A single ship cut through the oppressive, white veil of the Florian Triangle. On the surface, it appeared to be a standard-issue Marine cruiser, but its flag told a different story.
The red "Seagull" emblem flapped in the stagnant air—the mark of the Red Seagulls, the "Independent Vanguard Unit" led by Rear Admiral Krieg.
"Rear Admiral Krieg, sir! These waves are a nightmare. You can't read the current at all in this soup!"
The helmsman's frustration was valid. The Florian Triangle was a graveyard of ships, claiming over a hundred vessels a year.
Ghost ships, vanishing crews, and a fog so thick it felt like a physical weight on the lungs.
Krieg looked out over the bow, his new "Vanguard Mk. III" armor feeling heavy but reassuring. Gin was absent this time, left behind on Faus Island to oversee security, meaning Krieg had to micro-manage the navigation himself.
"Keep a steady heading," Krieg commanded. "We're looking for a shadow that shouldn't be here."
Suddenly, a voice cracked from the crow's nest.
"Rear Admiral! Massive shadow spotted at ten o'clock! It's... it's enormous!"
Krieg pulled a monocular from his coat and peered into the mist. A dark, jagged silhouette began to take form. It didn't look like a ship; it looked like a fortress wall rising directly out of the sea.
"Helmsman! Port side, easy! Boatswain, furl the sails! We're coming in slow!"
As they drew closer, the scale of the object became terrifying. It wasn't just a wall; it was a stone rampart encrusted with gothic architecture and eerie carvings.
"That's not a hull... " It's a castle wall," the helmsman whispered, his voice trembling.
They circled the perimeter until a massive opening appeared. It was a gate, shaped like a gargantuan, screaming mouth, its "teeth" forming a portcullis that stayed menacingly open. Krieg signaled for the ship to enter.
Once through the throat of the gate, the crew gasped. Inside the ring of the stone walls lay an entire island, complete with a dark forest and a towering mansion.
"Sir... I've studied every chart of the Florian Triangle," the navigator stammered, looking between his maps and the island ahead. "There is no island here. This shouldn't exist."
"That's because it's not an island," Krieg said, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "It's a ship. The world's largest."
This was Thriller Bark, the dreadnought of Gecko Moria. In this era, it was a mobile fortress of shadows, a place where the sunlight never reached, and the dead didn't stay buried.
"Prepare to dock," Krieg ordered, checking the Shin-Seiseiken at his hip. "And keep your weapons ready. Our host isn't known for his hospitality."
The Isle of Monsters: Rear Admiral Krieg
I ordered the ship to anchor near the "mouth" of the hull. Wanting to avoid unnecessary provocation, I stripped off most of my heavy weaponry and decided to head onto the island alone.
My subordinates protested, but I waved them off. Against a man like Gecko Moria, numbers are just a liability—more shadows for him to harvest. It's faster and safer if I move solo.
However, I did make a quick detour to the galley before departing. I had the cooks prepare "the ultimate insurance." With a bag of purified salt tucked into my belt, I used Geppo to leap from the deck and land softly on the island's soil.
The atmosphere was suffocating. "Ghost Island" would be a fitting name. The interior was ringed by crumbling, ancient walls, and in the distance, a massive, gothic mansion loomed through the fog. Beyond that, the faint silhouette of a tall mast-like tower.
Moria should be in the rear tower, I thought, recalling my knowledge of this world's "future."
I decided to walk rather than fly, taking in the scenery. I had landed away from the main entrance, so I navigated along a deep moat filled with a staggering number of skeletons—some bleached white with age, others disturbingly fresh.
West Blue once reported an entire island disappearing; looking at these walls, it's clear where it went.
I climbed a set of stone stairs leading into a dense, dark forest. The fog here was so thick it felt like walking through damp wool. Perfect for a haunted house attraction, but something felt... off.
The zombies aren't showing up, I noted, checking my surroundings.
As I cleared the forest, the faint, sickly sweet smell of decay hit my nostrils. Finally. I stood before a sprawling graveyard, keeping my senses sharp. Suddenly, pale, rotting arms erupted from the soil. Groaning and moaning, figures with skin the color of bruised fruit dragged themselves into the moonlight.
"Ah, perfect timing," I said casually. "I was starting to think this place was deserted. Would one of you be so kind as to lead me to your master?"
The stench of rot was there, but it was faint—likely a basic preservative treatment. I noticed something else, too: unlike the zombies in the original story, these weren't "stitched" or surgically enhanced. They were just... dead.
It made sense. Victoria Cindry is still alive and well at Stella Productions. Dr. Hogback never fell into despair, and he never met Moria. Without Hogback's surgical genius, these were just "normal" zombies—weaker, slower, and unmodified.
Still, their mindless groaning was getting in the way of my thoughts. I clicked a mechanism on my gauntlet, and a jet of orange flame hissed from my inner wrist.
"Listen up, zombies. One more step and I turn this graveyard into a crematorium."
"Whoa! Fire!" "Back off! Get back!" "Hey, watch it! That's dangerous, you jerk!"
They were surprisingly talkative.
"Now," I continued, "I'll make this quick. If you don't want to be toasted, take me to Gecko Moria."
"Uh, look, we have a non-disclosure agreement about the master's location..." "Yeah, it's a total compliance issue. We can't just leak that info to a Marine."
"Then take me to someone who does know."
The zombies exchanged glances, then fell into a stubborn silence. I stared them down for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine. Sorry for the trouble. I'll find my own way. Just don't get in my path."
I turned to head toward the mansion, but the silence didn't last.
"...Like we'd let you just walk away!" "Get him, boys!" "We'll show you how dangerous a zombie can be!"
They lunged in a disorganized swarm. I let out a sigh, reached behind my back, and drew my staff. In a blur of motion, I met the charge.
The struggle was brief. Within seconds, the zombies were half-buried in the dirt, heads stuck in the ground like morbid ostriches. Ignoring their muffled protests, I marched up to the massive front doors of the mansion and gave a sharp knock.
The door was opened by a zombie in a tuxedo. Unlike the rabble in the graveyard, this one was articulate and refined. I stated my rank, name, and my business as a government envoy.
I was left to wait for about an hour in a dusty parlor. Finally, the tuxedo zombie returned with a bow. "Master Moria will see you now. Please, follow me."
I followed the undead butler deeper into the shadows of the world's largest ship.
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