Anime Girls are Moist

Chapter 1130 1,129: God Descended

Bell-mère finally couldn't hold herself up anymore. Her knees gave out, and she pitched forward.

But she didn't fully collapse. She slumped sideways and braced her shoulder against the doorframe.

She stayed there, wedged at a slant, eyes still open, staring through the crack at the two children inside who were too scared to move.

As if she were still telling them: run.

The world went quiet for a few seconds.

Then, from behind the door, a heart-rending wail burst out—

"Mom—!"

Nami and Nojiko lunged out and dropped to their knees beside Bell-mère.

Their little hands tried to cover the wound in her chest, but the blood wouldn't stop—no matter how hard they pressed, it kept seeping through their fingers in steady streams.

Warm. Sticky. Reeking of iron.

"Mom, don't die! Mom, look at me! Mom!"

Nojiko cried so hard she could barely breathe, snot and tears smeared all over her face.

She shook Bell-mère's arm with all her strength, but that hand had already gone limp—never again would it lift to ruffle her hair.

Nami didn't make a sound.

She clenched her teeth until her lips split, blood mixing with tears as it ran into her mouth—salty and metallic.

She stared at Bell-mère's face, unblinking.

Like if she looked long enough, her mom would open her eyes and smile the way she always did and say, "Scared you, didn't I? Gotcha."

But she didn't.

Bell-mère's eyes were still open, but the light inside them had scattered.

Hollow—reflecting nothing but the East Blue's brutally bright sky.

Arlong walked over.

He stopped beside Bell-mère's body and nudged her calf with the tip of his foot.

"Tch. Dead. Pathetic."

His expression didn't change, like he'd just kicked aside a stone in the road.

Just then, a fishman leaned in and murmured something into his ear.

Arlong's eyebrow lifted.

"Oh?"

He turned, his gaze landing on Nami.

Nami was still kneeling there, orange hair soaked by tears, strands plastered to her cheeks.

Her small shoulders hitched with silent sobs. Her hands were covered in blood—some hers, most her mother's.

Arlong crouched.

It made him look less tall, but the pressure didn't lessen at all.

His shadow fell over her, swallowing her whole.

He used the barrel of his gun to tip up her chin.

Cold metal touched her skin, sending a shiver through her.

"I heard…"

Arlong's voice was close, carrying that nasty mix of tobacco and fish stink.

"…you're pretty good at drawing sea charts?"

Nami went rigid.

Tears clung to her lashes, trembling but not falling.

She stared at the face inches from hers—blue-green skin, deep-set eyes, and that gaze—cold, cruel, like stones at the bottom of a lightless sea.

Her throat was too raw to speak. She swallowed, cleared it, and forced out a few words.

"I can draw…"

"Good."

Arlong smiled.

Not the sneering smile from before—this one had calculation in it, like he'd found an interesting new toy.

"Draw for me. Sea charts, routes—every map I need. And I'll spare you and your sister."

He paused, the gun barrel tapping Nami's cheek lightly.

Nami didn't answer.

Her mind was blank.

Her ears rang, like the gunshot was still echoing inside her skull.

Something heavy clogged her chest, so thick she couldn't breathe.

Without thinking, she turned to look at Nojiko.

Nojiko was shaking all over from crying, her face drained of color.

She clutched Nami's hand so tightly her nails dug into flesh, but Nami couldn't feel the pain.

Then she looked at Bell-mère.

Mom was still lying there, eyes fixed on the sky, never to close again.

Blood had spread across the ground—dark red, already starting to blacken at the edges.

Nami's stomach churned.

Arlong waited a few seconds. No answer.

His patience snapped.

His voice turned cold. The gun moved—aimed at Nojiko.

"No answer, then your sister dies right now."

Nojiko jolted and shrank back, but the doorframe was behind her—nowhere to run.

Nami's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

She looked at the black mouth of the gun, then at Nojiko's death-white face.

A flood of images flashed through her head—

Mom's gentle smile when she taught her to draw her first chart. Nojiko secretly pulling half the blanket over to cover her at night. Hot fish soup steaming in the morning. The three of them squeezed onto one bed, telling ghost stories…

Shattered.

All of it shattered.

Nami closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she opened them again, the tears had stopped.

Her face was still wet, but her eyes had changed.

The fear and confusion that belonged to a child was pressed down, bit by bit, by something else.

"…I understand."

Her voice was soft, but perfectly clear.

Arlong smiled in satisfaction and stood up, holstering the gun.

"Smart."

He brushed imaginary dust from his hands.

"From today on, you're the navigator of the Arlong Pirates."

"Draw well. Don't get any funny ideas. Your sister—"

He flicked a glance at Nojiko.

"—stays in the village as a hostage. You run, or your maps are wrong, she dies first."

With that, he turned and waved to his men.

"Same time next month to collect the money."

The fishmen followed, laughing.

They stepped past Bell-mère's body, trampled through the blood like it was just a puddle of water.

No one looked back.

Their footsteps faded.

The village fell silent again.

Only the wind, the surf, and Nojiko's muffled sobbing remained.

Nami still didn't move, still kneeling there.

She stared at Bell-mère's face for a long, long time.

Then she reached out and gently closed her mother's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

She whispered, so softly only she could hear.

"I have to live. Nojiko has to live too."

The sky was still that blue. The sun was still that bright.

The sea by Cocoyasi Village shimmered as if nothing had happened.

But some things would never be the same again.

Nami didn't know how long she knelt there—until her legs went numb, until she couldn't feel them anymore.

The blood on her palms dried into dark red scabs.

Nojiko was still crying, her voice hoarse now, breaking into ragged hiccups.

Villagers slowly gathered around them.

They didn't dare come too close, staying a few steps back,

staring at Bell-mère on the ground, staring at the two children—pity and fear in their eyes.

No one spoke.

No one even knew what they could say.

Until the sky split open!

Not thunder. Not lightning.

It really split—like a massive sheet of black glass smashed down the middle.

A jagged crack tore wider and wider, exposing a bottomless void behind it.

The wind stopped.

The ripples on the sea froze in place.

Even Nojiko's crying caught in her throat.

Everyone looked up, dazed, staring at that crack.

Then two people stepped out of it.

In front was a man, his clothes made from fabric that clearly didn't belong to this world.

He walked on air as if he were stepping down invisible stairs, one steady step at a time.

A woman followed behind him, expression flat. Her eyes swept over the corpse on the ground, over Nojiko's swollen, tear-ruined eyes, over Nami's ghost-pale face—without the slightest ripple of emotion.