"You scum! No—fish scum!"
Storm pinned down the thieving cat while coldly eyeing the remaining members of the Arlong Pirates.
"The spirit of racial equality passed down by Mr. Fisher Tiger and the Sun Pirates—you've tarnished all of it!"
Most so-called "heroes" in the pirate world were nothing but frauds chasing fame.
Take, for example, that one who dominated the Grand Line for years, whose reputation alone was enough to send pirates fleeing in terror—seemingly invincible, unmatched in prestige, yet the moment he made his move, he utterly humiliated himself and fell from grace...
That's right!
Storm was talking about Alabasta's "hero," Sand Crocodile—Crocodile!
But as the saying goes—
Even among heroes, there are differences.
In Storm's view, compared to those so-called "heroes" in the human world who deceived the masses, the true heroes belonged to the fish-man world!
A man who, with his bare hands, scaled the summit of the Red Line, towering over ten thousand meters high—who disregarded race, status, or wealth, indiscriminately liberating thousands of slaves from the holy land of Mary Geoise.
Fisher Tiger was the embodiment of the hero Storm admired!
Yet, tragically—
When a hero descended upon this world, the world proved unworthy of him.
Fisher Tiger died.
And with the captain's death, his Sun Pirates collapsed.
The current captain of the Sun Pirates, "Knight of the Sea" Jinbei, was bold and chivalrous by nature.
But Jinbei was no Fisher Tiger.
He had inherited only a fraction of Fisher Tiger's ideals of equality.
As for the other group of fish-men—the radical faction that broke away from the Sun Pirates...
That would be the Arlong Pirates now standing before Storm.
Honestly, if the Arlong Pirates had gone on to wreak havoc across the Grand Line after leaving the Sun Pirates—even launching attacks on World Government and Marine bases—
Storm wouldn't have held such deep contempt for them.
Because the racial dynamics between humans and fish-men were clear as day.
Humans enslaved fish-men, refusing to even recognize them as "intelligent beings."
Naturally, fish-men had no obligation to treat humans equally—they simply discriminated against humans in return.
Humans captured and enslaved fish-men.
Fish-men fought back and killed humans.
That was a perfectly normal relationship.
But these worthless fish-men of the Arlong Pirates?
They had been scared witless by the towering waves of the Grand Line.
After fleeing, they came to the East Blue—widely regarded as the weakest sea—seized an island, and began ruling over its ordinary civilians, playing at being "superior fish"...
What kind of oceanic trash were they?!
Hearing an outsider speak of the Sun Pirates and Fisher Tiger's legacy, the members of the Arlong Pirates lowered their heads.
"Big Brother Tiger..."
"The Sun Pirates..."
"Captain Arlong..."
"W-White Dragon..."
Storm's gaze shifted to the last fish-man who spoke—an octopus fish-man whose name seemed to be "Hatchan"?
"Octopus fish-man, do you know me?"
"Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea..."
Hatchan's body was tightly bound by white clay, every one of his octopus tentacles immobilized.
"You're the White Dragon, one of the Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea like Boss Jinbei..."
The White Dragon had succeeded the Lizard King's position, becoming the newest member of the Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea.
This news had been circulating worldwide for several days now.
The Arlong Pirates, as a branch of the Sun Pirates, naturally paid attention to this development.
Arlong himself had "quite the history" with Jinbei.
These trash fishmen who only dared to play king in the remote corners of East Blue had also taken notice of this news.
It was no surprise that Hatchan could recognize Storm's identity.
Storm indifferently glanced at Hatchan, preparing to send these worthless fishmen to their doom.
But just then, Nami's voice reached his ears.
"Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea? You're that White Dragon I recently saw in the newspapers?"
Nami had finally stopped clinging to Storm like an orange tabby cat.
She jumped back onto the ground, wide-eyed as she stared at Storm in amazement.
"An East Blue girl dreaming about the Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea?"
"How many times must I tell you—this isn't a dream."
Storm wiped the cold expression from his face, looking at Nami with exasperation.
"These fishmen... do you want to deal with them yourself? They're your enemies."
"Can I really?"
Nami's eyes sparkled. This dream just kept getting more realistic and interesting.
In all her previous dreams, she'd never had a "revenge against enemies" scenario before...
"Leave these fishmen to me!"
Storm nodded. He didn't release the Arlong Pirates from their Clay restraints, simply handing their final disposition entirely to Nami.
"By the way, there should be quite a few maps collected here, right?"
"As expected of me! Even in dreams I'm thinking about mapping the whole world."
Nami lifted her chin proudly, like a smug little orange cat, pointing toward the map room.
"Over there! That room's filled with East Blue maps I drew stroke by stroke!"
