The walk back to Shakky's bar became a nightmare march through a corrupted fairy tale. The familiar, sun-dappled resin coating the mangrove roots began to change. Where it should have glowed amber in the twilight, it now oozed a sickly, bruised purple-black. Its texture turned greasy and cold underfoot, releasing a nauseating odor like spoiled fruit mixed with rusting iron. Where it dripped onto ferns, the leaves withered into brittle, gray lace within seconds.
"What the hell is this?!" Atlas snarled, his fur bristling with agitated blue sparks as he recoiled from a slick patch. He kicked a clump of the tainted resin, and it splattered like rotten tar, sticking foully to his boot.
"Keep moving, kit," Rayleigh commanded, his voice low and urgent, eyes scanning the deepening shadows ahead. He didn't break stride, herding the group forward with the quiet authority of a man who'd weathered countless storms.
Galit's long neck twisted sharply, his emerald eyes wide with horrified fascination as he watched the corruption spread. A thick rivulet of the black-purple ooze snaked down a nearby root, and where it touched the vibrant moss, vibrant green shriveled into ash-gray decay. "The bar... Shakky's Rip-Off... will its resin hold? Is it safe?" His voice held a rare tremor, the tactical mind overwhelmed by the sheer, unnatural wrongness.
Before anyone could answer, a sound washed over them – a rising tide of raw panic. It started as a distant rumble, then swelled into a cacophony of shrieks, sobs, and wordless terror. Around a bend in the path, a wall of humanity surged towards them. Shopkeepers, tourists, gamblers – eyes wide with primal fear, clothes torn, faces streaked with grime and the sickly purple residue. They weren't running to something; they were fleeing from it, a mindless stampede driven by pure survival instinct. "RUN!" a woman shrieked, her voice raw. "GET OUT! IT'S COMING!" Others just screamed, trampling ferns, shoving blindly, the sheer mass of bodies threatening to engulf the smaller group.
Henrick instinctively moved, positioning his bulk between the stampede and his family, Geo clutched tight against his shoulder, Lulee still asleep but now shielded by Fia's body. Jelly wobbled nervously, letting out a high-pitched "Bloop?" Shakky's sharp eyes narrowed, her hand drifting towards a hidden pocket.
"Marya!" Rayleigh's voice cut through the din, calm but carrying immense weight.
Marya didn't hesitate. With a curt nod, she and the Dark King stepped forward in unison, placing themselves between the oncoming tide and their vulnerable companions. They didn't shout. They didn't gesture. They simply stood, and the air around them shifted. An invisible wave of sheer, crushing will rolled outwards – Rayleigh's seasoned, indomitable presence intertwined with Marya's focused, cold intensity. It was Conqueror's Haki, a pressure that struck the front ranks of the mob like a physical blow. Dozens stumbled, eyes rolling back, collapsing boundlessly to the tainted ground.
But the tide behind them didn't stop. Driven by terror beyond reason, the next wave surged over their fallen comrades, oblivious, trampling them in their desperate flight. The sound of bodies hitting the ground, the sickening crunches beneath heedless feet, was horrifying.
Rayleigh cursed, a low, guttural sound. "Damn fools."
Marya's hand flashed to the obsidian hilt of Eternal Eclipse at her back. The blade whispered free, devouring the twilight around it, leaving trails of absolute darkness in the air. Her golden eyes were chips of ice.
"Wait!" Rayleigh barked, not looking at her but scanning the panicked horde beyond.
Marya's glare snapped to him, a flicker of incredulous anger breaking her stoicism. "Wait for what, Gramps?" Her voice was a sharp hiss. "To be flattened? They're not stopping!"
"Look again!" Rayleigh insisted, his gaze fixed past the immediate chaos.
Scowling, Marya focused past the screaming faces, past the trampling feet. Her Observation Haki flared, painting a picture beyond the visible panic. Her eyes widened fractionally, then hardened. "Damn it," she echoed Rayleigh's curse, the word tasting foul. "They're not just panicking. They're running from something. And it's gaining."
Shakky, pressed close to Fia and the children, her usual calm replaced by sharp focus, asked the critical question: "What's the plan?"
Marya's gaze locked with Rayleigh's. For a heartbeat, the weight of the unspoken hung between them – the cursed sword, the unstable power, the source of the corruption in Grove 4. Then Marya jerked her chin towards the direction of the still-roaring geyser. "We need to stop it. At the source."
Rayleigh gave a single, firm nod. "Agreed."
Atlas, sparks flying wildly now, gestured frantically at the still-advancing mob trampling over their unconscious kin. "What about them?!"
