The sound of cannons echoed across the landscape as we walked toward Arlong Park, their thunderous roar reverberating through my chest like the heartbeat of war itself.
'So it begins.'
The four Straw Hats beside me moved with varying degrees of tension—Zoro's hand resting casually on his swords despite the gravity of the situation, Sanji taking another puff of his cigarette with steady fingers, Luffy bouncing on his feet with barely contained energy, and Usopp clutching his slingshot with white knuckles.
I adjusted the brim of my wizard hat to shade my eyes from the distant glow that was beginning to paint the horizon.
The cannons fired again, and this time I could see exactly where the shots landed.
SPLASH!
The cannonballs hit the water directly in front of Arlong Park, but they didn't simply sink beneath the surface. Instead, something extraordinary happened.
KABOOOMWHOOOOO!!!!
The sea itself erupted into flames.
The special incendiary ammunition did exactly what it was designed to do, transforming the water into a blazing barrier that stretched across the entire front of the park, covering every inch of the water surface.
WHOOOM! CRACKLE! HISS!
The flames danced and writhed across the surface like liquid fire, casting an orange glow that made the whole scene look like something out of a fever dream.
The heat was intense enough that I could feel it warming my face even from this distance, and the light was so bright it cast everything in stark relief, like the world's most dramatic stage lighting.
'Well, that's certainly theatrical,' I mused, watching the mesmerizing display.
'Though I suppose when you're trying to corner a bunch of fishmen, you might as well make it as visually impressive as possible. Nothing says "you're trapped" quite like turning their beloved ocean into hell itself.'
"What the…?" Roronoa's voice cut through the crackling of flames. "How is the water on fire?"
Usopp, surprisingly, had an answer ready.
"That's a special kind of cannon ammunition from the West Blue," he explained, his voice carrying a note of professional appreciation that I hadn't expected.
"It's designed specifically to create fire barriers on water surfaces. The chemical composition includes a special compound that—"
"In simpler terms?" Sanji interrupted, though he looked genuinely interested.
"It makes fire that floats on water and burns hot enough to cook you if you try to swim through it," Usopp simplified.
"It's rarely used because it's incredibly difficult to manufacture, let alone acquire. Most of these rounds are hoarded by the Marines in their bases for emergency situations when they're surrounded or under siege by pirates."
'Impressive,' I thought, genuinely surprised by the depth of Usopp's knowledge.
'This isn't the first time today he's shown this side of himself. I guess when you're capable of crafting your own weapons and have a natural talent for marksmanship, you'd naturally develop an interest in military hardware. Still, most people wouldn't know the technical specifications of specialized ammunition off the top of their heads.'
Usopp turned to me, curiosity evident in his eyes. "Where did you even get ammunition like this, Hikigaya? I'm guessing this is specifically to prevent the fishmen from retreating to the water when things get tough for them?"
I allowed myself a small, sardonic smile. "The most troublesome aspect of fighting fishmen isn't their physical strength or their weapons," I replied, watching the flames continue to rage across the water's surface.
"It's their aquatic advantages. In water, they can breathe and swim, they're ten times stronger than they are on land. They can retreat underwater where we can't effectively pursue them, and they can call for reinforcements from various sea creatures—remember that sea cow monster we encountered earlier? —and they can use the ocean itself as both shield and weapon."
I gestured toward the blazing barrier. "By turning the area in front of the park into an inferno, we're effectively sealing off their primary advantage while simultaneously cutting off their most obvious escape route. It's basic tactical thinking: eliminate your enemy's strengths while maximizing your own."
'Though let's be honest,' I thought, 'half of this plan is just me throwing tactical-level gears at the problem.'
'And while I could regenerate these resources with The Box, I am still running low on my immediate resources, especially with money, as I am acting very generous lately. But for now, let's focus on the battle'
"This is only the second round," I continued aloud, and as if summoned by my words, the cannons sounded again.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
This time, the cannonballs didn't arc toward the water. Instead, they flew directly toward Arlong Park itself, their whistling passage through the air creating an ominous countdown to destruction.
CRASH!
SMASH!
BOOM!
The projectiles struck several buildings within the park, demolishing walls and rooftops with devastating precision. But that wasn't the end of it. Not even a few seconds after impact, the real show began.
KABOOOOOOOOMM!!!
KABOOOOOOOOMM!!!!!
