The Robber Pirates' ship glided silently through the depths, its bubble-coating shimmering faintly against the boundless dark sea. On the deck, the crew erupted in celebration, their joy spilling into the ocean air as they sang and raised mugs of frothing ale to mark their latest success. Captain Hoodie stood apart at the helm, his figure stood out against the flickering lantern light. His steel crest glinted sharply, and his white cape, crafted from the pelt of a Lapahn, billowed gently as if stirred by unseen currents.
The cape was no mere adornment, it was a piece of his history, a trophy from the day he stood alone on the frozen slopes of Drum Island to defend his family from a ferocious predator. The battle had left its mark not only on his soul but on his face, where the Lapahn's claws had torn through flesh, leaving it mangled and forever changed. He remembers it as clearly as the scene before him now: the crew scattered across the deck, sharing food and laughter, their voices echoing beneath the warm glow of lanterns. Amidst their celebrations, Captain Hoodie stood apart at the helm, his hand resting lightly on the edge of his helmet. The subtle gesture tethered him to the present, anchoring the weight of his past as his sharp gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the ocean's depths promised trials yet to come.
One of the younger pirates glanced toward the helm, where Captain Hoodie stood apart from the bustling scene. The lantern light danced across his helmet, and his white cape shifted softly with the ship's motion, a silent testament to his commanding presence. The crew's laughter and cheers carried through the air, their triumph etched in their lively energy, yet their captain remained still—his hand resting lightly on the edge of his helmet, his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon.
"To Captain Hoodie!" the pirate suddenly hollered, raising his mug high as he stumbled forward, ale sloshing over the rim. "The greatest captain this side of the Grand Line!" His bold cheer sent a wave of approval through the deck, with mugs clanking and shouts echoing in agreement. The celebration swelled, their voices rising to fill the night, as the pirate beamed with pride at his call to honor their leader.
"Damn right!" another pirate slurred as he jumped onto a barrel, kicking his legs out in an awkward attempt at a jig. The crowd burst into uproarious laughter, hooting and hollering as he nearly tipped over, barely managing to regain his balance amidst the chaos.
At the helm, Captain Hoodie leaned back with his harpoon gun slung over his shoulder, watching his crew cut loose. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though he quickly shook his head, as if reminding himself he couldn't relax fully. "Bunch of fools," he muttered under his breath, though there was warmth in his tone. For once, the weight of leadership didn't feel so heavy.
Meanwhile, below deck, the boy sat silently in his cramped cage. His gaze was fixed on a small porthole, where schools of fish weaved through the water in fluid, endless patterns. Their scales shimmered like liquid sunlight, scattering soft, shifting colors across the dark expanse. The way they moved, so perfectly in tune, felt like a secret only the ocean knew. "Beautiful…" he whispered, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. "Is that what this is? Beautiful…" His voice faded as he stared, the wonder outside the glass holding him captive, even if only for a moment.
The vibrant schools of fish began to shift, their fluid, mesmerizing patterns unraveling as they scattered toward the shadowed depths. The boy leaned closer to the porthole, his fingers lightly brushing the cold surface as if to hold onto the moment. "Wait… don't go," he murmured, his voice soft and almost pleading, a quiet yearning lacing his words. "Come back…"
The stillness outside felt heavy, as though the water itself had stilled to listen. Then, from the shadows, a single fish returned. Its shimmering body hovered near the glass, its light pulsing gently like a heartbeat. The boy's wide eyes met its unblinking stare, the silence between them thick with something unspoken.
And then, clear as day, it came to him. 'Danger.' echoed echoed deep in his mind.
Before he could make sense of it, the fish darted away, vanishing into the depths as quickly as it had come. The boy stayed where he was, his hand resting against the glass, staring at the empty waters beyond.
Up in the crow's nest, the lookout leaned lazily over the edge, a half-empty bottle dangling loosely from his hand. "Now this—this is the life," he mumbled to himself, hiccupping loudly. He squinted into the murky waters ahead, his expression suddenly shifting as he spotted something strange—a shadow, faint and distant, yet unmistakable. He laughed, giving the pirate next to him a hard nudge.
