Chapter 34: Into the Jungle

The jungle felt alive, buzzing with tension as Grint's pirates spread out in every direction, combing through the thick foliage with a mix of purpose and unease. For all their experience on the seas, they weren't built for this kind of hunt. The heat, the dense greenery, the strange sounds coming from all around—it was starting to get under their skin.

And that was exactly what Vulcan wanted.

Hidden high in the branches of a tree, Vulcan watched the pirates with an amused grin. They moved clumsily through the underbrush, hacking away at vines with machetes, cursing under their breath as insects buzzed around their heads. He could already see their frustration building. They were tired, annoyed, and worst of all—afraid. The island wasn't giving up its secrets easily, and it was only a matter of time before they snapped.

Vulcan's eyes scanned the pirates below him. There were about four of them in this group, all heavily armed but clearly uneasy. They weren't used to the jungle, and every rustle of the leaves or crack of a branch had them jumping at shadows.

Perfect.

He tightened his grip on the branch, his naginata strapped securely to his back. These men weren't Grint, but they'd do for now. He didn't need to take down the captain just yet—he wanted to chip away at his crew first, weaken them, get inside their heads. A full frontal assault wouldn't work on Grint's men. They needed to be afraid, broken down one piece at a time.

With a quick movement, Vulcan disappeared from the tree branch, using Soru to close the distance between him and the pirates in a split second. Before they even knew what was happening, he was among them, striking like a shadow.

The first pirate didn't even have time to scream. Vulcan's hand shot out, delivering a sharp, precise Shigan to the man's throat. The pirate crumpled to the ground without a sound, his body going limp as the others turned, startled.

"W-What the hell was that?!" one of the pirates shouted, stumbling back.

Vulcan didn't answer. He was already moving, using the jungle to his advantage. He slipped into the undergrowth, reappearing behind the second pirate before the man could react. A swift strike to the back of the neck with the butt of his naginata sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.

The remaining two pirates were panicking now, their eyes darting around as they backed up against each other, weapons drawn. "Show yourself!" one of them yelled, his voice shaky. "You think you can—?"

His words were cut off by a sharp rustling sound from the bushes behind them. Both pirates whipped around, their nerves shot. Vulcan grinned, watching from the shadows as they frantically tried to locate him.

They were rattled. Good.

One of the pirates cursed under his breath, gripping his sword tighter. "I don't like this, man. This island's messed up."

The other nodded quickly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What if it's a... ghost or something? I swear I saw something moving in the trees..."

Vulcan almost laughed. A ghost, huh? Well, he wasn't going to correct them. If they wanted to believe the jungle was haunted, he wasn't about to stop them.

He circled around them, moving silently through the foliage, watching as the pirates grew more and more paranoid. One of them was trembling now, his hands slick with sweat as he glanced over his shoulder.

"W-We should regroup," one of them muttered. "Tell the captain we—"

He didn't finish. With a burst of speed, Vulcan darted forward, using Soru to close the gap in an instant. His naginata swung out in a blur, slicing through the air and knocking the sword from the pirate's hand. The man yelped, stumbling backward into his companion.

Before either of them could react, Vulcan was gone again, disappearing into the jungle as if he'd never been there. The pirates stood frozen, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, eyes wide with fear.

"Wh-Where is he?!" one of them shouted, spinning in circles. "Where the hell did he go?!"

Vulcan watched from the shadows, his grin widening. They were completely unraveled now, their fear outweighing any sense of logic. He didn't even need to strike again—they'd tear themselves apart.

The pirates turned on each other, one accusing the other of not watching his back, their tempers flaring as panic set in. It wasn't long before they abandoned their post, running back through the jungle to regroup with the others, their morale shattered.

Vulcan waited until they were long gone before stepping out from his hiding spot. He looked down at the two pirates still lying unconscious on the ground and gave a low chuckle. Too easy.

But this was just the start. He wasn't going to take them all out one by one. No, he had something bigger in mind—something that would break Grint and his crew completely. But first, he needed to buy himself some more time.

