A single sentence, spoken from within the cloud of dust, sent a chill down the spines of the dozen men, freezing them in place.
"I want to know what you were trying to take from the treasury. A piece of advice: the first one to answer can leave here alive."
No one dared to doubt the weight of his words. They were not ignorant of the man known as Wilder; he was more than capable of making good on his promise. Killing them would be all too easy.
No one wanted to die. Two seconds after Wilder finished speaking, one of the men in black reacted, his face a mask of desperation. "We were just—"
Before he could finish, a series of violent explosions ripped through the air from a distant part of the city. A pillar of thick smoke and a towering inferno rose into the sky in that direction.
In an instant, the words died on the man's lips. Every one of them froze, staring dumbly at the fiery sky.
Hearing the blasts and seeing the raging fire, the faces of the men in black paled, drained of all color. The man who had been about to speak was now rigid with shock.
The distant flames cast an unreadable, flickering light across Wilder's face. He remained expressionless, but the aura around him surged like a volcano on the verge of eruption—a power held in check, which only made it all the more unsettling.
Staring at the place where the fire raged, Wilder could almost hear the screams and cries of civilians. He turned his head, and without another word, began walking toward the dozen men in black.
"No!"
"I'll talk! We didn't want to take any—"
"Aargh!"
Under the firelight, a dozen dull thuds echoed. All that remained were bodies on the ground, each one impaled by a sharp spear of swamp. Blood flowed freely, soaking into the dry earth and vanishing.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A series of muffled sonic booms tore through the air as a figure shot across the sky, coming to a halt over the source of the fire and smoke.
Wilder looked down at the scene of devastation—at the smoke, the flames, the collapsed houses, the blood, and the mangled bodies of people blasted to pieces on the road. Beneath his calm expression, something was churning.
Crack… The faint sound of his tightly clenched fists was barely audible.
His gaze shot in a specific direction, and without a word, he vanished.
At another coast…
On a ship pulling away from the shore, wild, cackling laughter erupted. Wisps of smoke still curled from the cannon muzzles at the stern. Several men in black looked back at the receding coastline, their faces alight with triumphant smiles.
"Hahaha! I bet he never saw that coming! Those guys were just bait sent to die. Why would we do something as dangerous as attacking the treasury? Arson and murder, now that's what we enjoy!"
"That's right! Hey, hey… he must be super pissed right now, right? That idiot, Wilder… A guy like that, no, no, an idiot king like that must be furious watching his own people die in a cannonade, right?"
"Hahaha! Then he'll definitely chase after us with everything he's got, won't he? We'd better get a move on! It'll be bad if he catches up!"
"You said it, hahaha!"
Though they spoke of running, their faces showed not a hint of fear. On the contrary, they looked back at the increasingly blurry and minuscule coastline with unbridled arrogance, their faces filled with the pure joy of success.
In stark contrast, Wilder's face was a featureless mask. Every time his foot stomped on the air, it was as if he used his full strength, unleashing a deep, powerful sonic boom. He shot across the surface of the sea, chasing the ship that had long since disappeared from sight!
At the same time, Claire, having escorted Ivankov and the others to the palace, received Wilder's message and was already rushing to the site of the bombardment.
"Hahaha! Look, you guys, here he comes!" Ten minutes later, the men on the ship spotted a tiny black dot speeding toward them from the sky and let out a depraved laugh.
"Look, he's running out of steam! He's starting to descend! Hahaha! And even if he had the energy, so what? This is a specially modified power vessel! The moment he gets close, we'll kick it into full speed. He'll never catch us! Gyahahaha!"
Just as they spotted Wilder, he too had locked onto their ship. However, the distance between them was still vast; to Wilder, the vessel was nothing more than a slightly larger black dot.
After a period of chasing at full speed, Wilder could already feel his legs going numb. Left with no choice, he summoned a small boat and continued the pursuit across the water.
…
Half a day later, the enemy ship was once again a faint silhouette on the horizon. Wilder dismissed his boat and resumed his full-speed chase. A short while later, he lost sight of his target again.
