One Piece: Scourge of the Seas

Tonight's harvest left Maude deeply satisfied.

The physical prowess of approximately fifteen ordinary men combined, a mastery of martial arts already honed, and a flintlock musket with lethal precision within fifty meters—this was more than enough capital to roam the streets without fear.

However, if conflict arose, this level of self-defense was still insufficient.

Yet compared to his past life, spent caged in a correctional facility waiting for the rare opportunity to deal with criminals...

Acting proactively was clearly a quicker path to gaining the strength needed for self-preservation.

Of course, the risks were also much greater...

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Maude drifted off to sleep.

At dawn the next day, the two bodies in the alley had been removed, leaving only dried bloodstains behind.

Residents of the surrounding area passed through the alley, utterly indifferent to the remnants of the crime scene.

Although this was a residential district, the inhabitants were mostly pirates and people from the underworld. Scenes like this were nothing out of the ordinary.

Even if the bodies were still there, at most, the passersby would spare them a glance before carrying on with their business.

Once the weapon shop opened for the day, Maude took a short stroll to observe the "murder" site from a distance.

While he didn't know who had taken the bodies, it wasn't something he was particularly concerned about.

He was confident last night's actions wouldn't be traced back to him.

Besides, the Redhorn Pirates, to which Red belonged, were set to leave town after midday.

As Red was merely one of their combatants, his death wouldn't cause much of a ripple. So long as the crew had enough funds, they could easily recruit replacements in Mad Hat Town.

Unless, of course, the identity of the other victim turned out to be someone far more important, critical enough to warrant the captain's attention.

But that seemed unlikely.

Maude mulled over this while glancing at the alleyway passersby, his gaze like a butcher assessing livestock.

Retracting his predatory stare without leaving a trace, Maude returned to the weapon shop and began his routine training.

He noticed that Sunny seemed off, her mood visibly gloomy.

Thinking of how women have their "off" days each month, Maude wisely chose not to provoke her. He squatted in the corner of the shop, diligently going through his exercises.

"Seven days left until the auction…"

Soon, his thoughts shifted to his next target.

Sunny's intelligence had provided several suitable targets, but Maude decided to hold off for two days before taking action again.

Lowering his hunting frequency would reduce the risk of being discovered.

At the port of Mad Hat Town, an open U-shaped bay was lined with pirate ships of various sizes and designs.

Among them was the Redhorn Pirates' ship—a moderately-sized two-masted vessel.

It was almost time to set sail, and the Redhorn Pirates had already gathered on board, fully prepared for departure.

A few crew members paced back and forth on the deck, seemingly on guard duty.

Inside the ship's cabin, the remaining crew, including their captain, were gathered.

They stood in a circle around a table where two cold, stiff bodies lay.

The captain, Kazte, wearing a horned war helmet and sporting a thick beard, stood by the table.

He stared down at the corpses, his expression like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

His bloodshot eyes brimmed with fury, and even the breath he exhaled seemed to carry a murderous aura.

Kazte's presence filled the cabin with an oppressive, deadly atmosphere. Most of the crew wore solemn expressions under its weight, though a few were merely pretending to play along.

After a while, the oppressive atmosphere deepened as the cabin door creaked open.

Kazte turned toward the door, and the crew instinctively parted to create a path.

A crewman with a long blade at his waist stepped inside, walking past the gap in the crowd until he stood before Kazte.

Kazte's intense gaze locked onto him. "Well?" he asked coldly.

The crewman, named Lagren, shook his head. "Nothing. Not a single lead."

"Hmm? Not even a trace?"

"None."

Lagren's expression remained composed.

A shadow crossed Kazte's eyes.

The timing of this incident had put him in a foul mood.

Sensing his captain's simmering anger, Lagren offered a timely reminder. "Captain, we must return before the auction begins. There's no time to waste."

"I don't need you to tell me that," Kazte snapped, his tone icy. "Lagren, you'll stay behind and resolve this matter."

"Understood."

Lagren accepted the order without hesitation.

Minutes later, the Redhorn Pirates' ship set sail, leaving the port behind.

As the auction approached, most incoming pirate ships were arriving at the bay, making it rare to see one leaving at this time.

Many pirates loitering at the port couldn't help but cast curious glances at the departing vessel.

Lagren watched the ship shrink into the distance until it became a small black dot on the horizon. Only then, with a newly acquired bag of coins at his waist, did he turn and head into town.

Among the two slain crewmembers, one had been a navigator the crew had spent two years training.

If it had been just a combatant, the matter might not have warranted such effort at this crucial juncture.

But a navigator was different—they were invaluable assets for sailing the Grand Line.

Even though the ship had a more experienced navigator on board, Kazte could not let this insult slide.

Lagren understood his captain's frustration. It was one reason he was willing to stay and handle the matter.

That said, he would have preferred to join the voyage. After all, the target this time was a rare and lucrative prize—one that promised an exhilarating plunder.

"What a shame," Lagren thought wistfully.

Half an hour later, Lagren arrived at the town's bar district.

His gaze passed over the large taverns lining the street, focusing instead on an alleyway.

Navigating through the bustling crowd, he entered a narrow alley and walked for about ten minutes before stopping in front of a dimly-lit bar.

An oil lamp fashioned from a skull hung on the wall. After a quick glance at it, Lagren pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Behind the counter, a bartender was polishing glasses. He glanced at Lagren but said nothing.

Lagren scanned the dimly-lit bar, noting the absence of any customers.

He turned his attention to the bartender and asked, "Is Wolfrat here?"

"..."

The bartender glanced at Lagren silently, then placed the glass he had been polishing onto the rack.

Lagren frowned, about to speak, when a cold voice suddenly rang out from behind him.

"I've been here all along."

The unexpected voice made Lagren's expression change drastically.

When…?

Shaken, Lagren instinctively took a few steps forward, then swiftly turned to face the source of the voice.

At the same time, his right hand had already gripped the hilt of his blade, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

But when his eyes landed on the speaker—a skinny man with sharp features—Lagren hesitated.

"You're… Wolfrat?"

------------------------------

If you want to support me and read advance chapters, please visit:

patreon.com / EmperorGarus