"Artillery fire! Artillery fire! High-angle barrage! Bombard the entire combat zone according to the 'Beast Trap' operation—let no one escape!" Ten warships began to disperse. Their turrets, capable of rotation and even limited anti-air fire, adjusted for a plunging trajectory that would arc over nearly the entire island, blanketing even the opposite shore in destruction.
Vice Admiral Doberman barked orders relentlessly as the ceaseless bombardnt continued. The warships' payloads were imnse—judging by glimpses of Marineford's scale, each vessel could easily carry over a thousand Marines. The Going rry had once looked like an ant beneath their towering hulls. These ships were true leviathans of the sea.
And now, with the Buster Call unleashed upon the massive island of Lantis, every last shell would be expended. If necessary, nearby bases would resupply them to continue the annihilation until nothing remained. This was the true horror of the Buster Call: overwhelming, indiscriminate military force.
"Vice Admiral! Monsters are attacking from the sea!"
"What are the Marines on board for?! You're all elite troops—eliminate all obstacles!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Our objective is the total destruction of Lantis Island. Admiral Kizaru is handling Crocodile personally, so we must execute our purge thoroughly," another Vice Admiral aboard a separate ship stated coldly. So of these officers had conducted multiple Buster Calls; they knew the precise thods to erase an island. The two smaller outlying islands had rely been warm-up exercises.
On the remaining outposts, Marines and civilians watched in mute terror as Lantis was pumled by endless artillery. The fates of Frans and Sasu Islands had left them too terrified to even breathe—lest they be next.
Rosen landed on Lantis, now a blazing inferno. His first visit had shown him a wasteland; this was far worse.
Roars echoed as zombies not yet destroyed by the flas thrashed in the firestorm—a literal hellscape. Where Rosen stepped, sandstorms erupted, extinguishing flas and shredding any undead that lunged at him.
"Are all the Lantians dead?" Rosen's expression darkened. He'd skirted half the coastline without finding a single survivor. Logically, if they'd pursued the Marines earlier, they wouldn't have retreated so quickly—even in defeat, so should have remained as lookouts. Yet there was no trace.
Either they'd withdrawn inland or been obliterated by the bombardnt. Rosen entered a still-intact underground passage, aiming for Ming City. But the tunnels were choked with smoke from explosions. While harmless to a Logia like him, any normal human would suffocate. Collapses riddled the pathways—just a few dozen ters of rubble would trap anyone without special abilities.
"Surely they weren't foolish enough to stay in Ming City?" Rosen frowned, unease prickling at the thought of Natalie possibly being dead. Was the Buster Call truly purging demons—or were the ones wielding it the real monsters?
A sound cut through the inferno—breathing. Not zombies, not explosions. Human gasps and moans. Rosen dissolved into sand, streaking toward the source.
Queen Hathaway, whose eyes had never known tears, now wept openly. Mortally wounded, she could barely move without risking death. "Enough... just go. No one... is indispensable," she whispered, each word a struggle.
"Protecting our Queen is our duty!" In a clearing, dozens of warriors ford a human ring around her, interlocking arms with backs turned outward as shells rained down.
They'd fought tirelessly at first, deflecting artillery and smothering flas. But the Marines' relentless barrage had whittled them down. Over 90% now lay motionless on the ground. The few dozen left, though powerful, could no longer muster the strength to repel attacks. Their final act was this living shield—absorbing every impact to protect their immobilized ruler.
Had they obeyed Hathaway's order to abandon her and retreat to the Ninth Garden, most would have survived. But they'd refused. Now, as another warrior collapsed from shrapnel wounds, the circle shrank further. It was only a matter of ti.
Hathaway lay helpless, watching her people die for her. Death ant little to her—it was her destiny. But their sacrifices were unbearable. "Go!" she rasped, her voice lost under another explosion. A shell struck the defenders' backs, splitting flesh yet failing to topple them. If they fell, the circle would break.
Flas licked at their uniforms, searing skin but not yet lethal. They no longer had the strength to extinguish them.
As Hathaway's vision dimd, fury surged—Lantis had no place in this world. No rcy. Not even a sliver. She wanted to scream her rage, but couldn't. Even that simple act was beyond her.
Rosen arrived just as two more warriors collapsed. Then he saw Hathaway at the center. His scalp prickled, mind reeling.
They'd chosen to die for their queen? Using their bodies as shields against artillery and fire? How? This sight would haunt him forever, shaking him to his core.
Never had he witnessed such overwhelming loyalty—such sheer force of will in a single person.
(End of Chapter)
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