White clouds drifted lazily across a flawless blue sky.
The sun hung high, spilling golden light over the world like a blessing.
On the sea, that glare scattered into blinding sparks—like someone had dumped an ocean of gold into the waves.
Shhh—crash.
The wind skimmed the surface, stirring the water into restless ripples.
Sea travel was always painfully dull.
The kind of dull that made you forget time was even moving.
Thud-thud-thud!
A chaotic rush of footsteps broke across the warship's deck.
"Colonel Bogard!"
"Three thousand meters ahead—there's a pirate ship in the area. Do we engage?"
Several marines hurried up, faces tense and serious, reporting what the scouts had found.
"A pirate ship?" Bogard raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"I was wondering why we haven't even seen a single pirate sail this whole trip."
"For a second I thought the Grand Line had somehow become safe."
"And now—right when I'm thinking that—one shows up."
He clicked his tongue.
"Guess I jinxed it."
They were long past the Calm Belt now, deep in the central routes of the Grand Line.
Normally, a day of sailing here meant running into pirates—three to five crews if you were unlucky, at least one or two even on a "quiet" day.
But for several days straight, they hadn't spotted anything.
Bogard had even started joking to himself that maybe pirates had all gone legit.
Turns out it wasn't peace.
Just bad luck.
And now their luck had finally "improved."
"Three thousand meters…" Bogard thought for a moment, then asked, "Can you see their flag clearly enough to identify them?"
Before giving any order, Bogard always filtered the situation through his brain first.
It didn't matter if the enemy looked weak—he never fought on assumptions.
Gather intel. Confirm identity. Check the bounty and known capabilities.
Then decide whether to attack.
That was Bogard's style: calm, steady, cautious.
And that steadiness meant fewer mistakes—fewer marine casualties.
Minimum losses. Maximum results.
That was always his battlefield creed.
"They seem to be…"
"The White Bear Pirates."
"The captain is White Bear Rabiz. Bounty: 110,000,000 Berries."
"The rest of the crew, combined, are worth around 100,000,000."
"Total bounty for the whole crew is roughly 200,000,000 Berries."
One of the marines quickly pulled out posters and handed one to Bogard.
Bogard skimmed the details and nodded.
A crew worth two hundred million total wasn't small-time in the Grand Line.
Still—
This wasn't the kind of thing that needed Garp stepping in.
Bogard could handle it.
"Try to avoid long-range fighting," Bogard ordered.
"If we trade cannon fire and damage our own warship, we'll be the ones losing money."
"So—have the helmsman close the distance at full speed."
"Everyone prepare for close-quarters combat."
"Yes, Colonel!"
The marines turned to leave.
Then—
"Oh. And call Raifeng here."
"Yes!"
Not long after, Raifeng showed up on deck with his katana in hand, strolling like he didn't have a care in the world.
Bogard's eyes gleamed. He smiled—bright and dangerously enthusiastic.
"How about something exciting?"
Raifeng stared at him, suspicious.
"Colonel… I don't know why, but that smile gives me a bad feeling."
Bogard leaned in, tone turning "helpful."
"This will benefit you when you join the Marines."
"It's merit. Real merit."
"And when you officially enlist, your rank and status will climb fast."
He tapped Raifeng's sword lightly with two fingers.
"Also…"
"I've noticed your blade hasn't tasted blood yet."
"A sword that never drinks blood dulls over time. It needs a baptism."
"And so do you."
"A baptism in blood—so your mindset can evolve."
He spoke it like a simple truth.
"In short…"
"Your swordsmanship needs to carry human lives."
He smiled wider.
"You understand?"
"So tell me—doesn't that sound exciting?"
Raifeng paused, then immediately caught the key point.
"We ran into pirates."
"Right ahead—less than three thousand meters out. A pirate ship."
"I already ordered the helmsman to close in. We're preparing to attack."
Bogard's expression was calm, but his voice carried a blunt confidence.
"If you're interested, this gets even easier for us."
"We can just hand it to you."
"I believe you can handle it. Easily."
Raifeng chuckled.
"Not gonna lie… you've got me tempted."
A swordsman's blade wasn't meant to stay clean forever.
And Raifeng wanted to know what real killing intent felt like.
A real fight where people didn't "spar."
A fight where someone's life could end.
That sounded… thrilling.
His fingers tightened on the hilt.
The katana's edge caught the sunlight and flashed harshly.
Raifeng lifted his gaze toward the horizon.
Far out across the endless blue, a ship was coming into view—first a vague shadow, then sharpening, growing clearer.
A pirate ship.
A skull-and-crossbones flag.
Pirates…
He realized, almost amused, that he'd never actually fought pirates before.
So this was perfect.
"Helmsman—full speed ahead!" Bogard barked.
"Everyone else stands by. No one attacks without my order!"
Then he raised his voice, loud enough to carry across the deck—
"Listen up…"
"We're preparing to send Raifeng in."
Raifeng froze.
"…Deploy?"
He glanced sideways, expression turning strange.
Deploy?
Like he was some kind of weapon?
A cannonball?
Raifeng's mouth twitched.
So not only was he a tool—
He was a projectile now.
A living, sword-wielding human cannonball specifically designed to smash pirate crews.
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