Summoner in One Piece

The pain was a white-hot spear driven through Alex's back. Every breath was a rasp, every movement a searing agony. He lay in the shallow hollow, guarded by two loyal, if gravely wounded, Knight-ranked Warriors. His vision, still swimming, cleared enough to show the gruesome reality: Kaelen, his imposing frame collapsed against a tree, a dark, spreading stain on his chest, barely movable; Akane, twisted on the ground, her arms at unnatural angles, daggers scattered uselessly beside her. And in the distance, Erza, a beacon of crimson and steel, locked in a brutal, unending dance with the monstrous Spinosaurus.

I have to do something, Alex's mind screamed, cutting through the haze of pain. We're too exposed. Too many fell.

He forced himself to reach for his system interface, ignoring the screams of his protesting muscles. He had to heal. He had to intervene. His eyes scanned his SP. 1000 SP remained. Survival took precedence over all else.

"System, purchase mid-grade healing potion," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. The system acknowledged. A small, glowing vial materialized in his hand. It wasn't "on sale," but that didn't matter.

"Better to use up points than end up dead," he muttered, uncorking it with trembling fingers and forcing the potent liquid down. A warmth spread through him, easing the most acute pain, allowing him to push himself to a kneeling position, though still far from full strength.

He pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the tree. The two Warriors guarding him tensed, ready to aid, but Alex waved them back, his gaze fixed on the battle. He saw Erza, a blur of red and silver, her shield battered, her movements growing more labored. She was bleeding, but still fighting like a demon. And then, he saw it. With a final, desperate surge of strength, Erza pivoted, her spear glowing with a fierce, emerald light. "Dragon Slayer: Piercing Gale!" she roared, a raw, primal scream. The attack tore through Klarg's neck, carving a massive, gushing wound. The colossal Spinosaurus roared, a sound of agony and fury, before its head, severed from its immense body, crashed to the forest floor with a sickening thud. The massive body followed, shaking the earth with its collapse.

A wave of relief washed over Alex, quickly replaced by renewed dread. They had won that fight, but at what cost? Erza, her chest heaving, slumped against her spear, clearly at her limit.

Before the relief could fully settle, a new shadow fell over the treeline. The second pirate ship, its flag snapping in the wind, rapidly docked. It was a brig, and 40 pirates immediately poured out, their numbers fresh, their eyes glinting with predatory intent.

"Fire!" a new voice roared. A volley of cannonballs screamed through the air, crashing into the very battlefield where Alex's wounded Warriors struggled to stand. The explosions were deafening, sending shrapnel and earth flying. More cries of pain erupted.

"They're landing!" one of Alex's Warrior guards yelled, pointing.

Alex watched in horror as the fresh pirates, seeing the carnage and the exhausted figures, swarmed into the forest. His 32 wounded Warriors, despite their previous valor, were in no condition to face this fresh onslaught. The pirates, unhindered by ambush tactics, attacked relentlessly.

The remaining Warriors fought bravely, their Knight abilities and training pushing them beyond their limits, but their bodies were already failing. The fight was brutal, short, and agonizingly one-sided. In a desperate, final struggle, the 40 pirates were killed, but the cost was devastating. All but 6 Warriors succumbed to their wounds or were overwhelmed, their bodies joining the fallen. Only a handful of the 37 original Warriors remained alive, clinging to consciousness, battered and bleeding.

"No... not like this..." Alex clenched his teeth, his hands tightening into fists. He saw his loyal men, who had faced a Spinosaurus and decimated a larger force, being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

We need more. I need more. This is it. Our last stand if I can't turn the tide.

Alex pushed himself further, moving to take a position in the middle of the growing piles of dead bodies pirates and beasts alike where the essence was thickest. He would attempt a desperate, mass summoning ritual. He wouldn't use System Points for this, relying instead on the raw, ambient mana and the sheer volume of life force around him.

As he initiated the complex, mana-draining ritual, drawing upon his remaining strength and the very mana of the island, the ground began to tremble. A swirling vortex of dark energy began to coalesce around him, drawing in essence from the fallen pirates and beasts around. The air grew heavy, static electricity prickled their skin, and a thick, unnatural smoke and fog began to billow outwards, rapidly obscuring the entire battlefield.

