Breaking through the lingering mist surrounding the unnamed island, the black-and-red warship sailed away from the shore.
Soon after, a fresh wind picked up, scattering the fogbanks. The longship surged forward, cutting through the waves!
The island gradually receded into the distance, shrinking until it was merely a black speck where the sea met the sky. Moments later, it was swallowed once more by the pervasive mist, vanishing completely from sight.
The turbulent waves calmed. The warship had left the strange sea region behind, now sailing smoothly under clear, boundless skies.
"Boss, uh…" Bacon sidled up to Wilder, mustering his courage. "That thing… you really not gonna, y'know, show us?" he asked tentatively, clearly referring to the bizarre living swamp clumps from the cavern.
The other executives watched from a safe distance, silently observing Bacon court death.
"Show you what?" Wilder replied, lounging comfortably on his beach chair. He cracked open an eye just a slit, glancing sideways at Bacon.
"You know… the swamp chil—"
BANG!
Before Bacon could finish his sentence, he was sent flying backwards, slamming hard against the ship's railing. He bounced upwards off the impact, tracing a perfect arc through the air before landing with a loud splash in the ocean.
"Man overboard!" one of the crewmen yelled after a stunned moment. "Rescue him!"
"Heh… idiot," Yves muttered, his tone a familiar blend of coldness and disdain.
Wilder subtly lowered the hand he'd presumably used to flick Bacon away and closed his eyes again, making it unclear whether he was resting or simply lost in thought.
After being hauled back onto the deck by several crew members, Bacon proceeded to vomit seawater profusely, tears and snot streaming down his face in a blatant, yet utterly ignored, attempt to garner sympathy. No one paid him any attention; all eyes were currently fixed on a large, dark shape moving in the water nearby.
Something resembling a massive dorsal fin broke the surface, then submerged, then reappeared, sometimes slicing through the waves and kicking up considerable spray, sometimes vanishing beneath the depths entirely.
Finally, after several passes, the creature in the water revealed its full form. "Whoa, look at the size of that fish!" someone on deck exclaimed in awe.
"Alright, decided!" Bacon declared, having recovered somewhat. He leaned over the railing, drooling as he stared intently at the huge fish below. "We're eating fish tonight!"
The fish was indeed massive, easily over twenty meters long. It looked incredibly fierce, and as events would soon prove… it was.
"Waaah! Waaah! We're gonna die! Save me! Save me!" came a series of panicked shrieks from the water's surface. The scene had shifted dramatically: a small, flailing figure – Bacon – was now being dragged at high speed across the ocean by the giant fish, leaving a long, churning white wake behind him.
He clung desperately to a specially made, oversized fishing rod, eyes squeezed shut, babbling incoherently. His body bounced and skipped across the waves like a stone, yet he was too terrified to let go of the rod.
"Rescue him!" came the cry from the deck again.
Aboard the Black Serpent, Yves, Claire, and Ashin watched the spectacle with undisguised amusement. Wilder, the fourth executive present, remained reclined with his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious and utterly indifferent to whether Bacon would become fish food.
While the executives found the situation comical, the regular crew took the potential danger to a senior officer seriously. A rescue party was quickly organized and dispatched into the water.
Bang! Bang! Bang! A few cannon shots echoed across the water, and the frantic struggle abruptly ceased.
The seawater around the giant fish turned red. Bacon, heart pounding with residual fear, finally let out a shaky sigh of relief. He was hauled back onto the ship like a limp, waterlogged dog by one of the crewmen.
Ultimately, the massive fish did not escape its culinary fate. As moonlight bathed the deck and night truly fell, a lively feast began.
"Hahaha! You see this? I caught this fish!" Bacon boasted loudly, throwing an arm around a nearby crewmate's shoulder, a brimming cup held aloft in his other hand, radiating immense pride.
"Heh heh…" came the sound of stifled snickers from around the deck.
