Naval Battle Dragon Pirates

[Kaka]

Dragon Pirates​

The Dragon Pirates are an overwhelmingly powerful pirate crew that is next in line for becoming a Yonkou Pirate Crew. They sail around on a massive ship. Despite their great power, it seems like they are not evil. They are adventurous. But, their individual fighting strength is what makes them a great threat to the World Government.

NPCs:

Captain Ichiryu (Bounty: 1,450,000,000):

90 x 5 = 450
- STR: 78 (Race: +18, MA: +5) = 101
- SPE: 78 (Race: +18, MA: +5) = 101

- Movement: 101​

- Reaction: 101​

- VIT: 78 (Race: +18, MA: +5) = 101

- Stamina: 101​

- Durability: 101​

- Martial Arts: 73 (Race: +27) = 100

- Swordsmanship: 100​

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100 (Item: + 20) = 120​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

First Mate Gildarts (Bounty: 900,000,000):

85 x 5 = 425
- STR: 79 (Race: +16, MA: +5, Item: +20) = 120
- SPE: 80 (Race: +16, MA: +5) = 101

- Movement: 101​

- Reaction: 101​

- VIT: 79 (Race: +16, MA: +5) = 100

- Stamina: 100 (Item: +20) = 120​

- Durability: 100​

- Martial Arts: 76 (Race: +24) = 100

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: 100​

- Life Return: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kebun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Musician Dracula (Bounty: 400,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Martial Arts: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Swordsmanship: 100​

- Music Kata: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100 ​

Cook Charon (Bounty: 350,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Martial Arts: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: 100​

- Cooking Kata: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Helmsman Orca (Bounty: 300,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Martial Arts: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Fishman Karate: 100​

- Fishman Jujitsu: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Dogmatika (Bounty: 250,000,000):

75 x 5 = 375
- STR: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81
- SPE: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Movement: 81​

- Reaction: 81​

- VIT: 62 (Race: +14, MA: +5) = 81

- Stamina: 81​

- Durability: 81​

- Cyborg: 79 (Race: +21) = 100

- Destruction: 100​

- Armoring: 100 (Item: +20) = 120​

- Energy: 100​

- Utility: 100​

- Haki: 100

- Busou-shoku no Haki: 100​

- Kenbun-shoku no Haki: 100​

Crew members (500):

25 x 5 = 125
- STR: 33 (Race: +4) =37
- SPE: 33 (Race: +4) =37

- Movement: 37​

- Reaction: 37​

- VIT: 29 (Race: +4)

- Stamina: 33​

- Durability: 33​

- Martial Arts: 30 (Race: +6) = 36

- Swordsmanship: 36​

- Marksmanship: 36​

 

[Kaka]

One-time Beri reward: 900 million Beri

 

[Gambit]

The sea roared like a beast possessed, crashing against the jagged rocks of an uncharted island where black clouds loomed heavy overhead. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it was the silence that cut deepest. No drums. No war cries. Just the wind howling as if the world itself sensed what had come ashore.

A faint distortion shimmered near the treeline—then, a single figure stepped through the mist. No flashy entrance, no unnecessary flair. Just precision. Intent.

Hagiri Kaname had arrived.

His coat fluttered like a specter’s banner behind him, the crimson hue stained faintly from missions past. Eyes sharp, gaze forward. No need for words. The crunch of his boots over gravel echoed like a death knell to those who dared to stand in his path. Somewhere on this island, the Dragon Pirates stirred—new leadership, new hunger, same defiance.

And Hagiri? He didn’t come to negotiate. He came to measure monsters.

The game had changed. And the Sniper was already counting bodies.

 

[Aro]

The Dragon Pirates: Monsters Don't Flinch #1
@Gambit

The fog clung low to the earth, coiling between broken trees and shattered stone like a serpent hunting silence. Ashen soil still smoldered where fire had touched it—remnants of a recent clash, or perhaps just the wake of giants making landfall.

They had already come ashore.

Scattered across the island’s blackened ridges and moss-choked ruins were footprints too deep for ordinary men. Trees split at the trunk. Boulder formations sundered clean. These were not signs of a siege. This was a claim.

The Dragon Pirates were already here.

Beneath a toppled statue of a forgotten deity, Gildarts crouched, dragging a finger through the dirt where blood had dried. His golden gauntlet clenched as he stood, staring through the veil of mist toward the disturbance in the treeline.

“He’s here,” he said.

Perched high on a stone obelisk, Dracula sheathed his blade with a soft click. He spoke like a man reading a poem to the dead. “One man walking into a graveyard, thinking himself the undertaker.”

A low metallic hum signaled Dogmatika’s presence. He stepped from the ruin’s shadow, servos purring beneath his trench-like armor. “Thermal silhouette. Single hostile. Suppressing pulse rate. Calculating fire vector.” A brief pause. “...It’s him.”

Further downslope, in the ruins of an old naval outpost, Charon had already prepared a firepit. He stirred a stew with his cleaver, licking rain from his tusk as his nostrils flared.
“Tell the sniper to come hungry,” he growled. “I’ve got more than bones in this broth.”

And in the tidepools where salt met shadow, Orca rose from the shallows, water streaming down the ridges of his inhuman frame. No words. Just the slow exhale of breath held too long.

Then came the crunch of boots. Not theirs.

They all felt it—the disturbance. Like the click of a rifle chamber behind your ear.

Gildarts turned toward the mist.
“You came to measure monsters, didn’t you?”

The mist parted just slightly. Enough for all of them to feel him. Not see—feel.

He wasn’t the first to step onto their turf thinking he could rewrite legend. But the Dragon Pirates didn’t fear legends.

They wrote them.

And in the stillness before the storm returned, Gildarts cracked his neck and grinned like a man who’d just heard the bell ring.

“Alright then, Sniper. Let’s see if your aim’s better than your judgment.”​

 

[Gambit]

The air thickened like a drawn breath, then froze.

