While Oboro's assault on the Ice Island capital had raged through the night, the army commander of the Scan Kingdom had wasted no time following through on their alliance. After urgent consultations with his king, he had hastily reorganized what remained of their forces and launched an immediate expedition toward Ice Island's waters.
Regardless of whether the Hell Pirates could actually accomplish their impossible promise of destroying an entire nation, this represented a rare opportunity to seize strategic advantages while their enemies were distracted. The Scan Kingdom's survival depended on exploiting every weakness, no matter how slim the chances of success might appear.
However, when their hastily assembled fleet reached Ice Island's coast and prepared for what they assumed would be a desperate amphibious assault, an unexpected sight greeted them.
Three familiar figures approached across the blood-stained harbor, Oboro leading Dom and Yurivich back toward their anchored vessel. The contrast between them was immediately apparent: their captain appeared immaculate despite the night's violence, his elegant black suit showing no signs of combat, while his subordinates bore the unmistakable marks of extended warfare.
Dom's bandaged form looked disheveled and exhausted, his normally precise movements betraying the kind of bone-deep fatigue that followed hours of relentless killing. Yurivich presented an even more dramatic spectacle, his massive frame completely soaked in gore, the crystalline coating of dried blood making him appear more like a walking monument to slaughter than a human being.
"This..." the army commander stammered, his throat working soundlessly as the implications crashed over him like a physical blow.
His strategic mind reeled at what his eyes insisted he was witnessing. Ice Island wasn't some defenseless territory like Fishhead Island, it commanded genuine military strength, fielding disciplined armies and maintaining the kind of warrior culture where every citizen could be mobilized for defense. Throughout the North Blue's violent waters, Ice Island had earned its reputation as one of the most formidable military powers, their systematic conquest of neighboring territories serving as testament to their capabilities.
Yet here stood three individuals who had apparently accomplished in a single night what conventional armies might struggle to achieve over months of bloody campaigning.
But as the memory of Oboro's devastating display during their first battle surfaced, the casual gesture that had obliterated an entire enemy fleet with compressed air, the impossible began seeming merely improbable. That single technique alone possessed enough destructive potential to level cities, and if their mysterious captain commanded additional abilities of similar scope...
Perhaps individual power truly could supersede conventional military thinking after all.
"Tell your king that from today forward, this territory belongs to the Kingdom of Scan," Oboro announced with matter-of-fact authority, his tone suggesting he was discussing routine business rather than the transfer of an entire nation. "You may proceed with the occupation."
The army commander and his assembled soldiers stood in stunned silence, their minds struggling to process the magnitude of what had just been accomplished. They had departed their homeland expecting to serve as support for a desperate gamble, instead, they were being handed the keys to their enemies' entire kingdom.
The silence stretched until it became almost oppressive, broken only by the sound of waves lapping against the harbor's blood-stained stones.
"We'll continue operating throughout the North Blue for the foreseeable future," Oboro continued, adjusting his gentleman's hat as he prepared to depart. "Remember to pay the remaining balance according to our agreement's terms."
As he spoke, his enhanced perception catalogued the valuable resources scattered throughout Ice Island's territory. The systematic looting of the capital's treasury had yielded substantial immediate wealth, but the island's true value lay in its unique natural resources, specialized ores found nowhere else in the North Blue, along with exotic marine life that thrived in the frigid waters surrounding the archipelago.
Such materials commanded premium prices throughout the region's weapons markets and culinary establishments, providing the Kingdom of Scan with sustainable income streams that would far exceed whatever compensation they owed the Hell Pirates.
The arrangement represented excellent value for all parties involved, assuming the Kingdom of Scan possessed sufficient wisdom to honor their agreements rather than attempting to renege once the immediate crisis had passed.
"Understood," the army commander nodded with the mechanical precision of someone whose capacity for surprise had been completely exhausted.
The thought of defaulting on their obligations to the Hell Pirates never even occurred to him. After witnessing the casual devastation these three individuals could unleash, maintaining positive relations seemed like the most fundamental survival strategy imaginable.
