East Blue Shaken!

Thump!

Fleeing in disarray, Morgan smashed through the flimsy wooden fence and fell into the mud. Only then did he regain some semblance of clarity, looking around.

"Where is this...!"

The dark earth reflected a faint glow under the moonlight, and pale tombstones stood silently before him.

The guardhouse was pitch black. The old man who always sat under the dim lamplight reading the newspaper was nowhere to be found.

This was the small town cemetery in Shells Town.

Gulp...!

The eerie cemetery was eerily silent. The land of the dead reminded Morgan of the pursuers behind him. He swallowed and pushed himself up, using his hands to support himself on the dirt.

He glanced at the guardhouse. The pitch-black room felt like something was watching him. Forcing down the urge to investigate, Morgan wiped the sweat and dirt from his clothes, gripping the axe handle.

"This should be safe... right?"

By now, Morgan had figured it out. That must have been the effect of some kind of Devil Fruit. Otherwise, if there were truly spirits at play, they, as Navy members, wouldn't have encountered them.

Only the Devil Fruit Compendium, updated annually, could prove that many unknown Devil Fruits still existed in this world.

The appearance of spirits was incredible, but their form of existence did not exceed the scope of understanding.

If nothing else, the mythical figures in the hearts of almost the entire Navy, the Three Admirals, and their Logia-type Devil Fruits, rendering physical attacks ineffective – what was the principle behind that? It was far more bizarre than spirits.

And...

"Since Colonel Alva appeared there, this cemetery must already be filled with empty graves."

Morgan found the grave of a soldier buried after the last tragedy and, with a forceful swing, split open the tombstone.

Crack!

In a few swift moves, he dug away the dirt covering the coffin. Staring at the dark wooden coffin, Morgan took a deep breath and kicked it.

A stench of decay immediately billowed out, making him gag.

Looking at the corpse inside, half-rotted and with its former features still vaguely discernible, Morgan's face instantly turned pale.

Wriggling insects and ants made the corpse's expression seem alive, as if saying, Surprised? Shocked?

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

At this moment, dull thudding sounds struck in rapid succession. With no time to think, Morgan gripped his axe and turned.

"Why are you here?!"

He vaguely recognized the person who had appeared. It was one of the soldiers who had helped him fend off the enemy's attack earlier.

At this moment, the person stood before the broken cemetery fence, tilting their head motionlessly. Moonlight spilled from behind, casting a long shadow on the ground.

Seeing a "familiar" face, Morgan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you the only one who escaped? Never mind."

Sitting beside a grave, Morgan propped himself up with his axe. "Don't stay silent. There's no need to be embarrassed. Facing those monsters, fear is natural. This isn't abandoning your comrades; we can avenge them only if we live."

"Later, you'll follow me around the back of the branch and find a small boat to escape by sea for a while. As long as we contact other branches, we'll be safe. Then..."

He looked up at the other person. "You're still a Private, right?"

"I was a Private too. The credit for arresting Kuro wasn't enough for me to be promoted to Captain, but considering the heavy losses at Branch 153, I was promoted exceptionally... it's an unwritten rule within the Navy."

As long as someone survived, the vacant positions left by the deceased would be prioritized for selection from the survivors.

Perhaps the Navy's original intention was good, to make those who came after remember that the peace they enjoyed today was earned through the arduous efforts of their predecessors.

But today, it had become a shortcut for the greedy to profit from others' misfortune.

"Perhaps, you could also snag a Major position."

From Private to Major, there were eight ranks in between: First Class Private, Corporal, Sergeant, Staff Sergeant, Warrant Officer, Second Lieutenant, First Lieutenant, and Captain. It was an unprecedented leap!

Morgan didn't believe the other person wouldn't be tempted.

However, the person remained silent, their eyes fixed on Morgan, not uttering a word.

Coupled with the silent tombstones surrounding them, the atmosphere was chilling.

"Enough!"

Morgan frowned.

He had said so much out of consideration for the other person's desperate protection earlier and their seemingly loyal service. Did they really think he enjoyed leaving potential threats behind?

As long as they dared to say "no"...

The axe handle turned, its cold blade glinting under the moonlight.

"Why...?"

Suddenly, the other person uttered a question, as faint as a mosquito's hum.

"Hmm?"

Morgan paused.

"Why?"

The voice grew louder, making Morgan feel something was wrong.

"Why?!!!!"

The third shout turned into a piercing scream, the Soul Core exploding. The "impurities" of questioning, a sickly yellow filth, surged through its entire body, engulfing it... no, it!

Completely!

This was a visible abomination!

The stronger its previous desire to live, the stronger its hatred for Morgan now.

It roared "Why, why," though it didn't even know the meaning of those syllables itself anymore.

Seeing it charge towards him on all fours, and the gaping wound on the back of its head revealing brain matter as it lowered its body, Morgan's scalp instantly went numb.

Without a doubt.

This was also an undead!

To think he had just spoken so much to a corpse...

Shame?

No, he was only left with fear.

"Get lost!!"

A shattering explosion rang out, an axe sliced through the air, and descended heavily.

