Chapter 42

Diamante snatched the charcoal pencil first and puffed out his chest. "Back then, I was this close-just this close-to getting into the Art Academy."

Trebol snorted through his nose, mucus dripping with a splat as he moved.

Their posturing made Doffy's eyebrows rise behind his lenses.

Vergo had already turned his face away, while Pica had long since fixed his gaze on a crack beside his feet.

The scratching of charcoal against paper continued for about thirty minutes.

Doffy took off his sunglasses and rubbed hard between his brows.

He shrank into the shadows, his shoulders slumping.

Rossi picked up the two sheets of paper.

He looked at the one on the left first, his brows knotting tightly. "Diamante."

He paused, searching for the right words. "Your drawing... really packs a punch."

"Oh, stop!"

The swordsman waved a hand smugly. "Don't flatter me like that. You're embarrassing me."

No, Rossi objected inwardly.

I'm afraid that if we fly this flag, our enemies will laugh themselves to death before they even get close.

Wild blocks of color and twisted lines crowded the canvas, barely forming a shape that resembled neither quite a flower nor quite a face.

The face strained to bare its teeth and furrow its brows, but the strokes were as clumsy as a child's scribbles, turning menace into comedy.

He turned to the other sheet.

"Trebol."

Rossi spoke softly. "The Art Academy that rejected you must have been blind."

There was no sarcasm in that remark.

The picture contained nothing but a chaotic blot of ink, shades of gray and black churning together, with blurry water stains bleeding out around the edges.

He looked it over repeatedly before asking tentatively, "Is this... a barrel?"

"A mountain!!"

The slippery body lunged forward, almost knocking Rossi off balance.

Trebol hissed, jabbing a fingertip at the darkest tip of the ink blot. "It's a mountain peak piercing the clouds! Gods live at its summit-the sun always shines there!"

He snatched the drawing and flipped it around so the pointed end of the stain faced upward. "You're holding it upside down!"

Damp, hot breath and excited flecks of spit sprayed against Rossi's cheek.

Rossi set the inverted frame back on the table, and the scrawl, which barely resembled the outline of the Red Continent, made Doflamingo avert his gaze.

He took the two flags, and the crooked designs on the fabric briefly silenced even this normally composed young man.

If they flew emblems like these, they would probably become the laughingstock of the entire sea.

Applause rang out abruptly.

Doflamingo stood up and looked toward the starboard rail. "Six o'clock."

He raised his voice. "Ships approaching-all hands, prepare for battle!"

The argument over the flags was forcibly cut short.

Trebol and Diamante exchanged a disgruntled glance, then turned their attention to the increasingly distinct outline of the pirate ship. Their pent-up irritation needed a suitable outlet.

Raucous cheers erupted on the deck of the Toothed Shark.

"Boss! It's a fully loaded cargo ship!"

"Pull this off, and we can stay drunk for months-"

Pirates in ragged clothes clung to the rigging and rails, roaring toward the prey ahead.

Captain Clifford merely swept a cold gaze over his men.

They bared their chests, letting the sea wind buffet their stained skin, as though the word "expendable"

had been carved into their bones.

Neither their Navigator's calculations nor a stroke of luck had allowed this ship to track its target so precisely.

Someone had supplied intelligence.

Just as someone had once said-as long as the Family's core members remained alive, the people running those businesses on Spandamruze would not dare make any rash moves.

"Provided that 'we' continue to exist."

Rossi turned and explained to the companions gathering around him.

The sea breeze swept the loose hair from his forehead behind his ears. "I'm certain those ships behind us received information from Spandamruze.

"They probably know what cargo we're carrying and how many people are aboard better than we do."

If the Family's leaders perished at sea, the greed temporarily held in check would immediately awaken.

So Rossi showed no surprise when a second pirate ship appeared on the horizon off their flank.

For an ordinary merchant ship, this would undoubtedly have been a hopeless situation; for them, prepared in advance, it was merely another live combat exercise.

"They're seaborne bandits who live by plundering."

His steady voice carried through the wind. "We couldn't ask for better targets."

"All hands to your stations-ready the cannons."

Heavy cannon barrels were pushed onto the deck, their metal wheels rumbling over the planks.

These weapons already surpassed the enemy's in accuracy, and specially treated mineral powder had been mixed into the ** used to load them.

While the two ships were still accelerating in pursuit, a cloud of gray-white smoke suddenly rose from the merchant ship's deck ahead.

"Ha! They're firing already?"

"Hey, is this their first time aboard a ship?"

Laughter erupted on the pirate ship behind them.

The distance was still great, yet a cannonball had already torn through the air-boom! A column of water exploded ten meters ahead of the Toothed Shark's bow, drenching everyone on deck in salty seawater. The laughter stopped abruptly.

Captain Clifford narrowed his eyes.

The range exceeded his expectations.

"Full speed! Pull alongside them!"

Pirates had never liked cannon battles.

They struggled to obtain fine cannons and **, and their goal was never to sink their prey outright-leaping onto the enemy's deck and letting their blades do the talking was their way.

Both ships pressed forward in unison, continuing to close the distance through the scattered falling cannonballs.

"Looks like gunnery isn't something you can learn in a few days."

Despite their superior equipment, the pursuing ships kept drawing closer.

Partly because cannons in this era had limited power, and partly because the gunners truly were inexperienced.

"No rush. Take your time."

They had never expected anyone to suddenly become a master gunner anyway.

In the end, this sort of thing required repetition after repetition.

Time passed, and the ships behind them grew clear enough for the figures moving on their decks to become visible.

Some even raised long guns and fired toward them, their ** flying off to parts unknown.

