"Did you hear that?" Turner asked, finally putting down his chopsticks, a sense of relief washing over him.
"Anyone who isn't blind heard it," Morin replied, glancing at the already drunk and seemingly unconscious Jack beside him.
"...And a drunkard."
To celebrate his two top managers officially joining his side-and the third soon to arrive-Morin had decided, on a whim, to host a small gathering.
He even cooked the meal himself.
Morin's cooking skills were exceptional.
After all these years, even a pig would've learned how to cook three dishes and a soup, let alone someone who could judge doneness at a glance, accurate beyond the decimal point.
When it came to food, Morin never settled for mediocrity if he had a choice.
It was one of his few indulgences.
So he had deliberately learned to cook.
If Morin hadn't insisted on using chopsticks as a form of casual cruelty, Turner would've been in heaven.
The dishes Morin-the "great" boss-had made included mapo tofu, sliced pork, shrimp, ice powder, and more.
For Turner, who had already tasted some of them and knew how good they were, the situation was borderline torture.
If the dishes he'd tried were that good, then the rest had to be just as good.
Not eating them felt like a loss.
But Turner still didn't dare overstep, so he could only stare at the food with longing.
The greatest torment was having something right in front of you and being unable to touch it.
Turner learned that lesson firsthand.
Jack, on the other hand, didn't care.
Rules weren't something he concerned himself with.
He also seemed to know how to use chopsticks.
Years of experience had taught him enough to clumsily scoop food straight from the bowl.
Still, Jack was far more interested in the rum.
He'd already drunk over half the bottle and was on the verge of passing out.
"That sound..." Jack suddenly lifted his head, his words slurred, fingers still curled out of habit.
"Is that my... ship?"
His head dropped.
He passed out completely.
"...What did he just say?" Turner asked, still sober enough to process it. "His ship?"
"When that coin touches seawater, it activates a powerful magic," Morin said calmly. "It allows the cursed to sense its location."
"To break the curse, all the coins must be returned to the stone chest on the Isle of the Dead."
"Blood must be repaid with blood."
"They're here?" Turner's eyes widened.
"Are they looking for me?"
"They're looking for you," Morin said, patting his shoulder, "and the coin."
A ripple spread from Morin's hand-something no ordinary person could see.
"I don't need to tell you who has the coin right now, do I?"
"Elizabeth's in danger!" Turner shouted.
He turned and rushed out.
"One hero rescuing the damsel is enough," Morin murmured, withdrawing his hand and turning toward the harbor.
"As for the rest..."
It was time to bring his third manager onboard.
Hector Barbossa.
"Bring back the coin," Barbossa roared, "and the descendant of Bootstrap Bill Turner!"
Under the cover of cannon fire, the immortal pirates descended from the Black Pearl.
They boarded small boats, landed at the harbor, and scattered.
Some rushed toward the coin.
The others prepared to pillage.
Then-
Fear.
Every pirate felt it at once.
A rare fear.
Since becoming cursed, hunger, rage, and desire had intensified.
Fear, however, had almost disappeared.
After all, if you couldn't die, what was there to fear?
They feared eternity.
This unending, hollow existence.
But this time was different.
What they felt now was fear of death itself.
It was as if darkness had met the sun.
A clear sense of doom settled over them.
They stopped.
The fleeing civilians vanished into the distance.
Silence fell.
Then footsteps.
"It seems your curse has some resistance to my magic," a voice said.
A man appeared.
He held a long sword crackling with electricity.
Morin.
The Sword of Eden, unused for a long time, hummed in his hand.
He was thinking.
Something about the pirates' reaction was off.
Then he understood.
Morin had activated his Master-level Aura of Justice, Heart of Justice, and Eye of Justice.
For the first time since reaching Master rank.
Through the Eye of Justice, he saw it clearly.
The pirates' curse conflicted with his Aura of Justice the moment they entered its range.
It restrained them.
Realizing this, Morin increased the output.
In his vision, the purple mist clinging to their bodies was rapidly stripped away.
