Chapter 33: The Demon Hound—Roel
"Hehehe… that pirate actually has a decent brain—inciting a rebellion, setting up an ambush. Pretty underhanded, no matter how you look at it."
A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. From afar, hidden in the shadows, Roel watched the clumsy attempts at concealment by the pirates and couldn't help but sneer.
Glass Island was a typical island—only the outermost ring remained an undeveloped forest.
Beyond that lay sandy beaches and a cleared-out buffer zone. Further in was the city, split cleanly in two.
At the center stood the inner city, flanked on one side by the outer city and on the other by a chaotic blend known as the "Junction of the Unaccounted."
The pirate crew numbered nearly two hundred—far too many to hide completely.
But their captain was clever. He took a small squad of trusted men and hid in the most secluded spot, leaving the rest as expendable bait—an outer layer of cover.
Unfortunately for him… he ran into Roel.
Taking out a Den Den Mushi (transponder snail), Roel calmly observed the discarded bait, waiting for the call to connect.
"Buru buru… buru buru… buru!"
"This is Roel, reporting to Rear Admiral Driss. Requesting a saturation bombardment. Priority: eliminate the pirates before pacifying the rebellion."
"Location."
"West shore. In front of three pirate ships. Fan-shaped forest area from ten o'clock to two o'clock. Hit it hard."
"Understood. The fleet will open fire directly. I'll lead the ground team for the rebellion."
Click.
The tiny Den Den Mushi fell silent as the line disconnected. Roel continued to watch, unblinking.
Soon after—
Three Navy warships arrived. The pirates guarding their ships tried to return fire from the flanks, but the Navy's superior range and firepower made it a one-sided slaughter. Within moments, the pirate vessels were shredded and ran aground.
Survivors scrambled toward the coast, feigning an attempt to assist the rebels inland.
Everything seemed to go according to the pirate captain's plan. Though the Navy arrived by ship instead of marching in—minor difference. The ambush would just be more lopsided.
As long as—
"Wait! Those cannons—RUN!!"
The pirate captain's instincts screamed at him. He had a basic grasp of Armament Haki, but that didn't mean he could withstand naval artillery!
This wasn't some common cannon—it was a Navy warship's broadside!
Damn it! How did such a perfect plan fall apart!?
Without even checking on his subordinates, he turned and ran—fleeing beyond the cannons' range.
The rest of the pirates weren't so lucky. The full force of three ships' firepower rained down. Naval infantry joined in, their aim poor but their bullets many—enough to mow down scores of pirates.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Shells screamed into the forest. Flames erupted skyward. Only a handful of quick-thinking pirates managed to escape with their lives, crawling into the final trap.
Roel ignored the grunts fleeing in terRoel. His eyes stayed locked on one man: the pirate captain.
A 30-million bounty. "Single-Blade" Sheehan.
A dangerous pirate from the New World, now operating on the Grand Line. He served under Golden Lion Shiki—one of the rare few who could travel between the first and second halves of the Grand Line… and even bring others with him.
Roel knew better than to face him head-on. Sheehan was far stronger. Roel would need to rely on strategy to bring him down.
Luckily, Sheehan wasn't a Devil Fruit user. Otherwise, Roel's first hunt of a pirate with a bounty in the tens of millions might have ended in disaster.
Cradling a large shotgun, Roel moved toward a narrow path leading to the eastern coast—Sheehan's likely escape route. A small fishing port at the island's north end. Plenty of boats to slip away quietly.
Meanwhile—
Sheehan, limping from a leg wound caused by flying shrapnel, fled alone. No crew, no allies. Like an old, wounded wolf. His eyes darted with suspicion.
"Damn it! This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Could we have had a mole? But how would the Navy have gotten word under such tight conditions!?"
He couldn't figure it out. He could only blame his carelessness and curse the Navy's cunning.
Still, so long as he lived, there was hope. Once he recovered, he'd rise again!
"Who's there!?"
Suddenly, Sheehan halted, eyes locked on a nearby thicket.
His instincts screamed at him—one more step, and he would die.
No sound. His shout didn't draw anyone out. Whoever was hiding had the patience of a seasoned hunter, waiting for the prey to make a mistake.
Sheehan drew his blade. A faint shimmer of Armament Haki covered the steel. He advanced cautiously, ready to counter at any moment.
Behind the foliage, Roel held his breath, shotgun at the ready, listening to Sheehan's footsteps.
Closer… closer…
PONG!
Roel lunged out and fired blindly without hesitation.
Sheehan raised his sword to block, but it was no use. Over fifty pellets blasted through his feeble defense, turning him into a human sieve. No matter how tough his body was—it wasn't enough.
PONG!
Another shot. Roel didn't approach. He wasn't naïve—he knew some in this world could shrug off even warship cannon fire.
Just to be sure, he fired a second blast straight into Sheehan's chest, turning his torso to pulp.
If not for the distinctive outfit and sword, no one could've identified the corpse.
…
"Tch… Doesn't act like a Navy man at all."
High in the sky, a lone albatross snapped photos with a camera, recording everything for the sake of his dream.
Morgans, also known as Morgans the Newsbird, carefully slid a dozen fresh photos into his satchel, replaying today's events in his mind.
He'd just planned to return to his base—but then, he stumbled upon the mission in progress.
From the moment Roel split off from the main force to his solo infiltration, Morgans followed. He witnessed Roel carry explosives deep into enemy lines. One misstep and it would've been suicide.
Now, with his fledgling news agency in need of a big story, this was the perfect scoop!
He even had the headlines picked out. And the nickname too!
"The Navy's Will: A Suicide Mission to Quell the Rebellion!"
"Roel: Demon Hound of Retribution: A Rising Star of the Navy!"
This would ride the wave of Navy propaganda and launch his paper to fame.
If only he knew Roel's name… A wiretap snail would've made things perfect!
Morgans—just two years younger than Akainu—smiled to himself.