Vice smiled. He lowered the Den Den Mushi, and seeing his expression, the Morass soldiers beside him began to smile as well. Their gazes fell upon the pirates, and their smiles turned cold and sharp.
Without another word, Vice shot the tattooed man a contemptuous smirk. With a wave of his hand, he uttered a single word: "Go!"
THUMP! The sound of thirty pairs of boots hitting the ground in perfect unison echoed through the clearing. The elite soldiers of Morass took a single, synchronized step forward, their disciplined and powerful aura causing the pirates' faces to change.
This sudden shift in attitude caught the tattooed man and his crew off guard. They couldn't understand why a single phone call had changed everything.
He wasn't worried, though. He narrowed his eyes, staring at Vice. Before he could speak, a man with a scarred face and yellowish hair—who appeared to be his second-in-command—raised his sword and pointed it at Vice. "What's this? You want to fight?" he sneered. "Looks like your cargo is pretty valuable. Feeling lucky?"
"Heh..." Hearing this, Vice, who had been about to charge forward, suddenly chuckled. He retracted his foot and rolled his neck, producing a series of sharp cracks. He turned to the man with a roguish look. "Yeah, it's very valuable. All thirty of us are pretty confident we can take on your hundred-plus men."
"Hahaha!" The man burst out laughing as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. He looked at Vice as if he were some insignificant microbe, completely ignorant of its own mortality.
His laughter stopped abruptly, and he said mockingly, "You mean you think you can beat us? Really... I don't know what to do with you. But since you made me laugh, I'll ask for you. Hey, boys! You think they can beat us?" he called out to his men.
"Hahaha! No way, Vice-Captain!"
"You don't even have to ask!"
The pirates erupted in derisive laughter, their eyes filled with scorn as they looked at Vice and his crew.
The tattooed man wore a faint smile. Although he didn't join in the laughter, he didn't believe for a second that his crew could lose to a few dozen nobodies.
They looked well-trained, sure, but that didn't mean they were strong. He himself was a former Marine; he knew all about being "well-trained."
But battles weren't won by drills alone. Back when he was a Marine, he was constantly being chased by pirates. It was only after he became a pirate himself, surviving countless battles and pursuits, that he gained the strength he had today. His 300 million Berry bounty had been earned through one life-or-death struggle after another.
So, he had no doubt his men were right. The idea that his crew could be defeated by a bunch of new faces on the Grand Line was laughable.
Though, he had to admit, the man in the lead did look a little familiar. Probably not anyone important, though. For a ragtag group like this to make such a bold claim... no wonder his second-in-command was laughing his head off.
Vice didn't know what the tattooed man was thinking. As the sounds of mockery filled his ears, a shadow fell over his face.
Heh! So... they see us as trash.
He looked up at the pirates, who were still jeering and making a racket, and a sneer of his own touched his lips.
BOOM!
Without any warning, the ground beneath Vice caved in, forming a shallow crater. He vanished from his spot, the explosive force of his launch propelling him directly into the midst of the hundred pirates.
It was a tiger let loose among sheep.
Screams erupted instantly. Blood sprayed as a path was torn through the crowd of pirates. In less than a second, five or six men were sent flying high into the air, their organs ruptured by a massive fist. They crashed into nearby trees, dead before they hit the ground.
The pirates in the center of the group were sent flying by the sheer force and concussive wind of his punches. Like a storm scattering leaves, he swept a dozen men off their feet in a single motion.
Those who managed to react and fight back were like praying mantises trying to stop a chariot. The moment their weapons met Vice's fist, they were sent flying, their bones shattered beyond recognition.
The tattooed man and his second-in-command's faces changed. They spun around, but at that moment, the hair on their bodies stood on end as they sensed an imminent danger from behind. Without thinking, they leaped to the sides.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A split second later, dozens of bullets slammed into the spot where they had just been standing, tearing up the earth and kicking up a cloud of dust.
Seeing that they had missed, the thirty Morass soldiers remained unfazed. They swiveled their guns and aimed at the remaining pirates.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
A continuous roar of gunfire erupted, the muzzles of their guns spitting an unending stream of fire. One after another, the pirates fell like dominoes. Caught off guard by Vice's sudden assault, they had already forgotten how to fight back, and they never expected such a terrifying barrage of gunfire from behind. Only a few managed to react in time. In that single instant, the crew of over a hundred men was reduced to less than thirty.
The tattooed man and his vice-captain, having just dodged the bullets, landed to see this scene of carnage. They froze, their pupils dilated in disbelief at the hellish sight before them.
"What... what kind of weapons are those?" the vice-captain stammered, staring at the guns that were still spitting fire. He recalled the feeling of mortal danger just moments before, and a chill ran through him.
One of the Morass soldiers seemed to hear him. He turned, grinned, and roared, "The new model! It's called the ZG Light Machine Gun 001! Heh... Enjoy it, you scum!"
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The relentless gunfire continued, the muzzles constantly shifting to track their targets.
"Aaargh!" The tattooed man finally snapped out of his shock. With a roar of grief and fury, he charged at the Morass soldiers, his eyes bloodshot.
He was incredibly fast, closing the distance in the blink of an eye.
As he ran, his body began to transform. Fine fur sprouted on his skin, his pupils became vertical slits, and sharp claws extended from his hands and feet. He swiped at a soldier's neck, his claws radiating a deadly sharpness. There was no doubt that the blow would be lethal.
But just then, a tall, powerful figure stepped in front of the soldier and threw a simple, unadorned punch.
BOOM!
