Battle Log Three

Whitebeard vs Veltmann, The "Heiligdom"

Ah. I'm dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. How many times had he tried to avoid that word? For how long had he feared it?

A hundred years, yes. A hundred years of research and development, all for the sake of that one selfish goal. Ditching the Grim Reaper himself.

And I failed.

SHIIING.

He knew what was going to happen before it actually struck. Just the sound of the blade and the rumble from beyond his field of vision was enough to finally get his body moving.

The wind suddenly soared, and knocked everything on the deck everywhere as bow was split from the rest of the ship, and blown apart by a single crisp, powerful cut from Blackbeard's sword.

Veltmann could do nothing but watch as the headless body of Catherine slid down the shattered bow and into the endless sea below, soon to be joined by the bodies of her dead men and the rapidly sinking bow of the mangled Heiligdom.

A dozen questions went through his mind at once. How fast was the ship sinking? Could everyone aboard escape in time? Did he even have the time to think about the others?

He glanced up, and saw Blackbeard hovering above the ship with his massive cape flapping back and forth in the wind, like the wings of some predatory bird. His eyes were on his counterpart, who had glided away from the slice and was now floating in mid-air just like he was, except Whitebeard stood with his steel-soled boots against two condensed balls of flame.

Blackbeard watched the girl's lifeless body fall into the sea. His smile was now gone, and in its place was an increasingly annoyed grimace.

He glared at Whitebeard. "That brat was an important tool of ours, Edison. You're going to pay for that one." His words only had the opposite impact on Whitebeard. Instead of losing his composure, he actually smiled.

"Good to see you're not just some emotionless hunk yet, Nuñez. Come on. Let's see if you fight as well as you mumble!" He taunted, and pointed his cutlass at him.

TAP TAP TAP.

Veltmann ran. That was how he had survived all this time, his big secret to surviving the pirate life.

Knowing when to run.

Battle Log Four

The Ivory, Whitebeard's fleet

Things had calmed down now to some extent at the Ivory, and the other ships as well. All that was left to do was the final order to begin the charge forward.

That responsibility now lay with the vice-captain, Leonardo. And his lieutenant, Borris.

"We're going to need Cotton's help to deflect the worst of it." Leonardo muttered, to which Borris clapped his hands together in response. "Then that's what will be done. Look!"

He pointed at the ship to their left, The Marigold of the Cotton Pirates. It was smaller than the Ivory by half a dozen meters and two decks, but almost equally elegant, with the hull covered with murals depicting some of the battles the ship had been involved in.

The Cotton Pirates had finished their preparations, with vice-captain Dorothy readying the attack against the opposing fleet. And now, Captain Sue Cotton stood on the steel bow spirit that extended from the tip of the Marigold, resembling a sort of figurehead dressed in all black.

Behind her on the deck, Dorothy gazed at the back of Cotton. Even in this dire situation, she didn't seem discouraged at all.

"Dorothy."

"Yes, Captain." She replied, wishing she could tell her to be safe. I'd just be reprimanded, though.

Cotton was ever confident. "I'm leaving you in charge here. Got it?" Dorothy wanted to be just as confident as her. To say something equally undeterred in response...but the image of her figure standing before Dorothy with Blackbeard's fleet and the oncoming storm looming beyond the ship brought forth a primal sort of fear in the girl.

And Cotton felt this fear.

"Your Ley gives away too much, Dorothy. Calm down." She said, turning her head and looking over her shoulder at her vice-captain. Dorothy tried to take a deep breath, but couldn't. My...my hands are trembling. She thought, tightening her hands into fists as they uselessly remained against her sides.

"Have some faith, for goodness sake. I didn't spend all these years fighting for my own subordinates to start doubting me." She smiled, hiding the sadness deep down.

Calm down, Dorothy. For the sake of everyone aboard. They need you as much as me.

Dorothy managed a shaky grin herself, and turned around. "Yeah. I'm just being too dramatic, aren't I?" She asked, almost talking to herself.

Cotton didn't answer.

