The Fire Wolf Pirates had already lined up on their deck, blades flashing, eager for blood. Their eyes locked on the merchant ship, ready to storm aboard and turn the crew into corpses.
Then came the thunder.
A cannon boomed, shaking the air, followed by two more in quick succession. At such close range, the Fire Wolf Pirates had no time to react. The cannonballs slammed into their hull, explosions rocking the ship.
Two shots tore through the lower deck. The third landed right in the middle of their ranks, where most of the pirates had gathered to prepare for boarding.
The explosion ripped through them, fire and splinters devouring men in an instant. Blood sprayed as screams filled the air. The stench of burning wood and gunpowder rolled across the deck.
Even hardened New World marauders flinched. For a heartbeat, the fear of death flickered in their eyes.
Hog's face darkened. "Cannons… on a merchant ship?" He clenched his fists. In just seconds, more than ten men were dead and over twenty wounded.
For any crew, such losses were staggering. But then his lips curled into a grin. If this ship had cannons, then the rumors had to be true, the Devil Fruit was here.
More shots came. Hog leapt high into the air, his legs coated in Armament Haki. With brutal kicks, he deflected three cannonballs in mid-flight, sending them splashing harmlessly into the sea.
"Captain Hog!" his men roared, renewed fire in their eyes.
"Everyone, charge! Board them now!" Hog bellowed.
The two ships closed to less than twenty meters. With a bone-rattling crash, the Fire Wolf vessel rammed into the merchant ship, the reinforced hull smashing into the keel. The decks locked together as the pirates poured across the gap, howling like madmen.
"Hold the line!" the old captain roared. His crew, bolstered by Ivan's hidden stash of guns and cannons, met the first wave with a barrage of musket fire.
Pirates fell screaming, their bodies riddled with bullets.
But these weren't rookies. They were New World cutthroats, used to bleeding through volleys to get close. Steel clashed as they stormed forward, and the deck became a battlefield.
In the cabin, Teach watched calmly. "Mobius," he said, grinning as he drew his twin pistols, one black and one white. "Time for you to stretch those arms."
Mobius's blood was already boiling. He looked at Teach. "And you, Boss?"
"Zehahahaha! I'll cover you. Just don't die too quickly."
Mobius couldn't help but smile. He grabbed a cutlass and rushed onto the deck. The chaos swallowed him instantly.
A pirate with a cruel grin lunged. "A brat? You're mine!" His blade slashed down.
Mobius dodged sideways, countering with a desperate swipe. The pirate parried easily, pressing him back. "Too green," the man sneered.
Mobius only smiled faintly.
His arm suddenly twisted and stretched, coiling like a serpent around the pirate's neck. The man's face bulged red as Mobius yanked, dragging him forward.
With a brutal strike, Mobius's saber slashed the pirate's wrist, forcing him to drop his blade. A heartbeat later, Mobius drove his cutlass into the man's gut.
The pirate collapsed, dead before he hit the deck.
Mobius barely had time to breathe. Another pirate charged from behind, blade raised high. He spun too late. The saber was already falling.
A shot rang out. The attacker jerked, a neat hole in his forehead, and dropped lifeless at Mobius's feet.
Teach's voice drifted over the din, calm and mocking. "Keep your eyes open, Mobius. The battlefield doesn't forgive daydreams."
"Understood," Mobius muttered, cold sweat on his brow. The lesson burned itself into him, he wouldn't forget.
He fought harder. His strange arm coiled and struck, his blade carving through the chaos. Blood spattered his clothes as his movements grew sharper, more decisive.
In a short span, seven pirates lay dead by his hand.
But then three came at once.
Veterans.
He could see it in their stances. Mobius's snake arm could handle two, but three? He gritted his teeth and stepped back.
They boxed him in. One in front, two flanking his sides. No escape.
"Fine," he thought, exhaling. "Then I'll cut my way out."
He popped his joints with sharp cracks, pain lancing through him, but his face didn't twitch. The pirates hesitated, thrown off by his bizarre self-mutilation. Mobius didn't waste the moment. He lunged at the one in front.
"Snake Hand: Entwine!" His arm shot forward, wrapping the pirate's weapon hand. With a savage pull, he dragged the man straight into his waiting blade. The cutlass punched through the pirate's chest.
"Damn brat!" the other two snarled, charging together. But they weren't fools; they had seen his arm's trick. One feinted left, the other swung right, trying to pin him down.
Mobius grabbed a fallen blade and fought with two sabers, his slashes wild and unpredictable. Steel shrieked against steel as his snake arm twisted at odd angles, keeping the pair at bay.
Still, they adapted quickly. They weren't greenhorns. His attacks had a rhythm, a weakness. They pressed him hard. Mobius's breath grew ragged.
"I'll take one down first," he resolved. He baited with his left arm, forcing one pirate to retreat. Then he spun right, both blades flashing. His opponent panicked as twin cuts slashed across his arms, and then Mobius's saber pierced his chest.
The last pirate roared and struck. His blade carved a savage gash down Mobius's torso. Blood poured as Mobius gritted his teeth, refusing to scream. With one arm, he locked the pirate's weapon in place. With the other, he rammed his saber into the man's stomach. The pirate crumpled lifeless to the deck.
Mobius staggered, chest heaving, his shirt soaked in crimson. He turned and slipped back toward the cabins, body screaming for rest.
On the way, he passed corpses with neat bullet holes drilled into their foreheads. The walls around them bore marks of ricochets. Every shot had been fired from Teach's room and every shot had been perfect.
Mobius's respect deepened.
Teach's accuracy, his Armament, his Observation Haki, it was monstrous. And Teach still found time to explain swordsmanship, Haki, the truths of the sea.
Lessons Mobius now carried in his blood.
Back in the cabin, Teach sat with eyes closed, Observation Haki spreading across the deck. His interest wasn't in Mobius anymore. No, his focus was on the duel raging at the bow.
The old captain fought with grim resolve, but he was flagging. His wounds from Demon Island hadn't healed, his stamina long since faded. His strength was solid around what a pirate with a 100-million bounty could muster, but Hog was younger, faster, and burning with energy.
Still, Teach wasn't watching their clash for the outcome. His gaze was on Hog's fists. Every blow, every breath, every subtle shift of weight. The Fire Wolf Fist. His punches burned with flame, raw physical technique turned into elemental force.
"Interesting," Teach murmured. His grin widened in the dark. "If claws can be honed like swords, why not fists like fire?"
Outside, blood sprayed as the old captain staggered back. Hog pressed forward, flames dancing around his fists, ready to crush his foe.
And Teach, in the shadows, studied every move, every spark, committing it all to memory.