Strangle the Enemy at Sea

At last, the smoke over the battlefield gradually dispersed, and victory had been decided.

Beneath the vault of heaven, the World Government's artillery still roared, but the enemy formation had already been blasted to pieces.

Shanks stood on the bridge of a massive warship, his eyes gleaming with a cold, resolute light.

His weathered face was streaked with dust and the scars of war, yet it could not conceal his untamed spirit.

Amid the unending barrage, the last elite forces of God's Knights quietly collapsed.

Shanks had long since led his fleet in a lightning assault, defeating these people who had once called themselves gods one by one in a single fierce wave of attacks.

His warship stood firm as a rock amid the raging cannon fire, while the instruments flashing across the bridge showed the enemy's numbers rapidly dwindling.

"At last, this war has exposed the weaknesses of these false gods."

Shanks murmured, his voice carrying both the joy of victory and calm indifference toward the future.

His eyes remained fixed on the burning sea in the distance. That place had once been the enemy's final stronghold, but now it had vanished without a trace.

As the cannon fire gradually died down, the fleet slowly entered a brief period of rest.

On deck, the soldiers relaxed their tense expressions, speaking quietly as they tended to their wounds;

Some veterans leaned against the railings with their eyes closed, as though reliving the stirring scenes of the battle just fought.

Shanks walked to the front of the bridge and took a deep breath. His gaze stretched into the distance, yet his heart was already calm as still water—at this moment, he was not merely a victor, but more like a sage who had seen through the world, long having understood the