The Grand Line.
The weather was unbelievably clear; sunlight shone on the water, shattering into countless dazzling pieces of gold leaf.
A three-masted pirate ship was moving at full speed, its sails billowing in the wind, and white spray from its bow churning up to both sides.
Captain Vaughn stood on the stern deck, one hand on the railing, a smug smile on his lips.
He had just robbed a small port town without a naval presence; the ship's hold was piled with enough food to feed the entire crew for six months, thirty barrels of rum, and a case of gold bars.
The perfect prey, the perfect escape route, the perfect day.
"Captain!"
On the lookout tower, the lookout's voice boomed down from above.
Vaughn didn't look up; he was still looking at the gold bars in his hand, one on top of the other, heavy and solid, the cool, hard feel of them more real than anything else.
"Explain."
"Warship spotted behind! Approaching!"
The deck fell silent instantly.
All the pirates who were still unloading cargo stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the stern of the ship.
The warship appeared on the horizon, its bow cutting through the waves, its hull gradually growing larger, as if chasing them.
"Damn it." Someone muttered under their breath.
Vaughn stuffed the gold bars into his pocket and squinted at the warship.
The distance was too great to see the people on board, but the ship's design didn't lie; it was a standard naval vessel with an alarmingly large bow gun.
These ships aren't for patrol; they're specifically designed to hunt pirates.
"What's the panic?" Vaughn's voice was low, just enough to drown out the whispers on deck.
"Have you forgotten how many Marine warship we've shaken off? Turn north, there are cumulonimbus clouds ahead. Once we enter the rain zone, they won't be able to keep up..."
"The... Captain!"
The lookout's voice changed.
Vaughn frowned. "Speak clearly before you speak."
"Flag!"
The lookout leaned half his body out of the lookout tower, pointing in the direction of the warship, his voice trembling with a high-pitched shrillness.
"The warship is flying round Fan Flag! Round Fan Flag, red on top and white on the bottom!"
An uproar erupted on the deck.
"Fan Flag?"
"That Fan Flag?"
"I'm definitely dead now..."
The helmsman has already started moving.
Before Vaughn could even give the order, he grabbed the helm with both hands and swung it all the way to the right. The pirate ship tilted violently, the sails thumped in the wind, and the whole ship began to turn around.
This helmsman had been with Vaughn for six years, crossed the Calm Belt, and fought his way out of a three-ship encirclement. He had seen it all, but now he could turn the helm faster than ever before.
Because what that Fan Flag represents is far more terrifying than ordinary Marine warship.
Vaughn's expression finally changed.
"Sure?"
"Sure!"
The lookout's voice was already choked with sobs.
"It's Fan Flag! You know, that one..."
He didn't finish speaking, and he didn't need to finish.
Fan Flag.
The only non-naval flag that can be flown on Marine warship is the private flag. The Marine Headquarters has strictly prohibited any warship from flying a private flag, with severe penalties for violators. No one has made an exception in nearly a century.
The only exception was that dough Fan Flag. No one knew why, and no one dared to ask why. All that was known was that there was only one warship flying that flag, and only one person on that warship who could issue orders.
Newly Marine Vice Admiral.
He was born in the East Blue.
Uchiha.
Once, a pirate who had been chased to the brink of despair tried to fight back, but only when he got closer could he see those eyes clearly.
It's said to be red, and that something inside is spinning. It's also said that if you stare at it, it won't even move.
Of course, it's all "hearsay," because anyone who saw those eyes up close either died or was imprisoned in Impel Down and never came out again.
Don't just stand there!
Vaughn roared, cleaving the panic on the deck.
"Full sails! Full speed! Head into the cumulonimbus clouds!"
The pirates snapped out of their daze and rushed to their posts, hoisting the sails to their fullest extent, the sails catching all the wind, pushing the ships to their limits, waves crashing against the bow and shattering into large plumes of mist.
The pirate ship left a hasty white trail on the calm sea.
It's useless.
Warships are faster.
It seemed to have calculated all possible escape routes for the pirate ship beforehand, and was intercepting it with an almost straight route, its bow always pointing precisely at the pirate ship's port side.
The pirates on deck could already see the details of the warship clearly.
The muzzles of the ship's bow cannons were pointed at them like black holes.
The ship's white paint features the navy's seagull insignia, but two flags fly on the flagpole at the bow.
The top side features a seagull, and the bottom side features Gunbai.
"Fire!" Vaughn roared.
"Don't let them get close!"
The starboard cannons fired, and Six Paths of Kakkō shot out from the side of the pirate ship. Six cannonballs arced through the air and hurtled towards the warship.
The pirates on deck held their breath; hitting the warship would slow it down, and as long as it slowed down, they would have a chance.
Maybe it wasn't him on board, maybe he was just using the flag to intimidate people, maybe...
The warship did not take evasive action.
There was no turning, no acceleration, and no preparation for being hit.
The sailors on deck didn't even squat down; they stood ramrod straight, watching the shells fly by, their expressions as indifferent as if they were watching a rehearsal.
Then the shell stopped.
Six shells hung motionless in the air in front of the warship.
The trajectory of their rotation remains on the projectiles, but when you stare at them, they appear as if they are nailed to thin air.
"No... it's impossible..."
Vaughn stared wide-eyed as the gold bar slipped from his hand and landed on his foot without him noticing.
No one spoke on the deck. Several pirates, still gripping their swords, trembled, the blades clinking softly against their belts.
Someone knelt down, their legs so weak it seemed their knees had given up on their own.
The warships continued to approach.
As it passed by the suspended shell, the shell remained stationary, as if the warship and the shell it fired belonged to two separate, uninterrupted worlds.
A person walked out from the bridge.
He wore a white naval Justice Coat, the two gold stars on his epaulets gleaming white in the sunlight. His black hair was tied back, and he was neither tall nor strong, even somewhat thin.
The sword at his waist was not the standard-issue sword of an ordinary naval officer, but a very simple short straight sword. He walked to the bow of the ship, stood still, and the sea breeze made the hem of his coat flutter backward.
He looked up, Vaughn saw those eyes.
Red.
Against a scarlet background, three Tomoe slowly spread outward, elongated, and merged into four intersecting spiral patterns, like four rotating flames frozen in the pupils, or like something even more ancient, like a wheel, a whirlpool, or the entrance to an abyss.
The light distorted at the edges of the patterns, as if even the light dared not approach those eyes.
Mangekyō Sharingan
Pirate Captain Vaughn stood there, a musket that had appeared in his hand at some point; he himself couldn't remember when he had drawn it.
His hand didn't tremble; it gripped firmly. This was his only source of pride—he was never afraid of the enemy.
Having spent seventeen years at sea, facing Giants, Fish-Men, and pirates with bounties exceeding one hundred million, he was always the first to draw his sword.
But this time he didn't rush forward.