The crew began to regroup. The results of our short descent left much to be desired: 4 dead, 3 missing, 5 seriously injured and 12 with minor injuries. There were only 7 people left on the ship who were not injured. Our ship slowly headed for the Red Line to make a stop and assess the damage.
While we were sailing, I helped the wounded. Thanks to my abilities, I was able to transfer the most dangerous injuries to less critical areas, such as my limbs. This reduced the overall damage to the body. In only two cases, the wounds were so severe that the transfer would have made people disabled. In other cases, a few months of recovery was enough.
When we got to the Red Line and went ashore, I found out about the condition of the ship. Two holes were found on it, which could be quickly repaired. Despite its battered appearance, the ship turned out to be in good condition — even the keel survived, although the hold and warehouse were turned upside down.
We spent three days on land. A lot has been done during this time. The main efforts were spent on repairing the ship: the prudent Rex had purchased materials and provisions in advance. Skillful crew members were engaged in repairs, the rest were cleaning and putting the hold in order.
The wounded, who were allowed to move, explored the surroundings in search of the missing. Unfortunately, their search yielded no results. But they often brought fish or other gifts of nature, adding food supplies.
We buried the dead the next day. They didn't grieve as much as I expected. During my time with the crew, I realized that most of them are practically unrelated to each other. Our team consisted, in fact, of strangers or small groups united by common interests.
Despite the situation, I continued to perform in the evening. Although there were fewer viewers, the effect of digesting the potion was weakened by a much smaller proportion. With the revelation of the ability to tolerate wounds, I also showed some new tricks.
After returning to the sea, we continued on our way. The wounded were resting, while the rest were busy with current affairs on the ship. I had no idea where the log pic was taking us, and the only thing I hoped for was that it wasn't Little Garden.
A week has passed since crossing the Grand Line. I thought it would be a shorter way to the nearest island, but I was wrong. It didn't matter now. An island with a giant palm-like tree appeared in front of us. Almost the entire island was inhabited, with houses standing both at the base of the tree and on its huge crown.
The captain, who was at the helm himself, said gloomily:
— Kyuk Island. Our first island. Keep quiet. It's a tourist destination, but they say the guys from Baroque Works have settled here.
Many immediately began to descend to the shore. Will and three subordinates remained on the ship. Having no special plans, I decided to go with Rex. The reason was simple: there could be hunters on the island, and the only reward in our team was assigned to the captain.
Before leaving, I used a fortune-telling pendulum and received a positive response that an attack was waiting for us. However, I didn't have time to find out who exactly would attack with the help of fortune—telling - Rex had already come ashore.
As we walked across the island, I thought about possible attackers.
I wasn't so much afraid as I wanted to conform to the potion aspect: "As a true magician, I have to be prepared for anything." This could help in its digestion. If the attackers are really from Baroque Works, then I considered agents from number ten to number two. Mr. 1, as far as I remember, was Crocodile's confidant, but I don't think he's here. The hunters from Baroque Works didn't pose much of a problem on their own, except for their leader.
Rex walked confidently, his large figure aroused concern among passers-by. He never turned around, not showing that he wasn't bothered by my presence. I was looking at the unique style of houses and the clothes of passers-by, and I'm surprised at the multicultural world of One Piece.
We went into a small but cozy store that sold old newspapers and magazines. There was a light dust inside, and the smell of paper mixed with the aroma of cheap coffee, which the seller, a gray-haired man in a worn vest, was drinking right behind the counter. Rex quickly flipped through a stack of newspapers, selected a few with visible water stains, and without further ado placed the money on the counter. The salesman nodded gratefully without asking any questions. We went out, and Rex continued to wander down the street, going into the shops, as if he was looking at the situation, and not looking for something specific.
In one of the shops, among the passers-by, I noticed a man with a bizarre hairstyle resembling the number "3". The hairstyle was so comical that it took an effort for me not to stare at him too intently. "I wonder if he once held a different position, did the figure change? For example, '17' or something else?" It flashed through my mind. The man was slowly flipping through a brochure, but from time to time his gaze slid over passersby, as if he were examining potential victims.
Trying not to betray my wariness, I looked away and pretended to look with interest at the statuette in the form of a sea king on the shelf. It was clearly a souvenir, but there was a certain wild sophistication in its design.
After a while, we entered a "navigation" store with an ornate sign made in the shape of a large compass. Inside, the room was lined with wooden racks with rows of Eternal Possessions. There were rough wooden boxes on the shelves, in which maps, log-posses and various tools for plotting routes were neatly arranged. One of the decorations, a huge round globe in the center of the room, was swaying slightly, as if it wanted to fall, but was held on its axis.
