"You long-eared, blue-skinned freak," Takuro's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight of absolute contempt. It was a cold, detached sound, as if he were looking down from a higher dimension. "Who the hell told you that I was a human?"
That single sentence hit like a clap of thunder. The dying Arlong's pupils contracted sharply in shock, while Madam Shyarly, paralyzed by her own sorrow, instantly forgot her tears. She looked up at the man in total astonishment. Even Gion, who had maintained a calm, observant demeanor, showed a flicker of surprise as she focused her gaze on Takuro.
The question hung in the air: He isn't human?
Arlong opened his mouth to retort, but between the sheer shock and his broken body, he could only manage a hoarse, wheezing sound. Takuro leaned down, bringing his face close to Arlong's. His eyes, which usually held a wild or playful glint, were now as cold and indifferent as deep space—a gaze no creature from Earth could possibly possess.
"Listen carefully, you piece of trash. I'm not a native of this planet," Takuro said, pointing a single finger toward the boundless starry sky above. "I am a Saiyan, a member of a warrior race from Planet Vegeta. We are the most elite warriors in the entire universe!"
"Sai... Saiyan?" Arlong repeated the term blankly. It was completely foreign to him, and his mind went void trying to process it. Madam Shyarly widened her eyes; in all her time staring into her crystal ball, such information had never once appeared.
"That's right, a Saiyan," Takuro said, straightening up with an all-encompassing arrogance. "We are born for the sole purpose of battle and conquest! Our power multiplies every time we fight, and we possess the might to destroy entire stars! Do you really think a few frogs in a well—who can't even leave their own planet—have the right to talk about racial superiority in front of me?"
With every word, Arlong's face grew paler. The concepts of the "universe," a "warrior race," and "destroying stars" were far beyond his comprehension. They shattered his pathetic worldview of Fish-Man supremacy into a million pieces.
"No... that's impossible... you're lying to me..." Arlong struggled weakly, his mind refusing to accept a reality where he was the inferior one.
"Lying to you?" Takuro let out a short, dry laugh, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. Suddenly, he lifted his foot, and a heart-pounding, terrifying aura erupted from his body. It was a Tier 3 level of pressure that far exceeded anything he had shown before.+2
This time, he didn't bother to restrain himself. The raw savagery and ferocity of his Ki seemed to solidify the very air inside the cafe. Madam Shyarly and Gion both felt a suffocating sense of oppression wash over them.+2
"Do you feel it now, trash?" Takuro's voice boomed like a physical blow within the space enveloped by his aura. "This is the Ki of a Saiyan! It is on a completely different dimension than you people, who get arrogant just because you're a little stronger in the water!" +2
The ground beneath his boots began to crack inch by inch. It wasn't because he was stepping down harder, but because the sheer weight of his invisible energy was crushing the coral pavement.
"I'm too lazy to explain the details to a native like you," Takuro said, finally reining in his aura, though the coldness in his eyes remained. "Your ridiculous racial pride is less than a fart to me! If you ever dare to insult me with that lowly term 'human' again, I won't hesitate to make your so-called 'superior race' completely disappear from this sea."
Takuro's arrogant declaration struck Arlong's fading consciousness like a sledgehammer. While he instinctively tried to reject the idea of space-faring warriors, his gaze caught something as Takuro turned to walk away.
As Takuro's cape fluttered in the breeze, Arlong saw it—a furry, brown tail with ring-like patterns hanging naturally behind him. It wasn't an ornament or a piece of clothing; it swayed with the rhythm of his steps like a living, connected part of his body.
Humans absolutely did not have tails.
A wave of absurdity and cognitive dissonance nearly suffocated Arlong. His all-out provocation, the brutal beating he had taken, and the humiliation of having his nose snapped off—was it all a joke? Had it all been based on the false premise that he was fighting a human?
He had taken this beating for nothing. An indescribable feeling of frustration and shame surged through him, briefly overriding the physical agony. But then, a stronger emotion took over: a deep, instinctive concern for the safety of his people.
If this man wasn't human, why was he here? A "warrior race" with such terrifying power coming to Fish-Man Island, ten thousand meters below the sea, couldn't just be here for sightseeing and a cup of coffee.
"Wait... wait!" Arlong used his last ounce of strength to shout hoarsely. His voice was distorted by urgency and his broken face.
Takuro's footsteps paused, and he turned his head with extreme impatience. "What now? Haven't you had enough of a beating yet?"
Arlong struggled to lift his head, ignoring the piercing pain in his nose. He stared intently at Takuro and demanded, "You... you're not human... then what exactly are you doing here on Fish-Man Island? Is a dangerous guy like you... trying to harm my people?"
It was the only thing that mattered to him now. His illusion of racial superiority was gone, but his instinct to protect his home remained. Hearing the question, Shyarly held her breath, looking nervously at Takuro.
Takuro turned around fully, his impatient expression fading into a look of cold assessment, as if he were checking the value of a piece of equipment. He glanced at the ruined cafe, then toward the shimmering Ryugu Palace in the distance, before his gaze returned to Arlong.
"What am I doing?" Takuro scoffed. "Whatever I set my eyes on naturally becomes mine. This island has a good location. Plus, you Fish-Men and Merfolk are stronger than ordinary humans and can move freely in the water. That makes you useful."
His tone was calm, yet he spoke words that could destabilize the entire world order.
"I'm here to take over. From now on, Fish-Man Island is under my protection. As for the rest of you..." A dark, ambitious smile curved his lips. "Those who obey me will become my underlings. Those who don't..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence. He simply let his cold gaze sweep over Arlong's miserable, broken body.
"IM—POS—SI—BLE!"
Arlong's roar was the wail of a dying beast, spraying blood and foam into the air. Takuro's claim to the island was like a lit match thrown into the final powder keg of Arlong's pride. The rage was so intense it seemed to temporarily suppress his pain and the collapse of his mind.
He used his one good arm to barely prop up his upper body. His bloodied face was twisted into a mask of insane determination as he glared at Takuro.
"The Fish-Man race... will never be slaves!"
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