The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History

Chapter 565 - 84: The Sword Above Fish-Man Island

The Roger Pirates fled with practiced speed—proof that hasty retreats were nothing new. ic force, howled through the sky and erased the thousand meters between them.

"I’ve got it!"

A lithe figure vaulted to the prow—black hair tied into a high ponytail beneath a bandana—twin battleaxes crossed as he met the onrushing sword without a flicker of fear.

Boom!

The impact hit like a Buster Call warship ramming full speed. Gaban’s lids fluttered as he skidded back ten meters, boots carving lines into the planks.

The shockwave rolled outward, rocking the ship and nearly pitching men overboard.

Now they could see what he had stopped:

A sword.

The Meito of the Great Pirate Golden Lion Shiki.

Shanks and Buggy gasped together. How could a man that wounded still wield such terrifying force?

Cold sweat slid down Gaban’s temple. His lips thinned; pins and needles prickled the webs between thumb and forefinger.

"Not bad—for the Roger Pirates’ third-in-command."

Before anyone could breathe, the voice cut through again, colder still.

"Second strike."

Whoosh.

Another blade of light ripped across the sea, leaving a wake of withering silence in its passage.

Kogarashi—Shiki’s other Meito.

"Damn it," Rayleigh hissed, steel whispering free. His silver blade snapped up, trailing crimson-black lightning as it crossed the incoming arc.

Clang!

Sparks burst. His sword flicked Kogarashi’s strike aside.

He landed hard, teeth gritted. "Use it now! Don’t drag this out!"

The crew froze. It was the first time they’d seen their unflappable vice-captain so taut with urgency.

A breath later, they understood.

An oppressive, icy dread fell like a lid. Air thickened; time seemed to stall.

Men locked where they stood, color draining from their faces.

"W-wait... no way..." Shanks croaked, raising his head by inches.

"That maniac—he’s gonna kill us all!" Buggy shrieked, clutching at his head.

One by one, eyes climbed to the sky. Blood ran cold.

Reflected in their tightening pupils was a colossal obsidian blade, its surface breathing eerie violet flame. It hung over Fish-Man Island with its point aimed straight at them—

—like the sword of Damocles, suspended judgment between life and death.

"Shoot them down..." Oden’s face went chalk white.

"...Enma."

To be continued...