Vander Decken’s thoughts never strayed far from Princess Shirahoshi.

He spread open his right palm, as if the mermaid princess were already his to hold—trapped forever in his grasp, with no possibility of escape in this lifetime.

Yes… Princess Shirahoshi, you are mine. No matter what happens, you are mine…

His obsession with her had long since passed the bounds of reason. Vander Decken’s fixation was nothing short of deranged—borderline yandere.

As for the Flying Dutchman beneath his feet, he did not believe it could compare to the “Sea King” power Shirahoshi possessed.

When he first inherited the ship from Vander Decken VIII, he too had believed there was something special about it—something that had driven his ancestor to madness so easily.

But after studying it for more than a decade, he had concluded that it was nothing more than a rotten, worthless vessel.

Compared to the scene he had witnessed ten years ago—Princess Shirahoshi summoning an entire horde of Sea Kings—the ship was utterly insignificant.

If not for the fact that the Flying Dutchman was an heirloom passed down through generations, he would have already abandoned it for a new ship. He would never dream of placing it in the same league as Shirahoshi.

Still, once they were married, if Shirahoshi did not wish to live aboard this vessel, Vander Decken would gladly replace it.

After all, with the wealth of Ryugu Kingdom, and with Shirahoshi being so beloved, acquiring a splendid, majestic ship would be no trouble at all.

The giant fish-man Wadatsumi, however, paid little attention to his captain’s ramblings about their ancestors. To him, such stories went in one ear and out the other.

Instead, he worried about something else. In his childish voice, he asked:

“Hm? The anglerfish has been gone a long time, and still hasn’t returned? What happened to it?”

“That stupid fish probably caught some prey and is busy stuffing its face,” Vander Decken dismissed it without concern. “Once it’s eaten its fill, it’ll come back. Don’t bother about it.”

“Oh…” Wadatsumi nodded. Since his duty was to haul the ship, he couldn’t simply abandon his post to go searching.

“This time, Princess Shirahoshi is certain to reply to me,” Vander Decken declared confidently, hands on his hips, grinning to himself. “But I’ll need a clever plan to get her out of the Hard-Shell Tower.”

“Captain Vander Decken!” Wadatsumi raised his massive fists eagerly. “Let me smash that tower open with one punch!”

“You fool! What if your clumsy strength hurt Princess Shirahoshi?”

“Oh…” Wadatsumi lowered his arms sheepishly.

Vander Decken rubbed his chin with a webbed hand, falling into thought.

“Still, I hear that Jinbe’s been captured by the Navy, and the Whitebeard Pirates are tied up fighting them. This might actually be the perfect chance…”

“Captain.”

“Wadatsumi, don’t interrupt my train of thought.”

“But, Captain…”

“I said quiet!”

“…Oh.”

Wadatsumi fell silent.

Vander Decken pondered longer. But with only his ragtag Flying Pirates, breaking through Ryugu Kingdom’s defenses, defeating Neptune’s three princes and Neptune himself, seemed far too much of a stretch.

They would need an inside ally within Fish-Man Island.

His mind conjured up the image of a cruel, pale face. Vander Decken muttered aloud:

“Looks like I’ll have to ally with Hody Jones… with his New Fish-Man Pirates at my side, then we can…”

He broke off abruptly, his face shadowed.

Startled, Vander Decken raised his head. At some point, another ship had appeared above the Flying Dutchman, its vast shadow engulfing his vessel completely.

“What?!”

He froze in shock.

But on closer look, relief briefly washed over him. That ship was in even worse condition than the Flying Dutchman, its hull rotting, and it lacked any protective coating. Instead, it emitted only a strange, ghostly green glow.

So that’s all it was—just a wreck drifting in the deep.

For a moment, he had feared there was another ship in the world capable of sailing under the sea besides the Flying Dutchman.

In truth, though, the Flying Dutchman wasn’t truly “sailing” underwater either.

It had no power of its own. Its heavy hull couldn’t be driven forward by the weak ocean currents. The only reason it moved at all was because Wadatsumi hauled it along.

Just as Vander Decken was calming himself, a loud creak-creak rang out.

