The Oath of the Dead

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece.

"I can't believe you talked me into this,"

"Hey, you could've just said no and stayed at the party,"

"I did say no, but you kept insisting!"

Two young men walked down one of the dirt roads leading from the village of Samhain Island, heading towards the outskirts as a huge, red, full moon hung over in the sky, stained with the color red. One of the young men was dressed in an assortment of clothes that resembled those of a Shinto priest's robe, the color of fire dyed into the cloth. He wore no shoes, but he wore a beaded rosary around his neck and a sword at his hip, sheathed at the moment. His hair was long and a beautiful silvery color, it practically gleamed in the moonlight as it ran down his back. As if he didn't look strange enough already, he had a small pair of dog ears poking out of his hair, sharing the color of his long mane.

The other young man was dressed oddly as well, possibly even more odd than his traveling companion. He seemed to wear barely any clothes at all, although he actually did. He wore what looked like some kind of brown fur skirt, possibly a pelt, around his waist, a piece of metal armor over his torso with large pads of fur, one on each shoulder, a headband and wristbands that seemed to be made of fur as well, two pieces of clothing that looked like leg warmers made of fur that went from his ankles to his knees, and like his friend, a sword was strapped to his side. Despite the large amount of fur he wore, he couldn't help but hold and rub his arms together, hoping to warm them due to the chilly weather.

"Note to self, wear a costume that actually provides heat everywhere on my body,"

"Hehehe...,"

DJ Macleod punched his nakama, Devon, also known as the Demon King, in the arm as they moved down the road, "Besides me freezing my ass off-,"

"Next time, don't wear a skirt, Miss Macleod,"

Again, he punched him, "Shaddup!" he growled, "I'm freezing my ass off, I'm leaving the party where the girls are right now, having fun without us, and why? Because you hear some damn story about a butcher!"

Devon came to a stop and turned to DJ, "He wasn't a butcher, Macleod, he was a warrior! A great warrior! Didn't you hear the story one of the elders told?"

"Oh, I heard the same story, but apparently we heard two different versions,"

The silver-haired swordsman rolled his eyes and continued on foot again, DJ tailing close behind him. The two of them went on for a fair distance before coming to the end of the road, and to their destination. There, at the very tip of the path, was a massive pair of iron gates and a stone wall connected to them. On just about every inch, the wall had either vines of ivy or weeds growing all over it with some of the vegetation creeping around the bars of the gate.

"Well, looks like we're here," Devon said quietly, staring at the gates of the Samhain cemetary, "He's in there, Macleod, I can feel it!"

"Glad one of us can actually feel something, I barely feel anything thanks to this costume!"

Devon ignored his friend's complaint and approached the gate, "Doesn't look like this place is locked...which is odd," he unsheathed his katana and began to cut away some of the thicker patches of weeds, "You'd figure a place where the dead sleep, especially a place with a freaky backstory, would be locked at all times,"

DJ looked around, still feeling pretty cold, "You and I both know there are some freaks and disrespectful bastards out there, Devon. Some people break in to rob graves, to desecrate the graves, to dig up bodies and screw them, or some other weird ass shit," he glanced at his friend, "We still have time to go back and meet the others,"

"In a little bit, Macleod! I just want to see if anything is true, there's nothing wrong with that. We're not gonna dig anyone up, we're not gonna perform acts of necrophilia or some sick shit like that, we're just going in there, find the man's grave, say a few words, and then leave! We'll be back at the party long before it's over,"

"I hope so," DJ muttered, his teeth beginning to chatter. The brunette swordsman knew it would be almost impossible to convince his friend to turn back, and he wasn't about to head back all the way down the dirt road by himself, so he knew he had to stick with him. He wasn't afraid of graveyards, that was already proven with an event that happened a long time ago, it was just that he couldn't help but repeat the story that brought the two of them out here in his head. Even after the poorly maintained gates opened up with a loud creak, and as he followed Devon in the resting place of the island's dead, DJ couldn't stop thinking about it. The story went like this...

