The moon hung high above the forest north of Krakenport, its cold, unyielding light slicing through the dense canopy, casting jagged silver shards across the blood-soaked clearing. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of iron, damp earth, and the faint tang of salt carried from the nearby sea. The ground, churned into a muddy mess, bore the scars of battle—cratered dirt, splintered roots, and scattered leaves.
Rane, battered and bleeding, struggled to his feet, his scarlet eyes blazing with defiance despite the blood pooling beneath him. His tattered scarlet scarf, stained darker by his wounds, slipped to reveal sharp, almost feral teeth as he grinned slyly.
Popeye, Kael, Liro, and Toro stood tense, their weapons—double-headed hammer, single-headed axe, cutlass, and spiked mace—glinting in the moonlight, their breaths ragged. Rane's words lingered like a curse: "But you think I go out alone?" His dangerous smile sent a chill through them, their instincts screaming of a trap. A man with nothing left to lose, not even his life, was a force to fear, and Rane, cornered and bloodied, was a predator poised for a final strike.
The four didn't hesitate. They attacked in unison, their weapons tearing through the night with deadly intent. Popeye's hammer descended like a falling star, its weight warping the air with a low roar. Kael's axe cleaved downward, its blade a silver blur slicing the wind. Liro's cutlass flashed with lethal precision, and Toro's mace swung with bone-crushing force, its spikes gleaming like fangs.
Rane's grin widened, his scarf slipping further as he spun his twin shuriken, their chains rattling like coiled snakes. The clash was deafening—metal on metal, sparks erupting like fireflies, the ground trembling as Rane skidded back, his boots carving furrows in the mud.
With a swift motion, he reached into his pocket and revealed a small, crimson brick of Red Tide. The sight halted the four, their eyes widening in shock. They knew its power: an addictive drug that healed wounds and amplified strength, the Red Tide's lifeblood. But why would Rane use it now, teetering on death's edge?
"Hahaha, look at your confused faces!" Rane taunted, blood dripping from his mouth, painting his feral grin grotesque under the moonlight. "Don't you know the effects of this marvelous drug?" His scarlet eyes gleamed with madness, relishing their uncertainty. "Sure, it's addictive, and it heals wounds—that's why we sell it. But the real reason it's worth so much is the strength it grants. Right now, I don't care about addiction if it means I can kill you all." With a flick of his wrist, he smashed the brick with one shuriken, the crimson powder exploding into a cloud. He inhaled deeply, the dust coating his lips and teeth, his body trembling as the drug took hold.
The transformation was horrifying. Steam rose from Rane's skin, as if it were burning from within, his muscles swelling unnaturally, red veins pulsing beneath his eyes like rivers of fire. His scarlet gaze turned rabid, like a beast fueled by pure adrenaline, yet his mind remained razor-sharp, calculating every move.
His wounds—except for the deep gash from Liro's cutlass and the bruising from Popeye's hammer—seemed to vanish, his body rejuvenated by the drug's unnatural power. Knowing the effects were fleeting, Rane moved with blinding speed, targeting Liro, whose quick, precise strikes made him the immediate threat.
Liro barely raised his cutlass before Rane was upon him, grabbing his face with a grip like iron and slamming him into the ground. The impact shook the clearing, dirt and leaves erupting in a plume as Liro coughed blood, his vision blurring, the taste of iron flooding his mouth.
Popeye, Kael, and Toro snapped from their shock, launching their attacks. Rane, unfazed, hurled Liro's limp body toward them like a ragdoll, the force sending him tumbling through the air. To avoid striking their ally, they halted mid-swing, but Rane, caring for nothing but their death, snapped the chain on one shuriken and flung it at Liro's airborne form. Liro, dazed and helpless, didn't see the spinning blade coming, its edges glinting like a guillotine.
Popeye charged to intercept, his hammer raised, but Rane appeared beside him in a blur, delivering a bone-crunching punch to his face. The blow sent Popeye staggering, blood spraying from his nose, the pain a sharp jolt through his skull.
Toro lunged next, his mace swinging, but Rane drove a knee into his gut with such force that the air exploded from Toro's lungs, doubling him over in the mud.
Kael, the last standing, threw himself in front of Liro, the shuriken burying deep into his stomach. Blood sprayed as he grunted, collapsing to his knees but shielding Liro from the fatal strike. Rane's grin widened, his drug-fueled frenzy unrelenting, his scarlet eyes gleaming with savage glee.