Sometime during the feast, Wilder excused himself and returned to the captain's cabin. The others remained on deck, enjoying the cool sea breeze, alternating between sobering up slightly and continuing to drink.
The giant fish was swiftly reduced to nothing more than a few large bones; even the fins had been devoured, picked clean.
After the harrowing experience of the storm and the unsettling events on the bizarre island, everyone felt the need to unwind. They were acutely aware that if not for Wilder, they likely all would have perished there. It wasn't an exaggeration; even powerful fighters like the senior executives had been effectively useless against the island's main threat. They would have been quickly overwhelmed and exhausted by the endlessly regenerating monsters long before they could have hoped to find the mastermind.
Inside the captain's cabin, decorated in elegant shades of rose-red, Wilder stood by the window. He held a stemmed wine glass in his left hand, swirling the red liquid within, its color mirroring the room's decor.
His tall figure remained perfectly still, gazing out the window for an unknown length of time at the dark, shimmering surface of the sea, lost in thought.
Quiet settled around him…
It's often in moments of quiet contemplation that strange and varied thoughts arise. Ideas and considerations, usually kept dormant by the preoccupations of daily life, tend to surface during these times.
Contentment… It was a state an ambitious man like himself should arguably avoid.
At certain moments, Wilder found himself questioning if the path he walked was truly the right one. Not that he desired contentment, but quiet moments inevitably led to broader reflections. He wondered… should he be seeking something else?
Something beyond the relentless expansion of his power and influence.
Perhaps… freedom?
As for things like love… well, for the time being, at least up until this point, he hadn't felt even the slightest inclination in that direction.
Freedom, though? He was free, in a sense. Yet, he felt constrained, bound by certain things. What were they? His own organization, perhaps? Or something less tangible?
All sorts of jumbled, disparate thoughts drifted through his mind, emerging unbidden.
Most were random, illogical notions disconnected from his current reality. For instance, he sometimes found himself wondering… was the moon in this world somehow connected to the one in his original world?
Would he… ever find a way back?
These were thoughts he rarely allowed himself to dwell on, things he normally pushed aside, yet they inevitably surfaced in these quiet, solitary moments.
After a long while, Wilder finally left the captain's cabin and rejoined the ongoing party on deck. He drank with the crew, threw arms around their shoulders, and even joined in some unknown, raucous dance.
He didn't know exactly when it started, but he realized he had changed somewhat recently. It felt like a positive change. Whether it stemmed from calculated intent or genuine feeling, he found himself… a bit more open, perhaps more 'sunny' than before. He could naturally blend in with people he held no personal stake in, becoming, at least temporarily, one of their comrades, a friend for the moment.
This 'sunniness' wasn't about his methods or overall goals, but a subtle shift in his personality, however small.
"Is this… really okay, Boss?" Jacks asked, his voice filled with shock. Wilder had beckoned the crew leader over to a quieter corner of the deck and spoken privately with him.
"Yes," Wilder confirmed, looking Jacks directly in the eye. "I have high hopes for you, Jacks." He produced a small box. Inside rested a Devil Fruit shaped like a mango, covered in strange, swirling patterns – the very fruit he had recovered from the stomach of a Sea King some time ago.
After a period of investigation and research, he had finally identified the fruit's power. It was a Zoan-type Devil Fruit, and a rare variant at that – one that granted the power of flight. Specifically, the Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Peregrine Falcon.
He had offered the fruit to his other senior executives previously, but was satisfied when they had all declined, choosing instead to continue honing their existing strengths and fighting styles.
Which led him to… Jacks. Wilder had intended to cultivate Jacks' potential for some time now. The fruit itself wasn't exceptionally rare or valuable in the grand scheme of things. It seemed more beneficial to use it to quickly strengthen Jacks. Having another capable officer, potentially even a senior officer, would be invaluable, saving considerable time and effort down the line.
He already had plans… plans for what would come after he gained control of the entire East Blue.