Over two hundred years ago, there was a man with a reputation for being bloody and brutal. He stood tall over anyone else who came across his path, and he wielded a wicked battle-axe that was stained with the blood of his countless victims. The man was known as Gundahar the Gory, a barbarian from the New World, and he was a fearsome warrior who never backed down from a fight, even if he was given mortal wounds. He had a reputation for not only cutting down his opponents in combat, but he had a nasty reputation for ripping out their hearts and eating them as they continued to beat in his hand, hoping to gain their courage as well as their strength. According to legend, he came to Samhain after hearing a rumor about a mighty warrior who could very well defeat him, but in reality, it was a trap set by the World Government. As soon as he entered the village, he was attacked by a force of specially trained Marines. Enraged, Gundahar took on the entire force, cleaving and hacking into anyone that came into his axe's path. Blood splashed against the buildings of the villages and stained the earth like a coat of fresh paint. It seemed like both Gundahar and the Marines were at even ground, until a cunning tactic was used to bring the barbarian down. Unable to defend himself, the mighty warrior suffered the entire power of what was left of the Marines and received wounds so great, not even he would be able to survive. On his dying breath, Gundahar swore to the Marines and the villagers that he would return to the world of the living to continue his rampage and that he wouldn't rest until he was defeated by a strong warrior who fought with honor and true strength. It had been two hundred years to the day since the death of Gundahar and with no word of the barbarian rising from the grave, the last words of the barbarian were meaningless.

"Macleod? Yo! Macleod, you with me?"

DJ snapped out of his thoughts, "H-huh? What?"

"I said I think I see it up ahead," Devon raised his arm, pointing to a particularly old section of the graveyard, "Right up there, c'mon!"

The two of them broke into a quick walk, passing tombstone after tombstone, until they came to what looked like a broken down crypt, looking far older than most everything else in the area. It wasn't huge, but it was quite larger than any other graves, and unlike the gate, it was securely locked with a thick, metal chain and a strong iron lock.

"This is it...," Devon put his hands on his hips, a smile crossing his face, "He's in there,"

DJ walked to the crypt door and grabbed the lock and chains, "This thing is new...," he turned to his friend, "Why would they give a crypt a new thing like this, but keep the gate to this place without anything like it whatsoever?"

Devon shrugged as he joined him at the crypt door, "I dunno, don't care. For all we know, people kept coming into to loot or screw the bodies, despite it being locked, so they just gave up on it?"

"That doesn't make sense, why would people break into this place and not the crypt?"

"I dunno, maybe they're too spooked? Hell, I don't know what people think, Macleod, let me enjoy the moment here!"

DJ rolled his eyes and looked back at the door, an uneasy feeling growing in the back of his mind. As he stared at the door, trying to ignore the feeling, he noticed something else about the crypt. With the light of the full moon hanging over head, he was just able to make out a string of words that were carved into the door, although he couldn't understand the language.

Mawr drwg yn gorwedd o fewn. Dylai'r rhai a fyddai'n agor y drws hwn bydd doom yr ynys ac sêl eu hunain yn torri.

"Devon, look at this," DJ ran his hands over the odd script, "Can you make this out?"

The other swordsman looked at the door for a few moments, then shook his head, "No...sorry, can't say that I can. Looks like some kinda ancient language though," he scratched his chin, "Sort of reminds me of some of the texts I couldn't decipher during my training under Odin's style. Wonder what it says,"

"It says that snot-nosed punks who trespass get shot on sight!" a gruff voice shouted from behind them, scaring them so much, they both practically jumped out of their skins. The two of them whirled around to see an older-looking man dressed in overalls, holding a long-barreled rifle. In the light, they couldn't tell if it was a rifle or a shotgun, but right now, neither Devon or DJ cared, as long as it wasn't loaded!

The old man lifted the gun and aimed it at the two of them, "Who the hell are you two and what are you doing here?" he hissed, "You're trespassing!"

DJ held up his arms slowly, really not wanting to get shot, "We're sorry! We didn't mean to, the gate wasn't locked and my friend just wanted to-,"

"He just wanted to see Gundahar, eh?" the old man cut him off, spitting a little off to the side, gun still aimed at the two of them, "Why? You come to rob him?"

Devon, although not wanting to be shot, seemed to be much cooler than his companion. He stared the old man right in the eyes, "We didn't come here to rob him, ossan, we just heard the story and thought we'd pay our respects,"

"Respects?" the geezer repeated, as if he didn't hear him right, "Respect?! You actually wish to pay respect to a monster?"

DJ cleared his throat, "Well, I don't, but he does, so can I-?" he stopped when the gun pointed at him, "Uh, nevermind,"

"Who the hell are you, anyway, ossan?"

"I'm Dampe, the caretaker of this here graveyard and I'm gonna shoot the shit out of the two of you if you don't step away from that crypt right now! You're endangering the whole island the longer you stay there!"

Devon frowned, "The hell you talking about?"

"Nevermind, just step away before I blow your fuckin' brains out!" the caretaker screamed, gripping his weapon again, "Don't think I won't do it because you're kids!"

"Okay, look, just hang on a second!" DJ protested quickly, "We didn't mean any harm, ossan, we didn't! We just heard the story and thought we'd come to see if he was really here. We were just about to leave, we swear!"

The old man growled and spat again.

"We'll leave right now, we will, but I just want to know something," DJ slowly pointed back to the door, "Those characters...what do they say?"

"And what did you mean by endangering the island?"

"Devon, shut up!"

Dampe looked at the two of them for a long moment, then finally lowered his gun, "Follow me, the both of you, and don't you dare stray away, or I'll blow your damn kneecaps out from under ya!"

The two costumed pirates followed Dampe to a small, run-down shed outside the graveyard walls, hidden away by the thick brush. As the two of them took a seat wherever they could find one, Dampe carefully placed his gun, which turned out to be a shotgun, across his lap before lighting a pipe. The old man took a long drag from the pipe and breathed out a stream of smoke that smelled oddly welcome. He looked at his two "guests" and cleared his throat.

"You two aren't from here, are ya?"

"Nope, we're visitors," Devon said slowly, "Dropped in earlier today and found out about it, so our group is taking part in the activities. Look, ossan, we really didn't mean any trouble, whatsoever, we just came up here to see the tomb and that was it,"

"For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth," Dampe murmured, taking another puff from his pipe, "You two don't know the evil that lies in the stone and earth here,"

"Can you tell us then, Dampe-san?" DJ asked quietly, "Please? We'd really like to know,"

The caretaker sat back in his chair, tapping his shotgun lightly, "If I told you though, chances are you wouldn't believe me,"

Devon let out a short laugh, "Ossan, we've been through the Grand Line and lived so far, we've seen a lot, believe us we won't judge right off the bat,"

"I don't care if you believe me or not, kid, I just want you two to humor an old man and stay away from this place when the story is over," Dampe sighed, shaking his head, "You said you knew the story behind what happened with the barbarian, right?"

The two pirates nodded.

"Well, that's part of the story," Dampe took another drag of his tobacco, "Gundahar the Gory did come here and he did die here, and yes, he is entombed here, but that's not the whole deal. You see, Samhain Island, in it's older days, used to be home to a large group of powerful people known as druids,"

"Druids?" Devon leaned forward, "I read about them during my childhood. I had read that druids usually dealt with the magic of mother earth and the forces of nature. They lived here?"

"Some of them lived here," Dampe said with a nod, "I hear that there are some druids still living in the world, but they're practices vary throughout different countries. As I was saying, the druids of Samhain were an ancient and powerful race of people. When Gundahar the Barbarian swore to come back from the world of the dead, they took him very seriously, as they knew the power of spirits, so when they buried him here, they inscribed runes on his tomb, letters that were filled with powerful magic. The chain you saw up there has been around ever since he was buried and it's what keeps him from rising up,"

DJ frowned, "That chain can't be two hundred years old, it looks brand new! It just can't look that new when it's supposed to be so old!"

