Chapter 39: The Shadows Fall

The clash of steel echoed through the upper levels of the mansion.

Brook parried a devastating overhead strike from the zombie samurai, Ryuma, his skeletal knees buckling slightly under the sheer force.

Ryuma possessed Brook’s stolen shadow, meaning the undead warrior possessed every single one of the musician’s techniques, and a much stronger physical body to execute them with.

“It is useless, my afro-sporting friend,” Ryuma laughed, his voice a distorted echo of Brook’s own.

“I know every step you will take before you even lift your boot!”

Ryuma lunged, his blade a blur.

Brook barely deflected it, pushed back against the stone wall.

Ryuma was right.

Every feint, every parry, every thrust, the zombie anticipated it perfectly.

But Ryuma couldn’t anticipate the shadows of the room itself.

From the darkness beneath a rotting tapestry, the Night-Terror Ferret materialized.

The jade beast’s red eyes narrowed.

It didn’t attack Ryuma directly.

Instead, it melted into the floor, manipulating the ambient darkness of the room.

As Ryuma stepped forward for a finishing blow, the Ferret surged, its liquid-jade form latching directly onto the zombie’s elongated shadow, pinning it to the stone floor with absolute, supernatural force.

Ryuma’s body violently jerked to a halt, physically anchored by his own shadow.

The zombie’s eyes widened in shock.

“What is this trickery?!”

“A gift from my new captain,” Brook stated, his tone dropping its usual joviality, replaced by the deadly calm of a seasoned swordsman.

Brook stepped forward, moving faster than the eye could track.

He smoothly sheathed his cane-sword.

“Hanauta Sancho: Yahazu Giri.” (Three-Verse Humming: Arrow-Notch Slash).

Brook walked past the frozen samurai, the click of his boots echoing in the quiet room.

A second later, a deep, freezing cut manifested across Ryuma’s chest, bursting with ethereal blue flames.

The zombie stumbled, dropping to his knees.

As the purifying fire began to burn his artificial life away, the stolen shadow detached from his feet, zipping across the floor and seamlessly reattaching to Brook’s shoes.

Ryuma looked down at his blade, a faint smile of genuine respect crossing his rotting face.

“A fine duel.

It shames me that this body could not bring out this sword’s true potential.

Take it.”

Ryuma tossed the legendary black blade, Shusui, onto the floor before completely combusting into ash.

Brook looked at the magnificent weapon, then to the Ferret, who chittered proudly.

“A black blade,” Brook mused, picking up the sword.

“Victor-san is a swordsman.

I believe he will find this quite suitable.

Shall we rejoin the others, my furry friend?”

(Victor POV)

I kicked the heavy oak doors of the main mast tower completely off their hinges.

The Warlord’s chambers were massive, resembling the inside of a gothic cathedral.

Sitting on a massive throne at the far end of the room was Gecko Moria, his bulbous, pale face twisted into an expression of absolute, murderous rage.

“You!” Moria roared, his voice shaking the stained glass windows.

“You destroy my courtyard!

You decimate my lead scientist!

Do you have any idea how much time you have cost me, Beastmaster?!”

I didn’t answer.

I just looked at him, my expression dead.

I gently shifted the sleeping Nico Robin into Gammamon’s arms.

“Keep her safe, Gammamon,” I told the digimon.

“Don’t let anything touch her.”

Gammamon nodded, wrapping his arms carefully around her and stepping back into the corridor.

Moria stood up, his massive shadow writhing on the floor behind him.

“You think you can just walk into Thriller Bark and leave with my property?!

I’ll take your shadows!

I’ll take your dinosaur!

I’ll build a new army from your corpses!”

Moria raised his arms.

He didn’t bother testing my strength.

He could feel the suffocating atmospheric pressure rolling off my body.

“Shadow Asgard!” The island trembled.

From the forests, the graveyards, and the mansion below, a thousand stolen shadows ripped themselves away from their zombie hosts.

They flew up into the tower like a swarm of black locusts, plunging directly into Moria’s mouth.

