On The Flying Dutchman, the strangely shaped shrimp soldiers and crab generals, inspired by their captain's fury, raised their rusty weapons, emitting various unintelligible roars.
A bloody boarding battle was about to erupt.
"Damn it, why are you yelling so loudly? Are you trying out for 'The Voice of China' to win the championship?"
Roger's ears buzzed, and his face was full of disdain.
He looked at Davy Jones opposite him, whose facial tentacles were almost tied into a perfect bow due to his rage. Roger felt like he wasn't confronting a sea devil but rather watching an internet-addicted teenager having a meltdown after being hit where it hurt.
"All I did was ask for money."
"Can't you even haggle? Is it that serious?"
"And wailing for ten thousand years? Do you think you're running an internet cafe with an overnight package? With a minimum charge, too?"
"Boss! He's panicking! He's panicking!"
The System's mischievous voice echoed in Roger's mind, full of schadenfreude.
Roger felt it was time to give this Squidward from the Middle Ages a little shock from modern technology.
"Billy! Buck!"
Roger shouted loudly.
"Present!"
The two rascals instantly perked up.
"Gatling turrets, prepare!"
Roger pointed at the gloomy ghost ship, a kind smile on his face.
"Today, I'll show you a big treasure!"
"Reload! Load our 'customer care' special edition!"
"Customer care?"
Billy and Buck exchanged a look.
They quickly operated the controls, and the four menacing Gatling turrets slowly rotated, their dark muzzles aiming at The Flying Dutchman, which was still approaching.
Davy Jones stood at the bow, his hand pointing at the explorer, about to give the order to attack.
He would tear that iron ship to shreds with his own hands!
He would grind every bone of that mortal!
However, he didn't get that chance.
Roger picked up the tin megaphone, cleared his throat, and shouted in an enthusiastic tone, like an MC before a concert.
"How are you doing, friends below!"
"Let me hear your screams!"
"Let's all rock out to the beat of the music!"
The next second.
"Da da da da da da—!!!"
Four chains of fire, made of bullets, ripped through the dense fog, tracing dazzling arcs across the night sky!
But this time, the bullets were a bit eerie, their tips glowing with a demonic green.
Davy Jones's shrimp soldiers and crab generals hadn't even reacted before they were instantly engulfed by this impenetrable storm of metal!
"Puff puff puff puff!"
The sound of bullets hitting flesh rose and fell.
But strangely, the hit crew members didn't fall to the ground screaming, riddled with holes as expected.
They merely stiffened.
Then, something strange happened.
A crew member with a hammerhead shark for a head suddenly dropped the knife in his hand and began to twist his body wildly in place, emitting unintelligible "Hey! Ha!" cries.
His movements looked very familiar, much like a certain ancient calisthenics routine.
Another fellow, half covered in starfish, used his arm as a ribbon, waving it in the air, muttering to himself, seemingly praying for a good harvest.
The entire deck of The Flying Dutchman instantly transformed from a battlefield poised for a charge into a large-scale chaotic dance floor.
Davy Jones himself was grazed by a few bullets.
His furious roar abruptly stopped.
His crimson single eye began to look bewildered and unfocused.
He stood there blankly, his facial tentacles twitching unconsciously.
"I... I saw it..."
He murmured to himself.
"It's Calypso... my love... she's wearing Pinru's clothes, smiling at me..."
"No, what's that?"
He stretched out his hand, as if trying to touch the non-existent phantom.
Then, he moved.
His legs awkwardly tapped the deck.
Immediately after, his massive body began to... jump, in an extremely uncoordinated manner.
He waved his left hand in the air, his right hand stiffly swayed, and his legs began to alternate in a strange dance step that mixed tap dance and elderly disco.
"Oh! My love! Let's dance together!"
Davy Jones's voice, once filled with sorrow and resentment, now became incredibly high-pitched and joyful.
He danced and sang.
"On this endless sea! You are my only light!"
On the deck of the explorer, there was a deathly silence.
All the pirates gaped, staring blankly at the magical scene on the opposite ship.
Hector's grip on the helm once again left clear finger marks.
Jack Sparrow lay sprawled on the ground, feeling his brain had been completely fried by the scene before him.
Davy Jones, who made the entire Caribbean Sea tremble with fear... the deep-sea devil who could summon the Norwegian Sea Monster... he... he he he... he was awkwardly dancing?
"Holy crap..."
Buck swallowed with difficulty, poking Billy beside him.
"Billy, did you see that? That Squidward... he looks like he's having a seizure."
"No, Buck."
Billy analyzed in an expert tone.
"Based on my observation, his movements incorporate Irish country dance and Spanish flamenco, a very post-modern deconstructionist expression."
"What the heck?"
"It means he dances like absolute crap."
"Tsk tsk tsk."
Roger shook his head, picked up the tin megaphone, and switched to live commentary mode.
"This Squidward contestant, your movements are too stiff! Your sense of rhythm is off! You need to go with the feeling!"
"And you guys! That hammerhead shark over there! Yes! You! What's the point of just wiggling your butt? Put your hands up!"
"Friends in the back! Let me see your glow sticks!"
Roger's commentary, amplified by the megaphone, clearly reached The Flying Dutchman.
The crew members, immersed in their hallucinations, seemed to genuinely hear the instructions.
They danced even more vigorously.
Davy Jones, even more excited, even grabbed a barnacle-covered crew member nearby, treating him as a dance partner, and began to waltz.
"Spin! Yes! Spin again!"
"Damn it, don't let his prosthetic leg fly off! That thing isn't covered for compensation!"
"Boss! Boss!"
The System's voice rang out excitedly.
"The atmosphere is already set! Do you need our 'Clubbing Light Show' service? Rainbow lasers, strobe lights, smoke machine! The full set of equipment is only nine thousand nine hundred ninety-eight copper coins! Guaranteed to make this Squidward the brightest star tonight!"
"Get lost! I'm fighting a war here! Not holding a concert!" Roger cursed.
He looked at the ghost ship opposite, which had completely transformed into a sea disco, and nodded in satisfaction.
Product testing, very successful.
"Alright, stop the music." Roger raised his hand.
The roar of the Gatlings abruptly ceased.
"Let them enjoy themselves for a while. Once the effects wear off, we'll have a good talk with him about compensation for emotional distress."
Roger put down the megaphone, feeling refreshed.
However, just then.
Davy Jones, who was passionately spinning with his dance partner, suddenly froze.
The intoxication and joy on his face quickly faded.
In their place was double the bewilderment, double the shock, and... an endless, ten thousand times more intense than before... shame and fury!
He slowly released his "dance partner," looking down at his still slightly trembling legs.
What... was I... doing just now?
I... was dancing?
In front of this mortal?
In front of all my subordinates?
"Roar—!!!"
A roar more terrifying than all previous roars combined erupted from Davy Jones's throat!
His crimson single eye locked onto Roger.
That gaze was no longer just anger.
It was a kind of... relentless, vengeful malice!
"I! Want! You! Dead!"
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