Besides, the Kingdom of Scan now found itself in possession of an entire conquered territory. The wealth and resources available through Ice Island's annexation would easily cover their debts while establishing them as a genuine regional power rather than a desperate footnote to other nations' ambitions.
"Wait," the commander called out suddenly as Oboro turned to leave, remembering crucial details about their current crew composition.
He explained that Dolan remained in their capital, recovering from the serious injuries sustained during his confrontation with Yurivich.
"When he's capable of movement, send him to rejoin us," Oboro replied with casual indifference, waving one hand without bothering to look back. "And don't forget to raise our flag over the conquered territories."
His tone carried the implicit understanding that the Hell Pirates' protection of the Kingdom of Scan came with corresponding obligations. The skull-and-throne banner would serve as both symbol and warning, marking Scan as under their aegis while announcing to potential threats that challenging this territory meant facing consequences that had already eliminated an entire nation.
As the pirates prepared to depart, Yurivich glanced back toward the army commander with predatory amusement. The brief eye contact sent visible chills through the seasoned military officer, his survival instincts screaming warnings about the barely contained violence radiating from the gore-covered warrior.
Though Yurivich lacked widespread fame throughout the North Blue, his reputation as a battlefield nightmare had spread throughout the northern maritime coordinates over the past year. The region's constant warfare created natural laboratories for observing military talent, and various intelligence networks monitored promising individuals who might prove useful for their own operations.
Everyone involved in North Blue politics understood the basic strategic landscape, Ice Island's aggressive territorial expansion, their systematic conquest of neighboring kingdoms, and most importantly, the role played by their legendary "war killer" in achieving such dramatic military success.
The Kingdom of Scan's defeats had been attributed largely to this single individual whose supernatural combat capabilities had repeatedly turned the tide of apparently balanced engagements. Reports suggested he possessed enough personal power to function as a one-man army, cutting through enemy formations with the casual efficiency of a natural disaster.
But those same intelligence reports had also noted his problematic relationship with authority, a loose cannon who had been imprisoned multiple times for insubordination, disciplinary problems, and general unwillingness to respect conventional military hierarchy. Ice Island's leadership had tolerated his behavior purely because his battlefield effectiveness proved indispensable for their expansion goals.
The fact that such a dangerous individual had not only joined the Hell Pirates but apparently submitted to their captain's authority spoke volumes about Oboro's true capabilities. Anyone who could command Yurivich's loyalty represented a threat that transcended normal strategic calculations.
By the time the army commander emerged from his shocked contemplation, the Hell Pirates' vessel had already disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving only the devastated remnants of Ice Island's capital as evidence of their visit.
"Enter the city!" he commanded, his voice cracking with barely controlled excitement as he led his forces toward what remained of their enemies' stronghold.
Aboard the Hell Pirates' flagship, the dynamic had shifted dramatically with their newest crew member's recruitment.
With Dolan still recovering in the Kingdom of Scan, Dom found himself temporarily handling navigation duties, a responsibility that required constant attention during the North Blue's unpredictable weather patterns. The exhaustion from their extended battle had forced him to rest periodically, allowing their vessel to drift with natural currents while he recovered his strength.
Oboro settled onto a supply crate that served as his preferred deck chair, crossing his legs with the relaxed confidence of someone whose plans were proceeding exactly as intended. Nearby, Yurivich chose to rest in his own distinctive manner, cross-legged on the open deck despite the frigid air and occasional snowflakes that danced across their course.
The sight was remarkable in its apparent contradiction. While the ship possessed perfectly adequate sleeping quarters with proper furnishings and climate control, Yurivich seemed to actively prefer the harsh elements. His torn clothing provided minimal protection against the bitter North Blue winds, yet he appeared completely comfortable with conditions that would have driven ordinary individuals below deck within minutes.
Such behavior spoke to the fundamental wildness that defined his character, someone whose relationship with comfort and civilization remained tenuous at best.
