Venturing Realities: The journey started after being Brook's disciple

The next morning, Lynn awoke to chaos.

"MARINE SHIPS! THREE OF THEM, BEARING DOWN FAST!"

He scrambled from his hammock, hastily grabbing his medical bag and the box containing the strange fruit. The ship lurched violently as it changed course, sending Lynn stumbling into the wall.

Above deck, the situation was grim. Three Marine vessels formed a blockade ahead, their white sails brilliant against the blue sky. Marines lined the rails, rifles and cannons at the ready.

"They've been tracking us since Alabasta," Brook explained grimly, telescope in hand. "I'd hoped to lose them in the night, but they're persistent."

"Can we outrun them?" Lynn asked, securing his bag around his waist.

"Not with this wind." Brook's usual jovial manner had vanished, replaced by the stern demeanor of a captain facing danger. "We'll have to fight."

The crew moved with practiced efficiency, manning battle stations and preparing weapons. Lynn hurried to the medical bay, quickly organizing bandages, disinfectants, and surgical tools. Combat injuries would soon follow, and he needed to be ready.

The first cannon shot fell short, sending up a plume of water that sprayed across the deck. The second came closer.

"RETURN FIRE!" Brook commanded, and the ship's cannons roared in response.

Lynn braced himself against the medical table as the ship rocked with each blast. From his position below deck, he could hear the chaos above—shouts, explosions, the clash of metal on metal as the ships drew close enough for boarding.

"Doc! We need you topside!" Barbaro appeared at the doorway, blood seeping from a gash in his arm. "They've boarded us!"

Lynn grabbed his emergency kit and followed, heart pounding. On deck, the battle raged. Marines and pirates clashed in a blur of steel and gunpowder. Brook moved like lightning, his sword flashing as he cut down Marine after Marine.

"Over here!" Lynn called to Barbaro, pulling him behind a stack of barrels. "Let me see that arm."

Working quickly, Lynn cleaned and bandaged the wound. "You'll live. Now stay put while I—"

A deafening explosion interrupted him as a cannonball struck the ship's mast. Wood splintered, raining debris across the deck. Lynn instinctively threw himself over Barbaro, shielding him from the worst of it.

Pain lanced through Lynn's back as something sharp pierced his skin. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself upright once the debris settled.

"You okay?" he asked Barbaro.

"Better than you." Barbaro pointed at Lynn's shoulder, where a large splinter of wood protruded. "That needs to come out."

"Later," Lynn insisted, already moving toward another injured crewmate. "There are others who need help more."

For the next hour, Lynn worked tirelessly, moving from one injured pirate to another. Remove shrapnel, clean wound, apply pressure, bandage, move on. His own injury throbbed painfully, but he pushed the sensation aside. Modern triage concepts from his world guided his decisions—who to treat first, who could wait, who was beyond help.

The battle gradually turned in their favor. Brook's swordsmanship and the crew's tenacity drove the Marines back to their own vessels. When the last Marine ship retreated, the crew's victory cheer was subdued by exhaustion and the knowledge of what they'd lost.

"Damage report," Brook called out, wiping his blade clean.

"Mast's damaged but standing," reported the ship's carpenter. "Hull's taken some hits below the waterline—we're taking on water, but the pumps are keeping up for now."