The pace of the battle on Rosemary's ship, the Waning Grace, was not slowing down at all. On the contrary, the movements made by Caine and his opponents only accelerated and escalated as they fought for survival.

Survival.

The word echoed inside Caine's head as he swung his weapon, with the brambles at the end carving out thick lines in the wood as they dragged across the ship. The swing narrowly missed the quick-footed Rosemary, who flung another handful of rose petals in his direction. He managed to protect himself with his Coffin, but found himself tumbling and skidding across the floor as Houzan broke through and slammed his fist into him with ease.

This is impossible. He thought, dragging himself to his feet and immediately ducking to avoid the explosions that Rosemary threw at him. A single one was already tricky enough to fight, but he had two to deal with. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before Houzan melted his face off. He felt a sudden pain in his chest and looked down at the scalding circle in his torso. Fortunately, he had instinctively put every bit of Ley he had to prevent Houzan from smashing right through his ribcage, but he had underestimated how much damage had actually been done. He felt one of his ribs grinding in his chest, and grimaced in pain. And that was excluding the agonizing burning sensation on the skin above it. A stark contradiction to the deadly situation, the garden that surrounded him remained as bright and colorful as ever, with flowers blooming and the near-nauseating smell of nectar everywhere.

Cotton and Martinez punched each other in the face at the same time, cracking the bones in their skulls and sending both of them flying. But where Martinez was stopped partway by his Primis, Cotton sank right into the water and found herself in immediate danger. Leonardo was slicing apart the Eels with ease, but there was only so many he could take on alone. She was swarmed the moment she touched the water, with a dozen - no, at least two dozen beasts biting down on her.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" She screeched, ripping them apart with savagery far beyond any beast Martinez could create. "Hahahahahahaha!" She was laughing now, laughing as another head floated away and disintegrated into the water. Her injuries were just another aspect of the fight; what mattered was winning. More than anything else, she wanted to win.

She clawed and slashed her way to the surface, creating new gashes in her limbs and body, but there was little the beasts could do to stop her. With claws sharp enough to rip apart the fortified Ley holding them together, Cotton scrambled back to the surface and leaped into the air, using water to create small footholds midair as she closed in on Martinez. Though he was still dizzy and seeing spots in front of his eyes, Martinez thrust a huge limb at Cotton with its head attempting to snatch Cotton from the air. Its jaws closed around a piece of her ruined dress, but missed her right leg by a margin of inches. Instead of leaping over the limb, Cotton opted for efficiency and ran on top of it, quickly reaching Martinez even as he destroyed her footing as she got closer. He raised his left fist, but she was too close. Cotton raised her right leg forward and let her momentum carry her.

THWACK. She did not enforce the hit with water. The force behind the impact of her knee on Martinez's jaw was only strengthened by her Advanced Ley alone, and Martinez felt a few teeth in the side of his jaw shatter into pieces. Even so, he was marginally less stunned than he was at the first exchange of blows. Keeping his cool, he clamped the jaw on his left hand on her bare thigh, making her wince and slam her claw down on the top of his head.

Its ridiculous. Even in this state, even with all those injuries, why do you still fight? He thought, reeling downwards as he slipped in and out of consciousness. There was no way to tell if she was in a worse condition than he was, but he felt that she was as close to her limit as him. It isn't your strength that bothers me, Sue Cotton. It isn't your speed that makes me sick whenever I look at you. He spit out the broken teeth and watched them slowly sink into the water. Was time slowing down? Was it Basic Ley intensifying? Yes, that was probably it. When ones life was in danger, Basic would be their savior. He had heard from his master that the Ice Man, Vuckic, used to say that.

Now he clasped his free hand into a fist and formed a gauntlet with water. No more beast limbs. Cotton...what truly makes me sick when I look at you...

He raised his head and fixed his eyes on Cotton.

...is that smile always stuck to your face.

The fist that sank into Caine's gut for a second time was not the biggest problem. Nor was the constant shower of deadly petals from Rosemary. Or the fact that Houzan's Primis could destroy his Ley with ease. Or the fact that he was going to die.

The biggest problem was none of these things, yet all of them combined made a single sentence fit together in his mind: I'm going to lose. Losing? Winning? What did that matter to a scientist like him? Did he not live to explain the unexplained, uncover artifacts, and protect his crew?

When did I become so soft? He wondered as the fist sunk deeper into his body. Ah. The day I met you.

* * * * *

"Pardon?" Caine asked, unsure of what he had just heard. "Yeah, that's right. I'm your partner now, apparently." The woman was significantly shorter than he was, and wore a ragged black dress that went well with her black hair and eyes.

Caine sighed. "Look, I don't know what that fool Whitebeard has been saying about me, but -"

Cotton shut him up quickly. "Huh? Is that right? Well, now that I've come all the way over here, do ya think I can just fuck off back?!" She didn't make any exaggerated movements despite her angry tone, but her eyes pierced through him like daggers.

Her words and her forward attitude had taken his attention. He took a step back and eyed her a little better. She was short, with a young but somewhat angular face that did not quite display a physical maturity in her features. In fact, if it weren't for her gifted bosom, he would have mistaken her for a kid. "And how old are you, Captain Cotton?" He asked boldly.

Somehow, the frown on her face deepened even further. "What's that? Are you making fun of me? I'm 19! That a problem to ya?"

Hm. Three years younger.

"Certainly not. I'm sure your appearance will suit your age in a year or two. If you're lucky." He turned, ignored her furious yelping and made his way across the ship and towards the cabin.

"What's this all about, Captain? And is she going to pay for the damage her cannon caused?" Holdings, his vice-captain, was reaching the limits of his sanity. Day after day his superior would blow up his lab or wrap up a failed experiment, funds were already low and now they had three massive holes in their main sail. "And what about our course? We have to regroup with that man of all people in the Mediterranean. Is she coming with us or can we be on our way?"

He hoped not. After all, the insane wench had actually opened fire and ripped apart the sail to get their attention. As though they didn't have a bloody watcher in the crow's nest watching for allies.

Caine rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He knew Holdings was referring to a very unpredictable, uncooperative man currently fighting Blackbeard's men in the Southwest, and he also knew that having a loose cannon like Cotton alongside him would either prove extremely useful or extremely disastrous to the mission. "Hm. I don't believe its a good idea to bring her with us. We'll have more than enough hotheads with the one we're going to aid alongside us." He saw a look of relief briefly cross his deputy's face before it was replaced by an expression of horror.

"What's that I'm hearing?" Cotton asked, grabbing his arm tightly enough to hurt. And she wasn't using Ley either. It was her normal, physical strength that was crushing his bone under her seemingly delicate fingers. "You're planning to leave me and depart on this mission? What do you think I am, some kind of a pet? Huh?"

Caine tugged his arm away with surprising ease, catching even her off guard. He looked her straight in the eyes and for once, overwhelmed her gaze. "If you cannot keep your cool and jeopardize the mission, then yes. Absolutely. I want my allies to be of use to those around them, not unthinking maniacs like the one who is fighting as we speak."

Holdings fully expected her to spontaneously combust on the spot, and so he found himself speechless when she sighed and shrugged. "Fine. Fine. Have it your way. You're not the guy I'm supposed to be fighting. I get it." She pushed Holdings aside as she walked away, making him wish he could swear at her at least once.

So pushy. He didn't like her one bit. But that didn't explain why he felt a sudden annoyance when she walked off, haughty as ever. She didn't do anything to warrant his annoyance. The damaged sail could be repaired, and he had been berated in much more foul language than that. Yet, specifically when it came from her, it made something in the back of his head itch.

"Are you just gonna stand there? C'mon, lets get going!" She yelled at him. "And take that ugly hat off your head, will you? It makes you look like a damn toadstool!" Holdings saw Caine's lips tighten with disapproval, but he managed to restrain himself. "Well, you heard her. Its about time we resumed our travels."

As he left, he solemnly promised to think up of something that would annoy her the same way she did.

* * * * *

He smashed through the main mast of the ship and suddenly found himself buried underneath a heap of wood and steel. The smoke and sawdust that flew around him obscured his vision and made him cough, spitting out blood as he did so. Blood was leaking out through the wound in his chest. Had the impact been any more powerful, there would be more of a giant hole rather than a caved-in section of flesh and skin where his ribcage once was. It wasn't just his chest that was leaking; the red substance was everywhere now. The wood around him, his nose, his head, his mouth, his left arm...his back too.

What a mess. He reached for his metal rod, and pulled it closer. It was a struggle to move now, and every bone and muscle in his body ached and begged for a moments' rest. But he could sense his two opponents cautiously approaching the rubble where he lay buried.

Can't they just let me die in peace?

He thought, and tried forcing himself up. No good. He was just too worn out. In too much pain. He could barely see straight. Is this how I lose? He wondered, and coughed up another handful of blood. He smiled as he looked at the ugly red liquid stuck between his fingers. Why? He didn't know.

Cotton did not expect Martinez to use a gauntlet. Nor did she expect him to have such a powerful swing. Because of this, she knew she was in trouble the moment he connected against her jaw. For the first time since the fight began, she felt pain. Pain that rattled through her skull, shattered her cheekbone and broke her nose before the force behind his punch blew her off his Dress and sent her flying over the Marigold. She sank a long way behind the ship, but couldn't quite tell how far thanks to the head-splitting pain she was enduring.

The water felt cold, familiar. It helped calm her down. What was the next move? Did she even have enough strength for one? There was no time to think about the pain, the blood in the water or the fact that her Den had just fallen apart.

Need to move. Martinez is attacking. The Marigold was in danger. She sensed Dorothy fighting to stop him, but...for how long would she last?

Move.

Move.

Move. Move. Move.

She was going to die if she didn't. Not from drowning, but the blood loss...the blood loss was bad. She could tell her head was leaking, and blood flowed freely from her mouth. Elsewhere, she sensed, Caine's Ley was fading too.

She reached out at the surface of the water. There was no light, no dramatic spark over it beckoning her up. It was dark up there too, but anything was better than sinking into these boring, murky waters.

Caine. Wait for me you bastard.

Don't you dare die first.

* * * * *

Dorothy yelled as she sent the biggest spike of blue she could muster spinning towards Martinez like a drill. He raised his arm and a huge section of the Dress raised itself to effortlessly stop the attack.

"Pointless." He muttered, before starting to laugh. She watched as he laughed and laughed, putting his hand to his face and tilting his head up to the sky, ignoring her entirely. "Pointless! Your strongest member is out of commission, and you, the vice-captain, cannot so much as scratch me!"

From the crow's nest of the Ivory, Old Man Jack watched the laughing man closely. Borris was joining Leonardo in fighting the Beasts that were still sprouting from the waves endlessly. But if there was danger, Borris would have killed Martinez now. He was merely fooling around, waiting. Watching.

But of course, Brice Redneck was not a man who cared about subtle men like him. He raised his pistols and fired, sending blasts of air smashing into the enemy's Primis. Martinez gawked in shock as the attacks actually blew straight through his dress, leaving gaping holes in their wake. "YOU-!" He raised one arm, and a huge arm rose from the water behind him, as big as his Primis was. "You dare interfere? My fight is with their crew, not yours!"

Jackie watched in a mixture of awe and horror as the gargantuan hand towered above them. How big was it? Bigger than the Ivory, that was for certain. "We...we're going to die!" Rosa cried from next to him with her eyes covered. Jackie thought so too, but Elma shook her head and nudged her with an elbow. "The crew seems calm to me." And she was right. Most men on the deck were apprehensive, but not panicking or screaming. They simply stood with their weapons ready to deal with what would come next, none of them bothering to aim anything at the huge arm. Even Brice seemed unbothered, and the arm was too big for him to shoot down.

