Roya let out a quiet sigh. He knew that this line of defense could no longer hold; it was impossible to keep the enemy outside the planet any longer.
Not because he lacked the power to resist. Difficult though it would be, he could, by sheer attrition, wear down and annihilate this entire legion of Necron Praetorians.
But this war was not his war alone—it was the war of the entire Pirate World.
The warriors of Pirate Star were not without the ability to fight the Necron legions. If Roya were to shoulder every battle by himself, never allowing these fighters and civilians to be tempered by war…
Then what would happen in the future, when he led expeditions across the Sea of Stars, and another Necron ca to raid their ho?
Only if Pirate Star itself possessed the strength to defend against invasion, even while Roya made his na across the cosmic void, could their world be kept safe from harm.
With a thought, Roya drew back his spiritual sense like a receding tide. The do-shaped shield dissolved with it.
The attacks of ten thousand Necron Praetorians suddenly struck nothing but air. They staggered, then plunged into the atmosphere, trailing streaks of sickly necro-green flas like a host of cursed cots heralding dire ons, crashing toward the surface below!
From orbit, those Necron Warriors whom Roya had not yet refined seized the opportunity. Reforging their shattered bodies, they hurled themselves after the Praetorians, falling together in a cataclysmic storm.
The number of surviving warriors was still no less than a million!
They automatically divided into ten thousand squads of a hundred each, linking their consciousness with the Praetorian leading each squad.
Ten thousand squads, each under a Praetorian commander, descended to unleash a war of total extermination!
This was the Necron dynasty's standard strategy for high-intensity battlefields.
Thousands of squads would pierce and shatter the enemy formations. With the unstoppable Praetorians leading and the fearless Warriors at their side, the enemy would be carved into countless isolated pockets—then annihilated in detail through overwhelming unit superiority.
Such strategy was devastating, irresistible, invincible.
As Roya withdrew his spiritual sense, the golden pillar of light that had shot skyward from the Flower City faded. Yet the warriors and militia felt no panic.
For Roya now appeared above the Flower City itself!
Shrouded in a gentle radiance of gold, he hovered at the highest point of the world, watching over them like a god descending upon the mortal realm.
Whitebeard raised his head to the heavens. In his eyes, as he gazed at the green-burning teors raining down, burned infinite battlelust.
He roared aloud:
"Children! The first battle of our voyage toward the Sea of Stars has co!"
"Ten combat divisions—each of you pick out one enemy squad. And whichever division takes the longest to wipe them out, from the captain on down, you can look forward to scrubbing my decks for the rest of your lives!"
Armored head-to-toe in starship-grade bio-tal, Marco, Vista, and the other division commanders answered with thunderous voices, their hundred-strong companies of elite pirates roaring behind them, spirits blazing.
The Whitebeard Pirates' combat divisions, once sixteen in number, had been pared down to ten. Fewer in count, but their strength had multiplied a thousandfold!
Their armor was uniformly painted in deepest black, with only the great Whitebeard insignia emblazoned across their chests.
Upon each commander's helm was engraved a unique sigil, marking their division's character—Marco's helm bore the form of a blue phoenix, while Vista's was etched with a vivid violet rose.
Thus had the Sea of Stars version of the Whitebeard Pirates taken shape!
No one doubted that if given a single warship, they could sail the galaxy itself, bringing endless suffering to the tyrannical Necrons and delivering hope of liberation to worlds long enslaved and harvested.
On another front, Kaido too rallied his forces.
His pirate crew had undergone even harsher selection. From the tens of thousands who once filled Onigashima, they had been cut down to a bare hundred.
Now they were a true Beast Pirates.
Led by the three great Calamities—King the Wildfire, Queen the Plague, Jack the Drought—every warrior within this hundred was the pinnacle of strength, each one bearing power equal to the mightiest champions.
Each and every one wore bio-tallic armor, but theirs had been customized to match their beastly Zoan forms.
Kaido's own helm sprouted a pair of azure dragon horns.
Jack the Drought bore upon his shoulders two colossal mammoth tusks.
The whole formation exuded a savage, prival aura—brutal, barbaric, and yet so compelling that eyes could not look away.
Bio-tal beasts—powerful, domineering, unstoppable.
"Brats! Split up and fight. If any of you haven't crushed at least three of those big bastards, don't you dare call yourself Beast Pirates!"
By "big bastards," of course, he ant the Necron Praetorians.
For Kaido's pride would settle for nothing less than challenging the hardest prey.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
A hundred and one bio-tal beasts bellowed their crude but indomitable war cry in unison!
Elsewhere, Kidd, Killer, Law, and the other Supernovas had assembled their own Supernova Legion.
Thanks to their ties with Roya, they already regarded themselves as part of the world's standing army. In both organizational structure and military discipline, they held themselves to the highest standard.
Their armor was painted crimson, with the emblem of a pair of pure white wings outstretched across their chests.
According to ancient legend, such wings only grew upon the backs of the battle-angels who stood at the side of the Supre God-Emperor.
This insignia made plain the Supernova Legion's attitude toward Roya.
Battle-angels guarding their God-Emperor.
Now, each Supernova commanded a thousand elite legionaries, coordinating with the various naval combat units, fortifying the cities, ready at any mont to fight in Roya's na.
As for the countless pirates who had been rejected by the three great legions, they had thrown themselves wholesale into the Buggy Express Company, under Buggy's command.
They wore lighter armor, thinner and less comprehensive in its protection—for in full heavy armor, these misfits could barely walk, let alone fight.
Seemingly aimless as they darted through the city, in truth these couriers bore an indispensable role: the lubricant of the battlefield.
Buggy had long since given the order. Wherever a gap appeared in the defenses, they were to throw themselves into it without hesitation, to stall the enemy's advance with their lives, buying precious ti for the main forces to regroup and reinforce.
Like their leader Buggy himself, they might seem to fall apart at the first blow—but in truth they were steady as old dogs, and cunning beyond asure!
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