"Don't come any closer! Stay back!"
"Sir—help me… please, sir—ahhh!"
"Damn pirates! I'll take you down with me!"
Inside the Devil's Sea, blades flashed, blood flew—what was meant to be the Navy's third "fishing net" to crush Astona had instead become a slaughterhouse.
Astona's twelve lieutenants were all monsters in their own right. Even without their captain lifting a finger, they could tear through these disorganized, panicked sailors with ease.
From the deck of the pirate flagship, Jerak glanced sideways at Astona, who was calmly smoking a cigar amid the chaos. His heart tensed with a mix of awe and unease.
"After this battle, Astona's name will shake the entire West Blue. Once his fame spreads, he'll have the reputation and influence to recruit freely before entering the Grand Line…"
Astona seemed to sense the gaze. He turned, baring yellowed teeth in a crooked grin.
"Jerak, my friend—how'd you like to join my Blazing Pirates? I could use a good first mate."
Jerak froze. Ten seconds of silence passed before he forced a strained smile.
He understood perfectly. This wasn't just an invitation—it was a veiled demand. Astona intended to absorb the Sea Serpent Pirates and take over their smuggling routes.
Freedom was every man's dream at sea, and Jerak was no exception. But he knew what this meant: he had two choices—
submit and be swallowed whole, or resist and die.
"Since Brother Astona himself invites me, how could I refuse?"
His words were steady, but his fists clenched behind his back.
"Good." Astona nodded, satisfied.
The Sea Serpent Pirates might not have been as notorious as the Blazing Pirates, but they specialized in smuggling and had plenty of skilled fighters—some even part-time bounty hunters.
With their forces joined, the battle, already grim, turned into pure carnage.
"Governor, requesting reinforcements!"
Colonel Robinson was barely standing. One hand held a Den Den Mushi, the other a blood-stained sword.
The bullet wound from Brian's Finger Gun the night before had torn open again—blood poured down his leg, pooling beneath him.
"Hold the line!" came Karl's voice through the receiver. "Don't let Astona escape, no matter what!"
Tears almost sprang to Robinson's eyes. His 185th Branch had sailed in with three warships—nearly a thousand men. Now fewer than a hundred were left breathing.
"Sir, I don't want to die… ahhh—!"
A nineteen-year-old seaman crawled toward him, dragging what was left of his legs, blood smearing the deck.
Before Robinson could reach him, a hulking bald pirate with a scarred face leapt forward and brought a massive hammer down—crushing the boy's skull.
"You bastard! I'll kill you!"
Robinson forced the last of his strength into his arms, slashing his blade at the attacker.
The bald pirate sneered. His name was Anok, bounty: 45 million Berries—the second-strongest man under Astona.
"Heh hahahaha! Pathetic Navy scum! Let me send you to hell!"
With a booming laugh, Anok swung his 150-kilogram iron hammer, knocking Robinson's sword aside and bringing the weapon crashing down.
CLANG!
Metal struck metal.
Robinson dropped to his knees, arms trembling violently. The hammer smashed into his shoulder, bone shattering under the impact.
Spurt!
Blood sprayed from his mouth. The world blurred before his eyes.
"Die, you weakling!"
Anok raised his hammer again—but before it fell, a flash of steel tore through the air.
Whoosh!
A razor-sharp slash grazed his side, opening a bloody gash along his ribs.
"A swordsman?"
Anok gritted his teeth, surprised. He'd fought countless West Blue officers before—he knew them all by name. None had ever been this fast.
The man who'd intervened was Perod.
Seeing him, Robinson collapsed to the ground, a weak laugh escaping his lips. He'd live—for now.
Anok glared at the newcomer.
"Who the hell are you?"
Perod flipped his sword in a flourish, answering proudly:
"As expected of the infamous Blazing Pirates—ruthless and without honor. Then allow me, the disciple of the West Blue Sword Saint Sinrich, second son of the Esquilon family, noble of the Kingdom of—"
Whoosh!
Before he could finish, Anok charged, swinging his massive hammer.
The weapon moved without rhythm or technique—but the sheer force behind it tore the air itself. Each swing sent shockwaves through the water; even a glancing hit could rip flesh apart.
"You barbarian! Attacking before I finish my introduction? Where's your warrior's spirit?!"
"Shut your mouth, pretty boy! I hate pompous nobles like you!"
Anok's face twisted with rage. His hatred burned deep—his own daughter had been defiled and murdered by a noble. Seeing Perod's arrogant bearing snapped something inside him.
But Perod was no ordinary noble. He'd trained under the Sword Saint for fifteen years, his skill formidable. With a calm step and a clean thrust, he pierced Anok's throat.
Pssh!
Hot blood sprayed across his face.
The hammer slipped from Anok's hands as his body crumpled to the deck.
On the Blazing Pirates' flagship, Astona froze mid-drag on his cigar. A smoldering scrap of paper in his coat pocket began to crumble to ash—Anok's life card.
"You… ruined my perfect performance!"
Rage distorted his face. His veins bulged as heat rippled off his skin.
He leapt high from the deck, roaring:
"Blazing Fire Fist!"
Even from a hundred meters away, the wave of flame was terrifying—an explosion of infernal power that tore through the sky toward Perod.
From a distant ship, Brian watched the scene unfold, a faint smile curling his lips.
"So that's it… the Mera Mera no Mi, the Flame-Flame Fruit. No wonder he's so damn confident."
He didn't move. Didn't shout. Didn't lift a finger.
Just sat back, watching the battlefield burn—
content to let them all die.
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