The sea lay still, without so much as a ripple.
The waters of the Calm Belt were inky black, oppressive enough to make breathing difficult.
Two large black warships flying the World Government's amnesty banners glided silently forward, using the seastone coating on their hulls.
Inside the cabins, every Marine held his breath.
They did not even dare cough too loudly, afraid of waking the living calamities on deck.
The stillness was soon shattered.
Huge bulges suddenly rose across the tranquil surface.
Behemoths churned the currents in the depths, sending white foam roiling up from the seabed.
With muffled roars, more than a dozen enormous sea kings, each over five hundred meters long, broke through the surface.
Thick serpentine bodies and hideous fish heads blotted out the sky.
Foul-smelling seawater cascaded onto the warships' decks.
"Reporting, sir! A group of giant sea kings spotted ahead!"
"There are... there are twelve of them!"
"They've completely blocked our route!"
The young Marine at the helm went weak in the knees, nearly losing his grip on the wheel.
Several lookouts turned deathly pale, instinctively reaching for the cannon fuses.
"What are you panicking for?"
A cold snort came from beneath the parasol in the center of the deck.
Patrick Redfield rose unhurriedly to his feet.
He wore a nobleman's red formal suit and leaned on a red umbrella.
Though age had left its marks on his face, his crimson eyes shone with a cold light.
"They're nothing but a few mindless beasts."
"The Marines really do grow more cowardly with every passing year."
The Red Count did not even draw the sword at his waist.
He merely raised his red umbrella with an elegant motion and lightly thrust it into the air ahead.
A crimson bat-shaped shadow took form at the umbrella's tip.