No reply echoed back through the mist. No snark. No threat. Just a glint—barely a shimmer—somewhere between the fractured stone and the sway of broken pine.

Then click—the soft, mechanical reset of a high-precision rifle. Somewhere high, above the line of sight. Not yet a challenge. A declaration.

“You’ve felt my presence. That’s enough.”

Kaname stood still beneath the ragged edge of a jagged cliff, a figure barely outlined by the ambient light bleeding through the fog. One eye narrowed, finger loose against the trigger guard, his gaze dissecting the terrain like a surgeon’s blade. He didn’t blink.

His monologue came not in words—but in silence measured by intent.

They think I walked into a graveyard...
Let them.
I don’t bury legends. I erase them.

A breeze cut through the air, brushing past the old statues, rusted armor, and shattered remnants of gods long dead. In that breath, Dogmatika’s HUD momentarily scrambled. Orca’s senses twitched. Dracula’s instinct kicked like a second heartbeat.

They were being watched.

And yet, no eyes were seen. No breath heard. Just the weight of precision—of inevitability.

From his vantage, Kaname studied the ruins like a map of potential endings. Footprints. Blood. Fire. Good. It meant they bled.

Gildarts' voice echoed up the ridge—defiant, amused. “Alright then, Sniper. Let’s see if your aim’s better than your judgment.”

A single casing dropped somewhere behind the wind. It hadn’t been fired. It didn’t need to be. Not yet. “You’ll know when I miss. The world won’t exist anymore.”

Then he vanished—blending with the storm.

The hunt had begun.

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #2
@Gambit

The casing hadn’t dropped far—just enough to leave a sound in its wake. A whisper of metal against stone. Yet it echoed like a prophecy.

And still, no shot came.

Not a bullet. Not a move. Just the weight of a hunter pressing down on a field of giants. Back at the outpost, Charon stirred the stew once, twice, then set the ladle down. He stood, the fire’s glow dancing against the heavy cooking cleaver strapped across his back like a butcher’s greatsword.

“No shot?” he grunted. “He’s smarter than he looks.”

Orca crouched along the water’s edge, hands half-submerged in the shallows. The ocean around his forearms boiled—not from heat, but tension. He didn’t speak, but his eyes scanned the treeline. He wasn’t looking for Kaname.

He was listening for the change in the water.

Dogmatika twitched. A low hum pulsed behind his visor as new readings scrolled across his HUD. “He’s adjusting his position. Small shift. Wind alignment. Line of sight recalibrated. He’s not waiting to strike—he’s recording.” From his perch, Dracula exhaled like a man letting go of the past.

“A scholar of violence,” he said. “Or a painter who uses blood instead of oil.”

Below him, Gildarts ran a hand through his soaked hair. “I’ve heard of him. Never seen the real deal until now.” He squinted toward the high ridge where the casing fell. “Doesn’t need to shoot. Just wants us to know he could.”

“He picked the wrong legends,” Charon growled, cracking his knuckles. “I’m not some tale to be read out loud. I’m a damn warning label.”

But Dogmatika raised a hand. “No sudden moves. He’s watching for overreaction. He doesn’t want chaos. He wants predictable response.”

“You’re saying we don’t play?” Gildarts asked.

“I’m saying... we breathe. Make him think we’re colder than he is.”

Dracula clicked his sword back out of its sheath slightly, then in again. “Let him haunt the trees. When the storm hits, he’ll learn something important.”

Orca finally rose from the surf. His voice rolled out like a low wave: “You can watch the ocean for a thousand years… but that won’t stop the tide.”

They didn’t scatter. They didn’t retreat. And they sure as hell didn’t act like prey. Each Dragon Pirate moved—just enough. Not retreating, but repositioning. Angles, shadows, high ground. Gildarts climbed higher into the ruins. Dogmatika activated passive counter-measures. Charon hauled the stew cauldron closer to the center of camp like it was bait. Orca vanished into the mangroves. Dracula simply smiled.

Let the sniper measure. Because the Dragon Pirates had measured him too. And when the first true move was made, they wouldn’t be running.

They’d be waiting.​

 

[Gambit]

A breeze swept through the treetops—gentle, natural—except it wasn’t.

It was the slipstream of movement.

Not fast. Not loud. But deliberate. The kind of shift that only people like them could notice. Gildarts paused mid-step. Orca’s breath hitched. Dogmatika’s HUD jittered for 0.6 seconds before recalibrating. Dracula blinked once—calculating, not startled.

And from somewhere far above, nestled in the folds of mist and foliage, a voice moved through the wind, low and razor-clean. Not spoken aloud, not even amplified—but heard all the same.

“You don't make legends by surviving.
You make them by deciding who doesn't.”

Kaname didn't aim.

He traced.

He watched vectors form between their slight adjustments. Measured every breath Dracula inhaled, the weight Charon shifted on one foot, the moment Gildarts blinked before climbing, the slight splash as Orca disappeared into brine.

They repositioned.
Good.
Let them dance.
I already wrote the rhythm.

One gloved hand flicked a panel on his custom scope—mildot reticle sharpening like a scalpel under moonlight. A new icon blinked on. Multi-Vector Prediction Pathing Enabled. The rifle never moved.

Below, Charon's stew hissed. That meant heat. Heat meant vapor. Vapor meant visibility.

Kaname marked it. Logged it. Left it.

You call it bait. I call it a marker.
Thanks for the lighting, chef.

He moved again—sideways through the high canopy like a ghost who understood elevation was language. Never where they expected. Not once where he had been.

And yet the pressure remained. On all of them.

A presence like the pause before a gunshot—held indefinitely.

Then, just as suddenly…

Nothing.

No pressure. No sound. Not even the trees shifted.

He was gone.

Until a single feather-light ping echoed behind Dogmatika—a shell casing, curved and flattened, dropped neatly onto the cracked stone behind his left heel. It hadn’t come from a shot.

It had come from his blind spot.

Etched into its side, in precise, scorched lines:

“I see you.”

