A blade of wind came from the left—another from the right.
The angles were vicious. The timing was worse.
Hermes couldn't dodge cleanly. No matter how you looked at it, it was a dead end.
So he finally used his Devil Fruit.
In a flash—
Hermes shrank to fifty centimeters.
Two blades howled over his head, missing by a hair. Any closer and they'd have shaved his scalp clean—he'd be rocking a "monk haircut" for life.
He seized the opening, sprang behind one pirate, and drove his right hand forward—power condensed into a single lethal point.
The man didn't even have time to react.
Hermes's fingers punched straight through the kidney. When he pulled back, he even brought out torn bits of flesh.
At the same time, his body snapped back to normal height.
He followed with a hard kick to the pirate's stomach.
A huge shadow flew.
The pirate crashed through chairs and tables, landing in a pool of blood. He clawed at his wound, struggled a few times—
and couldn't get back up.
But it wasn't over yet.
The last pirate lunged in, trying to take advantage.
Hermes didn't even bother turning his head.
He shrank to fifty centimeters again and kicked the pirate's shin.
The man's center of gravity vanished. He toppled.
And once he fell—
the fight was over.
Hermes returned to full size.
One Finger Pistol slammed into the pirate's temple, punching through the skull and stirring the brain into mush.
The pirate convulsed a few times… then went still.
Total wipe.
Hermes stood among the bodies, drenched in blood. His breathing was heavy, his face pale.
The tavern had gone eerily quiet.
"Wait… what was that? That kid just got smaller, didn't he?"
"No way—he's a user."
"A Devil Fruit user."
"Shrinking ability?"
Some people caught the shift. Others didn't. After all, the sea had plenty of strange powers beyond Devil Fruits—odd races, bizarre techniques.
"They didn't die for nothing. He's a user."
"That brat's vicious… he held the ability back until the end."
"Damn. So this is what a Devil Fruit user looks like…"
The whispers didn't matter to Hermes.
He stayed alert, caught his breath—
then calmly picked up a blade and started harvesting heads.
His expression was flat. His movements practiced. He didn't blink.
The room that had been murmuring a second ago fell completely silent again.
The sight was… brutal.
Horrific.
A real monster.
Several pirates swallowed hard, fear and wariness in their eyes.
So young, yet so cold-blooded—killing without hesitation.
What they didn't know was that Hermes's heart had been colder than a butcher's knife for a long time now.
"Anyone know their bounties?" Hermes asked, scanning the room. "Payment: one head."
Plenty of pirates had already gone back to drinking.
The ones shocked stiff were mostly fresh rookies. The ones who'd sailed, seen blood, and survived? They just smirked and kept sipping like nothing happened.
"Kid, those guys were just small fry," someone said lazily, chewing on a fresh slice of pizza. "That one in your hand is about fifteen million. The others are between two and eight million."
He grinned, amused.
"And I'll do you a favor—those were Dog-Dog Pirates. You killed them, their captain Joya will come after you."
"You're in trouble now."
Hermes didn't flinch.
"What's their captain's bounty?"
He casually tossed over a head worth eight million.
"Thirty-eight million. Good luck."
The pirate pinned the rolling head under his boot, completely unbothered. Eight million Beli wasn't pocket change.
Hermes shrugged like it was nothing.
He left two heads behind as compensation for the tavern owner, then carried the rest of his "loot" out the door.
He needed to wash up.
And he needed to convert these trophies into Beli.
That part was easy.
Before coming, Hermes had already asked around.
No matter what world you lived in, there was always a middleman.
Find the right shop, and you could trade heads for cash on the spot.
Of course, the middlemen took their cut.
Forty percent of each bounty.
A robbery.
But convenient.
And it meant he didn't have to go through the Marines.
Not long after Hermes left, news spread fast:
Dog-Dog Pirates had been killed.
In Mayute Town, that was a big deal. The Dog-Dog Pirates were one of the top crews in the area.
Someone killing their men was basically a slap across the face.
A declaration.
"What did you just say?"
On Sweetheart Street, inside a pleasure house, an incredulous roar burst out—rage barely contained.
Served by two singers, a man stepped out of a bath.
He was nearly four meters tall, soaked, his body crisscrossed with scars. His eyes were sharp enough to cut.
He stared down at the pirate messenger.
"Captain… our men were killed."
"Who the hell in this town dares touch my people?" Joya snarled. "Chainman? Or that twin-wheel gunner, Kokos?"
In Joya's mind, only the Chain Pirates and the Twin-Wheel Pirates were even worth mentioning in Mayute Town.
Was someone trying to start a war?
"…Neither," the messenger said, voice tight. "It was a kid."
"A kid?"
Joya's voice lifted slightly—cold deepening in his eyes.
"Mobilize everyone. Find that brat."
The Dog-Dog Pirates moved immediately, making a loud, aggressive sweep through the town.
It drew attention from every other group.
Everyone wanted to know what was going on.
Once people started digging, Hermes's name spread.
To many, it sounded simple:
He was an idiot.
A newcomer—either from outside, or just some fearless calf who didn't know what the butcher's knife looked like.
He'd actually dared provoke one of Mayute Town's strongest pirate crews.
Like walking into a latrine and lighting a lamp.
Suicide.
Meanwhile, Hermes checked into an inn, washed himself clean, then visited a clinic to bandage his wounds.
Mostly superficial cuts—no broken bones, nothing deep.
That one fight—one man against many—had taught him a lot.
As always, battle was the fastest path to strength.
And the fastest path to a fatter wallet.
Exactly the kind of life Hermes liked.
He found a street stall selling udon and started refueling. Since coming to this world, his appetite had only grown—especially after training and fighting.
That felt like a good sign.
In the One Piece world, the strong always seemed to eat like monsters.
One bowl. Two. Three.
Plus a couple of giant meat legs.
Hermes started out wolfing it down, then slowed into a satisfied, steady pace.
He was almost finished when a dozen pirates surrounded him.
"Is it this kid?"
"Yeah. I saw him carrying heads to cash them in."
"Boss, look at me—my aim is—"
The flattering lackey didn't even finish.
A gunshot cracked—
and he dropped dead without a scream.
"So it's you," the leader said, gripping an axe as he loomed over Hermes. "You killed Dog-Dog Pirates men?"
Pirates around him raised flintlocks, barrels aimed right at Hermes.
This had to be one of Joya's key subordinates.
The man radiated killing intent—pure menace.
Hermes didn't answer.
Instead—
SMACK!
A full bowl of udon, soup and all, flew straight into the man's face.
Hermes stayed consistent: ruthless, few words.
Just fight.
The axe-man's reaction was fast. He split the bowl in half with one swing.
At the same time, the pirates behind him opened fire.
But Hermes had already moved.
The instant he threw the bowl, he charged.
As the axe came down—
Hermes's Finger Pistol detonated into the man's side.
"Damn it!"
Pain stabbed through the axe-man's waist. He wobbled, nearly losing his grip.
Hermes pressed the advantage immediately, driving his left-hand Finger Pistol straight for the throat—
A chunk of flesh tore free.
The axe-man barely twisted away from what should've been a killing blow.
But Hermes was even faster.
His fingers hooked and ripped as he missed, almost tearing a major blood vessel loose.
Just as Hermes was about to finish it—
Several more gunshots forced him to abandon the follow-up.
He rolled on the ground without the slightest dignity and dove straight into the nearest restaurant, triggering a wave of screams.