The setting is in the west blue, thousands of miles away from the crew and the frozen country of Peroneau. In the middle of the Ocean, a humble ship, no larger than a dinghy floats on the water, bobbing up and down in the waves. On the boat is a man in his late 30's to 40's fishing as he sits on a rickety wooden chair. He's decorated with a scrappy farmers hat and a cheap jet black vest. However, there's nothing safe about this man and his isolated vessel. Cruising toward him on the near horizon is 2 Juggernaut-class Navy battleships, set dead ahead towards the lonely fisherman. Each over 200 meters long, they're decked with cannons and soldiers. As the two battleships approach the harmless man, a voice coming from a loudspeaker pierces the air.
"SURRENDER PEACEFULLY FROG-LEGS, AND WE WONT TURN YOU INTO ASH!"
The man looked up from his fishing line in the water, and sighed.
"Damn, I really thought I could go one week..."
"THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING, SUBMIT TO THE WORLD GOVERNMENT AN-"
The lone man sitting in his ship got up, pulling his ankle to stretch, then switching to the other leg. He stopped listening to the opposing force and interrupted with a booming yet calm voice.
"Actually, this is your last warning. Keep on sailing and someone doesn't have to file a casualty report for five-hundred idiot marines."
From the inside of one of the ships, a low-rank marine seaman sitting at a navigational computer looks up at his commanding officer, and questioned with a concerned tone. "Sir, he's not moving."
"I can see that, but we have orders, soldier. It looks like we won't be taking him alive. Fire the cannons when ready."
The two battleships approached either side of the man they called "Frog-Legs", surrounding his left and right. A few dozen cannons lowered over the edges of either ship, each manned with a soldier ready to fire.
The cannons wasted no time, and in unison, cannonballs rained down on Frog-Legs, setting up smoke and fog in the air as the entire area was absolutely decimated, the amount of force made waves that shook both battleships.
"Do we have to bring in a body to confirm that he's gone?" The Navy seaman asked as the wreckage began to settle."
"No, that should be good." The Officer responded. "Tell the other cruiser to set course back to-"
"w-WHAT!?"
The entire team that worked in the upper area of the ship suddenly had their concentration averted as they looked outside. As the smoke from the cannon fire settled, all men on board gasped in horror as the second battleship across them was already halfway underwater, with the front of the ship pointed at an upwards angle, and black smoke fuming out of the top.
"Gamma Cruiser come in Gamma Cruiser!!" The Navy Officer frantically shouted into his handheld transponder snail.
"Gamma Cruiser is busy right now, call back later please." A voice uttered from behind. The crew turned around to see Frog-Legs, who had glowing green eyes now, and a thick purple coat standing menacingly.
"YOU BASTARD!!" The Officer screamed as the whole bridge all aimed their rifles at the terrifying foe. Unfortunately, not a single man could get their finger on the trigger before a swirl of green wind overtook the room, leaving all of them bleeding out on the floor. The only one still alive was the Navigational Seaman, who sustained the least injuries. As Frog-Legs exited the room, the soldier picked up his supervisors Transponder Snail while bleeding from multiple spots on his body, listening to the rest of the ship get torn apart from the inside.
Across the sea, 2000 kilometers to the east, another Navy Soldier picked up the phone while sitting at the South Blue Marine Headquarters.
