Rhett turned to Brook and Laboon. "What are your plans?"
Brook bowed deeply. "Mr. Rhett, could you tell me when exactly the partners you mentioned would find me?"
Rhett thought for a moment. Monkey D. Luffy didn't set sail until adulthood. Probably after Sea Calendar 1522.
Brook gently nudged Laboon toward Rhett. "Mr. Rhett, I hope you'll take care of Laboon. Your strength can help him grow, and your character puts me at ease."
Rhett was stunned. He'd assumed Brook would take Laboon back to the Florian Triangle.
"I plan to travel the seas and grow stronger," Brook explained. "The idea of having partners is wonderful, and I want to be strong enough to protect them. But with my limited abilities, I can't guarantee Laboon's safety. He deserves a broader stage—something I can't provide."
He smiled faintly. "Of course, staying with you would mean safety, but comfort makes me soft. I need to push my limits."
Laboon looked between Rhett and Brook, utterly bewildered. How was he supposed to choose?
And so, Rhett escorted Brook back to the Florian Triangle. As Brook put it, starting from the beginning would make the journey more rewarding. Laboon, meanwhile, clung to Rhett with teary eyes, waving goodbye to Brook.
The little whale had always been fond of Rhett. He loved all the Roger Pirates, but if he had to pick a favorite, Rhett would definitely rank high.
With Laboon in tow—and a ragtag crew of unwilling pirates—Rhett drifted aimlessly until they reached the mist-shrouded waters of the Florian Triangle.
There, emerging from the night fog, was Moriah's colossal ship, the Thriller Bark, wreathed in eerie green flames.
Rhett stood calmly at the prow of the Oro Jackson.
Moriah loomed atop his ship's figurehead, his massive frame casting a long shadow. His bat-winged collar flapped in the wind as he grinned.
"Fos-fos-fos... 'Crimson Mist,' the dagger of the Roger Pirates. Alone in my territory?"
Rhett didn't answer. He simply lifted his head, crimson eyes glinting coldly in the moonlight.
The sorrow of parting still weighed on him, and he needed an outlet.
Hefting the Black Tide greatsword onto his shoulder, he finally spoke. "Since when was this your territory?"
Moriah's grin faded. "So you're here for trouble."
Rhett's voice was low and rough. "No talk. Just fight."
This wasn't the bloated Moriah of later years. This was a battle-hardened young man.
Moriah's hand slashed downward. His shadow split apart, morphing into a swarm of shrieking black bats that dove at Rhett!
*"Shadow Horn!"*
Rhett's eyes narrowed. His left hand flicked out, and a barrier of crimson mist solidified in midair. The bats corroded instantly upon contact.
"Fos-fos-fos... Interesting!" Moriah laughed before vanishing. A split second later, his shadow surged up behind Rhett—massive scissor-hands slashing down!
*"Shadow Doppelganger: Decapitation!"*
Rhett didn't turn. He sidestepped slightly, and his blade flashed from its sheath—
*"Mist God Style·Instant Flash!"*
A crescent of blood-red light sliced through the air, bisecting Moriah's shadow. But more shadows surged from all directions, swallowing Rhett whole.
*"Shadow Box!"*
Moriah clapped his hands together. The shadows compressed, forming an inescapable prison.
"Fos-fos-fos... It's over!" Moriah crowed—
*"Mist God Style·Silence."*
*BOOM!*
The shadow-box exploded from within. Rhett shot out like a specter, his blade aimed straight for Moriah's throat.
Moriah barely dodged, but Rhett was faster.
Three streaks of crimson light crisscrossed. Moriah's cloak fluttered to the deck in tatters, three gashes now bleeding across his chest.
"Damn it... You're terrifying!" Moriah roared, slamming both palms onto the deck—
*"Shadow Asgard!"*
His shadow swelled into a towering black giant, its fist crashing down toward Rhett!
Rhett didn't retreat. He charged forward, his body wreathed in crimson mist—
*"Mist God Style·Annihilation!"*
*BOOOOOOM!*
The collision sent shockwaves rippling through the sea, waves erupting dozens of meters high.
When the dust cleared, Rhett stood there, coldly watching.
Moriah knelt on the figurehead, panting heavily. His shadow construct had shattered.
"Fos-fos-fos..." He grinned despite the pain, eyes alight with exhilaration. "Roger's crew... You really are monsters."
Rhett straightened, flicking blood-mist from his blade. "You lost."
Moriah laughed suddenly. "Fos-fos-fos... Yeah, I did! But that fight... That was fun!"
Rhett sheathed his sword and turned away. "Didn't feel like it. See you around."
Moriah, oddly charmed, called after him. "Want to come aboard? Have a drink."
Rhett figured he had time to kill. "Why not."
Laboon hopped down from the ship after him.
Contrary to rumors, Moriah's fleet wasn't some ghoul-infested nightmare. The deck was littered with post-feast barrels, and a group of cheerful zombie squirrels were hauling crates of fresh oranges.
Apparently, Moriah had always had a zombie-making habit. The difference was, before his defeat by Kaido, it'd been more of a side gig—something to liven things up. Afterward? It became his entire personality.
"Fos-fos-fos... Rhett of Roger's crew?" Moriah emerged from the shadows, his expression unexpectedly mild. "Heard you all disbanded?"
"None of your business," Rhett said flatly.
Moriah just chuckled. With a wave of his hand, a zombie butler brought steaming black tea.
"Perona made it. She adds ghost-pollen—makes you melancholic."