Fortunately, he had a rough idea of their direction.
He alternated between his boat and Moon Walk several times. By the time night fell, the sea was a pitch-black expanse, with only the moonlight glinting off the waves like silver scales.
Darkness surrounded him, the only sound the rolling of the waves. He scanned the horizon, but there was nothing but an empty sea.
Wilder's fury was suppressed to its absolute limit, his face as dark as a storm cloud, as cold as frost.
The sea breeze carried with it the faint, distant sounds of clanging metal, of loud laughter and shouting. In the darkness ahead, the vague outline of an island emerged, dotted with pinpricks of firelight that stood out against the black.
Wilder dismissed his boat, the corner of his mouth pulling down into an arc of absolute coldness. He could already see the ship he had been chasing all day docked at the pier.
So… they don't even care about being found.
Silent and expressionless, Wilder stepped onto the island from an empty stretch of coast.
The clanging of iron and the boisterous shouts grew clearer.
At the dilapidated, crooked entrance to a small town, Wilder's gaze fell forward. He slowed his pace, taking in the scene before him, his eyes remaining flat and indifferent from start to finish.
A broken Marine flag was thrust sideways into the eaves of a building at the intersection. On a crooked, decaying gate, the two characters for "Lawless" were brazenly painted.
Inside the gate, a whip stained blackish-red with dried blood lashed across the backs of civilians forced into labor. Their expressions were numb; they didn't even cry out, only continuing to drag a massive, unmoving log.
In contrast, the man wielding the whip had a look of pure ecstasy. He swung the whip with even more vigor, and after just a few lashes, the laborer's back was a mess of torn flesh.
The civilian collapsed forward, motionless. The whip-wielder spat on him, his eyes filled with utter disgust as he cursed, "Dead already? Fucking useless." He then moved on to the next living civilian and began swinging his whip again.
This was an island known as a malignant tumor, a place teeming with the most vicious criminals, called by some the second Impel Down. The people who lived here were twisted demons who truly held no value for life.
Of course, Wilder didn't know this, nor did he care to. He only saw the man with the whip notice him and swagger over with malicious intent. "Hey, who are you? I haven't seen you before. An outsider?"
Squelch—
The only answer he received was a pair of eyes devoid of any emotion, and the sound of flesh being pierced.
Blood splattered through the air. Wilder expressionlessly withdrew his hand, wiped the blood on the man's clothes, and pushed the body aside as if it were an inanimate object.
The man's eyes were wide as he fell, the warmth rapidly leaving his body.
Tap, tap, tap…
As Wilder passed through the town gate, his face was cast in the flickering, indistinct lamplight from the houses on either side.
A mob of men rushed out from the various streets, surrounding Wilder and glaring at him menacingly. They had clearly witnessed the murder.
"Kill him!" a man who looked like a minor leader spat out the malicious command. At his word, a dozen of his underlings moved, swinging sharp blades and swords at Wilder from all sides.
Wilder didn't break his stride, as if he hadn't even seen the men blocking his path or the weapons swinging toward him. His expression didn't change. He casually raised a hand, and a sharp spike shot out from his palm. It moved like a bolt of lightning, carrying immense force. A thug leaping at him from the right was instantly pierced through. The powerful momentum carried him backward until, with a dull thud, he was pinned to the wall of a wooden house.
Thwip!
Another spike flew out. A thug rushing from the left had his head punched clean through, creating a massive hole. He stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing face-first onto the ground.
The remaining thugs were fearless. The ease with which two of their own had been killed had no psychological effect on them. Seeing this, Wilder simply stopped walking. As they all lunged at him at once, viscous, swampy portals suddenly opened up all over his body.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Like a volley of a thousand arrows, dozens of sharp spikes shot out from all over Wilder's body. Blood sprayed and splattered, blooming in the air like garish, crimson flowers. Accompanied by a series of dull thuds, bodies dropped to the ground one by one.
Click.
Wilder lit a cigarette and continued walking forward.
In the distance, the commotion had attracted many more thugs, who now swarmed toward his location. In the blink of an eye, the streets in every direction were filled with vicious men armed with swords and guns.
