THUD!
Willy's corpse hit the floor. Wilson half-knelt beside it, his bloodied spiked club jammed into the deck to hold him upright. Blood streamed down his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Jin stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the groans of the wounded and the creak of the ship.
"The rift between humans and Fishmen… its roots are not truly in either race," he murmured. "The fault lies with those who created the world's order."
"For now, let's just call them they."
"They stand above all races, bleeding the world dry, scattering seeds of pain, hatred, and war. They are the true culprits."
Wilson's eyes widened.
He remembered—Fisher Tiger, on the day he freed the slaves, had spoken nearly the same words. He had ordered his crew never to harm humans without cause. Even those who fought against them.
But many Fishmen, driven by hatred, couldn't accept that. The Sun Pirates eventually fractured because of it.
Only after years, after betrayals and bitter lessons, had Wilson come to understand Tiger's foresight.
Yet this young man before him spoke the same truth with a clarity that shook his heart. For the first time, Wilson felt genuine respect rising within him.
"…Go to the infirmary. Have your wounds treated."
Jin's tone was simple, commanding. Then he turned, voice cutting through the air like a blade.
"Clear the corpses."
His men moved at once.
Jin strode back into the Carrier's citadel. His eyes turned once more to the sea, searching for prey.
He had been careful not to make his move on Hannabal itself—the swarm of pirates there would have crushed even him. But out here, on the open sea, ships were scattered. And scattered prey made for easy hunting.
One by one, he hunted them down. A lone sloop. A brigantine. A galleon. Swallowed whole. Like a serpent gorging itself, the Carrier devoured ship after ship.
No captain could stand against him. Not here, in the early waters of the Grand Line.
Most pirate crews in this stretch barely reached a twenty-million bounty. A bounty of sixty or seventy million already marked a notorious great pirate.
No wonder Luffy's thirty million had shaken the world—it was a line crossed early, a declaration.
But here? This was not the New World, where bounties soared past the hundreds of millions. This was the shallow end.
Men like Krieg should have been able to make it further. If not for the misfortune of crossing paths with Mihawk.
Hours passed. When the sea grew quiet, when no more ships appeared, Jin opened the Carrier's data screen.
[Primary Authority: Captain Jin]
[Hull: Length 36m, Width 18m, Height 10.6m, Mass 88 tons]
[Interior: 420 × 108 × 42 cubic meters]
[Abilities: Munch-Munch Fruit, Mushroom-Mushroom Fruit]
[Armaments: 3 great cannons, 5 heavy cannons, 1,239 firearms, 1,564 blades]
[Next Evolution Requirements: Soul Crystals 721/500 (complete), Refined Steel 23/20 tons (complete), Gold 0.2/1 ton, Silver 3/5 tons, Rare Earths 10/50 tons, Active Material 0/3]
Outwardly, the Carrier looked the same. But within, its spaces had grown wider, deeper, hungrier. Its arsenal had expanded.
The soul crystals were more than enough. Steel, gold, silver, rare earths—those could be solved.
The problem was the active material.
Zero out of three.
Three Devil Fruits.
"Right now, the Candy-Candy Fruit is scheduled…" Jin muttered, rubbing his temple. "Still short two more."
He sighed. "Troublesome."
"Master." Little Ai's voice rang sharp. "The Salamander detected ahead!"
Jin's eyes snapped open, fire blazing.
"…Found it?!"
He had thought it lost.
At the same moment, aboard the Salamander—
"Admiral, ship spotted astern. Grinning Skull Pirates!" the lookout called.
Gasparde's lips curled in a predatory grin. "At last. Prepare for battle."
"Sir!"
His crew surged to the railings, muskets loaded, cutlasses drawn. Cannon crews scrambled into position.
But before steel clashed, the ship itself roared to life.
The Salamander was a marvel of the Navy's science, a hybrid steam-and-sail warship.
Seventy-six meters long, thirty-four wide, a draught of seven and a half meters. Thirty-six cannons behind ironclad sides. A smoke-belching chimney.
With steam, she made 12.5 knots. With sails, nearly 14.
She had been stolen straight from a harbor berth, seized under Gasparde's hand.
And with her, he had run rampant across these waters. Iron hull, heavy guns—what ordinary pirate crew could stand? When the Navy pressed him, he fled into the Calm Belt, where sea kings themselves prowled.
He knew their tactics too well—he had been one of them. He always stayed one step ahead, slipping every encirclement.
The Navy's jaws ached with fury. But they had no teeth to spare. Four Emperors, rising supernovae—the Grand Line burned hotter every year. No ships could be risked on Gasparde.
And there were… other reasons.
Some strings the Navy never pulled too tight.
Some friends Gasparde still had inside, who needed a glove to do their dirty work.
Mutual favors.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
The Salamander's guns roared, sending iron screaming across the waves. The shells slammed into the water around the Genesis, geysers exploding skyward. The force was three, four times greater than any pirate brig.
"Return fire."
Jin's order rang out. The Carrier's forward cannons swiveled, barrels glowing. Shells fed themselves into place, Little Ai's guidance system adjusting every angle.
THOOM-THOOM-THOOM!
The deck shuddered. Flame and smoke belched outward.
But these were not mere shells.
From the Carrier's fungal labs came war-spores—sleep-shrooms, tear-gas caps, choking molds.
Unbelievable, perhaps, in any other world. But here? Where Devil Fruits rewrote reality itself? The Mushroom-Mushroom Fruit made the impossible possible.
Combined with Little Ai's analysis, spores could be fused, crossbred, designed to bloom into chaos.
CRASH!
Shells struck the Salamander's deck.
HSSSSS…
Clouds billowed. Spores spread. Sailors coughed, screamed, collapsed.
Some snored where they stood, dreaming.
Some fell sobbing to the planks, tears streaming.
Some clawed their throats, faces darkening as air deserted them.
Some shrieked in terror, slashing at invisible imps dancing around them in rainbow light.
"Don't breathe! The smoke is poison!"
"Damn it!"
"General—help! Hel—"
Gasparde's jaw clenched. Veins stood out on his forehead. His fists curled tight enough to bleed.
"Coward's tricks…"
Half his crew undone without even a boarding action.
He roared, glaring across twenty meters of open sea at the Genesis.
"You'll regret that."
His legs coiled. And then he leapt.
Like a cannonball himself, he tore across the gap, landing hard on the Carrier's rail.
The wind caught his cape, revealing an iron chest carved with muscle, eight-pack gleaming, eyes sharp and burning.
And there—
From the citadel's gate, Jin stepped forth. His black hair cropped short, his gaze like a drawn blade, his spirit burning bright.
Their eyes met. Sparks flew unseen.
From on high, Gasparde looked down with disdain. "You mean to challenge me?"
Jin's reply was soft. Certain.
"Challenge? You misunderstand."
"Today… I mean only to kill you."