The sea was calm, deceptively so. The schooner cut through the waters with ease, its sails full of wind as we put more distance between ourselves and the Marine-infested port. The pale light of the moon bathed the deck in a cold glow, and the only sounds were the creaking of the wood and the faint lapping of the waves.
But the calm didn't reach me. It hadn't since the Warlord rose from the shadows.
I stood at the helm, my hands gripping the wheel tightly, the ache in my side flaring with each movement. The gash left by the Marine lieutenant's saber was freshly stitched, but every breath reminded me how close I'd come to dying, again.
Harlock stood nearby, one of his axes resting against his shoulder as he leaned on the railing, his glowing eyes scanning the horizon. The Pirate Shadow crouched near the mainmast, its blade across its lap, as silent and eerie as ever.
And then there was the Warlord.
It stood at the bow of the ship, its massive frame impossible to ignore. The greatsword strapped to its back hummed faintly with power, and the crimson glow of its hollow eyes cut through the night like beacons. It hadn't moved much since we set sail, standing like a silent sentinel, but its presence was oppressive, an unspoken weight that pressed against my chest.
The System's notification about the Warlord still lingered in my mind. Its strength was undeniable, but the warning was clear: its power came with a cost. And I was starting to realize just how dangerous that cost might be.
"What's the plan, Master?" Harlock asked, breaking the silence.
The title still felt strange every time he said it. Master. Like I was in control of something.
"We find somewhere quiet," I said, my voice low. "We need to regroup, restock, and figure out what the hell we're doing."
Harlock nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "And the Warlord?"
I glanced at the massive shadow. Its hollow eyes stared out at the horizon, unblinking.
"I don't know yet," I admitted. "It showed up because the shadows brought it to me. But I don't know why, or what it wants."
Harlock tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Shadows like the Warlord don't just appear without reason. It's tied to you now, Master. Whether you like it or not."
The weight of his words settled over me, heavy and suffocating.
"You've been quiet," Harlock added after a moment, his tone more measured.
I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. "What do you mean?"
"You haven't said much since we left the port," he said, crossing his arms. "That bounty of yours, 'The Shadow Reaper.' It's a big name for someone so new to the sea."
I let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow even to me. "You think I wanted that name? The Marines slapped it on me because I scared them. That's all it is, fear."
"Fear is a powerful thing," Harlock said simply. "You can use it. Or it can use you."
I didn't respond, my eyes drifting back to the Warlord.\
The night stretched on, and with it, the heavy silence. My thoughts were a storm of questions: about the Warlord, about my bounty, about why the hell I was even here.
The System had thrown me into this world with no warning, no guidance. It gave me power, yes, but it also gave me enemies. And now, with a bounty of 42 million beli on my head, I wasn't just a shadow-wielder hiding in the East Blue anymore.
I was a target.
And this wasn't like some episode of One Piece where everything magically worked out for the protagonist. Luffy had his dreams, his crew, his unshakable will. He had a reason to fight, to keep moving forward.
Me? I was barely keeping myself alive.
I leaned against the wheel, my hands tightening until my knuckles turned white. This wasn't just some story I could watch from the sidelines. This was my life now.
And if I didn't figure out how to survive, how to thrive, this world would chew me up and spit me out.
The Warlord moved suddenly, its heavy footfalls echoing across the deck as it stepped away from the bow. Its crimson eyes locked onto me, and for a moment, I felt like the shadows themselves were watching.
"Master," it said, its voice deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder.
I stiffened, meeting its gaze. "What is it?"
"You hesitate," it said simply, its tone devoid of judgment. "The shadows feel your uncertainty."
I swallowed hard, the weight of its words pressing against my chest. "I'm not... uncertain," I said, though the lie tasted bitter.
The Warlord tilted its head slightly, its eyes flickering. "You are. And that hesitation will break you."
The bluntness of its words caught me off guard. Harlock shifted slightly, his gaze flicking between me and the Warlord, but he didn't intervene.
"You speak like you know me," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "But you're just another shadow. Another tool the System threw at me."
The Warlord stepped closer, the weight of its presence almost suffocating. "I am not a tool. I am a reflection."
