"Those two are insane! We're doomed!" Buggy's wail vanished into the thunder.
Lightning and slicing winds crashed together as Kaido and Big Mom's combined assault fell, dragging the crew toward despair. Faces darkened; hearts sank. On an open sea, strength meant little against a disaster that covered the sky.
"We fight or we die!" Rayleigh shouted, rain streaming off his brow. He clenched his longsword and sprang from the bow into the storm.
Steel carved the heavens—hurricane slashes lashing up to meet the falling bolts. Beside him, Gaban darted wide; twin axes flashed, hurling crossing arcs through the air.
Sword gales smashed into purple lightning; whirling axe-strikes shattered dark green wind blades. The sky detonated. A shockwave rolled outward, pressing the deck until hairline cracks crawled across the planks and the hull groaned like a living thing.
The barrage only thickened. Roger threw his head back and laughed, stepping in beside them. His blade split the storm; black-red thunder of Conqueror's Haki leapt from his sword and crushed bolt after bolt.
Explosions flared around the ship, the Oro Jackson bucking as if it might fly apart under their feet.
"Damn it! The ship won't last!" Gaban shouted, rain and sweat stinging his eyes.
"We need a way out of their range—now," Rayleigh snapped through his teeth.
"We're out of fuel for the engines!" someone cried from below.
"Wororororo! You're finished, Roger!"
The dragon's laughter rolled across the sky, those blood-red, lantern-wide pupils burning with hunger.
"Hand over the Poneglyph!" Kaido roared, the vast body trembling with excitement. "Or you'll be buried here!"
Rocks had fallen to Roger years ago; Kaido could taste the chance to erase that shame. With the Poneglyph, the Final Island would finally be within reach.
Perched on the dragon's skull, Big Mom trilled her witch-bright cackle. "Mamamama! Give it up, Roger! You've got nowhere left to run!"
Roger only laughed harder. "Don't be ridiculous! You two think you can take down me?"
He drew a breath. Lightning crawled along his blade—Ace—black-red and vicious. The power he had been holding back surged free, crosshatching the air with bolts until the void itself seemed to crackle.
Crimson light sparked in his eyes.
He stepped and cut.
Blood-red brilliance unfurled like a river of stars, a storm of thunder riding its edge. The slash ripped through the sky—lightning, wind, and cloud torn asunder—leaving the darkness split to its roots.
"Hahahaha! See that?!" Roger roared, Haki still ringing as he planted a hand on his hip. "If you want Gol D. Roger, you'll need more than the two of you!"
The laughter died—
Boom!
Cannon thunder rolled in from the horizon. Black iron screamed overhead, plunging into the sea in pillars of spray that rocked the ship anew.
The crew stared out through the rain. Far off, hulls knifed toward them—pirate fleets driving hard through the storm.
A bull-horned skull on one flag.
A grinning pink emblem on another.
The Beasts Pirates and the Big Mom Pirates—main forces.
Through the downpour, ranks of ships swarmed closer, decks crowded with jeering faces that flickered in lightning glare.
On Big Mom's flagship, a towering figure stood still as an iron nail, crimson hair whipping as he held a trident inverted—Charlotte Katakuri, her top commander.
On the Beasts Pirates' flagship, a hulking man in striped coveralls capered and roared—Queen the Plague.
Above, a shadow knifed down out of the clouds: a Pteranodon wheeling with burning wings, amber eyes cool and predatory—King the Wildfire.
"Their main fleets are here!"
"Damn it, Roger—did you have to say something?"
"Captain, what are you doing?!"
Rayleigh and the others shot him a look that could cut. Roger clapped a hand over his mouth, sheepish.
"We can't keep trading like this," Rayleigh said, low and urgent.
Roger wiped the rain from his face and scanned the writhing sea. The downpour blurred the world to ink.
Then he grinned wide, lifted his sword, and pointed. "We'll cross blades with them—there."
The crew hesitated, then turned. Far off, through sheets of rain, the hazy outline of land rose from the horizon.
"That's…"
Gaban slammed his axe heads together, sparks jumping. "Miracle Island!"
"Miracle Island?" Roger laughed, delighted. "What a magnificent name."
"Then it's settled! We'll make Miracle Island the cradle of the Roger Pirates' legend!"
Below deck, his audacity caught fire. Eyes burned brighter; backs straightened.
Under a rain of shot and the reek of powder, they stood on the boards and let memory surge up:
Setting sail. Daring raids. Bloody trials. Bright triumphs.
Loguetown. Reverse Mountain. Alabasta. Skypiea. The Edd War's waters. Fish-Man Island. Totto Land. Zou.
Their great, unbounded voyage.
And now—this battle before them. The cresting of the wave.
"Charge!"
"To Miracle Island!"
"For freedom!"
"We are… the Roger Pirates!"
The shout split the storm. As if answering, the Oro Jackson lunged forward, taking the seas beneath her—faster, and faster still—until she was a streak through thunder and rain, a blade cutting a path toward the island's shadow.
To be continued...