"They are more like… modified humans."
"Modified humans?" Wilder's eyes flashed, a particular thought sparking in his mind.
"Yes." Kaneshiro continued with a hint of hesitation, "However, their modifications seem to have encountered some problems. I've witnessed it myself. They are prone to extreme agitation and can easily lose their reason. This loss of rationality most often occurs when they are attacked or when they themselves are bleeding."
"And once they enter this state, they will kill anyone they see, with the sole exception of Luoya. Even Luoya dares not try to stop them when they're like this, because any attempt to intervene might cause that last shred of their sanity to vanish. It's not out of the question that they might even turn on Luoya and kill him."
"So, you've seen them in action then?" Wilder seized upon the crucial point.
"Yes," Kaneshiro replied, though he seemed unsure why Wilder was pressing this, he answered truthfully.
"Describe their combat characteristics to me. This is also part of the reason why you believe them to be modified humans."
Only then did Kaneshiro understand Wilder's intent. He nodded and, after a moment of reflection, said, "When Luoya and I hadn't yet had our falling out, I had some contact with them. Firstly, their bodies are incredibly hard, or perhaps it's more accurate to say tough. Ordinary bullets and swords can't even scratch their muscles."
"Another notable aspect is their jumping power and explosive strength—and, of course, this includes their speed."
"They are, for all intents and purposes, comprehensive fighting machines. Their hardened bodies also grant them devastating striking power. Generally, against ordinary thugs, they can achieve a kill in a single blow."
"Furthermore, their speed and agility allow them to dispatch enemies with extreme swiftness. But the most terrifying thing about them is their combat reflexes. These reflexes have enabled them to dodge countless attacks that would have otherwise been fatal."
Kaneshiro spoke as he recalled these details. Wilder listened quietly, interjecting with a few questions from time to time. The fleeting idea that had flickered in his mind grew increasingly distinct, yet he couldn't quite grasp it.
"What is it that's bothering me? Why does this description feel so… familiar?"
After pondering for a long while without an answer, Wilder decided to temporarily set aside the inexplicable thought.
"Tell me about your plan," Wilder said, opting to move on. He wasn't particularly invested in the plan itself—it could exist or not. However, driven by a habitual cautiousness, he had heeded Kaneshiro's suggestion to formulate one.
"It's not much of a plan, really," Kaneshiro admitted. "It's more about ensuring that when we make our move, we aren't seen by anyone else."
"The day after tomorrow, Luoya is scheduled to set sail. It's possible that the complete annihilation of the Goren Brothers caused him some trouble, and now he needs to send some form of compensation to that 'war group.' I heard he's furious and is currently investigating who was responsible. Because of all this, he's been somewhat wary of me lately," Kaneshiro finished with a cold smirk.
"The time and place—inform me when they are set." With these words, Wilder stood up, preparing to leave.
"Yes, sir," Kaneshiro replied, respectfully watching Wilder depart.
For Wilder, helping Kaneshiro eliminate his mortal enemy was a minor, convenient task. He was investing his time primarily because Kaneshiro possessed value. As for the plan… well, sometimes it was necessary to accept the suggestions of one's subordinates.
Wilder declined Kaneshiro's offer to arrange accommodation, preferring his usual habit of finding an inconspicuous place to stay. He found a courtyard in his preferred style: rockeries and flowing water, verdant bamboo and cypress trees. The gentle murmur of water was conducive to a calm mind.
Wilder's training regimen wasn't solely about "dynamic" action. Quieting the mind, allowing for deep physical and mental relaxation, and entering a meditative state were also integral parts. This type of practice enabled Wilder to gain a deeper understanding of the surging swamp power within him and served as a method for cultivating Life Return and Observation Haki.
He sat cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation, calmly attuning himself to everything in his surroundings: the rustle of wind, the stir of grass, the vibration of insect wings, the subterranean movements of creatures. He brought all of it within the scope of his awareness. Yet, by also learning to ignore these distractions, the stillness itself fostered growth—a maturation of mindset and spirit.
He maintained this meditative posture until the sun began to dip towards the west before finally emerging from his trance. Compared to "dynamic" training, this "static" cultivation consumed more mental energy. Wilder felt an urgent need for a fine glass of wine and an exquisite meal to reward himself and replenish his depleted mental reserves.
Thus, he left the bungalow and headed towards a renowned restaurant on Fan Island.
Partway there, that long-absent sensation of being followed suddenly resurfaced. And this time, Wilder accurately pinpointed the trackers' location. His face turned cold. In a flash, he vanished from the spot.
"This time, I won't let you escape!"
Approximately five hundred meters away from Wilder's last position, the expressions of three men clad in tattered sailor uniforms changed drastically. "Damn it! We've been discovered!"
"Let's go! The Clan Head's mission for us is surveillance and tracking, to regularly report his location to confirm the plan. If we're caught now, we're dead men!" one of them, clearly a low-level leader, exclaimed anxiously, tugging at the other two as they broke into a desperate sprint.
"Is that so?" A cold, deep voice suddenly whispered beside the leader's ear. "Tell me, who is your Clan Head? And what is the purpose of monitoring me?"
The leader's body instantly stiffened, as if the air around him had frozen solid. Cold sweat trickled down his temples, and his legs, unbeknownst to him, lost their coordination.
"Tell me…" Wilder appeared at his side, one hand resting lightly on the man's shoulder, though his gaze was fixed behind him. Two swamp-like arms extended from the leader's back, clamped over the faces of the other two men, and lifted them high off the ground.
The two struggled in agony, but Wilder remained expressionless. The leader beside Wilder was completely immobilized; he couldn't even muster the strength to turn his head and look at his captor.
This… is this the terrifying power of a Warlord of the Sea?
The leader's eyes bulged to their absolute limit, staring blankly ahead. The emotion called terror swelled uncontrollably within him, the sheer intensity of it making his body feel as if it had rusted, severely impairing his physical functions. He wanted to flee, but he couldn't even take a single step!
"Gulp…"
"The… the Clan Head is… Wen— Pfft!"
Before he could finish his sentence, an arrow, loosed from a distance, whistled through the air and pierced his throat.
"Damn it!" Wilder spun around, his expression ugly. On a distant corner wall, a figure glanced in their direction before dropping out of sight.
Wilder immediately gave chase, the wind roaring past him, whipping his greatcloak about him with sharp cracks.
"Damn it! Useless fools! Don't get me killed!" the assassin thought, having successfully silenced the target. He turned and fled frantically. He knew that if he ran in a straight line, he'd be caught sooner or later. Fortunately, he was somewhat familiar with this area. After dropping from the wall, he weaved through a labyrinth of alleys until he reached a long-abandoned pier.
Hurriedly, he untied the mooring ropes of a small boat, leaped aboard, and began to row with all his might, rapidly moving away from the shore.
"Escape?"
An icy voice drifted from the shore. The assassin's heart leaped violently. He risked a glance back, and what he saw nearly made his eyes split from their sockets in terror.
Boom!
On the dilapidated pier, Wilder stood at the water's edge, his expression frigid. Behind him, a colossal swamp serpent, as thick as a water bucket, coiled and lunged into the sky. Its fiendish, gaping maw opened wide as it swooped down upon the small boat!
"Damn it!" the assassin cursed, his face paling. He hastily leaped from the small boat and began to swim desperately for the open sea!
"Abandoning your boat to flee is futile. You'd be better off telling me everything. Believe me, I can offer you shelter," Wilder said, his voice deep and resonant, though the gigantic serpent showed no signs of retracting.
"Is that so? How about you call off this monstrosity before making such claims!" the assassin shrieked, swimming for his life. He glanced back again, and his eyes widened in sheer horror.
BOOM!
The serpent slammed into the small boat. With a sickening crunch, the vessel splintered into several pieces, which were flung outwards in all directions!
The serpent's momentum didn't diminish. After shattering the boat, it continued its relentless charge towards the assassin in the water!
"That won't do, Nya hahaha!" Wilder's eyes were bloodshot, a savage, bloodthirsty smile spreading across his face.
BOOM! The serpent struck downwards! A massive plume of seawater erupted high into the air. When the churning, muddy water settled, the assassin's pupils were visibly dilated. Consciousness gradually faded, his eyes glazing over. Stunned by the shockwave, he rolled over, eyes white, and floated limply on the surface.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Wilder used Moon Walk to reach the unconscious man, effortlessly lifted him, and returned to the shore.
Shink! A metallic glint flashed from his five fingers as he plunged them into the assassin's ribs! Five bloody holes appeared, blood spurting freely. Wilder remained expressionless. The moment the assassin was jolted awake by the searing pain, Wilder spoke: "Talk, and I can stop the bleeding."
