Blackbeard's Terror: This Isn't How the Plan Was Supposed to Go!
On an unnamed island not far from Marineford, a dilapidated pirate ship barely made it ashore.
The hull was riddled with cracks torn open by the shockwave, the masts snapped at the base, and the sails were burned down to just a few charred strips hanging from the barges.
Before the gangplank was even properly positioned, several disheveled figures tumbled and scrambled off the ship's side. Some collapsed onto the beach, gasping for breath, while others knelt in the shallow water, retching and splashing mud and sand all over themselves, not even bothering to wipe it off.
The fat man at the head of the group was as bulky as a barrel. His messy black curly hair was plastered to his scalp in strands from being soaked in seawater. His black mouth, missing several teeth, was panting heavily.
Marshall D. Teach, the newly appointed Shichibukai, had a face that was darker than the bottom of a pot.
He clutched a handful of wet sand from the beach, his knuckles turning white from gripping it so tightly that his fingernails were filled with sand and broken seashells.
According to his original plan, everything should have been a different story—taking advantage of the chaos the Straw Hat Boy caused in Impel Down, he would infiltrate Level 6, release all the vicious criminals whose names had been erased by the World Government, and select the strongest among them to recruit for his own use.
Then, when the fighting at Marineford was at its fiercest, he sat back and watched the tigers fight, waiting for the elderly Whitebeard to be worn down by the Marines before striking to finish him off, using the Dark-Dark Fruit to absorb the Tremor-Tremor Fruit.
With the Tremor-Tremor Fruit, the Whitebeard Pirates ' territory would be his for the taking, and the throne of the New World's Emperor of the Sea would be within his grasp.
Everything is ruined.
It's all fucking ruined.
The images flashed through his mind again and again—the group of black-clad ninjas who jumped from the Moby Dick, their crimson eyes like a horde of demons crawling out of hell;
The Fierce-Eyed Ghost Demon Uchiha Fugaku single-handedly overwhelmed two candidates for Admiral, Gion Tokikake. His purple Susanoo at the bow of the ship, like an insurmountable wall.
And that madman, Godslayer Uchiha Natsu.
The thought of that 1,500-meter-tall, dark gold, thousand-armed Thousand-Armed Buddha Statue descending from the sky, forcing even the master of the Void Throne to take action himself, made Teach feel as if the blood in his body was running backward.
He's seen monsters before; Whitebeard is a monster, Kaido is a monster, and Big Mom is a monster.
But compared to that brat, at least those monsters are still human.
He turned his head, wanting to see how much of his wealth he still had behind him.
Gizzaz Jesus Burgess lay sprawled on a rock, his massive, ox-like body now resembling a tattered sack drained of all its strength;
Van Augur was holding his beloved Senriku, the barrel of which had several new cracks.
Lafitte leaned on his ornate cane, the bottom of which was cracked. The cane's owner was soaking wet, and his usually impeccably dressed suit was now wrinkled like a rag.
Doc Q leaned against Stronger, coughing incessantly. Stronger's head drooped, and the white breath he exhaled from his nostrils was weak and feeble.
These were the crew members who had followed him when he defected from Whitebeard's ship; thankfully, none of them were missing.
But he dared not think about the other three.
Katrin Dermi, Zoan Fruit user with the Dog-Dog Fruit, Mythical Zoan, Nine- Nine-Tailed Fox Form, is one of her proudest finds in Level 6 of Impel Down.
San Juan Wolf, a colossal warship even among the Giant Tribe. Basque Jot, that alcoholic madman.
They were all left in the waters off Marineford.
He watched with his own eyes as San Juan Wolf desperately channeled his Armament Haki, but his massive, wall-like body couldn't even last a second against Ripple.
Before Basque Jote could even scream, he vanished from sight like ink erased by an eraser.
As for Katrin Demey—she was almost out of danger, just a few meters away from jumping onto the boat—a giant wave tens of meters high crashed down from the side, sweeping her into the sea, where she never resurfaced.
"Damn it... Uchiha... Damn Uchiha... Damn it!" Teach's hands trembled as he gripped the sand, the grains of sand between his fingers making a crunching sound.
He was cursing the Uchiha, but anyone could hear the tremor in his voice.
Behind him, Shiryu of the Rain, a cigar dangling from his lips, rested his hand on his sword hilt, staring silently at the horizon.
The Avalo Pizarro Avaro Pizarro leaned against a hole in the ship's hull, his eyes closed, lost in thought.
Jesus Burgess clenched his fists, his lips moved several times, but he ultimately said nothing.
Van Oka held Senriku in his arms, and even the sharpest eyes of a sniper lost focus.
Lafitte lay sprawled on the beach, his back against a rock smoothed by the waves.
His soaked dress clung to his body, and his carved cane rested across his knees. The newly added crack on the cane made his heart ache for a long time.
But he couldn't care less about the cane now.
He remembered it clearly—he was a step too slow, and it was Doc Q and Stronger who pulled him up at the last moment and threw him onto the boat.
If it weren't for that pull, he would probably still be in Marineford, with Jott and the others, one of the countless "words" erased by that ripple.
He closed his eyes, his lips moved, and his voice was so low it seemed to escape from between his teeth, trembling slightly he himself didn't realize. "Monsters... those two guys... they were utter monsters."
No one argued with him.
The sea breeze blew in from the direction of Marineford, carrying a faint, acrid smell, it was hard to tell if it was from burnt wood or something else.
Everyone stared silently at the horizon, their eyes swirling with the same emotions: relief at surviving a catastrophe, and a deep-seated fear of that destructive force.
In another direction from Marineford, dozens of ships of various sizes gathered together, their Whitebeard skull and crossbones flags fluttering in the sea breeze.
On the deck of the largest ship, the Moby Dick, Newgate sat leaning against the railing, with Murakumogiri resting on his lap. His eyes, which usually carried a hint of boldness and laughter, were now half-closed, filled with deep weariness.
He was surrounded by a dense Whitebeard Pirates members, some leaning against the ropes, some lying on the deck, some back to back panting heavily, their legs as weak as lead, unable to even muster the strength to stand up.
Those Division Commander were renowned throughout the New World were now slumped on the ship's side, gazing in the direction of Marineford with lingering fear.
Marco sat in the shadows beneath the mast, the Phoenix's blue flames flickering in a tiny cluster on his shoulder, the blood still smeared on his face;
Jozu's arms remained in a semi-drilled state, not because he forgot to deactivate them, but because he was too tired to deactivate them;
Vista placed the two swords across his lap, his fingers unconsciously tracing the patterns on the hilts.
To be honest, this battle was originally within their expectations.