"Ants build dams, thinking they can stop a tsunami."
Abel turned around, those sunken eyes devoid of any emotional fluctuation, holding only a heart-palpating, dead silence.
"When the flood breaks the dam, the only end for the ants is to be crushed."
The veins on Smoker's forehead pulsed; this bastard was truly irritating.
"White Punch!"
Boom!
Smoke jetted out as a massive white fist blasted toward Abel's face with the sound of breaking air.
No fancy tricks, just a pure release of power.
However...
A palm nonchalantly blocked the front of the fist.
It wasn't Abel.
It was a layer of ice crystals emitting a cold mist.
Kuzan had one hand in his pocket while the other maintained a palm-outward posture; the white smoke fist, powerful enough to shatter rock, couldn't advance an inch before him.
"Arara, Smoker."
Kuzan sighed and gave a casual wave; the ice crystals shattered, dispersing the smoke along with them.
"I told you, don't be so impulsive."
Smoker's face was ashen.
"Kuzan, are you going to protect this guy too?"
"It's not about protecting."
"You bastard, there's no need for your mouth to be so vicious."
After several days of sailing, he and Abel had gained a basic understanding of each other; this man was simply a reckless brute who spoke without a filter.
Kuzan scratched his head, his lazy demeanor vanishing, replaced by a rare seriousness.
He pulled a sealed kraft paper dossier from his coat and threw it directly into Smoker's arms.
Slap.
"Take a look."
Kuzan pointed at the dossier.
Smoker's fingers were somewhat stiff.
It was a dark red wax seal stamped with the words "TOP SECRET." It wasn't the usual seagull and scales emblem of the Marines, but a circular pattern with three arrows pointing toward the center.
He glanced at Kuzan.
The usually lazy Admiral was currently staring blankly at the gaps in the deck.
Smoker withdrew his gaze and flicked his thumb forcefully.
Rip.
The sound of the seal tearing was exceptionally piercing on the deathly silent deck.
There were only three thin sheets of paper inside the dossier.
The first page was a blurry photograph.
The background was an alley in the residential area of Marineford. In the center of the frame was an alien monster split in half; its purple muscle fibers and bone spurs looked hideous and terrifying even in a black-and-white photo.
Standing beside the monster's corpse was a man holding a massive black blade.
Smoker looked up abruptly, staring fixedly at Abel, who was currently looking out at the sea with boredom a few meters away.
The person in the photo was exactly this guy in front of him.
His gaze fell back onto the paper.
[Subject Number: Abel]
[Object Class: Keter (Extremely Dangerous)]
[Affiliation: SCP Foundation · Mobile Task Force Omega-7]
[Description: Target claims to be from a high-dimensional civilization containment agency. Possesses traits such as instantaneous regeneration, void-summoned weapons, and extreme battle-lust. According to his account, he is hunting a defected anomaly codenamed 'Deadpool'...]
Smoker's brow furrowed tighter and tighter, the cigar in his mouth already bitten flat.
"High-dimensional civilization? Anomaly?"
He recognized every word in these combinations, but strung together, they sounded like a fairy tale.
He flipped to the second page.
The content of this page was even more shocking, with the title printed in bold black letters—
[Hazard Assessment Report Regarding 'Blacklight Virus']
[Infectivity: SSS-Rank. Transmissible through body fluids, water sources, and even air. Infected individuals lose their sanity and undergo genetic mutation within 5-10 minutes.]
[Fatality Rate: 100% (Note: Infection is considered death; converted into a viral vector).]
[Specialty: Possesses 'Hive Mind.' All infected entities are under the absolute control of the Mother (Codenamed: Prototype). The Mother can evolve infinitely by consuming biomass, theoretically without an upper limit.]
[Potential Threat: XK-Class End-of-the-World Scenario. If left uncontained, it is estimated that 98% of the life on this planet will be assimilated within three months.]
Smoker's hand trembled.
Ash fell onto the paper, burning a small black dot.
Three months.
The whole world.
"You've got to be kidding me..."
Smoker's voice was dry, as if his throat were stuffed with a handful of sand.
He slammed the file shut and looked up at Kuzan, the red capillaries in his eyes clearly visible.
"Has Fleet Admiral Sengoku gone senile?"
Alien civilizations... anomalies... the end of the world...
"I wish this were fake too, Smoker."
Kuzan spoke slowly, the white breath he exhaled condensing into frost in the air.
"But unfortunately, Smoker, this is the most realistic assessment made by the Science Division based on the current situation."
Kuzan leaned against the railing with his hands in his pockets, his gaze cast toward the distant, gray horizon.
"In any case, after a unanimous decision by the Marine high command and the World Government, we have reached a temporary cooperation with this guy."
Kuzan sighed and scratched his messy, curly hair.
"Even though that's the assessment those lunatics in the Science Division gave, I personally still have my reservations."
"Things are done by people, Smoker."
"The situation isn't as bad as imagined. Don't we have a super Captain from a high-level civilization on our side?"
"Right, Mr. Abel?"
Kuzan's tone was full of banter.
Abel stood by the ship's side, the black tattoos on his bronze skin slowly moving as if they were living parasites.
He looked down at the bottomless sea surface, those sunken eyes showing not a single ripple.
"They're here."
Before his voice had even faded...
The sunglasses on Kuzan's face slipped down an inch, revealing those eyes that always looked sleepy.
At this moment, a sharp light burst from those eyes.
In his perception, beneath the originally calm sea surface, countless violent red dots of life were surging upward at a terrifying speed.
Densely packed, in the thousands and tens of thousands.
And in the very center of these red dots, there was a black shadow so massive it was suffocating, crashing toward the surface like an undersea mountain range.
The sea began to boil.
Not as an adjective, but in the literal physical sense.
The originally dark water looked as if it were being boiled; countless turbid bubbles gurgled up, accompanied by a nauseating, rotten stench.
The cigar in Smoker's mouth fell to the deck with a thud.
He saw it.
Beneath the rolling waves, densely packed black backs were squeezed together like a swarm of ants; every surge was accompanied by the tooth-aching sound of grinding bones.
"What the hell are those things..."
A young Marine soldier leaned over the railing, his voice trembling and his legs shaking like jelly.
Splash!
A black shadow burst from the water, so fast it left only a blur.
Then came a second, a third... hundreds and thousands of them!
The originally streamlined fish bodies were now bloated and distorted; dark red muscle fibers had burst through their scales, and ivory bone spurs protruded from their bodies like sharp daggers.
Their eyes had vanished, replaced by constantly wriggling sensory tentacles.
"Enemy attack!!!"
The sentinel on the watchtower shrieked piercingly, his voice cracking from extreme terror.
"Fire! Everyone, fire!"
Smoker snapped out of it, his Jitte instantly unsheathed as he transformed into a trail of white smoke rushing toward the ship's side.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The cannons on the warship's broadside roared in unison, the dense barrage of shells exploding into water columns on the sea surface.
But it was useless.
Those mutated schools of fish knew no pain, and they didn't even have a fear of death.
Braving the cannon fire, they were like living torpedoes, frantically slamming into the warship's waterline.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The dull sounds of impact made the entire massive steel vessel tremble.
Splinters flew, and iron plates buckled.