The sea roared as cannon fire erupted from both sides, the deafening blasts echoing across the island. The horizon trembled with each explosion, waves crashing violently against the coast as the Navy warships closed in on the shore, their massive forms looming like iron giants. The Black Flame Pirates, four figures of unimaginable power, stood undaunted against the storm of destruction unfolding before them.
"Fire the cannons!" The order rang out from a Navy officer, his face smeared with dirt and blood, hands shaking as he pointed to the Black Flame Pirates' position. The soldiers on the ships scrambled to load the massive artillery, their movements frantic but determined. With a deafening roar, the cannons fired once more, sending a volley of cannonballs through the air, crashing into the cliffs and sending splinters of rock flying.
As the smoke cleared, Motoa, towering above the chaos did not receive any injure even though it looked like he was about to die any minute now from his sickly appearanace.
"How is this possible."
"Why is he not hurt."
"I was positive this old man pirate would have blown to bits by that."
The soldiers were shocked when they saw that Motoa was still spotless. Not a ounce of damage was visible on him at all.
"Is this all you've got?" " How can you still not kill this old man yet." Motoa who was coughing and holding his chest tightly.
"Dont let his appearance foul you."
"He is probably faking it."
"Right, kill him."
"Justice will prevail."
The soldiers then rush towards Motoa with 2 Rear Admirals leading the charge of the justice enforcers. Motoa smiled the removed his hand from his mouth, rubbed his head then said,"sigh, all this for a old rackling bone like me."
"Huh, where did he go."
" He was just standing right there."
The soldiers were confused because they did not see where the pirate who was standing before them go. "Stay focus men he is right behind," a rear admiral said as he looked on Motoa who seemed like he could fall any mean. "You're not going anywhere pirate, " the other Rear Admiral said as he dashed into Motoa direction like a shooting star.
"Can't give old-o-me a break." Motoa sighed then coughed harshly, "Its a pity," then a a fine blue ray of light rused across his eyes. Th soldiers who were running tawords him froze dead in their tracks. This caused the expressions of all the soldiers chaneg drastically.
"What's happening."
"Why can't I move."
Before another word could be uttered, crimson red slashes began to appear at different segements on their body cuuting through the soldiers like they were little more than reeds in the wind.
The soldiers around him screamed in terror, their eyes wide with desperation. "Please, we don't want to die!" one soldier yelled as he backed away, his weapon trembling in his hands. But it was too late. Motoa swung his sword with ease, sending another wave of blood spraying across the ground.
A Rear Admiral, garbed in the formal attire of the Navy, rushed toward Motoa with a battle cry. He swung his sword high, his form a blur of motion. "You will fall before justice!" The Rear admiral yelled, his voice filled with fiery conviction.
Motoa didn't even acknowledge him. With a flick of his wrist, the Admiral's charge ended in an instant. Motoa's unseen blade slashed through the man's chest with a sickening crack, the Admiral crumpling to the ground in a heap.
"Another one down," Motoa muttered, coughing violently as he wiped his brow, looking down at the bloodied remains of the fallen Rear admiral. The ground shook with each stomp of his foot as he continued his rampage, unphased by the surrounding chaos.
To the east, Guzen danced through the battlefield, his eyes wild with madness. His movements were erratic, unpredictable, as he cut his way through the Navy ranks with sickening ease. His knife flashed in the sunlight as it sliced through the air, each swing bringing death to anyone foolish enough to come too close.
"More! I want more!" Guzen screamed with manic laughter, his bloodlust palpable as he ripped through the soldiers. His body was a blur of motion, his every movement dictated by the thrill of the kill.
A group of soldiers tried to charge him, their bayonets raised high in an attempt to overwhelm him. But Guzen was faster. He ducked low, evading the first strike with a crazed grin. He stabbed his knife into the throat of one soldier, the blood gushing in a torrent that stained his hands.
"Nice try, soldier!" Guzen taunted, pulling his knife free with a sickening squelch. He spun to face the next attacker, his hand moving faster than the eye could follow. The soldier's bayonet clashed with the hilt of Guzen's knife for only a moment before Guzen drew his pistol, firing point-blank into the man's gut.
The soldier crumpled to the ground, his body lifeless, but Guzen was already on the next one, laughing as he delivered a brutal slash to their neck, spraying more blood into the air.
"Justice is what I make of it," Guzen muttered, a man lost to the fury of battle. The soldiers around him couldn't keep up with his relentless slaughter. With every movement, every cut, Guzen created a path of destruction, leaving nothing but carnage in his wake.