Massive explosions erupted from within the park, pillars of fire shooting skyward with enough force and height to rival the eight-story tower that dominated the center of the complex.
The secondary blasts were so powerful they made the ground beneath our feet tremble, and the heat wave that followed was like opening an oven door.
"Should I correctly assume that this was supposed to happen?" Sanji asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"Positive," I confirmed, unable to keep a note of satisfaction out of my voice.
"The second advantage fishmen have in their own territory is access to their full arsenal—all the weapons and ammunition they've stockpiled in their base over the years. Arlong's crew has been operating out of this location for almost a decade, which means they've had plenty of time to accumulate a significant cache of military hardware."
'The beautiful thing about targeting weapon storage,' I reflected, 'is that it's a cascading effect.'
'You're not just destroying the weapons themselves—you're creating a chain reaction that eliminates multiple threats simultaneously. Plus, there's something deeply satisfying about watching your enemies' own arsenal turn against them.'
"Now that the third round has targeted their weapon storage," I continued, "whatever they can use from this point forward is limited to whatever they happened to have in hand when the attack began."
"In tactical terms, we have cut their escape route, reinforcement route, and supply routes, effectively reducing their combat effectiveness by at least sixty percent before the real fighting even starts."
I could see the Strawhats looking at me with their eyes widened a bit. Luffy bonded his fist together and said, "There are a lot of things I don't understand, but you are basically saying you made the fishmen unable to escape or call for help, right?"
"Exactly, they now can't run to water, and no longer can have more weapons to shoot at us, and the moment we 'Pepper' them a bit, you can go wild, slice and dice them as much as you want."
"I kinda like what I am hearing," Roronoa said, having a surprisingly evil smile on his face.
"Couldn't agree more," Sanji added as he finished his cigarette, properly liking the Pepper part.
As we approached the designated position outside the park, I could see that the villagers had followed their instructions to the letter.
They were positioned behind trees and makeshift cover, their rifles at the ready, all aimed toward the burning complex.
The sight was both impressive and sobering—ordinary people, fishermen and farmers and shopkeepers, preparing to fight trained pirates because they'd finally reached the point where they had nothing left to lose.
'This is what desperation looks like when it finally transforms into determination,' I thought, watching an elderly man with a thin beard check his rifle's ammunition with steady hands despite the fear in his eyes.
'These people have been terrorized for so long that the prospect of death in battle seems preferable to continued subjugation. It's almost noble, in a tragic sort of way.'
"Dead-Eye-aniki! Anikies!!" Johnny and Yosaku materialized beside us the moment we arrived, both looking wound tight with anticipation.
"Every villager is in position, just like you ordered," Johnny reported, his voice carrying the kind of crisp efficiency that suggested he'd done this sort of thing before.
"Sniper," I said, turning to the long-nosed sharpshooter, "find yourself a position in one of the taller trees."
"You'll have the best vantage point for picking off any fishmen who try to use heavy weapons against the villagers. Those Mini Bazooka rounds I gave you should be more than sufficient to neutralize any significant threats."
'The key to this kind of asymmetrical warfare,' I mused as Usopp nodded and began scanning the nearby trees for the optimal perch, 'Is controlling the battlefield through superior positioning and intelligence.'
The cannons will act as not only our superior firepower but also a bait for the enemy, the villagers provide suppressing fire and numerical advantage for the ambush, Usopp eliminates high-value targets from range, and the close combat specialists handle whatever breaks through the perimeter.
It's textbook tactical doctrine, assuming everyone actually follows the plan instead of doing something heroically stupid.
The fishmen began emerging from the park almost immediately, carrying an assortment of guns and cutlasses as they rushed toward the hill where the cannons continued their relentless bombardment.
"GET READY!!" I warned the villagers as I saw the panicking fishmen.
They moved with the kind of panicked urgency that suggested the psychological impact of the artillery barrage was working exactly as intended.
'Nothing quite like having your home base turned into a furnace to destroy morale,' I observed with dark satisfaction. 'They're not thinking strategically anymore—they're just reacting to immediate threats. That makes them predictable, and predictable enemies are dead enemies.'
"OPEN FIRE!!" I commanded, and the villagers responded instantly.
BANG!
BANG!
CRACK!
BANG!
POP!
The sound of dozens of rifles firing simultaneously was like thunder, and the effect on the emerging fishmen was immediate and devastating.
