Tone matters.
Sometimes, the difference between a question and a statement is nothing more than a question mark or a period.
But that tiny difference changes everything.
If Morin's earlier words had been phrased as a question-
"Then why don't we just deal with this?"-
it would have sounded like discussion between equals.
But with a period-
"Then let's deal with this."-
it became calm, condescending, and unmistakably directive.
And that was exactly what it was.
"...I don't know whether you were the one who killed the Kraken," Davy Jones said, his face darkening,
"but you certainly talk big."
How an octopus face managed to darken was anyone's guess.
"Tell me," he continued,
"what's your relationship with Calypso? Why would she summon the Kraken to deal with you?"
After Jack mentioned that Morin had handled the Kraken, Davy Jones' thoughts spiraled.
Emotionally unstable didn't mean stupid.
Calypso summoned the Kraken.
Morin defeated the Kraken.
Morin was also absurdly handsome.
The conclusion came naturally.
"Don't misunderstand," Morin said, curling his lips slightly.
"I'm not interested in her. I'm picky."
"We just had a conflict."
"Back to business," he continued evenly.
"Now that Jack works for me, his soul no longer belongs to you."
"So cancel the contract."
"...Of course," Davy Jones replied.
"One hundred human souls-or your own-would nullify it."
"Did I not make myself clear?" Morin said calmly.
"I'm telling you to cancel it."
"That was a statement. Not a question."
"You're arrogant," Davy Jones said.
"But I don't see the capital to support it."
"It's simple," Morin replied, walking toward the edge of the ship.
"Your confidence comes from three things."
"Your ship. Your immortality."
"And that pet of yours whose relative I just slaughtered."
He lifted his hand slightly and pointed toward the sea.
"So I'll just remove your confidence."
A shard of ice, no larger than a finger, formed on the ocean's surface.
Then it expanded.
Violently.
In seconds, the Kraken's tentacle-just emerging from the water-froze solid.
The ice spread outward.
Within five seconds, everything within a thousand meters was frozen.
The Kraken couldn't move.
Neither could the Flying Dutchman.
A ship could sail underwater.
It couldn't sail through a glacier.
Davy Jones wasn't Calypso.
He had no authority over such magic.
Casting magic didn't require touch.
When Morin had done this before, touching the sea had been purely aesthetic.
It looked better.
A pale hand brushing the water.
The ocean freezing instantly.
Style mattered.
Jumping in would've been crude.
At this point, Morin didn't even need to think about these details.
"I agree," Davy Jones said suddenly.
Morin paused.
"...That was unexpectedly sensible," he said.
"Aren't you supposed to refuse?"
Jack finally stepped out from behind Morin, swaying slightly and wagging his pinky.
"Shouldn't you resist a little?"
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Davy Jones rolled his eyes.
Seeing an octopus do that was strangely amusing.
"So where's the contract?" Morin asked.
"What contract?" Davy Jones froze.
"We don't have one."
Morin turned to Jack.
"Well... seems we don't," Jack said after thinking.
"So it was verbal?" Morin asked.
"Yeah," both answered simultaneously.
Morin fell silent.
"...You don't even use magic contracts?"
"No soul binding?"
"How are you this unprofessional?"
Then he paused and looked at Davy Jones.
"Wait. You don't know how to make magic contracts?"
"No," Davy Jones' tentacles twitched.
"I never needed them."
"No one breaks promises to me."
"When the time comes, I just send men to leave a magic mark."
"...," Morin pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I'm tired."
"Leave," Morin said, melting the ice.
"And don't try anything."
"This can't kill the Kraken."
"If you don't want to lose more than a crewman you weren't getting anyway-"
Davy Jones said nothing.
Based on what he'd seen, fighting meant death.
And to his credit, Davy Jones valued survival.
Without another word, he ordered the Flying Dutchman to submerge and leave.
Morin and Jack weren't surprised.
The Royal Navy soldiers were.
Some of them nearly collapsed.
To them, this wasn't a battle.
It was a sea legend unfolding in front of their eyes.
A legend that fled.
"Hit me," Royal Navy Elite One whispered.
"What?"
"Hit me."
"...Okay."
Morin's voice cut through them.
"Prepare to set sail."
"Actually," he added,
"clean yourselves and the ship first."
Hands trembling, the soldiers obeyed.
If what they'd seen was real-
Then Morin was something beyond comprehension.
A god?
Suddenly, they remembered the lightning from that day.
Understanding dawned.
Their fear turned into reverence.
After Davy Jones left, a water figure emerged on the Black Pearl.
The soldiers didn't react.
Compared to what they'd seen, this barely registered.
"The terms remain the same," Morin said without turning.
"I give you Barbossa's body."
"I help you if they fail to unseal you."
"In return, you teach me all magical knowledge and information about other gods."
"Agreed," the water man said.
"Come to my jungle."
"I can only form a magic contract in person."
"Jack has my compass."
"Okay," Morin nodded.
The water man vanished.
Jack already had the compass out.
The needle shifted.
The ship turned.
"Jack," Morin said,
"can I borrow that compass?"
"Just to look."
Jack handed it over without hesitation.
The compass was legendary.
Pointing not north-
But toward what the holder desired most.
Morin opened it.
A mental probing magic immediately activated.
It hit his mental defenses.
And stopped.
Firewall held.
"This thing probes desire directly," Morin thought.
He lowered his defenses slightly, isolating a temporary mental zone.
"I want to find Jack Sparrow."
The probe returned.
The needle turned.
Stopped.
Pointed at Jack.
Accurate.
He changed the thought.
"I want to find the Sword of Eden."
The needle spun wildly.
Morin took the sword out.
The needle snapped into place.
"So it can't detect system space," he concluded.
His body flickered.
He appeared briefly in another world.
"I want to find Bruce Wayne."
The needle moved.
Pointed south.
"...Did it turn into a normal compass?"
He returned instantly.
To observers, he'd never left.
He tried again.
The needle spun.
"It can't detect other worlds either."
Useless-unless he could replicate it.
"And since it came from Tia Dalma..."
Morin closed the compass and handed it back.
"I'm resting," he said.
"Call me when we're close."
"No food."
He entered the cabin.
Then vanished.
Sailing was boring.
And he had worlds to open.
Before dealing with a god-
He wanted more power.
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