It still regenerated-
But far slower than it was being erased.
"It seems..." Morin rolled his neck, letting it crack.
"You won't live to see that day."
There was no reason to keep ruthless pirates alive.
Originally, he'd planned to study the curse at the Isle of the Dead, break it, then kill them.
Now?
Earlier worked too.
Barbossa was different.
Barbossa was useful.
This wasn't hypocrisy.
Useless people could be killed and counted as a good deed.
Useful ones could be used first.
Then judged later.
Morin wasn't a saint.
He'd killed plenty himself.
Who was innocent?
Who was guilty?
That depended on perspective.
Trying to draw perfect lines would only drive someone mad.
The world was never black and white.
"Bah!" a pirate leader shouted. "Even if he's a wizard, he can't kill us!"
"Charge!"
They rushed him.
Morin noticed something.
The one shouting had already started backing away.
"Leaving a messenger might be useful," Morin thought.
He raised the Sword of Eden.
Swung.
Lightning tore through the pirates.
Morin reappeared on the far side, walking away at an unhurried pace.
Behind him-
Charred remains.
Broken bodies.
The immortal pirates had regained their original flesh.
The curse was broken.
The price was death.
"Watch out!" Norrington shouted from the wall, shooting a pirate still moving despite a sword through his chest.
He saved Wetherby.
"Thank you!" Wetherby gasped.
Then he saw it.
A headless body twitching.
A severed head still yelling.
He screamed and nearly fainted, hiding behind Norrington.
"What in the world is that?!"
"They're immortal," Norrington said grimly, pistol in one hand, sword in the other.
"How is that possible?"
"Nothing is impossible," a voice said behind them.
"And nothing is immortal forever."
"Mr. Morin?" both men said at once.
They turned.
Morin stood there, Sword of Eden crackling.
They tensed.
Given recent discussions about Morin-and the immortal pirates-his timing was... unsettling.
"Long ago, on a small island in Hawaii," Morin said casually, "I learned some magic tricks."
"And acquired this weapon."
He walked past them toward the battlefield.
"I haven't used it in a long time."
"I didn't expect to see cursed creatures this pathetic again."
"They're immortal!" Norrington warned.
"Immortal?" Morin shook his head.
"You just lack the right tools."
"Prepare to clean up."
"This will be over quickly."
Lightning flashed.
Morin vanished.
Appeared.
Vanished again.
Bodies fell.
When the light faded, only scattered remains lay across the ground.
The soldiers stood frozen.
Then-
"Lightning!" one soldier shouted. "It was a god!"
"A god helped us!"
"Thank God!"
"Praise God!"
Faith spread quickly.
What else could explain it?
Wetherby and Norrington exchanged looks.
They had spoken to that "god."
"...I don't think we need to verify his identity anymore," Norrington said hoarsely.
"If he had ill intentions, we couldn't stop him anyway."
"You're right," Wetherby nodded.
"We'll pretend none of this happened."
"Captain! Captain!"
Barbossa heard the frantic shouting and pushed open his cabin door.
"What's all this noise?" he demanded.
A pirate stumbled in and threw himself at Barbossa's leg.
"Captain! Trouble!"
"What trouble?" Barbossa kicked him away.
"They're dead!" the pirate screamed. "A wizard! A demon with a lightning sword!"
"You're immortal, idiot," Barbossa snarled, stabbing him repeatedly.
No blood.
No pain.
"Even if he's a wizard, he can't kill you."
"Unless he's a god."
"Someone who ignores the curse."
"I have to say," a voice whispered beside him, "I'm not a god."
"But killing your 'immortal' crew-"
Lightning flashed.
A sword streaked past Barbossa's face and pinned the pirate's head to the mast.
The electricity faded.
The body didn't heal.
Barbossa staggered back, sword raised.
"Who are you?!"
Moonlight revealed the man.
Handsome.
Hands behind his back.
A faint smile.
"Hello, Captain Barbossa," he said calmly.
"I'm Morin."
"And I'll be your boss."
"Soon."
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