Turning to Toro, still gasping on the ground, Rane drove a knee into his face, the crack of bone echoing through the trees. A hammer-like blow with both fists landed on Toro's back, flattening him into the mud with a sickening thud, the ground trembling beneath the impact.
Liro, staggering to his feet, checked Kael, who weakly pulled the shuriken from his wound, blood gushing as he struggled to rise, his face pale, his breaths shallow. Liro's teeth clenched in rage—Kael had taken the hit meant for him. Seeing Rane pummel Toro, Liro gripped his cutlass with white knuckles, his heart pounding with fury.
With a primal scream, he charged, catching Rane off guard. The blade plunged deep into Rane's right lung, blood spurting as Rane staggered, his scarlet eyes locking onto Liro with murderous intent.
Rane raised a fist for a lethal strike to Liro's head, but a stronger arm blocked it—Popeye, back on his feet, his face bloodied but resolute, his muscles taut with rage. Another fist smashed into Rane's face, the impact forcing him back, blood pouring from his mouth. A knee to his stomach doubled him over, the air rushing from his lungs.
As Rane's vision blurred, he saw a metallic glint—Popeye's hammer swinging upward. It connected with his jaw, the crack resounding like a gunshot, sending him crashing backward into the dirt, the ground quaking under the force.
Popeye didn't stop. He raised the hammer and brought it down on Rane's arm, shattering bones like brittle stone, the snap echoing through the forest. Another swing crushed both knees, the cracks sharp and final, like breaking branches. The next blow obliterated Rane's other arm, leaving him a broken heap, his body twitching in the mud.
It was impossible to move and if it weren't for the strong effect of the red tide, he would have died a long time ago.
With a primal roar, Popeye lifted the hammer high and smashed it down on Rane's head, the impact bursting it like a melon, blood brain and bone splattering the mossy ground, staining the leaves red. The forest fell silent, the carnage bathed in moonlight, the air thick with the stench of death.
"This is for Kael and the others," Popeye spat, wiping blood from his lips, his chest heaving as he glared at Rane's headless corpse, a mangled ruin unrecognizable as human.
Turning, Popeye saw Liro cradling Kael and Toro, both barely alive, their blood unnaturally black, pooling like tar beneath them. "Why's their blood black?" Popeye asked, his voice—youthful at 20—cracking with panic, betraying his inexperience despite his strength an his look a men of 30 years old.
Kael coughed, blood dribbling as he managed a weak smile, collapsing back onto the ground, his breaths shallow. "Popeye, I don't have long. These five years with you all… best of my 33 years. Tell Olbap thanks, and… look after my wife and my girl, Elin." His eyes fluttered shut, his chest stilling, the light fading from his face.
Popeye's heart clenched, gripping Kael's body alongside Liro, who wept silently, tears cutting tracks through the blood and dirt on his face. "We'll get you to Vanessa. You'll see them again," Popeye said, his voice desperate, but Liro's hand on his shoulder stopped him, tears streaming down Liro's face.
"There is no way of saving him. The wound's too deep, and the blood loss… Rane's weapons were poisoned," Liro said, his voice breaking as he punched the ground, the impact sending a tremor through the mud. Popeye's mind flashed to Rane's crazed grin, the drug-fueled madness, the venomous edge to his blades.
He rushed to Toro, motionless, his massive frame dwarfing Popeye. The same black blood pooled beneath him, glistening ominously in the moonlight. "Toro, you're tougher than this. You'll pull through," Popeye urged, his voice trembling.
Toro's voice was a whisper, his oxygen fading, his massive chest barely moving. "Popeye, I'm done. My backbone spine's broken. Can't feel my legs or body. That bastard got me good." His eyes dimmed, his voice trailing into silence as his life slipped away.
Liro's sobs broke, tears soaking Toro's chest. Toro had been the brother he never had, a wild warrior whose heart was kinder than any Liro knew. His own childhood, a wreckage of loss and survival, had hardened him, but Toro's warmth had cracked that shell, giving Liro a family he'd never known.
Popeye, a single tear tracing his cheek, clenched his eyes shut, his broad shoulders trembling. He had to be strong now, to hide the evidence and protect the others.
He dragged Kael's body beside Toro's, then dug a shallow grave in the clearing, the earth soft and yielding under his hammer being use like a shovel. He tossed Rane's remains inside—blood, bone, and all, the gore impossible to fully erase from the forest floor.
