Suddenly, Flampe's trembling gaze shifted toward the distant frontline—
Toward Snack, one of the Sweet Commanders, a pillar of the Big Mom Pirates' pride.
Even across the chaos, she could see him.
Snack's fury was mounting as the battle spiraled further out of control. Marines were advancing. Pacifistas were carving through their ranks. The island was burning.
But before him stood an unyielding wall—
Vice Admiral Yamakaji.
Blade in hand, Haki flaring, the seasoned Marine blocked every advance. His swordsmanship was sharp and disciplined, each strike calculated, each movement precise. He had sailed these seas for decades; he understood exactly what Snack represented.
If Snack broke free, marine casualties would skyrocket.
So Yamakaji anchored him in place.
Their clash was fierce yet eerily quiet—no taunts, no wasted breath. Only steel against steel. Only Haki grinding against Haki.
Snack roared and pressed forward again, unleashing a violent barrage, desperate to cut through and reinforce the collapsing battle lines elsewhere.
Yamakaji did not retreat.
The two collided once more, sparks flying as blades met midair.
And just as the duel reached its peak—
A shadow flickered behind Snack.
"Soru."
Vice Admiral Strawberry appeared like a phantom.
The long-bearded Marine, tall hat swaying, moved with ruthless precision. Twin blades flashed in his hands as he seized the split-second opening created by Yamakaji.
Snack had already burned through immense stamina and haki. His focus was fixed forward.
He never sensed the killing intent at his back.
By the time he realized—
Too late.
Strawberry's blade plunged deep into a vital point from behind.
Snack's eyes widened violently. Blood burst from his mouth.
And in that same heartbeat—
Yamakaji's Haki-coated sword descended from the front.
A single, merciless arc.
The blade tore clean through Snack's neck.
Scarlet sprayed into the air like a shattered fountain.
Snack's body trembled. His lips moved faintly.
"…Despicable…"
Then he fell.
Yamakaji stepped forward slowly, face grim.
This had been his duel.
But he knew the truth—had it dragged on, even he might have paid the price.
So he swallowed his pride and asked flatly, "Report."
Strawberry sheathed one blade, tone calm.
"We hold the advantage. But their officers are still dangerous. If we want a decisive victory, we must eliminate them quickly."
Yamakaji nodded once.
"Then move."
The two vice admirals vanished back into the battlefield.
From a distance, Flampe had seen everything.
Her body went cold.
"B-Brother… Snack…?"
Her legs gave out beneath her.
Snack—one of the Sweet Commanders. A symbol of strength. A towering pillar of their crew.
Dead.
Just like that.
In her mind, Snack had always been invincible—strong enough to crush enemies effortlessly.
Yet even he had fallen today.
Tears blurred her vision.
But her grief was laced with something far darker.
Fear.
If even Snack couldn't survive…
What chance did she have?
The war was no longer something distant or dramatic.
It was real.
And death was walking closer with every step.
Just then, a tall figure appeared beside her.
It wasn't a Marine.
It was Charlotte Opera, Big Mom's fifth son—the minister of fresh cream.
His face was pale, his clothes splattered with blood, yet he forced down the grief clawing at his chest. Grabbing Flampe by the shoulders, he hauled her to her feet.
"Flampe! What are you still doing here?" he demanded urgently. "Why didn't you retreat with Brulee? The front lines are collapsing. We can't hold them anymore! Fall back into the city—use the streets, the buildings! We fight them block by block. Move!"
Flampe blinked as if waking from a nightmare.
Then, suddenly—
She violently slapped his hand away.
"I—I don't want to die!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she turned and sprinted toward the rear, sobbing hysterically.
Opera stared after her for a split second.
Before he could chase her, two familiar figures stumbled up behind him, both bloodied and barely standing.
"Brother, what do we do now?" one asked hoarsely.
It was Count and Gala, his younger brothers. Of the quintuplets born to the same father, only the three of them stood here now.
Opera's expression tightened.
"Where are Cavalette and Cadenza?" he asked quietly.
The silence that followed was answer enough.
His heart clenched—but there was no time to mourn.
"Brulee should have reached the Phoenix Pirates through the Mirror World," Opera said through gritted teeth. "We endure. Once reinforcements arrive, this will be our counterattack. Until then, we avoid direct clashes. Retreat into the inner city. Guerrilla tactics. Split up and regroup later."
"Brother Opera, watch—! "
The warning cut off abruptly.
Opera spun around—
And froze.
His two brothers stood motionless.
Not dead.
Stone.
Their bodies had transformed into lifeless gray statues, their faces still twisted in alarm.
Opera's pupils shrank.
In the distance, atop a massive white python, stood a woman of breathtaking beauty—clad in a purple qipao, long dark hair flowing elegantly.
Her eyes were cold.
"Pirate Empress…" Opera whispered in horror.
Boa Hancock.
"Slave Arrow."
A rain of heart-shaped arrows streaked through the air.
Opera tried to dodge—too slow.
The arrow struck his chest.
In an instant, his body hardened.
Stone swallowed him whole.
Hancock delicately brushed her hair back, her expression filled with disdain.
"Disgusting men."
