Just by letting Little Black devour a few jailers, White Flame's strength had already skyrocketed—far beyond what it once was.
If he could make that creature feast on the pirates locked up here—people who actually had some power—then his own strength would reach unimaginable levels.
"Master… wants power… Little Black… loves delicious food… kill them all…"
As soon as the order left White Flame's mouth, Little Black bolted forward, choosing a random cell. Its hands gripped the bars—and with a harsh metallic groan, it bent them apart.
Then came the screams.
"Not only am I stronger… Little Black's power is increasing too," White Flame murmured, watching the carnage unfold. Through subtle details, he could feel it—his partner was evolving with every kill.
"All the more reason these scum have to die."
Every corpse fed Little Black. Every meal strengthened them both.
When they were done, no one—not even the Donquixote Family—would stand in his way.
"Where the hell are those guards?! When you don't need them, they're everywhere—now that we're dying, they vanish?!"
"Help! Someone help! There's a shadow—something's killing us! Help!!"
"Let me out! I don't want to die—please, let me out!"
Each time Little Black entered a new cell, the same scene repeated itself: chaos, panic, and the shrieking sound of flesh being torn apart. The terrified cries echoed through the stone halls like a chorus of the damned.
In the neighboring cells, prisoners broke into cold sweats. None of them knew what was happening; they only felt a suffocating darkness creeping closer, wrapping icy fingers around their hearts.
Meanwhile, guards all over the prison were finally responding to the noise.
But White Flame had no intention of letting Little Black handle everything.
"It's time to test how strong I've really become."
His eyes hardened.
Standing in the middle of the corridor, he raised the musket and aimed at the corner.
The first guard appeared.
Bang!
White Flame fired without hesitation. The bullet struck cleanly through the man's skull.
"So it's not just their strength… Little Black even transferred their weapon skills to me?"
The realization made his pulse quicken.
Before all this, he had been nothing more than an ordinary office worker. Guns, fighting—he'd never touched either.
But now, aiming and firing felt as natural as breathing.
No wasted motion. No hesitation.
Every shot perfect.
Clearly, the knowledge of the devoured guards had become his own.
Bang!
Another pull of the trigger. Another life ended.
"He's got a gun!"
"Stay behind the wall! Don't rush in like idiots!"
The remaining guards weren't complete fools. After watching two of their men die with single headshots, they ducked behind the corner and began blind-firing down the hallway.
White Flame's eyes narrowed. He dodged sideways—but there were too many bullets.
Thwack!
A round tore into his thigh, spraying blood.
"So this is what getting shot feels like…" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Painful as hell. You're all dead."
He charged forward, dragging his bleeding leg straight into the hail of bullets.
Shots slammed into him one after another.
Even with his enhanced body, the barrage was too much. A final bullet pierced his chest—his heart. He collapsed to the floor.
Instantly, the black mist surrounding the prison flickered. Little Black's rampaging form dissolved into nothingness.
"He's down!"
"That damned freak is finally dead!"
"Cut up his body and feed it to the dogs!"
The guards exhaled in relief and stepped out from cover.
None of them noticed the thin stream of black particles seeping from White Flame's corpse…
A heartbeat later, his eyes snapped open.
He sprang to his feet with inhuman speed, his heel slamming into the floor, propelling his fist forward like a cannon.
BOOM!
His punch smashed into the nearest guard. The man's skull exploded; his body flew backward into the wall, leaving a crater before sliding lifeless to the ground.
"And you're next."
White Flame moved faster than they could track. He pivoted, launching a brutal roundhouse kick.
"Must be one of those pirate techniques I absorbed," he muttered coldly. "Thanks for the lesson."
His heel struck another guard's jaw with a crack, twisting the man's neck a full rotation before he dropped.
"He's not dead?! Open fire! Kill him!"
But their reactions were far too slow now.
White Flame flowed between them like a shadow. Every movement—every strike—was perfect, instinctive. He fought with the precision of a trained killer, his attacks seamless and fluid, as if he'd known them his whole life.
In less than ten seconds, the hallway was littered with corpses. More than a dozen guards lay broken and still.
"Little Black."
Black dust surged through the air, coalescing into the familiar bandaged humanoid form.
"Master…" it rasped, tilting its head.
"It's your turn to enjoy the feast."
White Flame lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow plume of smoke. Without looking back, he started walking toward the exit.
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