The Warlord’s body began to rapidly, grotesquely inflate.

His muscles bulged, his skin turned a sickly, veins-popping purple, and his sheer size easily eclipsed the height of a giant.

He smashed his fists together, the impact creating a shockwave that shattered the windows.

“I am a Warlord of the Sea!” Moria bellowed, his voice distorted by a thousand overlapping echoes.

“I am invincible!”

I reached down to my waist and drew the Jade Wings.

The twin daggers gleamed in the dim light.

I didn’t waste time with words.

I began pumping massive, surging waves of kinetic energy directly into the hilts.

The weapons hummed violently, vibrating with contained power.

Moria threw a massive, house-sized fist down at me, aiming to crush me into paste.

I sidestepped, moving at supersonic speed.

I swung my right arm, channeling my Fa-Jin into the weapon.

The chain connecting the daggers infinitely extended, shooting the left blade forward like a harpoon.

It whipped around Moria’s massive, descending wrist, binding it tight.

I swung my left arm, sending the other dagger wrapping around his massive neck.

“What is this?!” Moria choked, trying to rip the chains off, but the kinetically charged metal refused to yield.

I pulled the chain’s taut, using his own massive bulk as an anchor, and launched myself high into the air, rocketing straight toward his chest.

As I flew, I willed the Jade Wings to shape-shift.

The small daggers at the end of the chains violently expanded, locking into heavy, executioner-style cleavers that dug painfully into Moria’s flesh, completely immobilizing him.

I pulled my right arm back, generating a localized epicenter of pure kinetic force in my fist.

I didn’t punch him.

I hit him with the blunt-force equivalent of a falling meteor.

I slammed my kinetically charged fist point-blank into Moria’s grotesquely swollen stomach.

The shockwave was apocalyptic.

The air shattered.

The impact cratered his flesh inward, sending a concussive ripple of pure trauma directly through his internal organs.

Moria’s eyes practically popped out of his skull.

The blunt-force trauma was so overwhelming that his body violently rejected the power he had consumed.

He unhinged his jaw and vomited.

A massive, roaring geyser of a thousand black shadows erupted from his mouth, rocketing out of the shattered windows and streaking across the sky to return to their rightful owners all over the world.

Moria rapidly deflated back to his normal, bulbous size, his eyes rolling back in his head.

I landed gracefully on the stone floor.

As Moria slumped forward, completely unconscious, I pivoted and delivered one final, kinetically charged kick directly to his jaw.

The Warlord launched upward, crashing through the ceiling of the chamber and obliterating the central mast of Thriller Bark in a shower of splintered wood and stone.

He fell back down, crashing into the rubble, out cold.

“Well,” Brook’s voice echoed from the doorway.

“That was certainly decisive!

Yohohoho!”

I turned to see Brook walking in, his shadow firmly attached to his feet.

He bowed deeply, holding out a magnificent black blade with a crossguard shaped like a flower.

“Ryuma was an honorable opponent, Victor-san,” Brook said.

“He left this for you.”

I took Shusui, feeling the incredible balance and weight of the legendary sword.

“Thank you, Brook.

Help me drag this idiot down to his own dungeon.

We have a vault to find.”

We spent the next few hours cleaning the house.

Moria and the paralyzed, broken form of Dr.

Hogback were unceremoniously tossed into the deepest, darkest holding cell in Thriller Bark’s basement, the iron doors welded shut by Gammamon’s fire.

With the threat neutralized, I expanded my Observation Haki, sweeping the island for the real prize.

I found it buried beneath the old chapel.

We blew the heavy vault doors off their hinges and walked into a literal mountain of hoarded pirate gold, jewels, and priceless artifacts.

Moria had been collecting the wealth of thousands of crews for years.

It was more than enough to cover Iceburg’s two billion Berri quote, with plenty left over to fund our travels for a decade.

Leaving Brook to start bagging the gold, I walked out into the dead forest surrounding the mansion.

I tracked down a large group of pirates who were currently celebrating the return of their shadows.

At their center was a large woman in a wedding dress, Lola the Boar.

