The inhabitants of the Shore, who had been watching the distant battle through a score of Malphas's obsidian crows that had manifested and projected scenes of what was happening as if it were entertainment, looked on in a mixture of awe and wonder.
The Shore itself hummed, the sands shifting to cradle the immense weight of the corpse, the Sacred Waters pulling back from the shore as if in deference!
Noah's main body, which had been waiting, rose from his seat of contemplation. The bloody purple flames of his Haki were not expressed on this body, his expression a mask of cold, satisfied calculation.
He walked towards the corpse, his bare feet sinking into the warm sand. He placed a hand on its obsidian, tribal-clad leg. The skin was cool, the power within it now dormant, a sleeping volcano of potential.
He had been made desperate. And in his desperation, he would not only survive; he would profite on a scale that would make the concept of greed itself feel inadequate!
Oh!
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