Solo Pirating - Chapter 90

Chapter 90

4th of May, 1522

Fish-Man Island

Flames roared through the vibrant streets of Fishman Island, turning the bioluminescent beauty into a hellscape of burning coral and blood. King Neptune's trident clashed against the steel of the pirate captain, a grinning beast of a man, scarred and monstrous. Screams of agony filled the water, mingling with the sickening crunch of bones and the guttural cries of the dying. The king's heart pounded in his chest, his muscles straining as he fought to defend his home.

"Is this the great King Neptune?" the captain sneered, his voice a cruel rasp. "Defender of Fishman Island? You're nothing but a pathetic old relic, unable to protect your own people. With Whitebeard gone, Fishman Island will be mine!" His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he swung his massive sword, forcing Neptune back.

"Stay back, you fiend!" Neptune roared, his trident a blur of desperate strikes. But his strength was waning, each blow weaker than the last. He watched in horror as his people were butchered, their screams tearing at his soul.

A high-pitched scream pierced the chaos, but this time it wasn’t from one of his people. Neptune turned, eyes wide, to see a pirate clutching his severed arm, blood billowing around him like ink in water. A green-haired swordsman with three blades moved with lethal grace, each strike a dance of death, cutting down pirates that had overpowered Neptune's finest soldiers.

"Who dares—?" the pirate captain snarled, only to be cut off by a whirlwind of steel. The swordsman's blades flashed, and the captain's head tumbled to the ground, his expression frozen in a mask of shock.

Behind the swordsman, a man with blades instead of limbs carved through the invaders, his movements precise and deadly. He moved with a dancer’s elegance, slicing through flesh and bone as easily as if he were trimming hedges. Beside him, a woman with spikes protruding from her body tore into the pirates, her laughter a chilling counterpoint to the carnage she wrought. Her spikes impaled enemies, their bodies hanging grotesquely as she flung them aside like broken dolls.

Amidst the chaos, a figure stood tranquilly, sipping from a goblet of what seemed to be red wine. Her long white hair flowed around her, and her red eyes gleamed with an eerie light. She was a vision of cold, aristocratic beauty, untouched by the violence that surrounded her. She watched the slaughter with a detached interest, as if it were a mere performance for her amusement.

Neptune's gaze met hers, and for a moment, he saw the depths of her cruelty reflected in those crimson eyes. The despair that had gripped his heart was replaced by a flicker of hope. Whoever these newcomers were, they had turned the tide. The pirates, who had moments before seemed unstoppable, now fell like wheat before the scythe.

With renewed vigor, Neptune raised his trident and roared, "Drive them back! For Fishman Island!" His voice rang out, a rallying cry for his remaining soldiers, who surged forward with newfound strength.

The green-haired swordsman, the blade-limbed man, and the spiked woman continued their massacre, each kill swift and brutal. The white-haired woman took another sip from her goblet, her lips curling into a faint smile as she watched the bloodshed unfold.

As the last of the pirates fell, Neptune stood amidst the wreckage of his kingdom, his chest heaving. He turned to the green-haired swordsman, gratitude and curiosity mingling in his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

The swordsman grunted, his eyes cold and distant, offering no answer. He sheathed his blades with a practiced ease, the steel sliding into their scabbards with a finality that echoed in the silence.

The woman with white hair stepped forward, her goblet of wine now empty. She glided like a wraith through the carnage, her crimson eyes flickering with an unsettling intensity. "Allow me to introduce him," she said, her voice smooth and sharp as cut glass. "This is Roronoa Zoro, one of Gecko Moria's Four Generals and Head of the God of the Sun's Army."

Neptune's eyes widened at the revelation. Roronoa Zoro, a name whispered in fear and awe across the seas, a name synonymous with deadly skill and unwavering loyalty to Moria. He looked back at the swordsman, who stood silently, his presence imposing and unyielding.

