Solo Pirating - Chapter 75

Chapter 75

20th of April 1522

Marineford

Blamenco, Haruta, and Izou charged at Moria with unyielding determination. Their eyes blazed with the fury of warriors ready to die for their cause. Moria sneered and summoned five new shadows. These were unlike any he had summoned before, their forms more defined and sinister.

One shadow took the shape of a towering samurai, its body clad in dark, traditional Wano garb. Blamenco's massive blade clashed with the samurai's, the force of the impact sending tremors through the ground. The samurai's sword deflected Blamenco's with ease, driving him back with a brutal, metallic screech. Another shadow stepped forward, a cigarette dangling from its lips, launching into a series of burning leg kicks. Each strike connected with a sickening thud, flesh searing and bones cracking. "Kishishishi! Meet your end!" Moria cackled, his eyes gleaming with dark delight.

The shadows of Shiryu, Boa, and Lucci materialized beside Moria, who smiled at the new camouflaged  appearances of his named Shadows. Shiryu was a grotesque giant in full Samurai armor, each step he took sending tremors through the ground. Boa's shadow was a shapeless feminine form, an eerie, seductive presence that radiated malice. Lucci's shadow took the form of a Shaolin monk with a staff made of Shadows, his movements fluid and deadly.

Blamenco swung his blade again, aiming for the giant shadow samurai. But Moria used tendrils made of Shadows to catch him while Shiryu's transformed figure blocked the attack, driving Blamenco back. The shadow's blade slashed across the immobilized Blamenco's chest, leaving a deep, gory gash that spilled blood onto the ground. Blamenco grunted in pain, staggering back as blood poured from his wound.

Haruta and Izou lunged at Moria, but Boa's shadow danced between them, evading their strikes with ease. With a swift, brutal kick, it sent Haruta sprawling, his scream of pain echoing across the battlefield. Lucci's monk shadow engaged Izou, their clash a deadly dance of fists and blades. Izou's pistols barked, but the shadow monk deflected the bullets, closing the distance with lethal intent. Blamenco roared in frustration and swung again at Shiryu, but the giant samurai's blade met his with bone-crushing force, sending shockwaves through the air. The shadow's armor twisted, bristling with spikes and cruel edges, and, from behind, Moria's blade slashed across Blamenco's chest, leaving a deep, bleeding gash. Blamenco roared in agony, his blood splattering the ground.

Haruta recovered, his blade aiming for Moria's heart. But the cigarette-smoking shadow intercepted him, its legs blazing with fiery kicks. Each strike landed with devastating impact, searing flesh and breaking bone. Haruta's screams echoed as he fell, his body battered and burning. The scent of charred flesh filled the air. Izou, seeing his comrades fall, fought with renewed desperation. But the combined assault of Lucci's shadow monk and Boa's ethereal form was too much. The shadow monk's fists pummeled him relentlessly, each blow shattering bone and will. Boa's shadow moved in with a final, fatal strike, her form wrapping around Izou like a deadly embrace, squeezing the life from him. Izou's final scream was cut short as he crumpled to the ground.

Blamenco, mortally wounded, made one last, desperate charge at Moria. But Shiryu's shadow samurai stepped in, its blade slicing cleanly through Blamenco's neck. Blood sprayed in a gruesome arc, his head severed from his body, and the massive commander collapsed in a lifeless heap.

Moria's maniacal laughter filled the air, mingling with the dying screams of the commanders. "Kishishishi! Witness the power of my shadows!" The battlefield was a scene of carnage, the ground soaked with blood and littered with broken bodies. Moria stood victorious amidst the chaos, his fear now a distant memory, replaced by the thrill of absolute power. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a grim testament to the brutal fight and the merciless slaughter.