He watched in alarm as that black ship suddenly glided past the stern of the Flying Dutchman, turned about, and sailed straight back toward them.

In less than thirty seconds, the Terror Ghost Ship was alongside them. With a resounding thud, the two vessels collided, shuddering from the impact.

Vander Decken’s eyes widened in disbelief.

So there really was a ship that could roam freely through the deep sea without a coating?

This discovery should have been astonishing, but to him now it was only an ominous sign.

Through the eerie green light, Vander Decken could see shadowy figures on the deck of the black ship. Two of them, standing at the rail, were especially clear.

One was a “fish-man” in a tricorne hat, his face covered with writhing tentacles. He wore a black cloak encrusted with barnacles, coral, and starfish, his bluish-gray eyes fixed intently on Vander Decken’s side.

Even the briefest meeting of their gazes made Vander Decken shudder. He quickly tore his eyes away—only to be confronted with the second figure.

This one was a man with clown makeup.

The clown froze for a moment on seeing Vander Decken. Then, with a strange grin, he calmly raised his right hand, plucked his own head from his shoulders, and gave Vander Decken a courteous bow—headless.

Why could his head…?

Vander Decken swallowed hard, convinced he was seeing a ghost. In the suffocating atmosphere, he didn’t even think of Devil Fruit powers.

His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. He could not calm himself.

He spun toward his ally, desperate.

“Wadatsumi, you—”

But the words died on his lips.

Ahead of him, Wadatsumi had already let go of the ropes towing the ship. His huge hands were raised in surrender.

And wrapped around the giant fish-man’s massive body was an even larger sea monster.

Its orange tentacles coiled tight around Wadatsumi, nearly pinning him to the ground.

The Kraken?!

Vander Decken recognized it instantly—the North Sea giant he had dealt with many times before.

Why was it here? And why was it attacking Wadatsumi?

Could it have gone mad from hunger—or…

He darted a glance back at the black ship, which loomed silently nearby.

Impossible. He had never heard of anyone being able to tame the Kraken.

And yet… here it was.

Vander Decken turned back.

Wadatsumi looked at him with a frightened, awkward expression.

“Captain… I was trying to warn you just now…”

Warn me?

Vander Decken blinked, then realization struck.

Earlier, while he was brooding over how to ally with Davy Jones and rescue Shirahoshi, Wadatsumi had tried to call out to him. He’d meant to warn him of this very danger.

But Vander Decken had ignored him, and now it was too late.

Still, he made one last attempt. He shouted:

“Wadatsumi! Break free of the Kraken, punch it, and haul the Flying Dutchman out of here!”

“Uh…?” Wadatsumi kept his hands raised, only twitching slightly for show.

Naturally, the Kraken’s crushing grip held him fast. He shook his head miserably.

“Captain, it’s the Kraken. I can’t beat it… maybe you should fight it instead.”

Useless fool!

Vander Decken cursed inwardly. But truthfully, if he himself tried, he had no better option.

He glanced again at the black ship. Without knowing its captain’s identity or purpose, he didn’t dare act rashly—but neither did he want to sit and wait for doom.

He racked his brain, until at last his gaze fell to his right hand, and inspiration struck.

Princess Shirahoshi… Forgive me. This might hurt you, but I have no choice.

It’s not my fault. It’s theirs—for forcing me to this.

Stripping off his right glove, he prepared to press his palm against the deck of the Flying Dutchman.

A shiver of excitement ran through him. Soon, at long last, he would see Princess Shirahoshi again—even if the Flying Dutchman itself came crashing down upon her, even if she were gravely wounded.

For Vander Decken was the wielder of the Mark-Mark Fruit, a Paramecia. His right hand had once touched Princess Shirahoshi.

Since then, anything he threw with that hand would fly unfailingly to her—letters of love, marriage proposals, spears… and now, even the Flying Dutchman itself.

“Princess Shirahoshi, I’m coming for you…”

Vander Decken’s face twisted into near-madness as his right hand hovered over the deck.

But before he could press it down, another hand seized him, hoisting him bodily into the air.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Davy Jones’ face filled his vision, countless tendrils slithering across Vander Decken’s body.

“You intended to use your ability… to send the Flying Dutchman away?”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep