Chapter 62: The Battle of Edd War
The Oro Jackson had sailed with purpose since Crocus's diagnosis. No wasted days, no lingering on islands. The crew moved with a speed born of knowing the clock was running. Roger's laugh was still loud, his presence still filled the deck, but there was a new edge to their sailing—a hunger that had always been there, now sharpened.
The sky over Edd War was clear the morning the fleet appeared.
At first it was a shadow, a darkness that should not have been there. Then the shadow resolved into ships—dozens of them, floating above the sea, their hulls blocking the sun. The Golden Lion's flag flew from the lead vessel, and at its prow stood a man with a mane of gold and the arrogance of a king.
Shiki's voice rolled down from the sky. "Roger! I've been looking for you!"
The deck of the Oro Jackson went still. Roger looked up, his grin unshaken. "Kuhahaha! Shiki! Still playing with your floating toys?"
Shiki's eyes narrowed. "I have an offer, Roger. Join me. Together, we'll rule the world. I have the fleet. You know the secrets of the ancient weapons. With your strength and my power, nothing can stop us."
The crew waited. Roger's grin did not waver, but his voice was quiet when he answered.
"Rule the world?" He shook his head. "I've never wanted to rule anything. I want to be free."
Shiki's expression hardened. "Then you'll die free."
He raised his hand. "Fire!"
---
The sky turned to iron.
Cannonballs rained down, a storm of steel that would have sunk a lesser ship in seconds. Rayleigh's blade moved first, carving a silver arc through the air, deflecting the nearest volley. Jabba's axes spun, knocking aside shots that came too close. The crew fought with everything they had, but there were too many.
The Oro Jackson shuddered under the onslaught. Sails tore. The deck splintered. Shanks and Buggy huddled behind the mast, their faces pale, their hands steady on their weapons.
Kyle stood at the stern, his hands on the rail, his eyes on the sky. He could not stop the cannonballs. He could not match Shiki's fleet. But he could feel the sea beneath them—the currents, the pressure, the coming change.
The wind shifted.
It was subtle at first, a chill that crept into the air. Then the clouds began to gather, dark and heavy, moving faster than any natural storm. The sea began to churn.
Shiki's fleet, floating above the water, was not immune to the weather. The ships rocked as the wind caught them, and the cannon fire grew wild, unaimed.
"A storm?" Shiki snarled, his attention pulled from Roger. "Where did this come from?"
Kyle did not answer. He had not created the storm—the New World made its own weather, unpredictable and violent. But he could read it, feel its rhythm, and he could guide it. Low vibrations from his palms spread into the sea, shaping the waves, directing the currents toward the fleet above.
A wave rose, not of his making, but he gave it purpose. It crashed against the underside of a floating frigate, sending it spinning. Another wave followed, then another, until the fleet was scattered, its formation broken.
Lightning struck a ship's magazine, and the explosion lit the sky. Shiki's crews were shouting, struggling to control their vessels, their attention torn from the Oro Jackson.
"Now!" Rayleigh called. "Break through!"
The Oro Jackson surged forward, cutting between two listing ships, her crew firing back with everything they had. Shanks and Buggy, no longer hiding, added their voices to the roar.
Kyle did not stop. He kept his hands on the rail, his focus on the sea, pushing the waves, guiding the storm. The effort was immense—sweat soaked his shirt, his arms trembled, but he did not release his grip.
---
Shiki saw his fleet breaking apart. He drew his swords, intent on ending this himself. But Roger was already in the air, his blade drawn, his Haki blazing.
"Kuhahaha! You wanted a fight, Shiki! Here it is!"
Their clash shook the sky. Sword against swords, Haki against Haki, the two legends met above the chaos of the sea. Shiki was strong, his ambition vast, but Roger's will was fire, uncontainable.
A wave, larger than the others, swept toward Shiki's flagship. He turned, raising his swords to deflect it, and in that moment of distraction, Roger struck. His blade found the hull beneath Shiki's feet, and the flagship lurched.
Shiki stumbled. A broken piece of the ship's rudder, torn loose by the storm, caught him across the head. He fell, blood streaming, his fleet already in retreat.
Roger landed on the Oro Jackson's deck, his sword sheathed, his breath heavy. The storm was already fading, the clouds parting, the sea calming.
The crew was silent, staring at the wreckage of Shiki's fleet, at the man who had challenged them and lost. Then Jabba laughed, and the sound spread.
"Kuhahaha!" Roger's voice rose above them. "That's how we do it!"
---
Kyle did not join the celebration. He stood at the stern, his legs weak, his hands raw. Rayleigh appeared beside him, a cup of water in his hand.
"That was not your power," Rayleigh said quietly.
Kyle took the cup. "It was the storm. I just gave it a direction."
"And the cost?"
Kyle looked at his hands, still trembling. "I'll recover."
Rayleigh nodded. He did not press. He only stood with Kyle, watching the last of Shiki's ships disappear over the horizon.
---
Later, when the deck was quiet and the crew was tending to the wounded, Roger found Kyle at the bow. The captain's face was bruised, his coat torn, but his eyes were bright.
"You did good," Roger said.
"I did what I could."
"That's all anyone can do." Roger leaned against the rail, looking at the sea. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."
Kyle looked at him—the man who had been given five years and intended to use every second. "We'll get there."
Roger smiled. "I know."
The Oro Jackson sailed on, her sails patched, her crew tired but alive. Behind them, the sea was already swallowing the last of Shiki's fleet.
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End of Chapter 62