"Have you counted them all?"
From aboard the Marine warship came a calm voice. "How many in total?"
"All counted, Rear Admiral!"
The freckled Captain aide turned back excitedly, rubbing his hands together.
"At least 250 of them! At the rate we were given — five hundred thousand Berries each — that's a total of over 125 million Berries!"
"We've struck gold, Rear Admiral! This time, we're really rich!"
One hundred and twenty-five million Berries?
Not bad at all. Almost as much as the total he'd pocketed in kickbacks over the past few years. Rear Admiral Engel smiled inwardly, though his expression remained composed. Stroking his pointed beard, he said coolly:
"Don't get too excited. Tell the men — when those brats get close, move fast. Clean up the bodies immediately and pull out. We'll split the money on the way back. The longer we stay, the greater the risk. Got it?"
"Understood, Rear Admiral! Don't worry — the men we brought this time are all veterans. They know the drill."
The freckled Captain chuckled slyly, then, with a flattering grin, added:
"By the way, I bet that big shot who gave us this job never imagined you'd come up with something this clever! They probably figured a few million Berries would do the trick, but now they'll have to pay out over a hundred million. That's gotta sting, huh?"
"Heh."
Rear Admiral Engel's chest swelled with pride, though he waved a hand modestly and said with feigned humility:
"Don't underestimate that man. He's with the World Government. We've worked together before — generous, straightforward type. To him, a hundred million Berries is nothing. Just a drop in the bucket."
"Heh, that's true…"
The Captain scratched his head, smiling in mock innocence.
Engel clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look toward the mouth of the valley, where a group of children were running toward the ship — waving and cheering excitedly. His mood couldn't have been better.
These past few days, things really did prove that old North Blue saying true:
"When God closes one window, He often opens another."
Though in this case… the door that opened had been quite the twisted one.
Originally, he had planned to use this mission as a chance to work alongside Vice Admiral White Dragon, hoping to cozy up to that powerful figure and grease the wheels for his own promotion.
Unfortunately, that Vice Admiral seemed to see right through him — not once throughout the journey had the man shown him the slightest interest.
Just as Engel was stewing in disappointment, he received a secret order from an old acquaintance — a powerful figure.
The instructions were simple:
Take a trusted subordinates to patrol the waters near the White City border, hunting down any "fugitives" who managed to escape the border. The reward offered was… substantial.
How could Engel possibly refuse such a lucrative side job?
He knew he had no chance of getting on the Vice Admiral's good side anymore, so he hung up the call, left the fleet immediately, and led his handpicked men to this stretch of coast near his own base.
But reality proved disappointing.
The border, heavily guarded by the armies of the five neighboring kingdoms, wasn't easy to break through. After an entire day and night of waiting, they'd caught only one poor soul trying to escape.
Cursing his bad luck, Engel was about to call it quits and head back when the ship's Den Den Mushi suddenly crackled to life — a distress call, coming from a church inside the city.
The voice on the other end belonged to a young nun — pleading desperately for mercy, begging that at least the city's children be allowed to escape that white hell and find some hope of survival beyond the borders.
Survival? Eng couldn't have cared less.
But as he listened, an idea sparked in his mind — a brilliant, profitable idea.
He decided to play along.
To lure the "fish" into the net himself.
And now, after waiting patiently, he could see the results of his scheme:
hundreds of children had emerged from the valley, spilling onto the open beach, waving and laughing as they ran toward the Marine ship — toward what they believed was salvation.
"Let's move."
Eng smiled thinly and raised his hand toward the shore.
His voice, though pleasant, carried a chill that could freeze the soul:
"Men… time to pull in the net."
...
"Law, your face looks awful. Why don't you let me carry Lami for a bit?"
A familiar voice sounded beside him.
Law struggled to lift his head and saw Sister Teresa had somehow made her way to the back of the group, watching him with deep worry in her eyes.
"I'm fine, Sister," he said, forcing a weak smile. "I've already made it through the whole night — it's just this last stretch of sand left. I can hold on for a few more minutes."
"Nonsense. You're clearly at your limit. There's still at least a kilometer to go before we reach the shore," she scolded gently, giving him a reproachful look. Without another word, she lifted Lami off his back and handed him half a bottle of water. "Let me handle the rest. You drink this and rest a bit."
"But… but…"
Before Law could react, the nun had already slung Lami onto her own back. Seeing how pale and bloodless her face had become, he hurried to protest, "Let me carry her, Sister. You've been carrying Aisha and Yumi all night — you must be even more tired than me!"
Aisha and Yumi were six-year-old twin girls who had fainted from exhaustion the night before. They were awake now, chasing each other playfully a few steps ahead — their little ponytails bouncing as they ran, giggling in the morning light.
"I'm an adult, remember? I'll be fine," Sister Teresa said firmly.
They continued walking for several hundred meters. Law still refused to give up, and she was about to say something more to reassure him when her eyes suddenly lit up. She smiled and pointed toward the coast.
"Look, the Marine soldiers from the evacuation ship are already coming ashore! Once they get here to help, I won't have to—"
The final word — "tired" — never left her lips.
Bang! Bang!
Two gunshots rang out almost at the same time.
Law and the nun froze, instinctively turning their heads — and their pupils shrank in horror.
Blood sprayed into the air.
The two little girls, Aisha and Yumi, who had been running ahead, were thrown several meters by the bullets. When their bodies hit the ground, their chests were already a mess of torn flesh and blood.
In the distance, the Marine soldiers who had just stepped off the ship stood grinning, cigarettes hanging from their mouths, rifles raised casually in their hands.
W–What… what was happening?
All the children stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear. Law's mind went blank, his thoughts frozen — unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Until—
"Everyone, run!!"
Sister Teresa's scream tore through the air, snapping him out of his daze. His heart pounded violently; adrenaline flooded his body. Without thinking, Law spun around and scrambled desperately toward the valley — crawling, stumbling, using both hands and feet.
Run!
Run!
Just run!
That warship — it wasn't a evacuation ship at all.
Those smiling "Marines"… they weren't saviors come to rescue them.
They were demons, crawling straight out of hell — come to claim their lives.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gunfire behind him never stopped, rounds whizzing past; a few skimmed so close they stirred up clouds of sand as they struck the beach.
That was close…
Just after dodging one, Law didn't have time to catch his breath when he suddenly remembered something, his face changing dramatically.
No!
I forgot Lami! Lami is still back there!
Remembering his sister, Law didn't hesitate. Gritting his teeth, he spun back around.
But just as he turned, he watched in horror as a screaming bullet tore through Sister Teresa's chest, then burst out from the nape of Lami's neck on her back—
No!!!
Law's eyes bulged; they instantly swelled red and tears flooded out.
Through his blurred vision he could barely make out Sister Teresa's body wobbling a few times before she and the child she carried crumpled together.
They fell into a pool of blood, surrounded by a ring of tiny corpses.
In an instant, the last sliver of his will to live sank away. Law felt every ounce of strength drained from him; pale and vacant-eyed, he slowly collapsed to his knees.
And in that moment—
A bullet that had been aimed for his chest missed because of that kneeling motion, but it still tore through his shoulder blade. Blood erupted in a torrent.
Law gave a muffled groan and went rigid before toppling backward. As he turned his head, his dim, unfocused eyes caught sight of the small cross that had fallen from Sister Teresa's chest.
In the morning light, that silver cross—her companion for years—still flashed a warm glow.
Sister…
You were wrong. The light you believe in doesn't exist. No matter how devout a follower is, the Lord will still abandon them.
Law's lips moved soundlessly as he muttered, and the searing, tearing pain in his shoulder blurred his mind. Everything around him felt like it was being swallowed by thick fog and slipping away…
In the distance—whether it was illusion or the mind playing tricks—he thought he heard thunder rolling across the sky.
What is this?
God's divine punishment?
Law laughed mockingly. This was the last thought that flashed through his mind. The next moment, he could no longer hold on. His vision went black, and he completely passed out.
…
After another round of shots, the Marines, blowing gun smoke from their barrels, left the beach to a crushing silence.
"All cleaned up?"
On the shore, Rear Admiral Engel stroked his goatee and asked leisurely.
"Almost, Rear Admiral. All of them are here—none got away."
The freckled Captain counted and grinned as he turned. "Some of them don't look fully dead yet. A few were even playing possum on the sand."
A breeze ran across the beach, and whether from fatigue or not, a few small forms lying there gave a faint twitch of their eyelids.
"No difference."
Engel ignored the twitch and said calmly:
"We don't need any live captives. Just take the heads—cut them off and toss them in the sacks. Bury the bodies where they lie. Dig deep; at this time of year there are plenty of vultures."
"Maybe we should just toss them into the sea instead — would save us the trouble."
The freckled Captain grinned as he made his suggestion. Engel shot him a glance and was about to reply when, all of a sudden, the sky seemed to darken. In the distance, thunder rumbled faintly closer and closer.
"Rain?"
Engel looked up at the gathering storm clouds and clicked his tongue. "Tch. Just our luck. Forget it—there's no time to bury them. Do it your way. Throw them all into the sea."
But when he finished speaking, no one answered.
Engel frowned, irritation rising. He turned, ready to bark an order—only to see his Captain standing frozen, mouth agape, pointing behind him with a look of pure horror.
"R–Rear Admiral…"
The man's voice shook. "It's not… it's not the rain… it's—it's—"
"IT'S VICE ADMIRAL WHITE DRAGON!!!"
BOOM!
As if a thunderclap exploded in his mind, Engel's face changed dramatically. He whirled around, looking in the direction the freckled Captain was pointing.
There, beneath the thunderclouds, a familiar tall figure was floating there, holding a thin man in a white CP uniform who looked terrified.
His gaze met the eyes of Nao looking down from mid-air.
The once gentle and approachable face was gone, replaced by an expression of chilling, merciless cold.
That one look alone made him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
SHHH!
In the next instant—
Everything blurred. Before anyone could react, Nao, who had been hundreds of meters in the sky, was suddenly right in front of Engel. His face dark and grim, he seized the Rear admiral by the throat and lifted him effortlessly off the ground.
—————
Meanwhile…
Over a hundred kilometers away, aboard the Thunder Hawk.
"We just managed to make contact with the people inside White City. The situation there is even worse than we feared."
In the conference room, Momonga spread out a sea chart, his expression grave.
"Flevance's population used to be close to two hundred thousand. In the past month, it's dropped by more than half. Most of the survivors lack medicine — the disease is completely out of control."
"But the most pressing issue right now isn't even the Amber Lead Disease."
He slammed his hand down on the map, pointing to the five nations surrounding Flevance.
"It's these five neighboring countries! Out of fear of contagion — and greed for the White City's mineral wealth — they've all mobilized their armies. By tomorrow, maybe even today, they'll launch a full-scale invasion!"
"When that happens, it won't be the disease that destroys this nation — it'll be a war of extermination."