[Episode] Corruption of Blood

Quest Information:

A sliver of morning light broke in, filtered red through the thin edges of embroidered curtains. Acacia's eyelids argued with the punctual rays. They insisted on remaining shut just five more minutes, and another five, and another, but, the sun's argument was unyielding.

Acacia rolled out of the cushy mattress with a hoarse groan. A dark fleece blanket slid off his bare skin lazily. It clung to his thin waist until a shake of the hips sent it to the carpeted floor.

He pressed a finger to his forehead to magic-wand away a throbbing hangover. When that trick failed, he drowned the headache with a deep swig from a demijohn of Ilisian Red.  The warm and sweet liquid washed down the buildup of nightly cough and lit a furnace in his belly. There were few better cures for the symptoms of too much booze than one more bottle of booze.

He tossed the drained vessel into the indent he had left in the bed. It did not stir the other undressed body resting on it. Thick blonde hair veiled the woman's pale, tattooed back. The same tattoos—coiling green serpents and purple chains—spread like an infection along her thin arms, over her wide hips, and down to the back of her knees.

The blonde had a blanket matching Acacia's pincered between her legs with one end clutched within a loose fist. The spiky-haired drunk's crimson gaze traced the young woman's curvaceous outline.

He could not recall the touch of her flawless skin nor the sound of her moans - were they soothing or grating? The previous night was a half-solved mystery like most nights before it.

He lifted a crusty sheet of paper off the dresser and strained to identify a barely familiar face printed on it. 'Black Seed' Acacia, wanted for treason, mass murder, destruction of government property... and a plethora of other charges he could not be bothered to read. The hundred-and-ten million belly bounty placed upon him was rather generous for his first, he thought.

He crumpled the wrinkled poster and peeked through the curtains to hurl it out of the window. Filth of a hundred kinds and one littered the narrow streets below; what was one piece more?

Uncountable pillars of black smoke stemmed from buildings tall and short. In a distant alley, Acacia could see three shaded figures punching and kicking a smaller one. In another, he could see a congregation of hooded vagrants, with one proselytizing on a crate.

The city of Durban was dilapidated; one could watch it sink into a nightmarish sludge of piracy and corruption by the hour. The shoddy bits of information Acacia had picked up through his inebriated torpor implied the island's king as the culprit behind its depraved state.

As his mind wandered to kings of more familiar islands, his thumb unconsciously caressed the golden band around his ring finger, while his other hand went to fiddle with his locket only to find it missing.

He panicked.

Short breaths and a cold sweat overwhelmed him. His head swung side to side as his unsteady eyes scanned the dim room for an acquainted silver shine.

"Where the hell is it?!"

His alarm snapped the woman awake with a gasp. He stampeded closer, ripped her covers, and jerked her to her feet. The blonde's arms instinctively shielded her unmentionables.

"Where... is... my... locket?!" Acacia specified.

Accusation riddled every word.

The girl lifted a finger. Her amber eyes quivered behind a layer of liquid. She pointed to a padded oaken chair in the corner. His attire from the day before was folded neatly on it. A katana with a lavender grip and scabbard leaned against the same chair. Atop the clothes was a thick chain with a single sterling silver wing hanging at its end.

Acacia sighed and stepped away from the undeserving victim of his outburst.

"Get out."

The woman retrieved her folded apparel off the floor and started to dress.

"Now."

She walked out wearing only a white faux-silk button-up with rolled-up sleeves and a thin pair of maroon panties with floral patterns.

"You're an asshole," she declared, standing in the hallway holding her dark jeans, cavalier hat, and knee-high boots.

Acacia mumbled to himself, for she did not wait for him to agree.

OOC notes for @Yumiko:

---

Acacia wandered along a muddy road in a haze. His only destination was a state of intoxication from which he would never escape. He indulged in a bottle of absinthe gripped in one hand and a smoking blunt pinched in the other.

He coughed and blew a devil-may-care cloud at nothing in particular. The whites of his eyes were near as red as his irises - veiny and revolting. Yet his gait was steady and sober—though just a bit listless—in defiance of his inebriety.

A woman's scream blew out from within a shoddy hut by the road. A toddler's howls followed. Acacia did not stop.

A small girl in rags dashed across the street being chased by a livid baker yelling bloody murder. Acacia walked on.

Two teenage boys quarrelled and wrestled in an alley leading to the bowels of the city. They drew his attention for no longer than a heartbeat.

He heard three gunshots discharged from a hole-in-the-wall pawn shop. A goggled red-haired half-corpse riddled with three matching holes in his shirt fumbled out. The fool ate dirt with an absurd and clueless smile. Acacia gave him a wide berth.

Before he reached the ocean, he spotted a bony, wrinkled beggar with a crescent spine calling out in pain. Surely he would soon be dead anyway.

His stroll through the stages of life in Durban led him to a filthy wharf. Moss crawled up the poles and infested the pier's mouldering planks. A docked marine blue ship cast a giant shadow over and around him, consuming all other shadows.

The sky behind the ship's mast was pink like a bruise on the mend. A hopeful philosopher might have seen it as a sign of better times to come. Acacia was neither hopeful nor a philosopher.

His two companions—Mr. Hooch and Ms. Mary Jane—had forsaken him by then. He approached a dock-side teriyaki stall - cannabis tends to stimulate one's appetite. Teriyaki for breakfast was an adventure of its own.

The stall owner assessed Acacia critically. He wore a stained wife-beater and loose trousers. His dark moustache endeavoured to mask the hive-like blemishes on his cheeks and jaws.

Acacia's outfit seemed almost touristy in comparison. A white crew-neck shirt with the words "You can't drink all day unless you start in the morning" in a lazy font, khaki cargo shorts and sandals, and a black hoodie—fully unzipped—festooned with prints of white wings. His precious wing-shaped locket hung bravely off a chain around his neck.

"Come, come. How many sticks do ya want, feller?" Asked the moustached man with unexpected energy. Acacia glanced at the pile of half-cooked chicken cuts and the bowls of brown sauces resting next to a low flame.

"Four."

"That'll be hundred-twenty belly." The cook raised the flame and stabbed a faux-wooden skewer into the heap of chicken, expertly piercing it through six or seven pieces. He repeated this three more times and laid the skewers on the grill before generously pouring sauce on them.

While his hands worked, his tongue worked harder.

"These useless fuckin' marines, I tell ya. They come and go every other week and don't do diddly squat." He flipped the skewers on the grill one by one.

"They don't give two shits what happens to this country so long as they get their two belly. Folks been goin' missin', children been goin' hungry, thugs been roamin' free - but they look the other way."

Acacia looked over at the marine ship behind him. An officer barked illegible orders to his drones.

"They might as well be goddamned mercenaries. Our good King Eric feeds silver to their pockets, and they feed our city to the wolves."

Acacia exchanged a few small bills for his first skewer and included payment in advance for the rest.

"Looks like they're about to parade through town. Special occasion?" Acacia asked with scant traces of interest. He bit into the sauced meat. Its hot and tender strings warmed the insides of his cheeks.

"I heard they're escortin' some big shot. I dunno more'n that." The teriyaki-man placed the remaining sticks in an old newspaper page and presented it to his red-eyed customer.

"Alls I can tell's that somethin' big's about to happen at the castle when they execute those poor fools today."

"Execute?" Acacia cocked a brow.

"You ain't heard? They caught a few of 'em rebels. Eric's gonna put 'em down at noon." His words were down to whispers.

"There's an underground resistance on the island that's tryin' to free Durban and overthrow the king. They ain't havin' much luck, though."

Acacia shrugged and turned away. "This city seems beyond saving. Good luck with your resistance, old man."

The troop of marines marched off the docks with their escortee and into the city.

A whim to spend his day doing something besides drinking and whoring struck him like a bat to the head. He found himself trailing after the naval escort towards the castle, curious to spectate a Durban-style execution. Is that why the marines are here?