"A reflection of what?"
"Of you," it said simply. "Your fear. Your doubt. Your rage. I exist because you created me."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I wanted to argue, to tell it that it was wrong, but deep down, I knew it wasn't. The shadows weren't just tools, they were a part of me, tied to every decision I made, every action I took.
And the Warlord was right.
I was afraid.
The realization left me shaken, but it also lit a spark in my chest. If the shadows were a reflection of me, then maybe I wasn't as powerless as I thought.
Maybe the Warlord wasn't just a warning, it was an opportunity.
"I don't know what the shadows want from me," I said finally, my voice steadying. "But if they're tied to me, then I'll make them work for me. Not the other way around."
The Warlord tilted its head again, its crimson eyes flickering. "Good," it said simply.
Harlock let out a low chuckle, his axes resting against the railing. "Well said, Master. You might just figure this out after all."
I wasn't so sure, but for the first time in weeks, I felt like I was starting to understand what the Forgotten King had meant. Power wasn't just about strength, it was about control
The calm was short-lived.
As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, a ship appeared in the distance. Its silhouette was unmistakable: a Marine vessel, its white sails marked with the World Government insignia.
"They're still on us," Harlock said, his tone grim.
"Of course they are," I muttered, gripping the wheel.
The Warlord stepped forward, its greatsword glowing faintly with shadow energy. "Shall we destroy them, Master?"
I hesitated, my mind racing. The ship was smaller than the one we'd faced before, but that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.
"No," I said finally. "We don't fight unless we have to. Not yet."
Harlock raised an eyebrow. "What's the plan, then?"
I stared at the Marine ship, the weight of my bounty pressing heavily on my shoulders.
"We run," I said. "For now."
The schooner turned toward the open sea, its sails catching the wind as we fled into the horizon.
The schooner groaned under the strain as I pushed the wheel hard to starboard, the sails snapping in the wind. The Marine vessel was gaining, its silhouette growing sharper as dawn's light spread across the sky. Even from this distance, I could see the telltale glint of cannons being loaded and the crew scrambling to prepare for pursuit.
"Master, they're closing fast," Harlock said, his voice calm but firm.
"I can see that," I snapped, gritting my teeth as I fought to keep the schooner steady.
The Pirate Shadow remained silent near the stern, crouched low as if waiting for an order. The Warlord, meanwhile, had stepped to the edge of the deck, its massive frame casting a long shadow over the ship. Its greatsword hummed faintly with power, the crimson glow of its eyes locked on the pursuing vessel.
"They will catch us, Master," the Warlord said, its voice deep and resonant. "Unless we act."
The Warlord's words hung heavy in the air. It was right, the schooner was fast, but the Marine ship was built for pursuit. Its sails were larger, its crew more experienced. It wouldn't be long before they were within firing range.
I glanced at Harlock, his massive axes resting against his shoulders, and then at the Warlord, its greatsword practically vibrating with anticipation.
Every instinct screamed at me to fight. The shadows were ready, my soldiers were ready, but my gut told me this wasn't the right time. Not yet.
"No," I said finally, my voice steady. "We don't fight. Not unless they force us to."
Harlock raised an eyebrow, but he didn't argue. The Warlord tilted its head slightly, its crimson eyes narrowing.
"You hesitate again," it said.
I shot it a glare. "I'm not hesitating. I'm thinking. There's a difference."
The Warlord didn't respond, but I could feel its disapproval like a weight pressing against my chest.
The sharp boom of a cannon broke the stillness, and a column of water erupted from the sea just off the schooner's port side. The entire ship rocked violently, and I had to grip the wheel tightly to keep from being thrown off balance.
"That was a warning," Harlock said, his tone grim. "They're giving you a chance to surrender."
I clenched my teeth. "Yeah, not happening."
Another cannon fired, this one landing closer. The spray of seawater drenched the deck, and the schooner shuddered under the impact.
"They're not going to stop," Harlock said. "You have to decide."
I tightened my grip on the wheel, my mind racing. The Marine ship was closing the gap faster than I'd expected. If they boarded us, it would be over. I might be able to take down a few of them, but not a full crew, not with my wounds and the strain of the Warlord's summoning still weighing on me.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath.
