These guys weren't just muggers; they were human traffickers. Killing them wouldn't be unjustified, but it felt like letting them off too easy.
'Do they have any accomplices?' Bardock mused. 'Maybe I should use them as bait. I'll tie them up, wait for their crew to come looking, and wipe them all out at once. Or better yet, I could follow them and bust their entire trafficking ring.'
Mind made up, Bardock stripped the unconscious thugs of their shirts, twisting the fabric into makeshift ropes. He hog-tied the five men together, blindfolded them, and gagged their mouths. Satisfied with his handiwork, he scaled one of the massive mangrove roots, shifted into his Monkey King Beast Form for maximum stealth and defense, and settled in to wait.
Just as the sky began to darken, a group finally appeared. There were ten of them in total, all heavily armed and exuding the kind of dangerous aura that made ordinary civilians run for the hills. Seeing the five bound men, they didn't hesitate or show any caution; they just marched right up and yanked off the blindfolds.
Bardock didn't rush to attack. He carefully observed the surroundings and quietly circled the upper canopy. Good. No one else was hiding in ambush.
Just as he readied himself to strike, their conversation drifted up to him, instantly killing his momentum.
"Hey, boss. Isn't this Camon's crew?"
"Oh? Let me see." A burly man with a thick, scruffy beard stepped forward and grabbed the two-and-a-half-meter giant—apparently named Camon—by the hair, yanking his head back to check his face. "Yep, it's them. These bastards have been pretty arrogant lately, stealing a lot of our business. Wake him up and find out what happened. Looks like they messed with the wrong guy!"
The moment the order left his mouth, a lackey stepped up and began slapping Camon violently across the face—a rather brute-force wake-up call. Unfortunately for them, Camon was far too heavily injured to wake up anytime soon.
"Boss, Camon's been stealing our shipments anyway. Why don't we just sell them off?!" one of the thugs suggested eagerly. "I mean, it's not like they can fight back right now."
"Are you crazy? Didn't Camon say he has connections inside the Human Auctioning House at Grove 1?" another lackey asked, clearly hesitant.
"Connections, my ass!" a third thug scoffed. "He literally just has a guy from his hometown working as a door guard there, and he goes around bragging like he owns the place."
"Screw it, we're doing it!" the bearded boss finally decided, slapping his thigh. "In our line of work, if you don't eat the meat that falls right into your lap, you might as well go home and farm sweet potatoes! Load 'em up!"
Watching the rival gang effortlessly haul Camon and his men away into the night, Bardock scratched his head, utterly speechless.
Well, that was an unexpected plot twist. He had genuinely believed these ten guys were Camon's backup, but they turned out to be rival traffickers who were just going to sell their competition into slavery.
'Those who sell people get sold themselves,' Bardock thought, shaking his head. 'Serves them right.'
Human trafficking was disgustingly rampant in the Sabaody Archipelago, but Bardock decided to stay out of it. Without destroying the root of the problem, killing a few random traffickers would achieve absolutely nothing. Even the Marines turned a blind eye to it; how was he supposed to fix it all by himself? Unless they messed with him directly, or he caught them actively committing a crime, it was better to keep his head down.
'My legs fell asleep waiting in this tree for absolutely nothing,' he grumbled, feeling thoroughly ashamed of how much time he'd just wasted. 'Whatever. I'm going to get a room for the night. Tomorrow, I'll figure out how to apply for passage over the Red Line into the West Blue.'
At 9:30 the next morning, Bardock was already waiting outside the World Government's Sabaody Archipelago branch office.
After checking into a hotel the previous night, he had grilled the receptionist about the application process for crossing the Red Line. He quickly realized it wasn't going to be a walk in the park:
First, the background checks for civilians were insanely strict. After submitting an application, just verifying a person's identity took ages. Half the guests in the hotel district were people waiting in bureaucratic limbo for their permits. The longest-staying guest had been stuck there for over a month. Bardock could understand the logic—they had to be thorough to stop pirates from slipping through—but the World Government's efficiency was undeniably abysmal.
Second, citizens of non-World Government affiliated nations were completely barred from applying. This also made sense. If you didn't pay the Heavenly Tribute, you didn't get to use their facilities.
Third, passage over the Red Line was heavily quota-gated; they only approved a set number of people per day. Since it was only a month away from the New Year, the World Government staff atop the Red Line would soon go on holiday, meaning they were only processing applications up until the break. Furthermore, they didn't roll over applications into the next year. If you didn't make the cut this year, you had to try again next year.
The original Bardock's homeland, the Ilusia Kingdom, was not only affiliated with the World Government but also a powerful nation holding a seat at the Levely. So the first two points didn't worry him. Even though his physical ID papers had been lost at sea, his citizen records were definitely on file, and his background check would likely be expedited compared to someone from a minor nation. His real fear was that the quota for the year was already full.
Murphy's Law dictated that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. The moment the office doors finally opened, the very first thing the official announced was: "All Red Line transit permits for this year have been exhausted! We are no longer accepting or processing applications!"
The crowd of applicants immediately erupted in outraged shouts and complaints. Bardock just stood there, speechless. His journey home was turning into a complete nightmare, and the talented crewmates he desperately needed were waiting for him all the way in the West Blue!
Of course, in the world of One Piece, every rule had a loophole if you had the right connections or enough Berries for a bribe. Unfortunately, Bardock was a nobody civilian with a very finite supply of cash.
'I need to make some serious money to grease the wheels,' he thought with a scowl. 'If I actually wait until next year, who knows how long the queue will be? I might as well just fly there myself.'
Bardock didn't waste any more time at the office; he spun on his heel and headed straight back to his hotel.
'Wait a second... fly there?' He stopped walking, his eyes widening. 'I can literally see the Red Line from Sabaody! If I can see it, I can't get lost! That massive red wall stretches across the entire world! Even if I drift slightly off course on my Flying Nimbus, as long as I head towards the Red Line, I won't run out of stamina suspended over an empty ocean!'
'And navigating the West Blue is even easier! It doesn't have the chaotic, broken magnetic fields of the Grand Line. I just need a standard compass and a high-quality nautical chart. The weather is stable, there are way more islands to use as pit stops, and there's heavy maritime traffic, meaning I could easily hitch a ride on a passing ship.'
Mind made up, Bardock picked up his pace. He couldn't keep staying in a hotel. He needed to rent a house in a quiet, secluded area. It had been way too long since his last proper training session.
'Physical conditioning, swordsmanship practice... and I need to sneak into the local Marine Base to learn the Rokushiki techniques.'
After a busy afternoon of house-hunting, Bardock secured a rental property in Grove 46. He signed a three-month lease for six hundred thousand Berries. The house was perched atop a massive, isolated mangrove root, completely detached from any neighbors.
He had chosen it specifically for that reason. His training routines were incredibly destructive, and he didn't want to draw any unwanted attention.
'Two hundred thousand for a decent sword, a hundred thousand for weights and training equipment, and the rest goes toward groceries and daily necessities.'
Bardock mentally calculated his monstrous caloric intake. His supplies would last him about five days. After that, he'd be flat broke and starving.
'I can't take a normal job; it would eat into my training schedule,' he muttered, trying to hype himself up. 'I need to be bolder. I'm not weak anymore. I can easily hunt down some low-bounty pirates for their cash...'
On one hand, he was still dealing with the isolating reality of being entirely alone in a bizarre, alien world. On the other hand, he simply knew too much about the manga's future timeline. This meta-knowledge had made him overly paranoid, constantly second-guessing himself and holding back his true potential.
He stared out the window, his eyes narrowing with determination. 'It's time to change that.'