Yellow Maw was rooted to the spot, his gaze locked on the figure in complete, soul-crushing terror. Only then did he notice the massive, bulging sack slung over the stranger's shoulder.
"Piggy, do you like the present I brought you?" the figure asked playfully. He began to walk forward, his pace relaxed and predatory. "In here," he continued, gesturing to the bag, "are the heads of every single captain in your fleet. Thirty-five in total. They cursed your name as they died, you know."
The figure let the machete's blade scrape against the ancient floor, sending a rhythmic spray of sparks into the dim air. Screee—screee—screee.
Yellow Maw gulped, his mind reeling. How? Thirty-five crews... wiped out? He began to stumble backward. Nearby, Kenji forced his eyes open, fighting through the agonizing backlash of his power to witness the nightmare unfolding.
"You really annoyed me, Piggy. Making me run across the world for you," the figure said, his melodious voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Unfortunately, I couldn't get to the rest of them in time. But that doesn't matter now. Do you remember my promise from four months ago?"
Yellow Maw spun to bolt, but before he could take a single step, something cold and jagged plunged into his back. His legs were swept from under him in one fluid, graceful motion. He crashed into the stone, and a powerful kick caught him square in the face, sending the world into a sickening spin.
The blade was wrenched from his spine. The figure stepped on Yellow Maw's chest, flipping him over so they were face-to-face. Then, the stranger sat on the pirate's abdomen, looking down through the shadows of his hood with a cold, amused grin.
"Four months ago, I said that when I found you, I would treat you like a pig for the slaughter. Are you ready?"
"Young Master, please!" Yellow Maw shrieked, his voice cracking with desperation. "Spare me! I was just following orders! I would never have done it if I had a choice! Please!"
The figure's grin vanished. As Yellow Maw looked up into the depths of the hood, he saw a pair of violet eyes—cold, regal, and utterly devoid of mercy.
"Shut it."
For the next hour, Yellow Maw lived in hell.
He was dismantled like livestock. The machete the figure wielded had a jagged, serrated edge designed for maximum suffering. Yellow Maw's screams echoed through the throne room for an eternity, rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence of agony.
By the time the figure was finished, Yellow Maw was a ruin. He was barely a man anymore—limbs dismembered, skin flayed, his lifeblood pooling in a dark, shimmering lake around his remains. The cloaked figure stood in the center of the gore, his clothes drenched in crimson.
When the light finally left Yellow Maw's eyes, the stranger turned to Kenji.
Kenji had watched the entire process, paralyzed by a new kind of terror. He was sweating, his vision failing as blood continued to leak from his ears and eyes. The figure walked over and crouched beside him, finally pulling back the hood.
Kenji stared, stunned into silence. The figure possessed an ethereally androgynous beauty. He had hair like spun moonlight and deep violet eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world. The moonlight from the shattered ceiling caressed him like a blessing, making him glow against the blood-stained floor.
A girl? No... definitely a boy, Kenji thought, his mind racing even as his consciousness flickered.
"I have never seen a mongrel quite like you," the boy said. He leaned in, his eyes narrowing as if he were inspecting a curious insect. "But... why do you have that?"
The question wasn't meant for Kenji; the boy was musing to himself. As he spoke, a small orb of blue fire drifted toward him. The boy watched it with an expression of cold indifference.
He tracked the orb as it floated back toward Takahiro's body. A mysterious, mischievous grin spread across his face.
"I will do you this favor," the boy said, his voice a melodic chime. "Consider it a blessing from a King."
Kenji's strength finally gave out. A strange sense of safety washed over him—he felt he could trust this beautiful, violent stranger. He slumped into unconsciousness.
The silver-haired boy looked down at the crimson-haired mongrel with lingering amusement, then turned his gaze toward Takahiro.
"This," he whispered to the empty room, "is going to be very amusing."