Jaya Island – Mock Town
Zoro and Alvida strolled through the dusty streets of Mock Town, having already scoped out the docks and harbor area. The town was loud and lively, filled with rough-looking pirates, laughter, and the clinking of mugs. It reeked of booze and chaos—just the kind of place Zoro didn't mind.
As they walked, Zoro's eye caught a sign above a wooden shop: Old Grog's Tavern & Liquor Shop." His gaze sharpened.
"That looks promising," he muttered, then veered off without waiting. Alvida sighed and followed.
Inside, the scent of strong liquor hit them immediately. Rows of bottles lined the walls, and behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with a toothy grin and an eye for eager customers.
"Welcome, travelers!" the shopkeeper said brightly. "Looking for something to drink?"
Zoro gave a small nod. "What's your best brew?"
"Oho, going straight for the good stuff, huh?" The shopkeeper chuckled and reached beneath the counter. He brought out a gourd-shaped bottle. "This here is Mock Town's pride—locally brewed ale. Strong, smooth, and famous for knocking out seasoned pirates."
He poured two small samples into wooden cups and handed them over.
Zoro took a sip, then raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Not bad at all."
Alvida tried it too. "It's got a nice kick," she admitted.
"Right?" the shopkeeper grinned. "Told you."
"I'll take two gourds," Zoro said without hesitation.
"Coming right up."
As the man wrapped the bottles, Zoro leaned on the counter. "Say, got any interesting rumors floating around town?"
"Rumors?" The shopkeeper glanced up. "Depends. What kind are you looking for?"
"Sky Island," Zoro said plainly.
The man nearly snorted. "Sky Island, huh? That old tale's still making the rounds?"
Zoro's brow twitched. "Just tell me what you know."
The shopkeeper shook his head with a smirk. "You must be new here. Everyone who comes through this town hears about the 'island in the sky.' The story comes from a man named Mont Blanc Noland. He claimed to have seen a city of gold in the sky. But no one believed him. They even called him 'Noland the Liar.'"
He ducked behind the counter and rummaged for something.
Alvida glanced at Zoro, mildly amused. "Seems like the story's well-known around here."
A moment later, the shopkeeper returned with a slim, weathered book. He dropped it on the counter.
"Here. A copy of Noland the Liar. It's free. Everyone around here has read it at least once."
Zoro picked it up and eyed the cover. The illustration showed a man pointing dramatically at the clouds while a crowd laughed behind him.
"Hmph. Liar or not, people don't make up falling warships."
He tucked the book under his arm, gave a nod of thanks, and walked out of the shop with Alvida beside him.
The shopkeeper scratched his head, watching them go.
...
Elsewhere on Jaya Island
Galdino and Marianne strolled through a bustling street filled with shouting vendors, drunken pirates, and shady-looking dealers. The sun was beginning to lower, casting long shadows along the path as laughter and conversation filled the air.
Unlike the others, Galdino wasn't here to browse or bargain—he was here to listen. His ears perked up as he caught snippets of a loud conversation between a group of rough-looking pirates near a street-side stall.
"Hey, you heard about the Saruyama Alliance?" one pirate asked, leaning over a crate of fruits as he bit into a mango.
"Those monkeys?" another snorted. "Of course I have. They're the most well-known ship salvagers around here. Real wild bunch, but they get the job done."
"They're camped out on the far side of the island, right?" a third chimed in.
"Yeah," the first one nodded. "I heard they're staying with some guy named Mont Blanc."
"Mont Blanc?" one of the pirates blinked. "That name sounds familiar… wait, isn't that the same surname as that so-called 'legendary liar'?"
"Exactly!" another laughed, slapping his knee. "Mont Blanc Noland. The fool who claimed there was a golden city in the sky. What a joke."
"Apparently, this guy is his descendant," the first pirate added, voice dropping to a mock-sympathetic tone. "Imagine carrying that kind of legacy. A bloodline cursed with delusion."
The group broke into a round of laughter, their cackles echoing down the alley.
Galdino slowed his steps, exchanging a glance with Marianne. She raised an eyebrow. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.
"Every word," Galdino replied in a low tone. "Mont Blanc… so the descendant really lives here."
"They said the Saruyama Alliance is staying with him." Marianne looked thoughtful. "Could be worth checking out."
"They also called Noland a liar," Galdino muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "But I've seen too much on this journey to dismiss stories so quickly."
Marianne smiled faintly. "Maybe the sky island is real after all. And if the descendant's still chasing it, that might be our lead."
Galdino looked ahead, silent for a moment. "If warships are falling from the sky, and eternal poses are pointing upward, then the so-called 'lies' might just be truths no one was ready to hear."
They kept walking, blending with the crowd while keeping an ear out for more useful tidbits. Pirates pushed past them, shouting drunkenly about bounties, tavern brawls, and stolen treasure. But none of it mattered more than that one name: Mont Blanc.
As they reached the quieter part of the district, Galdino glanced over at Marianne. "Let's report this back to the Captain. If there's anyone who knows how to reach the sky island… it might be that man."
Marianne nodded. "And if the Saruyama Alliance really is connected, we'll need to find them too."
Without another word, they turned back toward the direction of the ship, slipping away from the noise and chaos of the street. The laughter of the pirates faded behind them, but the memory of their words lingered.
Galdino looked up at the sky, where streaks of orange painted the clouds. "A city in the sky... huh? Let's see if Noland was really a liar."
...