The fact that Acacia himself was a wanted man had slipped his mind entirely.

OOC notes for @Yumiko:

---

A hulking figure and a lanky one wandered through an ostentatious archway. Two rows of nutcracker-like soldiers escorted a pair of shackled, haunted faces behind them. Tattered white rags barely covered the prisoners' bruised and scarred skin. Intricate tattoos of green serpents and purple chains peeked through the rips in their vestments.

"You know, Garobu, I'll never understand why these morons insist on marking up their bodies. It's like they want us to catch them." A voice high as if on a canister of helium came out of the lumbering man leading the troop. Despite the laughable contradiction between the pitch of his vocals and the dimensions of his frame, none laughed. They knew better.

King Eric was a bag of fat with a dangerous helping of muscle. His long dark hair contrasted his pale skin, and his unruly moustache forked at the ends. His royal garb consisted of a purple tunic and a gold-trimmed cloak which snugly wrapped his shoulders. A baroque crown with twisted prongs sat tilted on his head, clinging to him as if in love. He loved the crown back much more.

"Symbols are powerful tools that unite people under a cause, King Eric. I wouldn't dismiss them so casually," warned the thin man walking beside the king. Scars from burns, bites, and cuts riddled his patchy brown skin. Two violent rings spun in his ghostly blue eyes—which blinked uncomfortably long as if there was something stuck in them.

"I'm not complaining. If the traitors want to charge into a spear, it's my royal duty to hold it up for them." The portly king squeaked and wheezed an awkward laugh. No one else laughed with him (or at him).

A disorderly crowd had gathered in the vast castle courtyard. The monuments to wealth—the statues, the fountain, the garden—were now tainted by the stink of poverty. But, the message King Eric meant to deliver was worth inviting rats into his home; for it was a message the rats would spread like the plague.

One more "rat" meandered into the castle grounds behind a pack of dogs in white and blue. When Acacia had realized tailing the marines would lead him to the Fortress of Durban, he had expected to be halted at the gates. And he was. Only the Marines were allowed in without a thorough patting and the surrender of their weapons.

An unhealthy curiosity born of boredom had ensnared Acacia, but it was not enough for him to part with his Meito - even temporarily. When he was sure no eyes were on him, he removed the katana from his hip and slowly sunk it into his chest. His body shifted around the object, like dough being kneaded, and enveloped the sword. The rest was easy.

Past the invasive security scans, the mob under the execution platform had swollen like an infected bladder. Mumbles and gossip sailed through the crowd in waves. "The rebels will retaliate", "the rebels will surrender", "the rebels are already dead" - there was no consistency to the rumours surrounding the status of the rebels.

Acacia hung around the fringes of the gathering. Without invitation, a small elderly woman with a round face spoke to him. Her skin was wrinkled as a mole's, and her eyelids were so droopy he could barely see what was under them. She had tied her candy pink hair in a bun, with not even a hint of grey showing through.

"The rebels will suffer a severe blow today if this execution proceeds." Her voice shook worse than her unsteady head. "The men they're about to kill are key figures in the resistance." From the corners of his eyes, Acacia looked down at the woman half his size. "Why're you telling me this, lady?"

A mechanical smile bent her peeling lips. "I can see how your heart aches for the misery on this island." Acacia's head cranked towards her before he slipped into a sneering guffaw. "You have no idea how wrong you are. I couldn't care less what happens to any man, woman, or child in this world, let alone this fucking island."

The smile—which seemed to claim its owner knew every secret in the world—did not erase itself from the mysterious elder. "Sometimes, the easiest person for you to fool is yourself. Are you not here in this pit of despair to punish yourself? Heeheeheeheeheehee~" Her snicker was akin to a teenage girl flirting with her crush. Acacia had no response.

The cheers and jeers of the audience flooded the courtyard when the entertainers made their entrance. Ominous steps up to the platform foreshadowed a grim and grisly fate awaiting the captive insurgents.

A large and ugly man in royal garb—whom Acacia assumed to be Durban's King—climbed a smaller platform assembled atop the larger. He cleared his throat before speaking into a loudspeaker snail with the thinnest voice Acacia had ever heard. Acacia's explosive reaction was immediately silenced by a violent glare from the natives around him, lest it won the speaker's attention.

"Complaints."

A pause muted all other voices.

"Every living thing in this world has the capacity to complain. A complaint can either be fair or unfair. A complaint can be heard or ignored. Each one of you, my beloved citizens, has the right to complain. There is a right way to complain, and a wrong way." The king's gaze turned to the convicts who now kneeled between two hooded executioners carrying ceremonial axes.

"These two before you today chose the wrong way." The sinister words somehow cut like broken glass despite the ridiculous voice speaking them.

"The rebellion is nothing more than a murder of crows cawing and crying over the chaos necessary for Durban to progress and become stronger. Remember, people, suffering breeds success. Today, when I kill papa crow here, the cawing will end.  Although these traitors deserve to be crucified like those monsters who laughed at me two years ago, I have decided to be merciful today and grant them swift ends."

Files of King Eric's brutes had corralled the crowd into submission pre-emptively. Although murmurs responded to the ruler's speech, none were loud enough to reach him.

"Let this be the final warning to all those who insist on complaining the wrong way." He nodded at the executioners, who raised their axes, ready to lop the heads off of their quarries. No charges were read, and not even their names were announced.

"What a farce," Acacia grumbled.

A gust of wind blew across the castle, raising the black hairs on Acacia's arms. Within a single blink, the executioners collapsed mid-swing, foaming at the mouth.

Confusion and panic followed.

OOC notes for @Yumiko:

---

The execution's spectators erupted into a chaotic frenzy like ants flooded out of an anthill. An ear-splitting screech ripped through the crowd. "DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!!!!" The savage king's face puffed like a blowfish and reddened worse than ripe tomatoes. Indignation spoiled his face - if spoiling a hairy rock were even possible.

"Throw them all into the dungeons!" King Eric squawked. The marine forces entered the fray to try and strong-arm the fringes of the audience. Meanwhile, the ugly merc-like castle guards prodded the front lines with pointed spears.

Acacia surrendered himself to the frantic wave of citizens with a loathsome groan. He did not resist its currents until his eyes fell upon a familiar face for the briefest of moments—the blonde with whom he had spent the previous night.

Throughout the morning, a thought had stewed in the back of his mind. Lingering but never revealing its face.

Why does she feel so familiar? The answer was obvious, though he did not care to admit it to himself.

She looks so much like her... Her golden locks, amber eyes, porcelain skin, and sharp face were all too similar to someone from his past. But, the resemblance did not strike home until he caught a glimpse of her true identity.

The dainty blonde slapped a repugnant guard with her cavalier hat, disorienting him just enough for her powerful shin to meet his neck. The crowd around her gasped and receded. A few more thug-turned-soldiers filled the gap and surrounded her.

Acacia tried to wade closer, but the horrified flock was too stubborn to let him go his way without excessive force. The mob carried him to its boundaries. He was uncomfortably close to a handful of disconcerted marines. Being identified by the Navy in that chaos would have only added fuel to a growing flame.

The two shackled captives on the garish execution platform were on their feet. Their defiant glares pierced King Eric. The dictator rolled his meaty fists into a ball and shifted as if he were about to charge. The ruckus spawned by several unexpected gunshots urged him to reconsider. He swiftly retreated beyond the keep gate at the behest of his scarred companion.

Acacia spotted five cloaked riflemen with smoking muskets kneeling on the battlements of the far wall. They fired again, managing to drop perhaps two of the brutes encircling the blonde aggressor. It was near impossible to tell through the moving crowd, even if Acacia was tall enough to look down on the crowns of most heads.

Two more cloaked intruders struck down the guards near the platform. One of the prisoners turned to the crowd and shouted. "The resistance endures to fight for a free Durban! Wake up, my brothers and sisters!" The audience quieted briefly. "Our families and future generations deserve to live in a country where the air itself doesn't strangle them. Rise with us and bring Eric's tyranny to an end!" The middle-aged speaker panted as he climbed off the makeshift stage. His eyes were sunken and the hair on his face was shaggy and unkempt. No doubt Eric's hospitality was as unpleasant as the rest of him.

