Alvida was utterly confused. She had never even heard of such a man before today, let alone met him—yet his axe was already coming down, and she had no choice but to raise her spiked mace in defense.
Clang!
Steel crashed against steel, sparks scattering in the night.
The three-headed hound circled around to Alvida's side, growling low in its throats before it lunged in to strike from the flank.
Whoosh!
A conductor's baton slammed down from above, its hardened tip cracking against the monster's torso and drawing three simultaneous howls of pain.
The beast staggered, collapsed, then scrambled back to its feet, glaring with bloodshot eyes at its assailant—Porche.
"Uh…" Porche gave a sheepish smile, instantly losing her nerve. "On second thought, maybe you should just keep attacking Alvida. I won't stop you this time."
But the Cerberus cared nothing for her pleas. It flared its nostrils, bared its fangs, and with a furious roar, bounded straight toward her.
Porche shrieked, spun around, and bolted into the fog.
The monster charged after her without hesitation. Yet once inside the thick mist, its eyes could no longer find her. All it could do was thrust its three muzzles down and sniff frantically at the ground.
The trail was there—Porche's distinct pollen scent.
Following the scattered patches of powder she had left in her flight, the hound quickly closed in. But just as it thought it was upon her, the world spun dizzyingly and its sense of smell suddenly failed.
Porche's laughter rang out.
She stood not far away, watching as the three-headed beast stumbled straight into her trap. Just to be safe, she raised her baton and launched several flower-shaped shuriken.
Whizz, whizz, whizz—
The petal-like blades struck home, embedding themselves in the beast's eyes. It had already been missing one; now the remaining five were blinded as well.
Awooo—!
Howling, the monster thrashed blindly, charging madly through the mist until—
Crash!
It slammed headlong into a gravestone and collapsed, rolling onto its back in a heap.
"What an absurdly resilient creature…" Porche muttered. "And it still won't die. I'd better get out before it recovers and latches on again."
Navigating by instinct born from years of seafaring, she retraced her steps through the fog until she found her way back.
When she emerged, she saw Alvida locked in fierce combat with the "boar bride" in the wedding dress.
By now, the boar bride was secretly shaken. Alvida's sheer strength far exceeded her expectations. Her great axe had already shattered from the repeated clashes, forcing her to toss it aside and draw the twin long blades strapped to her back.
"Two-Sword Style: Blood-Red Wedding!"
From Porche's vantage point, the fight looked evenly matched. But to Alvida herself, it was almost casual.
Having confirmed that the boar bride possessed no Devil Fruit powers and only relied on brute force, Alvida stopped bothering to evade. She allowed the twin blades to hack against her body—
The boar bride's eyes went wide. The blades didn't bite into flesh. Instead, they rebounded away as though striking iron.
What?!
"Haah—!"
Alvida gave her no time to think. With a powerful upward swing, her spiked mace smashed into the boar bride's jaw.
Boom!
The massive body was sent flying, crashing onto the ground spread-eagle.
Her entire face caved inward from the blow. Yet even so, she clung to life, murmuring "Lord Absalom…" as she drifted in unconsciousness.
At least, she could no longer move.
"That 'Lord Absalom' must be one of the 'Three Oddities,' right?" Porche asked curiously, approaching now that the danger seemed past.
"Yes." Alvida rested her mace on her shoulder. "But why this boar thought I was standing in the way of her love with him, I've no idea. I've never even met the man."
Suddenly, Porche shuddered, glancing around nervously.
"Alvida, don't you remember? That bat said Absalom is a Clear-Clear Fruit user. Maybe he's nearby right now—we just can't see him."
Alvida frowned. Porche's words made sense. Extending her Observation Haki, she felt a disturbance—
In an instant, she whirled and swung her mace straight at Porche.
"Alvida?!"
Porche froze in shock. After spending time together, she had come to trust Alvida. The sudden attack felt like betrayal.
But before she could react—
Crash!
The mace slammed into empty air right before her, yet struck something solid. A shape was hurled back, smashing through a nearby gravestone.
Porche's heart pounded as she realized—Alvida had sensed the invisible threat and saved her.
"He really was here." Alvida stepped protectively in front of Porche, eyes locked on the shattered stone. "Hide yourself. I'll deal with him."
A heavy, labored breathing followed—and then a figure materialized.
Absalom revealed himself. He wore a strange tall hat, his head stitched together with the features of both man and lion. Panting, he stared at Alvida and Porche.
Earlier, he had witnessed the three women who had infiltrated his domain, captured Hogback's bat, and torn through an entire squad of zombie soldiers. They were, to his eyes, breathtaking—and he had immediately resolved to claim them as his brides.
The doll-like one had already flown off with the bat in tow—far beyond his reach.
The two remaining were formidable; in less than fifteen minutes they had nearly annihilated his horde of cemetery minions.
Not at all the weak, fragile type Absalom usually favored.
Still, he had deployed the far stronger General Zombies as reinforcements. Once they arrived, the situation would shift. Or so he thought. But why had they not yet appeared? Had they encountered… resistance?
On the Thriller Bark, besides this intruding "Davy Jones Pirates," who else could be standing in their way?
Absalom could not fathom it.
Meanwhile, his command to "seize the women" had spread quickly. It had reached Lola—the boar bride who adored him.
She had longed to marry Absalom, but he had spurned her again and again. His tastes ran only to frail, youthful, shapely human women.
Time after time, he had stolen such women away, and each time Lola had convinced herself they were the reason her proposals failed.
This time too, she blamed an intruding woman.
Her jealousy flared, and she had rushed to join forces with the three-headed hound, hunting the supposed rival down.
Not even knowing which woman Absalom had desired, she had simply assumed the beautiful, curvaceous Alvida must be the one—and so the battle began.
By the time Absalom arrived, the fight was already over.