The next morning, Fish-Man Island appeared peaceful on the surface—but undercurrents were already surging.
After all, not every ship successfully reached Fish-Man Island from the surface. Even when coated, there were countless dangers in the deep sea:
Sea Kings, sea beasts, undersea volcanic eruptions, pirate ambushes, and more.
When ships were destroyed and crews perished, the wreckage would drift with the currents, gathering in the southeast of Fish-Man Island—at the "Ship Graveyard," also known as the "Sea Forest."
Here lived Fish-Man Island's most skilled shipwright, the merfolk craftsman Den. He made his home among the sprawling seafloor trees and scattered wreckage.
As a shipwright, Den enjoyed endless, free materials from the wrecks. By studying them, he kept up with the latest shipbuilding techniques of the surface world.
Moreover, many ships departing Fish-Man Island needed to be re-coated, and Den's skill in the craft was renowned—he never disappointed a client.
This time was no exception.
He had worked all through the night to finish coating a ship. Far from exhausted, he was positively exhilarated, slapping the thick bubble film with his strong arms. The membrane bounced back firmly—stable and elastic.
"I'll tell you, this was the fastest coating I've done since parting ways with my younger brother, Tom. Do you know who my brother Tom is? He's the one who built a ship for the Pirate King Roger—"
But one of the so-called "Supernovas," "Mad Monk" Urouge, had no intention of listening to his boasting.
Towering like an iron pillar, Urouge circled the newly coated ship with a grin on his face.
He hailed from Skypiea, with a pair of white wings sprouting from his back. They could not grant flight, serving more as insulation, courtship display, or decoration.
Clad in a cloak, with a strand of red prayer beads around his neck, he looked every bit the image of a monk.
But unlike a monk's compassion, he had chosen the path of plunder and violence.
That was the origin of his epithet—"Mad Monk."
He walked the full circuit around his pirate ship, smiling all the while.
By the time he returned to his crew—men garbed in similar monk-like attire—Den was still rambling on.
"In short, I finished this coating in record time!" Den floated toward them, his tailfin passing through the ring-shaped bubble, grinning from ear to ear. "Now, according to our agreement, you should pay me triple the usual price. That comes to a total of—"
Boom!
Without warning, Urouge's arm lashed out, sending Den flying. The craftsman smashed against the wreckage piled in the Sea Forest.
Dazed, bloodied, pain wracking his body, Den struggled to comprehend what had just happened.
"What was that you said?" Urouge drew back his arm, pressing it mockingly to his ear as if it were a giant listening horn. "I thought I heard something about 'triple the price.' Hah… that doesn't sound too pleasant."
His pirate monks burst into laughter. They had expected this outcome from the start.
Den dragged himself up from the debris, his tailfin bubble burst, his body bloodied.
Furious, he shouted, "You… you're going back on our agreement? You begged me to—"
"You have a brother who once built a ship for the Pirate King, and you still don't know what pirates are like?" Urouge sneered, towering over him. "We never pay."
"You… tricked me…" Den tried to rise, but one of his bones felt broken; he could hardly move.
"Welcome to the world of pirates," Urouge said, spreading his arms, still smiling. "Don't worry. Since you worked hard to coat my ship, I won't kill you."
"You bastards! By the Dragon Palace… I curse you! You won't live long in the New World!"
Urouge turned away, ignoring Den's curses.
"Enough. The coating is done," he told his crew. "Get ready—we set out immediately."
"Yes, Sōujōu!" his men answered. They never called him "captain," but instead used the monk's title, "Sōujōu"—the rank of administrator over monks and temples.
As they filed aboard the coated ship, Urouge sneered.
I wonder if the other Supernovas have already departed? If I can be the first to leave Fish-Man Island, I'll seize the advantage. Maybe I can even ambush one of them on an island ahead and cut down my competition in the New World.
But as he was plotting his future, shouts erupted from his crew on the ship. Their voices trembled with panic, fear, and confusion.
"What are you wailing about…" Urouge turned impatiently—only to see a massive shadow fall across his ship. And then over him as well.
Another vessel loomed overhead, radiating an eerie green glow. Blackened and decayed, crusted with barnacles, starfish, and coral, it exuded a stench of rot, chaos, and dread.
How can a ship be floating above the Sea Forest? Wait—that ship—!
"Damn it…" Urouge's eyes went wide as recognition struck. But it was too late.
With a thunderous crash, the ship descended like a predator pouncing.
Its sharp prow pierced straight through the bubble film around Urouge's vessel, bursting it with ease. With a deafening impact, half of Urouge's pirate ship was crushed beneath its weight.
Caught unprepared, Urouge himself was pinned beneath it.
The spectral vessel—the Terror Ghost—was not yet satisfied. Its gaping bow opened like the jaws of a beast, sinking its fangs into Urouge's ship. With crunching bites, it devoured the shattered stern.
His crew screamed, clinging desperately to the tilted deck as the prow reared high into the air. Below them, only the gnashing maw of the Terror Ghost awaited.
Another explosion rocked the wreck. From beneath the black ship's hull, Urouge burst free—blood running down his forehead. His body had swollen to several times its original size.
Pinned beneath the ship, he had been forced to rely on his Devil Fruit ability: the more damage he suffered, the larger and stronger he became.
The more wounds he bore, the more his power swelled.
Urouge raised his eyes to the sight of his crew's despair. His smile remained, but it had twisted into something rigid, ice-cold.
He lunged to one side, seizing his massive weapon: an iron pillar, perfectly suited to his hands as a monk-warrior.
Gripping it in both hands, he wrenched it free from the seabed.
Turning back, ready to rescue his crew, he froze.
Someone had already appeared silently before him, making him flinch.
That face—there was no mistaking it.
It was the master of the Terror Ghost, the man whose new bounty posters had spread everywhere yesterday—straight into Urouge's own hands.
Davy Jones.
He stood before Urouge, fingers stroking the restless tendrils of his beard, cold gray-blue eyes fixed on him.
"Gigantification… yet the wounds remain."
He's seen through my ability! Urouge narrowed his eyes.
I can't wait. I have to strike first!
Please drop some power stones support me at my
PS: Access the complete/finished chapters/series at Patreon: NanamiTL