The sea was kind to us for a few days.
Gentle winds filled the sails. The sun shone bright. Even the waters shimmered with a strange, almost eerie calm.
But calm never lasted long in the Grand Line.
We gathered on the deck one morning, the map and Log Pose spread out between us. Vargan leaned against the mast, arms folded, his glaive propped beside him. Riku sat cross-legged, sharpening one of his swords with careful, deliberate strokes.
"What's our next move, Captain?" Riku asked, his tone light but eyes sharp.
I still wasn't fully used to them calling me Captain. But after everything — surviving the cursed island, defeating Vargan, and building this small but deadly crew — the title felt more real by the day.
I tapped the map thoughtfully.
"There's a trade island a few days east," I said. "Big port. Supplies. Information."
"And trouble," Vargan added, flashing a toothy grin. "Places like that always bring trouble."
"Good," I said. "We could use some."
We all chuckled. Spirits were high.
Maybe too high.
Because just as I was rolling up the map, a sharp cry rang out from the crow's nest.
"Sail! Starboard!"
We rushed to the rail, squinting into the midday sun.
There — slicing through the waves like a knife — was a sleek, menacing ship. White sails emblazoned with a familiar symbol.
The Marine insignia.
At its prow stood a figure clad in an immaculate white coat, the seagull emblem of justice embroidered proudly across his back.
A Marine Captain.
And judging by the way their cannons were already swiveling toward us, they weren't here for a friendly chat.
Boom!
The first shot screamed past our hull, close enough that the spray soaked the deck.
"Battle stations!" I roared, already shifting into my Kirin form, golden scales flickering across my arms.
Riku leapt into action, barking orders and rallying the crew. Vargan grabbed the wheel, steering us into evasive maneuvers with surprising skill for a man who usually preferred breaking things to sailing them.
Another cannonball crashed into the water to our port side, sending up a geyser of foam.
"They're trying to box us in!" Riku shouted.
"We're faster!" Vargan growled. "We can outrun them!"
"No," I said, a plan already forming. "We're not running."
They blinked at me.
"We fight," I said, lightning crackling between my fingers.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then Riku grinned fiercely. "Finally."
Vargan just laughed, a deep, rumbling sound.
The enemy ship drew closer, Marines lining the rails with rifles and grappling hooks.
I vaulted onto the bowsprit, lightning swirling around me. My heart hammered in my chest — not from fear, but exhilaration.
This was why I came here.
Adventure. Battle. Freedom.
As the ships collided with a screech of timber and rope, I leapt across the gap, landing amidst the Marines with a blast of electrified air.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Riku and Vargan followed, blades flashing.
The deck became a battleground.
I danced through the Marines like a storm given flesh. Lightning arced from my fists, stunning groups of soldiers before they could even raise their rifles.
A pair of swordsmen rushed me. I ducked under one swing, grabbed the second by his coat, and hurled him into his comrade with a crackle of energy.
Riku moved like a shadow, his two swords weaving intricate patterns of death. Every swing was precise, every dodge calculated. He fought not just to kill, but to control the battlefield — keeping enemies off-balance, opening gaps for me and Vargan.
And Vargan — he was a force of nature.
His glaive spun and slashed with brutal efficiency, cleaving through Marine ranks like a scythe through wheat. Every blow sent shockwaves rattling through the deck.
But then he appeared.
The Marine Captain.
He moved through his own men like a phantom, untouched and untouchable. His uniform barely ruffled, his expression calm and cold.
He drew his weapon — a long, thin saber gleaming with deadly sharpness.
"Pirate scum," he said, voice like ice. "You dare attack the forces of justice?"
I faced him, electricity crackling along my shoulders.
"You shot first," I said. "Don't cry when you lose."
His eyes narrowed.
In a blur of motion, he lunged.
I barely dodged, feeling the wind of his blade pass my cheek. The deck splintered behind me from the force of his thrust.
Fast.
Faster than anyone I had fought yet.
I shifted fully, hooves striking the deck with a crack of thunder. Lightning sheathed my limbs, my form blazing with golden fire.
The Captain smiled thinly.
"A Mythical Zoan user. Rare," he said, almost admiringly. "But not unbeatable."
He came at me again, blade flashing.
Our clash was violent.
Saber against lightning-charged fists. Precision versus raw power.
He fought with a style that was almost beautiful — every movement fluid, every strike lethal. I answered with brute force and unpredictable surges of electricity, my blows sending shockwaves across the deck.
Neither of us gave ground.
Around us, the battle raged.
Riku dueled a squad of riflemen, blades moving so fast they blurred. He cut a path through them, angling to reach me.
Vargan had bulldozed a small contingent of Marines and now swung his glaive in wide arcs, keeping a defensive circle open.
But it was clear — we couldn't drag this out.
The Captain knew it too.
He shifted his stance, blade pointed downward, gathering energy. A strange aura radiated from him — a technique, something powerful.
"Justice Slash!" he roared, launching a crescent-shaped wave of compressed air directly at me.
Instinct took over.
I reared back, hooves slamming the deck, and unleashed a blast of golden lightning from my maw.
The two attacks collided midair.
The explosion rocked the entire ship, splintering masts and hurling men into the sea.
When the smoke cleared, both the Captain and I stood — battered, but alive.
Barely.
He coughed blood, staggering.
I advanced, every step shaking the deck.
"Yield," I said.
He spat to the side.
"I am justice," he snarled.
"So am I," I said simply — and with one final surge of lightning, struck him down.
He collapsed, unconscious.
The surviving Marines threw down their weapons, surrendering.
We stood victorious on the shattered remains of the Marine ship.
Riku whistled, impressed. "You're getting better at those speeches, Captain."
Vargan grinned, hoisting the Captain's saber as a trophy. "And at breaking things."
I chuckled, exhaustion weighing down my limbs. "Come on. Let's get out of here before more show up."
We stripped the Marine ship of supplies, weapons, and anything useful. Then, with a fond farewell, set it ablaze.
The flames roared into the sky, a signal visible for miles.
A warning.
A declaration.
We were here.
We were rising.
And we weren't afraid of anyone.
As our ship sailed eastward under a blood-red sunset, Riku leaned on the rail beside me.
"We're making enemies fast," he said, tone half-amused, half-worried.
"Good," I said. "Let them come."
Vargan laughed from the crow's nest, holding a spyglass to his eye.
"Besides," he called down, "we've got bigger fish to fry."
I turned to him. "What do you see?"
He lowered the spyglass, eyes glittering with excitement.
"An island," he said. "Big. Wild. And if I'm not mistaken — someone's already waiting for us."
I smiled, heart pounding with anticipation.
Good.
Adventure waited.
And we would meet it head-on.
Together.