Chapter 32

He spoke, his voice quiet but carrying through the gaps in the cannon fire. "We'll need to find someone who really understands cannons."

No matter how agile an individual was, they seemed insignificant before such sweeping volleys of steel and flame.

Watching the black dots trace arcs through the air, he silently added: Someone who could give us this same "language"

to speak.

This was what naval battles usually looked like.

Those who operated ranged weapons normally held crucial positions aboard a ship-like the long-nosed young man on that famous sailing ship in the future.

But that ship's lineup was far too extraordinary. Its three core members had started out as powerful fighters with bounties exceeding thirty million, and kicking projectiles out of the air or slicing ** apart came as naturally to them as breathing.

Not to mention their captain, whose rubberlike body-no, it should now be called the Sun God's power-was enough to block entire barrages of incoming cannon fire.

That left the ship's ranged attacker with almost no opportunity to shine.

On an ordinary ship, that long-nosed fellow who could hit every target with precision would undoubtedly have been a decisive force in naval combat.

"A gunner is indispensable."

Doflamingo agreed, but excellent gunners were hard to come by. They could only leave it to chance.

Who in the Donquixote Family was good at that again? Wasn't it the man who could cause **? Rossi recalled that the man was meticulous, even somewhat cold, but his loyalty to Doflamingo was beyond question.

Only... where was he now?

Never mind. They would meet when the time came.

"Diamante, do you know any good gunners?"

"Hey! We made a name for ourselves in Spandamruze with swords alone. Cannons and things like that..."

"Got it. You don't."

That figured.

At present, Trebol and the others were merely local toughs operating around town. They had never even sailed far from shore, so how could they know any formidable figures? In theory, Trebol's sticky ability could indeed block **.

Unfortunately, that ability was extremely vulnerable to fire. Ordinary ** were manageable, but if he encountered **, he would be the first to turn into a ball of fire.

Aside from using mucus to create the illusion of "elemental transformation"

to bluff people, his strength and development of his Devil Fruit... really weren't much to speak of.

Even that candle Devil Fruit user had more potential than him!

"Diamante, have you ever thought about competing for the title of World's Greatest Swordsman?"

"Well... I do think I'm fairly talented, but the world's greatest..."

Stunned by this sudden, grand ambition, Diamante's hesitation this time was genuine, rather than his usual exaggerated performance.

"How spineless!"

Watching the battle, Rossi folded his arms and turned down the corners of his mouth.

On these seas, what difference was there between someone who had lost their dreams and a salted fish?

"Then... Rossi,"

Diamante shifted the conversation. After fighting together, he could sense that the faint distance the other boy kept had diminished considerably. Otherwise, he wouldn't have brought up something like dreams. "What's your goal, or rather, your dream?"

That was indeed the case.

Knowing the course of the future, Rossi had always subconsciously maintained a barely perceptible barrier between himself and Trebolmante and Trebol.

The salty sea breeze swept across the deck, blowing the loose hair over the boy's forehead back toward his ears.

He spread his arms toward the boundless deep blue, as though embracing the entire horizon.

A teasing question came from behind him. He didn't turn around, but his voice carried clearly through the wind.

"I want to become someone no one can shake."

Not the strongest in a particular field, nor the holder of some title.

His goal was more thorough, more absolute.

It required crossing a mountain that had stood at the world's summit for eight centuries, and confronting the shadow that dwelled above the clouds, concealed behind layers of mist.

Only then could he touch that word's true meaning.

"Heh... that's not a wish you can voice lightly."

Sanji, his elder brother, gave a low chuckle. He understood the unspoken direction those words pointed toward.

Their companion on the other side merely blinked, his face a mixture of confusion and an excitement stirred by that imposing spirit.

"An admirable ambition! But how much better it would be if that spirit were directed elsewhere."

A deep voice sounded behind them.

At some point, the tall man in a Marine uniform had approached, holding a freshly lit pipe whose embers flickered in the dim light.

At the sound, their sword-wearing companion immediately turned sideways, his fingers settling silently on the hilt at his waist.

The boy turned as well, looking up at the Marine ** who towered over him.

His gaze never wavered. "Mr. Anderson, what makes you so sure I'm not on the right path?"

He raised a hand and pointed toward the stern, where several ships flying seagull flags were cutting through the waves in pursuit. "Did I leave any evidence of breaking the law in that town? Right now-"

"Is that ship firing on us also flying the flag of justice?"

Before the burly ** could speak, the boy answered for him.

"They're only after the Beli the Jiedi Family put on our heads."

"And does the Jedi Family itself have even the slightest connection to justice?"

The second question silenced the man wearing the Marine coat.

Of course he knew about that family's dealings in the shadows-** labor, human trafficking, using violence to push ordinary people into a living hell... that man known as "Big Bucks"

Thompson had ** liquid soaked into every crease of his fingertips.

"Young man, you have no idea how this world works-"

"I do."

Roman raised a hand, cutting Lieutenant Commander Anderson off.

"You're an isolated pawn the Marines stationed in Spandamruze, ostracized by all the local powers.

Even with your strength, there are many things you can only turn a blind eye to."

This ** was responsible for both training and supervision, yet everyone aboard the Gear had tacitly shut him out.

Even the sharpest blade needed a sheath to protect it, and even the strongest person had ties they had to protect.

"But we're different!"

