Alvida led Vivi around a massive cactus and soon spotted the black ship moored at the shore, its ominous presence impossible to miss.
On the weathered, retro-style vessel flew a black pirate flag — not the usual white skull, but a monstrous octopus-like creature, its tentacles filling almost the entire lower half of the banner, so vivid it seemed alive.
As if their captain himself were standing before them.
A shiver ran down Vivi's spine. The reality was sinking in — she was about to meet the "The Deep Sea Reaper" she had only ever heard of in rumors.
The moment her foot touched the creaking gangplank, the thought of turning and fleeing flashed through her mind.
But before she could act, Alvida seized her wrist and half-dragged, half-pulled her to a certain door on the ship.
The heavy door was encrusted with barnacles and seaweed for reasons unknown, the gap between its panels slick with briny water. From within came the mad, almost deranged sound of an organ.
Even Alvida had to steel herself before knocking.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The music stopped abruptly. A deep, resonant voice called out from within:
"Enter."
Alvida did not hesitate. She turned the handle, pushed the door open, and ushered Vivi in with a gentle shove.
Vivi stumbled forward, nearly falling, and lifted her head nervously — only to find herself inside a space far beyond reason.
Impossible.
From the outside, this should have been an ordinary cabin. But inside stretched a vast hall — a palace in its own right — defying all logic.
Vivi's pupils quivered in shock before her gaze was drawn, almost against her will, to the figure seated before a massive organ.
The person turned, revealing beneath a tricorn hat a monstrous face wreathed in writhing tentacles. Crab-like claws folded neatly across his lap, and his storm-grey eyes swirled like whirlpools, locking onto Vivi.
Her breath quickened.
This was him — the man from the newspapers. Captain Davy Jones.
Alvida removed her hat and bowed.
"Captain, something's happened in the town on the island. I've brought the woman who stirred up the whirlpool — she can explain—"
"No rush." Davy Jones rose to his feet, cutting her off. "You didn't just bring her back… you've also led a few other guests to us."
Alvida blinked in surprise and turned toward the doorway.
But Davy Jones was already there, stepping out toward the deck.
Alvida quickly pulled Vivi along after him.
Only when Vivi glanced from the Davy Jones outside to the still-empty organ seat did she realize what had just happened.
They emerged onto the deck, where Davy Jones stood still.
At the bow stood a mole and a vulture, both wearing sunglasses and glaring coldly at them.
Vivi gasped in recognition.
"Mr. 13 and Miss Friday — Baroque Works' information and execution agents—"
Before she could finish, Davy Jones drew his pistol and fired, blasting the vulture into nothing but drifting feathers.
The mole screeched and tried to leap ashore, but in an instant Davy Jones was upon it, pinning it to the rail with a boot.
He calmly loaded a second "fear bullet" into his pistol and fired into the back of the mole's head. It went silent.
"Two down," Davy Jones murmured, eyes shifting to the shore. "Two more to go."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa…"
A man with an afro stood on the shore, hands raised in mock fear.
"Let's not be hasty with the gun, okay?"
In truth, he feared no bullets. As a "Paramecia-type Explosion Human," he could absorb and control any blast, no matter the size.
A woman with a parasol yawned.
"So that's Davy Jones, huh? No surprise Princess Vivi ran to him — I told you he'd get in our way."
"Was going to deal with their crew later, but I guess we'll just do it now." The afro man shrugged. "Fine. They're all here — makes it easier to wipe them out at once."
They were Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine, senior numbered agents of Baroque Works.
Unlike the lesser agents blundering around town, they had followed the mole and vulture — Baroque's best trackers — straight here.
Vivi stepped to the rail, teeth clenched in fury at the sight of them.
The memory of Igaram, the nun, and the crowned man buying her time — their battered, desperate figures — flashed in her mind. She didn't even know if they were alive. She had no choice but to stake everything on this black ship.
The afro man ignored her and addressed Davy Jones:
"Hand her over, and I'll give you two days' head start before I come for you."
Davy Jones looked at Vivi for a long moment before answering.
"I refuse."
"What?" Both the afro man and the parasol woman frowned.
"Anything that comes aboard my ship… belongs to me," Davy Jones said. "If you want it, you bring me something I desire in exchange. That's my principle."
That's the sticking point?
The two agents exchanged a look — he had to be joking — then decided in unison to eliminate him.
Mr. 5 dug into his nose, flicking a booger toward the ship.
"Then I'll just blow your ship up and take her myself."
Several gunports snapped open along the black ship's hull. Cannons roared.
One shot collided with the booger mid-air in a fiery explosion. Another slammed into Mr. 5, detonating on impact.
Above, Miss Valentine had lightened herself to the extreme with her "Kiro-Kiro Fruit," drifting up with her parasol to avoid the blast radius. She wasn't worried about her partner — explosions only made him stronger.
Sure enough, Mr. 5 absorbed the blast entirely, unharmed, and began walking toward the ship.
"Doesn't work on me, Davy Jones. I'm the man who's mastered explosions—"
Off to the side, Alvida silently nodded. The captain had drawn out his ability with a single move.
Davy Jones vaulted over the rail, four tentacles snapping outward, slicing through the air as blades of water.
Boom, boom, boom, boom!
Mr. 5 met each slash with explosive punches, dispersing them.
"Useless, useless! You can't touch me!"
He lunged in, feinting with a punch before dropping low, sweeping at Davy Jones' legs.
"Foot Bomb!"
Bang!
In that instant, Davy Jones fired again. The fear bullet froze Mr. 5 mid-motion, his leg stretched straight toward Davy Jones.
Davy Jones lifted his boot and stomped down. Crack. The leg bone snapped. Then a crab claw swung, splitting the man's skull wide open.
Blood and bone sprayed.
Mr. 5's eyes went blank as he collapsed.
High above, Miss Valentine realized something was terribly wrong — too late.
Her partner was dead. Panic and dread seized her as she turned her body downward, suddenly increasing her weight to the maximum.
"Ten-Thousand-Kilo Guillotine!"
Wham!
She smashed into the deck, carving a massive crater.
But there was no Davy Jones beneath her — only the broken body of Mr. 5, thrown there as a decoy.
She stared down at the bloody mess, horrified, before kicking off and lightening herself again, parasol catching the wind.
When she looked for Davy Jones, she saw him airborne as well — black, fleshy wings now sprouting from his back, carrying him toward her like a starving vulture.
Without her partner, without the advantage of the sky, she finally grasped the truth.
Her face went pale. She waved frantically.
"Wait! Wait! I surrender!"
Davy Jones halted with his claw just five centimeters from her skull.
She felt her soul nearly leave her body before the claw withdrew.
"Everyone fears death," Davy Jones said, his gaze weighing on her like the depths of the ocean. "Tell me… what do you have that's worth your life?"
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