Scar scoffed at the ship as it loomed out of the fog, doing its best to create a dread inducing and horrific entrance worthy of a ghostly ship, but all he could see was a free buffet delivering itself on a silver platter.

Sure, it was a giant ship of ghostly pirates. But that was it. Just one ship. At least, that's what he thought at first.

As the ghostly galleon drew closer to the 'shore line', also known as the edge of the cliff that Scar was standing on, more shapes manifested from the depths of the silent fog. Not just more galleons, each torn apart and definitely not seaworthy in their own special ways, but other types of ships.

There were a few rowboats, stuffed full of ghastly apparitions, yet none of them were rowing. Instead translucent chains, the same sickly green as the rest of the ghost ships and their crew, disappeared under the fog.

They rattled eerily, just the sound alone bringing a sense of impending dread, as if every link was forged from the sin of countless men, as these chains drew taut. What they were attached to was unclear, as it hid within the depths of the unnaturally fog, but it was strong enough to pull the rowboats without much issue.

Behind the dragged rowboats and ghastly galleons, was a towering Man O'war. The ship, not the jellyfish. Which was probably for the best, at least for those on the Man O'war, as if it was a Jellyfish then the cannons would have simply fallen off.

Unfortunately for Scar and the people of the town behind him, the three decks worth of cannons - totalling 124 barrels of thunderous death, 56 on each side - were firmly nestled within the ship and primed to fire.

For whatever reason, the Man O'war did not turn to use its best weapon. Instead it drifted within the fog, just at the edge of what was visible, and simply watched. Of course a ship had no eyes to watch with, nor could Scar see any figures at this distance, but he got that feeling.

The feeling of eyes boring into him, to the depths of his soul, as they tried to pry apart his defences and peer into his deepest secrets. However, whoever was doing that prying clearly wasn't on his level, as he kept those doors firmly closed with nothing more than the smirk on his face.

Against the oncoming fleet, Scar simply held up his hand and made a simple beckoning gesture, daring them to make land in his presence. A dare they were stupid enough to take.

Chained harpoons were launched from the decks of the galleons, rattling dreadfully in the air before their jagged tips burrowed into the earth. They passed through the dirt as if it was non-existent, yet paradoxically grabbed hold of it and refused to budge.

The ghostly crew dragged the ships closer, dropping anchor into the fog to keep them rooted in place.

Yet while this was going on, the rowboat crews had already reached land, guided by their chained beasts.

Damned sailors tore their barnacle covered blades from their sheathes and charged forwards, letting out a ghastly wail as their war-cry. Witnessing the dreadful charge, Scar couldn't help but laugh himself.

He turned to Daisy, who was watching with a curious and amazed expression.

"Well Second-mate, care to join me for a touch of piracy?"

He summoned the [Fjord Carver] deciding that his own salty seawater blasting, barnacle encrusted blade was perfectly on theme for such an occasion. It took a little effort, but soon the blade began to shimmer softly.

Starting from the tip and working its way down, the falchion took on a ghostly appearance of its own. Although with one key difference.

Instead of the sickly, tainted green of the pirates, the weapon instead turned a pure and refined azure as it took on its transparent state, just the same as Scar's hand as he held the ghostly blade in his grip.

He offered the hilt to Daisy, who looked at him nervously before breaking out into a bright smile. A spectral hand left her metallic one, latching onto the hilt of the falchion, as the ghost girl pulled herself from her vessel.

With sword in hand and head floating with a visible gap above her severed neck, Daisy charged towards the army of the damned like it was just another game to play.

Scar didn't just let her charge in recklessly, but he didn't want it to be over too quick. It was his first time fighting since he had evolved. Technically, it was Scar's first time fighting ever, if you thought about it.

A first time, especially one like this, it couldn't be rushed. It had to be savoured, to be enjoyed. He needed it to leave an impression, even if it was just a memory that haunted their darkest dreams in the next life.

He was going to take this slow. He was going to enjoy tearing apart this buffet that had so kindly delivered itself to him. Seeing those apparitions charging towards him, who looked like they had been dragged out from the bottom of the ocean with all of the seaweed and such clinging to their ghastly bodies, Scar didn't feel fear.

He felt hungry.

Spiritual threads erupted from his body. No longer restricted to sprouting from the tips of his fingers, they burst from every limb. Crawling out the skin pours of his arms, bursting from his chest and curling together like a kraken's tendril, the threads surged forwards.

Some of them wrapped around the harpoons that had been launched, locking the anchors in place so that they couldn't retreat even if they wanted to, while others surged forwards towards the sight of Daisy's battle.

She was reckless and clumsy, swinging the blade back and forth with both hands like it was a baseball bat. She had absolutely no skill or experience, which is why these dead dummies made for such good training partners.

Blows that should have killed her were dragged away by the puppeteers threads. Fatal strikes with gleaming swords simply bounced off the simple threads that were no thicker than a strand of hair.

As Daisy fought, completely safe despite the dreadful crew of bloodthirsty pirates trying to kill her, Scar was constantly calling out hints and tips, using every strike that he blocked or every one that she missed as a lesson. Thankfully, Daisy was quick to learn the basics, becoming less and less reliant on Scar as the battle drew on.

Which gave Scar more time to play with his food, and find out the answers to some questions that had been nagging him.

His presence had quickly drawn most of the crews attention, it was impossible to miss him. If there had been a lighthouse guiding their way to the shore, he would have drowned out its light with his presence.

Not just that, but it quickly became clear that this man was the one keeping them from their usual prey.

Those that tried to run past him were grabbed by kraken tendrils of spectral threads, some of them being tossed back to their boats like an unwanted toy while others were simply crushed in the kraken's grasp. Their soul essence barely having a chance to manifest upon their second death, before the tendrils hungrily slurped it up and delivered that nurishment to their master.

Over and over, Angel whispered notifications into Scars mind of his spiritual score increasing, and with every increase of his spirit his body improved alongside it. He could feel himself growing stronger and faster, more power being confined into the twisted weave of his muscles.

It was only a tiny amount of growth every time, less than 0.1%, yet it quickly accumulated.

However, despite fighting ghosts, Scar didn't shift into his new spirit form just yet. He kept himself in the body of flesh and blood, smirking behind his mask as he swerved and danced between the blades of the damned like it was nothing more than a staged performance. It was childsplay to him, which is how he was able to so easily provide Daisy with instructions on her combat as he 'fought'.

But it was more than just sadistic pleasure, at least a little bit. With a cruel smile behind his mask, he weaved around the swing of another pirate before waving his hand. The ghost immediately froze, absolute terror painting its damned face, which was half hidden behind the starfish that clung to its head.

It's eyes darted around in desperation as it tried to pull itself free from the web of threads that had ensnared it mid-swing.

Scar stood before it, hand raised and finger crooked as it lazily rested on a single thread that extended horizontally in front of him. He pushed his finger slightly down on the thread, causing every single one that was wrapped around the pirate to tighten. It dug into his skin, threatening to shred him into hundreds of bite sized pieces.

"Now... Perhaps you will tell me what I want to know."

The pirate trembled as it stared helplessly into the eyes hidden behind that mask. The silver glowing slightly against the black background made him feel like he was staring into the endless Abyss... and that it was staring back.

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