The boy stepped onto the edge of the gunwale, the sea breeze lifting the loose hair over his forehead.

"We can wipe out the Jedi Family and turn Spandamruze into a place where ordinary people can live in peace.

And you, Mr. Anderson? Are you going to keep standing here watching?"

Having said that, Rossi shot Doffy a look.

If they didn't act soon, the Gear would very likely be no match for the warship steadily closing in behind them.

"I'll leave things here to you."

Before his words had faded, he vaulted over the gunwale.

His body fell through the air, the sea rapidly filling his vision.

Just before he touched that blue expanse that spelled the end for a Devil Fruit user, some sky-blue gelatinous substance suddenly surged from beneath the water. Like a strangely colored flower abruptly blooming, it gently enveloped his falling figure.

"...What should I do?"

The scar-faced ** murmured to himself, then let out a heavy breath.

There were too many injustices in this world that he couldn't interfere with as a Marine-Thompson, who posed as a factory owner; the mayor, who colluded with the Jedi Family; the royal family, who tacitly permitted it all; and above them... those beings who dwelled above the clouds.

Against the powerful elites entrenched throughout the world, what could strength alone change?

Beneath the sea, a large mass of sky-blue mucus writhed silently, curving around toward the warship's rear.

While the Gear and the Pinta held their attention, Ro** hid within the vessel created by Trebol's ability and quietly approached the target.

"Hey, Trebol."

A muffled voice came from inside the mucus.

Within the hollow space held open by the viscous substance, Rossi pressed his palm against the warm, soft creation surrounding him.

"At this speed, even a sea turtle could easily overtake us, couldn't it?"

If this thing didn't move so slowly, why would he have needed to risk jumping down from the air when they dealt with that gear ship earlier?

"Behehe... just getting close without anyone noticing is hard enough."

A head wearing round sunglasses emerged from the mucus and suddenly thrust itself in front of Rossi. The clear fluid hanging from its nose nearly splashed onto his cheek.

"Why don't you try swimming over yourself?"

"Too bad you're just like me. Touch seawater, and you go weak all over-"

"Back off."

Although Rossi knew that mucus was merely a product of the ability, his body still leaned backward instinctively.

"I'll get closer if I want. What are you going to do, huh, huh-"

What was this supposed to be?

When they first met, those four had been fairly restrained.

After several battles together, they could no longer hide their true natures.

The transparent mucus swaying beside him made Rossi raise a hand and press his temple.

"Stay concealed. Don't give us away."

"Behehe, don't worry. Normally I can disguise mucus as my body, so disguising it as seawater is naturally no problem!"

"All right. Hand me the things first."

Seawater only weakened Devil Fruit users themselves; it didn't erase abilities they had already used.

Boats made of candle wax could sail across the sea, frost could freeze the waves, and someone could even make an entire stretch of sea float into the air. If seawater really could dissolve creations made by abilities, why would the Marines bother hunting Devil Fruit users down? They would only need enough water guns to subdue them all with ease.

And although this mucus feared fire, it wasn't afraid of water at all.

The hollow space held open by the viscous substance contained enough air.

The two of them quietly approached the constantly firing "Lever" from underwater

and before long, the rough grain of its wooden hull was within reach.

Gurgle-

The seawater beneath the ship suddenly churned upward, spreading up its sides as though alive.

The mucus climbed silently, gently lifting a figure to the edge of the gunwale.

Tap.

"Everyone, look over here."

The sailors cleaning the cannon barrels and loading ** on deck, along with the "Lever's"

leader and officers, who had been staring intently into the distance, all turned to look.

A blond-haired boy crouched on the gunwale.

"I'm here to end this fight."

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

He wore sunglasses. Several metal cylinders rolled from his open palm, bouncing and scattering across the deck-an ominous premonition instantly gripped everyone's heart!

"Get him!"

"Take him out-"

The upheaval on deck came without warning.

The instant Sanji appeared, the sailors instinctively lunged forward—blades and gun muzzles traced chaotic arcs through the gloom, converging on the child standing alone.

Light exploded.

It didn't brighten gradually. It was a sudden eruption of white that swallowed every outline and shadow.

The deck became a blinding blank, followed immediately by sound-as though a massive hammer had struck their eardrums. Waves of vibration swept across the planks, making even the air tremble.

Rossi shut his eyes, but his vision behind the sunglasses was still stained crimson.

The impact sent him staggering backward, but a damp, sticky sensation surged beneath his feet in time to hold him in place.

He heard himself shout a name:

"Trebol-"

After the white light and Sound Waves swept past, very few figures remained standing on deck.

Several unusually brawny sailors and the man in the tricorn hat still swayed, like masts left standing in a storm.

That was when the mucus spread.

It sprayed from behind Rossi, swiftly covering the wooden deck and sticking the fallen men firmly in place.

Translucent tendrils reached toward the few who remained conscious, winding around them and tightening like vines rising from a swamp.

A blade severed one tentacle, splashing gelatinous fluid from the cut.

But more mucus kept coming, gradually enveloping the resisting men's limbs and torsos until their last struggles were swallowed up.

"Behehehe..."

The source of the mucus rose beside the gunwale, supporting a bloated body.

That voice carried a sticky amusement, especially clear in the silence.

"If you can't move, stop wasting your strength."

Rossi didn't answer. He merely hopped lightly down from the gunwale.