Chapter 335: The Approaching Crisis

Chapter 335: Chapter 335: The Approaching Crisis

Chapter 335: The Approaching Crisis

Do ghosts really exist?

Jessica stared at the impossible scene before her, disbelief written across her face.

Food was floating into the air.

Then disappearing.

No hands.

No visible person.

Nothing that could explain what she was seeing.

Before long, the other cooks were drawn out by the commotion.

One after another, they poked their heads out of the kitchen.

Then they saw the floating dishes.

"A ghost!"

Several screams erupted at once.

The noise snapped Jessica out of her shock.

If this continued, the kitchen staff would panic just like the Marines had.

She forced herself to stay calm.

"Enough!"

Her sharp voice cut through the cafeteria.

"Stop scaring yourselves. There’s obviously no ghost here."

Jessica had spent years building authority over the kitchen staff, and her words still carried weight.

The cooks hesitated.

"Head Chef... really?"

Jessica’s expression stiffened.

She had already committed to the lie.

"Of course."

The cooks visibly relaxed.

One of them asked,

"Then what is it?"

Jessica’s mind raced.

A moment later, an excuse came to her.

"Jonathan mentioned something earlier."

She crossed her arms.

"A new Marine arrived at the base recently. Apparently, he’s a Devil Fruit user."

The cooks exchanged looks.

Then understanding dawned.

"So that’s it!"

"A Devil Fruit ability!"

"Damn Recruit!"

"He scared half the cafeteria out of their minds!"

"Once we find him, we’ll teach him a lesson!"

The fear evaporated almost instantly.

Now that they believed the culprit was human, indignation replaced panic.

Then laughter drifted through the room.

Soft.

Faint.

Playful.

The cooks stopped.

One turned toward the others.

"Did... one of you laugh?"

Everyone shook their heads.

Slowly, their gazes shifted toward Jessica.

"Head Chef."

"Did you hear that?"

Jessica’s legs had already begun trembling.

Only pride kept her from running.

The laughter came again.

This time louder.

It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The sound was unnaturally chilling, slipping directly under the skin and setting every instinct screaming.

A cook swallowed.

"Head Chef..."

His voice shook.

"Does that new Marine always laugh like that?"

Jessica forced herself to answer.

"Maybe."

No one believed her anymore.

Not even Jessica.

Another cook asked weakly,

"Are we still... going to teach him a lesson?"

Every head shook at once.

Absolutely not.

Then a voice drifted through the cafeteria.

"Food..."

Everyone froze.

A pause.

Then the voice continued.

"Hungry..."

The cooks went pale.

...

"The cafeteria is haunted?"

Major Drake stared at the Marines reporting to him.

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

His irritation was obvious.

If frightened rumors had only been spreading among ordinary soldiers, he might have ignored them.

But even officers were repeating the story now.

That was unacceptable.

Marines were supposed to uphold justice.

They were not supposed to panic because someone whispered the word ghost.

Normally, Drake might have entertained the possibility that something strange had happened.

But after Jonathan’s warning about infiltrators, there was little reason for doubt.

This was almost certainly connected.

Drake turned toward the Marine beside him.

"Have the troops assemble."

"Yes, sir!"

"Tell them the exercise is beginning immediately."

Orders spread quickly.

Within minutes, soldiers had gathered in formation.

Drake stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back, posture straight and expression severe.

"This exercise begins now."

The Marines listened silently.

"Understand this clearly."

Drake’s voice carried across the formation.

"This is a live-combat drill."

"The opposing side may resist."

"Treat the target exactly as you would a real criminal."

Some expressions tightened.

"Do not panic if you encounter something you cannot immediately explain."

"Observe carefully."

"Report anything unusual."

"And above all..."

Drake’s eyes hardened.

"Capture the target."

"Yes, sir!"

The response came as one.

"Move out!"

Nearly a hundred Marines advanced toward the cafeteria.

...

By the time Drake arrived, the atmosphere inside was anything but normal.

Members of the 55th Unit, G-8’s Gale Force, were gathered together eating.

The Gale Force was one of Navarone’s specialized combat units, built around intense physical training.

Boxing.

Hand-to-hand combat.

Swordsmanship.

They were among the strongest close-combat troops in the fortress and were known for refusing to back down from danger.

And yet even they looked uneasy.

Officers and ordinary Marines were sitting close together.

Not out of camaraderie.

Out of fear.

Drake’s brows furrowed.

"What happened here?"

The Gale Force officer, also a Major, stood.

"You should see it yourself."

He hesitated.

Then added,

"There’s a ghost."

Drake’s expression darkened.

Again?

Without responding, he followed the officer farther inside.

They eventually reached a private dining area normally reserved for senior personnel.

A table had been covered with food.

Far more food than any officer would normally be served.

Even Jonathan usually ate only a modest meal.

This looked less like dinner and more like an offering placed before the dead.

Drake stared at the table.

Then a piece of food rose into the air.

It vanished.

Another followed.

Then another.

The room became silent.

Drake watched for several seconds.

Then made his decision.

"Raise your rifles."

The Marines reacted immediately.

Fear remained on their faces, but training took over.

Several rows formed.

Front ranks crouched.

Rear ranks stood.

Dozens of muzzles aimed directly at the empty space beside the table.

Drake stepped forward.

"No matter who you are, surrender yourself."

Nothing answered.

The food continued disappearing.

Drake waited.

Then drew his pistol.

The surrounding Marines looked at him in surprise.

Bang!

He fired.

The bullet flew directly toward the plate from which the food was vanishing.

It never reached it.

Just before impact, the bullet slowed.

Its momentum vanished.

Clink.

It dropped harmlessly beside the plate.

The food remained untouched.

Drake’s face became serious.

There really was someone there.

Someone capable of stopping a bullet without revealing themselves.

That immediately eliminated the possibility of an ordinary infiltrator.

Until now, G-8 doctrine favored capturing intruders alive whenever possible.

But if the enemy could casually neutralize gunfire, holding back was pointless.

Drake raised one hand.

"Prepare to fire."

The Marines hesitated.

One soldier spoke quietly.

"Major Drake..."

Drake looked at him.

"This is supposed to be a drill."

The soldier swallowed. ℯ

"If we use live ammunition, someone could be seriously injured."

Drake’s expression hardened.

"Then consider the exercise canceled."

The surrounding Marines went still.

"This is no longer training."

His gaze remained fixed on the empty space in front of them.

"An intruder has entered Navarone Fortress."

Drake raised his pistol.

"This is real combat."

....

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