When the giant warrior was still at the height of his strength, the poison had failed to take hold. But now that he was weakened, the venom finally began to spread, paralyzing his limbs.

Davy Jones stretched out his right hand. The black staff that had pierced through the giant’s knee slipped free, flew back into his grasp.

He walked to the side of the fallen giant’s head, leapt into the air, and with his right foot wrapped in Armament Haki, delivered a crushing kick to the warrior’s helmet.

The explosion echoed through the ruins of the palace—helmet and golden crown shattered, revealing the giant’s face beneath.

No longer an indomitable warrior, his eyes now pleaded pitifully with the crew surrounding him.

Davy Jones ignored that look. His voice was cold:

“One strike each. From today, you can all claim you’ve slain a giant.”

He stepped aside, leaving space for his crew. They closed in, their shadows falling across the giant’s head.

What followed was a brutal execution, but with it, the last trace of fear the crew once held toward the monsters of the Spire was shattered.

The giant warrior perished, leaving behind two trophies.

The first was a scarlet key—one of the three keys they sought.

The second was a golden belt, engraved with the number “1.”

This belt had appeared in the codex before. It was said to grant its wearer greater strength, while at the same time sapping the strength of their enemies. Alvida was immediately enamored with it, finding it perfectly suited to her brute force.

But even after claiming it, she intended to present it first to Captain Davy Jones, so he might distribute it.

“Wait.” Kuro stopped her. “Don’t disturb the captain just yet.”

Puzzled, Alvida paused—then realized Davy Jones was already standing silently not far away.

She couldn’t tell if it was an illusion, but the aura surrounding him seemed like a raging tsunami one moment, then as calm and endless as the horizon the next.

“I’ve had a suspicion about the captain for some time,” Kuro explained to the others. “I believe he feeds on fear, drawing strength from it.”

—Feeds on fear?!

“Think about it. After every clash, the captain emerges stronger in some way. It defies all logic.

But if you string every battle together, there’s one common thread: everyone fears Davy Jones.”

“The Spire’s monsters along the way… even those overwhelmed by his Conqueror’s Haki… and now this fallen giant warrior. All of them. The captain devours the fear they give off—and makes it his own.”

Kuro adjusted his round spectacles, their gleam obscuring his eyes.

“Because he is the ‘Dread Lord of the Deep Sea.’ That much is undeniable.”

The crew all swallowed hard. This thought had weighed on them for a long time, though none had dared speak it aloud. Today, Kuro had said it.

Davy Jones really was the “Dread Lord of the Deep Sea.”

“I believe the captain is reclaiming the ‘demigod’ power he once lost,” Kuro continued. “That is who we follow.

And if a man has but one fleeting chance in life to rise and become a pirate known the world over—then I’m certain, this is it.”

The crew fell into silence, each lost in thought. Some wavered still, but others had already made their choice.

It was then that Davy Jones stirred, as if waking from a dream. He exhaled a long breath, then turned, his gray-blue eyes locking onto them.

“Captain,” Alvida hurried forward, offering him the red key and the golden belt.

Davy Jones accepted only the key. “The belt—keep it.”

Alvida smiled softly. “Yes, Captain.”

Her wish had been granted, and her faith in him grew all the more certain.

Davy Jones placed the scarlet and green keys together, then lifted his gaze.

“I have made contracts and bargains with each of you before. Now, I will grant you another choice: remain as you are… or forge a new pact with me.”

Remain unchanged?

Or enter a new contract?

The crew exchanged uneasy looks. Two of them were quickest to respond.

“I will make a new pact,” Alvida declared.

“I will continue to follow you. A new pact,” Kuro echoed, adjusting his glasses.

Their swift vows plunged the atmosphere into a strange tension.

Davy Jones ignored the others’ hesitation, smiling only at Alvida and Kuro.

“Then swear it. For the next hundred years, you will exist as crew of Davy Jones.”

—A hundred years?!

How many humans could even hope to live that long?

What happens when they die? Would they still remain as his crew?

Death itself… and still a pirate under him?

Alvida and Kuro exchanged a glance. Both saw in the other’s eyes a fear too deep for words.

Yet that fear was swiftly smothered—buried beneath their thirst for something greater.

“I swear to Captain Davy Jones,” they spoke as one.

“For the next one hundred years, I will exist as his crew.”

As their words rang out, both felt something new stir within their bodies—something indescribable.

“An oath,” Davy Jones explained at last, “is both a shackle… and the source of your strength.”

“You are now bound to the Terror Ghost, entwined like serpents. You will feed on fear. Each time you draw power from her, your bodies will grow stronger, your severed flesh knit back together, your wounds heal.”

“But remember this—the more often you borrow her power, the tighter the bond will become. In the end, you may become inseparable from her—one and the same.”

His hand brushed the writhing tendrils upon his own face.

“You will become like me. Not a fish-man… but a monster.”

He gave a hoarse laugh, turned, and walked away—giving the others no chance to answer.

If they chose silence, then let them remain as they were.

Alvida stared down at her own body in shock, though she felt no different. Raising her eyes, she saw Kuro examining himself as well—yet far more calmly.

“Power always has a price,” he said with a rare smile. For the first time since joining, the others saw him truly smile.

The crew dared not let the captain wait too long. They followed him quickly out of the ruins.

Together, they climbed the slope of the ruined city. Ahead lay the entrance to the third level. But before they could press on, the sounds of fierce combat echoed from afar.

“Captain.”

Buggy produced a spyglass from his coat, handing it to Davy Jones while keeping his head lowered, unable to meet his gaze. His silence during the oath weighed on him.

But Davy Jones cared little. With a click, he extended the spyglass, raised it to his eye, and looked down from above.

What he saw was a group beset on all sides by the monsters of the second level.

And among them—an all too familiar face.

Crocodile.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Shachi muttered bitterly. Back-to-back with Penguin and the polar bear Bepo, the three stood battered and bloodied. “Law, we should retreat.”

The aerial monstrosities, the serpents crawling on the ground, the man-eating snake-flowers, and the strange status ailments had worn them down to their limits.

Law remained silent.

He had not expected that after striking a temporary deal with one of the Seven Warlords, Crocodile, he would end up trapped here.

The numbers and strength of the first layer’s monsters had misled him.

Not to mention—its elite had already been wiped out by Davy Jones’s crew and Crocodile.

Even the first floor’s guardian had fallen to Davy Jones.

Thus, they had advanced smoothly into the second floor.

The Heart Pirates’ objective was simple: they had heard scattered rumors of the Deep-Sea Spire from elsewhere, and with a submarine capable of descending, they had come seeking the treasure said to lie at its summit—

The Heart.

Law bore a personal vendetta against another Warlord, Donquixote Doflamingo. Yet the gap between their strengths was too vast to close anytime soon.

So he had placed his hopes on the Heart—believing it could grant him a leap in power.

But not long after they entered the sunken city, the monsters had swarmed them.

Strangely, these creatures seemed almost frenzied, as if something had provoked them.

“ROOM!”

Wearing his domed hat, Law conjured a spherical space around him. Within it, every monster was cut apart by the sweep of his blade—scattered chunks of flesh.

Yet under his direction, the severed pieces reassembled into grotesque mismatched forms, throwing the battlefield into chaos.

Such was the power of the Ope Ope no Mi, the “Surgery-Surgery Fruit.”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep