The searing pain nearly shattered Jeet's consciousness.
He clenched his teeth hard, desperately trying not to pass out. But when he looked ahead, all he saw were the dazed faces of other contestants—just as bewildered as he was.
Kuro, who should've been standing right in front of him, had vanished without a trace.
"What the hell just happened?!"
"Was that... an ability user?!"
Panic gripped Jeet's heart.
This shouldn't be happening.
This was the so-called "weakest" East Blue—how could something like this happen here?!
"Is this a joke? Am I dreaming?"
He started to doubt everything—his surroundings, his memory, even his own senses. But the searing pain in his chest and abdomen told him that this was no illusion.
"No... it can't be—!"
Jeet opened his mouth to shout, but before he could speak, a flash of blinding light erupted before him.
Swish!
The same gruesome scene repeated itself.
A razor-sharp claw knife, moving faster than the eye could follow, sliced clean through one of Jeet's arms.
As blood sprayed into the air, a chill ran down the spines of everyone in the arena.
"It's him—Kuro of a Hundred Plans!"
Someone recognized him and cried out in alarm. But a second later, that very person was struck by a claw slash and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Is he attacking everyone indiscriminately?!"
"At this speed, how are we supposed to fight back?!"
"Damn it!"
"Damn it all!"
The curses came thick and fast, but no one could stop Kuro's relentless assault. One by one, contestants dropped like flies.
Abdulla—once arrogant and dismissive of the East Blue—rushed forward, grabbed Jeet's mutilated body, and leapt off the arena just in time to avoid further injury.
Only then did he realize how close he'd come to joining the rest—wounded and wailing in agony on the ground.
"This isn't a battle... it's a massacre."
"That man from East Blue... he's on a completely different level."
"He's way too strong!"
"Strong enough to take down every single fighter here by himself!"
In the stands, spectators stared wide-eyed as combatants fell one after another.
None of them had come expecting much from the East Blue representatives.
But now—after Gin, and now this ghost-like figure Kuro—their perception had been completely overturned. The pirates of East Blue had displayed a power that defied reason.
"If anyone says the East Blue is weak again, I'll shove Kuro's and Gin's bounty posters down their throat!"
"I thought the second round would be a brutal free-for-all... and yeah, it's brutal, but it's still completely one-sided!"
"Wait—someone's still standing!"
"It's him!"
"Daz Bonez! The killer from West Blue! That monster with a 75 million bounty!"
All eyes turned toward the center of the arena—where Daz Bonez remained upright, untouched, sparks crackling over his body.
"He turned his whole body into blades... he blocked Kuro's attacks?!"
"Monster!"
"They're both monsters!"
In just one minute, every other contestant had been taken out—except for Kuro and Daz Bonez.
Whoosh—!
A gust of wind signaled Kuro's reappearance in the center of the arena.
He flicked the blood off his claw knife with a cool, detached expression. His eyes locked on Daz Bonez.
"So your body's made of blades... a Devil Fruit user?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of Kuro's lips.
"Looks like I'll have to use a bit more strength next time. Otherwise, I can't even scratch steel."
With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing from view.
In the stands, a wave of deafening cheers erupted.
No one had expected this result—let alone the sheer speed with which it happened.
Only Daz Bonez remained still, staring at where Kuro had vanished, unease etched across his face.
Too fast.
That speed... it surpasses even the Navy's Six Powers techniques.
For the first time, Daz Bonez began to question whether he truly had a chance of winning.
Even with his Dice-Dice Fruit abilities. Even with a body tempered through endless battles. Even with a killer's ruthless instincts.
Against that kind of speed...
He had no room to counterattack!
Meanwhile — Alabasta, Grand Line
In a small desert town, a brutal sandstorm raged.
Countless grains of sand whipped through the air, moving fast enough to slice flesh and flay skin.
Civilians ran in panic, ducking into the nearest buildings. Some tripped and were immediately pelted by the sand, bleeding from exposed skin.
This storm had come without warning—and was far more intense than anything before.
But in a castle overlooking the chaos, Crocodile sat unmoved.
He ignored the howling wind and the grit clouding the windows. His gaze remained fixed on the glowing screen of a Den Den Mushi projector.
Whoosh!
A puff of smoke curled from his cigar.
Crocodile frowned.
