Chapter 9

The sailors belonging to Dafuransi lay sprawled in all directions. Some rolled about clutching their heads, while others tried to push themselves up, only to stagger and fall again-the sonic waves had disrupted the organs in their heads that governed balance.

Doffy had already ducked low and nimbly rolled behind the mainmast, his flintlock pistol held against his chest as his gaze swept the chaos around him.

The screams had come from the cabins.

If even the Navigator's men, who were farthest away, were in such a sorry state, what about the two groups blocking the door to the Captain's Quarters?

Crash-

An enormous man drenched in blood rose amid shattered wood and severed limbs.

He looked around:

Some had broken blades lodged in their bellies, some had lost their hands and feet to who knew where, and more were bodies whose chests barely rose and fell, rapidly losing warmth...

These were all his trusted men.

If they had not swarmed through that doorway, they would never have ended up like this.

As for the captain's men? Finding even one intact corpse would have been lucky.

"Krahorn..."

The enormous man forced the name through clenched teeth.

"You hellbound bastard!"

He had even used his own men as bait, planting those stones in the Captain's Quarters-

Bang!

The roar cut off.

The bald boatswain whipped his head around, his bloodshot eyes fixing on the group on the foredeck.

Who had fired?

Dafuransi's men turned ashen, wishing they could throw the companion whose gun had gone off into the sea.

But it was already too late.

The boatswain strode forward. Though his saber had been blasted who knew where, he still held that heavy ** axe.

"Die!"

He charged, spun, and swept the axe blade through a semicircle-swinging it like a hammer thrower.

Whoosh!

The rushing wind abruptly tore through the air, roaring like a sail stretched taut in a storm.

"Get back!"

The sailor at the front had barely shouted before his body drifted lightly to one side.

No, not his entire body.

Everything below his waist remained standing where it was.

"Help... help me..."

The man, severed in two, could still reach out, his five fingers clawing wildly at the air.

Another gunshot answered him.

Dafuransi lowered the smoking barrel. His usual refined expression had long since fallen away, leaving only cold, hard killing intent.

"Finish Alec off."

His voice was like a frozen blade. "This ship will be ours tonight."

The Navigator's fingers had barely touched the sword hilt at his waist before he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Hiss-

The instant the two shadows brushed past each other, a scarlet arc opened beneath the boatswain's ribs.

"I may not hold a sword often,"

The strike was so fast that even Rossi, watching from the shadows, caught only an afterimage. By the time he realized what had happened, drops of blood had already splashed onto the ship's rail.

"but dealing with a half-fish crossbreed like you hardly requires much skill."

The Pinta's deck was soaked dark red, severed limbs scattered like fragments of masts shattered by a storm.

This long-running hunt was finally drawing to a close.

The bald boatswain's breathing rasped like broken bellows.

He had already been forcing himself to hold on despite severe injuries. Now strength drained from every part of his body like an ebbing tide.

Another cold gleam flashed.

This time, the blade entered through his lower back and emerged through his body with a sticky scraping sound.

Now-

Ferocity blazed in the boatswain's eyes. The muscles around the wound suddenly contracted, clamping tightly around the blade embedded in his body.

With savage determination, he spun and swung his axe. Its bloodstained blade traced a semicircle, intent on cleaving his constantly circling opponent in two.

Squelch!

The dull sound of a sharp weapon cutting through flesh rang out. It had indeed struck its target.

"That was close."

But the axe blade had only embedded itself in an already stiff **.

At the critical moment, Navigator Dafuransi had dragged one of his men in front of him, using that flesh-and-blood shield to absorb the full force of the boatswain's dying counterattack.

Shing.

The Rapier took the opportunity to slide free, trailing a string of blood droplets.

The figure retreated into the shadows again, continuing to keep just out of reach.

"Coward! Useless trash!"

The boatswain's roars grew hoarse. The massive axe slowed visibly, each lift like dragging a sunken anchor from the seabed.

If only his saber were still at his side, if only he had not taken that point-blank ** head-on, if only all his men had not perished before the steps leading to the Captain's Quarters...

Unfortunately, reality allowed no ifs.

The figures moving around him were like a pack of jackals hunting a wounded beast. Sword points and short spears stabbed from every angle, withdrawing swiftly after every touch, never giving him a chance to seize anyone.

Thud!

The axe head, as large as a millstone, slammed into the deck, sending ripples through the pools of blood underfoot.

The light in the boatswain's eyes went out completely. The heart that had beaten stubbornly in his chest for so long fell still after one final spasm.

"He's stopped moving?"

"I think... it's really over."

The bald giant still stood propped on his axe handle, his eyes wide with fury, as though he might erupt into violence the next second.

The few surviving sailors exchanged shaken glances and, as one, released the stale breath they had held for so long.

At last-

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The successive roars of ** cut short their relief.

The smiles just emerging on their faces froze amid sprays of blood, and several sailors toppled backward like puppets with severed strings.

?!

"Sir Krahorn,"

The Navigator's voice turned cold. "What is the meaning of this?"

The Navigator sidestepped the flying fragments and looked toward the owner of that tall hat-the noble captain was stepping out of the ruined command cabin.

"Planting ** substances in the cabin, treating your men as expendable.

Hiding yourself in a reinforced secret room, then coming out now to kill us..."

The Navigator shook his head, regret in his voice.

"Captain, what you've done has truly chilled the men's hearts."

"Enough acting."

The captain, with an ornate cane hanging from him, raised the ** in his other hand, his gaze icy.

"You arranged all of this yourself, didn't you?"

