The opulent air of the grand casino, thick with the scent of perfume, expensive liquor, and naked greed, crackled with a sudden, sharp tension. Gild Tesoro's city of gold, Gran Tesoro, was a place where fortunes were won and lost on the turn of a card, but public brawls were decidedly bad for business.
Miss Bakkin, a diminutive woman whose greed was far larger than her stature, stood atop a poker table, her face contorted in a mask of theatrical outrage. She jabbed a wrinkled finger towards Skull, who calmly adjusted his skeletal mask, unfazed by the accusation.
"Cheater!" she shrieked, her voice cutting through the ambient murmur of the casino. "You swindled me! You swindled us!"
Standing beside her, a hulking giant of a man with a familiar crescent-shaped mustache sniffled, a thick stream of snot dangling from his nose. This was her son, Edward Weevil, the self-proclaimed "Whitebeard II."
Jerry, who had been quietly observing the spectacle, stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Skull's shoulder. He looked at the furious old woman, a slight, mocking tilt to his head. "That's a pretty serious accusation, old lady," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "But from where I'm standing, it just looks like you're a sore loser trying to cause a scene. Are you hoping to extort the money you lost back?"
Though he didn't know every detail of Miss Bakkin's history, her current display of avarice was a billboard for her personality.
Seeing her intentions laid bare, Bakkin's face flushed with anger. She planted her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest. "What?! How dare you! You're the ones who cheated, and now you refuse to admit it! Are you trying to bully a poor, old woman like me?"
Skull patted down his coat with a theatrical flourish. "Evidence? By all means, search me. But unless you find a card-shuffling parrot in my pocket, I'm afraid you're just blowing hot air."
Bakkin's eyes darted around the room. Most of the onlookers were just curious tourists, their faces a mixture of amusement and apprehension. For some reason, the casino's security staff had yet to intervene. Gritting her teeth, she decided to force the issue.
"Hmph! Evidence? We'll have all the evidence we need after we take you down!" She turned to her giant son. "Weevil, my boy! These thugs are trying to bully your dear mother!"
"Mom?" Weevil's simple face hardened. "They're bullying you? I won't let them!"
With a roar, the giant slapped his chest with one massive hand and hefted the enormous bisento in the other. He swung the polearm in a devastating arc, aiming to cleave both Jerry and Skull in two.
"Here we go!" someone in the crowd yelled.
The onlookers scattered like startled pigeons. To start a fight on Gran Tesoro was to make an enemy of its ruler, the "Golden Emperor" Gild Tesoro. No matter the outcome, it was a foolish move.
Weevil's attack was pure, unadulterated power. Against most opponents, it would have been an unstoppable, fatal blow. But Jerry wasn't most opponents.
Instead of meeting the force head-on, he moved with the fluid grace of a master martial artist. He stretched out a single hand, his fingers coated in a subtle sheen of Armament Haki, and slapped the flat side of the massive blade. It was a perfectly timed, precisely angled strike that didn't stop the weapon, but merely redirected its trajectory.
CRACK!
The bisento slammed into the golden-tiled floor, sending a spiderweb of fractures racing across the pristine surface.
Weevil stared, momentarily confused. His strength was absolute; few could even slow his attacks, let alone deflect one so effortlessly. He blinked his dull eyes, processing what had just happened.
Jerry, meanwhile, was already assessing his opponent. He knew that in a contest of raw, brute strength, this snot-nosed giant might actually have the upper hand. His strategy had to be smarter. Deflecting the blow was the right choice, especially since any damage to the casino wasn't coming out of his pocket.
Just as Weevil gathered himself to strike again, Bakkin held up a hand, stopping him. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, were narrowed on Jerry. Though he wore a mask that concealed the lower half of his face, she had been studying him intently.
"You…" she began, her voice low and dangerous. "You're no ordinary bodyguard." She squinted, a flicker of recognition dawning. "That messy flowing hair… those eyes… You're the one who caused all that trouble in Big Mom's territory! 'Leviathan' Jerry, the Eight Hundred Million Berries Man!"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Whispers erupted immediately.
"No way! That's Leviathan?"
"He fought Big Mom and lived to tell the tale!"
"What's he doing here?"