The intruders guided their rescuees through the ocean of bodies. Luckily for them, said ocean parted as if on command to form an unobstructed path leading to the courtyard gate. Acacia tracked the blonde woman as she sprinted out. Four of the guards managed to give chase. One chucked his spear like a javelin, grazing the woman's arm. The injury failed to slow her.

Acacia's head had cleared just enough to allow a timely decision. He knew then he would regret letting the familiar blonde slip away, never to be seen again. A rash action was in order if he wished to keep up.

He pulled an arm back and punched the air. His fist did not stop at the end of his arm. The limb stretched into a goopy white substance until it connected his shoulder to the top of the gate. The sheeple around him gawked with their jaws on the ground.

Acacia did not stick around long enough to see them settle on an explanation for the oddity they had witnessed. The white substance contracted and slingshotted him over the gate to a watchtower across from it. The clock struck eight.

The pursuers of the escaped rebels shouted angry obscenities as they ran down the street. The spiky-haired stalker dropped down and followed. Acacia's torso once again turned to a dough-like goop when he dug into his chest and pulled out a katana in a lavender sheath.

"Sure-kill technique..." He chanted as his left hand gripped the hilt of the sword and his right its scabbard.

"...Longwood Blues!"

A gust trailed his blinding charge, which ended just past the surprised guardsmen. His blade reflected the morning sunlight, dressed with the blood of his four victims.

Acacia's gaze intersected with the blonde woman's only for a second when she noted his assault. She did not seem to care for a reunion. Instead, she turned down an alley behind her comrades. Without wasting a single breath, he resumed his pursuit.

As he hurried down the alley, he could hear one or two pairs of feathery footsteps dashing behind him. His hangover had not spared him enough to permit the use of kenbunshoku. So, he stopped in his tracks at a lonely and claustrophobic alley crossing and spun around to face the hounds.

The panicked ringing of a massive bell started in the direction of the castle.

---

Heavy steps thudded through a stone corridor. A shrill voice followed.

[npc=pirt]"Why did you stop me, Garobu?! I was seconds away from ending this annoying rebellion once and for all!"[/npc] King Eric squealed. He turned and loomed over his shorter companion.

Garobu blinked unnervingly long.

[npc=pirt]"You were seconds away from dying from a rebel's bullet."[/npc] The thin man hissed.

King Eric leaned in and puffed up his already menacing frame. His crown shifted over his head.

Garobu did not budge an inch.

[npc=pirt]"Don't think I'll let you get away with puppeteering me just because you work for that beast,"[/npc] Eric growled and continued to walk. Several nutcracker soldiers followed them silently.

[npc=pirt]"You misunderstand me, King Eric. My intention wasn't to control you - it was only to protect you. The last thing my master would want is for something to happen to a valued business partner."[/npc] One would be hard-pressed to guess if the words were genuine or a veiled threat.

[npc=pirt]"HAH!"[/npc] King Eric's shriek made the soldiers twitch. [npc=pirt]"Feed your horseshit to someone else. I'm no fool. I'd be surprised if your master even knew my name."[/npc]

Garobu did not comment.

King Eric grinned, pleased with himself. Two of his yellow teeth were solid gold.

[npc=pirt]"Guards, someone go get my precious fiancée from those useless marines!"[/npc] He barked.

A soldier bowed and detached from the troop to find a particular barrel of a captain.



Acacia paused his pursuit of the rebel escapees to confront the strangely nasal voice attempting to arrest him. He unsheathed Nidai Kitetsu smoothly as he turned. A poor decision, as he would no doubt realize.

A short woman dressed in what looked to be a kimono challenged him. Acacia's guard dropped when he noticed the clothespin pinching her nose. He had seen ladies wear bizarre accessories before, but this was a first.

[plyr=misc]"Who the hell are you?"[/plyr] He asked with a callous frown.

The longhaired swordswoman didn't look at all like one of King Eric's brutish goons. Yet, she struck familiar somehow. He would've bet his next bottle of hooch he had seen her somewhere recently.

[plyr=misc]"Wait... Did we sleep together?"[/plyr]

The previous few nights had melded together into an undecipherable mess. Tactless as it may have been, it was better just to ask. Perhaps the woman's memory was sharper than his. Though he hoped it wasn't sharp enough to cut.

Little did he know he had followed her and her comrades (some might call that stalker-ish behaviour) through town that very morning—comrades who, unlike her, wore a uniform far more recognizable.

Meanwhile, a raggedy red-haired man lingered near the encounter. He stood atop a roof overlooking the filthy alley with his hands deep in his pockets. A faint confident smile upturned his stubbled mouth.

[npc=gnrl]"Found you."[/npc]

---

The mob in the castle grounds fumbled within itself like a flock of sheep alarmed by ravenous wolves. Part of the crowd dove into the castle gate to breach the iron bars. Most of them would have assumed the effort was futile.

They would have been wrong.

[npc=misc]"I feel stronger all of a sudden!"[/npc] shouted a citizen as he struggled against the grates.

[npc=misc]"Me too!"[/npc] cried another.

The consensus among them was they all felt invigorated and mighty beyond their limits.

A keen ear might have heard the mischievous [npc=gnrl]"Heeheehee~"[/npc] of a pink-haired wrinkly lady relishing the miracle at play.

The gate warped under the weight of the horde until it shattered through its stone housing and fell. The thunderous clamour of the fall marked a crucial moment in Durban's history. But, only a select few understood its significance at the time.

The citizens poured out of the courtyard and fled to safety. King Eric's wrath had yet to follow, for he had not realized some insolent curs were impolitely spiriting away his prized maiden to add insult to injury.

Elsewhere, a spiky-haired swordsman reeking of booze and blunts confronted a long-haired swordswoman with queer tastes in accessories.

[plyr=misc]"Gama da what now? 'No you may go'? Samurai--why are you even chasing me?"[/plyr] Acacia asked.

His gears turned to process her gibberish. He had heard of the mysterious swordmasters of Wano Country, but he could not imagine what business one of them might have had with him.

Acacia grunted impatiently when the strange bird continued her incomprehensible nasal chirps.

[plyr=misc]"I can't understand you. If you're not gonna take that stupid thing off your nose and talk like a normal fucking person, I'm leaving. I don't have time to waste on you,"[/plyr] he snarled. Acacia was sure by then they could never have slept together. He had sunk into depravity, not stupidity.

He turned to continue his pursuit, but his gut promised the self-proclaimed samurai would follow.

The chase ended prematurely.

A scruffy red-haired individual stood firm in their path. The stranger wore a child-like smile with his eyes shut.  A pair of goggles sat snugly just above his brows. Acacia could not detect even the slightest trace of hostility from the man. And yet, his legs failed to advance.

[npc=gnrl]"Grimm Aldous Acacia. We've been looking for you,"[/npc] the waylayer said.

Acacia's hair stood on end when he heard that name.

Before he could react, the stranger vanished from sight. The next moment, an incoming blackened fist obscured Acacia's vision as it crushed his nose and smashed into his face.

The red-haired man punched Acacia into the ground.

With his smile undiminished, the man approached the samurai. Not a single step betrayed aggression despite his action seconds before.

[npc=gnrl]"Kamaitachi no Yumiko-san, wasn't it? I am called Price. Please excuse the uncordial invitation, but I need the pair of you to come with me,"[/npc] he said as he brought down a swift, decisive chop to the back of the woman's neck.

Acacia slipped into a forced dream as his faculties departed - the last thing he saw was the pesky maiden's face.

---

[npc=navy]"He's almost here, Aka-chan! We have to keep the civilians out of his way,"[/npc] yelled a familiar voice.

