The night grew deeper. Over Ambri Island, dark clouds gathered as the wind and waves began to churn, promising a storm of unprecedented scale.
Despite the oppressive atmosphere, the villa remained brightly lit, the tempting aroma of food wafting from within. A massive dining table was laden with an incredible late-night feast prepared by Monet and Robin. Yet, no one dared touch a knife or fork. No one, except for the very cause of their anxiety, who was devouring the food like a human whirlwind.
"Takero! Are you even listening to me?!"
Raw anxiety bled through Robin's usually calm voice. Her hands were clenched into tight fists, her knuckles white from the strain. "That's a Buster Call! It's ten of Marineford's most elite warships and five monster-class Vice Admirals! It's an indiscriminate attack that will blast this entire island, and all of us on it, into dust!"
"Oh. Is that as strong as an Admiral?" Takero asked without looking up from his plate.
"Th-that's not the point!" Robin stammered, frustrated. "They're completely different things! We have to leave, now! Before they complete their encirclement! Any later… and it will be too late!"
Tesoro stood nearby, his face grim. Though his faith in Takero's power was almost absolute, a Buster Call was a threat on a different level, targeting an entire island. Even if the boss was unharmed in the end, everyone else would be caught in the devastation.
"Boss, Miss Robin is right," he advised earnestly. "We should live to fight another day. There's no need for a direct confrontation right now."
Even Monet and Sugar had stopped their duties, watching anxiously as the only calm person in the room continued to eat.
Faced with their desperate pleas, Takero's only reaction was to keep eating. He stuffed the last piece of steak into his mouth, chewed with satisfaction, and then drained a large glass of wine in a single gulp.
"Burp~"
He let out a loud belch, wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand, and finally looked up at them.
"So noisy," he said, picking at his ear with an impatient sigh. "A few broken ships and a handful of Vice Admirals. What's the big deal? Is this all it takes to rattle you?"
"It's not 'a few' Vice Admirals! It's…" Robin began, still trying to make him understand the danger.
"Alright, alright," Takero interrupted, waving his hand. He stood up and stretched, his bones cracking loudly. "I'm full," he announced. "You all take everyone and get far away from here. Don't worry about a thing."
He looked up through the large floor-to-ceiling window at the full moon, a wild, almost eerie smile playing on his lips. "Just like with that Admiral, I'll handle this Buster Call myself. The moon is pretty round tonight. My temper might get a little volatile later, so remember what I said. Stay far away. It's for your own good."
At that same moment, on the dark horizon, a fleet of immense, ghost-like shadows was emerging from the waves, projecting an overwhelming sense of dread. One, two, three… as the full scale of the fleet came into view, a guard monitoring the coast scrambled to make his report.
"Mr. Tesoro! The enemy ship count… it's not ten! It's… it's over thirty!"
The news exploded in the villa like a bombshell. Robin's face instantly turned ashen. Thirty ships. This was far beyond the standard configuration of a Buster Call. The World Government wasn't just trying to eliminate a threat; they were determined to erase Takero, and the island he stood on, from existence.
A wave of guilt washed over her. She bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry… this is all my fault." She was certain now that she had brought this catastrophe upon him. Why else would the World Government deploy such an overwhelming force?
Takero shot her another exasperated look. "When are you going to stop being so self-important?"
"RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!"
Before she could respond, the deafening roar of cannon fire echoed from across the sea. Countless cannonballs, trailing fiery orange tails, rained down on Ambri Island's port in a terrifying display of destructive power. The ground began to tremble violently as massive explosions lit up the night sky, turning it as bright as day.
Amid this apocalyptic scene, Takero stood in the courtyard and looked up, a brilliant, ear-to-ear grin spreading across his face. He looked like a child who had just been given the greatest toy in the world.
"Oh? It's finally starting." He stretched his neck, letting out a satisfying crack. "Perfect. I'm full, so it's time for some after-dinner exercise. Then I can go back and get a good night's sleep."
Before his words had even faded, he stomped his foot on the ground. With a deafening boom, the earth beneath him shattered, and his body shot into the air—a crimson meteor tearing through the night, charging headfirst into the barrage of cannon fire that could destroy everything.
On the main flagship of the Buster Call fleet, Admiral Kizaru was in command.
"Oooh, what a spectacular sight," he drawled in his characteristic fashion. He sat cross-legged in the commander's chair, holding a steaming cup of black tea and enjoying the fireworks display through the porthole. But a closer look would reveal that the hand holding the teacup was trembling, ever so slightly.
Please, please don't let me run into that monster, he prayed to any god that might be listening. Let the mission end smoothly so I can go home. Please!
Fate, however, had other plans. As he was muttering to himself, a marine on lookout suddenly screamed as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Reporting, Admiral! There's an unidentified flying object! It's… it's approaching the fleet at an incredible speed!"
Kizaru's heart skipped a beat. He stiffly turned his head and looked out the porthole. Amidst the storm of explosions and cannon fire, a single crimson streak of light was weaving through the dense artillery barrage with an impossible grace, heading directly for his flagship.
The figure stopped, hovering in the air directly in front of the massive warship. Even from hundreds of meters away, where he looked impossibly small, Kizaru recognized him instantly. It was the spiky, black-haired man he had hoped to never see again.
Takero floated in mid-air, his eyes fixed on the most imposing ship in the fleet and the 'old friend' he saw standing on its deck. He grinned, his smile exceptionally bright in the fiery night.
"Yo! Isn't it the Flashy Guy?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly across the water to Kizaru's ears.
"Long time no see. I've been thinking about you."
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