"Behehe, this should be close enough-"

With only a few dozen meters left between the ships, Trebol rubbed his hands together.

Someone had offered advice on using that sticky Devil Fruit of his: throw it out to harry enemies at medium range.

"Adhesive Blob: Flying Hammer!"

A huge mass of gelatinous matter welled from his palm. He swung it overhead a few times, then hurled it.

The blob of mucus sailed through the air and landed with a splat in the middle of the opposing deck.

"What the hell is this?!"

"It's so sticky... pull me out!"

The pirates were startled at first, but soon discovered that the stuff was neither corrosive nor poisonous, just sticky enough to immobilize them.

Amid curses, their companions tugged several trapped men free in a flurry of hands.

"Three, two, one..."

Within the viscous liquid, a length of metal pipe suddenly swelled.

A wave of heat erupted from within, carrying the breath of utter destruction.

An explosion tore through the air.

Tongues of flame leaped up, licking the sky.

The flowing gel became the perfect fuse. Flames crawled along it, swallowing the entire deck in an instant.

The clothes of the pirates trapped in the mucus and the companions reaching out to pull them free caught fire at the same time.

Piercing screams erupted.

"It's burning-!"

"Water! Get water!"

"Don't move! Get down and roll!"

Human bodies became moving torches.

The urge to survive drove them charging wildly about, scattering sparks onto rigging, barrels, and piled supplies.

The fires joined into one great blaze, and the deck warped in the heat.

"Behehehe... first blood goes to me!"

Trebol's voice carried through the hot wind.

Rossi merely tilted his head without answering.

Whatever you say.

Clashing metal, roars, and dying cries mingled together.

Cannonballs were still falling.

The flames had yet to die out.

The ship flying a parrot-skull flag finally pulled alongside, its hull scraping against theirs with a shrill **.

But an even denser hail of bullets greeted them.

The other ship, flying a shark flag, quietly shortened sail and slowed over the final few dozen meters.

Let their "partners"

test the blade first.

"Arc Light."

Diamante leaped from the rail.

He raised his slender sword overhead in both hands and slashed downward with the force of his descent.

The blade sliced through the air with a piercing whistle.

Hiss-

A silver arc swept through the dense rigging.

Amid screams, seven or eight pirates swinging through the air plummeted.

Murky splashes burst across the sea.

Only a few severed ropes remained swaying in the air, half a hand still hanging from one end.

Gasps rose from the opposing deck.

That swordsman built like an iron tower... was he human?

"Squad! Aim at the tall one-"

The pirate officer had barely shouted his order before precise bursts of gunfire forced him back behind cover.

Arms woven from threads hovered behind Doflamingo.

Each of the four extra arms held a **. Together with his own two hands, six gun ** spat alternating flashes of fire.

The barrage wove a web of death.

Boom!

Pica simply hoisted a ** cannon into his arms.

A fan of iron shot blasted from its muzzle.

Planks burst apart on the opposing deck, and splinters mingled with iron pellets as they swept through the crowd.

A bloody mist spread.

This kind of ** could hardly ** powerful fighters, but it was lethal enough against ordinary sailors.

As they watched their companions fall in swathes, fewer and fewer men dared climb the rail.

What ended this charge, however, were two dark figures leaping in the opposite direction.

They kicked off the Donquixote's railing, arced through the air, and descended toward the pirate ship's ** deck.

"Vergo, watch your back-"

Rossi rolled as he landed, his blade already sweeping toward the nearest pirate's waist.

Amid the dull sound of tearing flesh, he kept moving, lunging straight toward the cabin.

The pirate clutched his abdomen and slowly sank to his knees, dark red seeping between his fingers.

"Kill them!"

The pirates on deck roared and closed in, their blades gleaming coldly in the dim daylight.

Though these desperadoes lacked technique, their last-ditch resistance carried a beastlike frenzy-to them, tearing a chunk of flesh from their opponent would be enough.

Unfortunately, sheer ferocity could not bridge the gap.

To Rossi, the pirate's full-force downward slash seemed as slow as a drifting dead leaf.

He drew a deep breath of briny air and brought his long blade up to meet it.

Clang!

The instant the shoddy blade shattered, fragments burst out like a torrential downpour.

Several sharp pieces of metal drove into nearby pirates' chests and necks. Before they could scream, they toppled one after another onto the deck soaked in filthy water.

On the other side, Vergo's blade traced an arc of light.

Severed limbs and beads of blood scattered through the damp wind, thick liquid splashing onto ropes and canvas.

"They're monsters... get out of the way!"

Blow after blow had already crushed the pirates' will to fight: first came the cannon fire, then sticky flames clung to the deck, and now even close-quarters boarding combat had become a one-sided slaughter.

Two boys had actually forced an entire ship's crew to retreat-someone shouted, "Run!"

The survivors scrambled into the depths of the ship, using the dim corridors to put up a desperate resistance.

Rossi narrowed his eyes at the suddenly deserted deck.

Giving up already?

Fine. This was what these hyenas of the sea were really like.

"Pull back."

He retreated to the ship's rail.

On the opposite ship, Doffy twitched his fingers. Two ropes reached across the gap between the ships like living snakes and coiled around their wrists.

A force hauled them back through the air, the wind sweeping past their ears carrying the mingled scents of gunpowder smoke and seaweed.

Landing back on their own deck, Rossi shook the rope off his wrist.

"Using strings to pull us over... this ability really is handy."

"Fufufu... I think so too,"

Doffy's lips curled upward. "No Devil Fruit could suit me better."

The Flintlock Pistol slipped into the leather holster at his waist, and the arm woven from strings unraveled with it.