Devon leaned over and lowered his voice, "For a guy who shares a bed with a miko and who has a sword that took down a monster in the past, you sure are skeptical, Macleod,"

"Eh? What's that, kid?"

"Nothing, ossan, nothing," Devon said quickly, "Please, continue your story,"

"As I was saying, the ancient druids sealed Gundahar away with their magic and it's that seal on the crypt door that keeps him from coming back to this world. If that were to be removed or destroyed, than the world would know the wrath of the heart-eating barbarian once more. That lettering you saw on the door was a warning, written in the ancient language of the Druids. It says 'Great Evil lies within. Those who would open this door will doom the island and themselves should the seal become broken'...if you two had gotten the bright idea to have a look inside, then you would've royally fucked everyone that lives here!"

DJ gulped and let out a low whistle, "Yikes...good thing you stopped us, huh?"

Dampe nodded, "A very good thing, boy,"

Devon coughed loudly, "Dampe, if you don't mind me asking, what are you leaving out?"

The old man glanced at him, "Eh?"

"There's some details you're not telling us. What are they?"

"Hehe...bright little bastard, ain't ya?" Dampe grinned, "Impressive,"

"Please answer the question, ossan,"

"Alright, alright," Dampe waved him off, "Don't get your panties in a bunch...,"

DJ turned to Devon, "You're wearing panties? Wow, didn't know you were like that,"

Devon quickly threw a hard punch at DJ, not only hitting him in the face, but also knocking him onto the floor at the same time, his eyes still locked on the old man.

"Dampe...,"

"Guess I might as well tell the whole truth," Dampe coughed loudly, no doubt feeling the downsides of his pipe smoking, "I am the caretaker of the graveyard, but I'm also the last descendant of the druids who sealed away Gundahar's bloodthirsty soul in the tomb. It is my duty to make sure that no one releases him, and should he ever be released, it will be my duty to make sure that he is sealed back, this time for good,"

The graveyard was empty, save for insects that crawled around the tombstones and made their meals with the rotting carcasses that lay beneath the dirt. The light of the red moon above gave a disturbingly beautiful glow to the necropolis while the autumn wind delivered a cold so cold it could easily chill the bones of anyone that was outside. As the chirping of crickets echoed around the cemetary, a shadow darted across the grounds, running along the surface of the headstones. It moved quickly and silently before coming to a stop right in front of Gundahar's resting place. The shadow, which was like that of a small child, waved it's arm and seconds later, the mystically powered lock and chain that was keeping the crypt door sealed shattered and fell to pieces at it's feet.

A soft laugh came from the shadow and then it was gone as if it never were.

As soon as it was gone, a bright, green glow began to shine through the cracks of the crypt door. The light grew brighter and brighter as the tomb itself began to shake violently.

Devon raised an eyebrow, "You're a druid, ossan? You don't look like one,"

"Well, excuse me Mister Fancypants!" Dampe gave him a dark look, "I left my ceremonial robes outside hanging on the line to dry and just plum forgot about them. You moron, I don't need to look like a druid to be one! I was born one and by our gods, I will die as one! I just hope that before my time is up on this earth, that the evil soul that is imprisoned here in the graveyard is never given a second chance to rampage. I also hope that my disciples here on the island will carry on our work,"

"Disciples?"

Dampe nodded, "Aye, disciples. There are a handful of them here on the island who read about the ancient ways and wanted to learn them. At first, I was reluctant, but I knew that if our way was to be preserved, I would have no choice but to teach them the druidic teachings. Hopefully, when my time on this earth is up and I go to join my ancestors in the afterlife, they'll be able to take care of the island,"

Devon was opened his mouth, about to ask another question, but before a single syllable was uttered, a noise, like that of an explosion, boomed through the night air, not only startling the trio of men, but actually shaking the small house so much, dust and small pieces of wood fell from above.