Or so Jackie thought. In reality, it was several times as reinforced as Martinez's Dress itself. He knew any shot he'd fire would not leave even a scratch behind.

"Borris! You've got to kill him!" Leonardo yelled as he cut down yet another Eel. How many had that been? Seventy? Eighty? The expression on Borris' face remained impassive as he calmly swung his sword, beheading seven Eels in a single, precise flick of his wrist. "That makes two hundred. I would say I've won this little competition, Lenny." He said, with a playful grin suddenly appearing in place of that impassive expression. It made his superior officer furious. "Borris! This is no time to be joking arou-"

He stopped when he saw the look in his eyes.

Slowly, deliberately, ignoring the dozens of Beasts that were lunging towards his back, he raised his hand to his face and extended a finger over his lips with his eyes on Leonardo. "Quiet. Don't yell so loudly..."

"...it makes you look weak."

Despite the crashing waves, the thunder and cannonfire, he heard this perfectly. It was so easy, so very easy, to forget he was far above him in strength and experience. His careless nature, his rank, his silence. Usually, he only ever opened his mouth to make a childish remark or to tease someone or the other. But now he stood before Borris, humbled and reminded of just how far below he really was. Rank? What did that matter? Whitebeard was a strange man, who had chosen him as vice-captain for a reason that was a mystery to everyone except perhaps the man who now stood before him, rightfully looking down on him despite his rank.

He searched for something to say, but he couldn't think of how to begin. So he simply bowed his head and looked at the water below as he eliminated every single Beast remaining. Wait. We're still standing on the surface of the water. That means-

He turned towards the Marigold.

As he lay on the rubble, aware of the ring of petals that surrounded where he had fallen, Caine wondered why Cotton's Ley was becoming harder to sense. It seemed she was farther away than she was a moment ago. You better not die. Again, a strange thing for him to be concerned for her well being. But was it really concern? No, not really. It was a challenge, a demand.

They were playing a game of "life", and the one who would die first would lose. Of course, it had been Cotton's suggestion. Where she had thought up of his idea was not something he knew. But it intrigued him, this game. And he saw this as a fascinating experiment when he began, to observe how playing such a game would affect its participants in combat.

That was what he first believed.

But as time passed, something changed. He grew more and more competitive in battle. It became less about the battle and more about the victories. There was no room for losing. Death? That meant nothing to him. Losing did. He couldn't afford it. To lose was to admit defeat to Cotton, which was unthinkable.

It was unthinkable.

He reached for the hilt of his rod, and tugged it closer to him. For the first time, he realized it was raining, making the cuts and bruises on his hands sting. He hadn't even noticed.

The cold water felt good against her face. It was where she felt most comfortable, where she felt at peace. Here, she thought, I can be one.

It was no secret that she had an unpredictable personality. Especially when she first met Caine, she had been an idiotic hothead with a contempt for everyone and everything. Yet her conflicting personalities meant she was constantly getting embarrassed whenever her someone dared to actually resist her angry outbursts. And thus she made the decision to play the Game of Life with Caine.

What was it? The Game of Life? It was exactly what it implied: it turned life into a game. It was a game played by warriors and the like...people whose lives revolved around battle. It was also a sort of vow between close friends, as Caine had pointed out when she had challenged him.

"A- A vow between friends? Wha- d- don't make me laugh! Friends? As if! I've had enough of your constant mockery of my height and my ability! From this day forth, let us turn this enmity into a challenge!"

Ah...how stupid she used to be. How rash and childish. Yet that was how someone else used to be as well, someone who had played the Game of Life with her long before she joined the Whitebeard fleet.

She, Sue Cotton, was the victor of that game. Such a strange game it is. Where victory brings sadness rather than pride. What would happen if I were to lose? Would Caine be happy, I wonder? Or...would he feel the same way I did?

