Tap... tap... tap...
The sound of steady, rhythmic footsteps echoed through the vast and dimly lit stairwell. Chrollo's black coat swayed slightly as he descended toward the deeper levels of the Black Whale. Behind him, the members of the Phantom Troupe followed in silence.
"Hey, Boss, everyone," the lively Shalnark said, resting his hands behind his head with the tone of someone who had just discovered a new toy. "I noticed something earlier. The residents of this 'Dark Continent'—their ships all have flags on the masts representing their factions! It's very distinct. I was thinking, maybe we should get one too?"
"That's true," Pakunoda agreed with a soft smile. "Since we've decided to leave our mark on this new continent and let the name of the 'Spider' echo far and wide, hanging a flag seems like a necessary step."
Even the usually cold Machi seemed interested. "They called themselves the Fallen Monk Pirates," she noted, "and they even gave their ship a name."
Her comment opened the floodgates, and the others began talking all at once.
"A flag? Sounds good!" Phinks cracked his knuckles.
"It has to be scary enough!" Uvogin grinned.
"The name has to be ours, obviously," Nobunaga said, rhythmically tapping the hilt of his katana.
"A pirate crew... Heh, sounds way better than an 'A-Class Criminal Organization,'" Bonolenov chimed in.
Hearing his members' discussion, Chrollo slowly came to a halt and turned around. His deep, dark gaze swept across every face. The noisy chatter died down instantly, and every eye fixed on their leader.
It was time to share some basic "intelligence" about this world with them. Of course, he would do it in a way they could understand and embrace...
With a heavy, resonant voice, Chrollo began. "My fellow members..." His voice held a magnetic, almost magical quality. "The journey in the world of the Inner Lake is over. This is a brand new challenge—the Dark Continent."
"You have seen it for yourselves. Whether it be the people or the beasts here, they are far stronger than those in the Inner Lake. The ability users here are even more vicious. They form crews, sailing the seas to burn, kill, and pillage for treasure. Their ultimate goal is the same as the site of the five great wonders—the ultimate treasure: One Piece."
Chrollo looked around calmly. "What should we do if others covet our treasure?"
"Obviously... we kill them," Uvogin, Phinks, Nobunaga, and the other combat members answered in unison, their faces twisting into savage grins. The others remained silent, but their excited expressions spoke volumes.
"Exactly." Chrollo nodded. "Take what you want. That is our creed. We are... the Spiders."
Under the focused gaze of the group, Chrollo pulled out a pre-prepared flag and slowly unfurled it. The pattern was one they knew intimately: the iconic symbol of the Phantom Troupe—a twelve-legged black spider, the same tattoo that marked each of their bodies.
Seeing this, the members' lips curled into grins. Their leader had already prepared everything.
"This is our pirate flag," Chrollo declared, his voice calm but powerful. "Once we have hunted enough 'fruits,' this new continent will remember this flag just as they did in the Inner Lake. The World Government, the Navy, the pirates... they will instinctively feel fear and find their legs shaking when they face this flag."
Chrollo stated this as if he were merely reciting a historical fact. "The Phantom Troupe Pirates. That is our name. This ship beneath us is the vessel for our voyage. The Troupe will become the most heinous pirate organization on the Dark Continent."
"Like spiders, we will patiently weave a massive web across the seas we reach, waiting for prey to fall into our trap. Then we will sweep them up, hunt them down, and squeeze every last drop of value from them—whether it be their lives, their wealth, or their abilities."
His voice rose, a fire spreading in his eyes. "Our fire... will set the whole world ablaze."
Finally, Chrollo's expression settled into a solemn, almost ritualistic state as he recited the oath from the Troupe's inception:
"We inherit the vow of blood for blood.
We refuse nothing.
So, think not of taking anything from us.
When the whole world begins to fear the Spiders...
The Phantom Troupe... is born."
---
Chrollo Lucilfer stood still at the edge of the shadows, his coat perfectly motionless. Feeling the excitement, trust, and reverence in the eyes of the Troupe below him, he let out a silent sigh in his heart.
This kind of periodic "PUA" brainwashing was a necessary tactic. He knew he lacked the natural, overwhelming charisma of the original Chrollo—the kind of magnetism that made these monsters follow him to the death.
But fortunately, he was an otaku. He knew the "plot" well enough, and he was intimately familiar with his companions' thought patterns and emotional voids. Like a world-class actor, he mimicked Chrollo's coldness, logic, leadership, and pursuit of absolute freedom perfectly. At times, he even surpassed the original.
The members of the Troupe were a diverse group of temperaments. There were lawless brutes who only believed in their fists, battle-addicts seeking thrills, calculating but dangerous tacticians, and eccentrics who acted solely on a whim. They were wild and untamable, yet they possessed their own sense of friendship and personal conviction. They could massacre an entire innocent clan without blinking, yet donate massive sums to global charities for impoverished children every year.
They were a mass of contradictions. If you knew their origins, you would understand: these were people who had clawed their way out of Meteor City—the world's garbage dump. Their kindness had been ground away in that process. The only shred of humanity they had left was held firmly in Chrollo's hand.
In other words... Chrollo was the man holding the leashes. He was the hand on the reins, driving a pack of savage beasts that could lose control and destroy everything at any moment. Without Chrollo, they would devolve into a disorganized mob of thugs bent on destroying the world.
Therefore, Chrollo had to maintain absolute control over the Troupe—as their leader.
But as the saying goes, a mask worn too long becomes impossible to remove. Sometimes, he couldn't tell who was truly beneath that skin: was it himself, or was it the embodiment of absolute logic and ultimate evil... the true Leader?
---