Crack! Crack!
White Blade and the old man looked up simultaneously.
The ceiling above them twisted unnaturally, wooden beams bending inward as though space itself had warped. Fine fractures raced across the plaster in jagged lines, splintering outward in every direction.
Then
With a violent crash, the chandelier tore free and the entire section of ceiling collapsed.
"What's going on?!"
Shouts erupted.
White Blade reacted instantly. His hand moved with the speed of a seasoned swordsman; steel flashed from its scabbard in a single fluid motion. With one decisive slash, he cleaved the falling debris apart, splitting beams and stone midair.
The collapse opened a hole roughly two meters wide. Sunlight poured through, flooding the previously dim chamber with harsh brilliance.
From above, a calm voice drifted down.
"The Smanel Kingdom doing business with pirates… how interesting. Unfortunately, your transaction ends here."
A figure dropped through the opening.
He wore a leather hat pulled low over his eyes. One hand steadied the brim as he descended lightly onto the rubble, landing without so much as a stumble.
Gasps filled the room.
"Who is that?!"
"How dare you interrupt-!"
The old man in the bowler hat stiffened.
The moment he saw the man's face clearly, his pupils shrank.
"You're… Ghost Hand Rowan!"
They had once attempted to locate the Ghost Hand Pirates for negotiations but failed to establish contact. Now, instead of being summoned, their target had arrived uninvited.
White Blade narrowed his eyes.
"So you're Ghost Hand Rowan."
In recent months, that name had swept across the West Blue like a rising storm. Pirate crews wiped out. Marine branches humiliated. Underworld forces shattered.
Where Rowan walked, blood followed.
"Are you here for me?" White Blade asked, hand tightening around his sword hilt.
"Yes."
Rowan's answer was simple.
He stepped down from the rubble and began walking forward, unhurried, composed.
The pirates under White Blade felt the weight of his presence pressing against their chests. Even the underworld agents of the Smanel Kingdom felt their throats tighten.
White Blade's expression darkened.
He had ruled the seas for years, carrying a bounty of 35 million Berries. Rowan, in contrast, had risen only recently. A newcomer daring to hunt him?
The hunter and prey had yet to be decided.
Without further words
White Blade moved.
"One-Sword Style: Evil Sever!"
He stepped forward and drew in the same motion, blade cutting diagonally toward Rowan's torso with lethal precision.
The slash passed through
Nothing.
White Blade's eyes widened.
No resistance.
No impact.
No sound of steel biting flesh.
In that split second, instinct screamed danger.
Soru.
A burst of explosive footwork displaced Rowan's position in an instant. Air snapped beside White Blade's flank as Rowan reappeared within striking range.
A fist drove forward.
White Blade twisted desperately and brought his blade around to intercept.
The impact was catastrophic.
Crack!
The sword shattered at the midpoint.
The force carried through steel and into bone. White Blade's forearm crumpled grotesquely under the shockwave.
"AAAAAH--!"
He stumbled backward, clutching his mangled arm, attempting to retreat through the wall behind him.
He never reached it.
Rowan moved again faster than sight could properly follow.
The katana Harukaze flashed in a horizontal arc.
A clean, merciless stroke.
White Blade's head separated from his body in a spray of red.
His expression froze in disbelief.
Two exchanges.
That was all it took.
As his vision faded, White Blade's final thought was fragmented.
"So… that's his ability…"
Darkness swallowed him.
---
Inside Rowan's mind, the familiar synthesized voice of the Talent System echoed.
"Pirate Captain 'White Blade.' Bounty: 35,000,000 Berries. Eliminated. Reward: 60 Talent Proficiency Points. 1 Free Talent Point awarded."
Rowan stood silently over the fallen body.
His earlier displacement had not been true invisibility, nor a phantom trick. By subtly warping the air and refracting light at the moment of movement combined with Soru-level speed he had created a brief visual distortion, enough to misdirect even a veteran swordsman.
But even without that distortion, the outcome would not have changed.
Their difference in raw physical ability was already decisive.
Around him, silence reigned.
The pirates of the Hundred Blades Crew stared in horror at their captain's corpse.
"In… in one exchange…"
"No… that's impossible…"
Panic erupted.
Rowan did not hesitate.
Harukaze cut through the air again.
Splat.Splat.Splat.
Under crushing terror, more than a dozen pirates attempted to flee. But against Rowan's speed enhanced physical conditioning and mastery of Soru they had no hope.
Within moments, the room was painted red.
When the final pirate fell, Rowan lowered his blade.
Blood dripped from the edge of Harukaze onto the luxurious carpet below.
Only the Smanel underworld representatives remained.
The old man's composure barely held.
"Ghost Hand Rowan… your strength exceeds even the rumors. It is… an honor to witness it."
Rowan did not respond.
The silence stretched.
The old man swallowed.
"If you are willing, we would like to make an offer. Eliminate the Capone gang's underground network within the Smanel Kingdom. We will pay fifty million Berries."
Still, Rowan remained motionless.
From the Floro Pirates until now, he had annihilated five crews. Their collective spoils amounted to roughly twenty million Berries.
The Hundred Blades Pirates would yield more.
If he accepted this commission, his funds would approach eighty million.
Enough to commission a superior vessel.
The current ship taken from Floro was temporary. Serviceable, but not worthy of long-term ambitions.
Moreover
The Capone gang was not an unfamiliar name.
There was already friction between them.
Before Rowan could answer, rapid footsteps echoed from outside.
"Captain!"
Robin rushed in, her expression tense but controlled.
"The situation has changed. We're surrounded."
Rowan's gaze sharpened.
He stepped toward the window and lifted a corner of the curtain.
Outside, the street had transformed into a battlefield.
Hundreds of armed men blocked every exit. Firearms gleamed in the sunlight. Portable cannons were being positioned at street level.
This was no simple gang presence.
It was a siege.
Rowan's eyes moved across the formation and stopped.
At the front stood a young man with sharp features, a cigar clenched between his teeth.
Calm. Confident. Observing.
A familiar face from bounty posters.
One of the rising figures of the West Blue underworld.
Capone Bege.
The future "Gang" Capone Bege.
Rowan lowered the curtain slowly.
So.
The real hunt was about to begin.