Across the vast ocean, six pirate ships bearing the flag of the Whitebeard Pirates surged forward at full speed.
"Damn it, someone actually dared to attack Whitebeard's hometown!"
A furious voice cut through the wind.
At the front stood a tall, burly man with a receding hairline, a cigar clenched between his teeth. His arms were crossed, his expression dark with rage as he stared ahead.
This was Fossa, commander of the 15th Division of the Whitebeard Pirates.
"It must be some brainless crew that doesn't know who they're dealing with. Are they blind? Couldn't they see Whitebeard's flag flying over that island?"
He exhaled smoke sharply, his gaze turning colder.
"Or maybe… they did see it."
His voice dropped, thick with killing intent.
"Then they're asking to die."
Fossa's mustache twitched as his anger flared. His voice rose, filled with fury.
"Have we been too quiet lately? Have these fools already forgotten what happened half a year ago when we clashed with the Marines? Just because Pops has been recovering, they think they can step in and replace us?"
"Idiots!"
A suffocating killing intent burst from him.
Behind him, the crew roared in response, weapons raised high.
"Kill them all!"
"Anyone who insults Whitebeard's name dies!"
"We'll wipe them out to the last man!"
Their voices thundered across the sea, sending fish scattering beneath the waves.
Even massive sea beasts stayed hidden in the depths, unwilling to surface.
"Report! We're approaching the island, but the fog is too thick. Visibility is almost zero!"
The lookout's voice rang out from above.
"Good. We got here fast."
Fossa's eyes gleamed with a sharp, bloodthirsty light. He unsheathed his sword and raised it high.
"Listen up! We're the first to arrive. That means we get the honor of wiping them out. Anyone who dares insult the Whitebeard Pirates pays with their life!"
He swung his blade forward.
"Leave no survivors!"
"Kill!!!"
Six ships surged into the dense gray fog, heading toward the faint silhouette of the island ahead.
The deeper they went, the heavier the fog became.
Fossa glanced behind him, frowning.
Even with Observation Haki, he could barely sense the other ships anymore.
"This fog…"
Something felt off.
He grabbed a Den Den Mushi and spoke into it.
"All ships, slow down. Stay alert and keep your distance. Don't crash into each other."
"Received! Captain, we— bzzt… crackle— visibility is low…"
"We've lit the lamps but still can't— zzzt…"
"Captain, we can't locate— crrk…"
The transmission dissolved into static.
Fossa's grip tightened.
"Interference?"
A bad feeling crept into his chest.
"Hello? Repeat that. I can't hear you!"
Silence.
No matter how many times he called, the Den Den Mushi gave no response.
Fossa dropped it without hesitation.
"Everyone, stay sharp!"
The crew immediately tightened formation, standing back-to-back, weapons ready as they scanned the mist.
Fossa's voice lowered.
"We've walked into something… this isn't normal."
His mind raced.
The attack on Whitebeard's homeland.
The unnatural fog.
The sudden loss of communication.
"This is a setup."
His expression hardened.
"A trap."
What unsettled him most was the silence.
His voice should have carried across the sea to the other ships.
But now…
Nothing.
No replies. No echoes.
Only the thick, suffocating fog.
"This isn't natural."
The crew remained tense, eyes darting in every direction.
Time passed.
Nothing happened.
The ship continued forward without incident.
One of the pirates finally lowered his weapon, forcing a laugh.
"Captain… maybe we're overthinking this…"
Fossa turned sharply, his gaze cold.
"Don't let your guard down. The enemy could—"
He stopped.
Something moved.
From within the fog, dozens of black figures burst forward all at once.
"Enemy attack!"
Too late.
Puff! Puff! Puff!
Several pirates were struck before they could react.
Sharp, bone-like spikes pierced through skulls, throats, and chests in an instant.
Blood sprayed across the deck.
The smell of iron filled the air.
"What the hell are these things?!"
Those who managed to block the attacks recoiled in horror as they saw their enemies clearly.
They were twisted humanoid creatures.
Their bodies were covered in jagged, trembling bone spines. Their clothes hung in tatters. Their mouths were filled with swollen, rotten pustules, and their hands were webbed like Fish-Men. Patches of coarse fur clung to their skin in uneven clumps.
They barely looked human anymore.
The creatures opened their diseased mouths, releasing a foul stench as they hissed.
"Money… so much money…"
"Food… the best food…"
Their voices were broken, greedy, and inhuman.
Then they lunged again.
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