Acacia failed to respond. His legs stayed in place as if held by a vice. Every instinct detained him from cooperating with his partner. What good could any of them do against the impending calamity?

[npc=navy]"Aka-chan! HURRY!"[/npc]

The colour drained from his skin as his feet turned away. [plyr=navy]"We can't protect them, Briar. We can barely save ourselves. That thing can't be stopped."[/plyr] He felt the despairing gazes of their charges boring a hole into his heart of stone.

[npc=navy]"We're not trying to stop him! We just need to help stall him until they get far enough away."[/npc]

[plyr=navy]"Nowhere is far enough for them! They'll never ma--"[/plyr] A fierce roar in the distance interrupted him, chased by a blast so hot it singed their skins even miles away.

[plyr=navy]"Let's go!"[/plyr] He shouted before darting away from the doombringer. He did not notice his partner had stayed behind until it was too late.

Darkness passed before his eyes until he found himself standing amidst a firing squad with nine other riflemen aiming at his partner. A murky smile sat on her mud-stained face.

The deafening volley shook him awake. Faint murmurs turned to audible voices as his sight returned, clouded though it was.

[npc=navy]"Do you have any idea how chaotic it is out there? Eric's acting like an army's attacked him or something like that,"[/npc] barked a white blob accented in dark blue.

[npc=gnrl]"Technically speaking, that is what happened,"[/npc] said another blob, thinner with a red point.

[npc=navy]"This isn't the time for you to be clowning around or whatever. Don't you realize the awkward position you've put me in? It was all I could do to get away from my men. You should've waited until the princess was out of our hands before you abducted her and so forth."[/npc]

The clouds lifted one after the other. The white and blue blob transformed into a marine captain as if stains on a wall were slowly coming to life. Acacia's gaze lowered to his chest. The locket was still there. [plyr=misc]Good.[/plyr]

[npc=misc]"Luther and Wallace would've had their heads chopped off by then! It isn't our fault you got here so late!"[/npc] The defence came from a familiar face - the blonde with the cavalier hat. A flat hand slapping a small table emphasized her discontent.

Acacia shifted his limbs until they felt unexpected pressure. The clanking of chains informed him of his condition. Both he and the strange samurai woman were shackled to metal chairs fixed next to each other.

[npc=navy]"It's been a tightrope act - helping you fools while convincing Eric, my superiors, and my men I'm following orders or something like that. What were you thinking bringing her here? She's been the biggest pain in my ass since hemorrhoids or whatever,"[/npc] the marine captain argued, gesturing towards the samurai. That she could be a marine hadn't even crossed Acacia's mind.

[npc=gnrl]"What can I say? I have a soft spot for determined soldiers. I don't think she would've let me take him away without a fight."[/npc]

[npc=navy]"Speaking of, don't you mole-people read the news? Do you even know what he did and so on?"[/npc] The marine captain pointed at Acacia.

[npc=gnrl]"Why do you think we brought him here?"[/npc] A pink blob spoke up from the corner of the room, her voice shaky yet mellow.

[npc=gnrl]"Former rear admiral 'Black Seed' Acacia."[/npc] The blob with the red point approached, slowly thinning into a red-haired man.

[npc=gnrl]"Dishonourably discharged, wanted for treason, mass murder, and cowardly conduct on an active battlefield."[/npc] The last charge stung the worst.

[npc=gnrl]"A son of the royal Grimm family of the Mogaro Kingdom, disgraced and disinherited,"[/npc] the pink blob added, now an elderly woman with a candy pink bundle for hair.

[npc=misc]"Pathetic in every sense of the word,"[/npc] the blonde said.

[npc=misc]"Didn't you sleep with him just last night?"[/npc] Someone asked out of sight. Acacia couldn't turn his head far enough to look.

[npc=misc]"Maybe I just wanted to see how deep his pitifulness ran,"[/npc] the blonde replied with a dismissive shrug.

[npc=gnrl]"A moment, gentle folk. I think our guests might be coming to,"[/npc] the red-haired man said.

Acacia studied the smirking face. Hundreds of stained and tattered wanted posters turned before his eyes.

[plyr=misc]"I recognize you... You're the Smiling Pauper,"[/plyr] he spoke groggily.

The man's grin widened.

[npc=gnrl]"My friends call me Price. Though I do like to smile and I am always short on cash."[/npc]

[plyr=misc]"I saw you this morning... you got shot."[/plyr] Acacia counted three bullet holes in his loose white shirt, though no blood stains to suggest matching wounds.

[npc=gnrl]"Oh, that - just a lively negotiation at the pawnshop gone wrong. The folk of Durban can be a bit sensitive if I'm being honest; especially the ones involved in the underground weapons trade. They don't much care for paupers. I would've brought you to us then, but I was already running a bit late for the big party,"[/npc] the NRA general said.

[npc=misc]"Why did you bother bringing him now? I told you before, he's an asshole who doesn't care about anyone but himself. We don't need him,"[/npc] the blonde growled as she sat across from the captives, one leg over the other. Her dark bell-bottom jeans concealed the serpents and chains Acacia had admired earlier that day.

[npc=misc]"Because we refuse to join the NRA."[/npc] A silhouette entered the dim room through a darker doorway. The beam of light flooding through the small porthole of a window near the ceiling lit his features. His balding brown hair, thick moustache, and long, uneven sideburns matched one of the men who escaped execution - the one who delivered the speech.

The man inspected Acacia and the samurai closely before he continued, [npc=misc]"If we let the NRA fight for us, we'll be counted as one of them. We can't afford to free Durban from Eric by making an enemy of the World Government."[/npc]

[npc=misc]"But the NRA's already helping us, Luther. You do know Price is the one who knocked out those executioners, right?"[/npc] The blonde asked.

[npc=misc]"I do. But, believe me, if these two were plying our revolution for us, we would've won long ago,"[/npc] Luther said glancing at Price and the pink-haired old woman. From what Acacia had heard of Price, he would've agreed.

[npc=gnrl]"We have our reasons for staying out of the spotlight too,"[/npc] the pink-haired crone said with a knowing smile.

[npc=misc]"Fine. But, that still doesn't explain why we brought these two here,"[/npc] the blonde said. Her face betrayed disgust towards Acacia, though she made little effort to hide it.

[npc=gnrl]"Because like it or not, you need help. If it can't come from the NRA, maybe these outsiders can be a compromise. They're strong and willful. I'm sure you could put them to good use,"[/npc] Price said to the blonde with a constant smile.

Acacia grunted. [plyr=misc]"What makes you think I'd lift a finger to help these idiots?"[/plyr]

He could feel the blonde's glare burning into him.

Price leaned over the chair, his arms trapping Acacia from both sides like a cat looming over its prey. The innocence in his smile was unquestionable, and yet his words invoked dread.

[npc=gnrl]"Because, if you don't, I'll throw you into the ocean."[/npc]

Acacia could only grumble under his breath. The blonde noticed his submission and added salt to the wound with a mocking [npc=misc]"hmph."[/npc]

[npc=misc]"That leaves the marine woman,"[/npc] Luther said.

Price stepped away from Acacia and turned his childish smile towards the samurai. [npc=gnrl]"I'm sure Captain Hoggish has words for Yumiko-san to help recruit her to your cause."[/npc]

The marine captain sighed.

[npc=navy]"Something like that..."[/npc]

---

Acacia tugged on his shackles, making them sing. A grunt under his breath betrayed the discomfort wrought by the compressed aura of the sea. Until that day, he could've counted the number of times his powers had been fettered on one hand. That was the first time he had to count on two.

When the strange samurai beside him griped over his stench, he shrugged her off. He couldn't imagine any amount of soap washing the stench of Durban off of him. The smell of piss, blood, and everything in between had permanently settled into all corners of the city. It was this very reason why Acacia had no faith in the rebels who detained them.

[plyr=misc]"This city seems beyond saving,"[/plyr] he repeated to no one in particular.

And yet, the exchange between the samurai and her superior that followed weighed heavier than the chains around his ankles. Like an anchor, the slow realization that was settling into the samurai sank deeper into Acacia's thoughts also.

He had heard of this "Bushy Dough" the samurai of Wano Country valued so highly. The first time the phrase fell on his ears, he'd thought them to be warring bakers not unlike those who hailed from Totto Land. But, the marine woman beside him didn't strike him as a bread connoisseur of any sort.

Marines who held onto their own sense of justice - Acacia had experienced firsthand what became of such soldiers if they weren't strong enough to resist the world. It crushed them in its palm and turned them to dust. No doubt this woman would meet a similar end.

Her deluded promise to hunt down the Smiling Pauper and his associates brought some much-needed relief to the growing tension. If all samurai were as stubborn as her, it was small wonder why the borders of Wano Country had remained closed for so many centuries.

The pink-haired old woman giggled as she neared the samurai with short but quick steps. She jabbed the marine's foot with a cane more crooked than her back. [npc=gnrl]"I hope that doesn't include me, li'l soldier. I can't run like I used to these days."[/npc]

Price unlocked the chains binding the samurai and reassured his colleague, [npc=gnrl]"Don't worry, ol' girl. I can always carry you away if Yumiko-san pursues us."[/npc]

[npc=gnrl]"Oh hush, you~"[/npc] She said with a cheeky tilt of her wrinkled head.

Just as soon as the last of the samurai's chains fell, an ear-piercing screech ripped through the dim room. It originated down the hall and yet Acacia felt as if someone were howling straight into his ears—with a megaphone, no less.

A ragged youngster stepped through the doorway and sought out the NRA general. [npc=misc]"We barely managed to bring the princess here, Mr. Price, but she keeps screaming through her gag."[/npc]

[npc=gnrl]"A lively one, isn't she?"[/npc] He said with a closed eye. [npc=gnrl]"I'll see if I can't give her tonsils a rest before we all go deaf."[/npc]

A gust of wind seemed to blow in a circle with Price at its epicentre. Half a moment later, the screaming stopped. Sweat leaked from many foreheads in the cold cellar.

[npc=gnrl]"You're such a bully - kidnapping ladies and punishing them for resisting,"[/npc] the pink-haired woman complained.

[npc=gnrl]"It seems to have been effective so far."[/npc] Price grinned and winked at the samurai.

The youngster in the doorway cleared his throat and continued his alarming report. [npc=misc]"The abduction of the princess added to the rescue of Luther and Wallace has pushed Eric over the edge. He's ordered a curfew and is getting most of his men to execute door-to-door searches. He's having them drag families into the streets to try and find us."[/npc]

The words smothered any lingering humour in the room.

[npc=misc]"Where is Eric right now?"[/npc] Luther asked with a heavy frown.

[npc=misc]"He's boiling over but he's still holed up in the keep. He's only got a few guards left at the castle,"[/npc] the youngster reported.

[npc=misc]"And what about Behemoth's lackey?"[/npc]

Acacia felt a sudden lump in his throat. His breath stalled and the crimson in his eyes grew wider.

[npc=misc]"Garobu's in the keep too, though he wasn't with Eric as far as I could tell."[/npc]

[npc=misc]"He must be in the underground factory. Wallace and I were forced to work there alongside many of the prisoners. We also confirmed that many of the citizens who'd been going missing over the last few months were being used as slave labourers. We couldn't figure out what we were making—it seemed to be some sort of chemical—but I'm sure it's fuelling one of Behemoth's many enterprises. Garobu was the one overseeing the operation,"[/npc] Luther said after a brief thought. A contemptuous grimace distorted his brown moustache.

Acacia's heart thumped faster. The room started to float behind a swelling rage in his eyes. The figures in the room danced like serpents to the tune of a snake charmer.

[npc=misc]"If they're assaulting families, we can't afford to wait. We have to attack now,"[/npc] the blonde with the cavalier hat said, drawing a pistol from her hip.

[npc=misc]"I agree. If the majority of Eric's forces are distracted in the city, we could infiltrate the castle more easily and take the keep and the underground factory in one fell swoop,"[/npc] Luther said.

[npc=gnrl]"It may be your best chance if you're in a hurry, but don't underestimate Eric and Behemoth's man. You won't have our help this time. But, at least you'll have theirs,"[/npc] Price said, motioning towards the former and current marines.

[npc=misc]"I'm still not sure about the traitor. He clearly doesn't seem interested in helping,"[/npc] the blonde argued.

[plyr=misc]"I'll do it,"[/plyr] Acacia declared with a fervour that had eluded him for too long.

All eyes fell on him as he spoke.

[plyr=misc]"You said the factory belongs to Behemoth... And that man works for him... If you'll let me take care of both, I'll help. I'll take them all on by myself if I have to, just get me out of these cuffs and give me back my sword."[/plyr] His icy glare seemed to scrape at the unfinished walls of the cellar, tearing at them to finally unleash a demon chained.

[npc=misc]"A few minutes ago, you mocked us and refused to help,"[/npc] the blonde reminded him.

[plyr=misc]"A few minutes ago, I didn't know you were about to defy the Yonkou, Loha."[/plyr]

[npc=misc]"What do you have against him?"[/npc]

[plyr=misc]"He took something from me. I'm going to take it back."[/plyr]

---

When the marine samurai, Yumiko, accused Acacia of committing to a fool's act, the blonde concurred with a bitter sneer. [npc=misc]"I'm sure it's some selfish vendetta,"[/npc] she said. Acacia did not retort; she was close enough to the truth. 

Moments later, Yumiko seemed to have reversed her opinion of the aloof swordsman. Her newly placed trust in him was unearned and likely undeserved. Acacia cared not, so long as she stayed out of his way when the time came. He was not keen to fight beside a woman too busy gripping her nose to hold her sword. 

Soon, the rebels scurried out of their hideout, shadowing through alleys with the unconscious princess slung over a shoulder. Price had advised them to have the princess screech outside the castle gates to lure the tyrant out. [npc=gnrl]"If she makes their ears bleed enough, you might just get them to come out,"[/npc] he had said with a mocking grin. [npc=misc]"Eric isn't the sort to stay burrowed in his hovel while we goad him at his door,"[/npc] Luther agreed. Perhaps there was some small ounce of chivalry to be credited to the ugly king if he fought for his lady love—a thing Acacia had failed to even attempt. 

It was evening when they shed the safety of narrow gullies to cross the wider streets of Durban bathed in orange light. A dull white crescent was rising through the darkening sky. The city was spotted with rippling cries and the occasional gunfire. 

The closest commotion drew the blonde's attention towards a shabby house made of faded red bricks and chipped wood. Two nutcracker soldiers were tormenting a young couple. They were forced up against the exterior wall while a third soldier raided their home for secrets unknown. When the blonde prepared a rescue, Wallace stopped her. [npc=misc]"We need to stay focused. We can't save everyone,"[/npc] he said; a sentiment mirrored by Acacia. 

The blonde scoffed. 

[npc=misc]"What's the point of fighting for our people if you look the other way when you see them bullied? I thought we agreed Eric's tyranny ends tonight. I don't know about you, but I plan to end it everywhere, not just in Eric's stone castle,"[/npc] she said stubbornly and ran down the bullies. They lasted no more than a brief moment. 

The first, she shot with the pistol she carried in a decorated holster on her hip. The second, she kicked in the neck. The feather on her wide-brimmed hat danced as she moved. She was badgering the face of the third with a bruised fist when Acacia cleared the threshold to peer into the broken home. A baby howled in a handmade basket-like crib near the straw bed.

[plyr=misc]"I don't think he'll be harassing someone else any time soon. Kill him or let him be,"[/plyr] Acacia said, mostly indifferent. The blonde paused to glare at him, blindly punched the looter's face one more time, then dropped him on the floor, bloody and beaten.