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #3
@Gambit

Dogmatika didn’t flinch. Atleast not visibly. But deep within his reinforced frame, diagnostic subroutines screamed. For 0.3 seconds, his systems were at war with themselves—combat reflexes urging movement, protocol demanding composure.

He stared at the casing.

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t fresh. That made it worse.

Gildarts descended from his perch with a new tension in his shoulders. Not fear. Calculation. “He was behind you,” he said, voice low, almost amused. “How the hell did a rifleman get behind you?”

Dogmatika scanned the ridgeline again, slower this time. “He didn’t move through blind spots. He created them. Using our own movements. Our assumptions.”

Charon was already on the move, stew forgotten. “I'm tired of this. You can’t cook with a phantom watching your fire.”

“Then don’t cook,” came Dracula’s dry reply, as he watched the treetops from beneath the hood of his tattered cloak. “You’ll only feed the myth.”

Gildarts picked up the casing with two fingers, turning it in the mistlight. The words “I see you” weren’t taunt or challenge. They were declaration.

“He’s mapping us,” he muttered. “No bullets. No blood. Just... understanding. That’s what this is. A dissection.”

Orca emerged from the surf again, quiet and dripping, his inhuman eyes narrowed toward the canopy where the breeze had last broken. “He’s not measuring for weakness,” he said in a guttural whisper. “He’s measuring discipline.”

Dracula’s lips curved at that.

“Which means he hasn’t decided yet if we’re beasts to slay—or comrades worth letting live.”

That hung in the air like a suspended blade.

Dogmatika finally spoke again, voice flat, mechanical, but tighter than before. “Tactical consensus: he doesn’t intend to engage until we misstep.”

“Then we won’t,” Gildarts replied simply. He turned, tossing the shell back onto the stone like a coin returned to the ferryman. “Let him watch.”

Charon growled low. “And what if he gets bored?”

Dracula’s smile darkened. “Then he shoots. And we find out how well legends bleed.”

Gildarts looked toward the eastern cliffs, toward the spot he thought Kaname might’ve perched earlier—no proof, no trail. Just instinct.

“Make no mistake,” he said, his voice lowering into command. “This isn’t over. This is the part before it starts. The sniper’s not here for blood.” He glanced back toward the rest. “He’s here for truth.”

The Dragon Pirates didn’t break formation. They didn’t chase shadows. They simply adjusted—like wolves circling firelight, knowing the hunter sat just beyond the glow. And somewhere above, in silence deeper than fog, Hagiri Kaname moved again—unseen, unfelt.

Still watching. Still choosing.​

 

[Gambit]

The stillness broke.

Not with sound.
Not with a warning.
But with absence—as if something vital had been ripped from the world without a trace.

Perched high above the mist-choked ruins, Kaname moved.

The first bullet slipped from the chamber silently, cloaked in the suffocating field of his Calm-Calm Fruit.
No sound, no pressure, no trace.
Even the mist parted only slightly, as if unsure something had passed through it.

The round shimmered in darkness, Armament Haki layered thin but lethal along its surface—an executioner’s signature.

Its path:
Dogmatika.

The shot ripped forward with unseen fury, cutting through the battlefield's oppressive tension like a ghost with purpose.

Before anyone could so much as blink—

Soru.

Kaname vanished, a faint disturbance against the treeline, moving with practiced precision.

Geppou.
A tap of air, a blur through fog, he surfaced on a shattered rooftop overlooking the outpost.

Second shot ready.

No time wasted. No theatrics.

Another Haki-imbued, soundless round snapped from the muzzle, targeting the figure near the firepit — Charon.

No roar of gunpowder. No whine of steel.
Just consequence.

And then silence reclaimed the mist once again.

From the hidden folds of broken stone and branches, Kaname’s voice floated out — low, sharp, surgical:

“Measured twice.”
“Cut once.”
“Let’s begin.”

From his new vantage, Kaname didn’t wait for the dust to settle.
Tiny claymores, no bigger than coins, had already been dropped during his earlier Soru dash — planted at choke points the Dragon Pirates would likely pass through.

As the first signs of pursuit stirred the mist—

Click.

A low-frequency blast, compressed and muted by his Calm-Calm field, erupted.
Not meant to kill — but to disorient. To shred footing.
Kaname was already moving again, a shifting shadow across the broken rooftops.

Another bullet loaded. Another death waiting its turn.

“Run faster.”
“Die slower.”

Spoiler: Stats

LEVEL 100 x 5 = 500

Strength: 61 (Race: +20, MA: 5, Nagi: +15) = 101
Speed: 76 (Race: +20, MA: +5) = 101
- Movement: 101
- Reaction: 101
Vitality: 73 (Race: +20, MA: +5) = 98
- Stamina: 101
- Durability: 95
MA: 100
- Gunslinging: 100 (Item: +20) = 120
- Rokushiki: 100 (Nagi: +20) = 120
- Poker Heat: 100 (Perk)
Nagi-Nagi no Mi: 100
Haki: 70 (Race: +30) = 100
- Off COA: 100
- Awareness COO: 100
+20 Fighting Style: 20

Spoiler: Bullets

120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level (Each)

Spoiler: Tech Used

Mute Echo: The user can project concentrated waves of silence towards their opponents with a flick/snap of his fingers affecting a certain target area or by imbuing it into his bullets to land in a certain target area, temporarily depriving them of their ability to hear anything outside that radius.
- Unranked, requires 81 Nagi-Nagi no Mi

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #4
@Gambit

The silence was unnatural. Dense. Smothering. The Dragon Pirates stood ready, muscles tensed, eyes cutting through mist like blades.
Waiting. And then—

Spoiler: Dura vs DPR

DPR: 120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level
Dogmatika Durability: 101-119: 6. City Level
Result: DPR 2 or more higher than dura: super effective

Dogmatika staggered.

No crack. No flare. Just a sudden, brutal impact as something tore through the mechanical giant's chestplate. A bloom of scorched metal and fractured alloy burst out from the wound, and Dogmatika dropped to one knee with a heavy crunch of stone beneath him.

