"Kid… this is a nasty wound."
After waking up, Hermes picked a small neighborhood clinic at random. The moment he undid his bandage, the old doctor's brows knit together—the flesh was split open, edges turned out, ugly and deep.
Taking a hit like that and still walking around? This wasn't some ordinary youngster.
"Use the best medicine you've got," Hermes said calmly. "Fastest recovery possible."
He wasn't short on cash. He hadn't even converted all his loot into beli yet, but the earlier bounties alone were enough to burn through for a while.
When you've got money, you feel steady. No panic.
"No problem." The doctor patted his chest on instinct. "With enough money, I can bring the dead back."
"Do you need anesthetic?"
"No."
Hermes refused without hesitation.
Anesthetic meant dull senses. Dull senses meant dying.
Out in the world, what kept Hermes alive wasn't muscle—it was vigilance… and the tiny scrap of conscience he still hadn't spent.
The doctor didn't care either way. Hermes was paying, which made him God.
Still… for a kid this young to grit his teeth through stitching like that?
That took some spine.
Disinfection. Needle. Thread.
The doctor moved smoothly—too smooth. A man who'd done this far too many times.
As the stitches bit into him, Hermes's fists clenched so hard the veins stood out. Sweat poured down his face. His lips went pale.
It hurt.
It hurt like hell.
He tried to keep it in, but a groan still slipped out. Between the panting and the hot sweat, it'd be easy for someone to misunderstand what was happening in that room.
Old man and young man. Alone.
"Kid," the doctor said, trying to distract him, "where'd you even get hurt like this? Good thing you wrapped it earlier—sloppy as it was. Otherwise it could've gone rotten fast."
A decent doctor. Or at least… decent when money was involved.
"Killed a pirate," Hermes answered, playing along. "Made a bit of living money."
The doctor nodded, misunderstanding the scale completely. In his mind Hermes had probably jumped some low-bounty thug—few hundred, few thousand beli at most. The kid looked too young for anything else.
"That's dangerous work. You're dancing on a blade. Better to find a steady job."
"Factory work doesn't suit me."
"Factory… work?"
The doctor blinked, confused. The kid was a bit odd. Maybe not all the way normal in the head.
He pretended he understood and changed the topic.
"Have you heard? The Dog-Dog Pirates' captain, Joya, got killed by some kid. That's a big deal—thirty-eight million bounty."
Hermes's mouth curved slightly.
So it'd spread.
It was… addictive, actually. No wonder big shots chased fame like oxygen.
"Shocking, huh?" he asked lightly.
"Shocking? That was the Dog-Dog Pirates! And I heard that kid was a pirate hunter too—someone who lives off bounties. Same line of work as you, I guess."
The doctor sounded… almost admiring.
A moment later, he tied off the last stitch.
"All done. Rest a few days, don't get it wet. It'll heal quick. Come back to remove the stitches."
Not bad. The old man had real skill.
Hermes stood and gently tested his body. It felt stable.
"Good work. I'll come back and 'support your business' next time."
He tossed down a fistful of beli and walked out, leaving the doctor staring after him.
What a strange kid.
Days flipped into nights.
A full week passed in a blink.
Hermes's wound had already closed seven or eight parts out of ten—faster than expected. Back in his old world, he wouldn't be walking right for a hundred days.
Even injured, he didn't stop training. He just dialed down the intensity.
He'd also cashed in his loot.
As expected, the middlemen carved off nearly half.
Still—close to twenty million beli remained.
A fortune.
On a balcony of a tavern, Hermes studied two wanted posters.
Chain Pirates. Twin-Wheel Pirates.
The other two major forces in Mayute Town.
"Chainman," captain of the Chain Pirates — 43,000,000 bounty.
A skinny man with curled hair, flashy and slippery, deadly with a chain weapon.
Kokos, the Twin-Wheel Gunslinger, captain of the Twin-Wheel Pirates — 44,000,000 bounty.
A marksman said to wield his twin wheel-guns like they were part of his body.
Hermes smiled faintly.
Two walking vaults.
Night fell.
Thick clouds pressed low—rain threatening.
At the Chain Pirates' base, men bustled everywhere. They'd just returned from a run, after a real fight—another pirate crew wiped out, valuables piled high.
They'd lost men too, but compared to the haul, it was still a win.
The only bad news?
Their captain was injured.
Inside a quiet room reeking of blood, the ship's doctor was cleaning and bandaging Chainman's wounds. Chainman's face was pale—he'd been hit hard.
"Lucky me," a voice said lazily. "Perfect timing. I'll take the leftovers."
The sound hit like a knife.
Chainman and the ship's doctor both went rigid.
On a chair not far away—where no one had been a moment ago—sat a young man with one leg crossed over the other, watching them like he owned the room.
"...The brat who killed Joya."
"…Hermes Jormungandr."
Chainman's instincts screamed.
He reached for the chain weapon by the bed. The ship's doctor yanked out a pistol.
A man like this didn't come to chat.
He came to collect.
Hermes, as always, didn't waste words.
He grabbed the table and hurled it like a cannonball—then shot forward right behind it.
BANG!!
"Enemy—!"
The ship's doctor fired instantly. Chainman shouted for his men—he was badly injured and couldn't afford a straight fight.
If this kid killed Joya, it wasn't luck.
Pop-pop-pop—!
Bullets punched through the table as it flew, but its momentum didn't stop. The doctor braced and swung—
The table smashed aside and shattered.
But the doctor staggered, balance broken for just a beat.
"Finger Pistol."
When his vision cleared, a finger was already buried in his throat.
His eyes widened.
Air vanished.
His soul felt like it was being squeezed dry.
A moment later, he collapsed, both hands clutching the wound, blood spilling between his fingers.
"Save me—"
The words didn't finish.
The light in his eyes went out.
Clink—clink—clink.
Chainman moved too.
His chain snapped outward like a venomous snake—twisting, vicious, aiming to wrap Hermes whole.
But Hermes shrank at once, slipped the coil, hopped—then expanded mid-step and whipped a kick across with a sharp wind.
BOOM—!
Chainman managed to block, but the impact still sent him flying into the wall with a dull thud.
The half-finished bandage tore open.
Fresh blood bloomed across his side like ink.
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