Patrick Redfield stepped through the doorway as if he were returning home, the sound of his polished boots creaking against the floorboards echoing in the room.
With his crimson eyes scanning the surroundings, he leaned his closed umbrella against his shoulder, taking in the handmade toys, vibrant paintings, and intricate sculptures.
He didn't even flinch as Trans Town began to glitch around him—villagers morphing into swirling streaks of paint, houses collapsing into rough ink outlines, the entire illusion unraveling under the weight of his absurd, monstrous Haki that was literally fracturing the reality of the island.
"I must say," Redfield murmured, his crimson gaze sweeping over the scene, "your welcome leaves much to be desired."
Ivankov dropped into a low, menacing fighting stance.
"Patrick Redfield..." Ivankov growled, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "The Lonely Red. The beast who took on Roger and Whitebeard all on his own. No crew. No fleet."
Ragetti blinked his wooden eye in disbelief. "He doesn't seem that scary. Just looks like an old man with a thing for young boys."
Redfield shot him a glance, his eye twitching for a moment before settling back into a calm demeanor.
Ragetti quickly backpedaled, panic setting in. "I mean, he looks really bad! Terrible! I regret even looking at him!"
"How did you get here?!" Ivankov demanded, raising his hands to shield his face from that ominous umbrella. "Fleet Admiral Kong locked you away in the deepest part of Impel Down!"
"I walked out," Redfield replied nonchalantly. "There was a... disturbance. Just enough for me to slip away."
Pintel gulped hard.
The man had literally strolled out of that underwater nightmare as if it were just a minor inconvenience.
But Redfield wasn't concerned with their shock; he was here for the whispers—a misty island, memories brought to life, and the legendary Batto Batto no Mi, Model: Vampire—a Devil Fruit said to steal youth and grant eternal life.
"First the bird, now this bizarre town. The island certainly lives up to the tales," Redfield remarked.
"Pato?" Red gasped, quickly regaining his composure.
But it was already too late.
Redfield narrowed his eyes into slits, a look of realization washing over him.
"So, you know the bird," he said, piecing it together. "The sniper I faced earlier... Van Augur... was just a minor hurdle. You're Pato's master."
"Wait, you actually took down Augur?!" Ragetti exclaimed, his disbelief evident.
"He wouldn't back down," Redfield replied coolly. "So I ended him."
"Augur can't just die like that!" Ragetti shouted, struggling to accept it.
Pintel quickly stepped in front of Red. "That's enough from you, buddy! Don't spread lies! This is Red's territory! You can't just waltz in here demanding his stuff!"
Ivankov stared at Pintel, baffled. Is this guy really trying to lecture a legendary pirate?!
"I'm not here for a lesson in etiquette," Redfield sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Hand over the Fruit."
"We don't have it!" Ivankov shot back.
"I... I don't know where it is," Red stammered, visibly shaken.
Redfield picked up on the hesitation right away. After decades of battling the most dangerous scum on the seas, spotting a lie was second nature. "That's unfortunate. The truth rarely comes out willingly... I guess I'll have to extract it from you."
FOOM!
"NORO NORO BEAM!"
Pintel thrust his hands forward, unleashing a ringed halo of pale light that slammed into Redfield's chest. The legendary pirate froze—or rather, he s-l-o-w-e-d down.
"Ha! Gotcha, you old creep!" Pintel beamed.
But Redfield's crimson eyes slowly, ominously turned toward Pintel. Even under the effects of the Slow-Slow Fruit, he swung his umbrella.
BOOM!
The sheer force of the air pressure blasted through the living room, shattering the back wall into splinters and sending Ivankov tumbling!
"He's moving inside the beam?!" Pintel shrieked, his eyes bulging like cannonballs. "THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Out! Get him OUTSIDE!" Ragetti bellowed, seizing a massive wooden sculpture and charging at Redfield like a bull on a rampage.
He slammed the art piece against Redfield's defenses, yanked the legend by his coat, and dug his boots into the floorboards, sending both of them crashing straight through the front wall!
CRASH!
They landed in the street just as Trans Town crumbled away. The fake villagers disintegrated into dust, the vibrant market stalls decayed into rusted frames, and the once-bright sky morphed into a grim, fog-choked wasteland.
"Red! Grab Gibbs and RUN!" Pintel shouted, firing another Noro Noro Beam to keep Redfield at bay.
Without a moment's hesitation, Red scooped up the unconscious Gibbs with surprising strength, the shifting ink of his canvas doors conjuring a dozen fake corridors to throw the pirate off.
Redfield activated his high-tier Observation Haki, trying to lock onto Red's signature—but with the illusion walls shifting and Pintel's annoying beam, the old man vanished into the mist.
Standing in the ruined street, Redfield dusted off his pristine crimson coat. The calm look on his face somehow felt a hundred times more terrifying than a roaring dragon.
"This is the second time today I've lost my target," Redfield murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "First the sniper. Now the painter."
He leaned his umbrella against his shoulder, his eyes glowing like hot coals in the fog.
"It's starting to make me angry."
ZAP!
He vanished.
"DOWN!" Ivankov screamed.
Ragetti ducked purely on instinct. FOOSH! The shockwave from Redfield's umbrella sliced through the empty space where Ragetti's neck had just been, cleaving three distant stone buildings in half. They toppled off their foundations and crashed into the dirt!
"HE DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH THEM!" Ragetti yelled, horrified.
"He's reading your mind with Observation Haki!" Ivankov shouted, blood trickling down his forehead. "He knows what you're going to do before you even think it!"
Pintel readied his fingers again. "Then I won't give him a moment to think!"
The umbrella slammed hard against Pintel's ribs, the sound echoing like a cannon blast. Pintel was sent flying through two stone walls, landing in a heap of rubble with his legs sticking out like shattered twigs.
"PINTEL!" Ragetti shouted, panic in his voice.
Redfield turned his icy, blood-stained gaze toward Ragetti and Ivankov.
Ivankov wiped the blood from his cheek, dropping his usual dramatic flair. His eyes narrowed in focus. "He's reading our thoughts. He knows our intentions. If we plan to attack, he's already one step ahead."
"Then how the hell do we hit him?!" Ragetti yelled, his hands trembling as he pulled out his cutlass.
"Simple," Ivankov growled, his body coiling like a spring ready to snap. "We don't think. We don't plan. The moment you move—that's when you decide! Trust your gut."
Ragetti swallowed hard. "That sounds ridiculously...easy! We don't think before we attack anyway."
"MOVE, YOU IDIOT!"
From the rubble, Pintel's battered hand shot up, sending one last desperate, wild flare into the sky.
Redfield's eyes darted toward the noise for just a split second—and in that fleeting moment, Ivankov and Ragetti charged forward with a fierce roar!