Davy Jones already knew about Vander Decken’s Devil Fruit powers—he had learned of them from Hachi.

Back when Hachi and Van der Decken were on friendly terms, Hachi had naturally come to know about the latter’s ability and had mentioned it once before to Captain Davy Jones.

So, the moment Davy Jones saw Van der Decken’s motion, he immediately guessed what he was about to attempt.

After spending more than half a year just to reach Fishman Island and reclaim the Flying Dutchman, there was no way he would allow it to be spirited away now.

Crack!

Davy Jones twisted Vander Decken’s right hand until it snapped.

Vander Decken froze, staring blankly as his limp hand dropped to the deck as though it no longer belonged to him. The flash of searing pain had been all too real.

My arm… snapped so easily? Vander Decken thought in horror.

He tilted his head back and met Davy Jones’ eyes, his own widening in terror.

“You—”

Davy Jones seized Vander Decken by the collar and hauled him up, choking off the rest of his words.

At first, Vander Decken thought of forcing out a defiant retort.

But then Davy Jones’ writhing tentacles slithered around his throat, tightening like a noose. A ghastly hallucination seized him—he saw himself drowning, swallowed by the sea, suffocating to death.

It was his greatest fear.

Panic showed plainly on his face. His voice cracked and stammered.

“Wh-what… what do you want?”

Even his tone had changed.

“We can make a deal,” Davy Jones said bluntly. “I’ll take this ship. In exchange, you and your crewmate walk away alive.”

He had considered Hachi’s feelings. After Hachi had pleaded for leniency, Davy Jones chose to grant Vander Decken a chance.

But Vander Decken’s heart seethed with humiliation and fury.

What kind of ‘deal’ is this? Trading my life for my own ship?

What he didn’t understand was that, from Davy Jones’ perspective, he had no need to bargain at all. He could have simply seized the ship and killed them outright. The fact that he was offering them their lives was already more mercy than Vander Decken deserved.

“This…”

Vander Decken’s anger sputtered out quickly, leaving only hesitation. After all, his life was at stake—and what was a mere battered ship compared to that?

But Davy Jones didn’t wait for his reply. He grabbed Vander Decken’s already broken right hand and forced it into the icy seawater outside the bubble.

Vander Decken’s face twisted in shock. “No—!”

Too late. His right hand had been submerged, and the seawater washed away its mark—the memory of Princess Shirahoshi.

Only then did Davy Jones release him, letting his tentacles unwind.

He had no idea where the Flying Dutchman might have been sent if Vander Decken had activated his power. He simply wanted to cut off every path of retreat.

Vander Decken collapsed onto the deck, his face ashen. Gazing at his useless right hand, he let out a pitiful sob.

“My hand… my Princess Shirahoshi…”

Princess Shirahoshi? Davy Jones thought. Both Hachi and Perona had mentioned the name before—it seemed she was the Mermaid Princess of Fishman Island.

Davy Jones frowned. So Vander Decken’s cursed right hand had been fixed upon her?

This… this was the so-called captain of the Flying Dutchman?

Even if this ship wasn’t the same Flying Dutchman he once commanded—the very shape of its hull told him that much—it still bore the same name and carried within it the power bestowed by the Sea Goddess.

And its captain was this pitiful excuse of a fish-man? The sight filled Davy Jones with disgust.

He had expected that whoever bore the name of the Flying Dutchman’s captain would be a formidable lord of the deep. Instead, this encounter left him bitterly disappointed, even ashamed.

Even Will Turner had been better.

As Vander Decken lay groveling at his feet, Hachi swam over from the Black Pearl’s side.

He tilted his head, puzzled to see Vander Decken sobbing. “Captain Davy Jones, what’s wrong with him?”

Hearing that name, Vander Decken suddenly choked off his tears.

First, because he had just heard a name he recognized—”Davy Jones,” so often splashed across the headlines lately. Even Van der Decken, exiled pirate though he was, had heard it.

He knew that Hody Jones had taken his own surname from the legendary “Lord of the Abyss,” Davy Jones. Yet whenever the subject came up, Hody would furiously insist that the “Davy Jones” in the papers was a fraud.

No matter what astonishing feats this man performed, Hody could not tolerate the fact that his crew included so many humans.

If they were slaves, perhaps—but they were not. To Hody, that was unforgivable.

All the more so because, in his youth, Hody had idolized Arlong.

And when he learned that Arlong had been slain by Davy Jones, he was left with nothing but hatred for the man.

But for Vander Decken in this moment, none of that mattered.

What mattered was the clear, irrefutable truth: this was no one he could afford to provoke.

A man who could defeat a Warlord of the Sea could snuff out his life without a second thought.

Second, Vander Decken recognized a voice.

He raised his head, staring at Hachi’s familiar face—the puckered lips of an octopus, six writhing arms—and memory jolted back.

“H-Hachi?”

“Aye, it’s me,” Hachi said, cocking his head. “Why’re you crying?”

“I…”

Vander Decken faltered, glancing nervously between Davy Jones and Hachi. Then he remembered something else Hody had once told him.

Hody had warned that the traitor of the Arlong Pirates—Hachi—had defected to Davy Jones’ crew, and must be killed on sight.

Now it was plain enough.

Hachi ignored Vander Decken’s tears and spoke gently:

“Captain Davy Jones only wants the Flying Dutchman. If you agree, you and Wadatsumi can leave. He won’t harm you.”

Davy Jones’ expression twisted in disdain, but he did not retract his word.

Vander Decken’s face shifted.

Easier said than done. To abandon one’s own ship—an inheritance from generations past—and hand it over to an enemy? The humiliation was immeasurable.

Yet, in the end, what choice did he have?

The Kraken alone was more than he could ever handle.

His eyes darted back and forth. Seeing no other path to survival, he finally muttered, defeated:

“Fine. Take the ship… but keep your word.”

“I always keep my word,” Davy Jones said.

He turned his back and climbed the ladder to the upper deck, his voice echoing as he vanished into the shadows.

“Go. Don’t return. I’ve no wish to ever see you again.”

Vander Decken glanced at Hachi uncertainly. “Can I really leave?”

“The captain said so. You and Wadatsumi are free to go.”

Vander Decken coughed and wasted no time. He fashioned a bubble chamber around himself, ignoring any thought of reminiscing with Hachi.

Crouched inside, he gripped a stick with his left hand and paddled clumsily, guiding the bubble out from the Flying Dutchman.

He glanced nervously at the Kraken, but it paid him no mind. Relieved, he paddled harder, eager to flee.

Wadatsumi, left behind, burst into tears like a child.

“Captain Vander Decken, wait for me! Don’t leave me!”

But before he had even finished crying, the Kraken released him, as though obeying some unseen command.

Wadatsumi wasted no time. Surging through the water with his massive strides, he caught up to Vander Decken, lifting the bubble like a treasure.

Van der Decken, freed from paddling, barked, “Go, go, go! As far as possible!”

“Right!” Wadatsumi clutched the bubble protectively and charged away, churning the sea behind him.

Only once they had gone far and no pursuit came from the Davy Jones Pirates—Kraken still looming behind as guardian—did Vander Decken’s fear begin to subside.

But soon his thoughts turned, and he glanced back toward the Flying Dutchman.

Davy Jones wanted my ship so badly…

Does it hide some secret after all?

He recalled the legend of Vander Decken I.

Perhaps this ship truly possessed some mystery he had yet to discover—and now it had been stolen away by Davy Jones, who recognized its worth.

Damn it. This ship has been passed down for generations. If it carries some hidden power, it should have been mine. How could an outsider like him claim it?

As the two ghostly ships dwindled behind him, bitterness welled in his chest.

At last, he snapped to a decision.

“Wadatsumi, quickly! Take me to Fishman Island. I must see Hody Jones. I’ve got business—big business—for him.”

Wadatsumi nodded eagerly, clutching the bubble as if it were a treasure, surging through the water with great speed, stirring up clouds of silt as they fled.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep