Meat.
That's what it took.
Not potions. Not bandages. Not divine intervention.
Just meat. And sleep. Lots of it.
Nox awoke buried in a fortress of bones and half licked plates, sprawled across a straw mattress like a corpse who died halfway through chewing.
His body?
Tight. Heavy. Alive.
Muscles itched like they wanted a fight.
Bruises gone. Cuts faded. Just one shoulder still stiff a stubborn souvenir from Red Tooth's mace.
"You awake, devil boy?" Bragga's voice cut through the haze. "I was starting to think I'd have to bury you next to my goat."
Nox sat up with a groan, hair stuck to his face, horn throbbing like it had its own pulse. He rolled his neck. It popped like fireworks.
"Still hurts," he muttered, stretching. "So I guess I'm still real."
Bragga snorted. "You ate us damn near bankrupt, Devil boy., you're getting off this island follow me."
The docks swayed gently underfoot.
The sea whispered. Gulls shrieked. And tied to the last pier was a battered old sailboat that looked like it had lost several fights to the weather.
Peeling paint. Mismatched wood. One sad sail patched with bedsheets.
But it floated.
Mostly.
Bragga handed him something small and weighty.
A Log Pose. Scarred. Faintly buzzing.
"Points to Spider Miles," Bragga said. "Follow it and try not to die."
Nox stared at it. "That's the second time you've said that."
"Not the last."
The townsfolk had left things in the boat bundles of dried fish, a satchel stuffed with patched tools, a chipped lantern, and a blanket stitched from half a dozen old shirts.
On the inner wall, someone had carved:
"Good Luck, Horns."
He stood there for a moment. Just long enough for the breeze to bite and the reality to sink in.
This was it.
His first ship. His first heading.
... thump.
The barrel at the back of the boat wobbled.
Nox raised a brow.
"No," he growled.
He cracked the lid and glared down into a pair of wide, grinning eyes.
Lenny.
Spooning a jar of pickles like it was treasure.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain!" he beamed. "I brought snacks!"
Nox dragged him out by the collar.
"DENIED."
The kid flailed. "Wait! I'm small! I eat little! I can cook!"
"You'll die in a week."
Bragga caught the squirming boy with a sigh as Nox chucked him back onto the dock.
Lenny landed in a heap, still clutching the jar of pickles like a lifeline.
"Please!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet. "I can help! I can! I'll be useful, I swear! You need a crew, right?! What's a captain without a crew?"
Nox planted one foot on the side of the boat, arms crossed. "What I need is to not be babysitting a twelve year old halfway through a storm."
"I'm thirteen!" Lenny barked.
"Even worse. A seasoned liability."
Lenny stomped. "You said I was brave!"
"I also said you'd die in a week."
"But ..."
"Kid," Nox said, softer now. Still firm. "Stay. Watch the island. Help your old man. Someone needs to hold the line here."
Lenny's face fell.
"You think I can't fight like you," he muttered.
"I think you've got time to learn. But not on this boat. Not today."
The silence hit harder than the waves.
Then slowly… Lenny looked up. Bit his lip. Gave one final, grudging nod.
"I'll protect them," he said. Voice small, but steady. "I'll keep Yaba safe. Just like you did."
Nox blinked.
He didn't smile. But the corner of his mouth twitched, just once.
"Good," he said. "Then I don't have to worry about this place."
Lenny straightened. Lifted his chin.
"Next time we meet, you better be ready.
'Cause I'm gonna be stronger. Strong enough to make you take me with you."
Nox turned without answering.
Then he turned and froze.
The entire town had gathered at the edge of the dock.
Fishermen. Vendors. Kids. Dogs. Even the guy who nearly had a heart attack at the squid stand.
"HEY! DON'T YOU DARE DIE, HORNHEAD!"
"IF YOU FIND GOLD, WE WANT A CUT!"
"TAKE A BATH NEXT TIME, YOU STINKY DEVIL!"
"THE SQUID GUY STILL WANTS HIS BUCKET BACK!"
One woman threw a flower.
Another tried to toss a loaf of bread and hit a kid instead.
A pair of old men waved fishing rods like banners, and someone in the back had built a tiny flag with a badly drawn version of his horns stitched into it.
They laughed. They hollered. They cheered.
A chorus of chaos and strange affection.
Nox stared.
Something twisted in his chest not pain, not pride. Just… warmth. Sharp and stupid.
And then he laughed.
Loud Raw Honest.
He waved both arms like a lunatic.
"Yeah, yeah, alright! I'll miss you ugly bastards too!"
"DON'T COME BACK BROKE!" someone yelled.
"I WON'T!" he roared, already turning to the sea.
He stepped into the boat.
Untied the rope.
The wind caught the sail like a punch to the ribs, yanking the whole thing sideways.
"WHOA—HEY—NO—STEER—STEERING?!"
He tripped, caught the mast, nearly fell off.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Environment Change Detected]
[Navigation Skill Tree Node Unlocked: "Basic Seamanship"]
[NEW SIDE QUEST ACQUIRED: "Try Not to Drown"]
Objective: Survive your first solo voyage without sinking, starving, or dying stupidly. Reward: +1 Navigation EXP | +1 INT
"I HATE YOU," Nox shouted at the sky, flailing as the boat lurched violently into open water.
⸻
The office was dim, lit by the red haze of forge smoke bleeding through cracked glass. Metal groaned. Something screamed below. No one cared.
Spider Miles. If the world had a sewer, this was where it drained.
In the center of the room, surrounded by scattered reports and blueprints for failed weapons, sat Lao G hunched, silent, his muscles twitching with restrained fury.
A black shelled Den Den Mushi on the desk chirped awake. Its eyes drooped. Its voice trembled with static.
"…Repeat, this is Outpost Yaba. Perimeter breached. Captain Red Tooth is down. Repeat: Red Tooth is dead. Entire crew down."
The snail's jaw clenched. A static burst crackled through its lips.
"Single hostile. Horned. Tall. Name confirmed… Wil D. Nox. D. as in..."
CRRRRRK.
KRRRRSHHHK!
The transmission snapped. The snail
slumped.
Silence fell.
Lao G didn't move.
Not at first.
Then slowly he stood. Bones cracked like thunder. Veins pulsed along his neck. His body slid into a low martial arts stance, arms coiled, one hand trembling with anticipation.
"…Red Tooth," he said at last, voice like stone dragged over rusted wire. "You disgrace. You shameful, untrained, skull cracked disgrace."
He popped a squat. Muscles flared. The floor creaked under him.
"He was MY student. Weak as piss, but loyal."
Another snap. His back cracked in five places.
Then, from the side shelf, a second Den Den Mushi awoke.
This one was different.
Its shell was pink.
Feathered.
Its eyelids lazily opened behind black
sunglasses. Its lip curled into a wide, hungry grin.
And from its mouth came that voice.
"Fufufufufu…"
"So that cursed name resurfaces again."
Lao G froze.
Then bowed, low and sharp, still in a combat stance.
"…Joker."
The Den Den Mushi chuckled like silk over razors.
"Yaba was expendable. Red Tooth even more so. But a Devil on our doorstep? Now that's interesting."
"Tell me, Lao G… did he really kill them all alone?"
"…Yes."
Lao G's eyes flared.
"No backup. No reinforcements. He tore them apart."
The snail's grin widened.
"A carrier of the Will of D. that doesn't follow orders. That doesn't beg for a cause. That simply fights. How nostalgic."
"Do nothing… for now."
Lao G flinched. "Nothing?"
"Let him come."
"Let him crawl into our web."
"I want to see if the Devil bleeds."
click
The transmission ended. The snail slept again.
Lao G slowly rose. Fire danced across his shoulders.
"Then let's prepare the welcome."
His smile twisted, a G-Style grin made of murder.
"I'll break him in half… and pose while I do it."