As Leo followed the sisters up the stairs toward the cabins, he caught a glimpse of the warriors' faces. They weren't tense; they were grinning.
After a month of silence and daily drills in the windless heat of the Calm Belt, these women weren't afraid—they were bored. The sight of an approaching pirate ship was better than a festival to them. To the Kuja, battle was a welcome break from the monotony of the sea.
The pirates on the other side, however, seemed even more desperate.
Before Leo reached the upper balcony, he saw the enemy vessel—a ragged, mid-sized galleon—deploy several massive oars. A dozen pirates were leaning into each sweep, groaning as they tried to force their ship toward the Kuja flagship. In the windless sea, their slow, lumbering movement was their only hope of survival. If they didn't take this ship, the Sea Kings eventually would.
It was a pity they had picked the worst possible target in the Grand Line.
Leo stopped by a window instead of entering the cabin, choosing to watch the encounter unfold. Beneath the waves, the two giant sea serpents remained submerged, casually towing the palace ship forward. The pirates had no idea they were about to attack a vessel pulled by two living siege engines.
As the ships drew closer, Leo's vision—sharper now that he was younger and away from the screens of his past life—could make out the expressions on the enemy deck. They were covered in grime and sweat, their faces twisted with a manic, desperate excitement.
In the world of pirates, women on a ship were often considered bad luck, mostly because they were rare and their presence caused infighting among the crew. For these men, drifting half-mad in the Calm Belt, a ship full of women was a mirage made flesh. They didn't care about the flag or the skull on the sails. They were driven by the most primal instincts of survival and lust.
The Kuja warriors stood at the railings, their expressions calm and light. They uncoiled the snakes wrapped around their bodies and arms. In a fluid motion, the reptiles stiffened into perfect, tension-filled bowstaves. The women notched their arrows, waiting with the predatory patience of a cat watching a mouse.
They could have fired from a distance, but that would have ended the fun too quickly.
When the pirates' battered hull finally slammed into the side of the Kuja flagship, a cheer went up from the rabble. They swung their cutlasses and brandished their pistols, leaping across the gap with wild roars.
They had no idea that they were mid-air targets.
The Kuja didn't even bother with Haki. Against this level of trash, it wasn't necessary. A rhythmic thrum echoed across the deck as dozens of arrows were released simultaneously.
The kinetic energy was staggering. Arrows didn't just pierce the pirates; they carried them backward. Men were pinned to their own masts mid-swing, or nailed to the deck and hull of their own ship. It was a masterclass in precision. Whether it was the ship's cook or the medical officer, every woman on this boat was a professional soldier who trained every single day.
There is a fundamental difference between a "brigand" who loots for wine and a "warrior" who trains as a way of life.
In the first volley, nearly fifty pirates fell. The manic joy on the enemy deck vanished, replaced by a cold, soul-crushing realization.
A crew is usually broken once they lose thirty percent of their numbers. For these pirates, who were nothing more than an unorganized mob, the sight of their comrades being pinned like butterflies to a board was enough to snap their nerves. They stopped charging and huddled together, their eyes darting toward their leader.
Standing in the center of their deck was a five-meter-tall giant of a man with a wild beard and a captain's bicorne hat. He held a massive scimitar, and under normal circumstances, he looked like a nightmare. He was strong enough to kill a man like Leo with a single punch.
But right now, the giant was dripping with cold sweat. Unlike his illiterate crew, he knew exactly what those flags meant. He looked up at the Kuja crest—the skull surrounded by nine snakes—and his knees began to shake.
"Boss! What do we do?" one of the pirates shrieked, the panic spreading like a virus.
The captain didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the "Beautiful" death that had just pulled alongside them.