"System... breach..." his voice rasped through static, no longer the cold, unshakable tone they knew. His HUD flickered wildly, one eye dimming. Gildarts was already moving, crossing toward him—but Dogmatika raised a hand, halting him.

"Don’t..." The words were thick, broken by failing power nodes. "Priority... escape... protocol... initiated."

One final twitch—his energy core, split clean down the center, gave out with a fizz of dying current.

Dogmatika's frame slumped sideways onto the broken ground. Dead. Gone. The mist pulsed tighter around them. Orca let out a low, furious snarl, flexing the barbs along his arms.

"Sniper," Dracula growled under his breath. "High elevation. Still moving."

Charon was halfway to flipping the firepit for cover when the second bullet found him.

Spoiler: Durability vs DPR

Kaname's DPR: 120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level
Charon's Durability: 81-100: 5. Town Level
Result: DPR 2 or more higher than dura: super effective

A sharp crack of torn flesh and splintered bone, Charon jerked violently, the round punching through his shoulder and spinning him halfway around. He hit the ground hard, gasping, blood already soaking into the damp stones. Gildarts reacted first, dragging Charon behind a toppled column without hesitation. "Move! MOVE!" he barked.

The Dragon Pirates scattered, the way only seasoned predators can—separating instinctively, making themselves harder targets. But Kaname had anticipated it. The ground shivered underfoot—

Click.

A muted whumpf rolled through the mist, and suddenly Orca was hurled backwards as a blast cracked the paving stones near him, sending chunks of debris flying.
Not lethal, but enough to break cohesion.

Gildarts cursed under his breath. "Traps—he planted them."

Dracula was already darting toward the ruins' outer wall, voice cold and sharp as obsidian. "Split and circle. Force him to reposition. Don't bunch up!"

Orca, coughing through grit, nodded once and vanished into the thicker bank of mist along the western side. Charon, wounded but still conscious, gritted his teeth and limped after Gildarts, deeper into the ruins’ maze-like alleys. For a few brief seconds, the Dragon Pirates disappeared into the bones of the old outpost. But Kaname had built the maze.

And they were already walking through his teeth.
---

Elsewhere, between crumbling archways—

Orca stumbled through the shifting fog, trusting his instincts more than his eyes now. That’s when his foot struck something strange—a metallic clink that vibrated wrong. He looked down. Small coin-sized device. Primed.

Click.

His snarl was lost to the low-frequency pulse that erupted beneath him, pitching him bodily into a cracked wall. Dazed. Slowed. Vulnerable.

---
Elsewhere..

Gildarts and Charon pushed into the hollowed-out barracks, but found no refuge. Another muted blast tore the ceiling loose, raining jagged stone between them.

Forced apart. Isolated. Hunted.
---

Above all of them—Kaname reloaded without looking, fingers moving by rote, his mind several steps ahead. He could feel the rhythm now—their pulse. The truth of them.

Measured twice. Cut once.

And the night was far from over.​

 

[Gambit]

@Aro​

The island breathed smoke now.
Not from war—from precision.

Scattered debris hissed as the mist thickened once more, swallowing the Dragon Pirates in their own broken perimeter. In their scramble, the terrain turned treacherous—not by accident, but by design.

Upwind. Elevated. Unseen.
Kaname stood perched atop the collapsed tower, rifle steady, eye dark behind the scope.

Click.
A second round chambered—another bullet cloaked in silence.

Spoiler

120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level

But this one was different.
It wasn’t aimed at the chest.
It was aimed at the hand.

Target: Dracula’s sword hilt.
Intent: Disarm, not maim.
Message: “You’re not the only artist here.”

The shot whispered through the battlefield like a passing thought—no crack, no flash, no trail. Only impact.

Even before it landed, Kaname was already gone.
Soru. Geppou. A vertical dance, higher now, deeper into shadows and control.

Another claymore clicked to life behind him, ready to greet any who followed.
And then—stillness.

From a rooftop above the barracks, he spoke softly into the wind.
Not a boast. Not a threat.
Just a reading. A judgment.
Delivered with sniper's finality:

“Three things paint the truth—blood, smoke, and silence.”
“I've brought all three.”

The wind carried no echo.
Only intent.

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #5
@Gambit

Blood. Smoke. Silence. And now… a severed grip.

The bullet found its mark.

Dracula’s sword spun once in the air, a crescent of glinting steel, before embedding into the mud with a hollow thud. His fingers twitched—more from the insult than the injury.
He stared at the distant rooftops, narrowed eyes sweeping through the fog.

“Precision,” he muttered. “He’s talking to us.”

Charon, shoulder scorched and leaking from the earlier shot, spat into the dirt. “He ain’t here to kill. He’s here to humiliate.”

Orca dragged Dogmatika’s frame into partial cover, even though it was clear—the cyborg was finished. The core crackled dimly, sparks dancing across ruptured armor. Dogmatika’s faceplate flickered. He blinked for the last time.

“Don’t… chase… the silence.”

Gone.

Charon’s breath shivered, but not from grief. “It’s a game.”

“No. It’s a message. One bullet for every flaw.”

Mist rolled in again—deeper this time. The sniper controlled it, or used it, like a paintbrush.

“We split,” Dracula ordered, voice cutting through the air like his blade once did. “He’s laying a canvas. Don’t be the brushstroke.”

Orca nodded, vanishing into the treeline with a blur of fins and fluid motion. Charon dipped into the back alleys, trailing smoldering bandages. Dracula walked—not fast, not slow. But deliberate.

And then—
Snap. Click. Boom.

Charon’s alley erupted—not in flame, but in concussive force. A low, compressed blast detonated beneath discarded rubble, sending him skidding into a rain-slick wall. His ears rang. His balance staggered. “Trap—!”

But there were no wires. No mines. Nothing visible. Just placement. Prediction.
Footsteps laid over probability.

