Chapter 19 – Three Days of Hell (Day Two)

Year 1511

Mad Hat Island had turned into an apocalypse stage. Thick smoke billowed from crumbling buildings, the scent of blood and gunpowder mingled in the air, pierced by pirates' mad laughter and victims' screams. The second day of the assault began earlier—and more brutally. The eastern market was seized by the Serpent Smile Pirates, while the western district fell under the Butcher Fang Pirates. The only remaining strategic point was the southern port—where Gerald Lazhar's weapon shop stood.

Atop the cracking roof of the shop, Bastien stood still. His gaze swept across the chaos engulfing the city. His breath was heavy, his body tense, cold sweat dripped down his face even as heat scorched the air.

This was no longer a fight against street thugs. This was hell.

Below, Lazhar stood calmly, like an ancient statue immune to time and madness. "Bastien," he said, his voice light as usual. "You'll face Butcher Fang. Alone."

Bastien snapped his head around, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. "Sorry, what? Alone? Butcher Fang can chew raw iron and burp!"

"Consider it trauma therapy," Lazhar replied casually. "If you go down, I'll step in. But you need to try first."

Arthur, standing not far off, looked pale. "So what do I do? Watch and eat popcorn?"

Lazhar nodded toward the east. "You'll face Serpent Smile. Make sure she doesn't spread poison to the port."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "One's a crocodile monster, the other a venomous snake... I'm allergic to reptiles, you know?"

"No."

"Yeah, I just found out too," Arthur muttered in resignation, raising his weapon.

Shouts and booms echoed from the west—Butcher Fang emerged in a hybrid form, half-man, half-crocodile. His body was massive, armored in steel-like scales, and his gaping jaws emitted a growl that made the glass tremble. Bastien took a deep breath and leapt down.

"Alright then. You and me, failed Godzilla."

The battle exploded in the main street. Bastien fired bullet after bullet, but none pierced Butcher's hide. The monster laughed, sweeping debris aside with his massive tail. Bastien rolled and jumped, dodging blow after deadly blow.

"Stop running! Face me like a man!" Butcher roared.

"I'm fifteen! I don't even have an ID yet!" Bastien shouted, then hurled a smoke bomb at his enemy.

While dodging, Bastien began planting traps along the road. His homemade bombs were hidden in poles and rubble. When Butcher passed by, explosions rocked the streets. The ground quaked. Butcher was injured—one eye bleeding—but he remained standing, now even angrier.

In the city's eastern market, Arthur wore a makeshift gas mask that looked like tin cans and duct tape. He held a steel mace in one hand, with several gas canisters hanging from his back.

Serpent Smile stood at the end of a corridor shrouded in purple mist, her body flexible and slick like a snake ready to devour. "A little boy sent to fight me? Adorable. Want to play snakes and ladders, kid?"

Arthur lit a small flare and grinned. "I prefer 'burn the snake's nest'."

He leapt, swinging his mace. Serpent Smile slithered aside, spitting poison toward Arthur. The boy rolled to the side, slammed the floor, and trapped the enemy in a wooden pitfall he had prepared.

Serpent Smile howled in fury. "Using dirty tricks on a woman? How rude!"

"You're not a woman. You're a snake with lipstick," Arthur shot back, firing a smoke round that exploded in front of her face.

Their fight was wild and nearly comical. Arthur lured the enemy into tight spaces, filling the area with toxic gas. But just as he was about to light the flames, Serpent Smile slipped away through the vents.

"Cheap tricks won't work twice," the snake hissed, her whip snapping, nearly grazing Arthur's head.

The battle turned into a deadly dance—full of feints, baits, and screams of frustration.

"If I die, tell Bastien his mask design sucks!" Arthur shouted, leaping over a fence.

"Also tell Arthur," Bastien said on the other side of town, "If he survives, I'll fix it. If he dies… I'll make a smaller version."

In the western district, Bastien was thrown into a wall. His back bruised, hands bloody. But he still stood. Butcher Fang was drenched in blood from his eye, his jaw trembling with rage.

"You're stubborn, kid," Butcher growled. "I like that. Makes the screaming last longer."

"Thanks... I guess?" Bastien wobbled to his feet. "Is that... a compliment from a psychotic crocodile?"

Butcher swung his tail again. Bastien barely dodged in time.

Both sides of the city burned with combat—Bastien managed to blind one of Butcher's eyes, but the monster still rose and chewed through a steel barrel. Arthur had trapped Serpent Smile in a gas-filled room, but the enemy morphed into a liquid form, seeping out like poisonous mist.

Both were bleeding. Exhausted. But still standing.

From afar, Lazhar watched from a crumbling tower. His face unchanged—calm, though his fists clenched tightly.

Twilight crept away. From the open sea, a Marine warship appeared, still distant but slowly entering the island's shadow. On its deck, a woman stood tall. Her long black hair whipped by the wind. Her sharp eyes gazed at Mad Hat Island through a spyglass.

"This island still stands," she murmured. "But not for much longer."

Her name: Momosagi Gion.

Night fell. The city fell silent again—as if exhausted from blood and fire. Among the ruins of the weapon shop, Bastien sat slumped. His face bruised, clothes torn. Moments later, Arthur appeared, limping, his mask hanging crookedly.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked, half laughing, half coughing.

"Still alive. Butcher too. He doesn't seem sleepy yet," Bastien replied.

"Serpent's not satisfied either. She invited me to play hide and seek—but with poison and a whip. Delightful."

They chuckled quietly. Bitter, tired, but also... sincere.

"Funny, huh," Bastien said, staring at the pitch-black night sky. "I thought being a hero was about winning. Turns out… it's about still standing, even when you're beat to hell."

Arthur nodded. "If we die tomorrow... you regret anything?"

Bastien looked out at the wrecked city. "No. 'Cause in this broken place... I met you guys. I found a reason to fight."

Arthur took a deep breath. "If you talk like you're gonna die again, I'm slapping you with a sandal."

Bastien laughed. "Fine. Live first, be a philosopher later."

In the distance, through the rubble, enemy footsteps returned. There was no time to rest. Day three was coming. Hell still waited.