Alvida awoke to the crashing sound of waves. Sitting on the edge of her wooden bed, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Her cabin was relatively spacious—larger than the captain’s quarters on her old pirate ship—and it was fully furnished. But even so, she had spent the first week aboard this ship sleepless.

And who could blame her? Alone on a strange and eerie ship, with the creaking sounds of that tentacled captain pacing across the deck… Anyone would struggle to sleep.

But things were different now. After over a month aboard the Terror Ghost, she had adapted. The ship no longer felt so frightening—it had grown familiar.

As a former pirate with a rough-and-ready lifestyle, Alvida didn’t spend much time primping. A quick wash and a little tidying up were enough for her. Of course, thanks to the Devil Fruit she’d eaten, her appearance, skin, and figure remained impeccable whether she tended to them or not.

The deck was empty. Alvida yawned, strolling toward the ship’s prow under the gloomy early dawn light, gazing at the faint white glow on the horizon.

“Huh?” came a voice from behind her.

Turning around, she saw Buggy climbing down from the crow’s nest. He’d had the night watch.

“You’re up early, Alvida,” he said.

As the first two crew members aboard the Terror Ghost—well, the only two aside from one more—they were pretty familiar with each other by now.

“Mm,” Alvida nodded, her long black hair cascading like a waterfall in the sea breeze. “By the way, how’s my mace coming along?”

Ever since Buggy started making his Buggy Bombs, and after Captain Davy Jones handed over Krieg’s armor and spear for research, Buggy had become the ship’s go-to guy for equipment and maintenance.

Alvida’s spiked mace had chipped during a clash with Luffy and Zoro a few days back. She didn’t dare ask the captain to repair it, so she turned to Buggy instead.

“Just about done. I even added a little something extra,” Buggy said with a sly grin, his red nose twitching comically. He gestured mysteriously toward his quarters. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Alvida followed him into his room, where she was greeted by a mess of powders, tools, and blueprints scattered all over the floor.

Buggy picked her mace up off a shelf and handed it over. “Give it a swing.”

“Sure.” Alvida swung the mace experimentally. It was heavier, just as she’d requested. It felt even better in her grip than the one the captain had given her.

“Not bad. The cracks are all gone. So what’s this ‘extra’ you mentioned?”

“Try twisting the bottom of the handle,” Buggy said, grinning wickedly.

That look made Alvida feel an almost irresistible urge to smack him across the face with the mace.

Still, curiosity got the better of her. She gripped the end of the handle and gave it a twist. Click—a section of the long handle detached with a soft snap. Alvida gave Buggy a surprised glance, while he looked smug as ever.

She peered inside the hollow handle. There was a small red sphere inside.

Alvida dumped it into her palm—two spheres, actually, stacked atop each other. Each was painted with Buggy’s signature clown face. His “trademark,” apparently.

“What the hell are these?” Alvida asked, making a motion to toss one into the air.

Buggy panicked. “Wait! Stop! Be careful with those! They’re my specially-made Buggy Bombs. If the switch gets triggered and it lands at your feet, you’ll lose a leg!”

Alvida immediately clenched her fist and stuffed both spheres back into the hollow handle. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?!”

“They’re not that easy to detonate,” Buggy said with a shrug. “I just meant you should be careful not to accidentally trigger them.”

He was already dreaming aloud. “Next, I want to make them even smaller. More portable. With even more explosive power.”

Alvida reattached the bottom of the handle and asked, “Only two bombs? That’s not gonna cut it in a real fight.”

“I only made two so far.” Buggy spread his hands in a mock shrug, then added with a smirk, “But two is plenty for you—one for a tough opponent, and the other in case you need to off yourself to avoid getting captured.”

WHAM—

Alvida’s mace slammed into Buggy’s back, sending him flying out onto the deck. He skidded along the planks until he came to an abrupt stop—pinned down by Captain Kuro’s boot just as the latter stepped out of his cabin.