As he turned to leave, Vulcan bent down, grabbing a handful of leaves and bloodied earth from the scuffle. He tossed it over the unconscious pirates, creating a scene that looked like a violent struggle. The jungle itself would be blamed. After all, these men were already convinced the island was cursed.

Grint's men would start to wonder if they were being hunted by something far worse than a fellow human.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Vulcan headed deeper into the jungle, moving swiftly as he planned his next move. His mind buzzed with possibilities, each one more satisfying than the last. He didn't need to kill them all—just enough to make Grint paranoid. A few more ambushes like this, and the captain's crew would be in shambles.

Hours later, Vulcan crouched high in a tree, watching from a distance as the remnants of Grint's crew stumbled back to the camp. Their faces were pale, their movements stiff with fear. Grint was already waiting for them, his expression twisted with impatience.

"What the hell happened?!" Grint barked, his voice echoing through the camp. "Where's the rest of your men?!"

The pirates exchanged nervous glances, each one unwilling to answer. Finally, one of them stepped forward, his hands trembling. "Captain, there's... something out there," he muttered. "Something's picking us off."

Grint's scowl deepened. "What are you talking about?"

"The jungle, Captain," the pirate said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's like the island itself is alive. We couldn't even see who or what was hitting us. It's like—like we're being hunted."

Grint's expression darkened as he listened. His eyes flicked to Rhys, who stood nearby, arms crossed. "Rhys, you believe this nonsense?"

Rhys didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the jungle beyond the camp, as if trying to sense something lurking in the shadows. "I don't know, Captain," he muttered. "But something's not right. We're losing men, and we don't even know to what."

Grint slammed his fist into the table beside him, causing it to splinter. "I don't give a damn what it is! We'll flush it out. Burn the jungle if we have to. But we're getting that Devil Fruit, no matter what."

Vulcan watched the exchange from afar, his grin widening. So, Grint was getting desperate. Good. That's exactly what he wanted.

As night began to fall, Vulcan made his way back to his camp, his mind buzzing with the next phase of his plan. He was going to need that Devil Fruit soon, but for now, it was still safe where he had left it—with the beast.

A chuckle escaped him as he remembered how he had snuck back to the center of the island to place the fruit near the beast again. He hadn't exactly wanted to face the creature after what he'd done the last time they met, so he had been extra careful.

In fact, the whole thing had been a bit... ridiculous.

Flashback:

Vulcan crouched low in the bushes, clutching the Devil Fruit tightly in one hand. His eyes were fixed on the massive creature sleeping in the clearing ahead of him. The beast was even more imposing up close, its gigantic form rising and falling with each breath.

"Alright, Vulcan," he whispered to himself. "Just get in, drop the fruit, and get out. No need to wake him up."

He edged closer, his movements slow and deliberate, not daring to make a sound. Every time the beast shifted in its sleep, Vulcan froze, holding his breath. The memory of their last encounter—the naginata, the screaming, the frantic chase—was still fresh in his mind.

When he was close enough, Vulcan carefully placed the Devil Fruit on the ground, just out of the beast's reach. Then, without wasting another second, he slowly started backing away.

But just as he turned to leave, his foot caught on a branch. He tripped, landing face-first in the dirt with a loud thud.

The beast stirred, letting out a low, rumbling growl as its eyes blinked open. Vulcan's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing.

"Oh no."

Without a second thought, Vulcan scrambled to his feet, his hands and knees covered in dirt. He didn't look back—he didn't dare. He bolted through the jungle, the sound of the beast's heavy breathing echoing behind him.

Present:

Vulcan shook his head, still grinning at the memory. He had barely escaped that day, but it was worth it. The Devil Fruit was back with the beast, and Grint's men would never think to search there again.

As he settled in for the night, Vulcan's thoughts turned back to the crew he had rattled earlier. They were running scared now, and it wouldn't be long before Grint himself started to crack.

"Tomorrow," Vulcan muttered to himself. "Tomorrow, we'll see how desperate you really are, Grint."

And with that, he closed his eyes, the jungle around him humming with the promise of the chaos to come.