Marya sighed, a sound of pure exasperation cutting through the din. She adjusted her grip on Eclipse. "Everyone step back!" she commanded, her voice carrying surprising authority. She didn't raise the blade to strike the crowd. Instead, she focused upwards, towards the massive canopy formed by the intertwined mangrove roots high above the path. Her obsidian blade pulsed once with dark energy. She made a short, sharp, horizontal motion.
High above, unseen in the gloom, a thick, ancient mangrove branch, already weakened by the spreading corruption, groaned under a sudden, targeted surge of invisible force. With a deafening CRACK-SNAP, it sheared off. It plummeted downwards like a falling siege tower, crashing down directly in front of the charging mob with a thunderous BOOM that shook the ground. Earth and corrupted resin sprayed. The massive trunk and its tangle of smaller branches created a sudden, impassable barrier, forcing the stampede to veer wildly to the sides, funneling away from Marya's group.
Galit stared at the sudden barricade of wood and writhing purple-black ooze, then back at Marya, his analytical mind reeling. "The bar... are we still proceeding to the bar?"
Rayleigh was already moving, herding them forward around the edges of the chaos, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Yes," he stated, his voice grim but resolute. "First, we secure the nest. Then we deal with the wasps." The scent of scorched earth, sulfur, and decay grew stronger, carried on a wind that felt unnaturally cold. The bar wasn't just shelter anymore; it was a vital stronghold in a grove rapidly succumbing to a nightmare.
The path to Shakky's Rip-Off Bar became a gauntlet through a corrupted dreamscape. The sickly purple-black resin pulsed like diseased veins under the mangrove canopy, its greasy chill leaching warmth from the air. The stench – scorched metal, rotten fruit, and sulfur – grew thicker, carried on a wind that whispered with unnatural cold. Every step crunched over brittle, withered ferns that had succumbed to the ooze mere moments before. The distant roar of the geyser was a constant, grinding bass note beneath the nearer sounds of panicked flight echoing through the groves.
They moved fast, a tight knot of urgency. Rayleigh led, his weathered face set in grim lines, eyes scanning the shifting shadows. Shakky moved with surprising agility beside him, her usual smoky nonchalance replaced by sharp vigilance. Henrick, carrying the drowsy Geo like precious cargo, formed a massive, protective wall beside Fia, who carried Lulee. Marya and Galit flanked the rear, Marya's golden eyes constantly sweeping the path behind, Eclipse a dark promise at her back. Atlas crackled with nervous energy, fur sparking blue, while Jelly wobbled anxiously, his usual "Bloop!" reduced to frightened whimpers.
They rounded the final bend, the familiar bamboo facade of the bar visible through the gloom like a beacon. Relief was a tangible wave – they were almost there.
Then, Lulee screamed.
It wasn't a cry of fear, but a sharp, pained shriek. Her the black-purple ooze has splattered, landing on her arm. Fia, instinctively pulling her daughter closer, lost her own balance. Her ankle twisted on the uneven, corrupted ground. Mother and daughter went down in a tangle of limbs, landing hard in a thick pool of the viscous sludge near the bar's bamboo steps.
"Fia! Lulee!" Henrick's roar was primal, a sound of pure dread. He surged forward, setting Geo down roughly but safely on the bar's top step before leaping towards his family. He moved with terrifying speed, a hammerhead shark breaching in shallow water, heedless of the danger.
"Henrick, NO!" Rayleigh's command was sharp, but too late.
Henrick crashed to his knees beside them, massive hands reaching, already smeared with the ooze as he tried to pull Fia and Lulee free. The corruption reacted instantly. Where the sludge touched Fia's coral-pink hair, vibrant strands darkened to a sickly plum, the color leaching away like spilled ink in water. Lulee whimpered, staring in horror as the greasy black tendrils snaked up her tail where she'd fallen, the scales beneath turning an ashen gray. Fia gasped, trying to push herself up, but her hands sank deeper into the mire, the purple-black stain spreading rapidly up her forearms like fast-acting poison.
Rayleigh cursed, a low, furious sound. The horror of it froze the group for a crucial second. There was no time, no way to pull them out without being infected themselves. The ooze was alive, hungry.
Galit's voice cut through the stunned silence, tight with horror and tactical assessment. "The bar… do we still proceed? They are… compromised." His long neck was rigid, emerald eyes fixed on the spreading corruption consuming Fia's arms.
Shakky didn't hesitate. Her voice was steel wrapped in velvet, cold and certain. "Yes. Nothing can be done for them here. Inside. Now." Her gaze locked onto Marya, a silent command passing between them.