Kuro showed no interest in why Alvida had struck Buggy. In fact, he showed very little interest in anything that happened aboard the Terror Ghost. He simply adjusted his glasses with a hand and walked toward the ship’s prow.

“That mace really is well made,” Alvida said, stepping out.

Buggy climbed to his feet, shouting, “You damn hag! You’ll regret that! I’ll show you what the great Buggy is truly—!”

He was cut off by a voice from within the ship.

“You’re all awake? Come in.”

It was the captain.

Alvida and Buggy exchanged a look and, setting aside their scuffle for now, followed Kuro into the captain’s quarters.

The captain’s room was the largest space aboard the Terror Ghost—more like a concert hall than a cabin. At its center stood an old pipe organ with rows of keys and upward-facing pipes.

By all logic, the Terror Ghost shouldn’t have had enough interior space to house a room like this, based on its outer dimensions. But somehow, the ship’s interior was far larger than it appeared from the outside.

Captain Davy Jones picked up a nautical chart from his desk and handed it to the crew. Then he sat down before the organ and asked, “Any requests?”

Alvida and Buggy stared blankly at him. It wasn’t that they’d never heard music before—it was just that no pirate ever remembered what a tune was called.

Thankfully, Kuro stepped in, calm as ever. “Binks’ Sake, perhaps.”

Davy Jones had developed a great interest in this world’s music and had collected various scores, including the famous pirate ballad. Without hesitation, he began to play.

The moment his tentacles touched the keys, the room filled with a melody both lively and melancholic.

As Binks’ Sake echoed through the chamber, the crew examined the chart. It depicted the East Blue and the Red Line.

Davy Jones had always struggled to understand how the Red Line came to exist. It didn’t look natural at all.

Still, it was real. It blocked his path to the Grand Line—and to Fish-Man Island.

“Soon, we’ll cross Reverse Mountain and enter the Grand Line,” Davy Jones said, finishing the piece and turning toward them. “There are some things that must be settled before then.”

He stood up. The crew fell silent, ready for orders.

“The Navy has placed bounties on us, treating us as a pirate crew led by me. And honestly, they’re not wrong. What we’ve been doing is pirate work. So if that’s how it is, I need a Jolly Roger—a proper pirate flag.”

He looked each of them in the eye.

“All of you, draw a design. I want to see what you come up with.”

Alvida and Buggy were stunned.

Alvida had spent her whole life swinging a mace. Asking her to draw was asking too much.

As for Buggy, the best thing he could draw was his own clown face. No way he was putting that on their flag unless he had a death wish.

Kuro, the most literate and composed among them, remained perfectly calm.

“There’s something else,” Davy Jones continued. “Before we enter the Grand Line, I need intel on two things. First: Haki. Second: the fish-men of the East Blue—I’ve heard they’ve formed their own pirate crew.”

Haki?

It had been ages since Buggy heard that term. How did the captain know about it?

But thinking back to the captain’s battle with “Hawk-Eye” Mihawk… He had returned with a fierce new presence. Could it be he had awakened Haki during that fight? Had Mihawk mentioned it?

Buggy was no expert, but he’d heard enough about Haki in his old days to understand the basics.

“I’ll handle the Haki investigation, Captain,” he said quickly.

That should earn him some credit—especially since he knew he’d fail at drawing a flag.

Davy Jones nodded.

Seeing this, Alvida promptly volunteered too: “Captain, I’ll look into the Arlong Pirates—their location and any details I can find.”

She figured the next time they docked to resupply, she could gather info easily with her looks—as the East Blue’s most beautiful woman, it shouldn’t be hard.

“Very well,” Davy Jones nodded.

Kuro glanced sideways at the other two and frowned. They had each snagged a task and left him empty-handed. Irritating.

He silently cursed them both for being overachievers, then bowed slightly and said:

“Captain, I have some experience in illustration. Allow me to design the pirate flag. Once it’s ready, I’ll present it to you.”

“Good. That will do,” Davy Jones said. “You’re dismissed. Go take care of your assignments.”

The crew responded in unison and quietly left the captain’s quarters.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep