Perona's arrival delivered a devastating blow to the Beautiful Pirates.
A total wipeout.
For a pirate crew, this word carried an unbearably heavy and tragic weight.
Fortunately, it was just a minor skirmish.
Even so, Cavendish and his crew, while relieved, couldn't shake the lingering fear.
Soon after, the Sleeping Forest White Steed docked along the shoreline, anchoring in place.
A gangway was lowered to the shore, and the crew disembarked one after another.
"Jim, Philo."
"Captain."
Jim nodded toward Maude, while Philo kept yawning, her exhaustion plain to see.
During her time staying behind, her workaholic tendencies had taken over, as she tirelessly studied the various poisonous plants aboard Thriller Bark, completely disregarding day or night.
Once she had finished researching the plants, she didn't rest. Instead, she set her sights on the corpses stored in the freezer.
Maude glanced at the drowsy Philo and could roughly guess the reason.
Without Gaya's nutritional meals to support her, if she kept pushing herself like this, it was only a matter of time before she collapsed from exhaustion.
Whether it was deepening research on her profession-related skills or undergoing grueling training to gain greater strength, Gaya's meals significantly boosted both efficiency and progress.
It was precisely this consideration that led Maude to recruit Gaya onto the ship in the first place.
The crew didn't linger by the shore for long. Passing through the forest, graveyard, and ruins, they arrived at the castle in the center of the island-ship.
"What an unsettling place," Cavendish muttered to himself.
The thick fog, the desolate and eerie graveyard, and the ever-present chill that bit at his skin—all of it gave Cavendish a profoundly unpleasant impression.
Without a doubt, the grim atmosphere of Thriller Bark clashed completely with his dazzling radiance.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Maude led him directly into a room within the castle.
"This is... a dissection room!"
Cavendish stared in shock at the cold steel instruments lining the stone-bricked walls and the operating table at the center of the room, stained with dark, dried blood.
"So, the thing you wanted my cooperation with... is dissecting my body!?"
Cavendish's face twisted in anger as he glared at Maude, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
No wonder Maude had previously made those cryptic remarks about his "body."
If he was truly about to be dissected...
Either way, he was as good as dead. He might as well die fighting Maude.
Clang—!
Maude, unfazed by Cavendish's aggressive reaction, slowly drew Chidori.
Seeing this, Cavendish became even more convinced of his assumption.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for a heroic last stand.
But Maude's next words caught him off guard.
"Cavendish, I'm borrowing your shadow."
"What?"
Cavendish was bewildered.
Just as he spoke, Maude suddenly vanished from sight.
"Huh!?"
Cavendish's pupils shrank as he instinctively drew Durandal.
However—
Maude was already behind him, cutting away his shadow.
If this had been an actual battle, he would have already been decapitated.
A fraction of a second too slow, Cavendish spun around.
Realizing the situation in an instant, he gritted his teeth as he stared at Maude, who was now holding his writhing shadow.
Once again, he was confronted with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
Such a despair-inducing gap in strength...
Could he ever close it?
With talent? With time? With sheer effort?
Cavendish slowly lowered his sword arm.
For the first time in his life, having never taken training seriously before, he felt a genuine urge to grow stronger.
Even if he could never surpass Maude, at the very least, he didn't want to feel this powerless again.
This seemingly trivial encounter had, in fact, ignited Cavendish's resolve.
Maude observed Cavendish's shifting emotions and murmured, "Having his shadow cut away yet remaining conscious... As expected, his experimental value is extraordinary."
With that, Maude looked at the shadow in his hand.
The pitch-black silhouette thrashed violently, its gaping mouth opening wide in a silent scream.
The aura it exuded was closer to Cavendish's alter ego—the murderous "Kamaitachi of Rommel"—further confirming Maude's hypothesis.
This also explained why Cavendish had not immediately fainted after losing his shadow.
From this, a fundamental concept could be deduced:
If a personality equates to a soul, then Cavendish housed two souls within his body.
This distinct manifestation was fundamentally different from Philo's more subtle personality shifts.
If Maude could fully exploit Cavendish's experimental value, perhaps the potential of the Shadow-Shadow Fruit could reach an entirely new level.
Maude contemplated this.
"Experimental value?"
Cavendish overheard Maude's murmuring, and just as he had begun to relax, he tensed up again.
So, this man intended to use him for some kind of experiment.
No—more precisely, he intended to experiment on his shadow...
At that moment, Jim pushed open the door to the dissection room.
He brought with him a zombie that Maude intended to use for his experiment.
"Just place it there."
Maude pointed to the messy operating table.
Jim silently nodded, placing the zombie onto the table before turning to leave, heading off to resume his rigorous daily training.
During Maude's time in the Sabaody Archipelago, Jim had not only supervised Perona's physical training but had also dedicated every spare moment to his own training, pushing himself to the limit.
Now that Gaya was back, he could free up at least a third more time each day for training.
Once Jim left, Maude approached the operating table, looking down at the zombie.
The zombie had an old, rusty longsword strapped to its waist, indicating that it had once been a swordsman. However, its body was in poor condition, with thinning hair barely clinging to its nearly bald head.
Cavendish silently sheathed Durandal, watching Maude in quiet contemplation.
Even though he now knew Maude intended to use his shadow for an experiment, he still couldn't grasp Maude's true objective.
Naturally, Maude had no intention of explaining.
He glanced at the shadow still struggling in his grasp.
Skipping the usual contract process, he directly stuffed Cavendish's shadow into the zombie's body.
Cavendish watched in shock.
Maude silently observed the zombie, waiting for the results.
A moment later, the swordsman zombie's eyes suddenly snapped open. Its mouth stretched into a grotesque grin, tearing apart the stitches holding its lips together.
Whoosh!
The zombie abruptly sat up, skillfully drawing its rusty blade.
At the same time, the few strands of hair remaining on its nearly bald head swayed wildly, resembling seaweed drifting in the current—a somewhat comical sight.
"This is..."
In that instant, Cavendish understood everything.
Though he had never personally seen his alter ego, he had seen images in newspapers and reports.
The frenzied, gaping maw, the few strands of hair stubbornly dancing...
There was no doubt.
The zombie radiated a violent aura, driven by an insatiable urge for destruction. It turned its head toward the closest target—Maude.
And then—
Clang!
The zombie's blade fell from its hands.
The terrifying aura that had erupted so fiercely dissipated just as quickly.
Meanwhile, the strands of hair that had been writhing moments before drooped instantly, as if withering under frost.
Cavendish blinked in confusion.
He had heard stories of how the "Kamaitachi of Rommel" had been terrified of Maude.
Now, he had seen it firsthand.
And oddly, he didn't feel disappointed.
Instead, he felt a strange sense of camaraderie.
Sigh.
In the end, they were both the same.
"Weakness is the root of all incompetence..."
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