Yet amid those heroic, mournful cries, fear and anxiety quietly spread through their hearts.
Shanks stood in a corner of the city's rest area, his gaze grim as both hands gripped the blood-soaked longsword.
He knew that even though Elbaf had always called itself the strongest nation, it could barely withstand this overwhelming enemy force now.
His heart was filled with responsibility and anxiety—
This was not merely a battle to defend the city, but a contest that concerned the fate of the entire world.
With the orderly support of the Neo Marines, several defensive lines had formed across the battlefield, but every one of them was littered with wounded, exhausted figures.
The soldiers fought with everything they had at their positions, encouraging one another. Determination flashed in their eyes, yet the fear in their hearts remained impossible to hide beneath faces cut open by artillery fire and sharp weapons.
"Our plan has been put into action. Now we'll see how long we can hold against this army at our gates!"
Shanks muttered, staring at the enemy forces surging toward them.
Whenever a thunderous barrage ended, he saw soldiers supporting one another, helplessness and resolve flashing through their eyes.
In the distance, the Neo Marines' flag snapped loudly in the wind, like an unwavering beacon guiding Elbaf, now on the brink of despair, toward its path forward.
Across this plaza filled with smoke and blood, every cry and every clash seemed to proclaim to the world: Elbaf would never yield, no matter how perilous the road ahead.
The earth had been dyed red, the smoke had yet to clear, and only the symphony of iron and blood remained on the battlefield.
Bartholomew Kuma was drenched in blood, the countless wounds covering his body speaking of slaughter that had nearly driven