Davy Jones held the unfolded sea chart in both hands. One tentacle clutched Van Augur's slime-covered eyeball, while another slipped into his cloak and drew out a compass. He flipped open its black lid.
The compass needle spun wildly, wobbling in confusion before finally stabilizing—pointing in the exact same direction as the flashing black dot fleeing across the map.
Van Augur had been locked onto.
"Are the ships ready?" Davy Jones turned toward Marco, who waited quietly at his side.
"Captain Davy Jones, our ships are all prepared and docked at the harbor."
Marco said this, though even he felt uncertain.
The Whitebeard remnants had only ten ships left, half of which were hastily converted cargo vessels. More than half had been patched, repaired, and patched again.
Could a fleet like this really take the offensive?
Could they win a naval battle against the Blackbeard Pirates?
Davy Jones neither confirmed nor denied. The tendrils on his face wriggled thoughtfully.
"Marco, bring us to the harbor."
"Yes."
Marco led the way, guiding Davy Jones, Kuro, and Buggy.
Ace, Jozu, and Vista rallied the three hundred men, and the massive procession flowed toward the harbor like a landslide rumbling down a mountain.
The sheer movement of bodies startled the island's ordinary residents.
What's going on? Where are they all going? Are they going to war again?
The townspeople did not yet know the Whitebeard remnants had joined the Davy Jones Pirates.
Their faith in the remnants had long faded. The Whitebeard Pirates returned from every battle beaten and bloodied—losing, fighting again, losing again, never regaining their former glory.
Things were better when 'Old Man' Whitebeard was alive…
Back then, they were unstoppable. No Yonko, Shichibukai, or even the Navy dared trample on them.
The islanders watched the backs of the three hundred men disappear toward the harbor, heavy with worry.
Upon reaching the docks, Ace ordered everyone to scatter and load the ships with weapons, ammunition, food, water, and booze.
Ten ships sat side by side, each more battered than the last after months of uninterrupted warfare.
Davy Jones's gray-blue eyes swept over them one by one. Kuro adjusted his round glasses silently beside him.
Ace and Marco turned their heads away in embarrassment, unsure what to say.
Buggy, however, spoke his mind immediately:
"Half of these ships look ready to fall apart! Can they actually make it out to sea? Won't they just sink halfway?"
He was used to sailing in luxury; his ships were usually either newly built on Fishman Island or stolen from someone else. Compared to those, these ten ships were almost insulting.
The shabbiest vessel Buggy had ever stepped on was Terror Ghost—but that had only been its disguise. In reality, in terms of pure speed, almost nothing in the world could outrun it.
But these ships…
These were genuinely wrecked. Possibly even dangerous to sail.
"No, they won't sink, Buggy-san." Ace's freckled cheeks reddened. "They're sturdier than they look. I promise."
Buggy spread his gloved hands.
"Doesn't matter. With the Contract Mark, I'm no longer a 'land-drowning clown.' Even if the ship sinks, I can swim back up myself."
He said it casually—but it was a significant revelation.
Ace, Marco, Jozu, Vista exchanged meaningful looks.
But no one pressed the topic.
Davy Jones began speaking.
"If they sink into the sea, even better. That makes them safer."
Ace and Marco could not understand whether this was sarcasm or something else.
Davy Jones explained through action.
He stepped forward, raising both hands high.
Rumble—
Moments later, storm clouds rolled in like a legion obeying his command. Darkness fell over the entire port.
Pirates stared upward in shock.
Eerie, firefly-like green lights seeped from Davy Jones's palms, drifting toward the ten ships.
The lights settled over them like layers of crystalline frost, forming a thin green veil.
The ships began to sway—not just with the waves, but as if alive.
On deck, pirates scrambled for anything they could grab, afraid of being thrown off balance.
Some braver ones reached toward the green veil—but their fingers passed straight through it.
A cold wind swept in, carrying thick banks of white fog that wrapped the entire fleet in a shroud of mist.
The sight was unsettling, almost supernatural.
Ace, Marco, and the others froze in astonishment.
Davy Jones lowered his hands, paused, and commanded:
"Everyone—prepare to set sail."
He offered no explanation, simply walking toward Terror Ghost.
Kuro and Buggy followed close behind.
For most fleets planning a full-force departure, such weather would be the worst possible moment to sail.
But for Terror Ghost and this makeshift Whitebeard-Davy Jones fleet—
it was perfect.
Ace and Marco saw no hesitation in the trio. They looked at each other, made their decision.
"Brothers—prepare yourselves! We set sail immediately!"
——
"Soundless" Van Augur clutched his bleeding left eye with one hand and held his sniper rifle in the other. Drops of dark red pattered onto the snow, blooming like crimson plum blossoms.
He muttered curses under his breath, using the rifle butt to drive away two pirates who wanted to check on his injury. Then he slammed a shoulder into the door, kicking it open and letting the freezing wind spill inside.
Inside the hall, the Blackbeard Pirates and "Diamond" Diamante were still drinking. The gathering had not ended.
The blizzard gusted through the entrance, sweeping across the room.
"Devil Sheriff" Lafitte shivered and snapped,
"Who now? Why leave the door so wide open? Don't you know how cold it is—?"
But when he turned and saw Van Augur—saw the blood streaming relentlessly through the fingers pressed to his left eye—his complaint died instantly.
"What happened?"
Blackbeard Teach shot up from his seat, his huge body wobbling.
"Doc Q! Heal him, quickly!"
Wrapped in thick furs, looking as sickly as ever, Doc Q rose without rushing and silently approached Van Augur.
"Damn it!"
Van Augur finally removed his hand, revealing the bloody cavity and mangled flesh where his eye had been.
"It really was Davy Jones! That bastard octopus! Son of a—!"
Everyone stiffened.
Then they understood why he looked this way.
And silently, they felt fortunate.
If any of them had gone instead, they likely wouldn't have returned alive.
After all—even someone who could teleport like Van Augur had to pay with an eyeball.
The Deep-Sea King was truly terrifying.
Of course, some were amused.
"Heavy Drinker " Vasco hiccupped, wiped his red, monkey-like nose, and laughed foully.
"Look at that—our sniper's missing an eye! What kind of hellish joke is that? Hahaha—"
Van Augur's remaining eye glared with murderous fury, as if he could kill Vasco by sight alone.
A fight was moments from breaking out—
until Doc Q stepped between them, blocking Van Augur's view, and examined the wound with one raised finger.
"Hm… the left eye is definitely gone… hm… I need to clear out this rotting flesh quickly…
Otherwise your other eye will be beyond saving too."
"WHAT?!"
Van Augur's voice shot up several octaves. His eyes were a sniper's greatest treasure—if he lost the other, it would be a catastrophe beyond despair.
"Doc Q, are you joking?!"
"Idiot."
Doc Q gave him a sidelong glance, used to patients panicking at his diagnoses.
"One eye missing sends faulty signals to the brain. That can damage the one you still have."
He pushed Van Augur into a seat and began treatment.
"Don't move."
Van Augur gritted his teeth through the pain, cursing Davy Jones with every breath, swearing he would one day tear him apart.
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