"They're... after money... my second—no, third most precious treasures."
So what's the second most precious then?
Family perhaps?
Storm glanced briefly at Nami but said nothing, heading straight for the map room instead.
His real purpose for coming to the Conomi Islands was to update his East Blue island charts.
Running into the Arlong Pirates and Nami who'd just "returned home" was merely incidental.
Behind Storm,
The little orange tabby, intimately familiar with Arlong Park, somehow produced a red-hot branding iron and approached one of the fishmen.
Sizzle—
The sound of frying fish immediately filled the air.
The branded fishman instantly let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"Does it hurt? I don't feel a thing!"
Nami wielded the glowing iron, wearing a devilish smile.
"I really must be dreaming!"
"But even if this is a dream, I want to tear you scum to pieces!"
Storm turned to observe Nami venting her pent-up anguish, shaking his head slightly before slipping into the map room.
By the time he emerged with a thick stack of charts,
The fishmen outside had long since lost the ability to scream.
Every inch of their exposed skin not covered by white Clay was now covered in branding marks of varying sizes.
At first glance, one might mistake these fishmen for having been fully cooked...
The instigator, Nami, stood quietly in the center of a group of "grilled fish," holding a branding iron. The gloomy, icy aura she had been exuding earlier had mostly dissipated.
It seemed that venting her anger had made the little cat burglar act a bit more normal again...
However, Storm noticed keenly.
Though Nami's strikes appeared brutal, the fish-men's vitality remained strong.
In other words—
Not a single fish-man had died under Nami's branding iron.
Was it because the iron wasn't hot enough?
Or were the fish-men's constitutions simply too tough?
Perhaps these fish-men still needed to experience the "Warm Oil of Hell"?
Storm recalled writing a letter to Hannyabal about this very matter—had Impel Down reformed its policies since then?
When Nami saw Storm emerge from the map room, she dropped the branding iron and slowly walked up to him.
"Thank you… White Dragon…"
She spread her arms and hugged Storm's waist tightly, murmuring her gratitude into his chest.
"Even though I know this is a dream… thank you so much."
"How many times do I have to tell you? You're not dreaming!"
Storm pushed Nami away in annoyance once again.
This little cat burglar wasn't yet the thunder-wielding terror she would become in the future.
Right now, she was just a child.
Storm curled his fingers and flicked Nami's forehead.
His knuckle collided with her brow with a crisp thunk, like tapping a watermelon.
"Ow! That hurt!"
Clutching her forehead, Nami stared at Storm in bewilderment and shock.
"How can I feel pain…?"
"I really should wake up now!"
"If I don't hurry and give the map to Arlong and his crew, they'll hurt the villagers!"
"Arlong is already dead."
"How could Arlong be dead? He's so strong—he even came from the Grand Line! His boss is one of the Royal Seven Warlords of the Sea!"
"Since when was his boss one of the Royal Seven Warlords? Jinbei isn't even his superior… Ugh, why am I arguing with you about this?"
Storm shook his head and fixed his gaze on Nami.
"You still think this is a dream, don't you?"
"Yes!"
Nami nodded firmly.
"I must be dreaming!"
"Fine! If this is a dream, then I've already wiped out the Arlong Pirates."
Storm glanced at the fish-men. With a surge of Giant Wave Clay, the entire group was swallowed beneath the tide.
Blood-red Silver Trophies materialized from the void.
Each one bore the name of a fish-man scum.
Like tombstones.
"Now… shouldn't you repay me somehow?"
"Repay you?"
Nami's expression turned wary, and she instinctively clutched her pockets.
"I don't have any money!"
"That's fine. You're still here, aren't you?"
A wicked, pirate-like grin spread across Storm's face.
"If you can't pay with money, then you'll just have to mortgage yourself to me."
Nami's wariness deepened.
"You want to turn me into a slave?"
"Exactly! I'm going to enslave you, little cat burglar Nami!"
Storm raised his arms and declared his manifesto of human subjugation.
"Starting now, you'll work eight full hours a day, with only three meals and snacks provided."
"Only in the morning can you enjoy milk, and the lunch break is just one hour long."
"Bonuses are only given three times a year, and annual leave lasts a mere two months."
"The most cruel part? Your salary only increases once every four months!"
"Lord White Dragon!"
Nami's eyes sparkled as she listened, finding this dream increasingly fascinating.
"Can I bring others from my village to join you?"
"No."
Storm refused decisively.
"I only want you, my little thief cat. Your navigational talent is exceptionally rare."
"Since this is just a dream anyway, would you submit to my servitude?"
Nami answered cheerfully.
"I've already joined you now!"