Kill three Whitebeard Pirates with a Fate of A or higher : 1/3 → 3/3

"Absorb"

— — —

20th of April 1522

Dressrosa

Beneath the towering grandeur of the Corrida Colosseum, in the heart of Dressrosa's underground trade port, stood the SMILE Factory.  Lush greenery flourished under the dome’s roof, where luminescent sunflowers, known as Elegant Sunflowers, cast a soft, surreal glow over the scene. Trees and bushes groaned under the weight of SMILE fruits, their eerie perfection marred by the neglect evident in the nearby piles of rotting fish labeled “Meal.” Tiny Tontatta dwarves scurried about, their every movement a testament to the forced labor driving the production of the artificial Devil Fruits.

In the midst of this verdant dystopia, Trebol lingered, his hunched form blending with the shadows. His thoughts were consumed by his Prince, Donquixote Doflamingo, whose strength and ambition he revered. “He will thrive in the war,” Trebol murmured to himself, his voice a sticky whisper. “Moria will pay, and Doflamingo will rise supreme.”

Nearby, Giolla’s artistic laughter mixed with Sugar’s childlike giggles, their playful banter a stark contrast to the grim industry around them. The dwarves, oblivious to the mirth, continued their ceaseless toil, the threat of their princess, Mansherry’s captivity, driving them onward.

Trebol’s mind wandered to the revenge he hoped for. The bastard who killed Diamante—he hoped Pica and his men had dealt with that threat, crushing them utterly. His musings were abruptly shattered by an explosion. Amid the acrid scent of burning machinery, the SMILE Factory erupted into chaos. Trebol's eyes darted through the smoke.

"What the hell?" Trebol spat, mucus tendrils ready as he positioned himself protectively before Sugar, who stood trembling, her wide eyes reflecting the pandemonium.

The door had exploded inward. From the dust and debris, fucking Selena Whitefang emerged, already in her hybdirf form. Red hair, wild and feral, framed her face, her eyes glinting with predatory hunger. Her body, sculpted from years of brutal training, was now adorned with the savage beauty of a wolf. Bronze skin stretched over rippling muscles, claws extending from her hands, and a low growl emanated from her throat.

"Trebol," she snarled, her voice a mix of seduction and menace. "Your time is up. You should not have fucked with the Boss, you stupids dumb fucks."

Trebol barely had time to react as a massive, Haki-coated axe swung toward him. He parried, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his sticky limbs. Before he could recover, Mikita, a blur of motion with her short blond hair and fierce green eyes, engaged Giolla, her parasol forgotten in the frenzy of combat.

Giolla's artistic laughter turned into a gasp of pain as Mikita's attacks landed with precision. Trebol's attention snapped back to Selena. Her hybrid form moved with a grace and lethality that was almost hypnotic. She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Trebol countered, but the sheer power and speed of her attacks left him reeling.

"You think you can protect her?" Selena taunted, her voice dripping with contempt. "Your little toy princess?"

To his surprise and horror, behind the wolf-woman, Monet stepped forward, her green hair flowing like a serpent's coils, her wings casting long, ominous shadows. Sugar, seeing her, whispered, "Big sister?" Her voice was fragile, cracking under the weight of betrayal.

Monet's eyes were cold as she raised a hand, snow swirling around her fingers. In an instant, Sugar was encased in ice, her body collapsing as unconsciousness claimed her.  With Sugar's fall, the fragile control over Dressrosa shattered. As every toy transformed back into its original form, chaos spreading through the kingdom. Families reunited in shock, pirates and wild beasts roared to life, and the Donquixote Family's dominion crumbled.

Trebol's heart pounded as he faced Selena. "Doflamingo," he muttered, his voice a desperate prayer, knowing that the world as they knew it was unraveling. The air was thick with tension, the scent of blood and fear mingling with the factory's mechanical hum. Selena lunged again, her form a deadly dance of power and grace, and Trebol braced himself for the onslaught, the dark romance of their deadly encounter unfurling in the heart of the collapsing empire.

