Mast Mansion, inside the Ghost Princess's chamber.
Perona slowly regained consciousness.
She rubbed her pink bangs with the back of her hand—her skin was slick with fine sweat.
Her whole body felt clammy and overheated. She sat up languidly in her princess bed, lightly patting her chest.
"Phew… it was just a nightmare after all. I knew it—there's no way someone so terrifying could actually drag me into the deep sea. Horohorohoro—"
Her laughter echoed through the empty room, eerily like spirits drifting in circles.
But just as she thought the nightmare was over, her eyes flicked toward the windowsill—
—and froze on a familiar silhouette.
H-he… he's really here…
That wasn't a dream. It all really happened!
Perona's mouth fell wide open, enough to fit a whole cobblestone inside, and refused to close.
She swallowed hard, forcing her breath to steady. In the silence, she clawed together a shred of courage.
Her thoughts narrowed to a single point—escape. She prayed her second attempt to flee under Davy Jones's nose would succeed.
Cautiously, she slid off the bed, hoping to slip away before his attention returned.
But Davy Jones had already noticed. He turned around.
Perona nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden motion.
Her body reacted on instinct—she thrust out her hands, hurling ghost after ghost in a panicked surge.
Protect me—protect me!
Then she bolted off the bed.
Like fish gushing from a spring, her ghosts poured out, glub-glub, rushing straight at Davy Jones.
But before they even reached him—he vanished.
Perona didn't look back. She sprinted for her life.
She was just about to grab the wall corner at the stairwell when something coiled around her legs—a tentacle. It yanked her back hard.
Smack!
She tumbled to the floor.
Terrified, she twisted to look back. A single tentacle wound tight around her leg. More hung poised above her head, writhing.
For a heartbeat, time itself seemed to freeze.
Tentacles… it was tentacles that dragged me into the deep! The nightmare—the vision—it's coming true!
But Davy Jones didn't drag her down.
"I expect you to act a little more rationally."
His voice was calm, almost conversational, but the tentacles over her face wavered menacingly.
"Quiet those things down. Otherwise…"
Bang!
One of his tendrils speared the floor like a lance, shattering through it before sliding back.
The threat was clear.
Another tendril swayed closer, close enough to brush Perona's cheek.
This time her courage broke. Tears gushed down her face like floodwaters.
Sobbing, she frantically pulled back her Negative Ghosts.
She didn't dare gamble—which would be faster: her ghosts phasing through him, or his tentacles skewering her body.
"Tell me. That giant outside—what is it?"
Perona only wept harder.
Davy Jones's tentacle lashed out again, stabbing through the wall with a sharp crack.
That worked. Perona jerked violently, biting down her sobs, though her breath still hitched in hiccups.
"Talk. Spill everything you know."
"I…"
Perona's eyes were swimming, but under the crushing pressure she gave in. She revealed everything—Moria's Shadow-Shadow Fruit ability, and the origin of the giant, Oars.
When she finished, she even crawled under the bed, retrieved Law's sword Kikoku, and handed it to Davy Jones.
Meanwhile, Kuro was juggling two injured men while fending off the Ghost Princess's earlier assault—a difficult balancing act.
Fortunately, with Captain Davy Jones himself stepping in, Perona was no longer a threat.
Now, trouble lay squarely on her.
With him also came Crocodile, Alvida, and Hachi.
Mikita and Porche remained aboard the Terror Ghost to guard the ship.
Then again, ordinary foes—like the zombies infesting Thriller Bark—had no real chance of breaching the vessel's firepower. The two were left behind mostly as insurance.
Crocodile clenched a lit cigar between his teeth, squinting as he surveyed Mast Mansion. A crooked grin spread across his face.
"Moria's place suits his gloomy stink of a personality just fine."
Not long ago, they had both been Warlords of the Sea. Both had suffered defeats in the New World at the hands of Emperors.
By logic, they should have been kindred spirits.
In truth, they had almost never spoken.
Because each saw in the other a mirror—an echo of their own failure. A wound that even twenty years later had never healed.
But tonight, perhaps things would change.
Crocodile, the first Warlord to fall, had been despised ever since. No matter his prior achievements, no matter the odds he had faced, his loss invited mockery.
"Warlord of the Sea." "Sand Crocodile." "The man who once challenged Whitebeard." All reduced to a joke.
Beaten by a nobody—a man with no reputation who rose in a matter of months, the so-called Lord of the Deep.
Who wouldn't sneer at that?
It was why, ever since the Arabasta fiasco, Crocodile had kept to the shadows.
But he had a feeling—tonight, another Warlord would fall. And to the very same man.
The tides of opinion might not turn fully in his favor—but at least people would reconsider whether Davy Jones had been underestimated. And in turn—whether Crocodile had been underestimated.
Two Warlords defeated by one pirate… the story would spread.
And in that, Crocodile would no longer stand alone.
The thought made him burst into hearty laughter, cigar smoke spilling in ragged clouds.
Alvida, who was tending to the unconscious Buggy and Law, stared at him in disbelief.
This crocodile—had he lost his mind? What was so funny?
Was the captain's pressure finally cracking him?
In truth, she was not far off.
Kuro, on the other hand, ignored the laughter. He pulled the black blade Shusui from his case and tossed it to Hachi.
Hachi scrambled to catch it, then unsheathed it with a gleam in his eyes.
"Nuoooh… this color, this hardness, this bloodlust…"
He was stunned, trembling with excitement.
"I took it from a so-called 'Swordsman Zombie,'" Kuro explained. "It's called Shusui."
"Shusui?!" Hachi gasped. Even he had heard of it. "They say it belonged to Shimotsuki Ryuma… but long ago his grave was robbed. Both his body and the blade vanished."
"Now we know where both ended up."
Hachi cradled the sword reverently, one hand gripping the hilt while the other five stroked the blackened blade.
"Nuoooh, this is a Meito—without question, one of the Twenty-One Great Grade Swords! Kuro… this… this precious blade, you're really giving it to me?"
"Take it. Among us, only you and Law are true sword-users. And Law prefers his blade for triggering his fruit powers."
"Nuoooh—thank you!"
Overcome with joy, Hachi lunged forward for a hug.
Kuro shoved a palm against his chest, keeping him at bay. Hachi's six arms waved through the air like a man swimming in place.
"Let me hug you!"
"Quit joking!" Kuro snapped, recoiling. He would never accept such sloppy affection.
At that moment, the ground began to shake.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Everyone fell silent, eyes fixed on the mansion's flank.
Moments later, a crimson giant stepped into view, emerging slowly from behind the building. His colossal strides carried him forward with dreadful weight until he loomed directly before them.
"A giant?!"
But the stitches running all over his body, combined with the knowledge of this island's most common product—zombies—made the truth obvious.
Moria had raised another monstrosity.
Crocodile sneered, exhaling a thick stream of smoke.
"So… the bastard even went and dug up something like this. Things are getting interesting."
But Kuro, Alvida, and Hachi didn't find it interesting in the least. Their hands tightened on their weapons, muscles taut with unease.
"…Nngh…"
At that tense moment, Trafalgar Law stirred awake.