Tell Me the Answer (6): The Cliff's Judgment
Sticky blood covered my entire body.
Of course, it wasn't mine. Still, it wasn't a pretty sight, and Elise furrowed her brow the moment she saw me.
She wiped the blood from my cheek with her handkerchief and asked,
"Captain, are you okay?"
"Yeah."
I shrugged my shoulders at her.
My breath was coming a bit short, but if I let that show, they'd make a huge fuss over nothing.
Elise finally relaxed at my calm expression, stroking her slim chest with a sigh.
"Phew, that's a relief. We were all so shocked when you suddenly charged out like that."
"More importantly, get ready. Now the real fight begins."
The skirmish had just ended. From here on, their main force would come at us full throttle.
They'd probably go all out to smash this ship in half rather than a straight-up fight.
No matter how close we hugged the cliffs, if they sacrificed ships to ram us, our losses would be massive.
Plus, they had two ships of the line.
This wasn't the time to get cocky over wrecking a single scout ship.
At least our crew's morale was sky-high—that was some good news.
And right on cue, even better news arrived.
"Oh, and I think Jack's team just arrived."
The group we'd sent up the canyon must have finally signaled.
I smirked and turned toward the helm.
"Hey, Aaron!"
"Yes, Captain."
"Don't fuck up this time. Steer her right."
"Pfft, don't worry about it!"
That's exactly what makes me worry, you bastard.
I clicked my tongue and looked back at Elise.
"From here on, your role's crucial, Elise."
"Leave it to me!"
Elise saluted smartly with her small hand.
I scanned the entire crew.
"The rest of you, back these two up while I carve through the enemy. Keep your heads in the game."
"Hell yeah, our turn at last?"
"Captain, that's not fair. You hogged all the fun."
For all their cocky talk, their fingertips trembled faintly.
Not that I was any different.
Killing a person never got less terrifying, no matter how many times you did it.
The moment you forgot that feeling, you'd stop being human.
So let's end this damn fight quick.
Our pirate crew suited clinking glasses and causing a ruckus far better than clashing swords.
I glanced up at the cliffs.
Jack, I trust you.
The One-Armed Hand Pirates' main fleet finally broke through the narrow coastal waters.
Just as Edward predicted, they charged with their massive ship of the line leading the way.
The Albatross kept her distance to avoid a head-on collision.
Vice-Captain Volkman of the One-Armed Hand berated his helmsman.
"Hurry up! From now on, it's a speed battle!"
No matter that Mad Dog's inhuman strength, if their ship got smashed, it was all over.
Look at that puny, pathetic little thing.
To them, the Albatross was just a toy boat—nothing more, nothing less.
The moment their ship of the line rammed it, victory was theirs.
Meanwhile, Jack and his crew, who had reached the cliff top, panted heavily.
"You bastards! Push harder!"
"Hah, huff! Jack bro, we can't push any more!"
They were in the middle of rolling a massive boulder they'd scouted earlier toward the cliff edge.
"Can't? Fuck that. You gonna whine like that in front of the captain?"
"...What the hell kinda beating is that?"
"Then shut up and push!"
And finally, they reached the edge.
"Thought we were goners for real."
"Yeah, good work, everyone."
Jack grinned fiercely.
Now all he had to do was watch the Albatross and wait for the moment.
He slumped down.
"Damn captain, throwing us into the fire pit again."
Thinking about it, the captain always drove them into hellish spots. Not exactly pretty words for a good leader.
But the reason they desperately followed his orders was simple.
'You, be my crew.'
The day Jack first met Edward, he'd said that—extending his hand, grinning savagely just like Jack did now.
'What changes if I follow you?'
Back then, as a slave trader's captive, Jack was bitter enough to refuse that hand.
But the answer that followed shook him.
'Freedom.'
'...Freedom?'
'Join my crew, and you'll be the freest man in the world with me.'
It was nonsense, utter bullshit.
Yet Jack's heart pounded wildly.
The others here were no different.
Most of the crew had nearly been sold to slavers, enduring hellish fates.
Just because they were lowly. Just because they were born worthless. Weaklings plundered and trampled for lacking power.
A man pointing to the vast sea and shouting freedom—how could they not be drawn in?
Jack.
And every crewman here would give their lives for Edward.
So they waited. That was all they could do.
For the signal from the Albatross.
For Elise to raise the blue flag.
Down below, the situation grew dire.
The Albatross and the One-Armed Hand's ship of the line were locked in a high-speed chase.
"...Shouldn't we roll it already?"
"Wait for the signal, no matter what."
Jack clenched his fist.
He desperately wanted to help now, but he held back.
Even hours later, eyes bloodshot, he kept watching the Albatross, waiting.
And then.
Far off, a blue flag fluttered.
Jack bellowed instantly.
"Now!!"
"Roll it!!"
"Push like hell, you fuckers!!!"
Jack and the crew shoved the massive rock off the cliff with everything they had.
BOOM!
The thunderous crash echoed even up top.
Even if they missed, it was fine, Edward had said.
True to his word, the lead ship of the line lurched from the sudden waves.
They'd been pushing top speed, so their formation crumbled in seconds.
Edward didn't miss it.
He raised his sword and roared,
"Grapples away!"
Ropes lashed out, snaring the ship of the line.
Edward dashed along them.
"You fucking—!!!"
Volkman's face turned beet red.
What followed was pure melee.
Endless shoving, slashing, and screaming as they butchered each other.
And amid it all, one man stood out.
"Edward!!"
The Mad Dog himself.
Volkman could only goggle.
Look away for a second, and he'd close in.
Blue lightning crackled across the deck from nowhere, and dozens of his men plunged into the sea.
Monster.
The word fit him perfectly.
Volkman drew his flintlock pistol and fired, but Edward dodged the shot effortlessly. How could anyone call this human?
The Gray Line was vast.
Too vast.
Volkman realized it only when his vision filled with Edward's blade.
What came after was brutally anticlimactic.
Before Edward could strike, Volkman ended himself with his own pistol.
One ship of the line and one scout ship sank into the cold depths.
The One-Armed Hand Pirates had just three ships left.
Rock, losing all reason, hacked wildly at his own men in a rage before snapping back to himself.
"You wanna see this through to the end, huh."
He heaved ragged breaths and slumped into the captain's chair.
The Seven Seats of the Yellow River? Fuck that.
With half their fleet gone, it was a lost cause.
Time to go back to basics.
Before building his force, when the name "Rock" struck pure terror.
It stemmed from his worldview.
The strong devour the weak—that was survival of the fittest.
To Rock, "pirate" meant only the strong.
He slammed open the map.
And drove his dagger deep into the spot marked Lusha Village.
"Edward, I'll turn your turf to ashes first."
Blood demands blood.
Victory didn't matter anymore.
Rock was a pirate to his bones.