The Bloodhand Gang's gunmen had cover, but that same cover narrowed their field of vision—robbing them of the chance to react first.
Amid the thunder of gunfire,deadly bullets screamed in from every blind angle,blasting through skulls and torsos alike.
Scarlet blood splattered across the floor, gradually painting a grotesque, horrifying mural of death.
"Stop hiding—he can fly!"
The mounting pressure drove the pirates to madness. The metallic tang of blood rekindled the dormant savagery that peace and indulgence had dulled.
No matter how long they had enjoyed safety, pirates of the Bloodhand Gang were brutal to the bone.A massive man roared, flipping over a table as he raised his flintlock and bellowed:
"Get up and shoot! If that doesn't work, grab your swords and cut him down! Stop cowering like cowards!"
His furious voice boomed through the hall like a thunderclap, rousing the primal bloodlust of every survivor.
"Yeah! We can't just—Bang!"
One man shot up, hot-blooded by the speech—only for his head to explode before he could finish.
The red-and-white spray splashed across his companion's face, snuffing out the last flicker of courage.He dropped back down, trembling.
'That's it?'
Ren hung upside down from the ceiling, both feet magnetized against the beams.
Expressionless, he turned his gun downward—and in the same instant the pain bloomed in his target's chest, another silver bullet burst the large man's head apart.
Only now did the gang members realize—their enemy truly could fly. Shooting from cover was useless.
Cornered by death itself, the outlaws unleashed every ounce of desperation they had left, snarling as they fired back wildly.
A storm of bullets shrieked through the air—but every shot missed, evaded by that erratically moving, high-speed figure.
"Don't panic! He's just fast, that's all!"
One skilled marksman steadied his breathing and took careful aim. His bullet struck home, dead center.
Then he discovered something far crueler.
The enemy merely flinched—and with no loss of motion, returned fire, blowing the shooter's skull apart.
Either the man was wearing something that stopped bullets…or he was a monster who could tank them head-on.
Bang—!
Another thunderous shot tore through the air, claiming yet another life.
That was the final straw. The remaining Bloodhand pirates broke. Screaming, they scattered in blind panic, desperate to escape the slaughterhouse their hideout had become.
Once, they were predators who preyed on the weak.Now, a stronger predator had come for them.
They could neither accept it—nor resist.
They could only run.
Perhaps they weren't fast enough to outrun a man who could fly…
But—!
They could use others' lives to buy time! As long as they outran their comrades, that would be enough.
One pirate shoved aside a companion and slammed a small door shut behind him.Another hacked into the back of a man blocking his path and used the corpse as a human shield.
Yet no matter how they struggled, the slaughter went on.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The monotonous explosions dominated the hall, absolute and unrelenting.
Tables, pillars, walls—none could stop the piercing power of those large-caliber bullets.
Wherever the dark red crosshair fell, no one survived.
The 'Reaper' flying through the air showed no mercy, harvesting lives from men who screamed, cursed, or begged in terror.
Click—!
A mechanical click echoed. The silver Desert Eagle locked back—empty.
Ren instinctively reached into his pocket… only to find it empty. All his magazines were spent.
The "blessing of the Lucky Goddess" could increase the chance of drawing what he wanted—but it was still only a chance, not certainty.
He hadn't built up enough time or luck yet. Running out of bullets was natural.
Besides, he never planned to rely solely on guns.
To be blunt, in the world of One Piece, gunslingers didn't matter much. Which top-tier fighter wasn't one who crushed bones with fists or blades?
Weapons that depended on gunpowder and bullets would never decide the fate of this world.
And yet, the carnage didn't end with the last bullet.
If anything—it grew even more brutal.
"Come on, then! Let me see what color your hearts are!"
Ren's eyes blazed like fire. He slid the silver Desert Eagle into his waistband and drew a Malay dagger.
Black-and-gold patterns entwined along the blade, giving it a cruel beauty. The mirror-like edge caught a glint of cold light.
His close-combat system was simple:E-rank Strength and Constitution, the Indestructible Vajra Body, refined footwork and power control, plus a hint of swordsmanship he'd picked up from Zoro himself.
When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
The bamboo-copter above his head whirred rapidly—and the Reaper dove from the ceiling!
"Eat my Flying Slash!"
Less than twenty of the Bloodhand Gang's elites remained. Some had fled, some hid in the burning hall, and others even dashed straight into the flames in desperation.
The fire had swallowed half the hall already, but even its heat was less terrifying than the flying Reaper's gaze.
At this moment—the survivors finally realized the terrifying enemy had run out of bullets. Their chance had come.
Some doubted whether blades could harm someone who shrugged off bullets…
But with death closing in, they had no choice but to bet everything.
The inferno blocked the main exit, and the side doors had been barricaded shut by the traitors who'd escaped first—cowards ensuring their own safety at everyone else's expense.
If the roles were reversed, they'd have done the same.
But none of that mattered now.
They were caged beasts. Life or death would depend on whether they could kill their enemy.
"Kill him!"
"He's alone! There's over twenty of us!"
"Don't think that bastard will spare anyone!"
A burly man who seemed to be a new leader roared, rallying the last survivors from behind the stone pillars.
Their original boss had vanished, and the sniper who'd backed him up had likely been taken out in the chaos.
Now, they had only themselves.
The sound of spinning blades filled the air as the airborne Reaper clashed with the desperate pirates below.
Swords flashed and screams rang out as the Bloodhand Gang plunged into their final frenzy.
But Ren moved with impossible agility.
The bamboo-copter might look like a toy propeller, spinning and flying like one—but in truth, it was an anti-gravity flight device, generating a repulsive force field that enveloped the body.
Controlled purely by thought, it allowed 360-degree movement with no blind spots—even instant acceleration or stops at will.
Used in combat, it was nothing short of a dimensional suppression weapon.
(End of Chapter)