Marya's face was a mask of stoic ice, but her knuckles were white where they gripped Eclipse's hilt. She saw the terror in Fia's eyes, the confusion in Lulee's, the raw, helpless agony in Henrick's as he cradled his wife, his own massive arms now streaked with the creeping blackness. They were obstacles now, vectors of the nightmare. Her voice, when it came, was flat, devoid of inflection, cutting through Henrick's choked sobs and the children's whimpers. "Okay then. We're almost there. Let's get moving." She shifted her stance, subtly herding Geo, Atlas, Jelly, and Galit towards the bar door, her gaze never leaving the encroaching shadows beyond the infected family.
They filed into the dim, familiar space of Shakky's Rip-Off Bar. The comforting scents of coffee and rum were buried under the invasive stench of decay carried in on their clothes. Geo huddled, silent tears streaking through the grime on his face, clutching his starfish. Jelly quivered near the counter, a small, frightened blue blob. Atlas paced, sparks flying, radiating restless fury.
Rayleigh slammed the heavy satchel of coating tools onto the floor with a clatter that shook dust from the rafters. In one fluid motion, he moved behind the counter, his hand closing around the worn hilt of his sword where it leaned in its customary spot. The blade whispered free, gleaming dully in the dim light, a simple weapon radiating immense latent power. He turned, the Dark King fully present in his eyes.
"Shakky, can you—?" Rayleigh began, his gaze sweeping the bar's vulnerable points – the windows, the bamboo door.
Shakky was already moving. She kicked a hidden floorboard near the stove. With a smooth shunk, a panel slid open in the wall behind the counter, revealing an array of weapons: polished flintlock pistols, wickedly sharp cutlasses, and several round objects that looked suspiciously like impact-dial grenades. She grabbed two pistols, expertly checking their loads. "Go," she interrupted, her voice calm but carrying absolute authority. She didn't look at him, her sharp eyes already assessing the bar's defenses, one pistol aimed casually towards the shuttered windows. "I have things under control here." Her posture was relaxed, almost languid, but radiating lethal readiness. The sleepy calico cat was nowhere to be seen.
Rayleigh met her gaze for a split second. A lifetime of understanding passed between them. He gave a single, sharp nod. Then his focus snapped to Marya, Galit, Atlas, and Jelly. The weight of the coming conflict settled on his shoulders. His voice, when he spoke, was the crack of a whip, filled with the urgency of a storm bearing down.
"Right then. Marya, Galit, Atlas, Jelly! Let's go! The source won't wait!" He was already moving towards the bamboo door, his sword held low and ready, the legendary pirate ready to face the heart of the nightmare threatening Sabaody. The bar door creaked open, revealing the deepening twilight stained with unnatural purple and echoing with distant screams. The mission to Grove 4 had begun.
*****
The unnatural twilight in Grove 4 wasn't just dark; it was drowned. The towering geyser still roared, vomiting superheated steam and debris skyward, its base a churning pit of molten earth and shattered mangrove roots. But the true horror was the creeping tide. The purple-black resin oozed like a living wound, consuming everything it touched – trees withered into skeletal husks, cobblestones dissolved into foul sludge, and the air reeked of scorched metal, spoiled fruit, and the chilling emptiness of decay. Panicked civilians, their skin streaked with the ooze or gray with ash, stumbled through the chaos, directed by harried Marines.
Vice Admiral Venus Harlow stood near the unstable pit's edge, her white coat smudged with soot, cigar abandoned. Her prosthetic leg thump-clanked rhythmically as she barked orders into a Den Den Mushi, her voice raw. "Medic team to Sector Delta! The root structure's failing! Evacuate that building NOW! Sentomaru, where's the damn containment barrier?!" Beside her, Sentomaru, sweat streaking through the grime on his face, bellowed at engineers struggling with bulky, sputtering machines meant to contain the spreading corruption. "Double-time! Channel it towards the sinkhole! Don't let it reach the main aquifer!"
High above, Captain Nuri Evander circled in his Arambourgiania hybrid form – massive leathery wings beating against the turbulent, sulfur-laden air. Kai Sullivan stood balanced on the pterosaur's back, violin case secured, sniper rifle in hand. He peered through his scope, his usual analytical mutterings a frantic stream into his own Den Den Mushi. "Structural collapse imminent near the geyser's northwest flank... Energy signature spiking erratically... Civilians bottlenecked near the eastern market square... Wait... Movement vector: Northeast approach path. High speed." He adjusted his glasses with his middle finger. "Identity confirmed: Rayleigh, Marya Zaleska, Long-Neck, Mink, and... anomalous jellyfish entity. Heading directly towards the epicenter."
Nuri banked sharply, his beak-like snout opening. "Vice Admiral! Unwanted company! Rayleigh's crew inbound, fast! Looks like they're aiming for the pit!"
Down below, Harlow snatched her Den Den Mushi from her belt. "What?!" she snarled, her scar stark against her paling face. "Sentomaru! They're–"
Sentomaru was already grabbing his own snail, his voice a furious growl. "Report confirmed! Pirates inbound! Northeast approach!"