From the treeline, Orca cursed as the ground gave way beneath a shallow overhang, plunging him into a muddy basin choked with mist. No injuries—just misdirection. Routes collapsing under them, one step too late. “This isn’t a fight,” he hissed, claws flexing. “It’s a damn maze.”

Dracula’s hand trembled slightly as he regripped his sword, blood dripping from his disarmed fingers. His voice cut like frost. “We’ve danced long enough.”

Without another word, the air around him shimmered.

Observation Haki.

A pulse surged through the fog. Not light. Not force. Just awareness. Like sonar through silence, sweeping outward. Charon followed suit—eyes narrowing, breath slowing. Orca closed his eyes completely, trusting the sense over the sight.

For a moment… stillness.

Then—

Flickers. Pressure. A disturbance far above—a presence that vanished as soon as it was felt.

“High left,” Dracula murmured.

“No,” Charon countered. “He moved again. He’s doubling back.”

“Too fast,” Orca growled. “It’s like trying to follow wind through water.”

But something was coming into focus.
A pattern. Brief glimpses of intent. Faint footfalls where mist should’ve muffled. Pressure where no weight should be.

“He’s not just a sniper,” Dracula said quietly. “He’s the battlefield.”

And then, as if to answer them—

Click.

Another round chambered. Far. High. Intent sharp. The Dragon Pirates tensed—not with fear, but fury.

“You want to measure us, Kaname?” Dracula raised his blade toward the rooftops. “Then feel us watching back.”

Gildarts broke left. Not by command. Not by plan. Just instinct.

The others scattered in practiced vectors, Observation Haki sweeping across rooftops and ruins like a radar net. But Gildarts moved through a gap—too clean. A corridor that felt inviting. For a heartbeat, he felt it.

Alone. Misted. Hunted.

The silence wasn’t just Calm-Calm—it was personal. A tremor in his spirit. That same shudder from the Pirate Festival. When he’d seen Ichiryu—proud, wild, undefeatable Ichiryu—fold beneath Vice Admiral Link’s flashing blade. No final words. Just impact. A crater. Silence. He’d stood frozen in a crowd of killers and cowards while his captain bled.

He hadn’t screamed. He hadn’t charged. He just watched.

Now— “I’m the captain,” he whispered to the mist, teeth grit. He slowed and closed his eyes. Observation Haki flared like a pulse of heat from his skin.

There. A breath ago. Weight on broken roof tile.
Intent. And then—displacement. Not where Kaname was, but where he’d been a half-second before.

Gildarts stepped forward—

Click. Boom.

The ground beneath him detonated with focused violence—a claymore Kaname had left behind. Shrapnel burst through the stone like razors.

But Gildarts didn’t budge.

The smoke surged outward—only to be blown back in by the force of his clenched fist.

He snarled and slammed a hardened right arm forward, hurling a shockwave that vibrated the air itself. Raw kinetic energy roared toward the barracks, shattering tiles, ripping debris into the sky.

Spoiler

120: 5. Town Level + A: +3 + 2 = 10. Large Country Level

“You think silence hides you!?” he roared.

This wasn’t rage. It was a signal. A drumline rupture.

A hunter’s challenge.

The force rippled, seeking Kaname’s heartbeat in the ruin. And in that instant—he didn’t need eyes. He felt him. A flicker of pressure, just before it vanished.

“I’ve got you now!”​

 

[Gambit]

@Aro​

Mist churned. Debris danced. The battlefield throbbed.

But there was no echo—no crash of rubble, no rumble of quake.
Only an unnatural hush. An emptiness where sound should’ve bloomed.

Because Kaname was already there.

Crouched in the ruins of a collapsed watchtower just beyond Gildarts’ sightline, the sniper touched two fingers to the cracked stone and whispered to the void.
"Calm."

A dome expanded around him—nullifying the quake, the wind, even the scream of broken tiles. No sound. No trace. Just silence absolute.

His finger twitched toward his belt, grazing the dial on his boots. “No need to waste steps,” he thought. “Soru drains stamina. These will do.”

The DOM shoes whirred—quiet, seamless.

Spoiler

Shoes given to him by Vegapunk in Egghead Island. It can fit any wearer. They are anti-gravity technology and allow one to fly through the air.

Anti-gravity nodes flared beneath the soles, lifting him into the mist like a drifting shadow. With no footfalls, no forceful kicks, he glided—not like a predator chasing blood, but like gravity itself had forgotten him.

Above the barracks now—an open skylight, cracked by Gildarts’ force.

Kaname’s rifle slid into position. One round already chambered—Haki-laced, silence-forged, imbued with Mute Echo.

Spoiler

Mute Echo: The user can project concentrated waves of silence towards their opponents with a flick/snap of his fingers affecting a certain target area or by imbuing it into his bullets to land in a certain target area, temporarily depriving them of their ability to hear anything outside that radius.
- Unranked, requires 81 Nagi-Nagi no Mi

The Bullet: 120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level

He didn’t aim for the strongest.

He aimed for the watcher.

Dracula.

The vampire stood poised, sword drawn, Haki sweeping—but even the keenest sixth sense can’t grasp what’s never born.

The bullet left the chamber like a thought.

No recoil. No muzzle flash. Just absence.

If it hit, it would not be fatal. Not clean. But surgical. A message.

Kaname wouldn't try to watch the result. He moved again.

The DOM shoes hissed once, then whispered forward.
To the far eastern flank—into the heart of the mist-choked barracks.

There—he snapped again. “Mute Maelstrom.”

Spoiler

Mute Maelstrom: A more advanced version of Silent, as this technique dampens all sound within a certain radius around them. This ability can be used passively to muffle ambient noise or actively to create a stealthy environment for sneaking past enemies.
- Unranked, requires 81 Nagi-Nagi no Mi
- Can extend from x2 up to x4 of the user's mastery in meters at will

A wide silence rippled outward. Ambient noise collapsed. No wind. No boots. Just dull pressure, like diving deep into crushing water.

Within the suffocating quiet, he raised his rifle again.

Next round… for Charon.

