Where Dreams Die (III)

"I forfeit," I said, throwing my hands up in a casual shrug.

A wave of boos exploded from the crowd. I hadn't paid them much attention during the fight, but judging from their reactions, they'd been genuinely enjoying themselves. Too bad for them—I'd gotten what I came for, so there was no reason to stick around.

"Look, that was my strongest attack," I called out over the noise. "Besides, I'm terrible at unarmed combat."

My words didn't do much to calm them. They just kept on hurling objects, jeers, and insults my way. Not that they had any chance of actually hitting me. But then I felt it—a sudden shift in the air, a familiar tingle at the edge of my senses as a bullet zipped into my observation range. Van Augur. That sniper was persistent; I'd give him that. Deliberately, I slowed my reaction time, dodging at the last second. I pivoted my body to look directly in the direction of the shot. From across the island, Augur's eyes met mine, narrowed and calculating. Keeping him in my line of sight, I let malice creep into my voice as I spoke.

"Old man, why's your sniper shooting at me?"

The crowd, silenced by the sound of the bullet, stood in eerie quiet as Blackbeard's booming laughter filled the air.

"You're something else, Brat! Zehahahaha!" His laughter echoed through the crowd. "Strong enough to take on Burgess and sharp enough to dodge Augur's bullets. I like you more now. Join my crew, and I promise you'll never be bored."

I shifted my gaze back to him, feigning a look of intrigue. "You'll have to take responsibility, old man. If I ever get bored, I'll be coming for your head."

"Zehahahahahaha! Fair enough!" Blackbeard roared, seemingly delighted by the idea.

"So, what should I call you, then, old man?"

"People call me Blackbeard. But you can call me Captain."

Van Augur POV:

Fate and destiny—these were more than words to Van Augur. They were guiding principles. Fate determined the course of lives, and no mere human could argue against it. And yet, people believed they could defy their destinies—a foolishly arrogant notion.

Meeting his captain had been fate, a rare moment of clarity in a world full of uncertainty. Augur found himself drawn to Blackbeard not only as a fellow believer in destiny but as a man who seemed capable of bending the world's fabric itself. Blackbeard was, in Augur's eyes, a great man. One whose vision would reshape everything; a person destined for a remarkable, world-shaking path. Even fate, as Augur saw it, seemed to approve of his captain's ambitions.

But Blackbeard had his faults, and one of them was his impulsiveness. Normally, Augur could ignore it—after all, Blackbeard's charisma and strength often smoothed over any impulsive decisions. But this time, Augur felt troubled. The source of his discomfort? A recent recruit. Barely a day had passed since Blackbeard met this kid in a pub, and already, the captain liked him more than Burgess. Of course, Burgess was no genius, but the speed at which Blackbeard trusted this newcomer was unnerving.

After receiving orders to keep an eye on the recruit, Augur had done his part, tracking the kid's movements from a distance of miles. He used every trick he knew, every ounce of Observation Haki, yet he couldn't shake a feeling that gnawed at him—that the kid was aware of being watched. It was unsettling. Augur was the sniper, the one who observed the unseen. But he had sensed, at times, the weight of another's gaze on him—a phantom observation, creeping and unnatural.

At first, he brushed it off as paranoia. But the feeling persisted, enough that he'd started to believe his senses weren't playing tricks after all. Even fully activating his Haki, he detected no immediate threat, though his instincts told him otherwise. The kid had already unnerved him, which was rare for someone with Augur's experience.

Tonight, they were set to meet the recruit officially. Blackbeard had given them a time and location—some cheap motel near the outskirts of town. Blackbeard himself had taken a detour for his favorite pie and wouldn't be joining them until after "pleasantries" had been exchanged. Augur could still hear Burgess grumbling as they walked.

"I don't like this guy. Captain shouldn't have asked him to join us," Burgess muttered, his words weighted with frustration.

"You're just mad because he punched you," Doc Q chimed in, his voice sickly as usual, while he struggled to keep balance on his ill-looking horse, Stronger.

"No, it's more than that," Augur said, casting a wary glance at the road ahead. "There's something strange about him. The whole situation feels staged, like he anticipated every one of our captain's moves."

"That's impossible," Doc Q replied, wheezing. "Nobody knows him that well."

They reached the meeting spot, but as they stepped closer, a strange sensation washed over Augur—a feeling of cold dread creeping along his spine, tightening like a vise around his senses. Something was wrong. Just as he opened his mouth to warn the others, a dark blur cut across his vision.

A pitch-black blade gleamed in the moonlight, slicing Stronger in half with a single, clean stroke. Red hot blood poured out of its body, creating a haunting sight. Doc Q, despite his sickly appearance, was quite quick on his feet. He had jumped at the last moment, which saved his life. But he was not fast enough.

A bone chilling scream echoed through the air as he looked at the stump where his right hand had been just moments ago. None of them moved a single muscle as they looked at the dismembered arm in front of them.

Van Augur's gaze snapped up, heart hammering as he looked upon a figure dressed in black, his face concealed behind a featureless mask, only showing his bright green eyes. The sight of him was enough to send a wave of terror coursing through Augur's body.

Despite the mask, however, Augur knew exactly who this person was. The so-called recruitment had been staged because this entire setup had been nothing but a trap. The figure spoke, his voice dripping with amusement and tinged with a dark arrogance.

"Finally, I don't have to pretend to be that edgy loner anymore. One more day, and I might've died of embarrassment." His gaze, predatory and piercing, locked onto Augur, twin emerald eyes gleaming with an eerie intensity. "This is all your fault, Van Augur. I hate leaving loose ends, but you wouldn't just come down from your rooftops, would you? Though I suppose I miscalculated—Laffitte isn't here. Off to Mary Geoise, is he?"

Their shock intensified into pure horror. How could he possibly know that? Piece by piece, the facts clicked into place in their minds. This stranger's face was unknown, yet he had the strength to challenge Burgess, the agility to dodge Augur's bullets, and the stealth to ambush them without triggering their Haki. He even seemed disturbingly well-informed about their crew's inner workings. There was only one explanation: he was an assassin, likely sent by the Whitebeard Pirates, with orders to eliminate their captain.

But no, that couldn't be right. Whitebeard wasn't the type to hire assassins. If he wanted Blackbeard dead, he'd send Ace himself. And besides, this level of precision felt far more personal. None of that mattered, though, as Augur's focus shifted to a singular goal: survival. All they had to do was hold out until Blackbeard arrived. Once their captain showed up, everything would be fine.

But just as the thought flickered in Augur's mind, a flash of orange light exploded against the darkened sky. Flames, bright and ferocious, illuminated the night, casting a fiery glow over everything.

"It looks like Ace has already started," the masked figure said, his tone chillingly casual. "Guess I can't slack off either, now, can I?"