Back in Front of the Gambling Pub – Mock Town
A large crowd had gathered outside the gambling pub, their voices buzzing with excitement and tension. Pirates, thugs, and drunks from all corners of the town surrounded the street, eager to see how the fight would unfold. Among them stood Sarquiss, Bellamy's trusted right-hand man, and several members of the New Witch's Tongue crew, all watching closely.
Gin dusted off his clothes, rolling his shoulder as he stood tall. His eyes were sharp and focused. He pointed at Bellamy with a crooked finger and smirked.
"Come on then. Let me return the favor and bash your skull in."
Bellamy tilted his head, his grin widening with scorn. "Big talk. Let's see if you've got the strength to back it up."
Without warning, Bellamy launched himself forward, his legs coiling like springs. But instead of charging Gin head-on, he rebounded off a nearby building—then another, and another. Each bounce increased his speed and force, blurring his movement until he became a streaking shadow zipping through the air.
"Let's see how you handle this!"
"Spring Snipe!"
Boom!
Gin barely had time to react before Bellamy's fist slammed into his side. The impact sent him sliding across the ground, scraping against the cobblestones.
"Ughk..."
The crowd gasped.
"Here it comes!" Bellamy's voice echoed ominously around the buildings.
"Triple Spring Snipe!"
Three strikes landed in rapid succession—one to Gin's back, another to his gut, and the last to his face. He stumbled, groaning, but he clenched his teeth in fury, the pain fueling his focus.
"You done bouncing around like a flea?" Gin spat blood and rose with narrowed eyes. "You're not the only one who can strike fast!"
He lashed out with a heavy punch, but Bellamy easily sprang away, laughing. "You're too slow!"
The barrage continued—Bellamy ricocheted off walls, barrels, and rooftops, delivering rapid-fire punches from impossible angles. Gin tried to keep up, but the relentless pace was overwhelming. Blow after blow rained down. His body ached, his legs trembled, and soon, he dropped to one knee.
The crowd murmured, some starting to cheer for Bellamy.
"This all you've got?" Bellamy sneered, crouching for the final blow. "Let's finish this!"
With a violent spring, he hurled toward Gin like a bullet.
"Spring Snipe – Execution!"
But just as the punch landed—
"Shigan!"
Bang!
Thud!
Gin's body jerked from the punch to his stomach—but his finger had already pierced forward with deadly speed and precision, stabbing Bellamy in the chest.
"Guh—!" Gin coughed out blood, but held his ground.
Bellamy's eyes widened in shock. "Gahk!" He gasped, a spurt of blood bursting from his mouth as he staggered backward, hand pressed against the searing pain in his chest.
The crowd fell into stunned silence.
"He... countered him."
"What did he do?!"
"He just jabbed Bellamy."
"Look! Bellamy is injured."
"That guy is injured too."
Mutters rippled through the spectators, who couldn't reconcile the sight of the heavily injured Bellamy with their expectations.
Gin wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His vision was blurring, blood trickling from his lips, but he kept his focus sharp. He reached behind him and pulled out both of his tonfa with a click.
"That's enough of a beating from you," he muttered, standing straighter. "I think I understand now."
Bellamy, still breathing heavily from the last exchange, narrowed his eyes. He winced as pain throbbed through his chest, but his cocky grin hadn't fully disappeared. "Understand what? You think this is over?"
Without waiting for an answer, he bent his knees and launched himself again—bouncing off the wall of a nearby building, ricocheting with speed.
But Gin didn't flinch.
He took a slow, steady breath, closing his eyes briefly. "You're not the only one… who can move fast."
He shifted his stance, channeling all his strength to his legs.
"Soru."
FWISH!
In an instant, he vanished from the spot.
The crowd gasped in shock—again, Gin had disappeared like a blur of wind.
Bellamy, mid-flight and ready to strike again, didn't even see it coming.
"Spiral Shigan."
BAM!!
From above, Gin dropped like a hammer—his tonfa spinning in a tight, violent spiral as he slammed it square into Bellamy's back. The impact was brutal, like a piledriver from the sky.
Bellamy was smashed into the ground, hard.
Crack!
The stone cracked beneath him as dust exploded into the air.
Silence.
For a moment, the street was completely quiet. No one moved. The only sound was the wind stirring the dust.
Then, chaos.
"Bellamy—!!"
Sarquiss roared, the worry plain on his face, but his plea fell on deaf ears. Bellamy had already hit the dirt, motionless and defeated.
"What the hell was that technique?!"
"Who is this guy!?"
The pirates watching from the sidelines erupted into shouts of disbelief. Even Sarquiss took a step forward, eyes wide with shock. His captain, the infamously cocky Bellamy the Hyena, was unconscious—flattened and motionless in the dirt.
Gin stood there, bloodied but unbroken, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths.
He didn't glance at the gathering crowd, nor did he bother with a triumphant word. Instead, he spun his tonfa once in a practiced motion, sheathed it with precision, and turned away. His steps rang out across the hushed street, each footfall heavy as a heartbeat in the silence.
"He… he beat Bellamy."
"First that finger jab, now the tonfa… what is he?"
"Is he even human?"
The murmurs rippled around him, but Gin didn't turn back. Their words couldn't touch him. They barely registered.
"That's what you get for fighting dirty," he muttered under his breath, his voice quiet yet sharp as steel.
The crowd parted like the tide before him, too stunned or too smart to stop him. No one dared meet his gaze, not even those clutching the pride of Bellamy's defeated crew.
And Gin—without revealing his full strength—had just made it clear to the pirates of Jaya:
He wasn't someone to mess with.