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Ocean's Rage
Log 39: Old wounds

Log 39: Old wounds

Battle Log One

Blackbeard's ship, The Lonely Angel

THUMP. THUMP.

The heavy footsteps were imposing. Menacing. Crushing every meaningless insect beneath them.

They were the footsteps of the strongest pirate in the world.

"Where is he, Reece? The man they're calling my rival?" His voice alone weighed down the shoulders of the skinny man in the ragged blue waistcoat, who stood next to the wide entrance which led to the cabin.

I can't take much more of this. I shouldn't have joined this crew!

Before he could answer, the huge shadow of Blackbeard appeared from the doorway. He stood at over seven feet tall, with half his face concealed by the magnificent beard that hid everything below his ears. He had undone the six knots in the beard, allowing it to fall down to his lower neck.

His dark, messy hair was long enough to reach the middle of his back, and was somewhat restrained by a grey bandanna. A thin scar snaked over his right eye, which had somehow managed to escape the wound unscathed.

His clothing was grandiose in contrast to his rough appearance. A long, black fur cape was chained around his thick neck, over the black dress shirt he wore. The two long swords strapped to each side of the leather belt on his waist proved his ability as a dual wielder. His dark brown boots were unusually long, and stretched almost up to his knees.

"He's here, Captain. You see? At the bow of the middle ship." A deep, rough voice that rivaled even Blackbeard spoke out from above the doorway.

Reece looked up at the raised upper deck, to face the towering figure of Yetii.

The hulking man stood far above even Blackbeard at ten feet tall, with a long goatee tied up in three different places decorating his chin. He was bald, and had three huge rings in his right earlobe. His biceps were wide enough to crush two pumpkins between them and his shoulder.

Holy crap. Don't look at me. Please, man. You scare the shit outta me.

"Oi, Captain. You better settle this quick. I don't want to have to deal with these guys any longer than I have to."

The person to whom this voice belonged to was damn near angelic, and the silky sound somewhat calmed Reece's scattered mind. She stood near the main mast, with her elbows resting on one of the barrels of rum as she bent over, eyes on Blackbeard.

Her name was Scarlett Grey, and she was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman aboard the ship. Long, curly hair in a darker shade of amber flowed from her head like a waterfall of honey, and almost lit up the drab, greying silk gauze that she had wrapped around her entire body from neck to toe.

On her forearms, just above her wrists, were two hollow wooden cylinders, both completely wrapped up with several dozen layers of gauze. The amount of layers over the cylinders made her enlarged wrists look somewhat comical.

"I didn't bring eleven Captains with me for nothing." Blackbeard replied, stepping out into the fading sunlight and quickly moving towards the bow of the ship. Scarlett watched him go, and narrowed her eyes.

With a quick swing of her arm, she used the silk gauze to swat his cape aside and snatched a sizzling piece of paper from his back. She dropped it to the floor immediately as it began to catch fire and burn, to avoid her gauze from catching fire. The paper slowly disintegrated, and dissolved into nothing.

"Damn. A few more seconds and you'd have a big burn mark on your back!" She muttered, staring at the spot where the paper had just been.

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Upon hearing this, Blackbeard tossed his head back, closed his eyes and laughed. It was a deep and throaty laugh that made the entire ship tremble.

He raised his hands to his cape and fixed it, smiling. "Leave it to my own Ley to leave a mark on my skin." He said, and resumed his walk towards the bow.

Always knew it was gonna be hard to restrain it. Even a first-grade Seal like that could barely last a week!

He yawned, and stretched his arms. It felt as though he had just taken off an extremely tight set of clothes. His body, joints, legs...they ached, yes, but somehow...they felt renewed.

His entire body was itching, a feeling he had not been able to shake off for some time now.

He was eager to fight.

There was no need for a spyglass to tell whether or not Whitebeard was also at the bow of the Ivory. He could sense his Ley.

