Magma fists rained down without end, blasting the pirates on the plaza into chaos.
"Spread out! Head beyond the harbor..."
With a boom, the pirate who had shouted was swallowed by flames. After a series of screams, he was reduced to charcoal.
The acrid smell of scorched flesh filled the plaza. The widespread burning magma had thinned the oxygen in the area, making the pirates cough repeatedly.
After an unknown number of pirates had fallen, the magma fists descending from the sky finally stopped. Of the pirates who had originally gathered in a huge mass, less than half remained. But this was where the pirates' advantage showed.
If the Marines had suffered such a ratio of casualties, their morale would inevitably have plummeted, if not collapsed entirely. The pirates were different. Whitebeard commanded forty-three affiliated pirate crews. Although those crews had gathered together, they were not much better than fighting as separate groups.
The pirates' casualties were staggering, but amid the chaos, few paid much attention to that. Once the magma fists stopped falling, they were shaken but showed no sign of fleeing.
"Boys!"
Whitebeard stood before the ice wall with his bisento braced against the ground. It struck with a thunderous boom, drawing the attention of most of the pirates.
"We've already achieved our goal. Continuing to fight the Marines will only cause more needless casualties."
After shouting those words, Whitebeard began panting even harder. Although the pirates had suffered devastating losses, more than half had been killed or wounded in a short time. Of the forty-three affiliated pirate crews, twenty-seven had been crippled, five had been nearly wiped out, and the rest had suffered substantial casualties as well.
"All members of the Whitebeard Pirates, listen well. I'm issuing the captain's final command."
As Whitebeard spoke, he turned around