"No need, water won't wake him," a calm voice cut through the tense silence.
The surrounding Marines froze and turned toward the speaker. Who would dare speak so boldly in front of Vice Admiral Bastille?
Their eyes fell on a young man in casual clothes, lazily dragging his slippers as he stepped forward.
Ashveil stopped in front of Bastille and smirked.
"I said, Bastille, Major Benn isn't going to wake up. He was knocked out by my Conqueror's Haki. He won't be up for three or four days," he said with an almost playful tone.
"I originally thought about knocking all of you unconscious, but since your food was good, I decided to spare you. Leave now. As for Doflamingo, the Whitebeard Pirates will handle him."
He spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his voice steady and unshaken.
The Marines were dumbfounded.
"Whitebeard Pirates? Did he just say he's one of them?"
"What kind of idiot openly admits that now, when Marine Headquarters is preparing to strike against them?"
"He's too arrogant…!"
"Forget that—how did this guy even get on board?"
The whispers spread quickly, but Bastille's face twisted with fury beneath his iron mask. To be lectured by a boy barely in his twenties, was this what had become of Marine prestige?
"Brat, you're far too arrogant! To trample on the justice of the Marines and dare to mock me… I'll make you regret ever joining the Whitebeard Pirates!" Bastille roared.
In a flash, he drew his massive Sea Splitting Sword and swung down at Ashveil's head with deadly force.
"Vice Admiral Bastille is enraged! That pirate is finished!"
"Poor fool, he doesn't even look twenty. Why waste his life as a pirate?"
"Pirates deserve death anyway!"
Some Marines even stepped back, afraid his blood would splatter onto them.
But then silence fell.
The sword stopped—completely motionless—a meter from Ashveil's head.
Bastille's hidden eyes widened in disbelief.
"What trick is this? A Devil Fruit ability? The Barrier Fruit?"
He pressed harder, veins bulging, forcing his massive strength into the blade. The tip edged forward by a fraction, but sweat poured from his brow. His trembling hands betrayed the truth: he was being held back by something overwhelming.
Ashveil tilted his head, his tone calm and cold.
"You're far too weak, Bastille."
The realization struck Bastille like a hammer. This wasn't arrogance—it was dominance.
"Don't just stand there!" Bastille shouted hoarsely. "He's alone! Attack together! This man's from the Whitebeard Pirates—kill him, and you'll be rewarded!"
Obedient to his command, the Marines surged forward. Swords raised, guns leveled, even two rocket launchers appeared.
Ashveil sighed, unimpressed.
"Really, Bastille? I've already been polite. And you repay me like this?" His lips curved into a smile that chilled even the Vice Admiral. "Numbers won't save you."
The pressure in the air shifted.
Buzz...
Ashveil released his Conqueror's Haki. It poured out of him like a tidal wave, crashing over the ship.
The Marines charging with swords collapsed instantly, their bodies sprawling across the deck. Those aiming rifles and rocket launchers dropped like stones, eyes rolled back, foam spilling from their mouths.
In the span of heartbeats, the entire warship lay silent, its crew unconscious. Only Bastille remained standing—and even he was barely holding on. His body felt like it was weighed down with iron, his head splitting with pain, fear clawing at his chest. His knees threatened to buckle with every passing second.
"You… who are you?" Bastille gasped, voice trembling. "The Whitebeard Pirates… they've never had someone like you! I'd know!"
Ashveil gave a low chuckle.
"I told you already, Vice Admiral. I'm part of the Whitebeard Pirates. You wouldn't know me because I've never shown myself. I am the Zero Division Captain."
Bastille's mind reeled. The rumors… the whispers about a hidden captain who had supposedly annihilated the Blackbeard Pirates just yesterday. He had dismissed it as nonsense.
But now, staring into Ashveil's calm, merciless eyes, he realized the truth. The Marines had underestimated the Whitebeard Pirates once again.
The last shred of Bastille's resistance crumbled. His body seized, his eyes rolled back, foam touched his lips, and he crashed onto the deck with a deafening thud.
Ashveil stood amidst the fallen, utterly unfazed. He brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve and stretched, as if this had been nothing more than an idle workout.
"That was easy enough," he muttered with a grin. "Next time I see a Marine ship, I'll just walk up, release my Haki, and save myself the trouble."
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Sick... could only manage to upload a chapter each on all my fanfictions.
Can you please send Power stones.