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The objects hanging from the mast swayed in the wind.
At first, they were only two blurred outlines. As the distance closed, they gradually took on human shapes.
Blood ran down the mast, tracing several dark streaks across the golden hull.
The sea breeze carried over the bloody stench, mingled with gunpowder smoke and the briny bitterness of seawater, into his nostrils.
At the front of the fleet, the ordinary-looking man tightened his grip on his blade.
He recognized those presences-faint and intermittent, like candles guttering in the wind, but unmistakably Fourth and Fifth.
Impossible.
He suppressed the thought the instant it surfaced.
The five of them had long since tempered their Haki until it was as tough as iron and steel. On these seas, unless they ran into those few true monsters, even encirclement would not stop them from holding out for days and finding a chance to escape.
But now...
"Ballistae!"
His voice was not loud, yet the cacophony of orders around him stopped instantly. "Aim at the mast."
As the order went out, yellow-green liquid continued pouring over the gunwales.
The sea seemed to boil, churning up great swaths of white foam.
Dead fish and shrimp floated to the surface, followed by larger shadows-sea beasts dozens of yards long writhed in agony, stirring the seawater into muddy whirlpools.
Cannon fire sounded right on cue. Amid the thunder, the struggling beasts gradually stopped moving.
Naval warfare followed a different set of rules.
Here, one expert skilled in the water could rival an entire legendary fleet.
Especially when the enemy ranks included those Devil Fruit users who could not swim. Once they fell into the water, death was their only destination.
Hence these methods: poison and filth, turning the ocean into a graveyard.
As for any ridiculous talk