Kaizoku Tensei: Transmigrated Into A Pirate Eroge-Chapter 34: [] You Came Here with Your Stupid Face

He began to crawl.

Not walking, not even trying to stand—crawling on his hands and knees like some broken animal, dragging his useless legs behind him. His fingernails scraped against the cobblestones, leaving thin trails of blood as he clawed his way toward Pierre. The sound was worse than the statue’s fall—a wet, desperate scratching that made Pierre’s skin crawl.

"I’ll kill you," Hardy gasped between breaths, still crawling forward. "I’ll tear out your throat with my teeth. I’ll make you watch as I burn this whole town to ash. I’ll—"

His words dissolved. The threats bled into curses, a meaningless, frothing stream of sound. The great Captain Hardy, terror of the Dawn Sea, had been reduced to a gibbering madman crawling through the wreckage of his own legacy.

Pierre watched the pathetic display, his ribs still screaming with every breath. The tyrant who had terrorized an entire island for three years now dragged himself across broken stone like a wounded dog. Hardy’s Navy uniform hung in tatters, oil stains from his ruined prosthetic mixing with blood and dust. His captain’s hat had fallen off somewhere during the fight, leaving his gray hair matted against his skull.

The laughter died in their throats. The crowd pressed closer, a morbid curiosity pulling them in. The baker, his apron still dusted with flour, had a look of profound disgust. An old woman clutched her shawl, her face not triumphant, but deeply, deeply sad.

"You destroyed everything!" Hardy’s voice cracked like an adolescent boy’s. Tears mixed with dirt on his cheeks as he continued his desperate advance. "Twenty years! Twenty years building respect, building order, and you—you came here with your stupid hair and your stupid face and you ruined it all!"

Pierre didn’t even need to evade. Hardy’s crawling pace was slower than an elderly turtle’s stroll. Instead, Pierre took one step forward and delivered a single, precise chop to the base of Hardy’s neck.

Hardy’s charge ended instantly. His arms went limp as his face hit the cobblestones with a wet smack, the tyrant’s body going slack amidst the wreckage of his own monument.

And with that pathetic sound, the duel was over.

Pierre stood over the unconscious captain, swaying on his feet. The world seemed to tilt. He dragged in a breath and the fire in his ribs flared, forcing a sharp hiss through his teeth.

He looked around at the faces surrounding him. Mika still clung to her father near the platform, her small hands gripping his torn shirt like he might disappear again. The baker from three streets over stood with flour still dusting his apron, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. An elderly woman clutched a fishing net to her chest, tears streaming down her weathered cheeks.

These people had lived under Hardy’s boot for years. Years of arbitrary arrests, stolen property, public humiliations, and the constant threat of violence. A trial wouldn’t erase the poison in this man’s soul. Courts could be bought, testimonies suppressed, evidence destroyed. The United Government had allowed Hardy’s reign of terror to continue unchecked for years.

Pierre’s eyes found Alyssa in the crowd. She stood near the fountain, her blonde hair disheveled and her green eyes wide. Her outfit was wrinkled and stained from her earlier struggle with the guards. She stared at her father’s broken form with an expression Pierre couldn’t quite read—relief? Horror? Both?

Then his gaze shifted to Raven. She leaned against a nearby building, her distinctive half-red, half-white hair partially hidden.

Pierre knelt beside Hardy’s unconscious form. To the watching crowd, it looked like he was checking the captain’s condition, securing a dangerous prisoner. They couldn’t see the internal war raging behind Pierre’s sky-blue eyes.

This isn’t just for me. This is for them.

He placed his palm against Hardy’s forehead.

The familiar, cold hunger stirred within him—not a separate beast, but a part of his own soul, demanding to be fed. Pierre felt the familiar pull, the temptation to take everything Hardy had to offer. But this time was different. This time, Pierre controlled the flow.

Energy poured into him—not the wild torrent he’d experienced with Diana, but a controlled stream of power. Hardy’s essence was dark, bitter, tainted by years of cruelty and corruption. Pierre forced himself to take only what was necessary, to stop before the darkness could overwhelm him.

His body screamed in protest as the foreign energy integrated with his own. His muscles tensed, his vision blurred, and for a moment he thought he might lose consciousness himself. The power felt cold, heavy—like swallowing liquid lead. But it was working. He could feel his broken ribs mending, his bruised organs healing, his depleted stamina returning.

More importantly, he could feel Hardy’s malice draining away like poison from a wound. The captain’s breathing grew deeper, more peaceful.

Pierre forced himself to stop. Any more and he risked losing himself to Hardy’s accumulated hatred. Any less and the tyrant might recover his strength.

He stood on unsteady legs, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled it away from Hardy’s head. The crowd watched him with a mixture of awe and fear, unsure what they had just witnessed but knowing it was significant.

Lieutenant Commander Reynolds pushed through the gathered townspeople. He was a tall man with dark hair and nervous eyes, someone who had spent three years following orders he knew were wrong. His hand rested on his sidearm, but Pierre could see the uncertainty in his posture.

"He’s your mess," Pierre said, gesturing to Hardy’s unconscious form. "Clean it up."

Reynolds stared down at his former commander, the man who had terrorized him almost as much as the civilians.

The Lieutenant Commander’s hand moved to his pistol. For a moment, Pierre thought Reynolds might draw on him. Instead, the Navy officer pulled the weapon free and fired a single shot into the morning sky.

BANG!

The gunshot echoed off the surrounding buildings, making everyone jump. Reynolds’ voice rang out clear and strong, carrying to every corner of the square.

"By order of the United Government Navy, Captain Josiah Hardy is relieved of command!"

The words hung in the air like a physical thing. Reynolds continued, his voice growing stronger with each declaration.

"Release the prisoners! End the arbitrary taxation! Return all confiscated property to its rightful owners!"

He paused, looking around at the stunned faces surrounding him.

"This reign of terror is over!"