Jerry's identity being exposed so quickly was unexpected, but he didn't bother denying it. He spread his arms wide in a grandiose gesture, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh? You figured it out? Was it my sharp eyes? My dashing flowing hair? Or perhaps my overwhelmingly elegant temperament?" He paused for dramatic effect, patting the item strapped to his back. "No, wait. It must have been my stunning, supreme-grade fishing rod that gave me away."
Indeed, for reasons known only to him, Jerry had brought his favorite fishing rod ashore, perhaps hoping to snag a few solid gold fish from one of Gran Tesoro's many fountains.
In a shadowed corner of the casino, a blind man in a purple kimono, holding a simple wooden cane, slowly turned his head toward the commotion. An X-shaped scar was prominent on his forehead. This was the Future Marine Admiral Fujitora, whose real name was Issho. He had been one of the powerful presences Jerry sensed upon boarding the ship, and he listened to the unfolding chaos with an unreadable expression.
Meanwhile, hidden from view, a head phased through the ornate ceiling. Mr. Tanaka, the casino's head of security and user of the Through-Through Fruit, watched with wide, panicked eyes. The moment he heard the name "Leviathan," he knew this was far beyond his pay grade. He immediately began reporting the situation to his boss, Tesoro.
Ignoring the growing buzz from the crowd, Bakkin's mind raced. Her initial plan to extort money had just become far more complicated, but also potentially more profitable. A wicked smile spread across her face.
"Well, this is just perfect," she cackled. "You spent time with the Whitebeard Pirates, didn't you? Then you must know who we are!"
"Honestly, I don't really care who you are," Jerry retorted, his tone dismissive. "You came at us looking for a fight. You'd better be prepared for one. I have a simple policy: fight first, ask for names and build relationships later."
He could easily guess her angle—trying to leverage her supposed connection to Whitebeard. But Jerry's patience had worn thin.
Seeing her attempt at intimidation fall flat, Bakkin took two sharp, angry breaths and waved a hand at her son. Even if her opponent was the infamous Jerry, she had absolute faith in Weevil's power.
Weevil let out another guttural cry and charged, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor.
"You guys should probably step back," Jerry said over his shoulder to his crew. "It'd be a shame if this big oaf accidentally squashed you."
He glanced back to see that Skull, ever the pragmatist, had already swept every last one of his winnings off the table and into a large sack. Deuce, holding Kotatsu, was already inching towards the edge of the crowd.
"Right! Be careful, Jerry!" Deuce called out, his voice tight with worry. Years of sailing with reckless captains had honed his danger sense to a razor's edge.
Skull slung the heavy bag over his shoulder. "We've secured the assets, Captain!" he declared, giving Jerry a quick pat on the back before making a hasty retreat with Deuce.
With his friends clear, Jerry faced Weevil and curled his index finger in a taunting "come on" gesture. "Alright, big guy. You wanted a fight? Let's go. Just don't cry to your mommy when I knock your teeth out."
"Hmph! You're the one who's gonna cry!" Weevil bellowed, his face red with fury. "Mom says I'm very smart!"
Two jets of steam shot from his nostrils. In an instant, he closed the distance, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. He swung his bisento in a wide, horizontal sweep, aiming to cut Jerry in half at the waist. The attack splintered a row of card tables, sending a shower of wood and golden chips flying.
Jerry leaped high into the air, dodging the blade with an acrobatic flip. As he came down, he lashed out with his heel, aiming a powerful axe kick at Weevil's head.
CLANG!
Weevil, reacting on pure instinct, blocked the blow with the thick shaft of his weapon. The impact forced him back half a step. He grunted, turning his wrist and swinging the bisento upwards to intercept Jerry, who was still in mid-air.
It was a deadly position to be in, but Jerry was a master of the Marine's Six Styles. At the critical moment, he kicked his legs against the air itself, using
Moonwalk to create a foothold where there was none. A small shockwave bloomed beneath his feet as he launched himself forward, using the momentum to dodge the upward slash.
Now inside Weevil's guard, he twisted his body, his shoulder and back glowing with the dark sheen of Armament Haki. He slammed his entire body into the giant's soft, exposed belly.
"Iron Mountain Ram!"
The sudden, explosive impact struck Weevil dead-center. Though he managed to throw up a hasty layer of his own Haki, it wasn't enough. Jerry's attack was imbued with the penetrating properties, designed to inflict internal damage. Weevil staggered back, a choked, retching sound escaping his lips as he felt his insides churn violently from the thunderous blow.