The Terror of the Pirates

"Aaron... will slaughter you humans..."

Those were the last words Sam, the fishman, tried to utter before his life slipped away.

If Alex (formerly Mod) had heard them clearly, he might have laughed. But the mention of Aaron—leader of the Evil Dragon Pirates—caught him off guard.

The Evil Dragon Pirates were active in the East Sea, while this was the West Sea.

Did Sam get lost on his way to join Aaron and end up here?

Alex shook his head, dismissing the thought.

At that moment, he felt a subtle change in his body—a faint tremor, followed by a surge of strength.

He rolled up his sleeve, examining his arm. The muscles, though still lean, had become more defined.

"Just a few lines of information, and I get this much of a boost?"

Alex was surprised. He glanced at Sam's lifeless body, a mix of respect and satisfaction in his eyes.

Sam had been a formidable opponent, fighting his way through a crowd with sheer physical strength and an iron grip. Despite his injuries, he'd managed to keep going until the very end.

If Alex hadn't anticipated Sam's final charge and prepared accordingly, the outcome might have been different.

"If this guy had learned Fishman Karate or some combat techniques, he'd have been a nightmare to deal with," Alex muttered.

He picked up [Usopp], the long-barreled rifle he'd discarded earlier. Throwing it had been a calculated move, meant to lull Sam into a false sense of security.

In hindsight, it had been unnecessary. Sam's determination had been impressive, but fate had already sealed his end.

Even if Alex hadn't shot him, Sam's injuries would have eventually done him in.

But why take chances?

Alex preferred the safer option.

As he left the alleyway, Alex's thoughts drifted to the Evil Dragon Pirates and the potential gains from hunting more fishmen.

The idea was tempting, but for now, it was just a thought.

The Evil Dragon Pirates were far away in the East Sea, and Alex wasn't strong enough to take them on yet.

Still, the rewards from hunting a fishman like Sam were undeniable.

"If I could find more fishmen of his caliber..."

But where?

The Fishman Island deep beneath the sea was one possibility, as were the Shambaldi Islands, known for their fishman slave trade.

The problem was, by the time Alex was strong enough to reach those places, he might not even need the boosts they offered.

On his way back to the weapon store, Alex deliberately avoided the lit streets, opting for the shadows. Unfortunately, he got lost and had to navigate by rooftop.

When he finally reached the store, he slipped inside and made his way to the restroom.

In the darkness, he removed his mask and armband, placing them on the sink. He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face.

The disguise had served its purpose, but it was time to dispose of it. If he needed another, he'd create a new one.

As he dried his face, Alex stared at his reflection in the mirror.

His physique was improving steadily, and now he began to consider the second requirement for his Hunter's Notes.

Swordsmanship or martial arts?

The question lingered in his mind.

If he chose martial arts, he'd need to master the Navy's Six Styles—Shave, Iron Body, Paper Art, Moon Walk, Tempest Kick, and Finger Gun.

If he chose swordsmanship, he could fill the Cold Weapon requirement more easily, drawing inspiration from legendary swordsmen like Zoro and Mihawk.

But there was a catch.

Each new requirement would dilute the experience gains. If he added a second physical-based requirement, the benefits would be spread thinner.

Alternatively, he could fill the requirement with something like talent, but that was too vague and risky.

Alex knew he was leaning toward swordsmanship. A blade was simply more versatile than fists.

But with only a few requirement slots available, he had to choose carefully.

As he pondered, the bathroom light flicked on.

Alex blinked, his reflection replaced by Sonnie's figure in the mirror.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, turning to face her.

Sonnie shook her head. "I wasn't sleeping."

"It's this late, and you're still awake?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

Sonnie didn't respond immediately. Instead, her gaze fell on the mask and armband on the sink.

Alex stepped sideways, blocking her view.

"You're up this late... were you waiting for me?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes," Sonnie replied bluntly.

Alex blinked, caught off guard by her honesty.

"Oh? Could it be you've fallen for me?" he joked.

Sonnie gave him a flat look, then turned and walked toward the kitchen.

"I'm hungry. Make something to eat. And make an extra portion—Saul might be back soon."

Alex chuckled. "Go ahead. I'll join you in a bit."

He waited until she was gone before gathering the mask and armband, planning to stash them in his room.

Meanwhile, at the Mad Hatter Auction House, the chaos had subsided.

The black smoke had cleared, revealing a scene of destruction.

Bandit Becky, surrounded by his henchmen, held a half-eaten Devil Fruit in his hand. His face twisted in disgust at the fruit's vile taste.

At his feet lay a middle-aged man, riddled with bullet wounds.

"Becky..." the man gasped, his voice filled with hatred. "A bootlegger like you..."

Becky coldly stared down at him, swallowing the last bite of the Devil Fruit.