"Haha! They actually pulled it off." Rayleigh couldn't help but laugh on the Sabaody Archipelago.
"Mm~ that guy sure has guts," Shakky said with a faint smile.
Even if the Marines wanted to stop such a massacre, they couldn't. Too many news outlets were broadcasting live, and the Marines' control over the Four Seas was weak, their real strength was still tied up in the first half of the Grand Line.
The surviving Marines ran frantically toward the coast. When the silhouettes of Marine warships appeared in the distance, a faint spark of hope lit in their eyes.
But it was short-lived.
In less than an hour, over half their forces were dead or wounded. Trapped in a pincer attack, the remaining Marines could only flee running faster and faster, as if sheer speed might buy them another minute of life.
It took only one clean strike to end a life. In the chaos of that crowded retreat, Marines fell one after another—some tripped, others were cut down mid-step. If they hesitated for even a heartbeat, a blade flashed from behind.
Despite their numbers, the Nightfall Pirates, barely two hundred strong, were cutting through them like a storm. Their elites were carving a path of slaughter. Most of the Marines who died never even saw their killers' faces.
"H-how could this be…?" A Marine stumbled to the beach, gasping, and froze. His eyes widened in despair.
The flags flying from the warships were not the symbol of justice, they were the black banners of the Nightfall Pirates.
Their last hope had already been taken from them.
Each warship floated about thirty meters offshore, lined up like executioners waiting for the signal.
"Oh no! Run!" someone shouted in horror. The muzzles of twenty Marine warships were all aimed at the beach.
"Run? Where can we run to?" another Marine said hollowly. Between the pirates before them and the cannons behind, there was nowhere left. Their final hope had twisted into pure despair. Many simply dropped their weapons, eyes glazed, waiting for the inevitable.
Behind those warships, the Lucky Goddess, Teach's flagship, rested like a queen overseeing her court. Forty crew members, two assigned to each captured vessel, stood ready to ensure no Marine would ever reclaim them.
When the surviving Marines drew close, a sharp voice rang out:
"Everyone... open fire!"
At the bow of one warship stood Baccarat, now dressed in a pristine white suit with a Marine cloak of justice draped over her shoulders. From afar, she looked every bit the image of an admiral.
To the Marines, it was a cruel mockery.
Even worse, through the live feed, the world saw that the pirates manning the warships were all dressed in Marine sailor uniforms.
The order was given, and a deafening chorus of boom, boom, boom followed.
Dozens of cannonballs roared toward the shore. The Nightfall Pirates stood far enough back to watch safely as explosions tore through the coastline. The scene was nothing short of apocalyptic, waves of fire, smoke, and shrapnel consuming everything in sight.
For those watching the broadcast, it was a sight that burned itself into memory. They had seen war before but never the Marines being annihilated by their own firepower.
Each warship carried enough ammunition to bombard for half a day. Thousands of shells rained down for ten relentless minutes. The earth shook. The sea foamed. Smoke, blood, and gunpowder blended into a choking haze.
Even the pirates watching from safety could only swallow hard.
If those cannons had been aimed at them instead… they would have been wiped out in moments. The spectacle drove home just how terrifying Marine firepower truly was.
"Why haven't you killed me yet?" groaned Williams, a Marine Colonel. His voice was hoarse with pain. His remaining arm and both legs had been shattered so he couldn't resist. Teach dragged him by the neck, his boots grinding through blood-soaked sand.
The thunder of cannon fire echoed around them.
Williams's eyes lit with desperate hope. "Hahaha! Teach, your crew's finished! Hear that? That's Marine artillery! Your pirates are dead by now!"
His laugh was manic, bordering on madness. After watching all his comrades fall and surviving only to suffer humiliation and pain, his mind was breaking apart. Now, clinging to that sound, he found a twisted joy.
Millions across the world watched in silence. Many pitied the broken Marine, he still didn't understand what was happening.
Teach's grin widened. "Zehahaha! Then take a good look. See for yourself if things are really how you imagine."
This wasn't mercy, it was cruelty. He wanted Williams to witness it all. The slaughter. The despair. The birth of Nightfall's legend.
The bombardment rolled on until the landscape itself had changed, blackened craters, smoking ruins, and bodies buried under rubble. When the last shell fell silent, the coast was nothing but devastation.
Teach spread his arms, laughing wildly. "Zehahahahaha! Look around you, Marine. Is this the world you imagined?"
Williams stood frozen, eyes vacant. "No… impossible… this can't be…"
The air was heavy with blood and smoke. Teach inhaled deeply. For a moment, even he felt detached from himself, as though seeing the man he truly was for the first time.
