"Uncle Tom, hurry up. Let's go see it together. Iceberg said it's an incredible project. We can finally see it with our own eyes!"
Franky's voice rang out across the dock district as he tugged insistently at the arm of a large, round, yellow fish-man.
That fish-man was none other than Tom.
Franky wore his usual outrageous outfit. Black briefs, an open shirt, and his flamboyant hair styled high and proud. For a shipwright, the launch of a pirate ship was a sacred moment. Every launch stirred the blood.
And this time, it was the ship of the Nightfall Pirates.
Three massive vessels, each exceeding one hundred meters in length.
Franky had seen the Oro Jackson before, the legendary ship of Gol D. Roger, personally built by his master. That memory alone was enough to stir awe in his chest.
But the ships of the Nightfall Pirates would be no less spectacular.
Iceberg had been tight-lipped these past few days. Regulations prevented him from disclosing the specifics of the commission. Still, he had let a few hints slip.
A hull capable of withstanding direct cannon fire.
A propulsion system of unprecedented power.
Overwhelming firepower.
A true war machine.
Moreover, the core power system and the main weapons had not been built by Garley-La at all. They had been constructed by a scientist aboard the Nightfall Pirates' crew.
They had not seen the machinery directly, but they had heard it.
Even from a distance, when the systems were activated, the mechanical hum carried through the air. Iceberg, who had inherited Tom's mechanical insight, could immediately tell.
That propulsion surpassed even Marine warships.
"Coming, coming. No need to rush," Tom said, stumbling forward as Franky dragged him along. "It's still early."
"Everyone's already there!" Franky protested. "If we're late, we won't even see anything!"
They hurried through the streets of Water 7. By the time they reached the waterfront, it was already packed with people. A sea of bodies blocked their view.
"We're too late…" Franky muttered, craning his neck.
"Hey, Franky. Over here!"
Iceberg's voice came from above.
Looking up, they spotted him standing on the roof of a nearby building, waving.
Franky's eyes lit up. "Over there!"
They circled around and climbed up.
"You came early," Franky said, slightly out of breath.
"I had preparations to oversee," Iceberg replied with a smile. "You were still asleep when I left. I figured you'd want to see this, so I saved you a spot."
The rooftop offered an excellent view. It stood only about a hundred meters from the shoreline and overlooked the launch channel.
Below, the crowd pressed together shoulder to shoulder. Some people had even climbed onto other rooftops. A few unfortunate spectators slipped and fell, but the people below broke their fall. With sturdy physiques and only two- or three-story buildings, injuries were minor.
From the shipyard gates, the first of the three pirate ships emerged.
The launch track sloped downward at a thirty-degree angle. Half the hull extended outward into open air.
Even from afar, the sheer size was imposing.
The figurehead came into view.
A ferocious, pure-black twin-headed dragon.
This was one of the auxiliary ships. The other auxiliary vessel bore a purple dragon to distinguish it.
The massive hull hung suspended for a moment at the incline. One more push and gravity would take over, sending it sliding down the track and into the sea.
The track design itself was ingenious. The principle was similar to the engineering behind Tom's Sea Train. Laying stable rails across water and weather was no simple feat.
"You all board first," Gar called from behind the vessel.
When the ship slid, the speed would be considerable.
Crew members hurried aboard. Gar planted his arms against the stern and pushed.
The ship lurched forward.
Then tilted.
Then gravity claimed it.
With a thunderous rush, the hull shot down the incline.
Gar had already leapt aboard.
From a distance, the ship grew larger by the second. Its presence alone radiated intimidation.
"Wooo!" Several crew members cheered as wind whipped past them. After Skypiea, this was nothing.
"So cool!" Franky exclaimed, eyes blazing.
Iceberg chuckled. "That's just one auxiliary ship. The main ship is one hundred and fifty meters long. Watch carefully."
Even Tom could not help but nod in admiration.
It was flawless craftsmanship.