It was boiling, making the waves swirl around his ship. Whitebeard wasn't just ready to fight him; he was absolutely livid.

The prospect of fighting the enraged legend they claimed to rival himself made him grin wider than he had in some time.

He knows about that fat oaf, it seems. No other explaination for his anger.

He balled his hands into fists and raised his head. "EDISON!"

His Ley around him pulsed with did the wind and howled, ripping through the air and headed straight for the Whitebeard fleet...

...only for their Captain to hold it back with his own burst of Advanced Ley, making the crests of the waves below leap several meters up to the air. The collision rocked both the Ivory and the Lonely Angel, sending some of the inexperienced men flying.

He found some way to hide that ridiculous Ley of his. And now he's getting his strength back. Whitebeard gripped the plank tightly as he raised his arm, and swung it across the air and into the sea.

The waves were getting rough, but the plank remained afloat.

Right, then.

He looked back at his ship, the Ivory. How long had she served his crew? Ah, fifteen years...the massive iron masts and the wide, trustworthy sails. The floorboards, which were constantly a pain in the ass to fix.

And his crewmates. Leonardo, still dishing out orders. Borris, trying to calm everyone down. Butch, the tiny old rascal. Loved playing pranks and pissing people off.

It didn't feel right without Brice. Nobody laughing and making offhand comments insulting him. Blackbeard would pay for that...he would make him pay.

And of course, that young kid he had taken in. Jackie. Nothing more than a strong-willed brat now, but certainly a boy who had a bright future ahead of him.

There was no time to stand around thinking about every single one of them. Right now, his battle was something distinct from theirs.

With one last smile, he brushed the hair out of his eyes to take in the view of the busy, frantic crew.

"Goodbye, you idiots."

He leaped from the bow and ignited his flame at the sole of his right boot, propelling him straight for the plank.

SPLASH.

It was a difficult landing and he almost thought he'd sink, but the plank somehow managed to stay afloat. Steadily keeping his balance, Whitebeard straightened his knees and stood tall with his head angled back to meet Blackbeard in the eyes.

He took a deep breath and yelled, "NUÑEZ!" His voice caused no quakes, but it certainly gained Blackbeard's seal of approval.

He gripped his cutlass tightly, and pointed the end towards the Ascendant standing above him. "By the time this is over, you're going to regret ever thinking of this plot!" His voice gave away that bubbling anger he was trying to cage in, for the sake of his own sanity. But Blackbeard could smell that anger, and raised his hands in front of him.

"Then come on and fight, Edison. I welcome your rage, your thirst for payback. The time is now!" He said, relishing every syllable. At long last, he could have a real fight. And finally, he could put to rest the last remaining shred of the past left to haunt him.

Whitebeard tightened his grip on the cutlass and lowered it to his waist, pointing the tip back. With his left leg pulled back and the other shuffled forward, he readied himself to begin.

But first...I think there's something else I need to remove beforehand.

Before he could confirm his suspicions, however, the Ley around him shifted, and he spun around to find a thin, wiry man with a steel spear appear behind him, seemingly from nowhere. "I gottem!" He shrieked, and thrust the spear right through the plank Whitebeard was standing on.

"Huh?" He gasped, staring at the empty plank that had begun to sink. "Where did he-"

Then he knew, and immediately swiveled around with his right arm surrounded by sizzling steam-

SHING.

Only for his head to be split in two. The cutlass smoothly travelled from the top of his head, through his right eye and out the side of his jaw diagonally, causing ginger strands of short hair and teeth to fly off into the air.

Captain Ferenk Germain of the eleventh ship was dead.

He heard the panicked cries and screams from the furthest ship at the edge of the fleet's formation, and ignored them. Instead, he glared up at Blackbeard to lock eyes with him once more.

"Are you gonna send insects to kill me like a coward, or are you gonna fight?" He growled, and drew back his cutlass.

And for the first time, he used his Elemental Ley.

The flame had been lit.