"WHAT THE HELL—?!" one of the fishmen shouted, his voice cracking with shock as he dove behind the gate.
"WHERE DID ALL THESE HUMANS COME FROM?!" another screamed, clutching a bleeding shoulder as he scrambled for cover.
"THE VILLAGERS! THE DAMN VILLAGERS ARE FIGHTING BACK!" The voice carried a note of genuine disbelief, as if the idea of their victims actually resisting was completely foreign to them.
Several of them dropped instantly, blood blooming across their chests and shoulders as the carefully aimed shots found their marks. The others scrambled for cover, their planned assault on the cannon position completely disrupted.
"Got one!" someone shouted from behind a nearby tree.
"Take that, you bastards!" another voice called out, filled with a savage satisfaction I hadn't expected from these simple fishermen and farmers.
"For my son!" The voice of the thin-bearded older man cracked with emotion as he worked the bolt on his rifle.
"Not so tough now, you sonuvabitches!!" a younger villager exclaimed with something approaching wonder, as if he'd never quite believed the fishmen were mortal until this moment.
More shots rang out from the villagers' positions, accompanied by increasingly confident shouts.
'The beauty of an ambush,' I reflected, watching the chaos unfold and our side gaining morale, 'is that it doesn't matter how strong your enemies are individually if you can control when and where the engagement takes place. Right now, they're fighting on our terms, in our kill zone, with their strategic advantages neutralized. It's almost unfair, really.'
"THEY SHOULD BE COWERING IN THEIR HOUSES!" one fishman yelled to his companions, his voice rising with panic. "THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"
"SHUT UP AND SHOOT BACK, YOU IDIOTS!" another voice commanded, though it carried the desperate edge of someone trying to maintain control of a rapidly deteriorating situation.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Looks like Delgado is moving quite efficiently with his group as the cannons fired their fourth round, and more sections of Arlong Park erupted in flames.
The fishmen caught in the open didn't know whether to advance toward the cannons, retreat back to their burning base, or find cover from the withering rifle fire. In their confusion, many simply froze, making themselves perfect targets.
But the fishmen weren't complete amateurs. Some of them, realizing the futility of a frontal assault, began retreating behind the park's walls while pulling out heavier weapons—bazookas and small cannons that could potentially turn the tide of the engagement.
'There it is,' I thought with grudging respect. 'Arlong didn't build his little empire by being completely incompetent. These are the ones who survived long enough to become his lieutenants, which means they're smart enough to adapt under pressure.'
This is exactly why we didn't rush to their base. The moment we do, these weapons will rain hell on us with no hesitation.
The fishmen with the heavy weapons positioned themselves along the park's walls, using the fortifications for cover while they prepared to rain the explosive death down on the villagers below.
It was actually a sound tactical decision—trade mobility for firepower and use elevation to maximize the effectiveness of their remaining arsenal.
Unfortunately for them, I had planned for exactly this scenario.
THUNK!
Usopp's slingshot sang from his perch in the treetops, and one of the Mini Bazooka rounds I'd provided him struck a fishman who was loading a hand cannon. The explosion that followed was spectacular.
KABOOM!
The fishman and his weapon disappeared in a ball of fire and smoke, and the concussive force knocked two of his companions off the wall entirely.
"What the hell was that?!" gasped someone from the villager line, his rifle wavering as he stared up at the explosion.
"Did you see that shot?!" another villager exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "From that distance? In this wind?"
"Is that kid even human?" whispered a third voice, barely audible over the crackling flames.
Usopp didn't waste any time celebrating his success—he was already loading another round.
THUNK! KABOOM!
Another fishman with a cannon fell victim to the deadly sniper fire, his weapon exploding in a shower of metal fragments that made his surviving comrades think twice about exposing themselves.
THUNK! KABOOM!
THUNK! KABOOM!
'It's like watching someone play whack-a-mole,' I observed with a neutral look as Usopp systematically eliminated every fishman who tried to bring heavy weapons to bear on our position.
'Though significantly more violent and with higher stakes. Still, there's something almost comical about the predictability of it all—fishman pops up with a big gun, Usopp makes him explode, rinse and repeat.'
THUNK! KABOOM!
"They can't even stick their heads up!"
"Look at them cowering behind those walls like the cowards they are!"