For weeks, blueprints had been revised repeatedly. Every angle, every reinforcement, every curve refined until perfection. Now, seeing the completed vessel, even Tom struggled to find fault.
The ship cut through the underwater channel at terrifying speed. Water surged violently along the banks.
Spectators near the channel realized too late.
A massive splash exploded outward.
People were drenched instantly.
And then the ship burst from the channel into open sea.
The impact forced half the hull briefly beneath the surface before buoyancy drove it back up like a breaching leviathan. Some crew nearly lost their footing.
The resulting wave was monstrous.
A wall of seawater surged skyward, tens of meters high, crashing toward the banks like a miniature tsunami.
"Crouch down! Don't panic!" someone shouted.
The residents reacted quickly, squatting low with hands over their heads. Fortunately, an empty buffer zone had been left near the track.
The wave slammed down.
People were soaked. Some were knocked flat, but injuries were minor.
Franky exhaled in relief. "Good thing we're up here."
He shuddered at the thought of being drenched in nothing but briefs. He would have been beaten senseless for indecency.
The second ship followed.
Then it was time.
"Let's go," Teach said calmly.
He leapt onto the Queen Anne's Revenge.
Behind it stood Slada, towering and powerful. With a tremendous shove, the massive flagship began its descent.
The Queen Anne's Revenge dwarfed the auxiliary ships.
One hundred and fifty meters long.
Its figurehead was a dark purple three-headed dragon, fierce and reGar.
Along the hull, the name Dickie was emblazoned in elegant, domineering script, representing Teach himself.
Sixty cannons lined each side.
One hundred and twenty in total.
The sight made scalps tingle.
For comparison, the Moby Dick of Edward Newgate mounted only eighteen cannons per side.
Even the auxiliary ships of the Nightfall Pirates carried forty-two per side.
Otto's cannons were slimmer, longer, more precise, occupying less space while delivering greater power and accuracy.
"Sugoi!" Franky gasped.
To him, it was like beholding the most beautiful woman in existence. The embodiment of masculine romance. Power. Destruction. Engineering perfection.
He wanted to touch it. Study it. Worship it.
Iceberg had mentioned hidden weapon systems within the bow. From this vantage, Franky could see the internal volume. The dragon's maw could open.
There was something monstrous inside.
The remaining ship launched smoothly.
Three vessels now floated proudly upon the sea.
On the opposite side, five older ships approached. At their center was the Lucky Goddess, the Nightfall Pirates' first ship.
Franky frowned. "What are they doing?"
Iceberg's expression softened. "A ship burial."
The older ships could not survive the New World. Their materials were outdated.
They would not be sold.
They would not be abandoned.
They would be given a funeral.
Crew members poured fuel across the decks. Then they dove into the sea and swam toward the new ships.
Silence fell over the waters.
Teach stepped forward.
"For their final journey," he murmured.
Dark energy surged from his palm. From the shadows emerged Longyuan, the sword symbolizing kingship.
He raised it.
"Shōma."
With a single swing, the air ignited.
Crimson-gold flames spiraled outward, forming a towering inferno that engulfed all five ships at once.
The gasoline caught instantly.
The firestorm dissipated, leaving the ships ablaze.
This technique had once been used against him by Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto. Through the old man's notes, Teach had learned it. He deliberately spread the flames wide rather than concentrating them.
Spectacular.
Yet controlled.
The five ships burned fiercely.
Slowly, they began to sink.
Some crew members wiped tears from their eyes.
Teach did not feel sorrow.
This was destruction.
And rebirth.
He felt it then.
He looked upward.
Upon the mast of the Queen Anne's Revenge, a familiar, blurred silhouette smiled at him before vanishing like morning mist.
Others followed his gaze. They saw it too.
The Klabautermann had accepted its new vessel.
Teach grinned.
"Prepare to set sail. Hoist the sails!"
The crew sprang into action.
Canvas unfurled. Ropes tightened. Cannons gleamed in the sun.
The three great ships turned toward the horizon.
And the Nightfall Pirates sailed once more into the vast, boundless sea.