A single bullet.

Clad in Armament Haki, infused with the Calm silence field, and fired from a barely-breathing rifle—
—it tore through the air like a ghost, invisible to sound, unreadable by vibration.

He didn’t wait to confirm. He moved again, slipping sideways behind twisted rebar and gliding toward a new perch along the barracks' rafters—just a flicker of momentum, no sound to chase.

Kaname whispered into the silence, not to be heard, but because it helped him aim.

God help these Dragon Pirates!

Spoiler

The Bullet: 120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #6
@Gambit

However, despite their mastery of Observation Haki, the Dragon Pirates couldn’t track the shots. They could feel Kaname’s footsteps, his shifts in pressure, even his killing intent. But not the moment the bullet left the barrel. Because there was no sound. No trigger snap. No thunder. Just impact.

Spoiler

Kaname DPR: 120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level
Dracula Durability 81-100: 5. Town Level
Result: DPR 2 or more higher than dura: super effective

Dracula felt the silence before he understood it. The round tore through his leg, and he dropped to one knee, sword scraping stone. Then came the void. No footfalls. No voices. No wind. Not even the echo of his own breath. The Mute Echo, a projected technique of the Nagi Nagi no Mi, had erased everything. The world itself muted. He opened his mouth, as if to curse, to call, to sing. But there was nothing. Just silence, and blood. His grip tightened on his violin, not to play, but to remember what it felt like to matter in a world of noise.

Spoiler

Kaname DPR= 120 + A rank bullet + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level
Charon Durability= 81-100: 5. Town Level
Result: DPR 2 or more higher than dura: super effective

Charon was hit next. The bullet punched into his abdomen with surgical precision. He staggered, the shock delaying the pain by half a second. Then it came, like a blade through the ribs. He collapsed into the wet stone, blood seeping between his fingers as he clutched the wound. His breath came in sharp, choking gasps. He tried to speak. To rise. But gravity had already claimed him. His world was shrinking. Slowing.

Gildarts stood amidst the settling smoke of his shockwave, chest rising and falling like a loaded forge. At first, he thought he’d flushed the sniper out, felt the ripple of movement as his attack slammed into the barracks. But then he turned. He saw Dracula drop. He heard Charon’s breath hitch and fall into silence.

His knuckles tightened. That old familiar burn crawled up his throat. The failure. The too-late feeling. Again.

Again.

“Ichiryu,” he muttered under his breath, the name like ash. His grip flexed, his stance widened, but the world was already moving.

Orca roared, but it wasn’t rage. It was precision through pain. He felt Kaname’s ghost pressure just a flicker to the west. His eyes snapped shut. One breath. Two. He let the mist cling to his arm, moisture forming along his muscles. Then he moved while coating his full body in armanment hardening. An extra precaution against shots that would never birth sound.

“Yabusame!”

Spoiler: DPR

81-100: 3. Large Building Level + A: +3 + 2 = 8. Island Level

With a thunderous throw, he hurled the mist. Each droplet, sharpened by sheer kinetic force, cut through the fog like glass shards. Water arrows—dozens of them—ripped through the air, carving toward the sniper’s perch. The attack wasn’t blind. It was guided. By fury. By instinct. By the silent promise of retribution.

And Gildarts stood behind it all. Silent. Still. Watching the water fly and swearing with everything in him that he’d not lose another crewmate to the quiet.

Not today.​

 

[Gambit]

Phantom Fang | Prelude to Ash
@Aro​

The mist parted for no one.

Not even the devil in black.

The sniper descended through that fog like a whispered curse—DOM shoes humming with anti-gravity tech beneath his feet, barely parting the air. No flash of Soru. No geppo. Just a drifting shadow with no weight, no sound. A phantom.

A moment before, Kaname had felt the roar. Not with his ears—but with his bones. Orca’s haki, his rage, his grief all honed into one word: “Yabusame!”

Water carved into the air, droplets like shards of glass racing toward his perch in guided vengeance. Precision born of pain. The attack was powerful, honest. He could respect that.

But respect didn’t mean surrender.

He didn’t run. He didn’t vanish. He didn’t even blink.

He remembered.

“This suit’s yours, Hagiri,”
Vegapunk had said, fingers soaked in quantum ink, tools of tomorrow scattered on the lab table.
“Anti-gravity soles. Thought you’d need to keep your stance while sniping in chaos. Call ’em DOM shoes. They’ll carry you.”

They did.

And so did he.

Kaname dropped gently from his perch, the soles of his DOMs whispering a magnetic pulse. No impact. No vibration. Not even the birds noticed.

Then he saw the water arrows coming. Cutting the mist. Dozens of them. Maybe more.

His fingers twitched.

"Shizukana Shigan…"
"…Phantom Fang."

Spoiler

Shizukana Shigan: Phantom Fang:
"Silent Finger Gun: Phantom Fang " A highly advanced fusion of Rokushiki’s Shigan and the Calm-Calm Fruit’s sound-nullifying field. The user thrusts two fingers forward with Shigan's precision, but instead of launching piercing force, each jab emits a focused pulse of absolute silence. This silence acts like a soft implosion—neutralizing the sound, vibration, and kinetic resonance of incoming attacks within a cone-shaped range.

The “phantom fangs” are invisible and make no sound, but wherever they strike, projectiles unravel, momentum fails, and vibrations are erased. Perfect for nullifying sound-dependent, high-velocity, or clustered projectile attacks like Yabusame.
Requirements: 81 Nagi-Nagi no Mi Mastery, 61 Rokushiki Mastery (Shigan)
DPR: A/S

120 + A rank + 2 Haki = 10. Large Country Level

He stepped forward—one hand raised, two fingers pointed out. A ripple of haki climbed up the arm like black lightning.

And then—

Silence fractured the world. Irony!

Each Shigan thrust wasn’t a piercing blow, but an eruption of calm. Bursts of compressed, weaponised stillness formed invisible cones ahead of his fingers. The Calm-Calm field surged with each jab, not to deflect the water, but to nullify its purpose.

Where the arrows met the Phantom Fangs, they disintegrated. Not shattered. Not blocked.

Unmade.

Their cohesion failed. The sound of their velocity stolen. The echo of their danger erased.

Nothing fell.
Nothing struck.
Just mist curling, broken, over the silence.

Orca’s eyes widened. His instincts didn’t scream—they stuttered, unsure of what they were even sensing anymore.

Kaname lowered his hand. The calm still pulsed around his body, x4 radius, sustained without strain.

He whispered, though no one would hear, "You're not the only one who controls pressure.”

And then, the sniper turned his gaze.

Past the shredded Yabusame.
Past Orca’s disbelief.
Straight to Gildarts.

The warrior stood amidst silence. The kind that followed the collapse of friends. The kind that came before death.

Their eyes locked.

Kaname didn’t smile. Didn’t rage.
He simply adjusted the scope on his rifle and drifted forward, DOM shoes keeping him weightless.

This wasn’t a job anymore. It was retribution.

He raised the rifle to the side and let it rest against his back.

Not to retreat. But to show he no longer needed it.

Both hands dropped to his sides. One snapped his coat back, revealing his stance—a unique form, a Rokushiki hybrid, pressure ready to erupt beneath the cloak of silence.

Observation Haki bloomed. Armament curled around his fists like quiet fire. This wasn’t a sniper anymore.

This was a warrior of silence.

And silence was coming.

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #7
@Gambit

Orca stood frozen. In the haze of drifting mist and dissipating water, he saw him: Kaname, not as a whisper or ripple of pressure, but a silhouette made real. Lean frame, calm stance, those finger-guns still faintly smoking from the Phantom Fang technique. And that stillness. Not arrogance. Not bloodlust. Control. Kaname had watched the arrows come, had answered them not with panic but with poise. Every inch of his stance said it clearly: You cannot touch me.

Orca’s breath hitched. For a second, his muscles twitched, a lifetime of combat telling him to strike again. But something in his gut, deeper than instinct, froze him in place. He couldn’t win this in a duel of speed or range. Not like this. Not tonight.

His mind snapped back to Charon. Turning sharply, he rushed toward the fallen body, his massive frame sinking beside the blood-slicked stone. Gildarts was already kneeling there, his eyes stormy, fists trembling not from rage, but helplessness. Dracula, nearby, gritted his teeth and ripped off a length of cloth to bind his wounded leg, the silence of the Calm Calm fruit finally lifting.

The sound returned like a tide, rainfall, footfalls, the sound of their own breathing. Dracula winced as it crashed into him, sweat soaking his brow from the delayed return of sensory input. His eyes flicked to Charon. And something inside him fractured.

Charon coughed weakly, crimson on his lips. His breath was shallow, but a smile curved his mouth all the same.

“Damn,” he rasped. “You guys got old...”

Orca’s throat tightened.

“Shut up,” he growled, voice trembling.

“Nah... nah, I mean it.” Charon’s eyes glazed but held warmth. “Still remember that night on Saffron Island... remember? We stole that banquet table… Ichiryu tried to bluff the Marines with a fake Warlord license.”

Gildarts barked a bitter laugh, blinking hard. “And you threw up in the Admiral’s hat box.”

Dracula’s lips quirked. “He tried to play it off as seafoam residue.”

Charon chuckled wetly. “Yeah... yeah... that’s the one...”

A memory took them all, the firelight of that old camp, Dogmatika balancing two bottles on his head while Ichiryu arm-wrestled Gildarts across a keg. Laughter. Music. Life before scars.

Charon’s voice grew faint. “It was fun. More than enough.”

Orca clutched his comrade’s hand, massive fingers trembling. “We’ll meet again,” Charon whispered, eyes slipping closed, that same tired smile still lingering. “Other side of the sea.”

And then he was gone.

The stillness that followed was worse than silence. Orca bowed his head and roared, not a cry of battle, but of soul-deep grief. The sound rippled through the broken barracks and across the empty street, a call of mourning that even Kaname could not mute.

Dracula brought up his violin. Tonight, he played. The bow drew across the strings, raw and imperfect, but soaked with lament. A melody with no lyrics, only weight. It wept through the night like memory, like love, like loss. Gildarts lowered his head. Even the rain seemed to slow.

The Dragon Pirates didn’t speak. They just listened. To the sound of the one they lost. And the silence that followed him.

The violin’s cry still lingered in the air, grief woven into every trembling note, Dracula’s lament for the fallen echoing through the mist like a dying star. Gildarts didn’t move, not yet. He listened. Not to the song, but to the absence that came with it.

Charon was gone. Another brother lost.

His eyes rose, cutting through the broken haze, and met Kaname’s.

The sniper had turned. Past Orca’s devastation. Past the remnants of Yabusame’s shattered will. His gaze was no longer cold calculation. It burned now, not with hate, but certainty. Purpose.

Gildarts knew that look.

Kaname drifted forward, weightless, precise. He wasn’t aiming his rifle now. No need. This wasn’t assassination. This was judgment.

Gildarts exhaled, slow and controlled, the breath of a man who had buried too many brothers already. No more. Never again.

He rose as the violin sang its final mournful note. The storm within him didn’t explode, it tightened. Hardened. Distilled into one singular emotion: resolve.

His voice didn’t rise. He said no words. But his body moved with meaning.

He leapt.

Mist peeled away in his wake as he soared upward, toward the sniper’s perch, the jagged barracks rooftop where Kaname stood. Their stage. No rifles. No tricks. Just flesh, will, and haki.

He landed with a controlled crash, the rooftop groaning beneath his weight. Kaname didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back. Just tilted his head slightly, as if to say, “Finally.”

Gildarts took his stance, low, tight, coiled like a brawler ready to crush granite. Observation Haki hummed in his skull like a drumbeat. Every movement Kaname made rang in his bones. Every breath he took was hidden by his power, sparking warnings in the pirate's nerves. Armament surged across Gildarts’ forearms, flowing into his fists like molten fire. But it wasn’t black. It wasn’t smoke. It was red. Crimson. The hue of fury, forged in loss.

