The warship had been loaded with plenty of supplies—medical gear included—which was now being used to tend the wounds of injured pirates.
As the ship's navigator, Lili had temporarily taken charge of logistics. She'd just finished tallying up the inventory.
Inside the captain's quarters, Lili, Akin, and Palu stood as she laid out the numbers. "Based on what we took from the warship, we have enough supplies to keep sailing for about a week."
Branch 23 wasn't far from Campus Town, so their stockpile hadn't been too depleted. Sarge had lucked out.
"A week, huh…"
Sarge gave a short nod, then turned to Akin. "Are there any other towns nearby like Campus? Same kind of economic value?"
He wasn't ready to give up yet.
Since they'd just hit a wealthy town, it only made sense to look for another.
"There are," Akin replied. "Ward Town and Maniru Town. Ward's known for its timber, and Maniru has rich mineral deposits. Both are just as prosperous as Campus."
Lili unfolded the sea chart and pointed at both towns. "One's to the east, the other to the north. Ward Town is closest—we can reach it by tomorrow morning."
"Perfect. We head to Ward Town first!"
Sarge crushed the end of his cigarette into the ashtray, took a swig of rum, and strode out onto the deck.
Up top, some of the crew were painting the sails black while the rest lounged around, chatting in small groups.
"Oi, you lot!"
Sarge clenched his fist and shouted, drawing every pirate's attention.
"That last failure doesn't matter. The next town—that's where we get paid. So keep your spirits up! We will meet our goals. And right now... we celebrate!"
"YEAHHH!!" the pirates roared.
No gold yet, but morale? That had to be fed.
They cracked open half their stores for a full-blown party—rum flowing, food cooking, wounds forgotten. No need to ration when Ward Town was just hours away, and worst case, they could restock along the way.
The cargo was hauled out, the makeshift cooks got busy, and barrels of rum were rolled onto the deck. Wounded or not, everyone clinked wooden mugs and drank like there was no tomorrow.
Pirates didn't care for rules. Their lives were either robbing, or on the way to robbing. This chaos? This was home.
Sarge watched from above, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. Then he glanced toward Lili.
"Hey, no booze for you. You can have juice."
Lili hadn't planned on joining anyway, but being called out like that again made her grumble, "I'm sixteen, you know."
"And sixteen means... high scho—wait." Sarge paused, then nodded. "Right. Sixteen. Legal age."
In this world, sixteen was considered adulthood for women. Still, it felt… off.
He frowned, rubbing his jaw. "Well, just don't drink too much."
Lili shook her head. "I'd rather work on the charts than party."
There was a full collection of maps aboard the warship, even a master chart of the East Blue. As long as she kept cross-referencing, they wouldn't lose their way.
To memorize every nautical chart, to always be ready for sudden decisions—that was what it meant to be a navigator.
BOOM!
BOOM-BOOM!
Out at sea, three Marine warships were tailing a black-sailed vessel, unleashing cannon fire that exploded into the surrounding waves, rocking the ship violently.
Whiiish!
CRASH!!
A cannonball screamed through the air, heading straight for the ship—only to be intercepted by Palu at the stern, his round shield absorbing the impact before the force knocked him to the deck. He rolled and sprang back up, laughing as he faced the Marines.
"Cannons? Against me? I'm Iron Wall Palu! You'll need more than that!"
He wasn't bluffing. He could tank cannon fire.
"Ninety degrees to port—wind's strongest that way!"
Lili barked orders from the deck, sprinting aft to where Sarge stood surveying the scene.
"We're not outpacing them, Sarge. Same speed."
Sarge stared down the next cannonball, leapt into the air, and kicked it right back. It exploded against the Marine ship's mast, setting it ablaze.
"Rankyaku!"
Twin blades of blue air slashed out from his feet, slicing through two other masts and bringing their ships to a crawl.
A wild cheer erupted behind him.
Sarge—Captain Sarge—really was the strongest!
He landed silently, face unreadable, perfectly calm.
Whatever. So they were cursed with bad luck. He'd gotten used to that.
He'd failed at everything else in life. At least as a pirate, he'd secured a warship and had food and booze. That was already more than most.
Getting rich? That was just a matter of time.
They arrived at Ward Town the next morning.
Sarge had gotten up early, pumped and ready to raid—gold, jewels, Berries, anything. Just something.
But fate had other plans.
The town was ruined.
Exactly like Campus.
Half the town was gone, scorched earth and splintered wood all that remained.
Ward Town was known for its lumber—timber so resistant to rot and insects it was sought after across East Blue. Even more prized was a legendary tree species that matured once every thirty years. Indestructible, immune to decay—a shipwright's dream.
Naturally, it had been stolen.
Sarge stared at the wreckage, sighed, and gave up on robbing anything. He ordered his crew to grab whatever supplies they could and leave.
They hadn't gotten far when the Marines caught up again.
Same black sails. No pirate flag. No identifiers.
Same as Sarge's ship.
The ones actually doing the raiding were camouflaged like them. And since Sarge had yet to decide on a flag design, the Navy assumed they were the culprits and gave relentless chase.
That explained the earlier pursuit.
Back in the captain's quarters, he turned to Lili.
"How far to Maniru Town?"
"Two days," she said. "Maybe… maybe we try somewhere else? Somewhere outside Branch 23's waters?"
"There's still one town left. I'm not giving up yet."
Sarge's eyes burned with stubborn fire. "There's no way we walk away empty-handed!"
Maniru was their last shot.
Three prosperous towns—surely one of them had to pay off!
Prosperity didn't come from nowhere. It meant either trade routes or rare goods.
Campus had canvas. Ward had timber. And Maniru? Maniru was rich in ore—bolts, hinges, cannon metal. Essential parts for ships and weaponry.
When they arrived… it was exactly what he expected.
Destroyed.
The same black sails. The same cloaked bastards. They'd razed the town and stolen the legendary ironstone—a rare alloy that never cracked, never wore down, and made perfect, explosion-proof cannons.
And this time… five Marine warships were on their tail.
"Black-Sail Pirates! Surrender immediately or we'll sink you where you float!"
The bullhorn-voiced warning rang out across the sea.
"Rankyaku!!"
In a blur of motion, Sarge unleashed a storm of blue slashes, shearing off masts and gutting a ship clean through. One vessel began sinking on the spot.
But this time, there was no thrill.
Sarge's face was dark—furious.
"Goddamn it!!"
He clenched his jaw and growled, "They get rich, and I take the blame?! That's bullshit! I don't care if the King himself asks me to shoulder this—I'm done!"
He wasn't even mad about the Navy anymore. Pirates getting chased was par for the course.
What infuriated him was that he hadn't stolen a damn thing—just restocked supplies—and he was still being hunted like a criminal.
Enough was enough.
"I don't even care about the loot anymore. Find those bastards. Now!"
He was done being their scapegoat.
He would hunt them down.
And he wouldn't stop… until he made them pay.