Trace had no idea what kind of conversation was happening in the skies above between Kaido and Zephyr. All he saw was a now-familiar torrent of blazing red fire streak across the heavens once again.
His eye twitched.
His heart leapt into his throat.
Instantly, he braced himself to bolt.
But this time, the Azure Dragon's scorching Heat Breath wasn't countered like yesterday. It didn't get shattered by a single punch from the Marine Admiral or turn into a rain of hellfire meteors.
Only then did Trace allow himself to relax—just a little.
"Hope Teacher Kaido's horns are still intact…"
He muttered with genuine concern for the beast overhead.
Shifting his gaze back to the wilderness beyond the town, he watched as Smoker and the group of Marine recruits continued advancing—visibly closing in on the outskirts of the ruined medieval settlement.
Compared to Trace's clumsy, hands-on approach to zombie-slaying, the Marines were ruthlessly efficient. Their methods were flashy, but every single one was quick and deadly.
At this pace, Trace estimated that they'd finish clearing the zombies in the surrounding wildlands within half an hour—maybe less. After that, they'd push into the town to continue their purge.
Sneaking a glance at the battle raging in the sky, Trace found himself caught in a tough decision.
Two options lay ahead:
Option one: Stay in the town and wait for the Marines to arrive.
Option two: Leave now and head out into the wilderness alone.
The first option had one obvious perk—safety.
But the drawbacks were just as glaring.
Even if he thought about it with Lady Luck's stingy face in mind, he could already guess: the Marines would absolutely not trust a random civilian survivor wandering around on a zombie-infested island.
There was no question about it.
If he stayed, they'd lock him up for "quarantine" or "security" purposes—whatever excuse they needed. His movements would be restricted, monitored, and his freedom gone.
The second option?
Freedom. But danger.
Trace's brain fired into overdrive, weighing the options rapidly.
And ultimately—
He chose the second.
Not just because he hated being shackled by the Navy.
But because he understood something crucial about this island:
The real danger wasn't the zombies.
It was—
Kaido.
To everyone here except Zephyr, Kaido was a walking extinction-level event. A threat so overwhelming that even the undead paled in comparison.
Sticking with the Marines might give Trace the illusion of safety.
But in truth?
It only made him more visible to Kaido.
If Kaido suddenly lost his mind and went after the Marine recruits in earnest, could Zephyr really stop him completely?
Not a chance.
Even if Kaido didn't aim to kill, Zephyr couldn't possibly shield every single Marine from the fallout of such a clash.
And when that happened?
If Trace was tied up with them—stripped of freedom and mobility—
He'd be dead meat on the chopping board.
So instead—
He'd rather trade that false sense of safety for invisibility in Kaido's eyes.
It was a good deal, as far as Trace was concerned.
Even better, heading into the wildlands came with a juicy bonus:
Victory Bait.
If he tagged along with the Marines, he could kiss new bait drops goodbye. At least for a while.
And Trace needed those to survive.
With that, his mind was made up.
Eyes sharpening with resolve, he looked toward the outskirts and whispered:
"Before we meet, allow me to present a parting gift…"
---
He turned and bolted straight toward Hideout #3.
Over the past three to four days in this ruined town—between killing zombies and dodging kaiju-level shockwaves—Trace had spent most of his time scavenging every scrap of gunpowder and ammunition he could find.
And stockpiling it.
Because anyone with half a brain knew:
When dealing with mindless zombies, firearms and explosives beat blunt weapons every time.
And in a world crawling with pirates?
Any orderly town might be low on medicine or food—but they'd never be short on weapons.
For the first three days, Trace never touched the gunpowder.
He had a plan.
Before leaving town, he intended to use all the black powder he had gathered to blast the oversized zombies in the town square to kingdom come.
Because as previously stated:
Trace likes to go big.
---
The plan unfolded perfectly.
In just twenty minutes, he managed to relocate all the black powder he'd stashed in Hideout #3 and pile it into a makeshift armory—right in the center of the town's wide open plaza.
Thanks to the thunderous sky battle, his movements went completely unnoticed by the massive mutant zombies loitering nearby.
They were still busy howling at the heavens.
"When I first got here, this square was packed with zombies... Now, only three big ones remain, along with a few dozen small fry."
"Honestly, even if I didn't step in, they'd probably all be wiped out by Kaido and Zephyr's collateral damage in a day or two anyway…"
Trace scaled the town's clocktower beside the square and raised his telescope again, checking the Marines' position.
Sure enough, blue-and-white figures had already started entering the outer edge of town.
"Perfect timing."
He dashed down the tower stairs, reached the ground, and lit a pre-set fuse—
Then turned and sprinted north at full speed.
If he didn't run now?
He'd be barbecue, too.
"Undying monsters! How about a bath in cannon fire?!"
Ssssshhhhh—
The fuse hissed.
The scent of burning powder began to rise, mixing with the air. Sparks snaked their way along the line, racing toward the powder barrels stacked like a mountain.
Time seemed to slow.
Trace activated [Beast Breathing], tapping into every ounce of explosive power his body could summon. He barreled forward like a feral boar, driven by pure survival instinct.
He could feel the danger intensifying behind him—like a wave about to break.
Just as he ducked behind a half-crumbled wall—
BOOOOOM!!!!
First came the blinding flash of red-yellow light that lit the entire sky.
Then came the sound.
A roaring, sky-splitting detonation that echoed across the island.
---
Miles away, Smoker and his Marine squad were still engaged in cleanup operations when they saw the explosion bloom in the distance like a miniature sun. A moment later, the shockwave rolled across the land.
Even Zephyr and Kaido, locked in mid-air combat, couldn't help but glance toward the towering fireball erupting from the town.
At the blast center, a crater dozens of meters wide tore open the plaza. Buildings were gone. Nothing but debris. Smoke billowed like a volcanic eruption.
As for the zombies?
The regular ones were pulverized into red mist.
And those towering, mutated brutes?
Gone.
---
Northern edge of the medieval town.
Even from a safe distance, Trace could feel the ground quaking beneath his feet.
But he didn't care.
He summoned his interface screen and stared in awe as a flood of notifications rolled by like a waterfall:
[You obtained 1 E-rank Victory Bait!]
[You obtained 1 F-rank Victory Bait!]
[You obtained 1 F-rank Victory Bait!]
[You obtained 1 F-rank Victory Bait!]
[You obtained 1 F-rank Victory Bait!]
...
Trace's eyes lit up with wild glee.
"An E-rank bait! And a pile of F-ranks to go with it!"
"You know what this is?"
"This... this is what you call striking it rich in one go!"