Zeal Sea.
Chain Ball Island.
A medium-sized island shaped exactly like its name a round main body with a thin strip of land stretching outward like a chain, barely ten meters wide. Few buildings stood there; most of it had been turned into a long, narrow dock.
Now, the entire "chain" was burning. Flames raged skyward, the air thick with smoke and ash. Along the coast, shattered hulls and wrecked masts bobbed in the waves.
"Looks like we're late."
From a distance offshore, Ron held a telescope to his eye. The flames reflected in the lenses as his brow furrowed slightly.
But after a moment, he shook his head. "Not by much. Judging by how the fire's burning, it's only been half a day at most."
As their small ship drifted closer, faint booms began to carry over the water sporadic cannon fire, muffled explosions. The nearer they came, the clearer it grew.
Nami, standing at the helm beside him, frowned as she peered toward the island. "It's a full-scale battle… not a small skirmish."
Ron nodded. "A battlefield, through and through."
Nami circled the burning dock, steering the boat along the island's edge until they rounded to the opposite shore. There, her eyes widened slightly two dozen ships scattered across the beaches, many badly damaged.
Among them were several Marine warships.
"Looks like the naval battle's over," Ron murmured, narrowing his eyes. "They've taken it to land."
From this distance, he could already hear it clearly the clash of steel, the thunder of guns echoing across the island.
Nami eyed the grounded ships, lips curving into a sly grin. "Lucky us. All those pirate ships just sitting there... we won't even have to fight to collect the treasure."
Ron chuckled quietly, amusement flickering in his eyes.
They anchored their small craft in a hidden cove and stepped onto the beach.
From the wreckage, it was easy to see what had happened four small Marine ships and one medium warship had faced more than twenty pirate vessels. The outcome was obvious.
Few bodies remained aboard the Marine ships. The sailors had likely fought while retreating, taking shelter inland. The pirates must have pursued.
"Who goes there?!"
A shout snapped through the air.
A dozen pirates, left behind to guard the wreckage, spotted the pair approaching. They raised rifles, wary.
Ron didn't answer.
He lifted his hand slightly. The Elven Wand floated down from his back into his grip.
The air split.
Blades of wind hissed across the beach, flashing faster than gunfire. The pirates barely had time to gasp before collapsing where they stood.
To Ron now, even bullets meant nothing. With his speed and precision, he could unleash Wind Blades nearly instantaneously and even if a shot came first, his spell could cut the bullet itself midair.
Spirit sharpened the mind beyond human limits. He saw distance, trajectory, and timing with perfect clarity.
Moments later, the beach fell silent again.
The pirates lay motionless, the sand darkening beneath them.
"Done."
He turned, brushing a fleck of ash from his sleeve. "Nami, stay here. Gather whatever treasure you can find. If more pirates come, hide. I'll take a look inland."
Nami tilted her head, but nodded. "Got it. Be careful, it sounds pretty bad in there."
Ron smiled. "Don't worry."
Then he was gone, striding toward the smoke that marked the center of the battle.
On the island…
Half the town had turned into a warzone. The stench of smoke and gunpowder filled the air.
"Still planning to resist?"
A voice thick with arrogance boomed across the street.
Standing amidst the chaos was Admiral Krieg, the iron-plated tyrant himself, golden armor gleaming through soot and flame. His grin radiated domination.
Across from him, about five hundred men a combined force of Marines and soldiers wearing the colors of a small kingdom fought desperately to hold their crumbling line.
Krieg's army outnumbered them four to one. Nearly two thousand pirates, surging forward like a tide.
"Damn you… damn Krieg's pirates!"
A broad-shouldered officer in battered armor, one of the kingdom's guard captains, snarled through blood and sweat. His troops were from the Gelt Kingdom, a small nation that had secretly purchased weapons from the Donquixote family to strengthen its army.
To ensure the deal went smoothly, they had even bribed two nearby Marine branches to provide covert escort.
And yet, everything had gone to hell.
No sooner had the Donquixote brokers departed than Krieg's fleet descended like vultures, ambushing them before they could even unload the cargo.
The Marines' ships had been sunk one by one in a brutal naval battle, and now the survivors had fled inland, dragging the Gelt soldiers with them.
"Damn it…"
The Marine commander a colonel, ground his teeth as the tide of pirates pressed closer. If the headquarters ever learned that a Marine fleet had been secretly guarding an illegal weapons deal, he was finished. But retreating meant the same.
Caught between disgrace and death, all he could do was fight.
The civilians trapped on the island could only watch in horror. They knew nothing of the weapons or the deal only that pirates had come, and the Marines were losing.
The docks were gone. Every ship burned. There was no escape.
Panic spread through the streets like the fire itself.
Even the best-case scenario meant looting and slavery. The worst massacre.
And still the battle raged.
Under Krieg's command, the pirates roared and charged, crashing into the defenders with renewed fury. The final defense line, already thin as paper buckled, then broke.
The war had come to Chain Ball Island.
And amidst the blood and fire, a new storm was approaching, one born not of greed or power, but magic.
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