A rhythmic melody spread across the battlefield. Even amid the roar of combat, some fighters were unconsciously drawn into it, their movements slowing by a fraction.
That fraction was enough.
The Nightfall Pirates seized the openings instantly, striking with precision. Those who reacted quickly managed to block or dodge in time. The slower ones died on the spot.
Compared to the Marines, the Nightfall Pirates were already used to this. Music had always accompanied their time on Beast Island. Outside of combat training, they practiced music as well. As the crew's exclusive band, fighting was never their main role. Their training existed for self-preservation, not frontline slaughter.
The music was beautiful, but they did not lose themselves in it.
The melody, woven into the sounds of steel and screams, quickly captured the attention of the entire battlefield.
The camera shifted toward the young musicians. Liszt's fingers danced rapidly across the piano keys. Despite the chaos around him, his expression was calm, fully immersed in the performance.
This was the biggest stage in the world. A chance that might never come again.
During their year with the Nightfall Pirates, these once ordinary children had changed completely. Even a battlefield no longer shook them. People grew quickly. Now, they were pirates, members of the Nightfall Pirates, with nothing left to fear.
Some observers were stunned by the sheer audacity. Playing music in the middle of a battlefield was madness.
Others found themselves unwillingly absorbed, even as blood was spilled around them.
But many Marines felt only rage.
To them, the music was unbearable. Their comrades were dying, collapsing into pools of blood, and the enemy was performing as if this were entertainment. It felt like mockery. Like contempt.
"Go to hell, you arrogant bastards!" a Marine soldier roared as he charged toward the band.
His outburst ignited others. Marines surged forward, their fury directed at the musicians they saw as an insult incarnate.
The ordinary members of the Nightfall Pirates did not interfere. Instead, anticipation flickered in their eyes.
Surrounded by enemies, the band remained calm and continued playing. They trusted Liszt.
They knew his power. The Marines did not.
A musician who held the title of executive, who looked frail and harmless. Yet if he stood among the Nightfall Pirates, how weak could he truly be?
A few Marines who kept their heads watched uneasily. Something felt wrong. No one was stopping them. No one was panicking.
By the time they realized it, it was already too late.
Liszt was the only one who needed to act.
Even within the Nightfall Pirates, his abilities were considered mysterious. His background and identity were already known to the world, but his power was another matter entirely.
Those who had experienced it would never forget it.
Liszt's ability was wide-ranging and indiscriminate. Unless he focused on a single target, everyone within its domain was affected. Even allies had to endure its edge, though he deliberately weakened its impact around them.
None of them wanted to experience that tearing sensation again. That feeling of the mind being ripped apart.
Many crew members still feared Liszt. They had all suffered his mental shock before. Some took two full months to recover. The shadow it left never truly faded.
Teach's Conqueror's Haki crushed the will through pressure. Liszt's power was different. It lacked that overwhelming dominance, but its damage to the mind was far more severe.
Because of that, Teach strictly limited how often Liszt could use it.
Even Teach found the ability dangerous. As Liszt's physique improved, his mental endurance increased alongside it, allowing his mental power to grow at an alarming pace.
To prevent it from spiraling out of control, Liszt had to suppress its growth while strengthening his body. Even then, he could not fully restrain it.
That was the nature of his Devil Fruit.
Over time, his mental power would only become more terrifying.
Finally, Liszt made his move.
Without breaking rhythm, he glanced toward the approaching Marines.
A tangible, eerie gray mental force erupted from his body, bypassing the other performers completely. His hands never stopped moving across the keys.
Gray mist flooded the air, spreading outward and transforming into a violent mental storm. Within it, ghostly wails and wolf-like howls echoed, shrill and piercing.
Marines collapsed one after another, screaming as they clutched their heads.
In just three seconds, every Marine within range fell.
Their bodies went still. Their expressions remained frozen in agony. No wounds. No movement. Just cold, lifeless forms.
Silence followed.
