"Kid, if you want to keep your head on your shoulders, don't move. Who sent you to kill me? And don't try to fool me with that 'I'm just a pirate' crap. I've met plenty of pirates, and pirates from the Abyss-Sea don't ambush people like you do."
Though Charles's words were flippant, the gaze behind his mask was icy cold.
"I... If I tell you, will you let me live?" Terror filled the eyes of the man Charles was threatening.
"I'll consider it."
"It was... it was..."
Just as Charles thought the man was about to talk, his neck suddenly shot forward, and an exceptionally sharp blade easily sliced off his head.
Scalding blood splattered all over Charles's mask, staining the bright white surface a vivid red.
Stunned for two seconds, Charles cursed under his breath, stood up, and turned to leave the cabin.
As his footsteps faded into the distance, the head on the floor slowly opened its eyes.
A smug grin tugged at its lips, looking disturbingly bizarre in the gloom of the cabin.
The head puckered its lips, flapped its ears, and began to slowly roll toward a nearby corpse.
"THUNK!" A black dagger slammed into the floor, blocking its path. The head turned, its expression one of terror, to find that the masked man who had just left had somehow returned. He was standing there, tilting his head and watching it.
"Since I knew you dabbled in the occult, of course I was going to take precautions," Charles said as he lunged forward and booted the head across the room. It bounced hard off the wall before rolling back to his feet.
"Still alive without your head, huh? Fine. I'll play with you for a bit. Looking at you now is giving me so many ideas! Tell me, if I toss you into a crucible and boil you, do you think you'll still be alive?" Charles stomped his foot down on the head.
"Sir, I was wrong, please don't boil me! I'll tell you everything..." The head's face was etched in misery. Suddenly, its right eye bulged and fell to the floor, and a tiny, curled-up man crawled out from the hollow socket.
At a glance, the little man resembled an underdeveloped infant. His body was pinkish and semi-transparent, bloated and malformed with twisted limbs—an unsettling sight.
Its voice was as thin as a mosquito's. It trembled as it prostrated itself on the floor, squeaking, "It was Priest Sonni! He told me to control your crew and ambush you. He sent me to kill you."
Beneath the mask, the corners of Charles's lips curled into an exaggerated smile. "So it was that brat. Fine. We have a grudge now."
"Mr. Charles! I'm innocent too! Sonni took over our island and forced me to work for him. I've told you everything—please, let me go!"
"Let you go? After you killed my men, you want me to let you go? Dream on."
The panicked little man seemed to remember something. He scrambled to his feet, frantically pointing to a cabinet in the corner and shouting, "There's a hidden compartment in there! It has the reward Sonni gave me. It's all yours—!"
"SPLAT." Charles's boot came down hard, and the little man's voice was cut off instantly.
"First, you claim you were forced, and now you're talking about a reward?" Charles wiped the sticky mess from the sole of his boot and strode toward the cabinet.
He moved the cabinet aside, revealing a keyhole in the floor. Charles slipped Black Blade into the keyhole, gave it a swift turn, and popped open the secret hatch.
Bars of gleaming gold were stacked neatly, filling the small space. By a rough estimate, it was at least several pounds' worth, a fortune on both the Earth's surface and in the Abyss-Sea.
"Tsk, tsk... So this is how much I'm worth? I didn't even know," Charles mused. He reached to pick up a bar, about to test it with his teeth, but his mask got in the way.
With a frustrated grunt, he stood up and headed for the stairs.
He had barely stepped out when he saw crew members about to head inside. The paper-thin attackers were now sprawled lifelessly on the floor; they had clearly been under the little man's control.
"What's our casualty count?" Char pulled off his mask.
Second Officer Keno didn't answer the question. Instead, he blurted out excitedly, "Captain! Sodoma has appeared!"
When they charged back up to the deck, the scene before them was utterly shocking.
A mountain formed by a heap of shipwrecked hulls rose before them, its slopes dotted with glimmers of fire. Shadows of people flickered across this "mountain," looking like ghosts in the dimness.
The "mountain" wasn't still—it drifted forward, slowly but inexorably. This was the pirate stronghold of the Abyss-Sea, Sodoma.
"Captain, Sodoma's here. Shall we go over?" the Second Officer asked Charles.
But Charles just stood there, silent. Confused, Krona reached out and gave his shoulder a light pat.
In that instant, it was as if she had flipped some kind of switch. Charles's wounds, thought to be healed, suddenly split open again. Crimson blood spurted several meters into the air.
Listening to the crew's shouts of alarm fade away, Charles's consciousness slipped into darkness.
When Charles regained consciousness, he realized he was no longer on the ship. He looked around; it was pitch-black. Suddenly, a light flickered below him. He saw a younger version of himself stranded on a wooden skiff, holding an oil lamp and fearfully scanning his surroundings.
That was when he had first come to this Abyss-Sea. Charles knew what was about to happen, and his breathing quickened.
At that moment, the young Charles leaned out, peering into the water. Deep in the pitch-black sea, a glowing green object the size of a ping-pong ball moved slowly.
The orb stopped, then suddenly shot upward at breakneck speed. In a flash, it grew immense, pressing tightly against the surface of the water as its eerie glow illuminated a huge swath of the ocean.
If the orb on the surface was the size of a soccer field, then young Charles was the soccer ball placed at its center.
A black dot appeared in the center of the green, glowing circle. That wasn't a ping-pong ball; it was the eye of some creature!
Under that gaze, Charles watched his younger self begin to mutate.
Wriggling tentacles, shuddering internal organs, a face contorted with fear and despair, sharp nails and teeth—all kinds of disgusting organs sprouted from his body in relentless waves.
Charles watched helplessly as his younger self turned into a repulsive, writhing mound of flesh.
An indescribable, overwhelming dread washed over Charles. He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't.
The eyeball in the water suddenly shifted, looking straight at Charles in the air. "It sees me! It sees me!!"
"Aaaahhh!!!" Charles shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat.
James, who had been dozing nearby, scrambled over, asking worriedly, "Captain? Are you alright?"
Regaining his composure, Charles glanced around. He was lying on a filthy wooden bed. Jars and bottles of all sorts cluttered the floor and tables. The air was filled with an intermingled stench of rot and medicinal herbs.
"Where is this?" Charles pulled open his shirt and found his wounds wrapped in bandages.
"Captain, we're in Sodoma," the burly man said as he poured a glass of water and handed it to him. "You nearly scared us to death back there. We thought you were a goner. Lucky for us, this place has a Doctor."