Kaname responded in kind. His fingers flexed. That hybrid stance, Rokushiki, but something else. Something refined, perfected in silence.

Two men stood now. Not as sniper and soldier. But as weapons. And between them stretched no words, only the weight of everything that had come before. Gildarts clenched his fists, and the rooftop cracked beneath his stance. He would not let another fall. Not tonight. Not while he still drew breath.​

 

[Gambit]

Kaname didn’t raise his hand—not yet.

Instead, he spoke.

Low. Calm. Carried not by voice, but intent.
Even the rain seemed to hush for it.

"He’s not dead."

A beat passed.

"He never meant to die."

Gildarts' fury hesitated—not gone, just listening.

Kaname’s fingers relaxed slightly, his posture still alert, but less aggressive. The ghost of a breath passed through him as if carried from another life.

"Charon was always two steps ahead. The shot missed his heart on purpose. He wanted to disappear… because the real fight isn’t here."

The Dragon Pirates stilled.

"He’s buying us time."

Then, as the silence returned to settle between them like falling ash, Kaname added, with a rare break in his voice:

"He was one of ours once. Like me."

He finally looked at them—not as enemies, not even as opponents, but as former brothers-in-arms.

"I was a pirate, too. A World Pirate. We faced the Sun once... and lost."
His jaw tensed. "Sun Wukong defeated our captain. Spared me."

A pause. A flash of memory in his eye. Not shame. Not sorrow.
Something closer to reverence.

"I swore my loyalty to him—not out of fear... but out of understanding."

And then, to Gildarts specifically:

"Your friend didn’t fall. He changed course."

A gust passed. The storm behind them began to fade. But the storm between them was just beginning.

Kaname raised his hand.

"Now show me how much you’ve changed, too."

 

[Aro]

Dragon Pirates #8
@Gambit

"Your friend didn’t fall. He changed course." Kaname raised his hand. "Now show me how much you’ve changed, too."

He moved. No words. No warning. Just will, grinding against the bones of grief. Gildarts launched forward, the cracked rooftop splitting further beneath his surge. The air bent around his fist, not from speed, but conviction. Haki ignited along his arms, glowing crimson-black, like embers too angry to die.

“Hammerfall.”

Spoiler: DPR

120: 5. Town Level+ A:+3 +CoA+3= 11. Small Continent Level

His first strike would come like a meteor. A downward arc, wide and heavy, with enough strength to cripple a giant. He wasn’t to testing Kaname. He was trying to bury him.

Gildarts didn’t pause. Not anymore.

He would spin, shoulder pivoting low as he gathered momentum. A second strike. “Stalwart Reverb!”

Spoiler: DPR

120: 5. Town Level+ S:+4 +CoA+3= 12. Large Continent Level

An uppercut, designed to echo inside the body. A technique he hadn’t used in years. Not since Ichiryu stood beside him, grinning over shattered ribs, saying:

“A punch like that shouldn’t just break bone. It should carry a message!”​

 

[Gambit]

Kaname vs Gildarts – Rooftop Clash

Kaname moved—not with panic, but with orchestration. He didn’t dodge. He disappeared. A single step with Soru, body vanishing into a streak, only to reappear two beams away, crouched low and skimming the slanted tiles with the aid of the DOM Shoes. Anti-gravity let him lean over impossible angles, glide rather than step, control rather than leap.

He snapped his fingers once.

A blast of compressed silence shot forward in a cone—the Mute Echo—striking just before Gildarts’ second blow could connect. The uppercut carved through stone, but the silence blurred his senses, Observation faltering for a beat. That beat was all Kaname needed.

He spun left, catching the shifting wind with his coat, mist curling around him like steam off a blade.

"You're not just swinging fists. You're mourning with them."

He raised his leg mid-spin and unleashed his first technique.

"Roku Gekkou: Phantom Arc..."

A Rankyaku infused with silence, sharpened into a sickle of air that curved low toward Gildarts’ ribs. It flew silently—no howling wind, no cry of cutting force—just a silver arc of violence threading through the haze.

Spoiler

Description: A silent, crescent-shaped Rankyaku enhanced by the Calm-Calm Fruit. By imbuing the blade of wind with both Armament Haki and a zone of absolute silence (via Calm), this attack removes all audible warnings of its presence. No wind whoosh. No slicing howl. It cuts like a ghost—unseen, unheard. Ideal for bypassing reaction-based defenses like Observation Haki.
DPR: S
101 + S + COA = Large Country Level

Using the release from that spin, Kaname launched into the air, twisting through falling rain. The DOM Shoes hummed to life again, stabilising his hover as he flipped overhead.

"I used to be a pirate once. World Pirates. I thought we were invincible."

He cocked his wrist back, fingers locked in form.

"Rokuon Shigure..."

A fingertip projectile attack—a condensed bullet of air layered with Armament and Calm—fired with pinpoint velocity down toward Gildarts’ shoulder joint, seeking to deaden his momentum just as his stance reloaded for another impact.

Spoiler

Description: A hyper-condensed air bullet flicked from a single finger, layered with both Armament Haki and Calm to silence its launch and suppress its impact noise. Intended for pinpoint sniping at vulnerable joints or vitals during close-quarters. The attack flies without a sonic trace, making it extremely difficult to detect via traditional Observation Haki.
DPR: S
101 + S + COA = Large Country Level

"Sun Wukong proved me wrong. He broke us—then spared me."

Kaname landed lightly on a beam that jutted out from the half-destroyed barracks' upper structure. Wind tore past his coat, the mist never far behind.

"I swore to him. And I learned. Not how to shoot—how to choose what not to shoot."

He stood fully now, eyes locked with Gildarts.

"Your friend didn’t fall. He changed course."

The air was still, but his intent was rising.

"Let’s finish this. For them."

No smiles. No sneers. Just readiness.