"That newspaper was fake, wasn't it?"
Ignoring the shifting atmosphere within the tavern, Wilder kept his gaze fixed on Barrett.
"Correct," Barrett admitted readily. "It was all arranged to keep anyone who lands on this island from leaving. The newspaper explains the town's sparse population, preventing suspicion. It's true I arrived here half a year ago, but I wasn't being chased by pirates! In fact, I discovered this island! And I turned all the people here into nourishment for evil! That is the real reason the population is so scarce."
Barrett spoke as if discussing something utterly trivial, a trace of manic excitement coloring his tone, completely unconcerned about revealing these horrific acts.
"I told you, I was once a noble. Not anymore, of course, but soon, I will reclaim that position! As long as I convert enough people to evil! As long as enough 'evil' is generated! Then, no one will be able to stop me!"
Wilder understood the gist. Just another madman seeking to achieve some 'grand ambition' through so-called 'evil' – the seas were full of such individuals. If he were being honest, he himself fit that description in some ways.
As for the 'evil' Barrett spoke of, Wilder guessed it likely referred to those black monsters.
So… the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The islanders hadn't died in a plague forty years ago. Barrett had fabricated the entire story. The truth was, Barrett arrived six months prior and… made the vast majority of the island's inhabitants disappear. But why leave some behind?
Subordinates, Wilder hypothesized. To avoid being completely alone on the island, perhaps.
But that felt too simple…
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a crowd materialized in the tavern doorway – the same group they'd seen in the square earlier, including the old woman.
Their faces were deathly pale, stretched into sinister smiles. They crowded the entrance, staring with malevolent eyes at Wilder and his crew inside.
Shhk-shhk-shhk…!
Wilder's ten crewmen simultaneously drew their pistols, aiming warily at the figures blocking the door, adopting defensive stances.
"It's useless…" Barrett chuckled darkly. "You will all sink into depravity on this island, becoming nourishment for evil."
A sinister grin spread across his face. Somehow, inexplicably, he had slipped free from Wilder's grasp.
Hmm?
Wilder remained silent, his expression turning frigid. He hadn't detected Barrett escaping his hold at all. It was as if the man had simply… vanished from his grip.
Beside him, Claire and the others hadn't perceived what happened either. Seeing Barrett free sent a jolt of alarm through them.
Claire's eyes locked onto the old woman standing amongst the crowd at the door. In that instant, she fully understood Wilder's earlier coldness towards the crone. Her own expression hardened, shifting from complex uncertainty to icy resolve.
BANG!
Someone – one of Wilder's crew – fired the first shot. A man who had been preparing to rush into the tavern collapsed!
But the next moment, he staggered back to his feet, swaying unsteadily. Black mist began to flow from the wound in his chest, so thick it resembled dark liquid, reminding Wilder vaguely of the backflow incense from his previous life.
"What?!"
Shock rippled through the group. Even Wilder raised an eyebrow, momentarily lost in thought.
"Heh heh," Barrett laughed mockingly. "I told you, it's useless. These are my Evil Soldiers! They are immortal! Accept my baptism of evil! You too can attain immortality! Come!"
His face was a mask of fanaticism and madness, his voice dripping with seductive temptation. As he spoke, thick, viscous black liquid began to ooze from his body, coalescing into blobs that floated eerily around him.
Swoosh…!
A projectile – an irregular spear seemingly formed of hardened earth – shot through the air with incredible speed!
Before Barrett could react, his eyes widening in shock, the earthen spear had already pierced clean through his abdomen.
Wilder's figure appeared directly in front and slightly above Barrett, his greatcoat billowing dramatically. His face was an expressionless mask as he reached down with one large hand.
The contrast between Wilder's imposing height and Barrett's frame was stark.
Terror filled Barrett's eyes as Wilder's palm descended, completely covering the innkeeper's face. Armament Haki instantly coated Wilder's hand, blackening it. A flicker of cold, murderous intent flashed in Wilder's eyes, and then his hand clenched with brutal force!
CRACK!
The sickening sound of shattering bone echoed with chilling clarity through the tavern. Barrett's face distorted into an unrecognizable shape, his pupils dilated, then went vacant. He collapsed silently to the floor. Thin wisps of black mist escaped from his lifeless body.
"In the end… you were just a front man, weren't you? A pawn," Wilder remarked, casting a disdainful, indifferent glance at the corpse on the floor. He then turned and strode purposefully towards the stunned crowd still blocking the doorway.
He had never believed in true immortality. No matter how the world changed, the concept of eternity was fundamentally untenable. Nothing could escape eventual destruction.
Just as he knew… no conscious being was ever truly fearless in the face of death, unless… they held something far more precious, something that transcended mortality itself.
Splurt…! Splurt…! Splurt…!
A grim wind seemed to blow through the tavern entrance, carrying the coppery tang of blood. Gore splattered as the figures crowded there fell one after another!
The man who had previously revived after being shot was caught in Wilder's indiscriminate, frenzied cutting attack, reduced to dozens of pieces. Black mist seeped from the severed chunks, but this time, the 'immortal' body could no longer reform.
BANG!
Wilder slammed one of the last trembling men against the wall. His tall frame radiated immense pressure as he leaned in, looking down with ice-cold eyes.
"Tell me," Wilder demanded softly, "where did you take the people from this island?" He paused, then added with a chilling edge, "Of course… you could always claim you don't know. I'll believe you."
Hearing Wilder's words, cold sweat beaded on the man's face. He knew he had to reveal something, anything. In truth, he knew very little… he didn't even understand the origin of the 'evil' or the black gas, only that Barrett extracted it from the bodies of the dead.
He and the others had always believed Barrett was their leader. No one knew that their boss actually had a boss of his own!
"I… I only know," the man stammered, trembling violently, his eyes filled with terror as he looked up at Wilder, "that everyone on the island… besides us… they're all dead." He confirmed Wilder's grim suspicion. "Six months ago, this place… it wasn't like this at all. The town was small, yes, but it was thriving. Until that day… the boss… Barrett… arrived on the island. He… he started killing people. He said… human nature is inherently evil. After killing them, he extracted that black gas from their bodies… He said that was the essence of human evil."
"So… so…" the man's voice dwindled to a near whisper, "if nothing unexpected happened… the people you were asking about… they must be…" He couldn't finish the sentence, his eyes pleading desperately with Wilder.
CRACK!
Wilder's only response was a sinister smile twisting his lips.
He released his grip. The man's head lolled grotesquely to one side, his neck clearly broken. His body slid limply down the wall to the floor.