Under the dual pressure of fear and death, Morgan felt his "Axe Technique" advance, a powerful sensation of being unstoppable.

But his opponent quickly proved him wrong.

Can't find the book title, you can try searching for the author, maybe the name has changed!

Crack!

This powerful axe strike landed heavily on the opponent's back, easily tearing through flesh, but produced a crisp sound against bone.

Lowett helped it integrate that power of hatred into its bones, aiding its ascension.

Completely unaware that someone was manipulating events from behind the scenes, Morgan knew he was in trouble when his axe failed to break his opponent.

As a standard short-range weapon, when an axe could hit the opponent's back, the distance was already extremely close.

Crunch!

Opening its mouth wide, the vengeful spirit zombie bit down hard on Morgan's waist. It looked up and tore off a large chunk of flesh.

Teeth were also bone, and when the spine became so hard, there was no reason for the teeth to be fragile.

The intense pain made Morgan's eyes turn red. He grabbed the opponent's shoulder and flung it away.

Thump!

The vengeful spirit zombie slammed into a tombstone, its head making a sickening thud. But the next second, it immediately got back up and lunged again.

It was an undead; undead didn't need to feel pain.

Its body wouldn't issue warnings, and its brain didn't need to maintain its physical integrity. It wouldn't stop attacking until every bone was destroyed.

Driven by hatred, it bit and lunged!

"Don't... don't come near me!"

Morgan screamed in terror, his kidney nearly bitten through. That fear of being prey, humans only felt it with wild beasts.

Yet today, there would be one more.

Under the moonlight, one person and one beast danced, the flying bloodstains their strings, their different roars their accompaniment. In this empty, silent graveyard, they jointly played the requiem called Revenge.

"Very interesting, isn't it?"

Suddenly, a discordant voice appeared in the center of the field.

Seeing that face, Morgan's pupils contracted, and he couldn't help but freeze, "It's you...!!"

Crunch!!

He froze, but the vengeful spirit zombie didn't.

Taking the opportunity, it bit down, tearing open his trachea.

Morgan's eyes held shock as he was pounced on and pinned to the ground by the vengeful spirit zombie. The latter gnawed, tore, and roared on top of him, like a starving mad dog, venting its hatred for the world.

It wasn't a ghoul, yet it had such intense "appetite"...

"Teeheeheehee, this is even more interesting!!"

Under the moonlight, the Black Knight stood in the distance, holding a Den Den Mushi that was struggling to open its eyes. He quietly watched his master laugh uncontrollably beside two corpses.

The next day, Shells Town.

"Why did I sleep here all night?"

A fisherman packing up his fishing nets stood up in confusion, staggering and nearly falling into the sea.

"Hiss... My leg's gone numb!"

He stomped his foot hard, brushed the dew off his clothes, and sneezed.

"Ah-choo! What a rotten day."

Muttering to himself, he tossed the fishing net into his boat, preparing to find the town's new doctor for some medicine.

Since the net wasn't fixed, there was no way he was going out to sea today.

As a resident of a town with a Navy branch, and with plenty of food at home, he had this little bit of freedom to be willful.

Returning to town, the clinic wasn't open.

The fisherman grumbled that the new doctor was really lazy and decided to get some breakfast first.

"Ah!!"

Suddenly, a piercing scream came from ahead, making him jump.

"What happened?!"

He hurried over, and some confused-looking residents joined him, running down the street. As islanders, they clearly understood the truth that unity was survival.

By the time they reached the end of the street, in front of the entrance to Branch 153, a crowd had already gathered.

"Move aside, let me through... I'm the doctor!"

The fisherman couldn't push through, so he yelled.

Though he didn't know why he'd claimed to be a doctor.

But the crowd was quite receptive, and they parted to make way upon hearing him.

With a blushing face, the fisherman carefully walked to the front of the crowd and looked up.

"Ah!!!"

An even more piercing scream erupted from his throat. The fisherman's vision went dark, and he fainted.

No wonder they made way for the doctor...

The fisherman thought this before passing out.

In front of the tall tower of Branch 153, with its interwoven green stripes, bloody corpses were impaled on wooden stakes and nailed to the wall. The bodies were arranged to form the chilling word "Justice"!

Under the dawn light, their twisted, terrified faces were clearly visible, and one could only imagine the horror they experienced before death.

Several days later, a shocking piece of news spread throughout the East Blue.

All 227 members of Navy Branch 153 in the East Blue were wiped out overnight, with no survivors!

Only Colonel Chrisman and a few soldiers, who were ordered away that day, managed to escape.

But strangely, the residents of Shells Town, which was right next to the branch, heard nothing all night and slept very soundly.

No pirates claimed responsibility, and no Navy offered a reasonable explanation.

Even the Navy itself couldn't figure it out, not understanding what had happened.

For a time, the entire East Blue was in turmoil.

Coupled with the increasingly frequent ghost ship legends near Branch 16, oppression and fear gathered in everyone's hearts.

Waiting to erupt.

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It's been half a month since the book was published and it's only now on its first trial recommendation. I really can't take it.

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