As long as this trash existed, countless people would live in suffering.
There was no time to waste in wiping out pirates. No one could stand against the wishes and hopes of the world's people...
And he would carry those wishes and hopes with him... until he died along the way...
Feeling the bullet mark on the medal in his breast pocket, Isaac unconsciously smiled. Death no longer seemed so frightening to him.
At least this medal of his father's, which his sister had given him, had already stopped one bullet for him...
Perhaps next time, he would not be so lucky...
Thud-
Someone dragged a corpse over and sat down beside Isaac.
"What's wrong? Thinking about home again?"
Isaac looked at the newcomer. He was one of the men whose units had recently been reorganized together.
"Yeah."
"How could I not? I just don't know whether I'll make it back alive..."
If they could live, no one wanted to die...
Isaac looked at the man beside him.
"What about you? I don't think I've ever seen you call home."
The soldier, a little younger than Isaac, answered with a chuckle.
"Me..."
"I haven't had a home since I was six..."
Walkworth Island, New World.
The base the Steam Sea Pirates had retaken.
Pirates slumped on the ground around the harbor in groups of three or five, a disorderly mess. The atmosphere was better than on the Marines' side, but only because they were using alcohol to suppress their fear.
These pirates, who usually plundered villages and towns, had been jolted fully awake and forced to confront the terror called war.
It did not feel like a battle, but a meat grinder...
It was not their lives they were gambling with, but their luck...
If they were lucky, the