As Roya stepped out onto the staircase, he just happened to spot McGuy.
The man's skinny legs were sticking straight into the air—he was walking on his hands, licking the deck with remarkable speed and focus.
Trailing behind him was his longtime rival, Squard, holding a sandglass and dutifully keeping time.
Roya chuckled and shook his head.
"Ah, what a waste of effort…"
Then, without further comment, he made his way down toward the lower deck's officers' dining hall.
---
Along the way, every crew member who crossed paths with him immediately froze, dropping what they were doing to stand at attention.
They saluted him with eyes full of admiration—no, worship.
This reverence had even begun to surpass what they showed Whitebeard himself.
---
Inside the private dining hall reserved for commanders and above, Roya casually pointed at a few signature dishes on the menu.
Before long, the table was covered with exquisite food.
But halfway through his meal, his Observation Domain suddenly triggered a passive alert.
A large fleet was rapidly approaching—this image was clearly delivered to Roya's mind by his advanced Haki.
The fleet's sails bore the unmistakable insignia of the Navy.
---
Roya calmly dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and said to the waiter beside him:
"Sound the order. All on-duty personnel—immediately take battle positions."
"All allied fleet members—return to your respective flagships, follow the Moby Dick in loose formation, and prepare for combat."
Without waiting to see the waiter rush out in a panic, Roya got up and headed for the main deck.
---
The orders traveled swiftly across the Moby Dick, and the once-still beast of a ship erupted with ferocious energy.
Pirates scrambled—not chaotically, but with practiced precision—to take their positions.
Roya strode straight toward the command platform and stood at the captain's station.
Marco was already in place, naturally moving to Roya's side, ready to relay any of his commands.
Even though the lookouts hadn't sounded any warning yet, no one on the ship questioned Roya's preemptive orders.
His command carried absolute weight.
---
Marco offered him the telescope, but Roya gently pushed it aside.
There was no need.
His face was calm, confident.
"Only a few vice admirals and twenty-three warships…
and they think they can stop the Whitebeard Pirates?"
"Arrogance will be their downfall."
"Left rudder, 15 degrees. Forward cannons—load and ready to fire!"
Marco immediately sent the command down the brass communication pipes to the forward artillery crew.
---
Moments later, the lookout finally spotted the tip of a mast through his telescope.
Before he could issue a warning, that one mast split into dozens—an entire forest of masts surfacing on the horizon.
He frantically rang the battle bell, using a special rhythm to encode the intel:
"Portside direction—fifteen nautical miles—twenty-three warships!"
Marco quickly deciphered the signal in his head… but couldn't help glancing at Roya again.
"He gave those orders minutes ago… before we even saw the first mast…"
Everyone knew Observation Haki could sense beyond line of sight.
But Roya had made his call while eating lunch.
"A detection range of 20–30 nautical miles?! That's… insane!"
For the first time in a while, Marco was truly grateful he was not part of the Navy fleet.
"They haven't even entered cannon range,
and the enemy already knows their every move…"
"What kind of war is this? There's no winning this."
---
Just then, Roya issued a new command—one that even Marco didn't understand at first.
"Fire the forward cannon."
Marco hesitated for a beat… but relayed the command anyway.
"But Vice-Captain… even with our twelve-nautical-mile range,
they're still too far. Their ships can't close three miles that fast…"
Roya smiled confidently.
"Relax. They'll rush forward and catch this shell with their flagship."
Marco's breath caught.
"Of course… he can see the future."
"This isn't just long-range sensing—
Roya is predicting what will happen… with terrifying accuracy."
"That word he used—'catch'—how poetic…"
In naval battles, cannon barrages usually targeted areas, not specific ships.
Only someone with Roya's Observation Domain could ensure every shot was a direct hit.
Marco shivered with excitement—and a bit of regret.
"If only my own Haki were strong enough…
I'd be able to watch their flagship explode in real time…"
---
BOOM!
The forward cannon thundered, and even under the noon sun, the fireball was blinding.
A cannonball half a foot wide screamed from the barrel, soaring into the sky in a perfect arc—
headed straight for that distant fleet.
Marco craned his neck, eyes wide, watching it fly.
Suddenly, he had an idea.
He raced up the observation tower, snatched the telescope from the lookout, and locked onto the flying shell's path.
---
Meanwhile, in the Navy fleet—
Vice Admirals Bastille and Dalmatian stood on the command deck of the lead ship.
Bastille tapped the metal of his signature helmet and barked:
"Order the fleet: full speed ahead! Forward cannons—prepare to fire!"
Dalmatian's spotted dogtail flicked behind him.
"Is that really wise? Our orders were only to monitor Whitebeard…"
"Starting a fight could disrupt Admiral Sengoku's overall plan."
Bastille snorted.
"Whitebeard is a dying relic. He could drop dead in his sleep any day."
"His time is over!"
"All ships—advance!"
With that command, the twenty-three warships surged forward.
Each carried three massive forward cannons, now prepped and primed for a devastating coordinated bombardment.
---
Suddenly, Dalmatian's ears twitched.
"Wait… do you hear that?"
Bastille grinned.
"I hear the sound of Whitebeard begging for mercy, my friend!"
But Dalmatian's expression had turned grim.
Both his long, doglike ears stood fully upright.
He activated both his animal hearing and Observation Haki, stretching his senses to the limit.
And then he heard it—
A shrill, ominous whistling sound cutting through the sky from afar.
"Incoming shell! evasive maneuvers! NOW!!"
He howled at the crew.
But the helmsman stared blankly at him, frozen.
Bastille chuckled.
"Come on, Dalmatian—don't be ridiculous."
"You think Whitebeard could see us from that far away—let alone fire accurately?"
"You've gotta be dreaming."
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