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As expected by Major General Jerry, over the next few days, Kyle and the others didn't encounter a single pirate.
All they could see was endless, open sea.
One thing worth noting: yesterday, his system had inexplicably awarded him an extra point.
"I didn't die… but the point still increased," Kyle murmured, quickly piecing it together.
"Yesterday marked exactly one month since I arrived in this world," he realized.
"So even without dying, you still gain points. One point per month."
"Not much, but at least it's a guaranteed baseline."
In other words, if he played it safe and avoided risks, his power would still grow steadily.
He didn't hesitate and poured the point into his Conqueror's Haki, raising it to level 86.
Two more days passed.
Unlike the clear skies from before, now a massive, gloomy cloud hung over them, distant rumbles of thunder echoing faintly.
Below the ship, the waves churned violently, making everyone sway back and forth.
"A heavy storm's coming!" shouted Satori in a deep voice.
"We have to stay alert," Koby warned, his face grim. "Bad weather at sea is just as deadly as any enemy."
Kyle nodded silently, feeling the weight of those words. He remembered clearly the legendary battle in the Etherwal Sea between Gold Lion Shiki and Roger—their fight had also been marked by a monstrous storm.
Storms meant unpredictable danger.
At the bow, Major General Jerry stood with his back to them, smoke swirling around him, deep in thought.
The sky darkened further, and the waves grew even more violent. Bolts of lightning flashed through the clouds, striking the ocean and sending plumes of white mist and electricity into the air.
Even without anything else happening, the spectacle itself was terrifying.
Time stretched on. Thunder roared endlessly, waves thrashed the ship, but the storm hadn't broken yet.
"This… this is going to be an unprecedented storm," Koby muttered, his face tense.
"Kyle," he said, turning to him, "remember this—sometimes the greatest threat on the sea isn't the enemy. It's the weather."
Kyle nodded, tightening his grip on the railing.
The crew sprang into action, preparing for the coming deluge.
The wind howled, whipping across the deck like a living thing.
Then, in a sudden, piercing moment…
"Whistle!!!"
A sharp alarm cut through the roar of the wind. Kyle looked up and saw an officer on the lookout, his face pale, pointing straight ahead.
Kyle turned his gaze. First, he saw Major General Jerry's smoke-shrouded silhouette.
Then, on the churning, dark waters ahead, black dots appeared—hundreds, thousands, stretching as far as the eye could see.
A wave of shock swept through him, freezing his heartbeat.
Everyone around him seemed to hit a pause, trapped in absolute stillness.
After two or three breaths, the tension shattered with a loud, urgent shout:
"Pirates! Pirates!"
"The Sky Pirate Fleet!"
"They're coming straight for us!"
No one could have imagined that an area deemed safest by the Marines would suddenly host the enemy. And judging by the sheer number of black dots, this wasn't just a small raiding party—this was the enemy's main fleet.
Kyle inhaled sharply, eyes wide, jaw tense.
As the moments passed, the dots resolved into strange, ominous ships, forming an arc across the horizon.
Then, as they drew closer, the ships' details became clear—oars slicing through the water, skeleton flags fluttering, a terrifying military presence in both sea and sky.
The sheer numbers were crushing, almost infinite.
"A13 sector, Sky Pirate Fleet confirmed," Jerry's calm voice betrayed the tension by the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Repeat! A13 sector! Sky Pirate Fleet confirmed!"
The communication device crackled. Kyle could recognize the voice instantly—it was Sengoku.
"Report enemy numbers!" Jerry commanded.
"Impossible to calculate," came the reply.
Sengoku's grip on the device tightened, voice firm: "Major General Jerry, your mission—do everything you can to escape the Sky Pirates' range."
Jerry's body shuddered, but he roared back, "Understood!"
The device clicked dead. Jerry took a deep breath, glancing at the endless fleet ahead. Despair clawed at him—the odds of escape seemed near zero.
Visibility was limited by the storm. By the time they spotted the fleet, the ship had almost no time to retreat.
And the Sky Pirates had ships both in the air and on the sea—air speed gave them the advantage.
"All hands, listen!" Jerry bellowed. "Do everything you can! Retreat immediately!"
Even a sliver of hope demanded effort.
The ship's rudder was thrown full, the vessel pivoting to escape. But it was hopeless. The Sky Pirate Fleet had already formed a surrounding formation. No matter which way they fled, they would run into the enemy.
The monstrous fleet ahead advanced relentlessly.
"Shhh!"
Jerry lit his cigar, inhaling slowly, then said, "Kyle… do whatever it takes to survive."
Kyle froze, looking at the unfamiliar superior officer. Jerry opened his mouth, seemingly to say more.
Suddenly, his body jerked violently. The cigar snapped in his mouth. Blood blossomed on his forehead, a bullet hole opening before anyone could react.
The gunshot barely audible, yet it marked the final moment of Major General Jerry.
Kyle's heart sank. The man who had spoken to him just seconds ago was now dead. One bullet, one instant, ended his life.
Chaos erupted aboard the ship. Alarms screamed. Officers fell as bullets tore through them, splattering blood everywhere.
"Find cover! Get down! Snipers incoming!"
The deck was a maelstrom of panic.
Kyle instinctively lowered his head, glancing at Jerry one last time.
Two kilometers away, a cold figure on a pirate ship squeezed the trigger.
"Bang!"
Kyle felt the impact. Pain flared in his brow.
"..."
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