“Excuse me,” I said, stepping into the clearing.

The pirates drew their weapons, but Lola raised a hand, stopping them.

She looked at me, realizing who had just liberated the island.

“You’re the one who beat Moria,” Lola said, her voice filled with awe.

“I am,” I nodded, taking a seat on a fallen log.

“I also know you’re not from Paradise, Lola.

I know who your mother is.”

Lola flinched, her crew looking terrified.

“You…

you know about Big Mom?

Are you going to hand me over to her?

Or kill me for a bounty?”

“Neither,” I said casually, offering her a calm smile.

“I don’t judge people based on their bloodline.

You wanted freedom, so you ran.

I respect that.

Just wanted to make sure you and your crew had a safe route out of the Triangle now that you have your shadows back.”

Lola stared at me, completely overwhelmed by the casual respect.

She burst into tears, rushing forward and wrapping me in a massive, bone-crushing hug.

We spent the next hour talking, sharing a drink with her crew.

By the time they were ready to pack up their ship, she practically forced a piece of torn paper into my hand.

“It’s my mother’s Vivre Card,” Lola sniffled, wiping her nose.

“If you ever go to the New World, Victor, show this to her crew!

They’ll know you’re a friend of the Rolling Pirates!”

I tucked the paper into my coat, thanking her as her crew departed.

A Yonko’s Vivre Card, acquired entirely by accident.

I decided we would stay on Thriller Bark for three days.

The island was secure, and I wanted Robin to have a stable, quiet environment to heal properly without the violent rocking of the ocean.

On the second day, while taking inventory of the castle, I realized someone was missing.

The invisible man, Absalom.

I tracked down Perona.

The Ghost Princess was hiding in a supply closet, terrified out of her mind now that Moria was defeated.

When I opened the door, she shrieked, clutching her umbrella.

“Don’t kill me!” Perona cried.

“I surrender!”

“I’m not going to kill you,” I sighed.

“Where is Absalom?”

“He took a ship!” Perona babbled frantically.

“He went on a supply run to the Underworld black market right before you arrived!

He’s not here!”

“Good to know,” I noted.

I looked at the trembling gothic girl.

“So, Moria is in a cell, Hogback is broken, and Absalom abandoned you.

You’re out of a job and a home.”

Perona sniffled, looking down.

“I guess so.”

“You want to come with us?”

Perona blinked her massive, round eyes, staring at me in utter disbelief.

“What?”

“We’re putting a crew together,” I said.

“You have excellent reconnaissance abilities, you can fly, and Gammamon thinks your ghosts are funny.

The pay is good, and you won’t have to live on a rotting island anymore.

Pack your bags.

We leave tomorrow.”

I closed the closet door, leaving her completely baffled.

Ten minutes later, she was furiously packing her gothic dresses into a suitcase, thoroughly confused as to how she had just been recruited by the man who destroyed her boss, but too afraid of being left alone to argue.

On the evening of the third day, it was finally time to leave.

Because Franky’s pontoon carriage was nowhere near big enough to hold the staggering amount of treasure we had looted, I found a small, sturdy, intact galleon in the docks.

I used heavy iron chains to physically hitch the galleon to the back of the pontoon carriage, effectively creating a massive, floating caravan.

The Glacial-Inferno Sovereign stood on the frozen water, unbothered by the extra weight, ready to pull us back into the sunlight.

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was quiet and warm.

Brook was humming a soft melody while cleaning his violin, and Gammamon was asleep on a pile of cushions.

I sat near the reinforced window, watching the dark fog of the Triangle swirl outside.

From the heavy velvet bed in the corner of the cabin, there was a soft rustle of blankets.

I turned my head.

Nico Robin’s solitary blue eye slowly fluttered open.

The heavy swelling was completely gone.

The horrific surgical lines had faded into faint, smooth scars.

The healing had done its job perfectly, her body was whole, stabilized, and free of pain.

She looked around the strange, warm cabin, her gaze finally landing on me.

“Morning,” I said quietly, offering a gentle smile.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Word Count: 2148

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