Not only Foxy himself, but even Porche and the others watching were stunned.

The battle that everyone thought would be intense… had ended in such a one-sided fashion?

And yet, Foxy clearly wasn’t ready to give up.

By refusing to surrender immediately, he was waiting for the right moment—intending to ambush Kuro and then claim victory on the grounds that he had “never yielded.”

But the sly smile on Kuro’s face showed he had already seen through Foxy’s plan.

Shhhk! Shhhk! Shhhk!

The claws of his Cat Claw gloves whipped across Foxy’s cheeks, carving three thin bloody lines on each side.

The wounds stung but were shallow, bleeding only briefly before stopping. Then, once again, Kuro pressed the razor-sharp claws against Foxy’s throat.

“Do you really want to gamble… on which of us is faster?”

Kuro’s low murmur in Foxy’s ear was enough to send shivers down his spine.

“I surrender!!”

Without the slightest shred of pride, Foxy threw up both hands in defeat.

“I lost! This round of the ‘Pirate Game’—the victory belongs to you!”

The referee squad of the Pirate Game, seeing this, immediately declared Kuro the winner.

Only then did Kuro step back from Foxy and return calmly to Captain Davy Jones’ side.

Foxy hurriedly pulled out a small handkerchief, mopping the sweat from his forehead. Forcing a grin, he looked up and said:

“Captain Davy Jones, your crew truly are formidable. Since you’ve won, now the fate of our entire crew… rests in your hands.”

Fufufufu… Yes, that’s right. Let us all join the Davy Jones Pirates!

Davy Jones gave a slow nod. With his Observation Haki, he swept his senses across the Foxy Pirates, then shook his head.

If this were the East Blue, there were perhaps a few here he might accept. But now that they were on the Grand Line, his standards had risen.

If their combat strength wasn’t sufficient, then only their usefulness could save them.

“I cannot take you all in,” Davy Jones said bluntly. “I’ll accept only one of you. The rest are free… but in return, I will take the greater part of your provisions and treasure.”

“Wha—?!”

The Foxy Pirates were stunned. After Foxy’s defeat, they had already resigned themselves to joining the Davy Jones crew as a whole.

Porche had even begun imagining how she might get along with Alvida; Capote had thought of how he might work under Hachi.

But with just a single sentence, Davy Jones shattered all of those hopes, throwing them harshly back into reality.

“You… you’ll take only one? And on top of that, demand most of our food and treasure?” Foxy’s expression darkened. “You can’t—”

Thump… thump… thump…

Before he could finish, a stabbing pain seized Foxy’s chest.

Clutching his heart, he collapsed to his knees, face pale, drenched in sweat.

“What’s happening?!”

The crew rushed toward him in alarm, bewildered—because they had seen clearly that Davy Jones hadn’t moved a finger.

Then the captain’s cold voice descended upon them.

“Can’t I?”

From above, Davy Jones gazed down at the crouching Foxy.

“We swore an oath. And once sworn, that oath has power. I hold the right to dispose of your entire crew. You have no right to refuse.”

After a few moments, Foxy’s pain faded. He staggered back to his feet, pressing his chest. Not a mark—not even a bruise—remained, as though the agony in his heart had never happened.

What was that just now?

His mind replayed the memory of when he’d fired into the sky to seal his oath. At that very moment, hadn’t his heart felt as though something had taken hold?

Could it be… some kind of force preventing me from breaking the vow?

As the thought sank in, his mind recalled the original curse of the Pirate Game: those who break the rules will be locked within Davy Jones’ chest beneath the sea…

Was what I felt… a warning?

Does this mean… my heart itself is bound?

A chill ran through him. Foxy lowered his head, shaken to the core.

Never had he imagined that after swearing countless hollow oaths in his life, one day… a vow would truly bind him.

For the first time in a long while, Foxy’s desire to join Davy Jones’ crew dimmed, his earlier frenzy cooling into quiet dread.

“Speak,” Davy Jones ordered, turning his gaze upon the Foxy Pirates. “What skills do you have? Tell me.”

At first, they looked toward their captain. But Foxy sat slumped, defeated, uninterested in giving them direction.

So they exchanged glances—then erupted in a rush of self-promotion.

This was the perfect chance to escape their old lot!

“I’m Capote, a combatant—and a swordfish fish-man! I’ve long admired you, Captain Davy Jones, and Hachi-san as well!”

“I’m Hamburg! He’s Pickles, and he’s Big Pan—we’re the three tallest fighters of the crew!”

“I’m Itomimizu! I may be an announcer, but I’m also an expert at hosting banquets!”

Davy Jones listened impassively. None of it stood out—until his eyes fell upon the blue-haired girl who had yet to speak.

Pointing toward her, he said:

“You. Tell me—what can you do?”

Porche froze. She first looked to Alvida, then to Foxy, then finally cleared her throat.

“Captain Davy Jones… I am a navigator. I can chart courses and read the seas.”

At the word navigator, a thought sparked in Davy Jones’ mind.

Before climbing Reverse Mountain and entering the Grand Line, he had planned to eventually secure both a Log Pose and a skilled navigator.

The Log Pose, though now of limited use, had been acquired.

But a true navigator—one capable of predicting erratic climates, reading rogue currents, and steering toward necessary islands—had yet to appear.

They wouldn’t boost the crew’s combat might, but they would prevent unnecessary detours, disasters, and frustrations.

After all, the Terror Ghost could not remain submerged forever. Eternal darkness at the seafloor would drive even the strongest crew mad.

Without hesitation, Davy Jones declared:

“Then it will be you.”

The Foxy Pirates were stunned.

Porche, too, was dumbstruck for a moment—then delight burst within her.

Me? Really?!

Of course… a navigator’s worth was always prized at sea.

Yet when she saw the disappointment on her comrades’ faces, she curbed her joy. Coughing lightly, she put on a solemn expression.

“Everyone… since we lost the Pirate Game, we must honor its rules. Though I feel sorrow at parting from you, Captain Davy Jones has followed the terms and chosen me. There can be no complaint.”

It was true.

One by one, the others nodded in resignation.

But still… why not me?

Porche walked up to Foxy. “Captain—this will be the last time I call you that. Thank you for all your care.”

She slipped off her black eyepatch and placed it in his hand. With a shake of her long blue hair, she turned to leave.

Foxy stared blankly at the eyepatch for a long moment before the truth sank in.

Our navigator… Porche… has been taken from us in a Pirate Game—the very thing we were best known for?!

Porche strode away—two steps slow, then quickened, unable to hide her excitement. In no time, she was at Davy Jones’ side.

“Navigator ‘Cheer Captain’ Porche, reporting for duty!”

Davy Jones gave only a curt “Hm.” Showing little warmth, he then turned back to Foxy.

“Now. Hand over the bulk of your food and treasure.”

“Yes—hand it over!”

Porche’s shift of allegiance was seamless, her tone ringing with confidence.

“Captain Davy Jones, I know where they keep their stores. Please, this way.”

In the chaos that followed, the Davy Jones Pirates emptied nearly all of the Foxy Pirates’ supplies, leaving them desolate.

Foxy slumped to the ground, face twisted in despair, while the Hamburg brothers tried to console him.

Soon after, the Terror Ghost prepared to set sail again. From the shore, Capote shouted desperately:

“Captain Davy Jones! Please reconsider! Won’t you really take me too? I truly admire you and Hachi-san!”

But no reply came. The black ship merely surged forward, thick mist rising, and with the crash of waves it vanished from the island’s waters.

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