Krieg's brows furrowed even deeper.
He stared at Renzo standing on the LC-02, feeling that there was something off about that lazy-looking boy.
The kid hadn't even moved, yet both of Krieg's subordinates had turned strange in inexplicable ways. The feeling made him deeply uncomfortable.
He tightened his grip on his machete, eyes flashing with hostility.
"Looks like you're just messing with me! Since you refuse to cooperate, we will show no mercy! Everyone, get ready! Tear that damn ship apart!"
The pirates immediately raised their weapons, ready to attack. The atmosphere turned tense in an instant.
Potts squeezed his eyes shut, convinced a bloody battle was about to break out.
But Renzo just stood where he was, not even changing his stance. He lazily muttered in Krieg's direction, "So noisy… Before you start fighting, can you be quiet for a bit?"
His voice wasn't loud, yet it clearly carried across to every ship in Krieg's pirate fleet.
The rowdy pirates froze mid-motion as if someone had pressed a pause button. Even Krieg's raised machete hand stopped halfway through the air.
The East Blue breeze still blew, the sunlight still shone, but the pirate ships encircling the LC-02 suddenly fell into an eerie stillness.
No one moved. No one spoke. Only the sound of waves hitting the hull echoed faintly in the air.
The sea breeze itself seemed to grow heavy.
Krieg's arm holding the machete stiffened in midair.
His muscles screamed at him to swing it down, but his fingers felt wrapped in lead, making it impossible even to grip the handle tightly.
He glared at the lazy boy on the LC-02, a low growl rising in his throat, but he couldn't even form a coherent threat.
His mind felt like it was filled with glue. The burning fury inside him was slowly extinguished by an inexplicable thought, 'there's no point.'
"You… what did you do to us?!"
Krieg's voice trembled, not out of fear, but out of frustration mixed with a hint of powerless confusion he didn't even realize.
His subordinates fared worse. A moment ago, they'd been shouting and waving weapons; now they were either dozing against the rails or staring blankly at their hands. Even the deck beneath their feet felt soft and inviting, as if urging them to lie down.
Renzo leaned against the ship's railing, too lazy to even stand up straight. Half-lidded eyes swept over Krieg's fleet as he said flatly, "Didn't do much. You were just too noisy."
He stretched lazily, his joints cracking softly.
"Fighting's such a hassle. If you've got any fresh meat on board, leave it. I'll pretend I didn't see you."
That last line completely enraged Krieg.
He was a feared Admiral of the East Blue. When had anyone ever looked down on him like that?!
Grinding his teeth, he forced his arm to move.
"Bastard! I'll tear you to pieces!"
He roared and finally swung his machete down.
The blade sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, then suddenly slowed, as if it had entered thick honey, before falling with a dull clang onto the LC-02's deck. Not even a splinter flew off.
Renzo didn't dodge, only glanced down at the fallen machete and frowned. "Dropped your blade, huh. Picking it up's a pain."
[Sloth's Declaration, Object Type] activated.
The machete trembled slightly, then, as if it too couldn't be bothered anymore, its surface dulled, the metallic shine fading into a rusty, lifeless gray.
Its sharp edge visibly decayed until it looked like a piece of corroded scrap metal, incapable of even cutting wood.
Krieg's pupils shrank in horror.
He finally realized the truth: this boy wasn't some ordinary Marine.
This was a power that could twist the laws of reality!
"R-retreat…"
For the first time, Krieg's voice carried genuine fear.
He didn't want to fight anymore, not because he couldn't win, but because even the desire to fight was slipping away.
If he stayed any longer, he feared he'd fall asleep like the rest.
The pirates, as if pardoned from execution, sluggishly put away their weapons and slowly turned their ships around.
But as soon as they started their engines, the hulls grew unbearably heavy, as if bound by invisible chains.
Renzo lazily muttered, "Go ahead and leave, but don't sail so fast. The ships get tired too."
And so, Krieg's once-formidable fleet withdrew at a snail's pace. The proud pirate armada now looked like a group of deflated balloons, sails drooping, decks silent, less like they'd fought a battle and more like they'd collectively fallen asleep.
Potts didn't unclench his grip on his shirt until the pirate ships had vanished into dots on the horizon. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Commodore… they're… they're really gone!"
"Mm." Renzo bent down, picked up the now-rusted machete, and casually tossed it into the sea.
"So noisy. Now they've delayed my food hunt."
He turned toward the cabin, then paused and asked, "By the way, when you looked at Krieg's ship earlier, did you smell meat?"
Potts blinked, thought about it, then shook his head. "N-no, sir. Just the smell of dried fish."
Renzo's face instantly fell.
He'd been at sea for so long, and aside from the little food haul from the Gluttony, he hadn't eaten a proper meal since. Potts's fish soup had left a lasting trauma.
"Forget it. Let's hurry to Baratie."
Renzo collapsed onto a deck chair, pulled a half-melted milk candy from his pocket, and popped it into his mouth.
"If Sanji's cooking isn't good, I'll flip his kitchen."
Potts quickly nodded and turned to adjust the rudder.
Halfway there, he suddenly remembered something and pulled a worn treasure map from his pocket. "Commodore, should we head to Warmwave Island first? The map says there's a special hot spring and delicious fruit!"
Renzo chewed his candy thoughtfully.
Soaking in a hot spring while napping sounded nice, and unknown fruit was tempting, but detouring and looking for the island sounded… bothersome.
"We'll see."
He mumbled, "If it's on the way, we'll go. If not, we find the cook first."
Potts, used to his superior's "go-with-the-flow" attitude, tucked the map away and focused on steering.
The LC-02 set sail once more, heading toward Baratie.
The sea breeze carried a salty tang, and sunlight warmed the deck until it felt like a blanket.
Renzo lounged on the chair, idly tapping the armrest as his mind drifted to thoughts of Sanji's cooking, crispy-on-the-outside tender-on-the-inside steak, cheesy seafood fried rice, rich creamy soup… His mouth nearly watered just imagining it.
"Hurry up and get there already…"
He murmured, voice fading as his breathing steadied.
He'd fallen asleep again, dreaming of steaming dishes and a blond chef busy in the kitchen.
Potts glanced at his peacefully sleeping superior and sighed helplessly, increasing the ship's speed just a bit.
He didn't know whether this "Sanji" could satisfy Renzo's picky palate, but if he could stop the Commodore from complaining about bad food, then this whole search-for-a-cook journey would be worth it.
Far ahead, the outline of a strangely shaped ship appeared on the horizon: Baratie, the floating restaurant.
Potts's eyes lit up. He was about to call out to Renzo, but remembering how cranky Renzo got when woken up, he swallowed the words and quietly adjusted the course toward their next destination.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu