The crowd hollered and howled, creating the ‘arena’ that was to be a ritual to their god, the man before him, Ezekiel J. Moses the one who calls himself ‘The Prophet’ bared his blood soaked claws. “Please doth thou best to appease ye lord, for he hath the role of devil.’’ He yelled, charging towards the pirate, his movements awkward but rangey due to the length of his limbs. Bazil quickly changed his hands into kukri blades, intercepting the prophets armored hands, much to shock of the crowd. Blinded by his almost feral like disposition, Ezekiel hadn’t notice the mans hands themselves were the weapons. Instead he quickly retracted his arms and began frantically slashing them about, throwing bladed haymakers wildly, it was clear this man had no real fighting skill or experience having gotten by on his sheer size and charisma alone.
The man known as the red devil, easily dodged his pathetic advances, having now been battle tested during his time on Sandy Island. Bazil created space between them by quickly back pedaling away from the lumbering giant man, his hands now returned to normal, his right index finger elongated into a brown leather whip, around ten meters long. Snapping his wrist and using his opposite hand as a way to create a larger ‘snap’ from the whip, the metal tipped end swung viciously into the side of Ezekiel, sending him flying several meters, taking out a large section of the human ring with his body. Laughing maliciously, the cloth that had disguised his appearance slowly dropped to the ground as it unwound, his spiky red hair shooting up as soon as it was free from bondage. The mass of blood soaked bodies fell silent as they slowly realized the true identity of the man was non other than Bazil Styx, the one whom they worshipped so fanatically. Dragging his tall slender body from the rubble that had been created by the impact, Ezekiel looked up as his disciples helped him to his feet. Wide eyed like a kid on Christmas, The Prophet quickly made his way over to the pirate, throwing himself at the young man’s feet.
“Oh, ye great angel of death!” Ezekiel shouted, his arms shot to the sky as the entirety of the crowd dropped to their knees, foreheads to the ground as they began worshipping the pirate. “Thou hath responded to our works! All of this hath been committed in thou’s honor! Ist thou pleased?!” Bazil looked around at the gathered cultists, wearing nothing but crimson red cloaks with black trim, their bare flesh painted in red from those that fell to their weapons.
“Uh, yea sure, this is cool, I guess?” Bazil responded, clearly confused by the entirety of the situation as he looked out to the crowd, who were now staring at him with baited breath, hanging on every word he spoke.
“Thou hast approved! Ye great angel doth say thou art cool!” Ezekiel exclaimed, rocketing to his feet, the man’s seven foot stature greatly dwarfing that of Bazil. The crowd roared, praising the demon as they resumed their blood soaked orgy, calling his name with every movement. The Prophet motioned him towards a small hut around ten meters away from heir current position. The outside walls were plastered in satanic symbols painted with blood, opening the curtain that acted as a door, Bazil was greeted with a face full of smoke and a hint of something putrid.
On the floor of the shack were the mutilated bodies of six adult men, six adult women, and six children, their pieces were laid out in the form of a six pointed star, with their left hands as the points. In each hand rested a lit candle, gold coins and severed snake heads, totaling six of each. Across the room sat a man wearing a severed goat head as a mask, his legs were crossed and in his bloodied hands he held a large knife and wooden cross which was held upside down and was used to stir the black cauldron that was in front of him, the cauldron itself was the source of the smoke which had filled every inch of the small, one room shack. Though unknown to Bazil, the smoke had hallucinogenic properties, the effects of which had already begun to take ahold of Ezekiel, “Ist thou ready to meet thy god?” His words trailed off as his tall body leaned into the wall and began to slowly slide down to the floor.
Realizing what was happening all too late, the pirate turned to make for the door, however his legs gave out from underneath of him, the image of the door was the last thing his eyes would see as he faded away from consciousness.
Opening his eyes, a harsh desert light seared his corneas like tuna steaks, his hands immediately shooting up to provide shade for them. Squinting as much as he could, the pirate scanned his surroundings, a dry flat wasteland, the ground cracked and fissured from drought. In this distance a large shadow could be soon, with what looked to be a lone tree, providing the solitary shade in this barren place. Bazil drug himself up to his feet, only to realize he wore nothing, save a single, albeit slightly above average leaf over his genitalia.
“Fuckin a, not again.” Bazil mumbled as he looked down at himself, holding a scar on the left side of his abdomen from a previous similar instance where he had awoken naked in a tub of ice. Sighing, the pirate made his way over the terrain, the heat line could be seen on the horizon. As he approached the shadow, its image became clearer, it was that of the red lion with black flame patterns that he had seen in his dream at Gilbard’s. The Alabastan crown sat upon his head as his body sprawled out over that rock as it had once before. “Ayo, didn’t I already fuckin kill you once?” The demon pirate barked.
The great lion lifted its head up and roared in laughter, “I am your true strength, I am much too strong for you to kill with that worthless devil’s power.” The lions booming voice descended upon the pirate, his tone full of arrogance, “Now, what is it you have come here for?” The beast eyes like knives, the predatory glare laced with malice.
“Watch your tone, I’m in the market for a new coat already.” Bazil snapped back, his toothy grin on full display, proving that they shared the same level of arrogance. The lion roared in response, it carried across the empty wasteland for miles, its sound enough to put the fear in the largest of creature. Yet Bazil stood strong, his devilish grin never fading, he just stood there and waited, his lead blowing back and forth as the force from the beast blew past them. Lasting for ten seconds, the lion trailed off and looked down on the pirate once more, “Sheww, get a fuckin tic tac.” The pirate quipped, waving his hand in front of his nose.
Once more the lion roared in laughter, “Your arrogance truly knows no bounds.” He paused, climbing down from his shaded perch, “As I’d expect from the one who would be a ‘king’ as we are one and the same, I-….” The lion began to move into a lecture before being abruptly cut off by Bazil.
“Look pussy, I aint got fuckin time for long winded speech, just cut to the fuckin chase.” The pirate rudely responded, gesturing his hands as a way to emphasize hurrying up. The lion snickered, nodding that he understood what Bazil requested, suddenly he was struck from behind by a eight foot koala in gladiator armor, the warrior beast wielding a hammer in his left hand and a short sword in the right.
The pirate was sent flying around fifteen meters, the dry ground being kicked up as he bounced across it like a rock skipping across a pond. The koala beast roared triumphantly and then charged at Bazil the second he stopped tumbling, realizing this the pirate whipped up his right arm, imagining it in the form of a cannon, one large enough to split the beast in two, only to realize his arm had remained in its human form, the fifteen meter gap was closed in a matter of seconds and the beast once more struck the pirate with his hammer, this time teeing off on Bazil as if he was a golf ball, sending him flying back in the direction of the lion once again. Scrambling to his feet, his glare shot towards the red lion who now stood next time him snickering, “The fuck is this shit?!”
“You said you didn’t have time for an explanation, didn’t you?” The beast mocked in his ear, while the armored koala roared once more.
“Why can’t I use my powers” Bazil snapped at the lion, showing an uncharacteristic worrying his tone, his once immeasurable arrogance now wavering ever so slightly.
“You can use ‘your’ power, just not those borrowed from that filthy devil you love to rely on.” The lion replied, quickly moving away from the pirate just as he had spoken, as once more the giant gladiator rushed him, hammer cocked back for another swing. Unsure of what he meant by those words, Bazil’s gaze hung onto the lions figure a second to long and was one again blasted with the beast’s hammer, sending him through the air once more with such for that it knocked out the pirates long braid. Once more the pirate drug himself up, his long red hair now draped down his shoulders and back, flowing into the streams of crimson that ran from the wounds along his body. Slouching over and holding his left shoulder, he jerked it up and in, back into the socket from which is was dislocated out of. His breathing was labored and his body was fatigued, without the powers granted by the Buki-Buki no mi, he cannot hope to defeat the gladiator before him. “Whats wrong?” The lion mocked him from afar, “Can you not best such a foe?” The beast chuckled as the enranged koala once more charged him, this time moving the hand with the short sword, thrusting the tip straight towards Bazil, who never saw the hit coming, the blade slicing into his abdomen. The pirate began spitting blood, his vision distorted, he could hear the lion calling out to him, “Die here and you will never wake up, the world having forgotten all about the man you were.” The words echoed in his head as the gladiator slowly unsheathed the blade from his body, looking up at the beast he brandished his signature smile and began laughing maliciously, the arrogant demon known as Bazil Styx has returned once more to laugh in the face of death, for if he were to die here it couldn’t be in such an unbefitting way. Standing up, the blood rushed from his side, but his head and vision were clearer than they had ever been, he could feel the sensation of a sight beyond sight, something he just couldn’t explain. It was like he was one with everything, he could feel the presence of the lion and the koala beast, the entire fiber of Bazil’s felt as if had been unified with one clear, single objective, to fight off the invading gladiator and live, so he can go on to cement his place in history, as a king, as a legend.
Bazil’s eyes took on a reddish hue, the koala thrusted his blade at the pirate once more, this time however, Bazil dodged. His movements crisper, cleaner than before, the blade struck into the already fissured ground, in anger the beast swung down its hammer in response, the red glow of his trailing off as he dodged almost effortlessly once again, his gaze never once leaving the beasts figure as he paced back about seven meters to create space between the two of them. “Eh yo pussy, why don’t you listen up real quick.” Bazil yelled to the lion, never once averting his gaze from the beast in front of him, “Im gonna be a fuckin legend, king of everything, every motherfucker in the whole world is gonna know the name Bazil Fuckin Styx!” The pirated screamed out, echoed by his malicious laugh, as he did crimson red liquid began to bubble out from the cracks in the dry dirt, oozing and flowing towards the young man. “I am a fuckin devil and this is my fuckin power.” He finished as the bubbling liquid seeped into his wounds and orifices, the ooze culminating into a devilish like figure that let out a spine chilling shriek, before forcing itself down the pirates throat. The lion stood in awe along, the entire event only takin but a few seconds before all of the liquid had been taken into his body, afterwards Bazil began looking at his hands, moving them about in front of his before turning his right arm into a scythe blade. “Ahh, now that’s much better.” His devilish grin in full force, the koala withdrew his blade from the ground and for a third time thrusted at the red haired pirate, using his bladed arm Bazil intercepted the blade away, sparks flew from the two metal weapon as the grinded against each other, culminating in the short sword being redirected into the ground once more. Using his left arm, Bazil took advantage of the opening he had made turned his arm into a spear that pierced into the gladiator’s stomach, directly under his golden chest plate. Thinking he had achieved victory Bazil allowed his arrogance to cloud his judgment for just one second, but that was all the time the koala had needed, the one moment of clouded mind prevented him from predicting the hammer once more colliding with his body. Like a ragdoll, his body whipped across the wasteland, twisting and contorting through the air, though he had dealt a killing blow to the beast, it looked as if he had done the same to Bazil. Kicking up dust as he landed the pirate coughed up blood once more, his chest was now caved in, his breathing was more labored by the second, his vision blurring he noticed the flame patterned red lion kneeling in front of him.
“Your future is as unpredictable as your nature, something that can only awe and terrify those you come across.” The lion whispered into the pirate’s ear, his consciousness fading in and out, Bazil could hear the faint cry of someone calling to him. ‘Lord..’ he heard, ‘Lord wake up!’ in his dying stupor he saw Yasuke’s kind facing urging him to live.
“Lord, ist thou well?” Ezekiel’s voice was now loud and clear and the kind round face of Yasuke was replaced by the pale, almost vampiric face of the prophet, the light from the sun shining through the windows signaling he had been out all night,. “Ist thou still with thee living” Bazil’s eyes began to flutter open, his mouth separated, the sound of the dry flesh inside unsticking itself could be heard, his right hand shot to his chest clutching it as if to ensure it was still there , “Bring water, thou lord is parched!” The prophet yelled to a woman nearby, motioning his hands to the jug on the far table, having been moved from the small smoke filled shack to a lavished room, full of trinkets and beli, clothes and weapons. Rushing over, Ezekiel snatched the cup from the girl and placed it to Bazil’s lips, “Here thy lord, drink this, I hath retrieved water for thou” He said, tipping the cup just enough for the water to run down his throat, the pirate’s Adams apple bouncing with every gulp.
Bazil, after drinking the water the was offered too him quickly shot his left arm up and placed his thumb against the prophet’s neck, extending it out into a eight inch curved blade that ran across the length of his neck and out hooking out towards his nape, one false move and the sickle like weapon would behead him in seconds. “What.. the fuck did you do to me..?!” He demanded to know coughing amongst the words, his throat and mouth still heavily afflicted by cottonmouth.
“Calm down, Lord.” Ezekiel said slowly, sweat dripping from his brow, well aware of how volatile the pirate could be, “Explain,” He snapped his fingers at the woman who had previously given him the water.
“It…it’s a drug m-made here locally” The girl stammered as she spoke, clearly fearing for Ezekiel’s life, gripping the cloak that covered her bare body she mustered up the courage to speak to the ‘angel’ that in her presence. “It’s called K0-ALA, a man made substance combining the effects of a prototype for the devil’s elixir and local poppy plants, the resulting chemical is then burned into the air and provides severe hallucinogenic effects coupled with a mild paralysis of the nervous system that could potentially even result in cardiac arrest.” The girl finished, showing off her true knowledge of the substance.
Bazil snickered at her response as it now made perfect sense, withdrawing his bladed thumb from Ezekiel’s neck, much to the prophets relief, “Do forgive me oh lord, I hath thought it would be good for thou to meet thy father.” Ezekiel said, handing the jug to the pirate, which he quickly chugged down in a few seconds.
“I told ya, devil’s don’t worship god’s.” Bazil paused for a moment and smiled, “And a king bows to no one.” Laughing maliciously he threw the ceramic jug to the ground and stood up scanning the room, noticing his bag with the crown and royal duck robe were still inside, amongst them were the other various treasures and valuables the cult had collected from the towns they had slaughtered to this point, heirlooms and pocket change, it mattered not, according to Ezekiel anything with value could be considered a proper tribute to the angel of death, which was probably the truest thing he had ever said about the pirate that he had spun into a demonic diety. Reaching into his bag his pulled out the purple robe with black and white spotted duck feathers that ran down the trim and tossed it over his bare shoulders, using the golden scorpion broach that was fastened at the end of a short golden cord to affix the open sides together at his chest. Noticing a mirror hanging on the wall, he approached it with the swagger befitting royalty, dusting off the shoulders as he admired his own image, smiling his devilish smile right back at himself. “Now then, what you got for grub around here?” Bazil asked, Ezekiel lead him out of the store house building and to a fire outback, where a group of cultist had gathered and could be seen tearing their teeth into mounds of flesh, just passed them meat could be seen cooking on a spit over the open fire, but upon closer inspection the flesh that they had been eating was none other than the victim of their ‘holy’ slaughter.
“Thou can eat to thy content.” Ezekiel said as he grabbed a hand from the plate and tore into it with his teeth, the crispy skin cracking with each bite. “Though thy country ist poor and food runeth dry for the norms, thy chosen followers know ye great lord’s bountiful harvest, for the sheep number in thousands.” The prophet laughed, comparing those he deemed non believers ‘sheep’.
Looking at the man and his followers tear into human flesh was enough to make even Bazil question the morality of it, “Ya know, I think it’s gonna be a hard pass.” The pirate said holding his hand up as a woman held up a plate full of fried limbs. Turning away from the food he noticed billowing smoke shooting up from the capital, “Well now, that looks interesting.” He began to mumble.
“Dost thou wish to go?” Ezekiel questioned, “The angel of death must heed thy fathers call.” The prophet leaned down into Bazil’s ear and whispered, his silver tongue playing its fiendish tune. The Red Devil smiled in response to these words and began walking off in that direction, his bloodlust heavy on the air. Ezekiel than turned and made his way to the center of the cults camp just a few meters from where they had been, “The lord hath spoken, our holy purge shalt continue!” The prophet called out to the masses, the crowd of one hundred and six people responded with cries of happiness, gathering up their weapons and the treasures from the store house and following their deity into whatever happens to be on the other side.
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