Story Quote: "When justice rots, even the flowers bleed."
The Fumigator remained hidden within the tangled mangroves along Veridia's northern riverbanks. Its crew tended wounds in silence as the echoes of last night's battle rolled across the island like thunder.
They'd freed the slaves, shattered the Donquixote auction, and humiliated the Marines in front of their own men. And the Marines had responded exactly as expected—by calling for blood.
At dawn, Petalhaven was placed under Martial Law. Marine warships surrounded the island's coasts, their white sails blotting out the morning sun. Loudspeakers blared through the canopy:
"By order of the World Government, all pirates and insurgents are to surrender immediately. Harboring fugitives will be punished by death."
Mira tightened her grip on the railing as she listened.
"They're turning the whole island into a cage." "Good thing cages never hold us long," Jett muttered, hammering nails into his damaged gauntlet.
Rumi, pale from exhaustion, leaned over a map spread across the deck.
"The Verdalians are hiding us for now, but that won't last. The Marines have their scent. They're combing every district."
Kairo adjusted his coat, eyes shadowed under the brim of his hat.
"Then we move faster than they do. Every Marine on this island is here because they let slavery happen. If they want to hunt us, they'll choke on their own hypocrisy."
Down in Petalhaven's central plaza, Captain Nareen, commander of the island's garrison, stood before his assembled forces. His pristine uniform was marred by scorch marks from the Garden's destruction.
"This isn't about lost profits or politics," he barked. "This is about order. That pirate—Kairo D. Veil—has disrupted a sanctioned World Government operation. We are to capture him and his crew alive for public execution."
Behind him stood Reed Lockjaw, his jaw glinting in the sun.
"Alive? You're merciful." "The order came from above," Nareen said coldly. "Apparently, the Celestial Dragon arriving next week wants a spectacle."
Reed smirked.
"Then let's make sure it's worth watching."
The Marines began sweeping through the canopy districts, burning homes of suspected Verdalian sympathizers and arresting anyone who resisted. The once-lush kingdom now echoed with screams and the snap of rifle fire.
The Gas Chamber Pirates struck from the shadows.
In the lower bridges, Aria sniped supply convoys from the treetops, her rifle muffled by leaves. Jett and Kino ambushed Marine patrols, taking their weapons and scattering their formations. Rumi's chemical mixtures created false trails and smoke bombs that made the dense forest impossible to navigate.
Mira and the Verdalian survivors moved the freed slaves into hidden groves, tending to their wounds with herbal remedies that glowed faintly in the dark.
Still, every victory came at a cost. The Marines were relentless.
"They're adapting," Kino warned one night as they regrouped near an abandoned shrine. "Every time we strike, they move faster. They're tracking us by residual gas signatures." "Then we change the rhythm," Kairo said. "Let them chase shadows."
While hiding in a hollow tree deep in the forest, Rumi and Mira examined a strange sample collected from near the Garden ruins. The soil was crimson, pulsing faintly, almost like living tissue.
"This isn't just blood," Rumi whispered. "It's alive." "Alive?" Mira repeated. "You mean the ground itself?" "No… it's feeding on something. Or someone."
They showed it to Kairo, who turned the dirt in his hand thoughtfully.
"The merchant said the roots feed on blood," he murmured. "Maybe he wasn't being poetic."
Aria frowned.
"Are you saying the island itself drinks from its people?" "I'm saying something beneath Petalhaven is controlling the roots," Kairo replied. "Something the king's protecting."
Atop the Verdant Crown, within the floral palace made of woven vines and polished amber, King Lysander of Petalhaven sat alone on his living throne. His once-golden crown was now tarnished with sap and rust.
A Marine messenger kneeled before him.
"Your Majesty, the Marines request your cooperation in locating the fugitives."
Lysander's voice was calm, distant.
"The fugitives who freed my people from the chains your Government allowed?"
The Marine faltered.
"Th-the order comes directly from the Celestial Dragon—"
"Then tell your god to come ask me himself," the king said softly.
When the soldier left, Lysander turned toward the massive vine growing through the heart of his chamber. It pulsed faintly with red light.
"It's been centuries since you last fed, hasn't it?" he whispered to the root. "I know… I know what you hunger for. Just a little longer. When they find the pirate… you'll feast again."
His eyes, once bright green, had turned the color of sap—thick, amber, and wrong.
The crew struck again that night, moving like ghosts through the forest. Kairo led from the front, his blade flashing in brief arcs of black Haki. They hit a Marine checkpoint, freed a dozen prisoners, and vanished before reinforcements arrived.
But the air felt different now—charged, almost electric. The trees seemed to move subtly around them, branches curling, roots twitching.
"Captain," Rumi said, glancing nervously at the ground. "The soil's bleeding."
Kairo crouched, touching the red-tinged dirt. It was warm.
"We're running out of time," he said quietly. "Whatever's under this island—it's waking up."