Toothpick

On the far side of the deck, the Butcher had no sailors or pirates blocking his view, so he immediately spotted his second mate—and Sifa pointing a gun at Clever Tongue.

He instantly let out an almost inhuman roar. Malice flowed from his eyes, and more than half his reason vanished. The unhealable wound on his body suddenly clenched shut as his muscles contracted, forcibly stopping the continued loss of blood.

Trading his sanity for an increase in every aspect, the Butcher charged at Sifa like a cannonball leaving its barrel.

But before that, Edward's poetry drifted across the deck once more, lending the battle a theatrical air.

"Hold fast to dreams,

For if dreams die,

Life is a bird with broken wings,

That cannot fly;

Hold fast to dreams,

For when dreams fade,

Life is a barren field,

Frozen beneath snow, where nothing grows."

Thus, the charging Butcher suddenly seemed to have his body frozen by ice and snow. His speed plummeted, turning what should have been a timely attempt to knock Sifa aside into something he could only carry out after hearing the gunshot.

Bang!

Blood burst from the second mate's head.

The Butcher glanced at the second mate lying on the ground, fury surging in his eyes as if it would burn away his last shred of reason.

But it did not.

He swiftly reached for a pocket on his body. He intended to use a powerful but dangerous mystical item to end the battle.

However, when he reached into the pocket, he found nothing inside. At some point, someone had sliced open its edge!

Sifa, having climbed back to his feet, saw the small cannon beside him and immediately gave Edward a meaningful look. Edward understood and ran over.

Elsewhere.

The Butcher scanned the deck,