Rosemary prepared her attack. Caine had been knocked out, but he was still alive. And a living Captain was always going to be a threat regardless of their condition, she knew. "Thank you for lying so still for us, Captain Caine. But this is where it ends." She said gently, almost consoling her opponent.

With a deep breath, she clapped her hands once. "Ring of Fire!" What followed was more of an implosion rather than an explosion, ripping apart a majority of the deck along with several upper stories of the ship in a ring-shaped flash of light than consumed everything surrounded by her petals. It did not pierce right through the ship, but had disintegrated almost everything within the circle into ash and scorched steel. The smoke that erupted from the remains of the ship consumed everything above, surrounding Rosemary and Houzan in grey smoke and debris. "He couldn't have survived." Houzan said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rosemary snorted. "Oh, he's still alive." The words struck him like a sledgehammer. "But...I can't sense his Ley!"

"I can use my petals to detect even those hiding their Ley. He's alive." She said, frowning. It didn't seem to Houzan like she understood why he was alive after that either. He was on his last legs, he was sure of that.

Sure enough, Caine's Ley suddenly soared, actually making Houzan take a step back in shock. Impossible. His Ley was never that powerful-

He looked at the grave expression on Rosemary's face and understood.

"Forgive me, Princess Rosemary. But I cannot afford to die yet, regardless of how many Captains are thrown at me. If I die here, a certain squashed-down woman will have a hard time accepting it."

"It's been fun, Martinez. But if I get myself killed by you, a certain stretched-out mushroom will be even lonelier than he already is."

"Allow me to introduce you to my-"

"I'll send you to hell, courtesy of my-"

"PRIMIS-!!"

As the smoke cleared, it was Houzan who first caught sight of what was lurking in the shadows. It was Caine's hair, freely whipping about in the wind tugging at the smoke around him. It seemed his hat had been caught in the explosion. But that was hardly what caught his eye. It was the two enormous branches covered in brambles wrapped around the base of his neck and jaw that his eyes were drawn to. They were twice as thick as his forearms, and each one fell back behind him and extended downwards like two additional limbs. A string of far smaller brambles also jutted out from the one around his neck, flowing down to cover his bloody chest and both his arms. Interestingly, for his right arm, it was as though the rod he held had fused with the brambles wrapping around his hand and fingers. There were no gaps for the fingers, no joints or any such space visible.

And then there was the weapon itself. It was no longer merely a blunt rod, but rather a gargantuan weapon made up entirely of brambles. It was clearly made with three branches, intertwined and woven together to form a singular thorny took of battle. Each branch was as thick as the two around his neck, and each thorn was about as long as a human's forearm. Combined with the ripped, battered mess of a coat that fell over his back, he had one of the most intimidating appearances Houzan had ever seen from an enemy.

He gaped in awe as Caine lifted down the rod he had been holding over his shoulder to his face effortlessly, with that single fused hand. "Now. I believe it is time to show you how a real Captain fights."

Martinez was also speechless as he tilted his head up, up, and up as far as he could. The roar of his Primis, the delighted screaming and yelling coming from below no longer held any importance to him. The battle no longer held any weight for him. The smile that had been on his face had now evaporated, leaving behind a mask of horror.

There was hardly a way to describe what he was seeing. It didn't seem to stop. The shadow that covered his face didn't seem to stop. It kept growing, growing...

There was no word sufficient to describe the size of the female figure that rose from the waters. With a massive angular helmet and long, curly hair that looked nothing like Cotton's, it raised itself to the sky with grace unfitting of its size and mass. For it towered no less than six miles above his Primis, casting a shadow over everything in the battlefield below.

As it rose to full height, Cotton flung herself back, and so did the Primis, raising one leg up and slamming it down with unbelievable force that made the sea quake and the ships before her shift in the sudden change in currents. With one graceful movement, she placed all the force that would come from standing on the ankles of her Primis with its arms crossed across its chest in a display of superiority over Martinez.

"Take a look. This is my Neptune's Valkyrie!"