She spared a minute for the young homeowners as they thanked her profusely. Acacia realized they were rebel sympathizers. It explained why they became Eric's victims despite their clear lack of wealth.  A kind smile brightened the blonde's face—the sort of smile Acacia had not yet seen her wear. He glanced at Yumiko, who seemed to be just as full of purpose and chivalry—though perhaps of a slightly different flavour. 

The rebels who gathered behind them showed a mix of relieved and impatient faces. Luther decided to regroup there in the small home while one of his men took the trash out of hearing range. Acacia spotted a knife in his belt as he left.

In the crowded house, the rebels spoke of their plan. The NRA generals, Villium Price and Nelle Cadbury, had already left Durban on some other important mission. It was up to the local rebels to win the final battle, and Luther would not have it any other way. The man had the bearing of a realist despite his lofty ideals. He understood well the implications of associating with the NRA, even if others in his band did not. He also knew well the importance of theatricality and perception, as Acacia would note minutes later.

[npc=misc]"Yumiko,"[/npc] he said, looking at the marine woman while scratching his auburn sideburns. [npc=misc]"After Eric is gone, Durban will only recover if it wins the World Government's support. It would mean a lot to us if you were the one to defeat and arrest him. A marine hero saving our country would do wonders to repair the relationship between the Navy and our people. And the World Government may look more kindly on the rebellion if you were to be its righteous sword."[/npc] Acacia could not say if Luther was sincere or manipulative. Perhaps the best of leaders were a healthy blend of both.

As they awaited a response, all eyes fell on Yumiko.

---

The irksome samurai woman's insults were somehow meant to be a vote of confidence when she asked Acacia to taunt Eric out of his hidey-hole. 

[plyr=misc]"Haven't you been paying attention, you nose-pinching loony?"[/plyr] Acacia asked with disdain. [plyr=misc]"These fools already plan on luring out Eric using the princess."[/plyr]

The blonde stepped forward. [npc=misc]"She's suggesting your foul mouth might be effective in getting him to look outside. I, for one, agree with Yumiko. You do seem to have a talent for pissing people off."[/npc] She allowed herself a brief grin, which only tickled Acacia's grump some more.

[plyr=misc]"I think it's a waste of my fucking time,"[/plyr] Acacia said. [plyr=misc]"But, fine, I'll do it. I'm warning you now, though; I have no dog in the fight with Eric. Once he steps outside, I'm going in to destroy Behemoth's precious factory."[/plyr] It wasn't entirely true—he had stakes in the struggle against Eric, even if he refused to acknowledge them. A man once sworn to strong ideals could only wallow in self-pity for so long before his old instincts resurfaced in the presence of corruption and tyranny. 

That morning, he had woken with a curtain of indifference, and yet—with keen senses—he had heard the baby's cries in the shoddy hut; he had watched the small girl in rags steal from the baker; he had seen the two teenage boys beat each other senseless; and he had witnessed the old beggar crawling to his impending demise. The symptoms of Eric's cruel regime could be found in Durban's every pore. Not even a drum full of Ilisian Red could cloud Acacia's judgment enough to blind him to the dreary darkness oppressing the city.

With Acacia in agreement, the rebels resumed their excursion. The clock tower across from the castle gates struck eight when they arrived. The market square outside was vacant after the curfew, a wide open space dressed in stone. Small buildings fenced the square, some, homes to patricians and artisans, others, to town officials or wealthier citizens.

Luther ordered his group to assemble a pyre and stakes. A pile of wood with a single pillar stood lonesome on a field of stone once they were ready. They tied the princess to the pillar, taking care not to wake her in the process. When the blonde expressed her reservations, Luther dismissed them quickly, reassuring her that no harm would come to the lady. Acacia figured the wailing woman would likely hurt them more than they would her.

The rebels lit up lanterns around the pyre, keeping them a safe distance away but close enough to form a spotlight on the princess and her would-be tormentor, Acacia.

Once the stage was set, a splash of water was enough to wake the princess. And wake she did. It took her no more than a breath to study her situation and start screaming the ears off anyone who dared stand too close. Luckily, Acacia had the good sense to predict it. [plyr=misc]"When you whip a donkey, expect it to bray,"[/plyr] he had said as he plucked balls made of mochi from his long arm and offered a pair to each of his comrades-of-circumstance. He kept a set for himself and stuffed it in his ears before the braying commenced.

It didn't take long for lights to pop into existence one after the other, illuminating the grim grey silhouettes of the castle and the buildings around them.

The square stood silent, save for the illegible howling of the princess. She spoke only in tongues and curses. It had fallen on Acacia to translate it for the tyrant's ears.

[plyr=misc]"ERIC!"[/plyr] He bellowed deep from his lungs. He unsheathed Nidai Kitetsu from its striped lavender scabbard and held the cursed blade to his hostage's throat. The howling ceased.

[plyr=misc]"Eric! Show your ugly, hairy face, you fat piece of shit!"[/plyr] He shouted. If his foul mouth had earned him this role, he would put it to good use after all. 

Words from Eric's squeaky speech that morning danced through his mind. [npc=pirt]"Crucified like those monsters who laughed at me two years ago,"[/npc] he had said. Acacia later gleaned the details from the rebels. Two newcomers—one of whom was just a boy—had made the fatal error of laughing out loud when Eric addressed his constituents with his ear-gouging voice. The king had the strangers tortured and crucified in the same square where they stood. It was a wonder he didn't do the same to Luther and Wallace. But, perhaps, small men only took small offences to heart.

And so, Acacia continued with his booming voice. [plyr=misc]"Come get your lady love, you turd-loving hairball! Together, you can make each other's ears bleed."[/plyr]

[plyr=misc]"She barks better than you!"[/plyr]
[plyr=misc]"But, she smells even worse!"[/plyr] 
[plyr=misc]"Your brats will be the squeakiest rats in the city!"[/plyr]

The insults kept flowing until a vicious screech sailed down with the wind from the castle. Even with the ear plugs, Acacia felt it bite his ear drums. 

[npc=pirt]"You son of a bitch!"[/npc] King Eric squealed. [npc=pirt]"I don't care who you are; I'll cut you to pieces and erase your existence!"[/npc] He promised. The rebels faintly heard doors slam open one after the other as the despot of Durban stomped out with what seemed like a thousand nutcracker soldiers marching behind him. They sallied out of the castle gates like a swarm of hornets out of a kicked nest.

And all it took was a small offence.

The barrel of a man stood across the square with his forces. The rebels drew arms and prepared for battle. [npc=pirt]"I'm glad you brought these worms with you. Saves me the trouble of having to dig for them,"[/npc] Eric said with murder in his eyes. The forks in his dark-brown moustache fluttered whenever he spoke. He swiped the air with his thick messer. Its blade was nearly as long as the man himself.

[plyr=misc]"He's all yours, marine. I've got a dragon to slay,"[/plyr] Acacia said to Yumiko. Luther instructed the blonde to accompany him, with Wallace as their guide. 

All that remained was for Eric to be sufficiently distracted.

---

Acacia, Wallace, and the blonde woman manoeuvred around Eric's troops to reach the castle. The portcullis had swiftly dropped behind the army, leaving no easy entry. The king's builders had worked fast, for the same portcullis had been bent and broken earlier that very day. But, neither the sturdy iron gate nor the thick stone wall were barriers of consequence for a man cursed by the sea.

He swung an arm into the air, chasing it with an exerted grunt. His hand did not stop where it should have; instead, the limb stretched and flexed, thinning into a creamy dough.

Wallace's jaw was agape until the blonde forced it closed. [npc=misc]"I realized you were an ability-user, but I didn't expect it to be quite so versatile,"[/npc] he said once Acacia had rubber-banded the two rebels up onto the wall with him. The rush of air had left his long and wavy ginger hair in a fritz.

[plyr=misc]"I'm just getting started,"[/plyr] Acacia said, remembering when Yumiko had asked him what manner of curse he carried. [plyr=misc]"The kind that helps me get the job done,"[/plyr] he had said with unabashed confidence.