The name paid off: there were Eternal Messages on the shelves, one of which even pointed to Sabaody. Rex bought several: one for Drum Island, another for Folage, as well as for Alabasta, Jaya, and a certain Nanimonai. I also spent money buying a log-pos for Sabaody.
On the way back, I noticed that we were being watched, at least I clearly saw the hair in the form of a three-piece. I think there are two of them, given that the hierarchy in Baroque Works usually puts them in pairs.
When we went to the next store, I said quietly to Rex:
"Captain, I think we're being followed.
Rex frowned at me, his thick dark brows drawn together. He always acted deliberately, but I noticed how his gaze became sharper for a moment.
"Where did you see him?" "What is it?" he asked quietly, as if casually.
"First, near the navigation store," I answered without thinking— I've seen one so far, tall with the number three on his head. He kept his distance, but... He was obviously watching.
Rex nodded, as if he had already weighed several options.
"For now?" "What is it?" he asked, and there was something wary in his voice.
— So far, yes. But, Captain, it seems he's not alone. - without coming up with an obvious reason how I can know that there is more than one of them, I continued - it feels like he is not the only one watching us.
The captain was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes, and his face became even more stern.
—Okay,— he finally said, lowering his voice. "We don't know who they are, but if you've noticed one, there's another hiding somewhere nearby. If they decide to deal with us, it means that they are confident in their abilities.
His gaze flickered over me.
"We're going to that tavern first. It's through the back door. If they continue on their way, we'll know how many there are.
Rex paused for a moment, as if thinking about something else, but quickly waved his hand, indicating that he needed to move.
As we followed his route, I thought about the effectiveness of his idea. If it had been an ordinary firefight, or a small-scale battle, he would have chosen a good battlefield. But given the scale of Mr. 3's power and their hunter status, it's not profitable for them to fight in a crowded place. They will most likely attack near our ship, or when we reach a place that is not crowded enough.
We did as the captain said. As soon as they entered the tavern, he confidently headed for the kitchen. There, ignoring the indignation of the staff, we went through the back door. The stares of the cooks and waiters, initially full of indignation, turned to relief when they realized that we had disappeared without damage.
There was an alley behind the tavern, where commercial premises were closely adjacent. There was trash, old crates, and pieces of broken display cases all around. The dust in the air was mixed with the smells of dampness and decay. The alley was quite spacious, ten meters wide, and stretched through the entire block, like a frozen artery of the city.
We had only gone a few steps when the door slammed behind us. A man in a striped sleeveless shirt appeared in the doorway. He was thin, with an elongated skull, a well-defined chin, and small eyes behind narrow glasses. Involuntarily, his gaze lingered on the number "3", which stood out on his combed hair.
I wanted to pull the captain's sleeve and convince him to leave faster, ignoring the stranger, but he remained in place, squinting as if assessing the stranger.
The situation was complicated by a short girl who came out of the door after him. She looked like a teenager, no more than a meter and a half tall. Blue and white striped tights, big brown shoes, a red skirt, a blue shirt with clouds and a baby face created the image of a strange child who seemed to be lost.
The captain took one last look at them, then waved his hand, clearly deciding that there was no danger. We continued on our way, but the tension wouldn't leave me. As soon as we took a couple of steps, there was a crash behind us.
Looking back, I saw an avalanche of thick wax gushing right at us, threatening to flood everything around us. The captain reacted with lightning speed — he burst into one of the buildings. I jumped up, grabbed the edge of the roof and climbed up. The avalanche swept past, flowing back to Mr. 3, who now looked much more serious. His gaze followed me closely, despite the relaxed expression on his face.
Not wanting to get involved in a protracted battle, I took aim and imitated the sound of a shot. An air bullet hit his shoulder, cutting through the fabric. He screamed, immediately erecting a wax wall, covering himself.
The fight died down for a moment. I took advantage of the break to light a match and teleport to the roof of the building where the captain was heading. Judging by his temper, he was probably already running towards the ship.
As soon as I was on the roof, a lump of wax flew out of the wax wall, rushing towards me at high speed. I dodged and then took a look back. Mr. 3 was now encased in a spherical wax shell about two meters in diameter. His face was visible in the center of the ball, slightly pale from the wound, but still focused.
Without giving him a chance to attack again, I faked a shot, but he quickly closed the hole in his sphere. Immediately after that, several more lumps of wax flew out of the ball, hissing from contact with the surface. Dodging them, I lit a match. The flame became huge and, having acquired the shape of a ball, rushed to the wax shell.
