Bang!
The crisp, heavy crack of a gunshot left everyone stunned.
Xiao Kaka's head snapped up—first to Benn Beckman at her side. For a heartbeat her heart clenched, terrified she'd see him falling.
…but he was still standing. Untouched.
She let out a shaky breath and glanced at the Red Hair crew. All of them were upright, faces set and solemn. No one had been hit.
If none of them were shot—then who—
A body toppled with a flat thud.
The bald sub-captain lay stiff on the ground, a bloody hole drilled neat through his forehead.
Kaka stared, dumbstruck—until a larger, steadier hand closed around hers.
She looked up at Benn Beckman. The ever-composed vice-captain lowered his smoking flintlock by slow degrees.
"Kaka," he said quietly, "lesson one for living on the sea."
"Don't draw your gun lightly."
"But if you draw it—never stop halfway."
Don't draw lightly… The words echoed as she stared at the corpse's face, frozen in disbelief—as if the man had never imagined they'd actually pull the trigger.
The stream had hung in silence for two seconds; now it erupted.
[ Quote of the year from Vice-Captain Beckman! ]
[ Don't draw easy—draw to kill. ]
[ Clean, cold, and righteous. Even if it means war, he avenged Kaka. ]
[ Benn is so damn A! ]
Kaka felt no triumph. She lifted her eyes to the Hild Pirates.
Their captain recovered from shock first. He stepped forward, lips peeling in a snarl. "You killed one of mine. You're begging to die."
His mouth split wider—and his body swelled. In a blink he crouched on all fours, a hulking wolf more than two meters at the shoulder and over three long from nose to tail.
"Zoan-type?" Benn murmured, rapping his temple as memory clicked. "Right… yesterday's bounty sheet. Ten million Beli—Hild the Wild Wolf."
Hild's lupine maw curled. "If you know my name—curl up and die!"
[ Another Devil Fruit user?! Are they everywhere out here? ]
[ Maybe all the real hitters on this sea ate one. ]
[ Not gonna lie… this wolf looks stronger than Straw Hat. ]
[ Rubber is cute. Wolf that size? On Blue Star, it'd ragdoll a brown bear. ]
[ It's over. Red Hair's done. If Benn had shot a warning or missed, maybe. But he killed a commander—Hild won't let this go. ]
[ They killed for Kaka. That's a crew you can trust. Shame it's the end… ]
The wolf moved.
A low, rolling snarl rattled the street as Hild launched. The killing intent froze Kaka in place; even the thought of running wouldn't come. Facing a ten-million-Beli raider head-on, she went cold to her bones.
Warmth squeezed her fingers—tugged her back to herself.
She looked up. Benn had raised his flintlock again, gaze flat and calm, as if the feral beast in mid-pounce were no more than a stray to be put down.
He started to tighten the trigger.
A lazy voice drifted in front of them. "You took down their underling. If the enemy captain's stepping up… shouldn't their captain be mine?"
Kaka's eyes flew wide. A figure stood between her and death—red hair bright as a banner.
"Shanks!"
His right hand settled on the hilt at his waist. The long blade slid free—Gryphon—and a single, unadorned arc of steel drew itself in the air.
The charging wolf halted—suspended mid-lunge.
And then Kaka saw something she would remember for the rest of her life.
So did one and a half million viewers.
Hild's massive body, still trying to hurl itself forward, met a resistance that wasn't there—and could not pass. The sword stroke had cut more than flesh; it had severed momentum itself.
A hair-thin line of red traced down his brow… then his face… then his chest.
The wolf split.
Two halves peeled apart in midair.
They fell in steaming slabs. A canyon of a sword mark cleaved the street where he would have landed; the shockwave roared on, shearing into the ranks of Hild's men. Sub-captains at the front came apart like paper, and the force kept going—through stone, through earth—until the little island's ground opened, the rift racing on toward the sea.
The water beyond tore in a jagged seam.
The chat went dead.
Kaka stared at the bisected beast, at the Hild Pirates crumbling to pieces, at the island cut in two—and even, impossibly—at the sea itself, scarred by a single cut.
Thought fled her.
What remained of the Hild crew looked up, trembling, at the man in the black cloak, right arm bared, left sleeve empty—red hair blazing.
A whisper became a scream. "H-he's… Red-Haired Shanks!"
"R-Red-Haired… Shanks?!"
Memory hit them like a storm. Four words beat in every skull with the weight of legend.
One of the Four Emperors.
But why—why would a Yonko's crew be here? On some nameless island in the East Blue?
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