Thud!
After fleeing in a miserable panic, Monka crashed through a flimsy wooden fence and fell into the dirt. Only then did he regain a bit of clarity and look around.
"This is...!"
The dark earth reflected a faint glimmer beneath the moonlight, while pale gravestones stood silently before him.
The guardhouse was pitch-black. The old man who always sat beneath the dim lamp reading newspapers was nowhere to be seen.
This was Shells Town's cemetery.
Gulp...!
The sinister cemetery was eerily silent. This land of the dead reminded Monka of the pursuers behind him. He swallowed, pushed himself up from the dirt, and stood.
He glanced toward the guardhouse. Something seemed to be watching him from within the pitch-black room. Forcibly suppressing the urge to investigate, Monka wiped sweat and mud from his clothes and gripped his axe handle tightly.
"This place should be safe... right?"
Monka had figured it out by then. That had to be the effect of some kind of Devil Fruit. Otherwise, if the dead truly haunted the world, the Marines would have encountered it long ago.
Only the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia, updated every year, proved that this world still contained many unknown Devil Fruits.
The appearance of the undead was unbelievable, but the form of their existence was not entirely beyond comprehension.
Not to mention the Three Admirals, practically myths in the eyes of all Marines. The Logia Devil Fruits they possessed, and the principle behind physical attacks being useless against them, were far stranger than the undead.
And besides...
"Since Colonel Alva appeared there, this cemetery is already full of empty graves."
Monka found the grave of a soldier buried after the previous tragedy and swung his axe down hard, splitting the tombstone apart.
Crack!
He quickly dug away the dirt covering the coffin. Looking at the pitch-black wooden casket, Monka took a deep breath and kicked it open.
The stench of decay immediately rushed out, making him want to vomit.
Seeing the half-rotted corpse inside, its face still faintly recognizable, Monka's face went pale in an instant.
Wriggling insects crawled all over the body, making its expression seem alive, as if it were saying, Surprised? Didn't expect this, did you?
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
At that moment, a dense series of dull impacts came from nearby. Without time to think, Monka tightened his grip on his axe and turned around.
"Why is it you?!"
He vaguely remembered the newcomer. He had been one of the soldiers who had helped fend off the enemy's attack earlier.
The man now stood before the shattered cemetery fence, his head tilted to one side, utterly motionless. Moonlight spilled down from behind him, casting a long shadow across the ground.
Seeing a "familiar" face, Monka let out a breath of relief.
"Were you the only one who escaped? Whatever."
Sitting beside a grave mound, Monka planted his axe on the ground. "Don't just stand there without saying anything. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Anyone would be afraid when facing those monsters. That isn't abandoning your comrades. We have to stay alive if we want to avenge them."
"Later, follow me around the back mountain and bypass the branch. We'll find a small boat and hide at sea for a while. Once we contact the other branches, we'll be safe. Then..."
He raised his head and looked at the other man. "You're still a second-class private, right?"
"I used to be a second-class private too. The credit for capturing Kuro wasn't enough to promote me to colonel. It was only because Branch 153 suffered such serious losses that I was exceptionally promoted... It's an unspoken rule within the Marines."
As long as someone survived, the positions left vacant by the dead would be filled from among the survivors first.
Perhaps the Marines had originally meant well, hoping those who came later would remember that their peace had been earned through the fearless struggle of their predecessors.
But today, it had become a shortcut for people greedy for wealth and status to feast on the blood of the dead.
"Maybe you can even get yourself promoted to major."
From second-class private to major, he would have to cross eight ranks—first-class private, corporal, sergeant, master sergeant, warrant officer, second lieutenant, lieutenant, and captain. It was practically a meteoric rise!
Monka did not believe the man would not be tempted.
Yet the man remained silent, his eyes fixed tightly on Monka without saying a word.
Combined with the silent gravestones around them, the atmosphere was deeply unsettling.
"Enough!"
Monka frowned.
He had only said so much because the man had risked his life to protect him earlier, and his loyalty had been acceptable. Did he really think Monka liked keeping potential trouble around?
If he dared say the word "no"...
The axe handle turned, and the cold blade glinted beneath the moonlight.
"Why...?"
Suddenly, the man let out a question as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"Hm?"
Monka froze.
"Why?"
The voice gradually grew louder, making Monka feel that something was wrong.
"Why?!!!!"
The third cry became a piercing scream. The soul core exploded, and the sallow, filthy "impurities" representing that question spread throughout his body, completely enveloping him... no, it!
This was hatred visible to the naked eye!
The stronger its attachment to life had been before, the stronger its hatred for Monka was now.
It roared, "Why, why," but by now, even it no longer knew what those syllables meant.
Watching it charge at him on all fours, and seeing the gaping wound at the back of its head where brain matter was visible when it lowered its body, Monka's scalp went numb.
There was no doubt.
This was also an undead!
Remembering how much he had just said to a corpse...
Embarrassment?
No. All that remained was fear.
"Get away!!"
An explosive crack rang out as the axe tore through the air and came crashing down.