"Eight years!" shouted one voice above the others, raw with emotion. "Eight years we've lived in fear, and now look at them run!"
"My daughter can finally sleep at night after this!" called out another, his voice breaking with relief and rage combined.
THUNK! KABOOM!
THUNK! KABOOM!
THUNK! KABOOM!
Each explosion from Usopp's position was met with cheers and exclamations from the villagers below.
"Keep it up, sniper!"
"Show them what happens when they mess with Cocoyasi!"
"Make them regret the day they ever set foot on our island!"
THUNK! KABOOM!
The pattern continued for several minutes, with fewer and fewer fishmen daring to expose themselves long enough to use their remaining heavy weapons.
The psychological effect was probably as important as the tactical one—nothing destroys morale quite like watching your comrades get picked off one by one by an invisible sniper.
The cannons fired their fifth round, and I could see that the continued bombardment was beginning to take a serious toll on the park's infrastructure.
Several buildings had collapsed entirely, and fires were spreading throughout the complex.
'It was time for the next phase of the operation.'
"Sniper!" I called up to Usopp. "I need you to take down a wide section of the park's wall, including the main gate. Use your special ammunition."
There was a pause before Usopp's voice drifted down from the treetops. "Are you sure about that? I'm worried about having enough ammo for later in the fight."
"Do it quickly," I replied with more confidence than I felt. "You should have enough for the entire battle and then some."
'I hope I'm right about that,' I added silently. 'Because if we run out of ammunition halfway through this fight, we're going to have some very unpleasant conversations with some very angry fishmen.'
Usopp's response was immediate and devastating.
THUNK!
The Mini Bazooka round flew from his slingshot with deadly precision, striking the wall near the park's main gate.
KABOOM!
A section of the wall simply ceased to exist, leaving behind a gap roughly six feet wide and about half a person's height.
The fishmen who had been using the wall for cover suddenly found themselves completely exposed to the rifle fire of the villagers.
"The wall! They destroyed our wall!"
"We're exposed! Fall back! Fall back!"
"How did humans get this kind of firepower?!"
"This can't be happening!" a fishman with distinctive razor teeth shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief.
Panic set in immediately as they scrambled back toward whatever cover they could find within the burning park.
'Perfect,' I thought with satisfaction, watching the enemy forces retreat in disarray.
'Now they can't turtle up behind their fortifications, and they can't effectively use the water for retreat. They're caught between the fire barrier, the artillery bombardment, and our ground forces.'
Classic hammer and anvil tactics.
The fishmen who had been mounting an organized defense were now running around like headless chickens, their command structure apparently broken by the combination of constant explosions and the systematic elimination of their heavy weapons specialists.
'This is the moment,' I realized, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest that always preceded close combat.
'They're disorganized, demoralized, and trapped. If we're going to press our advantage, it has to be now, before they have time to regroup and adapt to the new situation.'
"Alright, get ready! We are going to infiltrate the park now!" I said to the Strawhats trio, who were itching to move for a while now.
"Finally!"
"About time."
"I was starting to think we would never get a chance."
The Strawhats trio express how much they were holding themselves back from charging to the base directly.
"Villagers!" I called out, my voice carrying clearly over the sounds of battle. "Advance while firing! Maintain suppressing fire and cover the assault team!"
I turned to Johnny and Yosaku. "You're with us for the close combat push. The Sniper will provide cover fire from his position."
'I've done everything I can to stack the odds in our favor,' I reflected as the villagers began to move out of their cover from the trees, their rifles crackling with steady fire.
'Superior positioning, overwhelming firepower, surprising ambush, psychological warfare, tactical surprise—all the textbook elements of a successful assault. Of course, no plan survives contact with the enemy, and I have a feeling that these fishmen still have a few surprises waiting for us.'
The fishmen trapped within the park were clearly trying to regroup, but the constant pressure from multiple directions was making it difficult for them to mount any kind of coordinated response.
'Classic command breakdown,' I observed with professional interest. 'When your leadership structure gets disrupted by overwhelming force, individual units tend to revert to their basic survival instincts rather than following any kind of strategic doctrine.'
It's actually a textbook example of how superior tactics can defeat superior individual strength.
"Straw-hat, Roronoa, and Cook," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline beginning to course through my system. "Once we breach the perimeter, stay close and watch each other's backs. The moment we engage in close combat, the cannons and covering fire will have to stop to avoid friendly fire incidents."
