The entire weapon was caked in dark red grime, the kind of stain you could never scrub away after years of soaking in blood.
"I've been hunting you all over the New World for three months," Karl roared, a crazed excitement in his voice.
"Today I finally found you."
"How much is your head worth again?"
"Three billion? Four billion?"
"Either way, it is enough for me to expand a few more fleets."
Roger did not answer. He simply watched him calmly.
Behind Karl, four more figures stepped into view.
The first was a tall, thin man in a neatly pressed black suit, completely at odds with the savage surroundings. He held a thick book in one hand, gold rimmed glasses perched on his nose, looking more like a scholar than a pirate.
In Bullet's Observation, the man's internal energy flow surged and sagged, speeding up and slowing down like... several different lives squeezed into a single body.
The second was a woman wrapped head to toe in tight red leather, half her face exposed, the other half hidden behind a metal mask. Six curved blades of varying length hung at her waist, and her fingers were covered in rings, each gem a different color.
The third was the largest of the group, over five meters tall. His naked upper body was a mass of bulging muscle, his skin an unhealthy gray blue. He carried no weapon, but wore a pair of colossal metal gauntlets. Wicked spikes covered the knuckles.
The fourth was an old man in tattered monk's robes, clutching a string of prayer beads, eyes shut as he muttered under his breath.
"Karl's Four Heavenly Kings," Rayleigh said quietly as he stepped up beside Roger, giving a rapid rundown.
"'Scholar' Ith. Suspected multi personality user, specializes in deception and psychological warfare."
"'Bloodblade' Marleen. Swordswoman. Likes to collect the fingers of strong foes and turn them into rings."
"'Giant Fist' Haug. Strong enough to rip the armor off a warship."
He paused, gaze settling on the old man with the beads.
"And that last one is the Ascetic Monk, Arohan. They say most of Karl's rapid rise is thanks to him."
Bullet committed every scrap of this to memory.
At the same time, his devouring instinct stirred restlessly.
Those five radiated the irresistible scent of high quality "food."
"Roger!"
Karl shouted again, raising his monstrous weapon.
"I'll give you two options!"
"First, hand over all your treasure and kill yourself obediently. I will leave your corpse intact."
"Second, I carve everyone on your ship into pieces and feed you to the fish myself."
Classic madman lines.
Roger finally laughed, the open belly laugh of a man who had just heard a good joke.
"Hahahaha!"
"Karl, you know something?"
He wiped away the tears of laughter at the corners of his eyes.
"All these years, the line of people wanting to kill me could go from the New World all the way to East Blue."
"But there are not many who are as straightforward about it as you."
The smile disappeared in an instant.
"But you got one thing wrong."
Roger's hand settled on the hilt at his waist.
"It is not you giving me a choice."
"It is me giving you one."
"Turn your heap of scrap around and get out of my sight..."
"Or sink here to the last ship."
The air went ice cold.
For a heartbeat, the madness on Karl's face froze. Then it twisted into raw, explosive rage.
Veins bulged on his forehead, the black sigils on his skin squirming like live worms.
"You are looking for death!"
With a bellow, Karl swung his weapon in a savage arc.
It was the signal to fire.
The five ships at the very front of the encirclement opened up at the same time.
Flames spat from the muzzles. Dozens of cannonballs tore through the morning mist, screaming toward the Oro Jackson.
"Defensive formations!"
Rayleigh's order snapped across the deck.
The crew moved at once.
Bullet did not.
He stood where he was, closed his eyes, and pushed his Observation Haki to the limit.
He could "see" the landing point of every single cannonball, could "calculate" which ones would hit and which would fall short.
Then he moved.
His dragon man form snapped into place in an instant, black scales racing across his body.
He threw his first punch.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Three cannonballs were knocked aside in midair as if they were toys.
He leapt, body twisting as he rose, his dragon tail lashing out like a whip.
Two more incoming shells from the flank were swept away, smashing into the sea and detonating in towering spray.
The last three cannonballs came in at nasty angles, aimed at the stern, the mast, and Roger's position.
Bullet landed, then stamped both feet into the planks and shot forward like a cannonball himself.
Three pencil thin tongues of black flame jetted from his fingertips with a sharp hiss, each one striking a different shell dead on.
The black fire did not trigger the explosives. Instead, it devoured them.
The metal casing crumbled into powder the instant it touched the flame. The gunpowder inside never even had time to ignite before it was broken down into basic energy and drawn into Bullet's body.
In less than five seconds, the first volley had been neutralized by a single man.
On the enemy ships, pirates stared, mouths hanging open.
Karl was stunned as well, his murky yellow eyes locked on Bullet.
"You... you're the Black Dragon, huh?"
Bullet dropped back onto the deck, scales receding.
He dusted off his hands where there was no dust, then looked straight at Karl.
"Your cannonballs taste awful."
That one line ignited Karl's fury completely.
"Kill him!"
He roared.
"Kill that little Black Dragon first!"
"I will peel his skin off myself and make a new sail out of it!"
The flagship surged forward. All twenty three ships accelerated in unison, lunging toward the Oro Jackson from every direction like sharks that had scented blood.
The battle had begun.
Bullet's gaze shifted to the five figures radiating power on the flagship. Flames kindled in his scarlet pupils.
In the distance, the ascetic Arohan finally opened his eyes.
They were the eyes of someone who had already seen through everything.
His gaze crossed the waves and locked onto Bullet.
The sun rose fully, staining the sea the color of blood.
No one could tell whether it was the morning glow... or a reflection of the blood that was about to be spilled.