Driven by the double pressure of fear and death, Monka felt that his "axe technique" had advanced another step. He felt as though nothing could withstand his blade.
But his opponent soon proved that was merely an illusion.
Crack!
The powerful axe blow smashed hard into the other man's back, easily tearing through flesh, only to make a crisp sound when it struck bone.
Lowett had fused that hatred into its bones, helping him attain enlightenment.
Unaware that someone had been manipulating everything behind the scenes, Monka immediately realized something was wrong when his axe failed to cleave through his opponent.
As a standard short weapon, once an axe could reach someone's back, the distance between them was already extremely close.
Crunch!
Opening its mouth wide, the resentful undead bit viciously into Monka's waist. It lifted its head and tore away a large chunk of flesh.
Teeth were bones too. If even its spine had become that hard, there was no reason its teeth would be fragile.
The agonizing pain made Monka's eyes redden. He grabbed the other man by the shoulder and flung him away.
Thud!
The resentful undead crashed into a tombstone, its head making a dull, teeth-grinding impact. But in the next second, it immediately crawled back up and pounced again.
It was undead. The undead had no need for pain.
Its body would not issue warnings, nor did its brain need to keep the body from collapsing. Until every bone was destroyed, it would not stop attacking.
With hatred, it would bite and tear and pounce to kill!
"Don't... don't come any closer!"
Monka screamed in terror. His kidney had nearly been bitten through. That fear of being food was something humans had only ever felt in the presence of wild beasts.
But today, there would be one more thing to fear.
Under the moonlight, one man and one beast danced together. Flying strands of blood served as their strings, while their different howls formed the accompaniment. In this vast, silent cemetery, they played a requiem called Revenge.
"Very interesting, isn't it?"
Suddenly, an incongruous voice appeared in the middle of the scene.
Seeing that face, Monka's pupils contracted, and he could not help freezing. "It's you...!!"
Crunch!!
He froze, but the resentful undead did not.
It seized the opportunity and bit down, tearing open his windpipe.
With bewilderment in his eyes, Monka was knocked to the ground by the resentful undead. The latter lay on top of him, chewing, tearing, and roaring without pause like a starving mad dog, determined to vent all its hatred for the world.
It clearly was not a Ghoul, yet it possessed such intense "appetite"...
"Ze hahahahaha! That makes it even more interesting!!"
Under the moonlight, the Black Knight stood in the distance, holding a Den Den Mushi that was struggling to keep its eyes open. He silently watched his master laugh wildly beside the two corpses.
The next day, Shells Town.
"Why did I sleep here all night?"
A fisherman gathering his nets stood up in confusion, stumbling beneath his feet and nearly falling into the seawater.
"Ow... my legs are numb!"
He stomped his feet hard, patted the dew off his body, and sneezed.
"Achoo! What a lousy day."
Muttering complaints, he tossed the fishing net into his boat and prepared to find the town's new doctor for some medicine.
Since he had not finished sorting his nets, there was no point going out to sea today.
As a resident of a town protected by a Marine branch, he had food stored at home. He could afford this small bit of willfulness.
When he returned to town, the clinic was not open.
The fisherman muttered that the new doctor was really lazy, then decided to eat breakfast first.
"Ah!!"
Suddenly, a shrill scream came from ahead, making his whole body tremble.
"What happened?!"
He hurried over. Along the way, several residents with puzzled expressions ran down the street with him. As islanders, they understood well that only unity allowed them to survive.
By the time they reached the end of the street, the entrance to Branch 153 was already packed with people.
"Make way, let me through... I'm a doctor!"
Unable to squeeze through the crowd, the fisherman shouted.
He had no idea why he had claimed to be a doctor.
But the crowd bought it. Hearing this, they quickly made a path for him.
With his old face flushed red in embarrassment, the fisherman carefully walked to the front of the crowd and looked up.
"Ah!!!"
An even more miserable scream burst from his throat. The fisherman's vision went dark, and he fainted.
No wonder they had made way for a doctor...
That was what the fisherman thought before losing consciousness.
Before the green-striped tower of Branch 153, blood-drenched corpses had been nailed to the wall with wooden stakes. The bodies had been arranged into the two chilling characters for "Justice"!
Under the morning light, every twisted, horrifying face was clearly visible. Who knew what terror they had suffered before dying?
Several days later, shocking news spread across the entire East Blue.
All 227 members of East Blue Marine Branch 153 had been wiped out overnight. Not a single one survived!
Only Colonel Chrisman, who had been ordered to leave that day, and a small number of soldiers had escaped disaster.
But strangely, despite Shells Town being right next to the branch, the residents had heard nothing all night. They had even slept exceptionally soundly.
No pirates claimed responsibility for the incident, nor did the Marines offer any reasonable explanation.
Even the Marines themselves could find no clues and did not understand what had happened.
For a time, the entire East Blue was gripped by panic.
Coupled with the increasingly frequent rumors of ghost ships near Branch 16, oppression and fear gathered in everyone's hearts.
Waiting to erupt.
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