Dusk.
The orange-red sunlight fell across the dark green warship, making it look as if it were smeared with blood.
"Things are finally starting to get interesting."
Buggy muttered a few words, the corners of his mouth naturally curling up.
The islanders' homes sat beside the harbor, on a hill that ran along the coast.
The higher ground gave him a clear view of the flames rising from the warship.
He smacked his lips again. "But if this is all they can manage, they still won't turn into the people I want to see."
The seeds of chaos had been planted, but Buggy had no patience to wait for them to sprout.
One-sided coverage from a newspaper alone probably wouldn't be enough to tear apart the Marines before him.
It wasn't impossible for a barracks fire incident to happen in the Navy. But compared with the concentrated army, the Navy's personnel were more dispersed, making it less likely that they would all feel the same panic and helplessness at once—and be swept along by those emotions.
Or rather, it would be more difficult.
"But that just gives me something to do. Hehehe."
Buggy snickered and nibbled a few more crackers. When he reckoned enough time had passed,
he headed for the harbor.
He had a very exciting idea.
If the Marines couldn't break this inertia on their own, he'd add another log to the fire.
"Let's add a little color to this dull world together."
He licked his split lip and grinned.
This time, the corners of his mouth carried the same particularly decadent feeling he'd sensed back in Arkham.
As his Splitting of emotions and perception of the world grew stronger, Buggy's own Splitting Ability was also steadily increasing.
The Devil generously shared his power with one of his