Oboro reached into his system storage and withdrew three cards that pulsed with barely contained power. The bloodline card of Upper Moon One Kokushibo gleamed with malevolent energy, while the accompanying skill and experience cards promised transformation that would elevate their newest recruit far beyond his current limitations.
Without warning or explanation, he released the cards toward Yurivich's unsuspecting form. They struck his body in rapid succession, dissolving into streams of light that penetrated his flesh with supernatural force.
The effect was immediate and devastating.
Yurivich's eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wide with shock as incomprehensible agony flooded his nervous system. His expression contorted into a mask of pain unlike anything Dom had witnessed during their extended combat, while his limbs began convulsing with violent spasms that spoke to fundamental changes occurring at the cellular level.
It felt as though his brain was being torn apart and reconstructed simultaneously, foreign memories, abilities, and instincts pouring into his consciousness like molten steel. The sensation transcended normal concepts of pain, reaching into realms of experience that human language couldn't adequately describe.
His muscles cramped and swelled as supernatural power rewrote his genetic structure, blood vessels bulging beneath his skin like writhing serpents while his bones creaked under the stress of rapid transformation. Beast-like roars tore from his throat as his vocal cords adapted to accommodate sounds that no ordinary human could produce.
He collapsed onto the deck, clawing at the wooden planks as waves of metamorphosis swept through his form.
"I promised to make you stronger," Oboro observed with satisfaction, rising from his improvised seat to study the transformation with analytical interest. "Enjoy this moment, it's your rebirth into something far more than human."
With casual indifference to his subordinate's obvious suffering, he turned and ascended the stairs toward the second-floor cabin, leaving Yurivich to endure his evolution without interference or assistance.
Behind him, the sounds of transformation continued, inhuman roars mixing with the distinctive crack of bones reshaping themselves according to supernatural blueprints.
Dom, who had been attempting to rest in his quarters, found himself jolted awake by the commotion. His enhanced reflexes carried him from horizontal to combat-ready in seconds, his mind immediately assuming they were under attack by some unknown threat.
But when he emerged onto the deck and saw Yurivich's writhing form, understanding struck him like a physical blow.
The scene was unmistakably familiar, another crew member receiving the captain's transformative gifts. But the scope and intensity of this particular enhancement far exceeded anything Dom had experienced during his own elevation.
His own transformation had been relatively subtle, focusing on refined improvements to existing capabilities rather than wholesale reconstruction of his fundamental nature. This was something entirely different, a metamorphosis that seemed to be rewriting Yurivich's very essence.
Several minutes passed before the sounds of agony finally ceased. In the sudden silence that followed, Yurivich slowly rose from the deck like a mountain given life.
Dom's enhanced vision struggled to process what he was seeing. Where once had stood a formidable but essentially human warrior, now loomed something that transcended normal classification. Yurivich's height had increased to over six meters, his massive frame resembling a living fortress more than a person.
The clothing he'd been wearing lay in shredded ruins, unable to contain the explosive growth of muscle and bone that had transformed his physique. Every visible surface of his body showed the evidence of supernatural enhancement, blood vessels that pulsed with visible energy, skin that seemed to radiate barely contained power, and an overall presence that made the air itself feel heavier.
In the frigid North Blue air, each breath he exhaled created clouds of steam that resembled dragon's breath, while his enhanced metabolism generated enough internal heat to make the surrounding temperature irrelevant.
The transformation had amplified not just his physical capabilities but his fundamental presence as well. The wild, predatory aura that had always defined him now pressed against Dom's consciousness like a weight, carrying implications of violence that made rational thought difficult.
It was simultaneously awe-inspiring and terrifying.
"Magnificent," Yurivich rumbled, his voice now carrying bass tones that seemed to resonate through the ship's hull itself.
He moved his enlarged hands experimentally, marveling at the sensation of strength that far exceeded his previous limitations. When he lifted his massive sword, the weapon that had once required considerable effort to wield now felt light as a feather in his transformed grip.
