Plop!
The drenched Marine drove his sword through the pirate's neck, even as a wound in his abdomen screamed of pain.
"Ugh…"
The pirate stared blankly at the steel embedded in him, cursing weakly:
"Son of a bitch…"
Then he collapsed backward, eyes lifeless, his body hitting the ice with a heavy thud.
Thump!
The Marine swayed unsteadily, exhaustion overtaking him. His hand gripped the longsword, and despite the blade being lodged in his abdomen, he pulled it free with a grunt. Pain should have ripped through him, yet somehow this frozen battlefield seemed to warp reality itself.
Cough, cough, cough…
Blood surged up violently, threatening to spill, but he forced it back down, steadying himself. Leaning on his sword, he stepped forward, only to trip over the corpse of the pirate he had just slain.
Thump!
He fell hard onto the ice, vision blurring, consciousness slipping away.
…
"Dad…"
A faint, familiar voice cut through the haze of pain and chaos.
"I… I'm still alive…"
The Marine blinked, trembling, his gaze falling on the pirate's lifeless body, a bitter, unseeing smile frozen on its face. Then his eyes caught something unusual—a crude straw doll hanging from the corpse's neck. Its simple clothes bore a crooked red heart pattern.
"…?"
Almost instinctively, the Marine reached out, clutching the straw doll.
"I really hope this is just a nightmare…"
Slowly, he forced himself upright, glancing around the ice-strewn battlefield. Chaos still reigned.
Coughing, he gently closed the pirate's unseeing eyes, respect for his enemy lingering despite the bloodshed. This pirate had been responsible for killing the last three Navy soldiers accompanying him. Anger could not reach him now, dulled by the bitter numbness of the frozen air. The straw doll now hung around his neck, a silent reminder, as he pushed onward toward the next skirmish.
…
"Damn it…"
He decapitated a crawling pirate attempting a last-ditch swing of an axe at his feet.
"Hoo… hoo…"
Another pirate fell, killed with effort. The temporary Marine outpost had now been reduced to him alone.
Whoosh, whoosh…
The coppery, pungent scent of blood filled his lungs, overwhelming all else.
"It… it's unbearable…"
Sweat mingled with blood, eyes scanning the ice-strewn battlefield for movement.
"Advance! Do not let Little Oars Jr.'s sacrifice be in vain!"
Bang! Bang! Bang! Boom!!!
Gunfire and cannon blasts tore across the battlefield, tossing Marines and pirates alike.
"Kill the Marines! Rescue Captain Ace!"
Clang!
"Die, you damn Marine!"
The pirates' cries grew louder, approaching. Their relentless charge carried the same slogan—"Get Captain Ace back!"—with terrifying vigor.
"I… I…"
The Marine's hands trembled. Leaning on his sword, he turned backward, limping away.
"No… I can't keep fighting…"
Though he felt no pain from his abdominal wound, his legs were weak, soaked in blood.
"I must survive… I need to return… to see my child…"
Desperation lent him strength as he limped toward a quiet corner. Survival now outweighed duty. Ten years trapped at the rank of Warrant Officer had taught him the value of life—he intended to return, earn his promotion to Captain, and keep the promise made by that conniving base commander.
"Hey! Where are you going? The enemy is over there!"
Ignoring the calls of comrades, he staggered on, heedless of their contempt, only intent on finding a safe spot.
Time blurred. How far had he gone? The bitter cold receded slightly, replaced by an eerie silence. Cannon fire and cries faded into the distance.
Cough, cough…
Blood trickled backward, choking him.
"Are you okay?"
A concerned voice from another Marine reached him.
"I… I'm… fine…"
White Lieutenant gasped, struggling to breathe. Though his wounds caused no sharp pain, blood loss and reflux made death feel imminent.
"Damn… so much blood!"
A stout Marine General supported him against a wall, panic evident.
"What do we do? What do we do?"
Seeing White Lieutenant soaked in crimson, the General's resolve wavered. He had intended to escape but had encountered this veteran instead. Though terrified, abandoning a comrade was impossible.
"Hold on! I'll fetch the medics!"
With that, he sprinted away, leaving White to his own devices.
Hoo… hoo…
Exhaustion and blood loss threatened to consume him.
"Blood…"
His vision blurred as the crimson from his abdomen pooled around him.
"Is… all… gone…?"
Cold seeped into him, an icy warning that death was near.
"This is… it…"
Memories of family, promises, and the pirate's dying curse echoed:
"Son of a bitch…"
Rumble!
An explosion shattered the quiet, flames soaring into the sky.
"Have the enemies… reached… here?"
White Lieutenant struggled to lift his head, eyes watering from smoke and exhaustion.
"What a pity… I've lost all strength…"
His gaze fell to the straw doll around his neck. Heart-shaped and crude, it slipped from his fingers, landing in the crimson snow, now stained by his own blood.
Tap, tap, tap…
A figure appeared: a man in a red suit, Admiral's coat draped over his shoulders. He walked calmly down the street, indifferent to the dying Marine leaning against the wall. His eyes were set on Marineford Plaza, where chaos still raged.
Humph.
Even the cunning of Whitebeard could not have predicted such betrayal.
A ferocious smile curved on the man's face.
"For absolute justice!"
Blazing magma shot skyward, a deadly warning.
The battle continued, relentless and bloody.