Further along the cliffs, Nixon moved with the calm precision of a predator. His needle, held casually in his gloved hand, was no mere accessory—it was a weapon as lethal as any sword. The air around him grew frigid, cold enough to freeze the moisture in the air, the ground beneath his boots cracking with every step he took.
A Rear Admiral, his face twisted with fury, charged toward Nixon, fists ablaze with fiery determination. "Your reign ends here!" The Rear admiral shouted, throwing a fiery punch that tore through the air with a blazing roar.
But Nixon was unfazed. He tilted his head slightly, watching the punch come toward him with a cold, calculating gaze. As the Rear admiral closed the distance, Nixon raised his cane, and with a single motion, the ground beneath the Admiral's feet froze instantly. A wave of frost surged forward, encasing the man's arm in solid ice before it spread across his entire body. The Rear admiral screamed, but his voice was cut short as Nixon swung his needle with a swift, deliberate motion.
CRACK.
The Rear admiral's body shattered like glass, frozen into pieces and scattered across the battlefield. Nixon's calm expression never wavered as he walked past the remains, his voice cold and cutting through the chaos.
"Fire can burn for a while," Nixon then took a sip of his tea then added, "but frost always prevails." He raised his needle again, and with a wave of his hand, the surrounding soldiers were frozen where they stood, their faces locked in expressions of fear and confusion as their bodies succumbed to the biting cold.
Further back from the front lines, Laffitte stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing as the chaos unfolded around him. Unlike his fellow pirates, Laffitte was not drawn into the heat of battle. He didn't need to be. His mind worked faster than the soldiers' attacks, calculating every move, setting up traps and ambushes with methodical precision.
"Idiots," Laffitte muttered under his breath, watching as the Navy soldiers continued to charge forward, unaware of the traps being laid out before them. "You think you control this battlefield? Watch closely." His lips curled into a malicious smile as his crew triggered the explosives hidden around the island.
The Navy soldiers had no time to react as explosions erupted across the battlefield, sending soldiers flying into the air, their bodies torn apart in a hail of shrapnel. Laffitte traps had been set perfectly, and now the Navy forces were paying the price for their overconfidence.
As the battle raged, Laffitte calmly surveyed the destruction. His cunning and mischievious eyes never left the soldiers' frantic movements. "I'll watch them burn," he whispered to himself, "one by one."
The island trembled under the weight of the war. The Navy fleet had surrounded the shores, their massive ships looming like iron giants. The ocean was a cauldron of chaos as the ships moved closer toward the island, their cannon barrels aimed and ready. The sound of thunderous explosions filled the air, each cannon shot a reminder of the Navy's determination to wipe out the Black Flame Pirates once and for all.
On the Navy ships, soldiers crowded the deck, their uniforms pristine and their faces set in grim determination. "For justice!" they shouted in unison, their voices barely rising above the constant thrum of cannon fire. The ships were on a direct course for the island, their crimson flags flapping in the wind. The Admirals stationed at the helm observed the battlefield with cold, calculating eyes.
"We will bring this land to heel," muttered Rear Admiral Tsujima, his hands gripping the telescope tightly as he watched the destruction unfold. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. The light of the setting sun caught the silver lining of his naval coat, but it was an image lost in the chaos of the battle.
Another Rear Admiral, Karras, barked orders, his voice like a whip cutting through the noise. "Increase fire! Don't let up! These pirates have to understand the price of defying the World Government!"
Nearby, a Navy soldier, a young man no older than 20, crouched beside a cannon, eyes wide with terror. The sound of explosions was deafening, and the island shook with every impact. He was barely holding himself together, his hands trembling as he fumbled to reload the cannon.
"We'll make them pay for what they've done!" shouted a Navy officer, the veins in his neck bulging as he aimed another cannon at the shore. The shrill sound of his command echoed across the deck, calling for more fire.
The warships of the Navy continued to fire their cannonballs, but the Black Flame Pirates were unstoppable. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and blood, the ground stained with the remains of fallen soldiers. The Black Flame Pirates—Motoa, Guzen, Nixon, and Lafitte—stood as pillars of destruction amidst the chaos, each with their own method of killing, each adding to the symphony of war.
The Navy soldiers, despite their courage, were no match for the brutality and cunning of the four pirates. Screams of terror filled the air as the soldiers realized they were being picked off one by one. The once pristine island had become a blistering hellscape, ravaged by the fury of battle.