Not far away, Flampe was still running.
She glanced back—And saw Opera and her brothers turned into statues.
Her breath hitched.
The Pirate Empress had defeated them effortlessly.
Fear like she had never known swallowed her whole.
Then—
Two killing intents locked onto her.
Cold. Sharp. Unrelenting.
Vice Admiral Onigumo.
Vice Admiral Doberman.
They were cutting through the battlefield methodically, eyes scanning for high-value targets.
And Flampe had just run straight into one of the most heavily contested pirate zones.
She had made herself an obvious target.
Under Fleet Admiral Sakazuki's absolute orders, there would be no prisoners.
No mercy.
Not even for a thirteen-year-old girl.
Flampe stumbled, tears blinding her vision as the two vice admirals steadily closed in.
"Help! Help me!" she screamed hysterically. "Brothers! Sisters! Someone save me!"
But the battlefield offered no answer.
Only gunfire.
Only screams.
At that critical moment, two tall women with elongated necks stepped forward, placing themselves between Flampe and the pursuing Marines.
They were daughters of the Charlotte Family from the Snake-Neck tribe—the fourth daughter, Charlotte Yash, and the fifth daughter, Charlotte Effilee.
"Sisters!" Flampe sobbed, tears streaming down her face as hope flickered in her despairing eyes.
Yash didn't even glance back. She drew her blade and shouted sharply—
"Run!"
That single word shattered Flampe's paralysis.
She scrambled to her feet and sprinted toward the inner city, not daring to look back again.
The battle had only begun a short while ago, yet the Big Mom Pirates were already collapsing. Sweet Commanders had fallen. Islands were burning. The Pacifista were advancing like iron giants.
A terrifying thought gripped her heart—
'We're going to lose.'
She had to escape.
Beehive Island. Wano. Anywhere.
As long as she left Cake Island, there was still a sliver of hope.
Regret twisted inside her.
Why hadn't she left with Brulee? Why had she stubbornly stayed behind out of spite and pride? If she had swallowed her anger then, would she be running for her life now?
Behind her—
Onigumo narrowed his eyes the moment he recognized the two women.
"Hmph. Two more Charlotte daughters?" he muttered coldly. "And they don't look weak."
Doberman's expression remained hard as iron.
"As long as they are pirates, they don't deserve to live."
Onigumo gave a slight nod.
"Well said."
Steel flashed.
The four clashed in an instant.
Yash and Effilee were skilled swordswomen—disciplined, precise—but they possessed no Devil Fruit abilities, no overwhelming edge. Against two battle-hardened Vice Admirals, the disparity quickly became apparent.
The exchange lasted only seconds.
Onigumo's blades blurred like a storm of fangs. Doberman's sword descended like judgment.
Two clean arcs of steel.
Blood sprayed.
Yash and Effilee fell almost simultaneously, their bodies collapsing onto the broken streets of Cake Island.
Another pair of Charlotte siblings lost to the tide of justice.
Elsewhere on the battlefield—
One of the Sweet Commanders, Charlotte Cracker, stood at the center of a sea of biscuit soldiers.
Dozens. Hundreds. Perhaps more.
Endless armored warriors surrounded him as he clashed fiercely with Vice Admiral Candidate Tokikake.
Tokikake slashed through waves of biscuit men with fluid precision, yet his tone remained strangely casual.
"I say," he called out while cutting down another squad, "how long are you planning to keep hiding behind these toys? My patience is running thin. Are you going to face me properly, or do you intend to drag this out all day?"
Cracker sneered from atop his biscuit knight.
"If you want to fight me," he replied coolly, "you'll have to get through my army first."
Tokikake paused.
Then his brows knit together.
"So that's it… You were never planning to fight me directly?" His voice grew colder. "Are you mocking me?"
Before the last word faded—
His blade fell.
A massive, conical slash tore through the battlefield like a spiraling lightning storm. The ground split. Biscuit soldiers disintegrated into dust. The shockwave carved a violent path straight toward Cracker's true body.
Cracker's Observation Haki screamed in warning.
The relaxed smile vanished from his face.
The biscuit knight beneath him was obliterated in an instant. He leapt backward sharply, gripping his greatsword Pretzel with both hands, pouring Armament Haki into the blade.
The impact hit like a tidal wave.
He was driven back dozens of meters, boots grinding against shattered stone, before he finally managed to redirect the remaining force upward.
The sky cracked with an explosion.
Cracker steadied himself, breathing slightly heavier.
'That sword pressure…'
That was his first genuine thought.
In the distance, another circular Haki slash erupted, tearing through the remaining biscuit encirclement like a hurricane, splitting armored warriors clean in half.
Tokikake lowered his blade slowly, his eyes now sharp and fully serious.
"I suggest you stop underestimating me," he said calmly. "I am an Admiral Candidate. If you mistake me for an ordinary Vice Admiral… that will be your fatal error."
The battlefield trembled.
-------------
AN: Check out my P@treon For +60 extra chapters.
Thank You For your Support!!
[email protected]/noviceauthor777
-----------------------
To keep the chapters coming - Support with POWER STONES.
For Every 100 power stones - 1 BONUS chapter.