His crimson eyes, enhanced by the demon blood now flowing through his veins, fixed on Dom with predatory interest.
"Is your strength also derived from this gift?" he asked, studying the smaller pirate with obvious calculation.
Dom remained silent, his analytical mind working through the tactical implications of what he was witnessing. During their previous engagement, he had been confident in his ability to defeat Yurivich through superior technique and enhanced capabilities.
Now, such confidence seemed laughably naive.
The gap between them had expanded beyond mere training or experience into something approaching a fundamental difference in species. This wasn't just about increased physical power, Yurivich's transformation had elevated him into a category that normal human limitations simply couldn't reach.
More troubling was the realization that their captain possessed enhancement capabilities that apparently scaled according to the recipient's potential. The abilities granted to Dom had been substantial but measured, while Yurivich had received something approaching divine ascension.
The message was clear: in Oboro's eyes, Yurivich possessed far greater natural talent and corresponding value to their organization.
"Thank the captain," Dom said finally, lowering his head in acknowledgment before retreating to his cabin with decidedly mixed emotions.
The Hell Pirates' hierarchy had just been dramatically reorganized, and his position within it had become significantly less secure.
Meanwhile, Oboro deliberately chose not to provide Yurivich with any weapon cards from his collection. While the transformation had granted him access to Kokushibo's supernatural abilities, his fighting style remained rooted in wild instinct rather than formal martial arts training.
The massive sword he favored suited his combat philosophy perfectly, raw power applied with predatory cunning rather than technical precision. The elegant Sun Breathing techniques stored in Oboro's system would only constrain such natural talent, forcing Yurivich to fight according to predetermined patterns rather than the fluid adaptation that made him truly dangerous.
What Oboro valued most about his newest recruit wasn't his potential for refinement, but the pure killing intent that radiated from his very soul. Such individuals were rare even among the most violent criminals, people for whom murder wasn't just profession but calling.
In the battles to come, that fundamental bloodlust would prove far more valuable than any amount of technical training.
Yurivich's fearless nature and hunger for challenging powerful opponents made him ideal for their ultimate objectives. While he might never reach the absolute pinnacle achieved by monsters like Charlotte Linlin or Kaido, who had demonstrated superhuman capabilities from early childhood, his enhanced abilities represented genuine threat potential that few in the North Blue could match.
When Linlin had been merely five years old, she had nearly destroyed an entire village in Elbaf and severely injured the giant elder Yorulu, who later died from his wounds. Kaido had become the strongest warrior in the Vodka Kingdom at age ten, earning recognition as a living weapon of mass destruction.
By comparison, Yurivich at twenty-five was just beginning to tap into his true potential.
Before his transformation, facing an entire nation single-handedly would have been impossible despite his impressive battlefield performance. At best, he could influence the outcome of major engagements through his supernatural combat abilities.
Now, with Kokushibo's demon blood flowing through his veins and access to corresponding supernatural techniques, dealing with smaller island nations should present minimal challenge. Such capability represented extraordinary achievement for any pirate, let alone one operating in the supposedly peaceful Four Blues.
The partnership with the Kingdom of Scan had indeed proved highly profitable in ways that extended far beyond simple monetary compensation. They had gained a territory, eliminated a rival, and recruited a crew member whose enhanced potential could reshape their organization's future capabilities.
More importantly, they had demonstrated to the North Blue's criminal underworld exactly what kind of power the Hell Pirates could bring to bear when properly motivated. Such reputation would serve them well as they continued building their forces toward the eventual confrontation with the Celestial Dragons themselves.
The game was progressing exactly as Oboro had envisioned, and each victory brought them closer to the day when even the World Government would be forced to acknowledge the Hell Pirates as a threat that could no longer be ignored or contained.
As their vessel continued its course through the North Blue's treacherous waters, three members of an increasingly dangerous organization prepared for whatever challenges awaited them in the chaotic maritime landscape that would serve as their proving ground.
The age of the Hell Pirates was just beginning, and already their legend promised to reshape the very foundations of power that governed their world.