Thump, thump, thump—
The sound of a heartbeat quickened. The mist, once tinged crimson, suddenly darkened into a murky black.
Whoosh—
A fierce wind roared down the narrow corridor, carrying with it a swirl of dead leaves. As the leaves scattered, a foreign and dangerous silhouette appeared.
The rasp of barnacles against a black cloak whispered through the night. Pale yellow tendrils slithered from the sleeves, slapping wetly onto the floor.
Gray-blue eyes opened—and locked with Perona's.
In that instant, Perona felt as though she were staring into the boundless, unfathomable sea.
No—worse. It was as if she had already sunk into its frozen depths, sinking endlessly downward.
She looked down. Her legs were bound by a massive tentacle rising from the seabed. She glanced up. The surface was impossibly far away. Her vision filled with suffocation and despair.
"Ah!"
Her petite real body jolted awake. Perona shot up in a plush princess bed, forehead dripping sweat, chest heaving in panic.
What was that…? Who is he?
Even the briefest eye contact had been enough to infect her with fear, spreading through her like a disease, taking root and flourishing.
If she hadn't withdrawn her soul in time, she dared not imagine what might have happened next.
But the price was steep—her mini-ghosts and giant ghost vanished along with her projection. The barrier outside the room was gone.
That meant she could no longer stay here safely.
Run!
I have to run now—upstairs! Lord Moria is there, he'll protect me!
Perona scrambled out of bed, slipped on her round-toed boots, snatched up her oversized teddy bear, and turned toward the stairway leading upward.
Fwoosh—
At that moment, the room's candles all snuffed out in an instant—then reignited at once, burning wildly, their wax melting in rapid pools like the fuse of a bomb.
In the flickering dark and light, a figure appeared before her.
He wore a tricorne hat. His waxy, sallow skin gleamed slickly, utterly hairless—no eyebrows, no beard—only the dangling, writhing tentacles that drooped from his face.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Davy Jones grinned at her, but there was nothing warm in it. His tendrils spread wide, reaching for her face like grotesque worms eager to embrace.
Perona gasped in terror.
A… a monster!
The tentacles reached closer.
"Ahhhh—!"
Perona's shriek split the air. Her eyes bulged, heart nearly bursting from her chest. The overwhelming shock rolled her eyes back white as she collapsed backward, limp onto her princess bed. Her teddy bear tumbled to the floor.
"…Hm?"
Davy Jones arched what could barely be called brows in surprise. Stepping forward, he discovered the Ghost Princess had already fainted dead away.
"Weaker than I expected." He murmured, tilting his gaze. "Her power is 'ghosts'… a fitting ability for Thriller Bark. But her courage… far too small."
He was about to reach down and shake her awake when a deafening rumble shook the Mast Mansion from outside, as though the earth itself were groaning.
BOOOOM—
Davy Jones already sensed what it was, but still stepped to the window.
Drawing aside the cute, frilled curtains so clearly in Perona's style, he looked out—
—and saw a moving mountain of flesh taller than the surrounding castles.
Its entire body was a dark, blood-red. A pair of horns jutted from its savage skull. Its massive frame bore countless stitches and seams, clothed only by an apron tied at the waist, from which three white skulls dangled.
A giant—without question. But even among giants, its size was monstrous.
That such a being still walked the earth was almost impossible to believe.
One of its eyes was missing. The other was ringed with a heavy, dark circle, like a man long deprived of sleep.
Steam snorted from its nostrils as its gaze swept blankly around. Then, like a patrolling beast, it began to circle the Mast Mansion.
Each step made the earth quake, like a clock tower tolling midnight—only far more brutal.
While Davy Jones watched the giant, a small, dark-purple bat hung unseen nearby, observing him.
The instant Davy Jones turned his head, the bat darted away.
The little bat flapped upward, past several floors, until it reached the great hall near the mansion's top.
There it landed on Moria's vast belly, wobbling twice before steadying, then melted into his body.
Moria's expression had changed greatly since the night began.
Through his Shadow Bats, he had confirmed Hogback's death, then Absalom's corpse—both slain brutally, one decapitated, the other shot through the skull.
Now even his foster daughter, Perona, had fallen into Davy Jones's hands.
And worst of all—it had all happened under Bartholomew Kuma's silent gaze.
All the boasts Moria had thrown at Kuma earlier now returned like cruel boomerangs, striking him in the face.
A humiliation beyond bearing.
The mighty Thriller Bark, with its countless zombies—brought low by the Davy Jones Pirates.
But there was one small consolation: with the aid of Perona's ghosts, his shadows had managed to bring down one enemy, cutting away their shadow. That sliver of victory salvaged at least a shred of pride.
At last, the man who had sat reading his Bible in silence closed it with a soft clap.
"This presence… that must be Davy Jones himself." Behind Kuma's rimless glasses, his eyes were unreadable. "He seems formidable. Moria—have you prepared a means to defeat him?"
"Of course!"
Though his three lieutenants were gone, his zombie army shattered, Moria's spirit surged once more.
"Keheheheheh! I still have Oars!"
Kuma tilted his head, studying him.
"Oars? You mean that giant zombie? I've been wondering when you would explain its origins to me."
Moria's grin widened with pride. Oars was his masterpiece.
"That was a giant from over 500 years ago—strong enough to haul entire islands! Near invincible, until the cold claimed his life. I inserted the shadow of one of Davy Jones's crew into him. Only then did I make Oars fully obedient."
The thunder of Oars's footsteps echoed around the mansion, never straying far.
Moria's eyes gleamed as he shrilled, "He will annihilate the Davy Jones Pirates! That is the command I gave him!"
Kuma's lips tightened. "As long as you have a plan. One Warlord of the Sea has already fallen to Davy Jones. The World Government won't want to see a second."
"Keheheheheh—rest assured!"
"If need arises, say the word," Kuma replied, his massive frame sitting rigid on the sofa. "Two Warlords working together against one man should not fail."
It was the second time Kuma had offered his aid.
And the second time Moria rejected it.
"Hmph. Troubles in my own house, I'll handle myself. If outsiders intervene, who would ever respect me again? I am Gecko Moria!"
"…So long as you know your limits."
Kuma let it rest. He glanced at Moria sprawled on the sofa, his distended belly grotesquely round, almost like a pregnant woman's.
Kuma shook his head inwardly.
Since his crushing defeat in Wano, where his crew was annihilated, Moria had changed utterly. Once ambitious, he now cowered in the Devil's Triangle, wallowing in gloom.
He gathered zombies, pretending to build strength—but Kuma knew well how unreliable they were.
Too many weaknesses: salt, seawater, fire, sunlight.
And most fatally—if the shadow's owner died, the zombie perished with it.
Which meant—kill Oars's shadow-bearer, Trafalgar Law, and no matter how strong Oars was, he would fall instantly.
The same flaw applied to the entire zombie army. If enough shadow-bearers died at once, the legion would collapse in an instant.
From the beginning, Moria had never had a true chance to reclaim the New World. His zombie army was forever bound by its shadows.
Yes, shadows could be swapped, zombies recycled—but the cost and risk far outweighed the gain.
Kuma wasn't sure if Moria truly hadn't thought it through, or simply chose to pretend otherwise—to escape reality.
Perhaps the scar of his defeat to Kaido cut too deep.
What Kuma saw was this: even now, in their talk, Moria hadn't once mentioned facing Davy Jones himself. He only boasted of Oars.
Proof enough.
Gecko Moria had lost faith in his own strength.
He was no longer the man who had once dared challenge Kaido, the Beast.