Gululu—
Bubbles drifted upward beside the Terror Ghost, shimmering against the eerie green barrier that clung to its battered, pitch-black hull like a film of light.
The deeper they sank, the colder and darker the waters became.
They were several thousand meters below the surface now—still some distance away from Fish-Man Island, which lay ten thousand meters under the sea.
Standing at the rail, Davy Jones peered into the abyss below. The nearer they drew, the stronger the familiar pull he felt—a call from the depths.
He knew.
It was the Flying Dutchman, calling to him.
For the Devil Fruit users aboard, the suffocating weight of seawater all around pressed into their minds. Though the spectral green light guarded them, each could vividly imagine themselves drowning helplessly, swallowed by the ocean, crushed by its pressure.
One by one, they retreated into the safety of the cabins, preferring to distract themselves inside rather than dwell on such thoughts.
Only Porche and Hachi remained outside. One was the navigator, the other a native of Fish-Man Island, able to guide them through its terrain with ease. Neither felt the same strain as the others.
Soon, the black ship reached a massive trench. Currents cascaded down into its depths like an underwater waterfall—an awe-inspiring sight.
This was the entrance to Fish-Man Island.
Porche twirled her baton with one hand, pointing into the trench with the other. She laughed sweetly:
"Captain, at the bottom of that trench is Fish-Man Island. They say the whole place is wrapped in a giant bubble. Isn't that right, Hachi?"
"Nyu, that's right," Hachi said, scratching the back of his head with a dopey grin. "I know Fish-Man Island better than anyone. Once we're there, I'll take you around the Ryugu Kingdom."
He really did know it well—both the bustling avenues of the upper districts and the lawless slums of Fish-Man District.
But he wondered… how many of his old friends were still alive? Did they even remember the octopus fish-man who had left for East Blue all those years ago?
Just then, Davy Jones sensed something amiss.
Deep in the trench, a massive beast lurked. Like a spider on its web, it waited motionless for prey to stray too near. It seemed harmless now, but the moment prey fell within reach, it would strike.
"Hachi. What is that?"
Hachi leaned out over the rail, all six arms gripping tight as he squinted into the dark. When he finally recognized the shape, his eyes bulged.
"That looks like… the Kraken! Why is it here?"
"The Kraken?" Porche paled, shrinking back behind her captain.
She knew the legend well. The Kraken was the demon of the deep, a monster that attacked coated ships without mercy. Countless witnesses had seen it in action.
"Captain, maybe… maybe we should take another route?" she suggested nervously.
But Davy Jones gave her no answer.
The creature soon revealed itself in full.
A colossal monster, part octopus, part squid, its body gleamed a sickly orange. Each tentacle dwarfed the Terror Ghost—a single casual coil could crush the ship to splinters.
At that moment, the Kraken had one such tentacle wrapped around a coated vessel.
Crack.
The ship snapped apart like a toy. Its crew spilled into the freezing depths—where the pressure reduced them instantly to bloody mist.
The Kraken feasted, as though cracking open a tin of "human preserves" in the abyss.
Porche and Hachi shuddered, then turned in dread toward their captain.
To their shock, Davy Jones stepped onto the rail. Without a word, he leapt through the green barrier, plunging into the black water. His tendrils writhed eagerly as they touched the sea, as though electrified.
Hmph.
The Kraken of the North Sea?
Memories surfaced—of that cursed Lord who had forced him, who had driven him to slay his own "Kraken." And now, here before him, another.
What a twist of fate.
Davy Jones arrowed through the icy depths, the crushing pressure meaningless to him. From beneath his cloak, his tentacles streamed like banners in the current.
The Kraken noticed him and let out an eerie, rumbling cry.
Its many arms spread like petals, then shot toward him like ropes of execution, intent on binding him fast.
But Davy Jones did not flinch.
Vmmmm—
A pulse of Conqueror's Haki rippled through the water. The buzzing wave froze the Kraken's movements mid-lash, halting its massive limbs in place.
A primal instinct of fear pierced the beast's mind. If it struck at this figure—this monster—it would be torn apart.
It would die. Certainly, it would die.
Trembling, the Kraken slowly retracted its arms.
Davy Jones nodded.
"Good… good, Kraken. It would have been a shame if I'd had to slay a second of your kind."
He extended a hand.
The Kraken seemed to understand. It loosed its grip on the cliff edge, swung its titanic bulk closer, and drifted before him.
Carefully, gingerly, it pressed its comparatively small head against his palm—once, twice. Finding the right distance, it finally settled there, letting him stroke it.
A smile tugged at Davy Jones' lips.
Porche gaped at the sight below.
"W-Wait… the Kraken is that gentle?"
Hachi shook his head.
"No. It's always been savage. Back then, we couldn't tame it. Arlong said the only way was to threaten its kin—to force it into obedience."
"Then how is the captain—?"
"Nyu… it must know it can't defeat him. Just like us—it's chosen to submit."
"To think… the captain subdued the Kraken of the deep with sheer presence alone…"
As the two whispered in awe, Davy Jones stroked the Kraken's tentacle once more, then glanced toward the trench it had cleared.
"You'll lead the way."
The Kraken understood. With a rumble, it slipped into the trench, opening the path.
Davy Jones turned, swimming back to the Terror Ghost. Clambering aboard, his soaked cloak clung to him only for a moment—then the seawater beaded into pearls and rolled off, clattering across the deck before vanishing into the seams of the planks.
The ship shuddered suddenly, like a living fish, and darted after the Kraken into the trench, swallowed by darkness.
Inside was pure blackness.
The tremors and echoes drew the crew out from their cabins until they were gathered together on deck.
"How deep are we now?" Buggy asked curiously.
"Seven, maybe eight thousand meters," Porche estimated. "We're close to Fish-Man Island."
Crocodile said nothing, his gaze grim. He hated this journey beneath the sea—hated it more than most Devil Fruit users. But for the sake of his goal, he endured.
Perona clutched her stuffed bear tightly, her wide eyes darting about the gloom. The sight unsettled her deeply. It looked too much like the visions Captain Davy Jones had once shown her.
If not for the ghostly green barrier, none of them would have seen anything at all in the dark.
Boom—
A thunderous roar rumbled ahead. Rocks tumbled, currents surged, and the water bloomed red with blood.
Soon, mangled flesh, fins, and monstrous heads drifted past the ship, illuminated for an instant by the green light before vanishing again.
"What the hell are those?" Buggy blurted out.
Hachi, who knew the truth, explained:
"The trench is full of sea beasts—each one terrifying. But the Kraken is stronger. It's tearing them all apart!"
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