Chapter 21: Stolen Time
Elegance, politeness—these were merely the camouflage Valentine meticulously draped over himself.
He didn't care a whit about the lives of his crew; the only calculation in his mind was how to achieve his own goals.
Up until this point, everything had gone according to his expectations. He didn't believe anything was out of his control.
That was why, whether it was Nereus appearing before him or his crew being slaughtered, Valentine had remained relaxed.
But when Valentine dragged Nereus into the water, the situation began to spiral out of his control, giving rise to a terrible feeling in his gut.
"Impossible! This is absolutely impossible! Devil Fruit users are hated by the sea! No matter how strong the user is, being fully submerged in the ocean should drain all their strength!
Fake! It's all fake! Yes... that's right... Vampires can hypnotize people. I must be under your illusion... As long as I break free from your hypnosis, the victor will still be me!"
The expression on Valentine's face gradually shifted from his initial composure to a state bordering on madness.
Sweat seeped from his forehead and slid down his face. The surrounding seawater no longer felt cool and comfortable; instead, it turned into a bone-chilling cold.
The sensation of losing control made Valentine feel sick. He could only force himself to calm the panic in his heart through this constant self-persuasion.
If Nereus, as a Devil Fruit user, truly didn't fear the curse of the sea...
Then, as a human knowing full well his opponent was a Fish-man, voluntarily shifting the battlefield to the depths of the ocean was an act so stupid that words failed to describe it.
Thud!
Thud!
Valentine swung his fists hard, smashing them into his own face, as if trying to use pain to forcibly wake himself from this "hypnotic illusion."
This utter loss of composure made Nereus completely lose interest in him.
"What's wrong? Has your brain lost the ability to think just because you witnessed something beyond your comprehension? Can you no longer believe in reality?"
Nereus didn't make any exaggerated movements. He simply raised his arm casually and firmly grabbed Valentine by the throat.
"I am a Fish-man. The natural talent granted by my subspecies allows me to naturally generate a special film on the surface of my body, isolating me from the effects of the seawater.
You claimed to admire me, yet you didn't even investigate this?"
Nereus even felt that Valentine's behavior qualified him as a "fake fan"—he wasn't even as dedicated as those sasaengs.
After all, when those people went crazy, they could actually dig up some real secrets.
Every Fish-man had abilities specific to their subspecies. Although many Fish-men didn't show obvious special traits other than breathing underwater and having great strength, those with special abilities could utilize these innate physiological functions.
Nanamo could release strong acid. Nereus himself could use this skin-tight mucus membrane to form a special protective layer, maintaining his combat power even underwater.
Moreover, this film wasn't like the artificial resin bubble coating that easily popped in battle.
As long as Nereus was alive and had stamina, he could continuously replenish and repair this film. It was as reliable as a second skin, sufficient to sustain high-intensity combat.
And the stamina consumption for this ability was as negligible to Nereus as breathing.
For an ordinary Fish-man, this ability meant little. But for a Devil Fruit user like Nereus, it had a singular, critical purpose.
"Fake... it's all fake! How could there be such a huge flaw in my carefully planned scheme... Cough, cough... What... exactly... is happening..."
Valentine suddenly realized that the strength in his body was draining away at an alarming rate. His entire body began to turn stiff and numb; his legs and feet stopped listening to his brain's commands.
His exquisitely tailored suit now hung loosely on his frame, looking baggy and oversized.
After being thoroughly soaked by the cold seawater, and accompanied by Valentine's weak struggles, his sleeves slid down, completely exposing his arms.
Although Valentine wasn't a muscle-bound hulk, he had possessed a lean and strong physique. But at this moment, his arms were as withered as rotting wood.
His muscles had atrophied, and his skin had become loose and covered in wrinkles, as if he had aged decades in an instant.
"Didn't you say it yourself earlier? My Devil Fruit can steal the lifespan of others.
I'll be taking your lifespan. I've left you about five minutes. No need to thank me; spend it savoring the final moments of your life."
Stealing lifespan through physical contact was the most basic ability of this Devil Fruit. As long as the user wasn't total trash, they could master this power the moment they ate it.
In the original timeline, Patrick Redfield used this fruit to steal others' lifespans to restore his youth.
If the user wished, they could even return the stolen time.
Nereus had eaten this fruit a long time ago, so he was incredibly proficient in using this basic ability.
Moreover, for Nereus, stealing lifespan and sucking blood were two completely different things. A person as extremely self-centered as Valentine didn't even give Nereus the urge to drink his blood.
Someone like Valentine, who fell apart the moment things went beyond his estimation, inevitably had weak Haki. He couldn't resist Nereus draining his life at all.
"No... my youth... my ambition... How can it... just disappear like this..."
A tide of intense unwillingness and despair flooded his heart. Valentine used the last shred of his strength to struggle in the seawater.
However, this body, stripped of its time by Nereus, could no longer support any effective resistance.
As a wave washed over him, cold seawater choked Valentine's already weakened lungs. He couldn't control the urge to cough the water out violently, but the act of coughing only caused him to inhale even more seawater.
A strong sensation of suffocation, mixed with the cold despair of impending death, completely shrouded Valentine's aged body.
Valentine's gaze gradually became unfocused and dim. He watched helplessly as the sea surface above—the symbol of life—drifted further and further away from him.
In his final moments, he could only reach out his trembling hand toward the light above.
That distance, which was once within arm's reach, had now become a chasm as vast as the sky.
Valentine ultimately failed to surface again, remaining forever in the deep, cold depths of the West Blue.
Only the empty ship of the Valentine Pirates remained floating above, a testament that such a pirate crew had once existed in this world.