Then I saw it: a dark mass of clouds on the horizon, looming like an impenetrable wall. It wasn't just a storm, it was a tempest, the kind sailors whispered about in the darkest corners of taverns.
It was suicide to sail into it.
But it was better than the alternative.
"Harlock," I said, turning the wheel sharply. "We're heading for the storm."
His glowing eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. "Bold choice, Master."
The Warlord stepped closer, its crimson eyes fixed on the storm. "The shadows thrive in chaos," it said. "Perhaps you will as well."
"Let's hope so," I muttered.
As the schooner veered toward the storm, the Marine ship fired another volley. This time, one of the cannonballs smashed into the water barrel near the mainmast, splintering it into pieces and sending water spilling across the deck.
"Keep moving!" I shouted, forcing the schooner forward. The wind began to pick up, whipping through the sails and carrying us closer to the churning clouds.
The Marines didn't slow. Their ship was larger, more stable, and built to handle rough waters. If anything, the storm might even work in their favor.
But I had one advantage they didn't: the shadows.
As we neared the edge of the storm, the air grew colder, the wind howling like a living thing. The shadows around me began to ripple, stretching and twisting as if they were alive. I could feel them growing stronger, feeding off the chaos and the darkness of the tempest.
The Warlord turned to me, its greatsword humming with energy. "The storm favors us, Master. Let me destroy them."
"Not yet," I said, my voice firm. "We use the storm to escape, not to fight."
It tilted its head, its crimson eyes narrowing. "As you wish."
The moment we entered the storm, the world turned to chaos. The wind screamed like a banshee, the rain lashing against the deck with brutal force. Waves rose and fell like mountains, lifting the schooner high before slamming it back down with bone-jarring force.
"Hold on!" I shouted, gripping the wheel with everything I had.
The Pirate Shadow moved to secure the rigging, its movements unnaturally fluid despite the raging storm. Harlock braced himself against the mast, his massive frame unmoving even as the ship lurched violently.
The Marine ship followed, its larger size giving it an advantage in the rough waters. I could see the silhouettes of its crew scrambling to adjust the sails, their shouts barely audible over the roar of the storm.
"They're still coming," Harlock growled.
"I know," I said through gritted teeth.
Then I saw it, a narrow channel between two jagged cliffs, barely wide enough for the schooner to pass through. The rocks jutted out like the teeth of some massive sea monster, and the waves crashed against them with deafening force.
It was dangerous. One wrong move, and the ship would be torn apart.
But it was our only chance.
"Harlock, secure the sails!" I shouted. "We're going through!"
He didn't hesitate, moving quickly to adjust the rigging. The Pirate Shadow followed, its blade cutting through loose ropes as it worked to stabilize the ship.
The Warlord stood at the bow, its massive frame steady even as the schooner pitched and rolled.
The Marine ship was still behind us, but the channel was too narrow for it to follow. If we made it through, we'd be free.
The schooner entered the channel, the jagged cliffs towering over us on either side. The waves surged around us, threatening to smash the ship against the rocks, but I held the wheel steady, my knuckles white as I fought to keep us on course.
The shadows around me surged, their energy rippling through the air. I could feel their power coursing through me, urging me forward.
"Almost there," I muttered, my eyes fixed on the far end of the channel.
The Marine ship didn't follow. Its crew stood at the edge of the storm, watching as we disappeared into the shadows.
When we finally emerged on the other side, the sea was calm again. The storm was behind us, its dark clouds fading into the distance. The schooner was battered, its sails torn and its deck covered in debris, but we were alive.
I slumped against the wheel, my body trembling with exhaustion. Harlock stood nearby, his axes resting at his sides, his expression unreadable.
The Warlord remained at the bow, its crimson eyes fixed on the horizon.
"We made it," I said, my voice barely audible.
"For now," Harlock replied.
I nodded, staring out at the endless sea. The storm had saved us this time, but I knew the Marines wouldn't stop. My bounty, my title, The Shadow Reaper, had made sure of that.
And as the shadows coiled around me, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.