"Oi, I must be so drunk I'm seein' a ghost ship!" he chuckled, pointing out toward the faint silhouette.
His companion smirked and took a swig from his own bottle. "You've hit the bottle too hard, mate," he joked, chuckling—until his eyes caught the same shape. The menace of it's tattered sails and the sharp planks along it's jagged hull. His laughter froze. "Wait… I see it too…"
The two pirates stared in stunned silence before the bottle slipped from the lookout's grasp, shattering on the wooden floor below. "GHOST SHIP!" the lookout screamed, his voice cracking as he scrambled to sound the alarm. The cry reverberated across the deck, halting the celebration in an instant.
Pirates scrambled to their feet weapons in hand, mugs and barrels rolled as panic consumed the crew. Captain Hoodie's smile dropped in an instant. His eyes locked onto the faint figure closing in, 'The Flying Dutchman'. Lifting his harpoon gun he took aim, and barked his commands with sharp precision.
"Prepare for battle! Dolt, protect the mast! Everyone else, take aim and fire dammit! Don't just stand there!" Hoodie's voice cut through the chaos, snapping the crew into action.
Then the Flying Dutchman struck. From the ominous depths, Fish-Men swarmed from the shadow of the cursed ship, their powerful forms cutting through the water like living torpedoes. With terrifying speed and precision, they reached the Robber Pirates' ship, slamming their fists into the hull. The wood groaned and splintered under the relentless assault, the bubble-coating shimmering faintly, indifferent to the chaos beneath its surface.
Captain Hoodie stood tall on deck, his sharp gaze fixed on the attackers below. He raised his harpoon gun, haki flickering along the barbed tips of his projectiles. "Fire! Show no mercy!" he commanded, his voice ringing with authority. The crew scrambled into action, launching volleys of cannonfire and harpoons into the water. Heavy projectiles ripped through the depths, but the Fish-Men were too swift, weaving effortlessly around the attacks.
Captain Hoodie gritted his teeth, firing harpoon after harpoon, each one coated with haki. One struck a Fish-Man's arm, leaving a faint wound, while another grazed its target before veering off course. The injuries slowed only a few of the attackers, the rest pressing on with unrelenting force. The ship trembled under their blows, the crew's efforts seemingly futile as the Flying Dutchman loomed in the distance, a silent, menacing specter overseeing the onslaught.
The Fish-Men surged through the water like dark phantoms, converging on the ship from all directions. Their sleek, muscular forms propelled them with terrifying power and precision, silent shadows moving in perfect synchronization. Some swam below the hull, their tails slicing through the water like blades. From above, others descended with piercing speed, cutting through the dim light as they prepared their attack.
The bubble-coating shimmered faintly as they breached it, the surface bending like liquid glass around their forms before snapping back into place. From above, Fish-Men dove headlong through the barrier, droplets cascading from their bodies like falling stars as they landed on the deck in smooth, predatory motions.
Captain Hoodie's harpoon gun roared to life, its haki-coated harpoons streaking through the air with deadly accuracy. Each projectile struck true, sending Fish-Men sprawling to the deck, but their numbers pressed on undeterred. Around him, the crew fought desperately, blades clashing with steel, their shouts mixing with the mounting clamor of battle.
At the mast, Dolt stood like a fortress, his massive hammer rising and falling in sweeping arcs that scattered Fish-Men with every strike. "Hey, stop that!" he roared, his voice booming with authority as more attackers focused their assault on the towering structure. "If you break the mast, we'll sink!" Sweat ran down his face, but he didn't falter, each swing buying precious seconds for the crew.
But amidst the chaos, one Fish-Man slipped through Dolt's defenses. It moved with quiet purpose, weaving through the melee with unnerving speed. By the time Dolt spotted it, the Fish-Man was already at the mast. Its jaws gleamed as it lunged forward, biting into the wood with terrifying force.