The woman continued, a faint smile playing on her lips. "And I am Isabella Von Carstein, Vice-Head of the God of the Forest's Army." She gave a slight bow, her white hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk. "We are here on behalf of our master, Gecko Moria, to ensure the safety and stability of Fishman Island."

As she spoke, Isabella filled her goblet with the blood of the fallen pirates, the crimson liquid swirling with a macabre beauty. She raised the goblet to her lips and drank deeply, her eyes never leaving Neptune's. A shiver ran down his spine as he watched, horror mingling with fascination.

"Without Whitebeard's protection, you are weak," Isabella said, her tone matter-of-fact. "Gecko Moria proposes to replace Whitebeard as your protector."

Neptune, a seasoned diplomat, was not entirely surprised by the proposition. "Even though Gecko Moria is strong, and I saw his power during the war, he is not as strong as an Emperor," he said cautiously.

Isabella laughed, a sound so sultry and chilling that it made Neptune shiver in horror. "Strength is not merely a matter of raw power," she purred. "Protection from the Emperors is largely dissuasive. They do not station their forces on your island, and while they may avenge you, they cannot prevent the initial attack. Moria, on the other hand, can station Shadow Soldiers and Stone Ushabtis here. And if needed, he can teleport directly."

Neptune's eyes narrowed, considering her words. Isabella reached into her cloak and pulled out a newspaper, unfolding it to reveal a front-page image. Neptune's breath caught as he recognized one of Kaido's lieutenants, utterly massacred by Moria, the brutal scene frozen in stark, haunting detail.

"King Moria's reach is extensive, his power formidable," Isabella said softly, her voice a silken whisper. "He can offer you something the Emperors cannot—immediate and constant protection."

Neptune's eyes, filled with a mixture of desperation and caution, locked onto Isabella's. "And what would this protection cost us?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with an underlying dread.

Isabella's smile widened, a predatory glint in her crimson eyes. "I am here to discuss the terms," she replied, her tone dripping with calculated charm. "My Lord Moria is a reasonable man, but power and protection come with their price. Rest assured, he values alliances built on mutual benefit."

The king's mind raced, weighing the options. His kingdom was in ruins, his people broken. The thought of submitting to another powerful figure so soon after losing Whitebeard's protection was daunting, but the alternative was unthinkable.

"Once we advance in our negotiations," Isabella continued smoothly, "My Lord Moria will personally come to finalize the agreement. He can teleport wherever he wishes, ensuring swift and direct communication."

Neptune's gaze shifted to Roronoa Zoro, who stood like a silent sentinel, and then back to Isabella. He took a deep breath, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on him. "Very well," he said, his voice resolute. "Let us begin these negotiations. My people cannot endure another day without hope."

Isabella inclined her head, her smile never faltering. "A wise decision, Your Majesty. Shall we proceed to a more suitable setting for our discussions?"

— — — — — —

4th of May, 1522

Alabasta

Gecko Moria lounged in the lush seraglio garden, an oasis of vibrant flora and fragrant blooms, the air thick with the scent of exotic spices. The garden's tranquility was a striking contrast to the dark figure who stood at its heart. Moria, towering at seven meters, possessed an unnerving elegance. His ghostly pale skin seemed almost translucent in the dappled light, revealing the veins beneath, and his lithe, muscular frame was adorned in flowing linen robes embroidered with ancient, golden symbols. His sharp, predatory features—pointed ears and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth—completed his visage of a deity of death, a spectral monarch presiding over his domain.

He had earned to rewards during Marineford…What should he do: start with the cursed box or the blessed box? Perhaps he should keep the cursed box, as it would give him something crucial and truly needed. It might prove invaluable when he would face challenges or truly need its power.

With a wave of his hand, Moria’s voice resonated through the stillness, "Random Blessed Box." In response, an eldritch box materialized before him, suspended in the air. The box was a deep, mystical blue, its surface covered in shifting, glowing runes that seemed to swim and writhe like living creatures. The runes traced intricate, labyrinthine patterns, whispering secrets of forgotten realms and ancient powers.

