A few days later, the opportunity came.
The warship received new intel: the 80-million–Berry "Blood Axe" Pirate Crew was gathering on a fortified island.
In the briefing room, Sakazuki stood in front of the map as usual, face like stone.
"Target: Blood Axe Pirates. According to intel, all members are gathered in the central fortress," an adjutant reported.
"This is a pure military fortress island—no civilians. It appears they're holding a banquet to celebrate yesterday's raid."
"Vice Admiral!" one officer spoke up immediately. "The enemy is massed together and off guard. I recommend we land under cover of night and wipe them out in one strike!"
Sakazuki's severe face didn't shift. He just nodded. "Fine."
He turned to his adjutant. "Dal, your squad will handle this mission. I have only one requirement: enact Absolute Justice."
His eyes swept across everyone present and finally settled on Rain and Rosinante.
"And make sure you bring the two recruits. They need to see blood."
"You two," he pointed at Rain and Rosinante, "you're assigned to the landing squad. You'll be on the assault team."
They immediately stepped out. "Yes, sir!"
Rain lowered his gaze slightly so no one could see his expression.
Waited this long—finally my turn to move.
…
The night was ink-black.
Storm winds herded clouds across the sky, swallowing moon and stars.
Cold rain hammered the sea, drumming up towering waves.
Out in the pitch-dark storm, a Marine warship floated like a ghost, silently anchored just beyond the Blood Axe crew's line of sight.
On the aft deck, the air was heavy with killing intent.
Thirty fully armed Marines stood ready in three assault boats, making final preparations.
Every man wore a blank expression, their movements sharp and economical, eyes like ice—this was a unit forged under Sakazuki, disciplined and ruthless.
Commander Dal, Sakazuki's trusted adjutant, stood before them, issuing final orders. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut straight through the howl of the wind and rain.
"Listen up! Our mission is to completely wipe out every pirate on this island!"
He glanced at his watch. "The Vice Admiral has only one demand—Absolute Justice. Understood?!"
"Yes, sir!" The unified shout was low, full of lethal resolve.
Among these elites, the two intern recruits looked painfully out of place.
"Big Golden Retriever" Rosinante was on the edge of panic. His night ops gear was half twisted, his face ghost-white in the dim light, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold his rifle.
As he climbed into the assault boat, he "lived up to expectations" and missed a step.
"Ah—!" he yelped as he pitched straight toward the freezing black water.
"Gotcha."
A firm hand snagged his collar and yanked him back.
"Th… thanks, Rain!" Rosinante gasped, clambering into the boat, looking gratefully at him.
Rain didn't answer—just quietly let go.
Compared to Rosinante's disaster, Rain looked composed. He showed no fear about the impending battle; he calmly double-checked his gear.
His movements were precise and methodical, like he was preparing for a routine exercise instead of a near-suicidal raid.
Commander Dal shot Rosinante a cold glance, irritation flickering in his eyes. If the Vice Admiral hadn't personally specified them, he'd never have brought such obvious dead weight.
"Move out!"
With his command, the three assault boats shot forward like arrows, using the storm's cover to speed toward a cliffside landing point on the island.
…
Half an hour later, beneath the cliffs.
Cold rain streamed down Rain's face.
One hand clung to the slick rock face; with the other he flashed the "all clear" signal upward.
Thanks to Rain volunteering and the "keen intuition" he'd shown in previous drills—backed by solid physical performance—Dal had assigned him to the vanguard. He was the first to crest the difficult landing point.
Soon, all thirty men of the landing squad had scaled the cliff like silent cats, not making a sound.
"Rosinante! Move it!" Rain hissed, grabbing the big blond idiot just as he nearly fell off the edge again.
"Everyone, stay sharp and advance with overlapping cover!" Dal murmured. "Scouts in front. Sergeant Rain, assist reconnaissance."
"Yes, sir!"
Rain nodded and melted into the dark brush.
Relying on his [Advanced] Stealth and inhuman senses, he moved through the forest like a panther in the dark—silent, focused, deadly.
Rain soaked his hair and clothes, but he ignored it, every nerve tuned to his surroundings.
"Stop."
After they'd advanced about a hundred meters, Rain raised a hand.
The entire squad froze like statues, holding their breath.
Dal shot him a questioning look.
Rain pointed at a shadow behind a nearby boulder. "Two men there. Breathing is heavy—likely sentries."
Dal's eyes hardened. He signaled with his hand, and two veteran soldiers slipped off to the sides like ghosts.
Shff— shff—
The sound of blades slicing throats barely registered over the storm.
The veterans dragged the corpse-like sentries back. One nodded to Dal, then regarded Rain with a hint of respect—this recruit's senses were clearly exceptional.
"Keep moving."
They advanced again.
On the way, Rain's beast-like intuition led them to three more hidden sentry posts and two trap lines—all quickly and cleanly neutralized by the squad.
Dal's view of Rain shifted from "extra baggage recruit" to "sharp Marine." The kid's recon ability was nearly on par with his best scouts.
Rosinante, on the other hand, just stuck nervously to the middle of the formation, barely daring to breathe.
The fortress loomed nearby now.
Through the rain, they could faintly see lights along the high walls and hear muffled laughter and revelry from inside.
Just one last stretch of open ground, and they'd be at the ammo depot's outer wall.
A flash of cold light passed through Dal's eyes as he readied the signal for their final rush.
And then—
"AAACHOO—!!!"
A cannon-blast sneeze detonated in the middle of the dead-silent formation.