The Marine ship, now helplessly drifting in the aftermath of the Solar Rift Pirates' victory, groaned and creaked with every crashing wave. Darkness had set in, enveloping the one-time great vessel in a chill shadow. Onetime bustling decks were deathly silent, except for the infrequent muttering of the few surviving Marines. Their uniforms were ragged, their faces wearied and filled with fear.
Below on the lower deck, Lieutenant Orin leaned against the cold steel wall, his back to the metal, his hand pressed over the gash in his side. His breathing was light, the pain of his wounds nothing compared to the crushing weight of his failure. The Marines had failed. And he was responsible.
"How did this occur?" he muttered to himself, looking at the dead and wounded soldiers strewn about him, some unconscious, others too dazed to move. "We were supposed to take care of a band of pirates, not. not this."
The Lieutenant's head was spinning like a storm. His mind was unable to wrap around the enormity of what had just happened. How had they been defeated so thoroughly? How had a crew of what seemed like average pirates outmaneuvered the Marine forces so decisively?
His train of thought was interrupted by the ring of clanging footsteps. Captain Zephros, a tall, rumpled man, came toward him, his boots clanging ominously against the metal surface. Captain Zephros was a seasoned officer with a reputation for being able to handle tough situations, but now his typically steely eyes were clouded with frustration.
"Orin," Zephros spoke in a low, even tone. "What the devil went on out there?"
Orin didn't respond immediately, his gaze down at the ground as if he could find some answer there. The silence hung for a long, long time before he looked up at last into Zephros' eyes.
"I. I don't know, sir," Orin admitted, his voice trembling a little. "We believed they were just another group of weak pirates. The type we could handle with ease. But they. they weren't anything like pirates I've ever encountered before."
Zephros's brow shot up, his gaze piercing. "Tell me."
Orin took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. "We didn't account for them. I thought we could take them out with a handful of men, but they had speed, coordination… and brute strength that we hadn't counted on. The way they fought, it was like they had trained to fight together. They were always one step ahead, expecting every move, every blow. It was like they were expecting our minds."
Zephros listened sternly, hand clenched into a fist at his side. "You mean a pirate crew outnumbers a full Marine detachment?" he asked, the incredulity in his voice offset by worry.
"I know it sounds unbelievable, sir," replied Orin, shaking his head, "but that's what occurred. We were outnumbered, plain and simple."
The Captain walked to the diminutive table on which a chart of the seacapes they surrounded rested. His fingers traced the lines, tracing over the Grand Line, his thoughts elsewhere. A protracted silence afterward, he faced back to Orin.
"You should've asked for reinforcement," Zephros sneered, his voice growing colder now, his fury escalating. "Why didn't you?"
Orin flinched, his shame weighing upon him. "I… I didn't expect it to be that bad. I thought I could keep them in line. But by the time I realized how powerful they were, too late. The Marines couldn't keep up with them. I didn't know what to do…"
Zephros took a deep breath, fighting to keep his anger under control. "You'll have to answer for that, Orin," he whispered. "But at least we need to determine what we do next. We can't simply drop this."
Orin nodded, his head hung down in embarrassment. "What do we do, sir?"
Zephros looked out the window, out at the dark horizon. "We'll have to go back to headquarters. This pirate crew is no small threat. But we can't let them get away scot-free. They may have underestimated us, but now they know who they're dealing with. We'll have to reform, consider our options, and then chase them down again."
"But they were so strong, sir," said Orin, his voice full of doubt. "What if we can't defeat them next time?"
Zephros whirled round, his eyes stern and unyielding. "We will. But we have to be ready. If there is one thing that we've learned today, it is that we cannot underestimate them anymore. Next time, we will be ready."
The Marines' Defeat
Down on the deck below, the leftovers of the Marine troops were continuing to reorganize. There was a solemn mood, and the air was electric. Men who once proudly stood under the World Government's flag now leaned in defeat, some bandaging wounds, others dazed by what had just happened. The formerly immaculate uniforms of the Marines now sported dirt, blood, and saltwater stains.
Sergeant Larn, one of the handful of surviving soldiers, stood in a corner of the room with his eyes fixed on the ground in shock. He had been a member of the Marines for over ten years, had participated in so many wars, but had never had to deal with a crew like the Solar Rift Pirates. The way they moved, the way they fought—it had been almost a nightmare. Despite everything they did, the pirates seemed one step ahead of them. Even the most seasoned Marines had not been able to find a mark.
"They were faster than I could have ever believed," Larn muttered to himself, massaging his sore arms. "It wasn't that they were powerful. It was how they worked together—like they'd been doing it for years as a team."
His mind kept returning to the recollection of Solian, the captain of the crew. The man also moved like lightning, every movement he made possessing some degree of precision and strength that shouldn't have existed in someone as young as he seemed to be. And his Devil Fruit abilities. the control of energy and speed, it was something that no one from Larn's island had ever witnessed before. The fire in his eyes, the way he commanded his crew—it made him feel as though they were facing a force of nature, not just a pirate.
"I'll give them this," Larn muttered to no one in particular. "They're not your average pirates. Those guys are dangerous."
The Lieutenant's Reflection
Orin sat alone in his quarters now, the soft light of a single lamp casting deep shadows on the space. He no longer ached, but the crushing feeling of defeat still pressed down on him. He couldn't push aside the recollections of the battle—the way Solar Rift Pirates had dispersed his troops, the way they marched with such horrible efficiency.
"They were more powerful than we thought," Orin said to himself, his voice little more than a whisper. "But next time. next time, we'll be ready."
He looked down at his trembling hands, the battle adrenaline still running through them. The Marines were supposed to be the force of the world, the invulnerable shield against chaos. Now, they looked like they were the ones who needed protecting.
The battle had shown him one thing—he had underestimated the Solar Rift Pirates. And that mistake, he realized, could cost him his career, his reputation. even his life.
"I won't make that mistake again," Orin vowed quietly. "Next time, we'll be ready."