DJ, still holding his face, looked at the ceiling, "The hell was that?"

Dampe shot from his chair, gripping his shotgun tightly, and bolted for the door, "It can't be! It couldn't be!"

"Devon, what's-?"

"Something bad, Macleod, something really bad! C'mon, let's go after him, we can't let him go alone!"

"Oh...fuck...me...,"

"Holy shit...,"

Dampe, Devon, and DJ came to a halt when they saw a chilling sight. Where the tomb of Gundahar once stood, there was nothing but a mess of debris, pieces of metal and stone thrown about the area, some of it having hit surrounding graves and shattering old headstones.

The caretaker nearly fell over from the shock, but DJ quickly caught him, "...it's actually happened...he's gone. The monster is loose!"

"If he's loose, then where the hell is he?" Devon demanded, unsheathing his katana, the Water Moon, from his waist.

DJ quickly pulled Raikiri from it's sheath as well, still keeping Dampe from falling, "I don't know, but he shouldn't be that hard to find...the story said he was really tall, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Well then, we just keep an eye out for a big ol' rotting corpse with a battle axe," DJ shrugged, trying to keep calm, "Shouldn't be that hard to find, right?"

"Hehehehehehehehehehehe...,"

"Dampe, I know you're upset by this, but don't laugh like that to cover it up, it's creepy,"

"...that wasn't me, boyo,"

"Hehehehehehehehehehe,"

The three men looked at each other, then slowly turned around, almost instantly wishing that they hadn't. There, standing behind them was a monstrous figure of bone, leather and stinking, rotting flesh. Standing easily around ten feet tall, the newly revived Gundahar the barbarian was a horrifying sight. For a man who had been dead for two hundred years, he was pretty well preserved, given the fact that he still actually had most of his flesh and muscle still clinging to his body. His body didn't just have a collection of nasty scars ranging from gashes to bullet wounds, but it had a horrible odor and a grayish color tone to it. He only had one eye left in his skull, the other one had probably been eaten away by maggots years and years ago. There were even still some of the flesh eaters still crawling around his body as he lifted a very large, rusted battle-axe.

DJ stared for a few moments, "Uh...well...there's something you don't see everyday...," he looked at Devon, "Doesn't have a stolen shadow, either,"

Gundahar the Gory looked down at them, swinging his battle-axe around, as if trying to get the feel of it back into him, "I haven't felt like this in ages!! Will you three be the first to fall by the power of my axe?!" he leaned forward, taking a good look at them, "A couple of swordsman and a man with a toy gun, eh? Not exactly what I had in mind when I returned, but I suppose it's a start,"

"Boy!" Dampe turned his head away from Gundahar, towards DJ's ear, "I'm unable to help fight him, but if you two could somehow hold him off, then I should be able to seal him back in the grave!"

DJ kept his eyes on the large walking corpse, "How long would that take?"

"Shouldn't be long if I can get the supplies I need," Dampe gripped his shoulder, "You two cover my escape and try to keep him in here, I'll do what I can!"

The musician nodded, "You got it, ossan," he turned to Devon, "Yo, Demon King! You get first dibs on this freak!"

"Freak?!" Gundahar glared at him, "I am no freak, I am Gundahar the Gory, barbarian warrior from the New World!!"

"Yatta yatta yatta," Devon rolled his eyes and held Water Moon outward, "To us, you're nothing but worm chow,"

Insulted and angry, the undead warrior let out an ear-splitting roar and took a hard swipe at the small group. Devon quickly leapt out of the way, landing on a headstone a short distance away while DJ darted away, carrying Dampe with him. The old caretaker looked at the two swordsmen, surprised at what he had witnessed, "Never in my days have I seen such quick reflexes! You two aren't normal warriors, are you?!"

DJ chuckled and hauled him to his feet, pushing him towards the direction of his home, "Nah, we're monsters. Get going, ossan!"

The revived warrior didn't even notice the old man running away, his eye was focused on Devon, who looked excited about fighting this so called barbarian legend. The swordsman rose to full height, balancing on the headstone and pointed his sword at the living corpse, "I heard about you, big guy, I even came down here to pay my respects as one warrior to another, but so far, I don't see anything that impresses me. I'm not even scared of that dinky axe you got there," he pointed to the rusted piece of metal, "I know a guy who's got one that's WAY more scary than that piece of junk,"

Gundahar obviously didn't like hearing his weapon of choice get insulted, but he kept his cool as best he could as he stared the smaller man down, "You call yourself a warrior, eh? Obviously not a human, so what the hell are you? Some kind of animal? What kind of person has ears like that?"

Devon nearly fell off the headstone, "It's a costume, you stupid sonofabitch!" he shouted, a vein throbbing on his forehead, "I am a warrior, some people call me the Demon King of the East Blue Sea, and a certain few call me Odin's Champion!"

"Odin's Champion?" Gundahar repeated, then grinned widely, exposing his nasty, decaying gums and what remained of his teeth, "Perhaps I'll actually get a good fight!"

DJ kept a fair distance away, ready to jump in should he be needed. When he the last part of what the barbarian had said, he immediately thought back to the story.

"...he would return to the world of the living to continue his rampage and that he wouldn't rest until he was defeated by a strong warrior who fought with honor and true strength,"

"Devon!" the musician shouted, "You gotta beat him!"

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"No, I mean, you REALLY have to beat him! If Dampe can't do his job, then the only way that we can make him stay dead is to beat him in combat!"

"What the hell makes you think that?!"

DJ slapped himself in the face, He doesn't remember that part? Fucking moron...

"Look, just do it, and I'll let you kick my ass in practice, okay?!"

"I already do!"

"JUST FUCKING BEAT HIM, YOU JACKASS!!!"

Without another word, Devon practically flew at the tall zombie, slashing him across the chest as soon as he was in range. Gundahar reeled back from the impact, stomping and crushing any and all headstones that were behind him. If he had blood, he would probably be spewing it right now, but since his heart stopped pumping the precious red liquid centuries ago, nothing but a puff of dusty came shooting out of the wound. Devon cursed as he landed and spun on around his heel, keeping the large dead man in his sights.

He is just like those other ones, except that we can't beat him with salt water! he grit his teeth, That's just fantastic! How do you kill what is already dead?

"Is that all you got, boy?" Gundahar taunted, smiling at the wound, "I've gotten worse injuries from mere pups with daggers!"

"I'm just getting warmed up!" Devon gripped Water Moon, concentrating his ki into his blade, "Prepare to fall at the awesome power of Odin! Svartalfheim, Yami Nami!" he swung his katana hard at the large opponent, sending a powerful looking blade of dark energy straight into his target's body.

Gundahar let out a roar as the attack collided with his rotten flesh, causing smoke to rise from the impact wound, which already looked as though it began to fall apart. He looked down at the rapidly decaying injury, then back at Devon, a really pissed off, yet confused look on his face, "The hell was that?!"

"Just the beginning!" Devon swung his sword again, this time sending a blade of brilliant, white energy "Alfheim, Hikari Nami!"

The glowing energy not only succeeded into hitting Gundahar, but it actually passed right through him, sending chunks of flesh flying, covering the headstones behind them.

"Bullseye!"

While Devon enjoyed his successful techniques, DJ couldn't help but think something was wrong. From the sidelines, he didn't interfere, but the bad feeling in the back of his mind came back. Something was really, really wrong, but he couldn't place it. He chewed on his thumbnail as he watched the battle, which so far had only Devon dodging and landing blow after blow and the resurrected fiend was barely doing anything to attack Devon, let alone defend himself.

This doesn't make any sense! With the way the story went on and on about this guy being such a terror of the world, he should be practically owning the Demon King right about now! I can't believe I'm actually thinking this, but I'm really wanting Gundahar to do something here! In life, he was strong enough to take on a whole group of elite Marines, but in death, he's barely capable of handling Devon? This doesn't add up! Just do something, big man, do something and help put this feeling away! It's almost as if he's... his eyes widened, Oh shit!

"DEVON!!!"

The Demon King rolled out of the way of the battle-axe, "Not now, Macleod!"

"YES, NOW!" DJ screamed at him, "HE'S HOLDING BACK!!"

Devon looked over his shoulder as Gundahar pried his axe from the dirt, "What?!"

"HE'S HOLDING BACK! HE'S TOYING WITH YOU, LETTING YOU ATTACK HIM WHILE HE SIZES YOU UP AND SEES WHAT YOUR CAPABLE OF!"

"Hehe...smart lad,"

A second later, Devon felt an excruciating pain in his side and the next thing he knew, he was sent flying over the graves, his blood raining down like crimson waterdrops, staining the marble and stones. He hit a particularly large headstone, which broke off on impact and hit the ground hard, sporting a rather nasty gash in his side.

"DEVON!" DJ sped over to his fallen nakama, "Holy shit, are you okay?!"

The red-robed swordsman screamed in pain as he tried to move, "Mother FUCKER!" he seethed, "DAMMIT, where the hell did that come from!?"

"I told you that he was holding back!" DJ snapped before noticing that his comrade was missing his special katana, "Oh shit, where's the Water Moon?"

A glint of light from the corner of his eye made him turn to see the sword plunged into the ground at an angle, giving off an eerie light from the full moon and the blue-ish color of the metal.

"So, he survived,"

DJ growled and turned to Gundahar, who was coming quickly towards them, his axe dripping blood.

"My axe must be in worse condition than I thought," the barbarian looked at his chipped, rusting weapon, "Two hundred years and it goes to this!" he shook his head, "There was a time where I could cleave a group of one hundred men in half with but one stroke! Now, I can't even cut one little rookie swordsman halfway through!" he looked at DJ and Devon, "I'll just have to pick up a new one after I'm done carving you two up,"

"I'd love to see you try and carve me up, asshole!" DJ snapped, holding up Raikiri, I gotta get to Devon's katana, or else he's gonna bleed to death here! he glanced a look at the sword in the earth a short distance away, I know I'm fast, but I hope I'm fast enough to get there and get it to Devon before this goon finishes him off or intercepts me. C'mon, feet, don't fail me now!

A burst of speed exploded from underneath his feet, propelling him towards the discarded blade. Gundahar's one eye tracked the young swordsman as he ran for the sword and grinned, "Dealing with a bunch of morons and rookies today, aren't I?" he raised his axe high, "Let me show you both the power of my wild people!" he looked at Devon, "You first, boyo!"

"DJ...! Macleod, anytime now!"

"Hang on a second!"

"I don't have a second, dumbass!"

"Give my regards to the Devil!" Gundahar roared, bringing his axe down hard.

DJ heard the impact and looked back, "DEVON!?"

The Demon King, looking unusually pale, slowly turned his head to the right, staring at the massive axe in the earth, barely touching his shoulder. He looked back up at the undead, "Oh...shit...,"

Gundahar blinked his only eye, "Dammit, I missed? How'd that happen?"

"My guess would be you have a problem with depth perception, you idiot!" DJ cried happily as he re-appeared at Devon's side in a blur, tossing the katana to it's owner, "Am I late?"

"If he actually made that landing, you would've," Devon muttered, grasping the Water Moon, his wound slowly healing, "Try explaining my death to Kirsty, you wouldn't survive the night,"

Gundahar ripped his axe free from the earth, sending chunks of soft dirt into the air, "You two are strange babes-,"

"Oh great, he thinks we're chicks!" Devon sighed, scratching his head, then glanced out of the corner of his eye, "Well...,"

"Oh, shut the hell up," DJ muttered, a vein popping onto his head, "Let's just take care of this asshole once for all, Devon!"

