"What… what is that?"
"Impossible!"
"A sea storm… of this scale?!"
"I've never seen anything like it…"
The Roger Pirates stood frozen, staring into the abyss that had opened before their eyes. Even for men who had braved the wildest seas and the deadliest tempests, this was beyond comprehension.
Other great pirate crews—the likes of Whitebeard and Big Mom—ruled their territories, their seas, their empires. They rarely roamed beyond their dominion.
But the Roger Pirates were different. Led by their reckless fool of a captain, they had ventured everywhere—into every sea, every island, every forbidden shore. They chased wonders others dared not dream of. They laughed in the face of peril.
And yet—even after years of such madness—never had they seen a storm like this.
Wind. A gale beyond reason.
A storm unlike any other, where towering waves and unending rain spun into the heavens, twisting into a writhing wall of fury.
The sea was mystery and death in equal measure.
And for pirates, nothing was more fearsome than a storm.
Torrents of rain. Winds that howled like demons. Waves that swallowed the horizon whole. Sea tornadoes clawed upward, joining sky to ocean, one after another.
Dozens became hundreds. The storm multiplied, birthing an apocalypse.
Everywhere they looked, the world was breaking apart—an ocean storm so vast it blotted out the sky itself, a legion of hurricanes crashing forward like the collapse of creation.
On the edge of the battlefield, several warships of the Flying Pirates were consumed instantly.
The moment they touched those raging funnels, they were torn to splinters.
Masts snapped. Hulls shattered. Men screamed only once before they were dragged into the air and ground to mist.
The sky turned red with their blood, streaking across the whirling pillars of water.
"Damn it!! What in the hell is happening?!"
The Oro Jackson groaned and shuddered beneath the fury of the storm, its sails ripped to ribbons, every system crushed in an instant. They could do nothing but cling to the deck as if the ship itself might tear apart underfoot.
And they were not alone.
The storm trapped everything—ships on the sea, ships in the sky. Caught in the storm's grip, they were no more than insects in a spider's web, unable to move.
"This… this can't be happening!"
Above them, Golden Lion hovered, but the weight of the storm pressed down even on him. A shiver of dread ran through his chest. His eyelids twitched violently.
He could feel it—his control slipping.
The Float-Float Fruit, his greatest strength, was faltering. The storm's force was too absolute, too overwhelming. Even he couldn't command the skies against nature's wrath.
"Why?! Why is this happening?! That damned navigator swore the Edd War's weather, while rough, was manageable!"
Below, his fleet was being devoured. Dozens of tornadoes marched across the sea like collapsing fortresses, tearing through his ranks.
Thunder split the sky with a deafening roar. Pale bolts of lightning, born of the raging sea itself, flashed ceaselessly. The heavens glowed with electric menace.
"AAAAH!"
"Lord Shiki!! Save us!"
"Boss!!"
Desperate screams carried over the wind. Warships suspended high above were shredded in seconds, their shattered remnants raining down into the maelstrom.
Wreckage. Blood. Pieces of men.
All swallowed by the storm.
The volatile seas of Edd War had fused with the tempest to become something beyond control—something monstrous.
Retreat.
The thought struck Golden Lion like cold steel.
If he lingered, he'd lose everything. The fleet was already gone. And worse—the storm was dragging even him down.
Damn it! He gritted his teeth. If he didn't act now, he'd be swallowed whole.
But just as the thought formed—
"Hahahaha!! Shiki!!"
Roger burst through the curtain of rain, his blade wrapped in black-crimson lightning. His grin was wild, his eyes blazing with madness.
"I'm not done with you!!"
"You fool!!" Shiki snarled, veins bulging, his swords whirling up to meet Roger's strike. "I don't have time for this!!"
CLANG!!
The blades collided, unleashing a thunderous shockwave that lit the sky. Sparks rained, reflecting Roger's mad grin and Shiki's dark scowl.
"I'm not dying here with you!!" Shiki roared, sweat pouring down his back, every nerve screaming as the storm drew closer.
Roger only laughed, voice booming with battle lust. "Then let's fight to the end!!"
You're trapped here… but I'm not! Shiki thought coldly, fury building.
He unleashed his full strength, blades crossing in a violent strike.
"Demon Lion… Wave-Slicing Slash!!"
The air ripped apart as his swords crashed down. Roger, with no foothold in the sky, was hurled backward.
Shiki didn't waste a glance. Behind him, the storm's shadow was upon him.
I have to retreat!
Snarling, he forced the Float-Float Fruit to its absolute limit. His veins bulged, blood streaked from his nostrils, but slowly—agonizingly—he rose.
The storm dragged at him, a monstrous grip pulling him downward, but he wrenched himself free. Inch by inch, he rose higher.
He was escaping.
A wild, savage triumph lit his eyes. His laughter tore across the heavens:
"Jihahahaha! Roger! I'm leaving you here to rot!"
"It's a pity I can't sink you myself…"
"But the result is the same!"
"Your voyage ends today!!"
"What better funeral than this storm itself?!"
"Jihahahaha!!"
His laughter echoed madly over the battlefield.
But then—
A voice, cold as a ghost's whisper, carried across the storm.
"Shoot him down… Enma."
To be continued...