Liro, still weeping, lifted Toro's massive body, his arms shaking under the weight. Popeye carried Kael, his lighter frame no less heavy with grief. They trudged toward the swamp, away from Krakenport, their boots sinking into the muddy earth, the forest's silence a heavy shroud over their loss.
Three Hours Later
The swamp's air was oppressive, thick with the stench of decay, stagnant water, and rotting vegetation. The ground squelched beneath their boots, reeds swaying in the faint breeze, their tips catching the dim light of dawn.
Anna and Vanessa, their crimson hair vivid against the swamp's gloom, waited at the base, their faces pale with dread. Seeing the bodies of Kael and Toro, they broke into sobs, rushing forward, their hands trembling as they checked for signs of life, their fingers stained with black blood.
Popeye, his mind cold and focused despite the grief clawing at his chest, called Olbap via Den Den Mushi, his voice steady as he urged him to come quickly to the swamp base.
To Popeye's surprise, Olbap arrived in under an hour, his white suit with purple accents pristine despite the swamp's filth, his puerple pocket square a stark contrast. His amethyst eyes, usually sharp with cunning, darkened to near-black as they swept over the scene—Kael and Toro, cleaned by Anna and Vanessa but pale as death, their wounds stark against their bloodless skin.
Olbap stood silent, his gaze fixed on the bodies, his orange-blonde hair catching the faint light filtering through the swamp's canopy. Minutes passed, his expression unreadable, his aura colder than the swamp's chill, as if the weight of their loss had frozen him in place.
Finally, he moved, kneeling before Kael and Toro. To everyone's shock, he pressed a gentle kiss to each forehead, a gesture so uncharacteristic it stunned Anna, Vanessa, Liro, and Popeye into silence. Rising, he faced Popeye, his voice devoid of warmth, a commander addressing a soldier.
"Any last words?"
Popeye nodded, swallowing hard. "Kael said thanks for the opportunity. Said these were the best five years of his life, even if we didn't spend much time together. Asked you to care for his wife and his daughter, Elin."
"And Toro?" Olbap asked, his tone flat, his eyes unyielding.
"Toro said to keep the orphanage alive, full of life. Tell the kids he's off on a grand adventure," Liro said, his eyes red, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Olbap nodded, his jaw tight. "Popeye, grab a shovel. We'll dig graves. I know a place. Liro, Anna, Vanessa—carry the bodies." His voice was iron, unyielding, cutting through the swamp's oppressive air.
They mounted horses, their hooves splashing through the shallow waters as they rode toward Brackmor's highest mountain. They arrived as dawn broke, the sun rising over the infinite ocean, painting it a deep, blood-red hue, its rays shimmering like molten fire.
The peak was windswept, the air crisp and clean, the view a stark contrast to the grief weighing on their hearts. The mountain's rocky slopes were dotted with hardy shrubs, their leaves glinting in the morning light, the sea below a mirror reflecting the dawn's fiery glow.
Popeye and Olbap dug two graves in the hard earth, their shovels scraping against stone, the sound a grim rhythm. They placed Kael and Toro within, covering them with soil, the act final and heavy. Each stepped forward, whispering farewells—thanks for their loyalty, their laughter, their brotherhood.
Olbap faced the red sea, his silhouette stark against the rising sun, his white suit glowing in the dawn's light. "With this loss, we face reality—what lies ahead. Anyone who can't bear this pain, say so now. I'll send you to another island with enough beli to never work again." Olbap said without looking at his back
Liro's voice cut through, sharp and defiant. "You think those are words for cowards, boss?"
"We've been in this from the start," Anna said, her crimson hair catching the dawn's fire, her eyes fierce despite her tears.
"You think we'd abandon you after our brothers died?" Vanessa added, her voice a mix of grief and resolve, her hands trembling.
"There's only one thing left—to avenge them and honor their wishes," Popeye said, his shovel resting on his shoulder, his youthful face hardened by loss.
Olbap smiled for the first time since arriving, a fierce, determined curve of his lips. He raised his hand to the sky, casting a shadow against the blazing sun, its heat beating down on them.
"From this day, we're no longer an organization. We're a family—the Rabocse Family. No longer Popeye, but Rabocse Popeye. Rabocse Anna, Rabocse Vanessa, Rabocse Liro, and our fallen brothers, Rabocse Kael and Rabocse Toro."
He clenched his fist, the dawn igniting his resolve, the red sea a mirror to their shared vow.
With those words, their faces lit with fierce, tear-streaked smiles, the Rabocse Family was born, bound by loss, vengeance, and an unbreakable bond.
End of the chapter.