The three peered back at the square to watch the rebel leader and the marine samurai herd the agitators into a clash against Eric and his minions. Acacia was relieved his goal led him away from the shrieking tyrant and his intended.

And while he once fostered mild curiosity regarding the samurai culture, the first warrior from Wano Country he encountered had been more unpleasant than he bargained for. Her unbending ideals seemed to have awoken sleeping dogs within Acacia; it was not a sentiment he was grateful for—at least not at the time.

An alarmed shout stole the attention of the infiltrators. It came from the far end of the battlements. Two soldiers in red hollered and charged at them, polished spear and club in hand.

[npc=misc]"They're mine,"[/npc] the blonde declared.

Her movements were an exact repetition of the ones from the skirmish in the city—down to the rotation of her hips. She fired her flintlock the moment it cleared its ornate holster, introducing a bloody leak in her first target's stomach. Meanwhile, her shin was already on its way to meet the neck of her second target as her lithe frame twisted almost unnaturally under a violent spear thrust. The kicked soldier tumbled straight off the wall and down onto the cobblestone street, while the gutshot man collapsed before them, dropping his metal club with a loud clang.

She settled the feathers in her hat with a gentle caress before heading for the steps. [npc=misc]"Let's go."[/npc] Acacia and Wallace exchanged shrugs and followed.

The keep itself was largely undefended—drawbridge down and gate open—allowing unhindered entry to the trespassers. Acacia could only imagine the resistance they would have faced had they not bullied Eric into storming out with his army.

Inside the mountain of a castle, the dark corridors were forlorn, devoid of colour and joy. Unsurprisingly, Eric's tastes ran morbid; for within the darkness, Acacia noticed beady eyes peering down at them from mounted heads of one dreary beast after another.

Wallace led the way, twining through the winding halls until they reached a pit of blackness. A spiralling staircase drilled into the earth, leading to depths unknown. The blonde struck a match and lit a lantern nearby before handing it to Acacia.

Acacia blazed the trail, one hand holding up the light while the other hugged the stiff lavender grip of his sword. After what seemed an eternity, they finally saw a soft glow of orange light radiating up the spindling stairs. The roaring din of industry was unmistakable. Engines cried and conveyor belts wheezed, but they could not drown out the human misery that fuelled them.

When they stepped through the narrow doorway, a vast hall stretched before them as far as the eye could see. It resembled a cave inside a mountain, illuminated by thousands of lamps hanging from jagged stalactites. Beneath the high ceiling, there was a haphazard network of machines layered on platforms of varying heights. But, that wasn't what gave the blonde pause.

She walked over slowly to the railing, looking down from the mezzanine jutting out of the bedrock. Her fists clenched around the metal bar and her veins bulged, ready to burst. Her raw indignation seeped out in quiet vicious words as her glare studied hundreds of men, women, and children dressed in rags, gaunt as bones, crawling more than walking as their fetters licked the floor.

[npc=misc]"What kind of hell is this...?"[/npc]

Acacia spied a number of holding cells scattered around the cave, each packed with the tyrant's flesh-and-blood tools, no doubt. Whips cracked in the distance, soliciting dire moans. Every sound seemed to echo off the mossy cave walls a thousand times until it was but a weak whisper, lingering in their ears still like phantom pain.

[npc=misc]"How could we not have found this place sooner? It was right under our feet all these years,"[/npc] the blonde said. Acacia could never have envisioned her shaken so thoroughly. But, the malice ran thick in the air. Even an individual lacking a keen nose and a fervent sense of justice could smell its vile stench.

[npc=misc]"These are the guts of Durban. We found this place only when that snake, Eric, swallowed us whole,"[/npc] Wallace said, lips pursed and eyes grim.

[plyr=misc]"Eric's just a dog performing tricks at his owner's commands,"[/plyr] Acacia interjected. [plyr=misc]"The real serpent behind this atrocity is half a world away. If you wanna free your city, you need to cut the fingers gripping its throat..."[/plyr]

Acacia drew his sword, its smooth steel singing a shrill tune. Wallace and the blonde watched with discerning eyes as he added.

[plyr=misc]"...Every single one of them."[/plyr]

---

The blonde seemed paralyzed like a marble statue at the cruel sight machinated by Eric and his sponsors. A blend of anger and terror blemished her pale cheeks. It took Wallace's calming hand on her shoulder to break the spell.

[npc=misc]"That tunnel leads out of the island,"[/npc] the ginger said, pointing to an inlet on the far side of the cavern. [npc=misc]"That's how they bring in all of their supplies and ship out their product. It's the only major access point from what we discovered."[/npc]  The hole in the bedrock was big enough for a small ship, and the bay it opened into could dock perhaps five. The ocean water flowing in from the tunnel looked foul in the orange light, spoiled by all manner of slag and refuse.

[npc=misc]"I have a plan,"[/npc] Wallace continued. [npc=misc]"I think it'll play to all of our strengths."[/npc]

Acacia squinted. He could already imagine what the plan would demand of him, and he was not going to argue.

[npc=misc]"They stash their explosive exports in a storehouse near the tunnel until they're ready to be shipped. With any luck, they might even have some loaded on that ship already."[/npc] They could see workers carrying compact barrels aboard a lonesome vessel in the bay.

[npc=misc]"I'll commandeer the ship and sail it into the tunnel,"[/npc] Wallace said.

[npc=misc]"Wait, don't tell me you're gonna--"[/npc]

[npc=misc]"I'm gonna blow up the tunnel and collapse it for good,"[/npc] Wallace interrupted the blonde before she could read his fortune.

[plyr=misc]"Let me guess, you need me to distract whoever would get in your way,"[/plyr] Acacia said.

[npc=misc]"You catch on quick. Yeah, I need you to make some noise. Apparently, there's a checkpoint inside the tunnel. If you could cause a ruckus close to the inlet, I have no doubt they'll divert men to deal with you. As long as I can sail deep enough to cause some permanent damage without getting sunk, it should be enough."[/npc]

[npc=misc]"That sounds like a suicide mission, Wallace. I can't let you do that alone; I'm coming with you,"[/npc] the blonde said. Her forehead wrinkled with worry behind two stray golden locks. Acacia was less bothered.

[npc=misc]"No, I need you to do something more important. Behemoth's lackey, Garobu, is probably here. He's the type of snake that won't hesitate to leverage the captives to foil our plan."[/npc]

Acacia's eye twitched.

[npc=misc]"I need you to free the people of Durban. Lead them out of this entrance or any other, as long as you can get them somewhere safe, it doesn't matter. When our former marine friend here draws attention to himself, I'm hoping it'll occupy Garobu long enough for you to take our collateral out of his reach."[/npc]

The blonde's concern was only slightly lifted.

[npc=misc]"Don't worry about me. If everything goes according to plan, I'll be swimming out of the inlet long before the ship explodes."[/npc] The optimism in his voice was clearly missing from his trembling gaze, but, the blonde did not protest further.

[npc=misc]"Since time is a factor, I'm hoping you can conjure some devil fruit-powered spectacle to get us to the other side quickly,"[/npc] Wallace said to Acacia.

[plyr=misc]"Easily."[/plyr] Acacia allowed himself a cocky smile. The blonde folded her arms and rolled her eyes as the towering outlaw squatted down and patted his shoulders. Wallace giggled like a school girl and tethered himself to Acacia's back as if he were a rucksack.

[plyr=misc]"Good luck. Don't die,"[/plyr] Acacia said to the woman, standing up. The parting words seemed to blunt the razor in her attitude.

[npc=misc]"You too,"[/npc] she said, shading her face with the wide brim of her cavalier hat.

Acacia shot an arm to reach for the thickest stalactite nearby. Once the gooey limb was attached securely, he jumped off the ledge.

[npc=misc]"OoooOoOoooh OoOoooh!"[/npc] Wallace yelled as Acacia swung them from one rocky outcropping to the next.

