Ever since learning of the impending large-scale hunt, the Bellamy Pirates had shifted into full battle-readiness mode. All routine training ceased; the priority now was conserving energy and storing strength. Muret, the ship's doctor, began preparing large quantities of fast-acting styptics, while Mia, the chef, focused on making high-energy, long-lasting rations.
The following morning, Drake, who was on watch duty, noticed something amiss and quickly roused Bellamy.
"Captain, take a look." Drake handed Bellamy the telescope. "Early this morning, a merchant ship passed nearby," Drake reported. Encountering a merchant vessel on the open sea was perfectly normal. "But not long after that, we spotted a fishing boat." Encountering two unrelated vessels in succession, however, felt less coincidental. Drake gestured towards the horizon where a small sailboat had just appeared. "That makes three. In less than two hours, we've crossed paths with three separate ships in this area."
The implication was obvious: these weren't random encounters. They were scouts.
A savage grin spread across Bellamy's face. He pointed towards the distant sailboat. "Sink it. And bring back a few survivors. I have questions."
"Yes, Captain." Drake moved like lightning, exiting the wheelhouse and using Moon Walk to dart across the waves towards the target vessel.
Now that their general location had likely been reported, the hunters who had caught their scent wouldn't be far behind. The main force would soon converge.
They could, theoretically, turn tail and try to lose their pursuers in the vastness of the sea. Even with hundreds of ships searching, catching a single, determined vessel on the open ocean wasn't easy. But Bellamy refused to even consider it. This was the North Blue, his home turf! If he allowed himself to be chased and harried here, in the weakest of the Four Blues, how could he possibly survive, let alone thrive, on the Grand Line? The Grand Line was home to real Grand Fleets and monstrously powerful crews. He would rather fight and die here, even pointlessly, than show weakness and retreat now.
Before long, Drake returned to the wheelhouse, dragging several terrified captives behind him. Bellamy wasted no time on pleasantries. The interrogation began immediately, and it was not gentle. It didn't take long to extract the necessary information.
A grand fleet totaling over five hundred and eighty vessels was converging on their current position. An operation of this scale had naturally drawn widespread attention. The news of this massive hunt had set the entire North Blue underworld abuzz. The three major powers orchestrating the hunt—the Black Market network, Lvneel Kingdom, and the Vinsmokes—had apparently persuaded the Marines to stay out of it. Dozens of Marine warships were reportedly observing from the periphery of the forming "Grand Fleet," but were taking no direct action. With the Marines opting for non-intervention, no other power in the North Blue dared interfere. This ad-hoc grand fleet of nearly six hundred ships was now rampaging across the sea with impunity. A spectacle of this magnitude hadn't been seen in any of the Four Blues for decades, perhaps longer.
Absolutely no one believed Bellamy and his small crew could possibly survive such overwhelming odds.
No one, that is, except themselves.
Casually kicking the broken bodies of the interrogated scouts overboard, Bellamy clenched his fists. "Everyone, assemble!" he roared.
Once all crew members designated for combat were gathered, Bellamy produced a thick stack of Vivre Cards. "One for each of you. Keep it safe." He looked around at his crew. "Latest intelligence confirms it: the three powers have assembled a grand fleet. Nearly six hundred ships are closing in on us as we speak."
The sheer number was staggering. Even Drake's face turned grim upon hearing it. Ross, Mia, and Muret audibly drew sharp breaths. The two interns, Mani and Muret's brother, began trembling uncontrollably, their legs threatening to buckle.
"This fight is going to be an absolute chaotic melee," Bellamy stated grimly. Nearly six hundred vessels, ranging from small cutters to larger warships... the resulting battlefield would be pandemonium. "Take my Vivre Card piece," he instructed, distributing them. "Guard it with your life. Do not lose it. If you get separated during the fighting, or if you're captured, do not despair." Bellamy held up one of the small paper scraps. "As long as this piece remains, there is still hope." Bellamy kept pieces of all his crewmates' Vivre Cards. As long as those pieces existed, the Bellamy Pirates would not be truly broken.
"Now, listen up. Here's the battle plan." Bellamy's voice sharpened. "Pay close attention! Don't miss a single damn word!" If they maintained their course, the enemy vanguard would likely engage them within two days at most. Battle was imminent. Bellamy's demeanor grew sharp, deadly serious.
"First, let me set the overarching strategy for this engagement." He met each of their gazes. "Priority one: Crew survival. Abandon ship if necessary." The sheer number of enemies far exceeded his initial estimations. Saving their current vessel, a medium-sized ship, was likely impossible.
"This applies to everyone. Including you two kids." His eyes locked onto the interns. "I have only one order for all of you: survive. Use any means necessary, but survive." Back on Minion Island, Bellamy had often warned them that during major battles, he wouldn't be able to protect everyone individually. Now, that scenario had arrived. His core crew had been somewhat prepared for this possibility and accepted the harsh reality readily.
"Drake and I will form the spearhead. We will engage proactively, destroying any enemy vessels that enter our immediate vicinity." Any ships daring enough to approach them directly at this stage would likely be the vanguard scouts or the most aggressive hunters—the hounds smelling blood.
"Ross! Be resourceful. Don't tie yourself down defending this ship. Look for opportunities. If you need to, commandeer an enemy vessel. Find a way to stay alive." He then turned to Mia and Muret. "That goes for you two as well. You must survive." A battle of this scale was beyond their current capabilities. Survival was his only expectation for them.
"As for you two," Bellamy said, his gaze falling on the interns. He'd initially hoped he could shield them somewhat, but the sheer scale of the impending storm was beyond anything he'd imagined. Whether these two kids made it through... that would likely come down to fate. "Mani. You and him, find sturdy barrels. When the fighting starts, seal yourselves inside and get thrown overboard. Into the sea." Bellamy patted her head, his voice softening slightly. "Pack plenty of food and water in there with you. If you're lucky, you might drift for a long time before being found." He genuinely couldn't think of a better plan for them. It was a long shot, but it was something.
"Don't be afraid, Mani," he added, attempting reassurance again in his own blunt way. "If a cannonball hits your barrel directly... well, you'll probably be blown to bits instantly. You won't feel a thing."
Mani, who had merely been trembling before, dissolved into fresh tears at his 'comforting' words. "Waaaaah... Noooo, Boss! C-can't I just not die?!"
"Don't be a fool," Bellamy said, his voice quiet but firm. "Everyone dies eventually. Even the sun, moon, and stars will fall one day. How could mere humans live forever?" He looked at her seriously. "Just live without leaving too many regrets. That's enough for one lifetime."
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