Meanwhile, the third pirate force arrived. Their ship, a large galleon carrying 60 pirates, had sustained critical damage during the initial naval exchange and had finally succumbed to the waves, sinking before it could reach the shore. Its crew, led by the formidable Vice-Captain Don Krieg, were forced to swim the remaining distance, emerging from the ocean, soaked but enraged.

Don Krieg surveyed the carnage on the beach with a cold, professional eye, his mind quickly analyzing the battlefield. The first ship's crew (Klarg's "Saber" ship, with 150 pirates) was decimated, lying scattered like broken dolls. His brother, Klarg, lay dead, decapitated, a horrifying sight that sent a jolt of shock through him. Klarg... defeated? Impossible! Who could have done this?

He then saw the aftermath of the fight with the second ship. The 40 pirates were all dead, their bodies strewn amongst a mere handful of enemy soldiers who were also clearly on their last legs. Only 6 Warriors remained alive, all wounded, battered, and barely standing. Plus the three main combatants: Erza, heavily wounded, slumped by her spear; Akane, incapacitated, clutching her twisted arm; and Kaelen, badly wounded and barely movable. He counted quickly: a handful of visible enemies. Perhaps 10 in total still alive and on their feet, some looking severely compromised.

And then his eyes fell upon Alex. The "idiot" was standing amidst the rapidly thickening smoke and fog, arms outstretched, chanting in some strange, guttural tongue. What is that tribal nonsense? Some kind of witch doctor ritual? Has this island... a hidden power?

A flicker of caution, then cunning, entered Don Krieg's eyes. This wasn't a clean fight. The enemy, though few, had clearly inflicted heavy losses on Klarg's main force. Klarg's death was proof enough. The battle here was a bloody mess, with a lot of unknowns. He needed to be cautious.

His gaze fell on Klarg's ship, the Dreadnaught Sabre, listing heavily on the shore. It was the only viable vessel remaining from their fleet. Don Krieg's ambition stirred. He wouldn't abandon his brother's flagship or the wealth he knew Klarg had hoarded on board.

"Alright, boys!" Don Krieg's voice boomed, cutting through the bewildered whispers of his remaining 60 pirates who had just swam ashore. He turned to a group of 10 of his toughest men. "You lot! Follow me! We're securing the Dreadnaught Sabre! My brother's ship is still afloat, and I'll not lose the treasures he's hoarded there!" He took this core group, moving with decisive speed towards the foundering flagship. He intended to ensure their escape route was clear and salvage Klarg's wealth if things went south.

Then, he turned to the other 50 pirates, gesturing towards the fog-shrouded battlefield with a cruel, convincing grin. Just as he began to speak, a final, guttural roar escaped Alex's lips, and the vortex of energy around him exploded outwards. BOOM! The entire area was swallowed by an even denser, white-hot cloud of smoke and dust, obliterating all visibility.

"You heard the blasts, didn't you?!" Don Krieg's voice, now louder, cut through the residual boom. "Their cannons backfired! Blasted themselves! The enemy's weakened, wounded, scattered, and mostly dead!" He lied smoothly, his eyes glinting.

"Go! Finish them off! Loot everything you can find! And as a reward for your courage and speed, you can keep 30% of all loot you find!" He calculated. 30% was enough to incentivize greed, but not so much that it would arouse suspicion about his true motives. He wanted them to go in, mop up, and hopefully thin out the remaining enemies without him having to commit his full force. If they ran into trouble, he'd know the extent of the new threat. If they died, it was a small loss for a potentially larger gain.

The 50 pirates, fueled by greed and their vice-captain's cunning words, roared their agreement and plunged into the swirling smoke and fog, eager for easy pickings and promised riches. Don Krieg, meanwhile, continued barking orders to secure the Dreadnaught Sabre, his eyes narrowed, a cold calculation in their depths. The tribal chant from the fog was growing louder, more intense, but now it was followed by the sounds of his men entering the thick, concealing mist. He needed to be ready for anything.