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But this was the East Blue, the backyard Vice Admiral Garp casually swept clean during his vacations.
Where the hero regularly patrolled, only a few small fry remained, hopping about on borrowed luck.
In barren times, mediocrities became kings.
Several days later, wind and waves drove the warship across the sea.
The little wooden boat hung beside the hull, rising and falling with the waves.
Luffy and Zoro stood at the edge of the deck, looking past the rolling swells.
In the distance, three masts pierced the horizon.
A huge wooden cat figurehead adorned the prow, its wide-open eyes facing them.
A black flag snapped atop the mast, its emblem appearing and disappearing in the wind.
"Look at that cat face."
Luffy rose onto his toes, holding a hand above his brow. "That thing's huge."
Ensign Morgan's roar came from the bridge.
A flurry of footsteps immediately filled the deck.
Soldiers carrying long-barreled guns wove between ropes and gun carriages, whose wheels rumbled dully over the planks.
Every movement was swift and orderly, like machinery drilled countless times.
The cannon muzzles spat fire one after another.
White smoke instantly swallowed half the ship, the acrid smell of sulfur mingling with the sea breeze.
More than twenty iron balls tore through the air, their shrill whistles piercing the eardrums.
The cannonballs struck the sea between the two ships, blasting up an uneven row of water columns that crashed down like a brief downpour.
Hitting a moving target in such rough seas required experienced gunners.
Ordinary soldiers could only rely on numbers and luck-hoping one shot would break the enemy's mast and slow their ship, then gradually batter it into sinking with cannonballs.
Such chases usually lasted a long time, from daylight into darkness, then through the night until dawn.
"What