Inside the ship's infirmary, Davy finished treating his wounds using the ship doctor's soul-possessed skills.
His entire body was wrapped in bandages, reeking of pungent medicinal herbs. Leaning slightly on the wall for support, he limped down from the bloodstained bed.
The ship doctor was dealt with.
His wounds were treated.
It was time to begin the revenge.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Soul-thrall Duke silently carried out his orders—chopping the ship doctor's corpse into pieces, blade rising and falling in mechanical rhythm.
Davy watched coldly, his expression not wavering in the slightest.
After absorbing the doctor's soul and memories, he was even more convinced that the man deserved a thousand deaths.
He felt not the faintest sympathy—only grim satisfaction.
These beasts deserved far worse.
"Ship doctor! You inside? The captain's calling for assembly!"
A voice echoed from outside—the same Robert who had been scolded earlier. Duke's chopping halted mid-swing.
Davy immediately ended the doctor's possession and manifested the doctor's puppet.
"What now?"
"Everyone's back. Captain wants to hold a banquet."
…A banquet?
A cold glint flashed in Davy's eyes. He nodded at the puppet to open the door.
Outside stood a young pirate, peering in nervously. When he caught sight of the grisly, slaughterhouse-like scene inside, he shrank back in fright.
"V-Vice-captain, you're here too?"
Duke didn't say a word. He simply grabbed Davy and marched out.
The young pirate exhaled in relief—until he heard the doctor's curt voice behind him.
"You. Go clean up the corpse."
Damn it…
The young pirate cursed inwardly. He tried to come up with an excuse to escape, but the ship doctor had already walked away.
Left with no choice, he stepped inside.
Broken bones.
Chunks of flesh.
The hollowed-out body of a little girl.
Shattered glass.
Puddles of foul-smelling fluids whose names he didn't even know.
"What a waste of a perfectly good toy… Sick bastard," he muttered, gagging as he forced himself to clean up.
――――
Meanwhile, Davy stored the doctor's soul within the Ghost Ship and followed Duke to the deck.
A large crowd had already gathered. Laughter and chatter filled the air as pirates bragged loudly about their latest "harvest."
"That village beauty wasn't all that. She flopped around like a dead pig."
"That's because you came late."
"Hey, first mate—how was your turn? I heard she was still a maiden?"
"Hah! Fiery little thing, that one. You guys should've seen how dumb those men were—fighting to the death for her. In the end, they just had to watch while their sweetheart got—"
The first mate turned mid-sentence—and met Davy's icy stare.
He paused, expression chilling.
Noticing Duke standing in front of the limping Davy, a look of disdain flashed across his face.
"Duke, we just finished a slaughter and you already bring trash aboard? Aren't you afraid he'll stab you in your sleep?"
The men around him burst into loud laughter. Others glanced over with mocking expressions.
"My business doesn't need your opinion."
Duke snorted. The first mate clicked his tongue but didn't push further.
Though he was strong, he didn't dare antagonize Duke too much—if the captain asked questions later, he'd be in trouble too.
The pirates naturally divided into cliques, grouping with those they were closest to.
Only "Duke" and Davy stood alone, attracting no one's attention.
Duke's twisted hobbies disgusted most of the crew—leaving him with no loyal subordinates.
Ironically, that was exactly what allowed him to rise to vice-captain: no entourage meant no threat.
For Davy, this was perfect.
The fewer people approaching them, the less chance of his disguise being exposed.
Suddenly—
The rowdy deck fell silent.
Davy followed the others' gaze upward.
A massive figure stood on the raised platform—arms crossed, surveying the deck below.
He wore a tricorn hat with a skull emblem.
His curly, bramble-like beard covered half his face.
At nearly two and a half meters tall, with slabs of muscle packed beneath rough skin, he radiated sheer menace.
He was the captain of this pirate crew—
the Devil Fruit user feared by his own officers—
Wraith Jim.
"Good. You're all behaving yourselves. No one brought women aboard."
Jim paused. His gaze drifted across the crew, slid over Davy… and stopped on Duke.
"Duke. Stop bringing your little playthings onto my ship. You've been with me for years—that's the only reason I've tolerated it. But this is the last time."
It really would be the last time.
A faint light flickered in Davy's eyes.
Beside him, Duke bowed deeply. "Yes, Captain."
Satisfied, Jim looked over the restless, beastlike crew and grinned.
"We've had a profitable hunt. Tonight—enjoy yourselves."
The moment the words left his mouth, a group of strong sailors rolled out barrels of food—fruit, bread, and sizzling roasted meat dripping with grease.
The aroma spread instantly, drowning out the stench of sweat and grime.
"Banquet!"
"Party!"
"Long live the captain!"
The deck erupted in cheers.
Jim nodded in approval but didn't join the feast. He turned and headed back toward his cabin.
"No wine for a banquet? What are you idiots standing around for? Go help!"
Duke barked and kicked Davy sharply.
Davy staggered forward several steps and hurried toward the storage room.
The pirates burst into wild laughter.
To them, it looked like Duke—once scolded by the captain—had immediately abandoned his "lover" and turned violent to regain favor.
None of them knew this was all Davy's carefully staged act.
Watching the limping boy being forced to carry wine barrels was amusing enough that no one questioned it further.
Seeing Duke's dark expression, everyone wisely avoided provoking him.
They threw arms over each other's shoulders and tore into the food with ravenous joy.
Such luxury was rare for them.
"Careful with that! Don't spill it!"
Voices echoed across the deck as the banquet preparations continued…
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