aircannonsinc Chapter 103: Not a General
Chapter 103: Not a General
Chapter 104: Not a General
The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy, and burnt smell, swept along the coast of this devil's island.
Zefa stood at the edge of the dock, the hood of his dark robe removed, revealing his sharp, short purple hair.
A group of naval soldiers, numbering several hundred, stood before him, their ranks ranging from petty officers to majors.
These people were all pale-faced, some had blood on their hands, and some had torn uniforms, but without exception, their eyes were darting around.
"Put down your weapons."
Zefa's voice was so clear it was jarring.
The soldiers didn't move. The major standing at the front gritted his teeth and gripped his saber tightly.
There was a new wound near his eye, and blood was flowing down his cheek to his chin, dripping onto the collar of his uniform.
"General Zephyr————"
The major spoke, his voice hoarse: "This is treason."
"First, I did not accept the awarding ceremony of the general."
"Secondly, I have already left the World Government's navy."
Zefa's expression remained unchanged: "Put down your weapons, get on the ship, and leave this place."
"You think this will solve everything—"
"Major Ronald."
Zephyr interrupted him. He remembered the young man's name; he had seen him three years ago at the G-2 branch. Back then, he was a lieutenant who had been seriously injured while chasing a group of pirates who were plundering merchant ships. Even while lying in his hospital bed, he was still asking if the pirates had been caught.
"What did you swear to protect when you enlisted?"
Major Ronald opened his mouth, but couldn't answer immediately. The soldiers behind him began to stir, and some loosened their grip on their guns.
Zefa didn't wait for his answer, but turned to the side and raised his arm, pointing towards the depths of the island.
In that direction, black smoke billowed above the gray buildings, and the firelight cast a dark red glow on the low-hanging clouds.
On the beach closer by, several people in medic uniforms were carrying the wounded onto a small, temporarily requisitioned transport boat.
"Look at what you've been protecting."
Zephat said, "Look what you've done."
Major Ronald looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a huge gap in the barbed wire fence on the other side of the dock, behind which was a crowd of people huddled together.
Most of those people were dressed in rags, many had injuries, some were carrying children, and some were helping the elderly.
They were being led onto several larger cargo ships by the naval soldiers who offered no resistance upon seeing Garp and Jaffa.
"I----"
Major Ronald's knife clattered to the ground.
That first sound was like flipping a switch, followed by a second, then a third—the sounds of rifles, knives, and batons.
Weapons were thrown onto the wooden planks of the dock.
Some people even started taking off their coats, tearing off their navy uniform shirts, crumpling them up, and throwing them into the sea.
"Get on the ship," Zephyr repeated.
"Head west. I've restricted the ship's power. You should be able to reach the waters around Enies Lobby in three days."
His light swept across these faces, young or no longer young.
"Mr. Zephyr."
A corporal suddenly spoke up; he looked no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, with freckles on his face: "Where are you going?"
Zefa looked at him: "Go where you're supposed to go."
"May I go with you?"
The question was direct. Zephyr didn't answer immediately; he looked at the others.
Some people lowered their heads, some turned their faces away, but a few people raised their heads, and something lit up in their eyes again.
"Those who want to come, get on that blue and white striped cargo ship."
Zefa finally said, "Once you arrive at your destination on that ship, someone will tell you what to do next."
"That----"
Major Ronald asked in a hoarse voice, "What are we? Deserters? Or—"
Zephyr turned away, no longer looking at them: "You were coerced by me, Zephyr, and Garp. Your weapons were confiscated, your ship was stolen, and you barely managed to escape. Remember this, it can save your lives."
He finished speaking and left, returning to the group of hosts.
Major Ronald stood there, watching the direction where Zefa's figure disappeared, without moving for a long time.
He didn't come to his senses until someone tugged at his sleeve. He bent down, picked up the military knife from the ground, and threw it forcefully into the sea.
The sound of the knife falling into the water was very soft, and it was quickly swallowed by the waves.
The scene in the central area of the island was far more devastating than at the dock.
The three long, gray buildings were completely engulfed in flames. The iron structures groaned as they cracked under the intense heat, and charred debris kept falling from the roofs.
Garp emerged from a partially collapsed building, his right fist stained with someone else's blood. He shook his hand, sending droplets of blood flying that traced dark red arcs in the firelight before landing on the scorched ground.
All around were the sounds of burning flames and shouts coming from the distant dock.
Garp stepped over a section of burnt beam. Underneath the beam was a person wearing the standard CP suit, face down, the fabric of his back soaked in blood, making it impossible to tell whether he was dead or alive.
Garp flipped the person over with his toes. He was very young, probably not even twenty years old, with blood at the corner of his mouth and his eyes tightly closed.
Garp remembered this kid; he had just tried to use Shave to sneak up behind him and then slapped him against the wall, knocking down a brick wall.
"If you had joined the Navy, you'd be lucky to be alive today. Unfortunately, you didn't."
Garp muttered something, then stomped his foot as if he had crushed an ant.
He walked out of the ruins and came to the relatively open central area of the complex. There were more than a dozen marines there, all still alive, who had been salvaged from various ruins by Garp and piled together.
A naval captain struggled to get up, his left arm twisted and his face covered in blood and ash.
Seeing Garp approach, he instinctively reached for the holster on his back, but it was empty; the gun was nowhere to be found.
Save your breath.
Karp knelt down in front of him: "Can you still walk?"
The captain stared at him, his eyes filled with anger, fear, but mostly confusion: "Lieutenant General Garp—why?"
Why?
Garp grinned, but there was no warmth in his smile: "Then tell me, why did you keep those people locked up here? Why did you use poison gas? Why did you throw people into the sea like garbage?"
"That was an order."
"Order?"
Garp punched the captain in the head, not with much force, but enough to make the latter wince in pain.
"If you can move, climb to the dock yourself."
Garp stood up: "If you can't climb, just lie here. Someone will come and get you in a bit. As for the future—"
He looked down at the young man who was probably only a few years younger than himself.
"Use your brain in the future and think about why you joined the Navy in the first place."
He finished speaking and left, heading towards the last remaining intact building in the area.
The building had only two floors, and the windows were sealed with iron plates. Two naval soldiers stood at the door.
When the two soldiers saw Karp, they stood at attention and saluted, their movements as precise as if they were still on the Marineford parade grounds.
"Lieutenant General Garp! Admiral Zeff said he's in the innermost room on the second floor."
One of the soldiers reported loudly.
"He's not a general," Garp corrected, then pushed open the door and went inside.