"Let's go!" I commanded, and just as we were advancing toward the park, something happened that I definitely hadn't planned for.
"O-OI! GU-GUYS! RUN AWAAAY!!" I heard Usopp shout something from his position as a shadow fell across us.
When I looked up to see what it was, I almost gasped.
'Oh,' I thought with the kind of detached calm that sometimes accompanies moments of dread.
'That's... not good.'
—Arlong's Third Person POV—
"ARLONG-SAN!!"
"ARLONG-SAN!!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!"
The world spun in jagged fragments of pain and concrete dust as Arlong hauled himself upright, blood streaming from his shattered teeth.
His jaw throbbed where the cannonball had connected—not the clean catch he'd executed a thousand times before, but an explosion that had torn through his trademark serrated teeth like a meat grinder through bone.
'Damn these pathetic humans and their tricks.'
He spat crimson onto the cracked pavement of Arlong Park, fragments of his own teeth glinting in the mixture. The metallic taste flooded his mouth, sharp and bitter.
His head pounded with each heartbeat, vision swimming as he forced his massive frame to stand. Eight years of dominance over the archipelago, and now some backwater villagers had managed to bloody his face.
"Where—" His voice came out as a rasp, vocal cords still rattled and burned from the impact. He cleared his throat violently, hawking up more blood. "WHERE ARE THOSE CANNONS FIRING FROM?!"
One of his subordinates scrambled closer through the debris field that had once been a building.
"From the hill, Arlong-san! They've positioned themselves on the ridge overlooking the park!"
Arlong's eyes blazed as he surveyed the destruction around him. Chunks of wood and concrete lay scattered like broken teeth across what had been his pristine domain.
The ornate fishman statue at the park's center had taken a direct hit, its carved face obliterated by shrapnel. Smoke billowed from three separate fires, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning wood and metal.
"THOSE BASTARDS!" The curse tore from his throat like a battle cry, his teeth regenerating as he spoke.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not when everything had been proceeding according to plan.
The Pirate Hunter's arrival should have been a gift—a chance to make an example, to remind everyone in the crew why they feared the name Arlong.
Instead, he was standing in the ruins of his own fortress, tasting his own blood. Making him look bad in front of the subordinates, who are starting to get unsatisfied.
'Especially Gyaro.'
Arlong's attention was fixed on the shark fishman crouched behind an overturned concrete planter. Gyaro's muscular frame coiled with tension, his gill slits fluttering with controlled breathing as he surveyed the chaos. But his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—kept darting toward Arlong with barely concealed assessment.
For months now, Gyaro had been pushing himself harder in training. Staying later. Lifting heavier weights. Swinging his sword. Practicing his techniques with an intensity that spoke of preparation rather than simple self-improvement.
And those conversations he'd been having with the others, whispered discussions that died the moment Arlong entered earshot.
'Planning something, aren't you, you slimy piece of—'
Another explosion rocked the park, this one closer. A section of the eastern wall erupted in a shower of stone and mortar, leaving a gaping hole through which rifle barrels glinted in the late afternoon sunlight.
The villagers had positioned themselves well, using the natural elevation of the surrounding hills to rain death down into the park.
"How did they get weapons like this?" Chew's voice cracked with disbelief. "Incendiary loads, advanced rifles, explosive rounds, coordinated artillery placement—this isn't some angry mob with pitchforks and torches!"
Arlong's mind raced through the possibilities.
The Marine bases in this region were understaffed, corrupt, and generally incompetent. They couldn't organize something like this without weeks of planning and resources they simply didn't possess, and if they did, his contacts would have informed him beforehand.
The villagers themselves were farmers and fishermen, not military tacticians.
That left the Pirate Hunter.
'Roronoa Zoro.'
The name sat in his mouth like poison. Three-sword style, a reputation built on the corpses of pirates foolish enough to underestimate him.
But even Zoro couldn't have acquired and deployed this level of firepower in the few hours since his arrival at Cocayoshi Village.
'Unless he, too, was getting help from another party.'
'But Who? Who could do something like that?'
The crack of rifle fire echoed across the park as more bullets whined overhead. One of his men caught a round in the shoulder and went down screaming. Blood sprayed across the white concrete as he writhed in agony.
"Sir!" Kuroobi's shout cut through the gunfire. "They've destroyed the ammo storage—"
"I can see that!" Arlong snarled.
