Blood Axe Kuro

"Understood." Van Augur nodded, his fingertips brushing the cold barrel of his rifle as a sharp glint flashed through his eyes.

Doc Q suddenly began coughing beside him, trembling from head to toe. After finally catching his breath, he let out a slow, hoarse laugh. "Something that can silently swallow so many ships... might be something that brings death... hehehe..."

Teach acted as though he had not heard him, bursting into another bout of wild laughter. He drained the strong liquor from his bottle in one gulp, then viciously smashed the empty bottle against a reef, shattering it to pieces.

He stared at the dark, churning sea in the distance, his eyes filled with undisguised greed and ambition.

No matter who was hiding in these waters, no matter what they were capable of.

Those who knew their place could become stepping stones for Blackbeard's rise to the top;

Those who dared block his path would be perfect—he would use their blood to add another heavy streak of Feihong to the Blackbeard Pirates' reputation.

He never could have imagined that this seemingly tranquil, uninhabited stretch of sea concealed a terrifying clan from another world, one that could forcibly adapt even to the rules of this sea.

And this time, his curiosity was about to stir up monstrous waves that would sweep across the entire West Blue.

The morning mist over West Blue had not yet fully dispersed. The gray-blue sea was coated in a faint golden sheen by the rising sun, while a three-masted sailing ship flying a savage blood-axe skull flag cut through the rolling waves, swaying leisurely toward the uncharted waters near Origin Island.

The ship's owner was "Blood Axe" Kuro, a pirate with a bounty of 14 million Beli in West Blue.

With his ruthless skill with an axe and his dealings with gangs to traffic slaves, he had run rampant through these waters for years. The lives on his hands had long become impossible to count.

This time, he intended to take a shortcut through this uncharted zone to Laskamp Island for a major slave-trafficking deal. He had not taken this barren sea—whose outline was barely marked even on maps—seriously at all.

"Captain! Something's wrong! There are people on the sea! They're charging straight at us!"

The shrill cry from the crow's nest instantly shattered the noise on deck.

Kuro had been leaning against the helm, clutching two women he had kidnapped while guzzling rum. At the shout, he shoved them away, grabbed the massive axe stained with dried blood, and rushed to the rail. The vicious gleam in his lone eye locked onto the direction within the morning mist.

In the pale golden dawn, more than a dozen figures dressed in fitted black clothing stood steadily atop the undulating wave crests. They moved as swiftly as hawks skimming the sea, and in the blink of an eye had closed to within two hundred meters of the ship.

The waves beneath their feet seemed supported by an invisible force. Not even the tips of their shoes were wet, and their entire bearing radiated a cold, murderous aura utterly out of place upon this sea.

The pirates on deck instantly erupted into chaos. One after another, they grabbed the blades and guns at their waists, their faces filled with disbelief and shock.

Anyone who could race across the sea either belonged to Marine Headquarters' elite, masters of Geppo, or was a powerful Devil Fruit user. Either way, they were not enemies to provoke lightly.

But Kuro was stunned for only a brief moment before the surprise vanished completely from his lone eye, replaced by an almost crazed, bloodthirsty grin.

He licked his dry, peeling lips and spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm viciously onto the deck. The massive axe in his hand crashed against the steel-plated rail, making the surrounding pirates shrink their necks.

"Bastards, I thought the Navy's pups had caught up to us. Turns out you're just a bunch of trash playing ghost!" he roared in his broken, grating voice, his lone eye brimming with naked greed.

"You dare play tricks in my territory? You must be tired of living! Aim every cannon at them! Fire! Blow these bastards into minced meat and feed them to the fish!"

The moment the order was given, the panicked pirates sprang into action.

The four cannons along both sides of the ship were swiftly turned, their pitch-black barrels all aimed at the figures charging across the sea.

As the loaders viciously yanked the firing cords, deafening booms erupted. Four blazing cannonballs tore through the air with piercing shrieks, hurtling toward the sea.

Choking gunpowder smoke instantly filled the bow. Kuro stood beside the cannons with his arms crossed, his face covered in a triumphant sneer.

In his eyes, even if these people could run across the sea, there was no way they could withstand a direct cannon barrage. Once the smoke cleared, nothing but chunks of flesh would remain on the water.

But the next second, the grin on his face froze.

The leading figure rapidly formed a string of strange hand seals before him. Scarlet Three-Tomoe Sharingan flared to life in the morning mist, and a cold shout pierced through the fading echoes of cannon fire: "Water Style: Water Formation Wall!"

The instant the words fell, the sea before them surged upward into a massive wall of water nearly ten meters high. Like an indestructible shield, it completely blocked everyone behind it.

The four cannonballs slammed into the water wall. Their immense impact only blasted four shallow craters into it before the surging currents completely stripped away their force, sending them bubbling down into the deep sea.

Not even a single extra splash touched those people.

The commotion on deck abruptly died. Every pirate froze in place, the weapons in their hands nearly falling to the ground. All their arrogance and brutality vanished, leaving only terror and disbelief in their eyes.

They had run rampant through West Blue for years and seen countless bizarre Devil Fruit abilities, yet they had never seen anyone summon such a terrifying wall of water with a casual gesture, without relying on any ability at all.

And the dozen-plus figures on the sea gave them no time to recover.

The moment the water wall fell, they pushed off from the waves and leaped into the air. Like more than a dozen black bolts of lightning, they landed directly on the pirate ship's deck.

At the front, Uchiha Yashiro lowered his hands from their seals. His scarlet Sharingan swept casually over the pirates trembling like sieves on the deck. His tone was utterly flat, yet carried bone-piercing coldness. "Leave the ship and supplies. The people will be dealt with according to the usual rules."

The instant his words fell, screams erupted across the deck.

The instant his words fell, the air on deck seemed to freeze solid.

The Uchiha ninja did not even form hand seals. With a flicker of their bodies, they became more than a dozen blurred afterimages. Their scarlet Three-Tomoe Sharingan slowly turned, breaking every movement of the pirates down into laughably slow frames.

These pirates, who seemed like evil ghosts in the eyes of West Blue fishermen, were not even as threatening as moths flying into flames before them. They were not qualified to come within three meters.

A broad-faced pirate roared and swung his blade. Before the heavy cleaver could descend even an inch, a cold flash had already swept past his neck.