Deep within the jungle, everything was deathly silent.
Cold winds whistled through the trees, sending a chill over Fisher Tiger's dark red, scarred skin.
Yet the pain from the countless wounds across his body was nothing compared to the agony of the scene before him.
"What... what are you all doing?"
Fisher Tiger stared in disbelief at the dozens of "comrades" before him, instinctively taking two steps back, a chill running down his spine.
The numb, lifeless gazes now locked onto him were filled with raw, naked hunger.
"Tiger-san, I'm sorry. As a fishman, you're simply too strong..." said a man from the Longleg Tribe, his voice emotionless.
"Exactly. With your strength, you have the best chance of surviving," added a man from Kano Country, his tone cold and sinister.
"I'm grateful for all the care you've given me... but I have a child waiting for me," muttered a bearded man, his eyes red with emotion. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ Novᴇl_Fire(.)net
One after another, slaves from all corners of the world, from different races, stood there expressionless, apologizing.
They spoke of how Fisher Tiger had shared his food, shielded them from the slave traders' cruelty, and tended to their wounds — expressing their gratitude for his kindness.
Their faces were blank, their tones detached.
It was like a funeral, coldly announcing a final farewell.
Fisher Tiger's eyes filled with blood, his powerful hands clenching and unclenching, his thick lips trembling uncontrollably.
He could hardly believe it.
These companions, who had shared life and death, forged deep bonds, and even promised to become sworn brothers, were now choosing betrayal.
"This is a trap... A scam set up by the Celestial Dragons! They'll never let us go!"
Fisher Tiger shouted, his voice hoarse, trying to rouse them back to reason.
"He just wants to see us tear each other apart!!"
But their stares remained unchanged — still numb, hollow, and cold.
"We have no choice, do we?"
"This is our only hope."
It was like a hammer blow to Fisher Tiger's heart.
He opened his cracked lips to argue, but no words came out.
Even knowing the Celestial Dragon was simply toying with them, even knowing the survivor might still be denied freedom...
It was still the only chance they had left.
Six months of brutal captivity had ground down their spirits and broken their will.
Day after day of whipping, torture, humiliation, starvation, disease — and watching their comrades die howling in agony — had buried fear and despair deep into their souls.
Even with such slim hope, they had no choice but to fight.
Fisher Tiger's expression twisted in rage, his sharp teeth bared. He turned and glared furiously at the Celestial Dragon lounging arrogantly on the platform.
"Hahahahaha, yes, that's the look I want!"
Saint Phepros didn't react with anger to the fishman's defiance — he was overjoyed, laughing wildly, his face a picture of madness and exhilaration.
"To see comrades, allies, and brothers kill each other over a hollow promise...!"
"The shock, the rage, the despair on their faces... It's beautiful!"
"Hahahaha... This is the perfect masterpiece!"
"Half a year... and it was worth every second!!"
Hearing Saint Phepros' words, the CP0 agents in white robes standing guard beside him also chuckled quietly.
They knew their master well — unlike the other worthless World Nobles, Saint Phepros was a different breed: a paranoid, perfection-obsessed madman.
A man with grand, twisted ideals of "art."
"Then, let it begin!"
Saint Phepros' face flushed with excitement as he spread his arms wide in a frenzy.
"Unshackle them all!"
The moment his words fell, the guards and slave traders rushed forward, unlocking the slaves' shackles with clinking keys.
Clang, clang, clang...
The sound of heavy iron falling to the ground echoed in the air.
Fisher Tiger noticed the others' breathing grow heavier, their eyes flashing with a cruel red glint.
"The final victor will earn freedom!!"
The Celestial Dragon flung his silk robe dramatically as he gave the order.
Almost the instant his voice sounded, all the slaves moved!
Like a pack of starving wolves, they charged at Fisher Tiger.
The stench of blood and the surge of murderous intent hit him squarely, making Fisher Tiger's face change drastically.
He clenched his fists.
But just as he was about to strike, familiar faces flashed across his mind—the days they had survived together, the bonds they had built.
A trace of hesitation flickered across his face. He gritted his teeth and... loosened his fists.
The crowd overwhelmed him.
Pressed tightly in the center of the mass of bodies, Fisher Tiger found himself unable to move. Yet on his blood-smeared face, a faint smile of relief and resignation began to form.
Maybe... this was for the best after all.
Feeling the firm grip on his arms, shoulders, waist, and legs, rendering him unable to struggle, he absurdly thought so.
His eyes slowly closed.
But in the very next instant, a sudden weightlessness seized his body.
Fisher Tiger's eyes snapped open.
The expected punches and kicks didn't come.
Instead, he was... lifted into the air.
Bloody hands were hoisting him up.
No words were spoken.
Saint Phepros' face twisted in horror, sensing something was wrong.
"What are you doing!?"
"Stop them! Quickly!"
The guards and slave traders drew their weapons, but a dozen slaves threw themselves forward, blocking the path with their battered bodies. Blood splattered everywhere.
Fisher Tiger stared at those bloodshot, hollow eyes, his heart pounding fiercely, his mind reeling with realization.
"As a fishman, you're simply too strong..." the Longleg Tribe man said, still expressionless.
"That's right. With your strength, you are the one most likely to survive," the man from the Kano Country added coldly.
"Thank you for everything. Please look after my child," said the bearded man, eyes red but resolute.
The same words—but now, they carried a different meaning entirely.
Fisher Tiger's lips trembled.
All the slaves smiled at him.
"Take care, Tiger-san. The free sea awaits you."
They roared like lions, eyes bloodshot with determination—and with all their strength, they hurled Fisher Tiger far into the air!
As his body soared away, Fisher Tiger struggled to turn his head.
Through his blurred, bloodstained vision, he saw the final scene:
His comrades—scarred, bloodied, and broken—leaping forward, snarling, as they charged toward their so-called "masters"...
The shackles clattered to the ground.
Their eyes shone brightly, filled with hope and unyielding laughter.
"Come on, you damn pigs!!"
They were no longer miserable slaves.
They were free men under the sun.
p@treon com / PinkSnake