While the flame was melting the sphere, Mr. 3 hurriedly repaired the walls with wax, trying to suppress the fire. The situation was tense.
As soon as the captain looked at me, I signaled him to step back. After a moment's hesitation, he returned to the building, gesturing briefly toward the ship. Understanding his hint, I turned my attention back to the sphere of wax. I wasn't going to kill Mr. 3: our plan to rescue Ace still needed to be finalized, and allies—even those like those Mugiwara could bring—could be useful.
When the captain disappeared, the enemy did not take long to wait. The sphere shook, and streams of wax flew out of its walls, spreading over the nearest roofs and forming bridges. Then, figures began to emerge from the collapsing shell, one after the other. They looked exactly identical to Mr. 3, right down to the bandage on his shoulder. As soon as the last figure left the sphere, the shell melted, leaving the original standing in the center of its copies. The figures rushed forward, synchronously, as if they were parts of a single mechanism.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Obviously, during this stunt, Mr. 3 refrained from actively using his powers in order not to give himself away. Turning on my spiritual vision, I immediately figured out the original. Pretending to aim at one of the clones, I abruptly changed the target and fired. The air bullet hit the real one's thigh with gusto. He jerked, screamed, and immediately created another wax sphere around himself, hoping to gain time.
Without waiting for any more tricks, I dashed towards the ship. This time there was no pursuit. When I got to the port, I stopped, breathing a little heavily. Against the background of the measured lapping of the waves and the receding hubbub of the city, it was strange to see the ship already at sea. His sails were moving slowly, as if they were adjusting to the rhythm of the wind.
I noticed that only Will was left on the dock. He was sitting on a small box and was in no hurry to get up. As I approached, he lazily looked up at me, and then glanced over my shoulder, as if expecting to see someone else.
"The captain said to wait for you here," he explained matter—of—factly. "If you hadn't come before the others returned, we would have sailed."
There was no hint of doubt in his voice. This made me ask,
"Aren't you afraid that he would have sailed without us?"
Will shook his head, as if grinning at my naivety. Then he raised his hand to show that he was holding a log-pos.
"He left it with me." He won't get far without it.
I nodded silently, remembering that the captain had recently bought several international posts. Perhaps Will doubted that the captain would not abandon us. I didn't care too much about that—staying here wouldn't be such a big disaster.
After waiting for everyone to return, we boarded the boats and headed for the ship. The water seemed viscous, the waves rocked us gently, and the oars made rhythmic splashes. The team was furiously discussing some kind of game, as I understood it, they managed to play and win money in poker. By this time, the sky had already begun to be covered with gray clouds and the sun had almost set below the horizon, but no one was in a hurry — it was still a long way from rain.
The captain met us on board, standing near the mast. He was still the same: straight posture, slightly narrowed eyes, gaze sliding somewhere beyond the horizon. Just now, for some reason, he looked a little more collected than usual. Heh, I'm worried. He's probably thinking that I'm mad at him.
I didn't focus on it. As I helped unload the boat, I thought about the fact that I hadn't been able to find out in the city if Mr. 3 had managed to escape. Judging by everything, I won't meet him on the way in the near future, which means that this issue can be left for now.
When the unloading was over, I went up to the captain with Will. He was already waiting for us, standing by the stairs leading to the cabin.
—Let's go," he said shortly, and without waiting, he turned around to go down first.
When I entered the cabin, Will habitually took his place by the door, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed, as if he didn't care. The captain was sitting at the table, but now there was more emotion in his gaze than I expected. They were mixed: curiosity, slight tension, and something else that resembled a barely noticeable satisfaction.
"You've shown yourself to be a reliable nakama today," I didn't have time to be surprised by his choice of words, as he continued, "Perhaps you should know where we're going."
He paused, as if checking my reaction, then asked a question.:
— Do you know the story of Mont Blanc Noland?
I strained my memory, remembering the legend of the man who got on Skype. I nodded, and he continued:
— His story is not a lie. The island exists. It's full of treasures. You just need to get there. Do you know how to do this?
—No," I replied, hiding my knowledge of the canon.
He smiled and said mysteriously:
"I know." If we can carry out my plan, then we won't have to take risks, rob or search for Van Pease. This island is our ticket to a life that we can only dream of. Are you with us?
I was thinking. It was hardly difficult, but Annel and his influence made the task deadly. However, it was always possible to stay here or jump off the ship.
—Yes," I said shortly.
- great! His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. — Now we are sailing to Mock Town. That's where I'll tell you the plan.