All the Marines caught in the storm were dead.
The Nightfall Pirates swallowed nervously. Even knowing the result, the sight never failed to unsettle them.
Teach's words echoed in their minds. Those killed by Liszt did not die physically first. Their souls collapsed. Without a soul, the body was nothing more than an empty shell.
Across the battlefield, powerful figures stiffened.
A mental-type Devil Fruit user. And an extremely dangerous one.
Liszt had crossed into a category that demanded absolute caution.
Katakuri narrowed his eyes. The scene reminded him of his mother, Big Mom. The effect was similar to those whose lives she took.
But there was a difference.
Big Mom seized the soul and lifespan together, leaving behind dried husks or dust. Liszt shattered the soul itself.
Among those Marines were over a hundred elites, including Commodores. None of them lasted longer than three seconds.
Dressed neatly, standing behind a piano, Liszt looked like a devil wearing human skin.
After that, no Marine dared approach the band again.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, officers continued to fall. Generals. Commodores. Rear Admirals.
At Marine Headquarters, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Faces were dark as they watched the live feed. Every fallen soldier was one of their own. Many were valuable mid-level officers cultivated with immense resources.
"We can't let this continue," Sengoku said grimly. "At this rate, they'll be wiped out."
As Fleet Admiral, Sengoku embodied absolute rationality. He suppressed his anger and made a decision.
His Buddha form carried a sense of divinity, a clarity that allowed him to weigh outcomes coldly.
Sengoku understood right and wrong. But he was a Marine first.
For the sake of the World Government, he had made decisions he knew were wrong. Ohara. The eradication of pregnant women in the South Blue. He knew the cruelty of it. He still gave the orders.
Because in his mind, only the final result mattered.
He opened his Transponder Snail. "Borsalino, move now. Teach and Redyat aren't present. We can't afford to lose all of them."
These Rear Admirals and Commodores were irreplaceable assets.
"Oh my," Borsalino's lazy voice came through. "Are you sure? That's a lot of pressure. These are monsters."
"I know," Sengoku replied.
"And what about the other pirates? You think they'll stay out of it?"
"They won't," Sengoku said firmly. Then he added, "No matter the outcome, you get three days off when you return."
There was a pause.
"Alright," Borsalino said cheerfully, and hung up.
The officers around Sengoku were left speechless.
Golden light streaked across the sky.
In an instant, it condensed on the battlefield, forming Borsalino's figure. His arrival immediately drew attention.
"It's Vice Admiral Borsalino!"
Marine morale surged. Hope flared. Against the overwhelming strength of the Nightfall Pirates, his presence felt like salvation.
"I really don't want to fight," Borsalino said casually, hands in his pockets. "But could you do me a favor and spare my colleagues?"
A blood-red flash cut through the air.
Laffitte appeared before him, smiling politely. His cane sword dripped with blood, and the stench around him spoke of countless deaths.
"I'm afraid not," Laffitte said softly. "The captain has decided. Every Marine who set foot on this island stays here. You wouldn't want to join them, would you?"
"Oh?" Borsalino smiled, light already gathering around him.
Executives moved.
Pouf descended, butterfly wings spreading behind him, his clothes pristine.
Van Augur raised his gun. Borsalino felt a chill crawl up his spine.
From Liszt's body, massive mental tentacles extended, stretching hundreds of meters and splitting into three. Ghost-like fluctuations rolled off them, forcing even Borsalino to focus.
Nelson rose into the air using Moonwalk, sword in hand, eyes locked onto his target.
In an instant, Borsalino was surrounded by five Nightfall Pirate executives.
For the first time, his expression turned serious.
Liszt's mental attacks were dangerous. Van Augur's bullets were deadly. But the one he feared most was Nelson.
Nelson's ability could not be blocked. Not by Haki. Not by instinct.
Spatial power that appeared without warning.
Even Observation Haki struggled to sense it.
And that made him the most troublesome opponent of all.