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Chapter 92: The Invaders
"You mean to tell me... the one living in the castle is that damned old hag?!"
A vicious light, mixing fear and loathing, instantly flashed through Wapol's eyes—which were squeezed so tight by fat they were barely slits.
Naturally, he knew who Dalton meant by "the only doctor on the island."
Dr. Kureha. That eccentric crone who was over a hundred years old, never gave a damn about him as King, and completely ignored his orders!
When he had fled Drum Island in a panic, he had taken almost every doctor with him. She was the only one he couldn't control—and didn't dare to try.
And now, she had the audacity to just move right into his castle!
"Preposterous... absolutely preposterous!"
Wapol trembled with rage, his flagon of fat shaking. His face turned an ugly shade of liver-purple, and his teeth ground together with a creak so loud it sounded like he was chewing on steel.
"That reckless old witch! How dare she?! How dare she live in the castle that belongs to me, the King!!"
He jerked his head up to look at the three Drum Rockies in the distance, his eyes bulging as he gritted his teeth.
"Men, get ready! Follow me! We're going to kick that old hag out!"
"Take back the castle that belongs to your great King Wapol—!!"
The nearly one hundred soldiers behind him hesitated for a split second before erupting into a ragged but loud cheer.
"To the castle!" "To the castle!"
Compared to a life of piracy—drifting on the treacherous seas, never knowing if they'd see tomorrow—returning to this familiar land to resume their lives as bullying royal soldiers was obviously much more comfortable.
Dalton's face remained as still as stagnant water as he watched them.
He tilted his head slightly, his peripheral vision sweeping over the townspeople behind him. Every face was etched with suppressed resentment and deep hatred.
These "deserters" who had abandoned their country and their people were now waltzing back just as the citizens saw a glimmer of hope in rebuilding their homes. They wanted to steal back the country the people had worked so hard to restore.
It was... shameless to the extreme!
Dalton understood the people's hearts perfectly. The hand gripping his weapon trembled with rage. He took a deep breath and addressed Wapol's group in a tone of absolute finality.
"Wapol! The moment you chose to abandon this country and the people who trusted you, you forfeited all rights and responsibilities as King! To those of us who stayed and held our ground, you are now nothing more than... invaders!"
"If you do not get the hell off Drum Island right now, then... I will remove you myself!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, a sudden change occurred.
Without warning, Dalton's body began to expand and distort rapidly. His upper body clothes were torn apart by bulging muscles, the fabric ripping with a loud shrrrk.
In the blink of an eye, the burly two-meter-tall man transformed into a towering four-to-five-meter minotaur-like beast, his muscles knotted and radiating raw, primal power!
Ox-Ox Fruit, Bison Form.
No one present was surprised by Dalton's ability. He was the former Captain of the Royal Guard of the Drum Kingdom, recognized as the kingdom's strongest warrior. Almost every soldier in Wapol's army had received training or guidance from him at some point.
"Oho! So you really intend to commit treason against your superior!"
Wapol stepped back, letting two of his top subordinates shield him. His piggy eyes narrowed at Dalton. There was no fear in his gaze, only the cunning glint of a plot succeeding.
He had been waiting for Dalton to say those exact words. Now, his soldiers could attack their former captain without any psychological burden.
"Men! Aim guns!"
He first barked the order to the hesitant soldiers behind him, then patted the shoulders of the two men in front of him.
"You two. Keep Dalton busy."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" x2
The two men responded in unison and stepped forward.
One pulled out a bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed at Dalton—clearly a marksman.
The other pulled two fuzz balls from his afro. The balls matched his hair color and crackled with static electricity.
These two were Chess and Kuromarimo. Along with Dalton, they were formerly known as the "Three Great Staff Officers" of the Drum Kingdom.
Thwip—!
An arrow tore through the air, aimed straight for Dalton's throat.
However, Dalton's seemingly bulky bison body displayed agility completely disproportionate to its size. With just a slight turn of his body, his hoof stomped a crater into the snow as he dodged the arrow with ease.
At that moment, Kuromarimo seized the opportunity to rush Dalton. Holding the static-charged fuzz balls, he let out a strange cry and smashed them toward Dalton's crossed arms!
Bam!
A dull thud echoed.
Relying on the robust physique of a Zoan-type user, Dalton steadily took the blow without moving an inch. But strangely, the two black fuzz balls seemed sticky—they adhered firmly to his forearms.
"Haha! You're finished, Dalton!"
Seeing this, Kuromarimo was overjoyed. He retreated several steps to avoid a counterattack, shouting to the archer behind him, "Do it now!"
Chess had already nocked another arrow. This one was different; the tip was ablaze. A special incendiary arrow!
"Fire!"
Almost simultaneously, to prevent Dalton from breaking free or fighting back, Wapol ordered his soldiers to volley fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang—!
Gunshots erupted like a sudden rainstorm. A wall of bullets poured toward Dalton.
Dalton intended to dodge, but he suddenly realized the townspeople were standing right behind him. If he moved, they would be hit.
He gritted his teeth, let out a low roar, and flexed his muscles even tighter, using his broad chest and arms to meet the metal storm head-on.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Bullets ruthlessly bored into his tough hide, tearing muscle and sending sprays of warm blood into the air.
In an instant, Dalton was bathed in blood. It trickled down his body, staining the snow beneath his feet a gruesome crimson. It looked horrific.
However, the physical enhancement provided by a Zoan-type fruit was absurdly high. Although his injuries looked grievous, they were mostly flesh wounds. They wouldn't stop him from fighting.
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