She was too busy falling off the bow, and towards the rising waves below. The drop was long, but she enjoyed the feeling of the wind against her face and the sense of freedom it gave her.

Falling like a feather to the ground, except that feather was a sleek, heavy, Cotton-shaped object which would almost certainly die if it hit the water headfirst, the way she was getting closer and closer to the surface.

In one swift motion, Cotton gathered the water droplets in the air beneath her feet and slid down to the sea, uprighting herself as she descended. She hit the waves feet-first, and an eerie stillness immediately came upon the waters around Whitebeard's fleet. The waves, the ripples on the surface, everything simply vanished, leaving behind a smooth and mirror-like body of water reflecting the clouds above.

"Water Ley. That is Captain Sue Cotton's ability."

Yale Tavares. Tall, imposing, with long curly hair that reached just beneath his nape. It was originally dark brown, but had been dyed black halfway down.

Not too muscular, and not too skinny. Normally silent, but not afraid to speak out when he needed to. He almost never wore a shirt at all, preferring to expose his caramel coloured skin to challenge the punishment nature could muster up against him. Already, the drizzling rain was gathering tiny raindrops on his shoulders.

"I see. So I presume we don't know what her Primis is either?" The man he was speaking to was the respected Franco Materazzi, a long time servant of Blackbeard for over a decade. The Italian was slightly shorter than Yale, and wore a short blue coat that just about covered his waist. Most notable was the massive long rifle that rose over his shoulder, strapped to his back with a leather sling. On his head was a steel helmet that had been painted with a lighter shade of copper, with several odd circular lenses attached to tiny steel arms rising from a contraption made of gears just above his right eye. His short, greying black hair was just about visible beneath his helmet.

Leonardo nodded, feeling frustrated that they knew virtually nothing about who they were fighting. It would be a great learning opportunity, but...to have this little understanding of the opposing Captains could be our downfall.

The veteran sniper showed no signs of frustration as he swung the rifle down to his arms. "Then we will simply corner and crush them. My duty as a sniper can be done efficiently without that fat hog in my way."

Brice Redneck, Whitebeard's sniper. Yale knew more about the history of those two than he pretended to. But now was not the time to think about meaningless squabbles from the past.

He raised his arm, and touched the large elongated weapon strapped to his back with rope. It was covered with a large grey sheet of cloth, to the point where its original shape was unrecognisable.

If it came down to it, he would have to swing that thing again. And this time, he had a certain target in mind he wished to fight.

"Leonardo. That is the boy I want to test." He said, only to receive a disapproving grunt from Franco.

"For what?" He asked, grabbing a handful of musket balls from one of the four pockets strapped to his belt and methodically inserting them into the rifle. "You waste time too much for the sake of learning. We are not students of fate, we are warriors who serve Blackbeard. You agree, don't you?"

He did. There was no doubt on who they served. "It isn't a question of loyalty, or trust when it comes to the Captain. I simply want to see who Whitebeard has chosen as Leopards' successor...as his vice-captain."

The man who destroyed twenty English ships by himself...can that boy truly equal him?

He had to know.

Franco sighed, and turned to the main mast. "If that is what you want, then fine. Do whatever it is you see fit. But don't cost us our victory here today." He knew the conversation was over. And he trusted Yale enough to understand he would finish what he starts.

He felt a prickle in the back of his neck.

Ley was shifting behind him. A massive amount of it.

He turned to the front of the ship, and saw that female Captain standing on the surface of the sea, with two fingers from her right hand flicked up in front of her.

"Sea Serpent's Den."

The water in front of Whitebeard's fleet began to rise, towering higher and higher to the skies. With extraordinary speed, the enormous volume of water flattened and compressed, forming a massive, partially transparent wall of water that curved around the three ships.

On top of the wall, the culprit skipped to the center and faced the eleven ships of Blackbeard's fleet, completely on her own.

"So many eyes...and yet, none of them are dark enough to intimidate me." Cotton muttered, placing her hands on her hips.

With a small grin, she raised her chin to display her dominance.

"Come on! I'll show you why the darkest eyes can put the brightest in shadow!"