Aboard this ship, the only people capable of silently disposing of any crew member were Boatswain Alec, the Navigator who had just revealed his strength... and Captain Krahorn himself.

No matter how one looked at it, the bald boatswain's reaction hardly resembled that of the mastermind.

And the captain had done nothing, leaving only one possibility:

The seemingly refined man before him.

"Your uncle, old Yule-did you kill him too?"

Faced with the question, the Navigator stood on the body-strewn deck and curled his lips.

That smile reminded Rossi, hidden in the shadows, of some predator cloaked in a splendid exterior.

"Does it matter?"

All around them were bodies that had stopped breathing, or wounded men about to join them.

At this point, the Navigator simply discarded every pretense.

"Everything I did was for the future of the Dafuransi Family.

I'm sure Uncle Yule would understand. Sir Krahorn, you... should be able to understand too, shouldn't you?"

A sudden rush split the air!

He lowered his body and lunged forward.

The instant his words fell, the Navigator had become a swift blur, lunging at the captain with his slender sword in hand.

Once he dealt with the man before him, the entire ship, the cargo in its hold, those smuggled ** minerals... all of it would be his.

Selling them would provide enough starting capital to build a small town.

After a dozen or so years of steady management, Dafuransi would surely become a new noble surname!

Bang! Bang!

Facing an opponent who, even at high speed, still dodged in a "Z"-

shaped path to evade ** fire, the noble captain abruptly discarded his empty firearm, gripped his cane backward in both hands, and swept it outward.

The cane traced a distorted afterimage through the air-proof that its speed had surpassed what the eye could follow.

A piercing shriek erupted with it.

The blow actually produced a sonic boom, showing that the captain, too, had concealed considerable strength.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sword point darted like flowing light, while the cane's shadows formed a protective ring.

Though neither man's technique matched the bald boatswain's overwhelming might, the ferocity of their attacks and defenses was far beyond any ordinary sailor.

"Old bastard, I never thought you were hiding skills like these!"

"Hmph-"

Both men relied primarily on swift attacks.

Sword flashes and cane shadows whirled around them, their shifting steps carving countless whistling trails across the deck.

Yet strangely, neither had suffered so much as a scratch.

The clash on deck looked elegant, but killing intent surged beneath it.

The faint sounds of metal meeting metal were swallowed by the sea wind.

The Rapier cut through the air. The instant it knocked aside that lacquered ** cane, its point sank into the other man's waist and abdomen.

The Navigator's eyes behind his lenses lit up for an instant-he had him.

Yet the expected collapse never came.

The man dressed as a noble turned deathly pale, but did not let go.

He twisted his wrist, silently aiming the end of his cane at his opponent a mere step away.

Bang!

Gun smoke burst out, mingling with the smell of blood.

A flower of blood bloomed on the Navigator's shoulder, and he staggered backward.

The firearm hidden inside the cane revealed its true form.

"It's over."

Instead, the man whose abdomen kept seeping blood pulled his lips into a relaxed smile, as though pain were merely a small price for victory.

But the next second, his smile froze-the opponent who should have been incapacitated lunged again, and the Rapier's cold gleam pierced his chest.

"How... could..."

He coughed up bloody foam, his pupils contracting in horror.

That specially made bullet had clearly been mixed with powder that countered extraordinary beings...

"You thought that was a Devil Fruit's power?"

The Navigator leaned close to his ear, his fingers clamping around his throat, his voice very soft.

"Unfortunately, you guessed the wrong person."

Crack.

The faint sound of his neck breaking was carried away by the wind.

The tall hat rolled onto the dark-red-soaked planks, and all fell silent.

The true hunter often lurked in deeper shadows.

So, when the first ** appeared amid the silent **, the same term surfaced in the minds of both leaders aboard the ship: Devil Fruit user.

The noble captain had directed his suspicions toward the seemingly most capable assistant at his side, never considering that another pair of eyes lurked in the shadows.

-Clang.

Sparks scattered between the two clashing weapons, only to vanish strangely into nothing, as though even the sound had been swallowed by some force.

The Navigator turned, his Rapier firmly blocking the cutlass that had come at him in a surprise attack.

The blade was held by a boy wearing sunglasses, the corners of his mouth stretched into a strange curve.

"I should thank you for clearing away the obstacles, Doffy."

The Navigator's tone was calm. With a flick of his sword, tremendous force knocked the weapon out of the boy's hands.

The first half of the plan had been flawless: use a borrowed blade to **, eliminate the captain, then reap the rewards.

But when the "oriole"

finally showed himself, he found that the "mantis" before him

was far more troublesome than expected.

Sometimes, the balance of power reversed in an instant.

"Fufufu... don't speak too soon."

Before young Doffy's laughter faded, a figure vaulted over the ship's rail onto the deck like a phantom, his footsteps silent even as he crossed the pools of blood.

The figure rushed forward, thrusting the short blade in his hand straight at the Navigator's lower back-

It was Rossi.

The deck gave a muffled ** under the impact.

Rossi's body slammed into the planks, the jolt nearly forcing all the air out of his lungs.

He heard his ribs **, and stars flickered at the edges of his vision.

The salty, briny sea breeze rushed into his throat, mingling with a rusty taste-the blood seeping from his own gums.

"Too green."

The voice came from above, as steady as if it were describing the weather.

The Navigator stood a few paces away, his left hand pressed against the wound on his right shoulder, his fingertips already stained dark red.

His stance remained firm, as though that brief clash had been nothing more than a warm-up. "You two brats, just because you've filled your bellies doesn't mean you can change the outcome."

He was right about that.

Rossi propped up his upper body, the planks beneath his elbows rough enough to scrape his skin raw.