirates were undeniably weaker by more than a single measure. The heavy casualties had brought them to the brink of collapse, held together only by the presence of one man: Edward Newgate.
As long as Whitebeard himself did not fall, the Whitebeard Pirates would continue to fight, no matter how catastrophic their losses.
In stark contrast, the Big Mom Pirates were having a much easier time.
Although Katakuri was tied up fighting Kizaru within the awakened space of his Mochi-Mochi Fruit and couldn't command his many siblings, the years of constant warfare had not been for naught. They had fought the Rockefeller Pirates, pirates from the new great age, the Flying Pirates, and the Marines. It could be said that the Big Mom Pirates were even more battle-hardened than Rockefeller's crew.
Since officially leaving the Totto Land sea in 1494, the Big Mom Pirates had lived in a state of perpetual war. Nearly a decade of fighting had taught them to face battle with methodical order. They showed none of the Whitebeard crew's panic, nor the reckless brute force of the Rockefeller Pirates. Instead, they skillfully used advantageous terrain and timing, relying on overwhelming firepower to suppress the Marine's advance.
The war had raged late into the night. From every direction, the cannons of the Big Mom Pirates still spat fire like serpents' tongues, repelling wave after wave of Marine charges. Since the battle began, the Marines had not once broken through their blockade of fire. Each assault left behind nothing but a field of elite Marine corpses.
After the initial ferocious charge resulted in heavy losses, the acting commander, Vice Admiral Onigumo, was forced to change tactics. The enemy's defensive arrangement was flawless, a textbook-perfect deployment. Onigumo believed that not even the Marines could set up such a perfect formation. The realization was frustrating, but the fierce slaughter of the battlefield left him no time for frustration.
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