He withdrew his hand, straightened up, and looked down at the man, casually taking out a pristine white handkerchief to wipe the blood from his fingers.
"Cough, cough!" The assassin's eyes were wide with terror, his breathing ragged. "C-Can you… truly offer me protection?"
"I can," Wilder replied with barely a pause.
"Okay…"
"I think… you'd better stop the bleeding first. I have a feeling you hit me quite hard. I might not last much longer," the assassin gasped, lying on the ground, staring up at the sky, his chest heaving violently. His eyelids looked incredibly heavy, as if they could flutter shut at any moment.
"You have a point. However, I believe that rather than wasting precious time, it would be more prudent for you to say a word or two. That way… you can receive treatment much sooner."
"Cough, cough, cough!" Hearing this, the assassin's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. Two streams of aggrieved tears trickled down his temples.
"Alright, I'll talk." He was a fish on the chopping block; the decision rested entirely in Wilder's hands. The assassin knew he had no other choice.
"The people tracking you… are from Germa 66."
At that single sentence, Wilder's pupils instantly dilated!
Germa 66. The nation that lived and breathed war, the kingdom that had once ruled the entirety of the North Blue! They were known in the New World primarily as the stuff of legends.
"Germa 66…" Wilder suppressed the surge of emotion, his eyes, now fixed on the assassin, radiating a dangerous light. "The reason?" he pressed.
The assassin understood Wilder's meaning.
"Cough, cough… I'm not entirely clear on the specifics. Strictly speaking, I don't belong to Germa 66, and neither did those individuals who were following you. We are, shall we say… an affiliated force. So… my knowledge is limited."
"Tell me everything you know." Wilder retrieved gauze and antiseptic from his swamp and began to staunch the assassin's bleeding.
"Th-thank you."
"You're welcome."
The assassin continued, "The initial reason was likely because they had targeted something in your possession. They had personnel stationed for surveillance in the Sabaody Archipelago beforehand. Yes… they don't possess the capability to interfere in the East Blue, or rather… given the extent of your forces throughout the East Blue… there's simply no room for them to operate without easily arousing your vigilance."
"What thing?" Wilder's mind raced. This aligned with his initial suspicions when he was first being tailed—it was indeed for profit. Yet, Wilder couldn't fathom what he possessed that would attract the covetous gaze of Germa 66.
The assassin, pale as death, gasped for air like a beached fish desperate for survival. He weakly shook his head. "I don't know. But anything capable of attracting Germa 66's attention usually falls into one of two categories—science or war!"
Ignoring Wilder's reaction, the assassin eagerly pressed on with the point that had been interrupted earlier. "They couldn't interfere in the East Blue, so they preemptively stationed surveillance personnel in the Sabaody Archipelago, as it's the unavoidable route to the New World. From there… they could bide their time and find an opportunity."
"That was the initial reason. They targeted something you possess. But… it was merely targeting. They wouldn't have chosen to act… at least, not without a foolproof opportunity. They would have contented themselves with simply keeping track of your movements."
"But now, the situation has somewhat changed. What was once a unilateral coveting of your assets has escalated into a direct conflict."
"Conflict?" Wilder was perplexed. He didn't understand where the conflict lay, unless it stemmed from his own intention to seek trouble with Germa 66 over this incident.
The assassin managed a wretched grin. "The Goren Three Brothers were a very diligent cash cow for Germa 66. Yes, the profits reaped from plundering merchant ships are beyond your wildest imagination."
"No, my subordinates have engaged in such activities. I can attest that it is indeed a lucrative business," Wilder stated flatly.
"…"
Momentarily choked by Wilder's remark, the assassin chose to bypass the topic and continued, "So, they learned not long ago that you killed the Goren Brothers. Now, whether motivated by vengeance or by profit… I don't believe they have any reason to merely continue their surveillance."
"They'll choose to make a move?"
"Probably," the assassin nodded, though his prone position limited the gesture's range.
Wilder fell into deep thought. Germa 66 were notorious warmongers, and their ruler, Vinsmoke Judge, was a confident… even arrogant leader. Therefore, it was highly probable that the events the assassin described were not outside the realm of possibility.
At this juncture, Wilder had no desire to enter into conflict with any major power.
"But if conflict comes knocking…" Wilder looked up, a resolute, murderous intent spreading from his eyes.
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