His Observation Haki seemed to penetrate the walls of a brightly lit courtyard on the left side of the street, revealing the scene inside. Several men in black were sitting around, drinking and laughing. Their auras were identical to those of the men on the ship he had pursued.
"Hahaha! That guy must be exhausted, chasing us for so long."
"Maybe he got tired and died at sea for all we know."
"Tsehehehe!"
BOOM!
The door was violently kicked off its hinges. The smiles on the faces of the men in black froze. They turned to look at the entrance.
The single point of a lit cigarette glowed and faded in the darkness. Wilder walked in without a word.
His silent face showed no emotional fluctuation, but the icy coldness emanating from him had already begun to fill the room.
Before he even fully entered, swamp began to drip from his body.
The men in black were stunned for a moment, then broke into wide, mocking grins.
"Hahaha! Isn't this that idiot king? I can't believe you found us so quickly. What's wrong? Are you here to kill us?"
"Come on, then! We're sitting right here! Hurry up and kill us! I can't wait to be killed! I promise I won't even fight back. Of course, not that it would matter if I did, hahaha!"
Squelch!
Squelch!
Squelch!
With several dull sounds, the laughter stopped abruptly. The men in black slumped over, their bodies twitching a few times before falling still. Each of them had an average of five spikes piercing them through.
The stench of blood instantly filled the room. At that moment, the cigarette burned down to its filter. Wilder looked at the corpses, his eyes without a ripple, as calm as a pool of dead water.
A detached voice echoed in the room.
"First, you arrange for a dozen pieces of trash to attack the treasury, then you use a few death-seekers to lead me on a chase. Are you not planning to show yourself… the one behind all this?"
As his voice fell, the dense, rustling sound of footsteps came from all around. Wilder turned to look outside. The entire courtyard, including the street beyond, was now surrounded by a black mass of people.
On the surrounding rooftops, dozens of burly men were positioned in every direction, aiming cannons down at the courtyard—more specifically, at Wilder inside the house.
Tssss…
A sound like pressurized machinery activating echoed, accompanied by a series of clicks and rumbles. Wilder frowned, realizing that within the room he occupied, tall walls of an unidentifiable material—metal or something else—were rising up from the floor. The four walls, the floor, and the ceiling were all being sealed off by this material, leaving only the empty doorframe he had just kicked in, which faced the courtyard gate and the street beyond.
From the end of the street came the sound of exaggerated footsteps. A man with a triangle tattoo under his eye approached. He wore a flamboyant smile and stopped just outside the courtyard, staring at Wilder through the two open doorways.
After a moment, the tattooed man's eyes widened, his face filled with excitement.
"Tsehehehe! So you're the target. And here I thought the great schemer Wilder, a man compared to Crocodile himself, was supposed to be clever. Turns out you're just another hothead who lets his emotions get the best of him. Luring you here was so easy, it makes all my backup plans feel like a waste."
After laughing, he stretched out a hand as if to shake Wilder's from across the distance. His smile turned sinister, and his voice dropped low. "Well then… thank you for coming, Lucifer—Wilder. That head of yours has a one-billion-belly price on it in the underworld. And tonight, it's mine."
In a hidden corner, a young man dressed as a civilian trembled as he recorded the entire scene with a Video Den Den Mushi.
As a Marine who had been undercover here for many years, he had a gut feeling that tonight's events were about to spiral into something huge… something that might even compromise his entire mission.
He peered through a crack, looking at the man in the house, then at the tattooed man. His pupils dilated, and he swallowed hard. "Warlord of the Sea, Wilder… and the underground bounty hunter, Peale, the boss of Lawless Island. The man who once hunted down a pirate with a 500-million-belly bounty… He wants to… take Wilder's head right here?!"
"This is a major incident! I have to get this report to HQ!" The young man's face was slick with nervous sweat as he secretly recorded everything.
Just then, a massive explosion roared to life. The courtyard where Wilder was trapped erupted in a pillar of fire!
The young Marine agent could only stare, his eyes wide and vacant, at the unfolding catastrophe.