Blood steamed on the stones.
Jin stood atop a hill of corpses, his blade dripping crimson, his violet eyes blazing red at the edges. Below him, rivers of gore snaked between shattered huts and broken weapons, the entire island drowned in silence. Not even the gulls dared circle overhead.
"Ahahahahaha…" His laughter rolled like thunder, wild and unrestrained. He tilted his head back, arms spread wide, laughing at the sky itself. "Do you see it? This is what your monsters deserve!"
Three pirate dens—hundreds of killers, raiders, marauders—reduced to silence in a single night.
The men he slaughtered had been wolves, not sheep. For decades, this island had served as their den. They plundered merchant ships, butchered every soul aboard, raped women until their voices broke, then slit their throats for sport. The old, the weak, the children—never spared. Even their own aged crew were culled like cattle, replaced with young recruits. On this island there were no innocents. No softness. No humanity.
To Jin, that made them perfect.
The massacre wasn't senseless. It was cultivation. His Blood Hell bloomed here, drinking the dying fear and rage of hundreds of butchers. Each death was a whetstone scraping against his Conqueror's Haki, refining it, sharpening it. He could feel his killing aura grow denser, more controlled.
He had left Kuina, Tina, Makino, and Kuma safely in a bustling port city. Alone, unburdened, he let loose the side of himself he kept caged. Tonight he had allowed the beast off its leash.
A fog of scarlet clung to his body, thick as breath on a winter morning. Within that haze voices whispered, echoes of the dying, fragments of laughter and screams that weren't his own.
The heavens seemed to notice.
The sky blackened without warning, clouds rushing in from every horizon. Lightning cracked across the canopy of night, but no rain fell. Wind tore at the trees, howling like the dead. The storm hovered only above him, as though the world itself recoiled.
Jin looked up, hair plastered to his face by the gale, blood mist swirling tighter around him. And he smiled.
"What's the matter?" he shouted into the thunder. "Afraid? You think you can judge me? I kill only those who earn death. These vermin, these beasts wearing men's faces—I'm your executioner. If even that offends you, then maybe you're not fit to be the sky above me."
His words cracked like steel on stone. For a moment, the storm paused, holding its breath. Then—
The clouds broke. A wall of rain slammed down, drenching corpses, quenching fires, washing blood into streams that carved paths to the sea.
Jin spat rainwater, flicking it from his lashes. He raised a middle finger skyward. "Tch. Coward."
And with a blur of motion, he vanished into the storm.
The hired skiff rocked gently at its mooring, hidden in a cove far from the slaughter. Its captain had been chewing his nails raw, ears straining for screams carried on the wind. When Jin finally reappeared, soaked but smiling faintly, the old sailor nearly collapsed with relief.
"By the gods—you're alive," the captain blurted. His voice shook. "I thought—"
"What?" Jin wrung water from his hair, droplets spattering the deck. "Thought I'd be buried under some drunk pirates? Please."
"N-no, of course not! I only worried for you!" the man babbled, eyes wide. The money had been too good to refuse, but now he regretted every coin.
Jin ignored him, stripping off his drenched shirt. Muscles rippled, unmarked by blade or bullet. Not a single wound marred him, though he'd stood against four hundred men. He pulled on a dry tunic from the cabin and collapsed into a chair, stretching like a man fresh from a bath.
"Tell me," Jin said lazily, "are there more like them? Pirates. Bandits. Dogs in need of culling."
The captain blinked. "More? There were… four hundred on that island. Entire crews, seasoned killers. You can't mean—"
"Already gone," Jin interrupted, eyes closing. "Their blood fed my blade. Now I want the next."
The sailor's knees gave out, and he dropped heavily to the deck. His lips worked soundlessly before a stammer tumbled out. "A-all dead? In three hours?"
Jin didn't bother opening his eyes. His tone was flat, factual. "Dead."
The captain stared, mind reeling. He had ferried smugglers, killers, bounty hunters. He'd heard tales of admirals leveling fleets, of pirates who split the sea. But this… this was something different. This man had murdered a city in the span of an evening and returned with his shirt cleaner than the deck beneath his boots.
Jin cracked an eye, bored with the man's trembling. "So? Where next?"
The captain swallowed hard, forcing his mind to work. "Th-there is one place. The capital isle of Bikakaya Kingdom. A rich trade hub, stuffed with merchants. But its garrison… is commanded by the king's uncle. General Tada Bishī. Since the king is still a boy, the uncle controls the army. They say he rules like a leech, draining the city, feeding on its people. His soldiers plunder at will. Those who speak vanish. He's a butcher, hidden behind a crown."
Jin's eyes snapped open. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
"A king's uncle, drunk on power. Surrounded by a loyal army. Using soldiers as wolves instead of shields. Hah. Now that…" His hand curled into a fist, knuckles cracking. "That sounds worth my time."
The Blood Hell inside him stirred, answering his call. His veins thrummed, violet eyes darkening until nearly black.
"General Tada Bishī," Jin said softly, savoring the name like a blade's edge. "Let's see how long your borrowed throne lasts."
That night, as the ship drifted through calmer waters, Jin sat alone on the stern. The rain had passed, leaving the sky clear, stars sharp against the dark. For the first time since the massacre, silence returned.
And in that silence, another face rose in his thoughts.
Makino.
He remembered the tremble of her waist beneath his hand, the scent of her hair, the startled gasp when he teased her. He remembered the flush of her cheeks, the way she fled, flustered and radiant.
His eyes softened, the bloody haze ebbing. He leaned back, staring at the moon's reflection rippling across the sea.
"Makino… you'd hate this side of me," he murmured. "The butcher. The beast." His fingers tightened on the railing. "But for you—for all of you—I'll carry it. I'll paint the seas red so you can walk them safe."
For a moment, he let himself imagine returning to her arms. Her warmth, her laughter. The way her presence eased the weight he carried. The storm inside him stilled, if only briefly.
Then he exhaled, eyes sharpening once more. "But not yet. Not until the world knows my blade."
At dawn, Bikakaya's spires rose on the horizon, gilded by the sun. Trade sails cluttered the port, their masts like a forest, wealth spilling across the docks. Soldiers patrolled in polished armor, banners snapping in the wind. On the surface, it looked like prosperity.
But Jin could already taste the rot beneath the gold.
And for the first time in years, his lips curved in something other than mockery. A true, feral grin.
"The slaughter has only just begun."
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T/N :
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