Harlow slammed her fist against a cracked stone plinth. "Damn it all! We don't have the time or the resources for this right now!" She glared towards the roiling pit, then the direction of the incoming threat, torn between the immediate catastrophe and the looming confrontation. Sentomaru echoed her sentiment with a guttural curse, his grip tightening on his giant axe.
Marya, Rayleigh, Galit, Atlas, and Jelly moved like shadows through the periphery of the nightmare. They skirted panicked mobs, leaped over widening cracks spewing greasy black vapor, and used crumbling walls and half-consumed root structures as cover. Marya's Observation Haki pulsed, mapping safe paths through the unstable terrain, avoiding patches of actively spreading ooze. Atlas's fur sparked with nervous energy, Galit's long neck swiveled constantly, analyzing structural weaknesses and Marine positions, while Jelly wobbled close to Marya, letting out soft, anxious "Bloops."
They reached a relatively stable vantage point overlooking the main disaster zone – the churning pit, the frantic Marines, the geyser's hellish glow painting Harlow and Sentomaru in stark relief. The scale of the corruption was staggering.
Galit stared, his emerald eyes wide behind his glasses. "The structural degradation is exponential... The civilian casualties... What is our primary objective? Intervention? Containment assistance?" His voice held a rare note of uncertainty.
Marya opened her mouth, her golden eyes coldly assessing the Marines' chaotic efforts. Before she could answer, a bellow cut through the din.
"YOU!"
Sentomaru stood atop a partially collapsed wall, his axe pointed directly at them. Vice Admiral Harlow stood beside him, her face a mask of fury barely held in check. "We don't have time to deal with pirates!" Sentomaru roared, his voice raw. "Get lost before you make this worse!"
Marya raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow. Her voice, when it came, was calm, cutting through the geyser's roar. "What caused this? What's the source feeding the corruption?"
Sentomaru, stressed and focused on the immediate collapse threatening a nearby building, snapped without thinking, "I'll never tell you about the Celestial Vanguard's secret lab buried under these roots! Now SCRAM!"
Rayleigh couldn't suppress a dry chuckle. Harlow whirled on Sentomaru, her voice a venomous hiss. "Idiot!"
Harlow stepped forward, her prosthetic leg striking the cracked ground with finality. Her eyes burned into Marya. "Zaleska. Your purpose? I don't have time for arrests now, but I will see you in chains before I leave this island."
A slow, infuriating smirk spread across Marya's face. She deliberately uncrossed her arms, cocked one hip, and let her gaze drift pointedly down to Harlow's mechanical limb. "Purpose? Stopping this," she gestured at the hellscape around them, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "How's the leg? Still giving you trouble when the weather turns sour?" She tapped her own thigh meaningfully.
Harlow's knuckles turned white around the hilt of Leviathan's Claws. Her composure shattered. "Your father isn't here to save you this time, you little–!"
Rayleigh smoothly stepped beside Marya, his weathered face curious. "Old acquaintance, Marya?" His tone was deceptively mild.
"Something like that," Marya replied airily, not taking her eyes off Harlow's livid face.
"DON'T IGNORE ME!" Harlow shrieked, her voice cracking.
"Marya," Rayleigh murmured, a hint of warning in his calm tone. "Perhaps less provoking?"
Marya tilted her head slightly towards him, her smirk still in place. "Tch. Not like it takes much effort," she muttered just loud enough to carry.
Rayleigh sighed, then stepped fully forward, addressing Harlow and Sentomaru with the weary authority of a man who'd ended wars. "Vice Admiral. Commander. Look around you." He spread his hands, encompassing the crumbling grove, the spreading corruption, the screaming civilians, the overwhelmed Marines. "This isn't a Marine problem or a pirate problem. It's an everyone problem. That corruption is spreading faster than your teams can contain it. If it reaches the island's core resin veins... Sabaody is finished."
He met Harlow's furious gaze squarely. "We propose a temporary truce. Work together. Contain this. Find the source and stop it. Then you can try arresting us. If you still can."
Sentomaru's face contorted in disbelief. "Work with pirates?! Don't be absurd, Dark King! Absolute–"
Harlow silenced him with a sharp gesture. Her eyes, still burning with hatred for Marya, darted between Rayleigh's steady gaze and the relentless advance of the purple-black ooze consuming a field hospital tent mere yards away. The agonized cries of trapped civilians were a constant backdrop. The weight of command, the scale of the disaster, pressed down. Her jaw worked, the muscles in her scarred cheek twitching. The metallic thump of her prosthetic leg seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden, tense silence broken only by the roar of the geyser and the groaning earth. The decision hung in the toxic air.