Akainu Fleet Admiral Novels & Stories

They did whatever they wanted, and for many years, no one had dared to challenge them openly. What Dramon had just done struck fear in the hearts of the Malian soldiers for the first time, even though they had always acted as they pleased. A fair-skinned man in Malian military uniform, who had the star of a general on his shoulder, was standing in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. He was sipping red wine. His name was Jaymes Watten, and he was the commander of the aircraft carrier fleet.

“Hmm… maybe Capo Mariano could be the leader. Or Aakil?” Aakil cleared his throat and then spoke, “The consigliere mentioned your courage and we saw it too. That gave us determination. This is what the organization needs. I cannot take Callan’s place. I am not a descendant of Ravij's head. They won’t accept me as their leader even for temporary.” “But I do not think I am suited to be a leader as well. Hell, I cannot even make a damn shot straight. I do not think the organization will mind if Uncle Mariano leads this mission instead.”

The infamously gruff voice confirming my guess. Joseph "Mando" Ackerman, ex United States Navy SEAL, veteran of the Iraqi and Afghan wars, took an honorable discharge after he got wounded out on a mission to take out a cell of Taliban terrorists and now working as the chief of my security detail. Standing at a massive 6'5 and 240 pounds of pure muscle. He looked like a walking tank. "You are on their tail?" "Affirmative sir." I chuckled slightly, like most veterans, he kept the habit of answering like I was his commanding officer.

I gave the driver the instructions, and then we all boarded the catamaran. “Wow, this is fancy,” Amelie exclaimed. “Only the best for you, kitten,” I advised. “We have the whole vessel to ourselves as well.” “Hey, everyone, my name is Cousin Jake. I’m the first mate here on the catamaran,” a tanned blonde man spoke. “Hi, Cousin Jake,” everyone responded. “Excellent, we have a responsive group today,” Jake laughed. “I’d like to welcome you and let you know exactly what we’re going to be doing today. Our captain today is Akoni. Everyone, say hi to Cousin Akoni.”

Her heart sinks as she realizes that her uncle, Alpha Kaden, has made up his mind. The alpha's gaze shifts towards Alexa, his voice softening as he speaks, "Enjoy your feast, niece." His words hold a hint of regret, a subtle acknowledgment of their strained relationship. With measured steps, he continues on his way, passing by Blaze, who dutifully lowers his gaze, showing respect and submission. The pack watches in tense silence as the alpha ascends the stairs, disappearing into his room. The realization settles that their leader will not be joining them for the evening's feast. His loyal servant remains behind, tasked with delivering the message that the alpha will not be present.

Aki then pointed at Purple Sparrow, who showed a pitiful look on her face while being covered in a jacket. “Helm Mendoza, if you really know what’s best for everyone, you should convince this woman to accept her fate. “If not, I’ll come for you after this! After all, you shot a few of my subordinates. I can report this to the government of Las Vegas at any minute to demand your statement!” Aki was filled with craze and ego. The title of young lord of his clan and the disciple of the Shinkage Way were basically trump cards hung around his neck, enabling him to do whatever he pleased in Las Vegas.

She has this monotone voice and an upright vibe. And the last one who greeted. “Greetings, Ms. Akira. The newly appointed general, Cedrick Reinhardt, commanding the soldiers of Clemente.” Greeted by Cedrick. He’s too young to be the general and yet he became one. He has this small scar on his lips. Akira then stared at Elder Soren. “I didn't know there was already an appointed general. The reports that Seneca gave me didn’t report that.” Akira pointed out and then looked at Cedrick who wasn’t fazed by the coldness of Akira.

he asked. “Since she’s leading the fleet, she should be called Fleet Admiral,” said Admiral Anali. Freya looked over at the woman. She was cousin to Max, and niece to the Star Dragon. Her age was somewhere in between the two, though she was closer in age and temperament to the Star Dragon than to Max. On her collar were the pips of an Admiral. She seemed to wear them proudly. “Not yet,” Freya replied. “I’ll start using that title once we acquire the fleet’s flagship. For now, simply call me by my name. That oughta suffice.”

At the vanguard of the flagship The Leviathan, the massive bow was laced with long, calcified silver teeth that rose from the iron prow like the jaws of an ancient sea monster. At the center of the command deck stood Lord Cassius, the High Admiral of the Southern Seas. He was an older pureblood, his skin weathered to a tough, leathery texture by decades of exposure to the salt spray, his long silver beard braided with dark iron rings. His entirely black eyes—completely devoid of white or iris—scanned the towering, dark cliffs of the Frost-Gate with a cold, analytical detachment. He held a massive, double-barreled black-iron rifle across his broad chest, its mechanism loaded with heavy, three

He gives me a smile and grabs my hand. (What’s your name mate?) he asks curiously. (I’m Mila Gibson and you?) I ask. (That’s a beautiful name. I’m Adam Thompson.) He replies. (What pack are you from Adam?) I ask innocently. (I’m the future beta of the Crescent Moon Pack.) He says proudly. I pull my hand away from him slowly, and he looks at me confused. (Is something wrong?) He asks confused. (I’m sorry, but I have plans and this is not part of them.) I whisper.