— —

20th of April 1522

Dressrosa

Princess Viola stood amid the throng in Dressrosa's Grand Place, her heart pounding as the enormous screen broadcasted the chaos of the Marineford War. The plaza, usually alive with laughter and joy, had fallen into a hushed tension. All eyes were fixed on the flickering images, and the air was thick with anticipation.

Viola's breath caught in her throat when Doflamingo appeared on the screen. His presence, as always, was commanding and terrifying. The people around her whispered in awe and fear, but she felt only a cold dread settling in her stomach. Her fingers trembled slightly, clutching the edge of her deep red dress, the intricate black lace biting into her skin. She stood tall, her long dark hair cascading in waves down her back, eyes fixed on the battle unfolding.

"Do you think he’ll win?" One of Bege's man beside her murmured to another.

Viola swallowed hard. "Moria must win. For all of us."

On the screen, Moria and Doflamingo clashed with a ferocity that stole the breath of every onlooker. Viola's heart raced as she silently cheered for Moria. Each strike, each dodge, brought her closer to the edge of her self-control. Moria's strength and determination shone through, his monstrous form moving with surprising agility. He parried Doflamingo's razor-sharp strings, the shockwaves of their Haki-infused blows shaking the very air.

"Expose him," Viola whispered, her voice lost in the murmur of the crowd. Her hope flared as Moria began to speak, revealing the truth about Doflamingo's treachery. Her heart swelled with warmth as he laid bare the deception that had ruined her family and her country. The dark prince of Dressrosa, who had masqueraded as a savior, was being stripped of his lies.

Around her, the crowd reacted with horror and disbelief. Faces twisted in disgust, shock rippled through the gathered citizens as they learned how Doflamingo had framed King Riku, taking control of their beloved country. Gasps and cries echoed through the plaza, the truth spreading like wildfire.

"My father... he was innocent!" a young man shouted, his voice breaking.

"They made us turn against him," an elderly woman sobbed, clutching a photograph of King Riku.

Then, the moment of reckoning. Moria's final strike pierced Doflamingo's chest, a fatal blow that sent him staggering. Viola watched, her heart pounding with a strange mixture of triumph and something deeper, as Doflamingo fell. His lifeless body crumpled, and the plaza erupted in chaos.

At the same time, Bege's received a message from Mikita through his snail transponder. Sugar had fallen, and they had captured her. With Sugar's fall, the control she had exerted over Dressrosa shattered. Toys transformed back into their original forms, memories flooding back as people recognized their loved ones. Pirates and wild beasts roared to life, and the Donquixote Family's reign crumbled. Pandemonium ensued, but Viola's eyes were locked on the screen, on the handsome face of Moria.

Around her, the crowd began to buzz with recognition. Whispers grew louder, eyes turned toward her. "Princess Viola," they murmured, the name spreading like a wildfire through the gathered masses. Bege's men, hidden among the crowd, fueled the rumors.

"It's Selena Whitefang! She captured Sugar! Moria freed us!"

"The true royal family is here!"

Viola stood tall, her heart swelling with a renewed sense of purpose. The people of Dressrosa needed her now more than ever. As chaos reigned around her, she stepped forward, raising her voice above the clamor.

"People of Dressrosa!" she called, her voice strong and clear. "The time of tyranny is over! We will rebuild our kingdom together!"

The crowd surged around her, their shock and disbelief giving way to hope and determination. Bege’s men discreetly guided the people, whispering encouragements, until a chant began to swell.

“Viola! Princess Viola!”

A wave of acclamation washed over her, the people’s voices rising in a crescendo of support and adoration. Viola felt a deep connection to them, to her home, and a newfound respect for Moria, the dark savior who had brought them freedom.

"Long live Princess Viola!" someone shouted, and the cry was picked up by others until it echoed throughout the plaza.

As the plaza buzzed with the energy of a new beginning, Viola knew that her place was here, with her people, guiding them into a brighter future. She took a deep breath, the weight of her responsibility settling on her shoulders, but also a warm glow in her heart. Dressrosa was free, and she would lead them to a new dawn.