Something inside him had taken root and bloomed. Call it evil, call it freedom—it didn't matter. What mattered was the feeling of doing whatever he pleased.
For the first time in two lives, Teach felt truly alive.
In his past life, the law had caged him. In this world, strength ruled all. For years he had hidden among the Whitebeard Pirates, suppressing every instinct.
Now, the restraints were gone.
If this had happened earlier, perhaps he might have spared the defeated Marines. But not anymore. This was the Grand Line—a world of survival, not mercy.
And through the countless hidden feeds, the entire world now bore witness to the rise of the Nightfall Pirates.
After the final barrage, fewer than one in ten Marines were still breathing and barely one percent could still fight.
"Brothers," Teach said at last, his voice calm again. "Let's finish this."
At his command, the crew surged forward to clean up the last survivors.
"What a pity," Teach said softly, glancing at the broken Williams. "I was going to let you die last. Didn't think your mind would snap so soon."
The pirates nearby couldn't help but twitch at that. Dying last, watching everyone else perish first, wasn't mercy; it was torment. Calling the man weak for breaking first was peak malice.
Teach drew the silver pistol at his waist and pressed it to Williams's head.
Bang.
The Marine's body went limp, collapsing into the dirt. On his face was a faint smile—relief, at last.
Despite their overwhelming victory, the Nightfall Pirates hadn't escaped unscathed. Twenty-seven of their own had fallen. For a crew of barely two hundred, it was a heavy blow but against tens of thousands of Marines, the result was nothing short of miraculous.
If Teach and his top officers hadn't wiped out twenty-three Marine Colonels early in the battle, shattering the enemy's morale, the fight would have dragged on far longer and cost them dearly.
When it was over, they gathered the bodies of their fallen crewmates into sacks. No one would be left behind. Burial would come later.
The world watched in silence through the live feed. No one dared turn it off.
"Baccarat," Teach said, looking her up and down with amusement, "that uniform really suits you."
"Haha, I think so too. Maybe I'll wear it from time to time," she replied, striking a pose.
"Hmm, it actually looks good on all of us," Nelson said, leaping down from a warship in his white Marine suit and cloak. "What do you say we all wear them and take a picture? A nice souvenir!"
"That's a fun idea but won't it piss off the Marines?" Wallace asked, grinning.
Teach burst out laughing. "Zehahaha! Offend them? We've already crossed that line! Hell, I'd love to see the looks on their faces. Imagine Whitebeard, Shanks, Kaido, all in Marine uniforms! Zehahahaha!"
It wasn't just a joke. Across the world, artists and meme-makers were already sketching that very scene.
At Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral Sengoku slammed his fists on the desk, face red with fury.
"What do they think the Marines are, a joke?! That uniform isn't just clothing! It's our honor! Damn those pirates!"
He turned to the officers. "Inform Brom. Forget the other pirates for now. The Nightfall Pirates must be crushed first! Their arrogance has gone too far!"
Vice Admiral Tsuru quietly poured a glass of water and set it in front of him. Her calm eyes stayed on the screen. In all her years, she had never seen a pirate crew this brazen.
Not just Teach, every one of his men carried that same fearless defiance.
Meanwhile, the world buzzed with excitement. One artist in particular was already working feverishly. Months later, his painting—Light of Justice—would sell at auction for four hundred million Berries.
On the coast, the crew changed clothes. There were enough Marine uniforms from the captured ships for everyone. Far from killing the suspense, this short intermission only made the live audience more eager.
At last, Teach and his men emerged, each dressed in white suits. The officers stood at the front; the rest wore sailor uniforms. They looked like a twisted parody of the Marines themselves.
"Who's taking the picture?" Baccarat asked, glancing around.
"Already arranged," Teach said, smiling as he looked up toward the cliffs. "Come on out."
To everyone's surprise, a man crawled out from a patch of reeds near the waterline. Through the aerial feed, the audience could see him clearly, a reporter, half-submerged in seawater, camera clutched tight.
Gasps rippled through the viewers. He'd been hiding there the whole time, right beside the battlefield.
Kappa, the reporter, looked nervous but walked forward quickly, bowing his head. "How… how can I help you?"
"Take a picture for us. Make it a good one," Wallace said with arms crossed. "If it's bad, you know what happens."
"Yes, yes!" Kappa stammered. His heart pounded, but not from fear, this was the chance of a lifetime. If he pulled this off, his name would be known worldwide.
Teach's crew spread out across the ships and shore, some standing, some lounging casually. Kappa adjusted his camera, muttering pointers to improve composition.
After a moment, he frowned, then looked up. "Lord Teach… I think it's missing something. Maybe… a slogan? Something powerful for the picture?"
He waited, tense, as every camera around the world focused on the man who would soon shake it to its core.