[Blessed Box]

It contains something you want. Be careful, for even blessings can carry hidden costs.

Moria's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he reached out, his long fingers tracing the pulsating designs on the box. The very air around him seemed to hum with arcane energy. With a slow, deliberate motion, he opened the box. A radiant light spilled forth, momentarily blinding, casting surreal shadows that danced wildly among the garden’s foliage. 

"I know what I want the most…but how is it going to manifest ?"

As the light dimmed, it revealed a Devil Fruit. The fruit was a mesmerizing blend of deep blue and radiant gold, its surface covered in swirling, fractal patterns that seemed to defy the natural order. The blue was rich and infinite, like a midnight sky teeming with hidden stars, while the gold shimmered and shifted, reminiscent of liquid sunlight caught in an eternal dance. It radiated an aura of profound power and enigmatic promise, drawing the eye with an almost hypnotic allure.

[Akuma Akuma no Mi, Model : Marid]

Type : Loan (Mythical)

Concept : Djinn : Marid

Soul Increase : from 500 to 6 000

Djinns, ancient and mystical entities of immense power, are born from smokeless fire, existing in a realm parallel to our own. They are beings of great capriciousness, capable of both benevolence and malevolence, depending on their whims. Djinns are known to possess incredible abilities such as shapeshifting, invisibility, and influencing human emotions and thoughts. They are revered and feared across many cultures, their presence often linked to tales of magic and wonder. Djinns can traverse the boundaries between the physical and the metaphysical, making them formidable and enigmatic figures in folklore and legend.

Among the djinns, the Marid stand as the most powerful and haughty. These mighty beings are often depicted as enormous and imposing, their forms shimmering with a potent, ethereal energy. Marid possess unparalleled strength and command over the elements, particularly water. They are capable of conjuring massive storms, manipulating oceans, and controlling the very weather itself. Marid are also known for their vast knowledge and cunning, able to outwit even the most astute of humans. Their immense power makes them highly sought after by those who seek to harness their abilities, but their pride and independence make them difficult to control.

Controlling a Marid is a task fraught with peril and requires specific, rare items. Traditionally, a Marid can be captured and bound within a bottle or a lamp, artifacts often enchanted with powerful spells to hold the djinn. For those who manage to obtain a strand of a Marid’s hair, the djinn can be influenced, though not completely controlled. However, the ultimate form of control lies in possessing the Marid's wisdom teeth—an incredibly rare and dangerous feat. With their wisdom teeth in hand, one can exert absolute command over the Marid, bending its will entirely to their own. This level of control is coveted by many but achieved by very few, as the Marid fiercely guard their freedom and are reluctant to submit to any form of subjugation.

Moria's eyes widened with manic glee as he took in the sight of the Devil Fruit. "Exactly what I wanted!" he exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the garden like the cackling of a mad god. The power radiating from the fruit was intoxicating, and Moria's mind raced with the possibilities it held. These random boxes were truly incredible, and a burning desire to obtain more of them surged within him.

Still clutching the fruit, Moria's form dissolved into the shadows, merging seamlessly with the darkness around him. He reemerged in the dimly lit office of an elderly nurse, the one who had helped raise and educate Vivi. The sudden appearance startled her, and she quickly bowed low before her king, her voice trembling as she greeted him.

"Your Majesty," she stammered, "how may I serve you?"

Moria's eyes glinted with a sinister purpose as he stepped closer. "Where are Vivi's wisdom teeth?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

The nurse's eyes widened in surprise and confusion, but she dared not disobey. "I... I believe they are kept in a small chest in her chambers, my lord," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Moria's smile widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Excellent," he purred. "Fetch them for me. Immediately."

The nurse bowed again, her heart pounding with fear as she hurried to fulfill the king's command.