Kaizoku Tensei: Transmigrated Into A Pirate Eroge
Chapter 33: [33] RUINED

Chapter 33: [33] RUINED

The metallic shriek tore through the morning air, a sound like a train grinding itself to scrap.

CRACK.

Hardy’s prosthetic leg twisted at an unnatural angle, the main hydraulic joint rupturing in a spray of pressurized fluid. Gears scattered across the cobblestones like metallic confetti, their high-pitched ting-ting-ting echoing off the surrounding buildings.

Hardy’s scream wasn’t pain—it was pure, animalistic shock. His crushing grip around Pierre’s ribs went slack as his body instinctively tried to compensate for the sudden loss of his primary support.

Pierre dropped to the ground, his boots hitting cobblestone hard enough to send jolts up through his knees. Air rushed back into his lungs in ragged gulps. Each breath felt like swallowing fire, his compressed ribs protesting every expansion of his chest. The world spun for a moment, black spots dancing at the edges of his vision, but he forced himself to stay upright.

Hardy staggered backward, his remaining leg doing a desperate dance to keep him vertical. The captain’s face had gone chalk-white, sweat beading across his forehead as he stared down at the wreckage of his prosthetic. Oil and hydraulic fluid leaked from the twisted metal, creating dark stains on his Navy uniform. His hands flailed uselessly at his sides, grasping for balance that would never come.

"No, no, no..." Hardy’s voice was barely recognizable, a broken whisper that cracked like old parchment. "Not... not my leg. Not again."

The crowd pressed closer, their earlier fear transforming into something else—a collective intake of breath as they watched their tormentor reduced to a stumbling, broken figure. Mika’s small voice carried from somewhere in the mass of bodies, a whispered "Papa?"

Hardy’s backward stumble carried him another three steps before his heel caught on the raised platform edge. His arms windmilled frantically, but momentum and gravity had already claimed him. He crashed into the base of his monument—the thirty-foot bronze testament to his own ego. The impact was a dull, final thud. Like a sack of grain hitting a stone wall.

THUD.

The impact reverberated through the statue’s foundation, traveling up through bronze and stone like a tuning fork struck by a giant’s hammer. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The veiled monument stood as it always had, imposing and eternal.

Then came the groan.

It started deep, a bass rumble that Pierre felt in his bones more than heard. Metal stressed beyond its limits, stone foundations shifting, acid-weakened joints finally surrendering to forces they could no longer contain. The sound grew, climbing the scales like a dying whale’s song, until it became a shriek of tortured bronze that made everyone in the square cover their ears.

"EVERYONE GET OUT THE WAY!" Raven’s voice came out of no where.

The statue tilted.

Slowly at first, just a few degrees from vertical, the massive bronze figure of Captain Josiah Hardy began its descent. The sword raised triumphantly skyward now pointed toward the earth like an executioner’s blade. The noble expression on the statue’s face, meant to inspire fear and respect, now seemed to scream in metallic anguish as thirty feet of bronze toppled toward the cobblestones.

"My... my monument..." Hardy’s voice was a broken whisper from where he lay sprawled against the base. His eyes, wide and unblinking, tracked the statue’s fall like a man watching his own death approach in slow motion.

The impact shook the earth.

BOOM.

A physical force that rattled windows three blocks away, sent birds exploding from their perches in shrieking clouds, and made every person in the square stagger as the ground trembled beneath their feet. The bronze statue hit the cobblestones with the force of a meteorite, the raised sword arm snapping off and skittering across the square like a massive bronze spear.

The head—Hardy’s bronze face, cast in an expression of stern authority—bounced twice before rolling to a stop near the fountain. One bronze eye stared accusingly at the sky while the other pressed against the cobblestones.

Chunks of bronze scattered like shrapnel. An arm landed near the baker’s shop with a crash that shattered every window on the ground floor. The torso split along a seam that had been invisible until this moment, spilling the hollow interior across the square in twisted, broken segments. The base—the marble foundation that had proclaimed Hardy’s eternal vigilance—cracked down the middle with a sound like thunder, each half toppling in opposite directions.

Dust rose in choking clouds, mixing bronze powder with pulverized stone and the acrid smell of the acid that had done its work so well. The veiling cloth, torn free during the fall, drifted down like a funeral shroud to drape across the wreckage.

Silence settled over the square.

Then someone laughed.

It started as a giggle from one of the children, quickly stifled by a parent’s hand. "But the sound was out. Another chuckle joined it, then another, a ripple of mirth that swelled into a wave. Within seconds, the entire crowd was laughing—a sound of pure, unadulterated joy that Hotaru Town hadn’t heard in years.

"Papa!" Mika’s voice rang out as she broke free from the crowd, sprinting toward the platform.

Pierre watched, his ribs screaming with every breath. He saw the weathered man—her father—drop to his knees, his face a mess of tears and relief as the small girl crashed into his arms.

A low moan drew his attention back to Hardy.

The captain lay sprawled against the ruined base of his monument, his remaining leg twisted beneath him at an awkward angle. His Navy uniform, once immaculate, was torn and stained with oil from his broken prosthetic.

Hardy’s eyes had gone completely vacant. Not unconscious—worse than that. The pupils were dilated and unfocused, staring at something only he could see. His breathing came in quick, shallow pants, and a thin line of drool traced down his chin. His hands twitched spasmodically, fingers clawing at the broken stone as if trying to reassemble his monument through sheer force of will.

"Twenty years..." Hardy’s voice was barely human now, a rasping whisper that seemed to come from somewhere far away. "Twenty years building this place. Making them respect me. Fear me. And you..." His head turned toward Pierre like an owl’s, moving too far, too fast. "You... you ruined me."

The last two words came out as a shriek that made everyone in the square take a step back. Hardy’s face contorted into something barely recognizable as human—a mask of rage and madness that belonged in nightmares. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued to scream, his voice cracking and breaking like a teenage boy’s.

"RUINED! RUINED! RUINED!"