The situation was extremely unfavorable for Buggy. His opponent possessed control over the sacrificial space, and with the vast reserves of energy stored within it, he held an overwhelming advantage.
Buggy, by contrast, was like a rootless duckweed adrift on water. Though he could rely on Life Return and his resilient physique to recover some strength, it was not enough to resolve the problem. With time slipping away, his stamina continued to drain, and the longer the fight dragged on, the faster defeat loomed.
Drawing on years of trained endurance, the power of Life Return, and the natural resilience of his body, Buggy fought against the village chief for nearly a full day. Though he sustained some injuries, they weren't severe.
Still, as the day ended, Buggy had completely fallen into disadvantage. If the battle continued much longer, he would almost certainly be defeated.
At this point, worry and a hint of panic had crept into Buggy's expression. He knew he could not last much longer like this.
Meanwhile, the village chief had not gained much ground either. Though Buggy's strikes hadn't caused any obvious wounds to his gigantic body, the accumulation of damage had left him with serious internal injuries. To heal them, he had been forced to consume vast amounts of energy. And just maintaining his current form demanded an even greater drain. At this rate, decades of painstakingly stored energy would be exhausted completely.
Outside the space, Kuro and the others were growing restless. They knew the battle was still ongoing—this much was obvious. If Buggy had won, he would have returned to them by now. If the village chief had won, he too would have emerged, though not to spare them. Either way, there would have been movement.
This uncertainty gnawed at them. They could neither assist Buggy nor see how the fight was unfolding. The lack of control weighed heavily, leaving them increasingly anxious.
"What should we do? We can't just sit here and watch. We have to find a way to help the captain!"
"But how? We don't even know where they are. What can we possibly do?"
"Damn it, this is maddening… It's because we're still too weak!"
The crew debated furiously but came up with no solution. One by one, their voices fell silent, and the group was left in uneasy quiet.
Kuro, standing aside, hadn't joined the discussion. He appeared to be deep in thought—until suddenly, he laughed.
"Fufufu… perhaps there is a way to help the captain."
His words startled everyone. All eyes turned to him.
"What way? Do you really have an idea?"
"Think about it. The sacrifices—just as the captain suspected, these villagers must have formed some kind of connection with the Sacrificial Fruit through years of offerings. Now, the fruit's user is fighting inside. If we conduct sacrifices out here, could that interfere with his ability to control the fruit's powers?
Even the slightest disturbance in battle could determine victory or defeat.
If we keep making sacrifices, maybe the captain can seize that chance to win. And if he's losing, our sacrifices might open cracks in the space, giving him a chance to escape. Either way, he won't be trapped in a life-or-death situation."
The crew fell silent, thinking carefully. The more they considered it, the more it seemed feasible. Slowly, smiles spread across their faces.
"I think Kuro's right. It's worth trying."
Daddy agreed—if nothing else, it would give Buggy a retreat.
"I'm in."
"Me too."
One by one, the crew voiced their agreement. With no other options available, they had to try.
They wasted no time. Using threats and persuasion, they forced two-thirds of the villagers—those destined for culling—to accept their terms.
The condition was simple: if the villagers willingly sacrificed themselves, their lives would be spared. Though they would lose their freedom, at least they would live.
This was the crew's bottom line. These villagers had committed heinous crimes that could not be forgiven. They had to pay a price. But to secure their cooperation, they were granted a slim chance of survival—though never true freedom.
Once resolved, the villagers began their sacrifices, working in pairs, each offering the other.
Of course, the sacrifices were small. None dared make extravagant requests, settling only for minor wishes in exchange for moderate offerings.
Daddy and the others ensured these sacrifices wouldn't backfire by inadvertently empowering the fruit user.
As the ritual began, the results were immediate. Cracks split open in the space, and the villagers' requested items dropped through. In that moment, Daddy and the crew could clearly hear the fierce sounds of combat from within.
They sighed in relief. Buggy was still alive.
At the same time, the village chief also felt it. The space trembled slightly, the energy in his body wavered, and his movements stalled for an instant.
Normally, he could suppress sacrifices at will. But locked in battle, he had no chance to stop them. The villagers' long years of ritual had tied them deeply to the sacrificial space. As long as the conditions were met, the space would respond automatically. Usually, he could control this. But now, he could not.
Buggy noticed the brief irregularity, but before he could act, the chief steadied himself.
Then came the second wave. Then the third.
The interference grew stronger. Surges and drains of energy disrupted his control, making it impossible to fully command his power or wield it with precision.
Once or twice, he might have concealed the flaw. But as the sacrifices piled up, it became impossible to hide.
Buggy seized the chance. When the chief lost control again, Buggy unleashed his Conqueror's Haki, vanishing in a flash to the giant's rear.
This time, the chief couldn't dodge. The sacrifices disrupted his control over his body's energy and the sacrificial space itself. His spatial abilities faltered. At the same time, Buggy's Haki forced his inner power into chaos. Strange gray energy burst out uncontrollably. Instant movement was impossible.
At that critical moment, Buggy gripped his flaming sword, Yan Yang, its blade clad in Armament Haki. Without any flourish, he swung it down hard at the giant's massive neck.
The effect was immediate and devastating. The distortions in the chief's form made his body unstable. The strike landed clean, leaving a deep gash across his enormous neck. Blood poured out in torrents, unstoppable.
The chief barely steadied his energy and prepared to counterattack when the next wave of sacrifices hit.
His power faltered once more. Buggy pressed his advantage, darting in and slashing again and again at the vulnerable neck.
Wounds multiplied, blood sprayed everywhere, until at last the flow became a flood. From the chief's neck, the blood gushed so heavily that it cascaded like a waterfall.