The figurehead's pupils abruptly contracted.
Deep within the island, a crimson torrent rolled over ruins and shattered walls, sweeping toward them as though to devour everything.
It made no distinction between vegetation and steel, merely submerging, covering, and saturating everything in silence.
Splash!
The tide formed from countless piled-up puppets finally struck the shore, stopped by the deep blue sea.
All of Scrap Iron Island was steeped in dark red. No other color remained visible.
Writhing bodies covered every inch of ground, like an enormous sheet of wet skin spread across it.
The survivors on deck shuddered in unison.
"It's just... like a nightmare."
"Are all the Shichibukai... monsters like this?"
"Can Lord Katakuri and the others... really win?"
"There's no point discussing that now."
A calm voice rang out. "If they lose, with that Impaler's methods, even a ship won't help us escape."
Everyone turned, stunned.
"Who are you?"
"Hmph."
The woman with her mask hanging askew on her forehead folded her arms and raised her chin slightly. "You're not qualified to ask."
Several pirates instinctively tightened their grips on their sword hilts.
"Stop!"
The White Crane folded its wings and landed on deck. The Rabbit-Eared Spearman leaped off its back. "She's a guest of the Family. Her people are helping Lord Katakuri attack Alucard."
With that, he turned to look at the island-it had become a solid scab of blood.
Could Lord Katakuri succeed? If he failed, even an excuse like "an inadequate mount"
would probably seem laughable.
"Ugh, aaah-"
"Kill... kill..."
Filthy red arms, hollow eye sockets, and rows of opening and closing teeth filled their vision.
They surged in from every direction like unceasing waves, broken roars forced from their throats as they tried to swallow those few solitary figures whole.
Slash!
A blade sliced