Amid the storm, the Oro Jackson swiftly pulled away from the Island Battleship.
However, they had no intention of leaving outright. They needed time to recover, especially Roger, who had reached his limit and could no longer fight.
They would rest for at least a day or two before leaving.
For now, the storm domain also served as a sanctuary. Who knew how many people were lurking outside, waiting to kick them while they were down?
Especially the Marines. From what Roger and his crew knew of them, they would never let this opportunity slip by.
The fierce winds carried a biting chill that seemed to freeze their very blood.
The normally lively ship was utterly silent.
A somber mood hung over the ship as the crew quietly gazed at the lifeless bodies laid out on the deck.
These were companions they had lived alongside day after day, now lost just like that.
Roger knelt on both knees, taking one swig of liquor after another.
War was cruel. Everyone knew that.
Before deciding to confront the Flying Pirates, they had prepared themselves for losses. After all, the Flying Pirates were indeed stronger than they were.
But with reality laid before them, they still could not suppress the grief in their hearts.
Over their many years at sea, the Roger Pirates had suffered casualties before.
During the Marines' previous encirclement campaign, some of the Roger Pirates' fighters had died, though only a few.
This battle had inflicted the most devastating losses since the Roger Pirates' founding.
The Roger Pirates had originally numbered over seventy. Now, barely sixty remained.
Young and helpless, Shanks and Buggy knelt on the deck, sobbing bitterly.
They had stayed aboard the ship and taken no part in the battle. They could only watch the companions they lived