But he could see more than structural damage. He could see the way his crew flinched at every explosion, the way they looked to him for answers he didn't have.
Eight years of absolute dominance, of being the apex predator in these islands, and now they were pinned down like rats in a maze.
'This is what happens when you show weakness. When you let sentiment cloud your judgment.'
The girl—Nami—had been a mistake.
When she'd tried to buy back Cocoyashi Village with that pathetic pile of berries, when he'd seen the hope die in her eyes as he'd revealed the truth about her impossible task, he'd felt something he rarely experienced: satisfaction that went beyond simple dominance. It had been personal. Intimate.
The kind of cruelty that fed the soul rather than just the ego.
He'd known the villagers would react violently to her despair. Hell, he'd been counting on it.
Another excuse to demonstrate his superiority, to grind these pathetic humans into the dirt where they belonged. But he'd expected clubs and kitchen knives, maybe some hunting rifles if he was unlucky.
Not this. Not a coordinated military assault with weapons that belonged on a Marine battleship.
"Arlong-san!" Another voice, high and panicked. "They've got some kind of long-range cannon! It's punching through our cover like paper!"
As if summoned by the warning, another section of the park's defensive wall simply vanished in a thunderclap of sound and fury.
The explosion left his ears ringing, his vision white with dust and debris. When it cleared, he could see straight through to the forest beyond, where muzzle flashes sparked like deadly fireflies among the trees.
No more cover. No more protection.
His men were fully exposed now, caught in a killing ground with nowhere to run.
The rifles opened up in earnest, filling the air with the whistle and crack of high-velocity rounds. Concrete exploded in puffs of dust where bullets struck. Metal rang as they ricocheted off the park's decorative fixtures.
And his crew was dying.
Not falling back in good order. Not retreating to fight another day. Dying. Cut down by humans. Humans. The inferior race that existed solely to serve their betters.
The rage that had been building in his chest since the first cannonball hit him now erupted like a volcano.
His vision tinged red at the edges as every muscle in his body coiled tight. The pain from his broken teeth became fuel, the humiliation of being caught off-guard transformed into pure, crystallized hatred.
These pathetic land-dwellers had forgotten their place. Had forgotten what happened to those who challenged a fishman—who challenged him—in his own domain.
'Time to remind them.'
He was drawing breath to bellow orders, to rally his men for a counterattack that would paint the hillsides red, when movement caught his eye.
Gyaro was standing.
His dark hands found purchase on what remained of a two-story building that had partially collapsed during the initial barrage.
Muscles that had grown suspiciously large over recent months bulged beneath shark-like skin, as Gyaro lifted—actually lifted—the entire structure. Concrete groaned and rebar screamed as tons of material rose above his head like some mythological titan's weapon.
Around them, the remaining crew fell silent despite the ongoing gunfire. Even the enemy marksmen seemed to pause, perhaps unable to process what they were witnessing.
A fishman's strength was legendary among those who knew the truth about their kind, but this was impressive even by their standards.
'Show off.' The thought carried grudging respect alongside suspicion. 'But useful.'
Even as Gyaro lifted the building fragment, Arlong's own hands were already moving, fingers digging through surface material to find the reinforced foundation below.
'Two can play at this game.'
His grip tightened on chunks of aggregate and steel as Gyaro hurled his makeshift projectile toward the tree line.
The display served dual purposes—tactical advantage against their attackers, and a clear demonstration of power directed at his captain.
The message was unmistakable: I am strong enough to challenge you.
"We'll see about that."
Arlong's response was immediate, his own massive chunk of concrete and steel rising in his grasp.
He hurled the massive chunk of foundation with all his strength.
"LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE THIS, YOU PATHETIC HUMANS!!!"
—Hachiman's POV—
I looked up and felt my blood run cold.
A two-story building—an entire two-story building—was flying through the air toward us from somewhere within Arlong Park.
The building tumbled end over end as it arced through the air, pieces of debris breaking off and raining down around us.
It was moving fast enough that the wind of its passage created a low, ominous howling sound, and it was large enough to crush our entire line if it landed in the wrong place.
"GET BACK!!!" I shouted as I sent Hamon to my sword, though I suspected everyone could see the massive projectile for themselves.
'So much for everything going according to plan!'
…
A/N: Alright, That's it for now.
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