"Mr. 1 might stand a chance against that Gin…"
"But against this Kuro guy—there's no hope."
He leaned back, a storm of thoughts swirling behind narrowed eyes.
"Looks like we won't be getting that fruit through normal means after all."
A slow, cold smile crept onto his face.
"Time to take... less conventional methods."
Crocodile's eyes fell on the tall woman beside him, the one in a felt hat, and he spoke calmly:
"Miss All Sunday, aside from Mr. 1, who else is in the East Blue?"
"That area isn't part of our usual operations, and there aren't many noteworthy individuals there... but there is one who fits our current needs."
"Who?"
"Bon... No, Mr. 2."
"Perfect."
Crocodile nodded with a faint smile.
"His strength is secondary. What matters is his ability—perfect for infiltration."
"Have him move. I want that fruit secured before the martial arts tournament ends."
The tall woman nodded.
"Understood."
"Once that's done," Crocodile continued, "we can accelerate our plans in Alabasta without worrying about the World Government's gaze."
Then, turning to face her, he added coldly:
"Don't forget your value, Nico Robin."
"I won't," she replied firmly.
East Blue – Raven Harbor
A corner of the local casino was packed with onlookers. At the center of the attention was Issho, calmly seated at a gambling table. Since early afternoon, he'd been on an unstoppable winning streak, having already won tens of millions of Berries.
The casino owner sat nearby, his face green with regret. The amount lost in just a few hours had already wiped out a month's worth of profit.
A rough-looking man, clearly one of the hired thugs, leaned toward the boss, his eyes glinting with cruelty.
"Boss... What if we just..."
He ran a finger across his neck in a clear gesture.
The boss merely glanced at him, a smile spreading across his face.
"Who let you in?"
"Brother Tony brought me," the man answered, grinning slyly.
"Good. Then both of you can start looking for new jobs."
The boss's smile vanished. His expression turned cold as he grabbed the thug by the head.
"Have you forgotten the rules Captain Gawain laid down?!"
"If you're willing to gamble, you must be willing to lose. This is a legitimate business. They're not cheating—winning takes skill!"
"If you can't afford to lose, don't open a casino!"
With a wave of his hand, several other casino thugs moved in. They dragged the man away despite his desperate cries and pleading.
As his screams faded into the distance, the boss turned back toward the gambling table, pain etched across his face. Then, unexpectedly, Issho stood up with a smile.
"Let's stop here," he said. "I'm satisfied."
He handed his chips to the dealer to be exchanged for cash, which was then placed in a suitcase.
Once the transaction was complete, Issho turned to leave.
The casino owner's eyes lit up—finally, the storm was passing. Instinctively, he called out:
"Leaving so soon? How about one more game?"
"One more?"
Caught off guard, the boss quickly shifted tactics. With the mindset that other casinos losing meant his wasn't, he leaned in and whispered:
"I'll give you a million if you head across the street. That place is bigger. You could win even more there."
Issho chuckled, pulled a stack of cash from the case, stuffed it into his coat, and tossed the rest of the suitcase at the boss.
"Consider that your tip."
Then he added, almost absently:
"I'm curious about this Knight Gawain. A pirate crew whose subordinates follow such rules...?"
The casino owner's expression darkened instantly. Not just him—many of the gamblers at the table also set down their chips and turned to face Issho.
"Lord Gawain is not a pirate!"
"He saved this port—twice! Without him, we'd all be dead. He's a hero!"
"If you're here to make trouble for him, you'll have to go through us!"
"Damn right!"
The crowd's voices grew louder, the room brimming with energy.
Issho stood at the center of it all, utterly calm. But within, he was deeply moved.
Though blind, his perception was razor-sharp, honed by years of relying on observation Haki to supplement his other senses. And in this moment, what he perceived around him was overwhelming.
He saw red—not from anger, but the bright, burning red of passion and gratitude.
The emotions in this crowd were sincere, reverent, and protective.
"Oh~"
Issho couldn't help but smile. He had traveled from the Grand Line, seen the world, witnessed suffering under tyrannical rulers and corrupt kingdoms.
But never—never—had he seen a place like Raven Harbor, where civilians revered the pirate who ruled them not out of fear, but love.
"Seems I was wrong..."
"A man they protect like this can't be a bad person..."