The pirates did not relent. Motoa kept disapearing from one location to another, but all who dared to approach were diced into segements. Guzen reveled in the madness, his laugh echoing through the battlefield. Nixon froze everything in his path, his calm demeanor belying the carnage around him and Laffitte, the every cunning and playful one remained one step ahead, his traps ensnaring the soldiers in a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Below, the island trembled from the rumble of cannon fire, explosions, and clashing steel. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, sweat, and burnt flesh However, the soldiers who were all around were still determined to put an end to the pirate menace. They charged, shouted their battle cries, these cries were filled with righteous fury.
"For the justice of the Navy! For the World Government!" A Navy soldier screamed, his voice barely audible over the sound of cannon fire as he sprinted toward the frontlines, his rifle raised.
"We'll wipe these vermin from the face of the world!" Another officer shouted, his face set in determination as the sound of exploding shells reverberated through the air.
As the cannonballs from the Navy's ships hit the island, massive plumes of fire and dust erupted from the impact points, sending the soldiers of both sides into a frenzy. The rear admirals aboard the ships were no less vocal.
"Keep firing! The island must fall! No mercy for these pirates!" one of the Rear Admirals barked, his voice cold and commanding, though his face remained stone-faced. His hand gripped a telescope, his eyes never leaving the horizon as he surveyed the ongoing slaughter below.
Amidst the chaos, Laffitte, Nixon, Motoa, and Guzen, four of the most brutal pirates in the Black Flame Pirates crew, surveyed the battlefield with interest.
Laffitte, with his cruel smile and cold demeanor, was perched atop a cliff, watching the Navy's movements below. He twirled his cane absently, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"Look at them… so desperate to prove their so-called justice," Laffitte mused, his voice lilting and mocking. "They cling to it, despite all the death surrounding them. It's almost adorable." He grinned as a cannonball exploded just yards away from a group of Navy soldiers, sending them flying.
Guzen, dancing in a whirlwind of violence, turned his blood-spattered face toward the others. He laughed manically, the sound of his laughter carried on the wind as he cut through soldiers with his blade.
"These fools aren't fighting for justice… they're fighting for power, just like every other lapdog in this world!" Guzen's voice was like a howl, filled with madness. He lashed out, cutting down two soldiers in quick succession, the splash of their blood splattering against his clothes. His body seemed to blur in the chaos, his movements erratic, but deadly.
"Enough with the speeches. Let's show them what happens when you challenge the Black Flame Pirates!" Nixon's voice was filled with frost and poised as ever, as he surveyed the battlefield with an air of calm. His cane tapped against the ground with a sharp, rhythmic sound, and his frosty aura began to spread. The cold radiated out from him, freezing the bloody ground beneath his feet and sending a wave of frost through the battlefield. He raised his cane with an almost bored expression, as if he had no stake in the fight then lightly took a few sips of his tea. Even though, Nixon said that noone paid attention to him but they were looking at a certain part of the battlefield with interest.
In the heart of the island, a collision was about to take place. Enel, the self-proclaimed "god" of the island, floated above the battlefield, his golden staff crackling with violent electricity. His eyes were filled with disdain as he looked down at Crocodile, who stood motionless, a towering figure with his hand raised, sand swirling around him.
Enel's voice echoed across the battlefield. "What's this? A man of sand thinking he can challenge me, a god? Pathetic." The lightning in his eyes flared, and with a flick of his staff, a bolt of pure electricity shot towards Crocodile.
Crocodile, unfazed, raised his hand, the sand beneath him shifting as he commanded it to rise. The lightning crashed into the sand, the intense heat causing the grains to harden into jagged, glass-like crystals, but it wasn't enough to stop the sand from engulfing Enel's lightning.
"A god?" Crocodile's voice was dripping with contempt as he stepped forward, the sand around him shifting in a whirlwind. "A weakling like you should not utter such words."
The air warped as Enel's lightning crackled violently against the swirling mass of Crocodile's sand. Their auras collided with a roar, shaking the ground and splitting the air. Thunder rumbled in response to the storm of sand that whipped across the battlefield, the earth quaking beneath the power of their clash. Waves of raw energy surged outward, distorting everything around them, as if the very elements themselves struggled for dominance. The sky darkened, charged with the tension of their confrontation, while the ground beneath their feet seemed to buckle and tremble in the wake of their immense power. The storm of energy between them was a living thing, an unstoppable force of nature.