[plyr=misc]"What the hell are you doing?"[/plyr] Acacia shouted, redder than a clown's nose.

[npc=misc]"If I'm gonna die soon, I might as well live a little first,"[/npc] he said, holding on for dear life.

[plyr=misc]"If you keep howling like that, you might die sooner. Aren't you trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself?"[/plyr]
[npc=misc]"I'm not drawing attention to myself; I'm drawing attention to you."[/npc]

Acacia breathed a defeated sigh and continued swinging across the cavern like an ape traversing a jungle.

It took him no longer than half a minute to transport them to the far side of the cavern. He landed on a flat rooftop softly like a cat, even with the howling baggage. They could hear alarmed calls below and by the ship already.

[npc=misc]"Now... get away from me and go break some things. Loudly,"[/npc] Wallace said. His fist mimed a hammer.

Acacia turned away from Wallace, knowing it would be the last time.

[plyr=misc]"Good luck,"[/plyr] he said.

[npc=misc]"Don't die,[/npc] Wallace replied. Acacia could hear the smile.

---

Life filled Durban's courtroom in many forms. Joyous laughter, vivid art, and merciful judgments, all common hallmarks of Queen Margaret's reign. Some called her "King Breechless," her resentful son, Eric, loudest among them. Others called her "Lady King"—Wallace much preferred that.

Mostly, the guardsmen knew her to be a just and compassionate ruler—like many of her predecessors. [npc=misc]"She'd give up the clothes off her back to save an orphan child,"[/npc] Captain Luther would say. They were proud to serve as her loyal retinue, and they remained so until the day that assassin snuffed out her radiant spark.

Wallace broke out of his pensive reminiscence. It was no time to mourn the corruption of Durban's royal blood. He had a mission—his final mission. When the mochi-human incited the sort of chaos Wallace had desired, he got to work with a content grin. Several guards rushed out of the tunnel and from the docks towards the violent distraction, leaving the scene wide open for Wallace.

The former royal guardsman scurried onto the ship like a stowaway rat. He encountered only two sailors on board, both of whom tasted the righteous steel of his claymore before they could sound an alarm.

Wallace sighed with a morbid sense of relief when he searched below deck. He was going to be a martyr after all, for the cargo bay was packed with tens of barrels of the volatile substance he planned to use as a weapon. Once he had confirmed he had enough explosives to blow the tunnel to kingdom come, he ran back up to the deck.

He did not know at the time what awaited him there.



The blonde woman hurried from one cage to the next, one set of victims to the other. Every jailer who confronted her was put to sleep with a potent anaesthetic—a swift and brutal kick to the neck. She ensured not a single shot was fired that could disrupt the distraction created by the spiky-haired vandal.

She bid each citizen she freed to help guide the next. Soon, a convoy of evacuees was assembled, stretching all the way to the mezzanine they had descended from. She warned her people to stick to the shadows once inside the castle, though she expected most of the soldiers to have left to battle their comrades in the square.

Her rescue efforts took her through several sections of the cavern. She was pleasantly surprised by how effective the disgraced marine's diversion had been. She hardly met any opposition and liberated more than a hundred enslaved souls from their pens and fetters. Her disdain for Eric and his ilk grew with every prisoner she released. They were, one and all, little more than cattle for those curs to herd and abuse.

The blonde finally reached a small open factory fenced only by tall metal cylinders. One of the captives mentioned how they produced some explosive material there. She assumed it was the same substance Wallace intended to use. With a brief perusal of one of the cylinders, she made out only three faint letters on its rusty surface.

"M... A... D..."

[npc=misc]Mad?[/npc] At that moment, she couldn't decide who the mad ones were. Was it Eric and his thugs - for exploiting their own people for profit? Or was it her and her fellow rebels - for fighting for a Durban that may never exist again? Or perhaps it was the former Navy officer, exacting vengeance against a beast who was half a world away.

The letters meant nothing to her, and yet she pondered; until, that is, she was interrupted by a thing as yet unseen.



A volley of gunshots sounded like a barrage of cannons in the echo chamber that was the cavern. Luckily, Acacia always had a pair of earplugs ready for those bits of his venture that posed danger to his eardrums.

[npc=pirt]"You fools! He's clearly a logia! Guns aren't gonna hurt him!"[/npc] A thug shouted and waved his cutlass at his less imaginative partners.

[npc=pirt]"You're the fool! Logias are supposed to be natural elements. What the fuck kind of natural element is he? Earwax?"[/npc] screamed another. Acacia did not appreciate the comparison, but the man certainly had a point. He smiled.

[plyr=misc]"Listen to your friend. He knows what he's talking about,"[/plyr] Acacia remarked as he squatted atop a stack of crates, hovering behind his attackers. [plyr=misc]"Though I'm sure you could've come up with something better than earwax,"[/plyr] he added with a playful pout.

The riflemen turned in a frantic huff and fired again. The bullets sank into Acacia's gooey body—as benign as a few grains of sand whipped by the wind—before oozing out and dropping to the ground, missing all of their lethality.

[plyr=misc]"Not many Dr. Oletonnes among you, huh?"[/plyr] Acacia said, barely intending it as a taunt. They fired once more, as if to illustrate his point.

Acacia drew his cursed blade and cut through the rabble with ease. A few had a semblance of skill with swords, which only prompted Acacia to use a mochi whip here and a spiked mochi club there. For the briefest of moments, his thoughts wandered to Kamaitachi no Yumiko. He had never thought of himself as much of a swordsman, but something about that woman and her obstinate samurai conduct made him wish to test his mettle against her.

By sword or by dessert, Acacia soon found himself standing amidst a heap of defeated pirates and soldiers, with tens of wooden structures smoking and blazing around him.

The waves of enemies slowed, with most of them now keeping a safe distance and knowing better than to attack in vain. Acacia sighed and leaned against a wall.

[plyr=misc]"I hope that's enough of a distraction,"[/plyr] he said out loud. And yet, he could not scratch a strange itch in the back of his mind. He was sure he was missing something. But, the chaos he had bred had only muddled his thoughts.

The itch was scratched minutes later.

A rush of wind blew past as he watched two figures crash violently before him. A third one landed more gracefully between the two.

Acacia drew his sword.

[npc=pirt]"It's funny, isn't it?"[/npc] The third figure spoke as the dust and debris settled. [npc=pirt]"It's so easy for us to let someone lead us by our ears. Our instincts always have us chase the loudest disturbances. Very few people have the wisdom to stay and defend the quiet—but pivotal—corners, when their enemies summon them elsewhere."[/npc]

Acacia could hear a smile in the stranger's voice—a wicked, sinuous smile.

[npc=pirt]"Well, you see, I'm not like King Eric. I don't run after the first insult or gunshot I hear. Instead, I hunt for my enemies in those exact places they would rather lure me away from. And that's how I found rats chewing at the ropes that hold this place together."[/npc] The smile disappeared with the last statement. Anger took its place as the dust cleared and the stranger revealed himself and his two victims.

The man wore a dark, striped suit with a small noxious green mantle over his shoulder. His skin was sallow and patchy, riddled with countless scars and burns. His face was as gaunt as his frame, and his predatory eyes were pale blue, lighter than the sky.

He kicked the groaning bodies of the blonde woman and Wallace—more gently than Acacia could have expected.

[npc=pirt]"Aren't I sweet? I thought I'd reunite you with your friends,"[/npc] he said. There was almost a teasing hiss beneath his words.

Wallace and the blonde looked beaten but alive. They writhed on the ground in wordless agony.

Acacia narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. [plyr=misc]"You must be Behemoth's lackey."[/plyr]

The villain sneered. [npc=pirt]"The very same. My friends call me Garobu. My master calls me whatever he likes."[/npc]

He revealed a long whip he had concealed behind him. Its tip fell to the ground, snaking in Acacia's direction.

[npc=pirt]"But, you will call me Death."[/npc]

---