"Sounds good to me," Devon flipped Water Moon around his fingers a few times before gripping the hilt, "What about all that stuff about one man with honor taking him down?"

"Legends are always sketchy, you know that,"

"Good point. Well, let's get this over with and back to the party, I don't want Kirsty and Austin to worry about me,"

"Same with me and Dusy-chan,"

Gundahar laughed at the two challengers, "Just one of you couldn't stand up to me, what makes you think two of you can?"

"Call it a lucky guess," Devon tightened his grip on his sword, "You first, Deej!"

"With pleasure!" DJ raised his sword and began to swing it at a rapid speed, the blade beginning to glow brightly with each swing, which also sent multiple arcs of blazing heat into the barbarian. Gundahar was assaulted by a barrage of fire blades that not only cut through his flesh, but began to burn it from the inside. He may have been dead and unable to go down as easy as a normal enemy, but flesh was flesh and was still susceptible to fire, even more so with it being dried out and rotting. The giant was soon set ablaze, screaming an demonic roar of anguish and anger.

Devon jumped high into the air, stopping a short distance above the burning man, "Let's hope this works!" he raised Water Moon high and began to rapidly descend, swinging his sword down as he did, "Helmet Splitter!!!"

Gundahar, still burning like a brushfire, looked up just before the sword made contact with his skull. Devon dropped down from the sky without a single moment of stopping, landing on the ground safely before jumping back to his comrade. The two swordsmen watched as Gundahar tried to say something, but was unable to. A sickening, squishy and ripping kind of sound was heard over the crackling of the flames and the two of them watched in silence as the undead giant fell to the ground, one half falling to the right and one half falling to the left. Unable to move, Gundahar just lay there in pieces, now roaring like a bonfire, his one and only eye staring at the two of them.

Neither DJ or Devon said a word to each other as the flames consumed the remains of the living dead, they just stood there, watching as the flames continued their buffet of dead flesh, thick smoke rising into the air, followed by a foul smell. It was the smell of burning meat and the smell of death, something that would hang heavily in the air for a good while. A loud snapping sound made the two of them spin around to see Dampe running through the rows of graves, carrying all kinds of equipment.

"I'm back, boys! How goes the...," the older man came to a halt and dropped his belongings, staring in shock at what was burning on the ground, "What...the...fuck?"

"Call it a personal type of purification," Devon sheathed his sword, "You're welcome,"

"When the burning is done, gather the ashes, place them somewhere, then work your druidic magic, Dampe-san," DJ leaned back until a loud snap was heard, "That was fun...,"

The old druid/caretaker could only gawk in silence as the two young men passed by him, heading out of the graveyard and back to the party in the village.

"What...?!" Dampe shook his head, "WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!"

The room was quiet for a moment as Chizuru finished her tale. The psychic scanned the room, looking at the faces of her nakama, each one of them sharing the same look: eyes wide, full of attention, not making a single sound.

"It seems like you all enjoyed that one," she smiled, looking back down at her book, "If you enjoyed that one, then I wonder if you'll enjoy this? This is a story of a man who discovers that a legend behind a gourd is actually not a legend at all. I call this next story The Lantern of the Damned!"

"No chance of a bathroom break, Chizuru?"

"Can't hear you, reading the next story!"

"Aw, dammit!"

Kilnorc: OH GOD! -falls over, fingers smoking- This chapter was brutal! It's been too long since I did One Piece battles, I really jumped into it without looking first, huh guys? Well, I would like to apologize to you all if this wasn't as good as my other work. I spent a good amount of time on this, and I was worried I'd run out of time before the others...anyway, it's done and I hope you enjoyed it. If you didn't, I hope the coming chapters will make up for it. Peace ya'll!