"It really is rare. A mere commoner, returning from the Holy Land in one piece."
Waves slapped against the hull of the battleship. On deck, squads of Marines marched their patrol routes, boots thumping on the planks in a steady clatter.
Among them stood several figures in white cloaks and masks, a little out of place in the neat formation.
The surrounding Marines acted as if they were invisible.
These few freshly promoted CP0 agents had been ordered by the Five Elders to carry out a special mission. They were the escort detail assigned to return a certain Celestial Dragon's "wife," Ginny, to the island she had been taken from.
Faced with such a strange case, they could not help glancing toward the cabin from time to time.
"I heard that when they ordered her release, that Celestial Dragon threw a massive tantrum. He did not have any particular feelings for her, but she was still his favorite toy…"
"There was no helping it. The Five Elders applied pressure together. Even with his special status, he had to compromise. In the end, she is just a low born commoner from the lower world."
"I heard they even had to use Lord Ozz's name to make him back down…"
The two CP0 agents muttered in low voices.
They were cut off by a sudden rush of footsteps.
Thump thump thump thump.
"Sirs, the person we are escorting suddenly started vomiting. Her condition looks abnormal."
"Nani?!"
The two masked CP0 snapped around at once and followed the Marine over to check on Ginny.
Even though their faces were hidden, their tones made it obvious they were in a very bad mood.
After all, this was their mission target. If Ginny died on the way, they were definitely done for.
"Where is the doctor!"
Chaos rippled outside.
Inside the cabin, the once lively, energetic captain of the Marine unit, Ginny, now lay on the bed, her face pale as paper.
She rested a hand on her lower abdomen. Patchy crystalline growths had appeared on her forearm.
Her eyes were complicated.
"Dear Kuma…"
…
"Is all this really necessary"
Outside a damp, shadowy prison block, Crocodile watched the crowded cells, filled to bursting with familiar faces.
She had no objections in principle, but this many high level guests meant the underworld was about to be reshuffled again.
"I may be retired, but I am not dead. I still need a foundation in the underworld. Otherwise, what am I supposed to eat and drink in the future"
Ozz lounged in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, surveying the lineup with satisfaction.
Most of the pieces were already back in place.
He turned to the cloaked figure at his side.
"Not bad. You did not let me down."
Under the hood, Tiger bared his teeth. His scar riddled skin tugged as he showed a grin that was more frightening than friendly.
"Of course."
The moment they saw that cloaked silhouette, all the underworld bosses crammed into the cells twitched.
Pure fear flickered in their eyes.
(Once again, classic pirate style flashback.)
One month earlier.
On a lavishly decorated luxury yacht, men in black suits stood in neat rows.
At the center of their formation, a number of infamous South Blue mafia family heads had gathered to discuss their future.
With the world convinced that Ozz was dead, they had secretly joined hands with other South Blue forces, ready to gamble everything.
When the underworld finally fractured, they planned to crown themselves kings.
Their schemes, however, had barely begun to take shape when news of Ozz's return hit them like a hammer.
"It will be fine. We have only just started to move. We have not done anything too excessive yet. And you have heard, right Ozz has already announced he is stepping down as Emperor. He has recalled a ton of Black Moon flags. Maybe he plans to retire and stop meddling…"
The man had not even finished speaking when the mafia godfather raised a hand to shut down that naive fantasy.
"Do not kid yourself. Just because Lord Ozz no longer wants to rule the world does not mean the underworld automatically changes owners."
Since Ozz had announced the recall of most Black Moon flags, the seas had quietly agreed on a new rule. Fighting over shares of the underworld no longer counted as a direct provocation to Ozz.
But anyone who did underworld business still had to pay him.
The rates had simply dropped.
From an earlier terrifying cut to a flat two percent.
Even so, that two percent was an astronomical sum. Combined with the Heavenly Tribute that flowed to the Celestial Dragons, the wealth of the Seven Kings of the Underworld (plus Sami), and the assets of Gran Tesoro, Ozz remained, beyond question, the richest man in the world.
His official territories had shrunk in name only, now limited to the domains of the Seven Kings of the Underworld, Duramos, half of Fishman Island (already ruined), and Gran Tesoro.
Even though only a single district of the Sabaody Archipelago was considered Sami's direct turf, everyone tacitly included the entire island as Ozz's sphere of influence.
So the mafia families could die.
What they absolutely could not do was get ideas about "stopping payments."
That was exactly why they had been marked.
Externally, Enel handled enforcement.
Internally, Tiger did.
With those two in charge, Ozz did not have to worry about routine suppression.
If they ever ran into someone they could not handle, Ozz had no intention of running around the world personally fighting battles either.
He would simply hope that person never crossed his path.
Otherwise, they would learn for themselves what "Black Gun" really meant.
These mafia families, however, were not beyond their reach.
The sea surface swelled. White crests rolled and tumbled.
No one on that yacht realized that a lethal shadow was gliding beneath the waves, cold eyes fixed on them.
Shing.
A sheet of black spread across the sea floor as Tiger kicked off like a loosed arrow, homing in on the bottom of the ship.
Boom.
"What was that!"
"Sea King attack!"
A violent shudder and rolling impact shook the entire vessel. Everyone on the massive yacht was thrown off balance, pitching to the deck in a chaotic heap.
The unlucky ones went straight overboard.
Splash.
Seawater closed over his head. As he flailed in panic, one man saw a dark figure crouched beneath the hull, staring back at him with icicle cold eyes.
Blub blub blub…
In the heaving chaos, someone glimpsed a shape rising slowly from the depths.
"That is not a Sea King. That is a fishman!"
"Just a fishman…"
The casual racism brought Tiger's fists up, knuckles whitening.
Only the mafia godfather seemed to realize something. He hurriedly shouted to stop the others.
"Wait. Are you… someone Lord Ozz sent"
Tiger did not bother to answer.
"Go die."
Shing.
Dense Armament Haki flooded his arms in an instant. Layers of seawater wrapped around his hands at his command.
"Sea Current Shoulder Throw."
In the days that followed, Tiger crossed paths with all kinds of enemies.
Not a single one managed to stand their ground.
Even the giant bodyguards went quietly to sleep under his jet black fists.
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The tides are shifting, and secrets linger in the dark... Step into the shadows early on P@treon, where the next chapter awaits before the world sees it.
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