The mast groaned violently, splinters flying as cracks raced upward like jagged lightning. The towering structure leaned precariously, its weight shifting ominously as ropes snapped loose, lashing through the air. Dolt stumbled back, hammer slack in his grip as he stared wide-eyed at the mast. "CAPTAIN HOODIE!" he bellowed, his booming voice cutting through the chaos as the ship's survival hung by a thread.
The mast groaned, its frame twisting under the relentless pressure as splinters erupted along its length. It leaned precariously, towering over the chaos as ropes snapped and sails tore, the structure holding on by sheer stubbornness. The crackling of wood grew louder, more frantic, as though the mast was fighting against the inevitable.
Pirates froze in terror, their eyes locked on the swaying mast as it tilted further, seconds away from collapse. Finally, with an ear-splitting creak, it gave way and came crashing down, splitting through the air like a falling giant. The moment it struck the ship, the bubble-coating let out a sharp, shrieking hiss before bursting apart in a violent ripple.
Seawater surged in immediately, slamming into the deck with brutal force. Pirates screamed as the flood consumed the ship, sweeping away anyone and anything in its path. Dolt stumbled backward, the rising water swirling around his legs as he flailed. "We're doomed! I-I didn't even say goodbye to my hammer!" he wailed, his voice cracking as chaos overtook the crew and the ship plunged toward ruin.
Hoodie froze, his harpoon gun slipped from his grasp, hitting the deck with a dull thud. His mind swirled with bitter memories of a sweet past, he saw his family, their trusting eyes, their laughter. He'd promised them a future, a better life, and now that promise felt like ash on his tongue.
'You just had to make a promise like that huh hoodie... you damn fool,' he thought, teeth clenched as despair clawed at him. The water rose higher, icy and merciless, pulling at him as the ship groaned its death knell. Hoodie's breathing was ragged, his gaze fixed on nothing as the cold inevitability of the deep began to close around him.
A wry grin spread across his face as the water rose past his knees. "Looks like I finally bit off more than I can chew," he muttered, chuckling softly, though there was no joy in it. As the sea swallowed him whole, he let out one final whisper. "I'm sorry."
The sea struck with brutal, unrelenting force, crashing down on the ship like the fist of an enraged titan. The immense pressure blasted through the vessel instantly, its frame groaning and snapping apart with a deafening crack. The ship's structure buckled under the assault, splitting jaggedly in two as splinters and debris erupted into the churning waters.
Above the chaos, Vander Decken IX watched as the destruction unfolded beneath him. The murky light of the depths cast eerie shadows across his face, his twisted grin only growing as he watched the wreckage spiral deeper into the abyss. His gaze was cold and unflinching, reveling in the chaos that the ocean had wrought.
The Flying Dutchman descended steadily, its massive oars groaning as they pushed the ship deeper into the silent abyss. The cursed vessel moved with an air of menace, the dim, murky light of the deep casting long shadows over its ghostly frame. Encased in his bubble suit, Vander Decken IX stood tall at the bow of the Flying Dutchman, he wore a cruel grin as waters parted before him. His gaze pierced through the gloom, fixed on the ocean floor below as the Dutchman neared its destination.
As the ship approached the seabed, the full weight of the destruction came into view. The ocean floor was a desolate graveyard, littered with the bodies of the Robber Pirates. Their forms lay sprawled amidst the shattered remains of their once-mighty ship. Broken beams and splintered masts jutted out like skeletal remains, scattered haphazardly across the sand. Some pirates lay twisted among the debris, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void, while others floated just above the seabed, their tattered clothing swaying gently in the cold currents. The eerie silence was suffocating, the chaos that had torn through their lives now reduced to a haunting stillness.
Amid the wreckage, Captain Hoodie stood out, even in death. Leaning against the broken remains of his ship, his posture exuded an air of defiance, as if refusing to bow even to the ocean's cold embrace. His arm was raised, his hand clenched into a fist, his finger extended a final, brazen gesture aimed at the abyss, or perhaps at Vander Decken himself. Even in the silence of the deep, his presence seemed to linger, a fierce challenge frozen in time, forever marking him as the captain who never surrendered.