The air itself seemed to explode. The punch and the claws collided.
The next moment, a pained grunt was heard. Vice stood his ground, a mocking smile on his face, completely unmoved. A dark figure was sent flying backward, slamming into a tree trunk.
"A cat?" Vice sneered, seeing the tattooed man's transformed state. He began to walk toward him, step by step.
The vice-captain rushed to his captain's side, holding his saber defensively as he watched Vice approach.
Although he looked battered, the tattooed man was a Zoan user with a 300 million Berry bounty. He wasn't seriously injured. He stood up and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his second-in-command, their eyes locked on the advancing Vice.
They could see that not a single one of their men was left standing. The ground was slick with their blood.
They had been completely wiped out.
The tattooed man's eyes were bloodshot. He clenched and unclenched his claws, his teeth grinding together.
Vice stopped less than five meters away from them. He looked at the tattooed man, meeting his murderous gaze. "You said you were under the Big Mom Pirates, right?" he asked with a faint smile. "Do you know who I am?"
"Who!?" the tattooed man demanded. It was the one thing he wanted to know. He had to know who had destroyed his crew.
He stared at Vice, his pupils dilating and contracting.
Vice grinned. "The Captain of the First Battle Unit of Morass, Vice."
Wh-what?
The tattooed man's eyes went wide, and for a moment, his mind went blank. "Morass..." he muttered in a daze. "Vice... Vice!"
A jolt of realization shot through him. He looked at Vice in utter disbelief.
No wonder...
No wonder he looked so familiar.
Heh... So I misjudged someone for once. Vice... one of Wilder's top commanders. And I treated him like trash?
Heh heh...
Wait! A thought suddenly struck the tattooed man, and his face paled. He stared at Vice. "Morass... What is your purpose here? Showing up at a time like this... this can't be a coincidence."
"My purpose?" Vice smiled, giving the man an appreciative look. He lowered his voice. "You seem pretty smart. As for my purpose... I wonder... does defeating Big Mom count?"
Gulp.
The tattooed man's mouth fell open. For some reason, even though he didn't want to believe it, he felt like the man was telling the truth.
At his side, the vice-captain burst out laughing. He looked at Vice with utter contempt. "Defeat Big Mom? Are you joking? Everyone knows Morass and the Big Mom Pirates don't get along. But there's something else everyone knows... Morass and Wilder are going to die at Big Mom's hands for daring to offend her. Defeat Big Mom? Hahaha! That's the most ridiculous joke I've ever heard."
Vice turned to him, his smile still in place, but his words were devoid of any humor. "Do you believe I could kill you right now?"
"Kill me?" The vice-captain sneered. "Sure, with your strength, it would be easy. But are you sure you want to do that? I was personally appointed by Big Mom to—"
"What a weirdo." Before he could finish, Vice shook his head and cut him off. In the same motion, he appeared in front of the man and snatched the saber from his hand. The entire sequence was too fast to follow.
A beautiful arc of blood flew through the air. A head soared high before landing on the ground. The vice-captain's voice was cut off mid-sentence as his body crumpled to the floor, twitching.
The tattooed man stared in shock for a moment before snapping back to reality. He panicked and turned to flee.
But Vice was faster. The bloodstained saber flew from his hand and pierced the tattooed man's back, exiting through his chest. His escape came to an abrupt halt.
With a thud, his body hit the ground.
And with that, they were all dead.
The battle had ended so quickly mainly due to the element of surprise and the overwhelming threat of the light machine guns. In the end, Vice's decisive execution of the second-in-command had thrown the captain into a panic, making him an easy target. Otherwise...
"Begin the operation," Vice said grimly, turning his back on the scene. He strode forward, leaving his men to follow his tall, imposing figure.
At the same time, the other high-ranking officers in their various locations received Wilder's order and had already begun to act, even before Vice.
The battle of Dressrosa had reached its conclusion. In the end, Doflamingo could not escape his fate and was defeated by Luffy.
Wilder put away the Visual Den Den Mushi. He sat on the sofa, drinking alone, waiting for the results as time ticked by.
"Today's wine... is strangely sweet," he said, a cold smile touching his lips. He had the perfect disposition for a mastermind.
He had done what he needed to do, which was to do nothing at all.
The orders had been given. All that was left was to wait patiently for the reports.
As he waited, time slipped by. Wilder leaned back on the sofa, for once not feeling the urge to use every spare moment for training.
He finished another glass of wine. For a time, the only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock and the faint aroma of alcohol.
Just as he emptied the last bottle, the news he had been waiting for finally arrived.
Reports of victory began to pour in from the various islands.
"Rosapeth Island: Mission complete."
"Chichigor Island: Mission complete."
"Manswei: Mission complete."
"Binsgrey: Mission complete."
"Hasadi: Mission complete."
"Pongiseck: Mission complete."
"Nokkun..."
"Kendilton..."
A continuous, dense stream of reports came in. A faint smile spread across Wilder's face as he listened.
Even before these reports arrived, ships had already been departing from Morass's docks, one after another. They were transporting a steady stream of supplies and personnel to the various islands, moving like a quiet but constant trickle of water.
This was a contingency Wilder had prepared for long ago. The small advance parties wouldn't be enough to hold the territories. More manpower was needed to secure them. But a large-scale deployment would attract attention. So, the moment the advance parties had set out, the reinforcements had begun their journey.
There was no mass mobilization. Instead, small ships moved in small groups, traveling secretly through the Calm Belt and taking long detours to avoid surveillance.
"Now," Wilder said to himself, "let's see who has the bigger fist."