"Ram them?"
When Yas's cold, insane order rang out across the bridge, Brannew felt his heart skip a beat.
His eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at Yas's aloof back, almost convinced something was wrong with his ears.
Ram them?
That was the Razor, flagship of the Bloodjaw Pirate Crew-a heavily armed warship every bit as large as the Leviathan, subjected to countless bloody modifications.
Use a warship to ram a pirate ship?
What kind of tactic was that? It was a suicidal attack only the most reckless pirates would attempt.
"Captain Yas! Please reconsider!"
Brannew's face went deathly pale. Instinct as a veteran commander made him steel himself and speak up against it.
"The Bloodjaw Pirate Crew excels at boarding actions and close combat! Every member aboard their ship is a battle-hardened butcher! Closing in on them is exactly what they want!"
"Our Leviathan's advantages are its gun range and maneuverability! The safest tactic is to maintain a safe distance and bombard them with heavy guns, wearing down their fighting strength before surrounding and eliminating them."
"Brannew."
Yas cut him off without turning around, a distinct trace of impatience in his voice.
"Are you questioning my orders?"
That single sentence instantly made Brannew feel as though he had plunged into an ice cellar.
He remembered the weight plate that had been silently erased. He remembered that fear from the depths of his soul, which he still could not forget.
He opened his mouth, but every word of protest stuck in his throat. He could not utter a single word.
Finally, he lowered his head in defeat and answered in a hoarse, despairing voice, "No, sir. I wouldn't dare."
"Good."
Yas spoke flatly.
"Then carry out the order."
"Yes, sir!"
Brannew gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. With every ounce of strength he had, he roared into the communications Den Den Mushi the order he believed would send them all to hell.
"Helmsman! Maintain course! Engine room, maximum power!"
"Attention, all hands! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!"
"Target the enemy flagship! Prepare to ram!"
As that insane order spread through every corner of the Leviathan over the loudspeakers, the entire ship fell into an eerie, deathly silence.
The elite soldiers who had only just sworn their loyalty went pale, their palms slick with cold sweat.
They were all elites. They all understood what the word "ram" meant.
It meant abandoning the gun superiority the Marines took such pride in and every tactical maneuver, to fight a band of New World pirates renowned for brutality and madness to the death in the most primitive, bloody, and savage way.
Fear spread silently through every corner of the ship like a plague.
"He's mad. The new captain has to be mad!"
"How is charging straight at them any different from going to our deaths?"
"God, why did I have to be transferred to this ship?"
Yet in stark contrast to the new recruits' panic, Bullet and the dozens of Vanguard veterans under his command felt no fear whatsoever upon hearing the order. Instead, their eyes lit up, their faces filled with fanatical excitement.
Ram them.
That was the Major Yas they knew-no, Captain Yas.
To hell with tactics! To hell with distance!
Before their godlike, demonic commanding officer, every scheme and trick was a joke.
The only tactic was to crush straight through.
"Get your asses in gear!" Bullet kicked open the gunnery room door and roared at the pale-faced greenhorns inside. "Who do you think you're following? Captain Yas! The living legend who sank a massive ship with one finger and crippled Vice Admiral Garp with one punch!"
"Put away that pathetic fear! Keep your eyes wide open in a moment! Take a good look at what real war is!"
Bullet's roar was like a shot of adrenaline, easing the recruits' panic a little.
That was right. The man they followed was a monster through and through.
Perhaps-perhaps they really could win?
While unease gripped the Leviathan, deafening laughter and cheers filled the Razor opposite them.
"Hahahaha! Look! What are those Marine idiots doing? They're actually charging straight at us!"
"They want to play a game of ramming with the Bloodjaw Pirate Crew? Have these morons forgotten how to fight?"
"Boss! They're handing us the credit on a platter! That ship looks like the Marines' latest model. If we capture it and offer it to Lord Rocks, we'll get an incredible reward!"
On deck, hundreds of pirates waved bloodstained swords and axes, howling like beasts.
Every one of them was burly and hideous, covered in terrifying scars and tattoos. The ferocity honed amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood seemed almost tangible as it surged outward.
At the very front of the bow stood a man over four meters tall, his muscles like cast steel and his jaw replaced with enormous, razor-sharp steel teeth. He had a foot planted on a still-wailing Marine prisoner as he watched the approaching Leviathan with a savage grin.
He was Bloodjaw Carlos.
"It's been a long time since I've seen Marines with this much guts."
Carlos bit through the neck of the prisoner beneath his foot with his metal jaw, then spat the corpse into the sea like trash.
He extended his scarlet tongue and licked the warm blood from his metal teeth, a cruel, greedy gleam in his eyes.
"But courage is worthless in the face of absolute violence!"
"Boys!"
Carlos raised his enormous spiked club, broader than a door, and let out an earth-shaking roar.
"Get ready to welcome our lovely dinner!"
"Tear them all apart! Feed the men to the Sea Kings, and keep the women for us to enjoy!"
"Yeaaaaaah!"
The pirates howled even more wildly, their eyes turning crimson with bloodlust.
Amid the frenzied cries of their crews, the two enormous steel beasts thundered toward each other with unstoppable momentum.
The distance closed to five hundred meters.
Four hundred meters.
Three hundred meters.
Brannew could even clearly make out the pirates' twisted, vicious faces, filled with the desire to torture and kill.
His heart nearly leaped into his throat.
He clutched the command console in front of him, his knuckles white from the force of his grip, and murmured as if talking in his sleep, "It's over. It's all over."
Then, in the final second before the ships collided-
Yas, who had stood motionless by the window all this time, finally moved.
He did not even issue a single instruction to anyone on the bridge.
He simply took one step forward.
With that one step, he passed straight through the bridge's floor-to-ceiling window, made from a special material, and appeared atop the Leviathan's fearsome beast-shaped prow.
The sea breeze sent his spotless Justice Coat snapping in the wind.
He stood alone at the bow, facing the hundreds of crazed pirates bearing down on him like fiends from hell.
His figure looked so small against the immense Leviathan.
Yet in the eyes of every Marine on the bridge, that figure was mightier and more dependable than the entire warship, than the sea, than the world itself.
"Wh-what's that?"
Aboard the Razor, Carlos also noticed the white figure that had suddenly appeared at the bow.
He narrowed his eyes and saw that it was an absurdly young Marine.
Then he burst into even more scornful laughter.
"Hahahaha! A brat who hasn't even grown any hair yet? This is the ship's captain? Has Marine Headquarters run out of men?"
"Hey! You little brat!"
Carlos pointed his spiked club at Yas and bellowed in a condescending, mocking tone.
"Kneel and beg for mercy now. Offer me your ship and all the women aboard, and I might consider leaving your corpse in one piece!"
But his only answer was Yas's utterly icy gaze and a murmur that seemed to rise from the deepest reaches of the underworld.
"Too weak."
Yas looked at the pirates, no different from ants in his eyes, and uttered a few words in utter boredom.
"You're not even worthy of my Three-Finger Nukite."
The next instant, under Carlos's suddenly frozen, disbelieving gaze, his figure vanished from the Leviathan's bow.
Before you continue