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Chapter 437: Bang! Shoulder Blown Apart, Hiding Under the Bus
Shifting focus away from the edge of the island, past the wailing survivors being mercilessly herded by the Blue Zone, the perspective moves to the central hub of Erangel.
Pochinki.
This abandoned town, characterized by its red-brick and grey-tile buildings, was so unnervingly quiet it induced panic. The highest vantage point in the entire district was a three-story unfinished building. The rooftop lacked any railings, exposing rust-red rebar and pale grey concrete. The sun beat down on the roof, radiating enough heat to scorch a man's scalp.
Yasopp, the sniper of the Red-Haired Pirates, lay spread-eagle on the very edge of the roof. His pirate cape had been discarded long ago; he was now wearing a system-issued grey-green tactical jacket. Resting perfectly in front of him was an SKS Semi-Automatic Rifle, its long barrel gleaming with a blued steel finish. Mounted on the upper rail was an incredibly precise 4x Scope. Arrayed neatly by his right hand were seven or eight boxes of gleaming brass 7.62mm Ammunition—treasures he had just scavenged from the modular apartment blocks downstairs.
In this godforsaken place where all supernatural powers were completely sealed, no one could fly through the sky or burrow into the earth. There was no Observation Haki to predict danger. There was no Armament Haki to tank physical damage.
Yasopp knew full well that under these absolute mortal rules, whoever held the high ground and wielded heavy or long gun was comparable to a god.
Sticking out his tongue, Yasopp licked his dry lips.
"Wind speed level three. Air is dry, humidity is moderate." He reached out and stroked the cold metal receiver of the SKS. "This iron contraption's rifling is a hundred times more precise than my old partner."
He pressed his right eye against the eyepiece of the 4x Scope. The blurry streets hundreds of meters away were instantly pulled right in front of him. It was so clear he could see the mottled rust on the street signs and the cigarette butts littered on the ground.
Yasopp's calloused index finger rested lightly on the trigger. Though his body was reduced to a mortal state, the freakish eyesight and muscle memory he had honed over decades at sea hadn't degraded in the slightest. He absolutely loved these modern weapons. There was no need to frantically shove gunpowder down the barrel and pack it with a ramrod after every shot, like with the flintlocks in the pirate world.
Slap a magazine in, and with just the twitch of a finger, the terrifying rate of fire could rip any living thing ahead into pieces. This was an absolute, asymmetrical slaughter. For a top-tier sniper, this was a slaughtering machine tailored specifically for him.
Yasopp's breathing grew incredibly long and steady. The crosshairs slowly swept across the empty streets of Pochinki. Past the abandoned, scrapped sedans. Over the collapsed red-brick walls.
Suddenly, two sneaky figures encroached into the 4x Scope's field of view. They were hugging a low wall at an intersection, nervously poking their heads out to observe their surroundings, attempting to cross the wide street.
Yasopp broke into a silent, wide grin. "Found two big rats."
Both men in his sights were massive. The one walking in front was as robust as a bear walking on its hind legs. It was the 3rd Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, "Diamond" Jozu. Crouched and trailing closely behind him was the 5th Division Commander, "Flower Sword" Vista.
Normally, back in the New World, these two were monsters who could make the Marines tremble with a single sneeze. One was completely invulnerable. The other could unleash overwhelming torrents of sword aura. But now, through the 4x Scope, the reality was starkly clear.
In Jozu's thick hands, he tightly gripped a severely chipped, broken Machete. Vista was even worse off; he hadn't even found his signature twin swords, and instead had a rusty Crowbar tucked into the belt at his lower back. The two men hunched forward, walking with an extreme lack of security. With every step, they checked their front, back, left, and right at least three times.
"Meeting each other is destiny, old rivals."
Yasopp's index finger applied a fraction of pressure, feeling the metallic resistance of the trigger. Following Vista's moving footsteps, the muzzle drifted, making an almost negligible lead on the target.
Bang! A crisp, violent gunshot tore through the dead silence above Pochinki. The stock kicked hard into Yasopp's shoulder. The recoil was certainly not small, but his entire body was as steady as a boulder; the muzzle only jumped upward by half an inch.
In the scope's view, Vista, who had just stepped out half a stride, let out a bloodcurdling scream. A blinding mist of blood exploded directly from his right shoulder. The pointed 7.62mm bullet, carrying terrifying kinetic energy, tore straight through his muscle fibers. A large chunk of mangled flesh mixed with blood sprayed into the air. The massive impact threw his tall frame completely off balance, sending him tumbling a full rotation across the asphalt.
"ARGH!" Vista clutched his right shoulder tightly, his facial features twisting in agony. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead and chin onto the pavement.
"ENEMY ATTACK! FROM THE DIRECTION OF THE UNFINISHED BUILDING!" Jozu roared, his combat instincts still sharp.
The moment he heard the gunshot whistling through the air, Jozu instantly abandoned his plan to rush forward and grab the Med Kit. He grabbed Vista by the back of his collar. Relying on the sheer brute strength that remained somewhat intimidating even in a mortal body, he forcefully dragged the profusely bleeding swordsman toward an abandoned bus by the side of the road.
The two rolled into the shadows by the bus tires like a pair of beaten dogs.
Yasopp gave them absolutely no time to breathe. Rapidly adjusting his breath, his index finger squeezed the trigger again.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Three consecutive bullets howled out. The first bullet viciously shredded the rear tire of the bus. The deafening sound of exploding rubber scared Jozu into shrinking his neck, nearly making him throw away his broken Machete.
The second and third bullets accurately hammered the exterior casing of the bus's gas tank. Sparks flew wildly. Although the tank had long since dried up and didn't trigger an explosion, the ear-piercing shriek of thick metal being forcibly ripped open by bullets was enough to make the two men hiding behind the vehicle feel their scalps tingle.
Yasopp didn't intend to kill them right away in one wave. He was using absolute firepower to control the situation. He was sealing off their blind spots, preventing Jozu and Vista from retreating to the red-brick houses by the road. As long as they dared to leave the metal cover of the bus and expose even a sliver of skin to the open air, they would absolutely be shot into a sieve.
"The arc of this bullet drop is practically a work of art. And the rhythmic suppression of this semi-auto fire..." Yasopp patted the stock of the SKS, his face flushed with excitement, casually blowing away a wisp of pungent smoke drifting from the muzzle. This weapon perfectly suited his tastes.
Meanwhile, behind the bus hundreds of meters away, Vista leaned against a rusty wheel hub, gasping heavily for air. Crimson blood steadily flowed down through the gaps in his fingers, quickly dyeing the dust on the ground into a dark red puddle.
The wound flared with agonizing pain. Without the invisible armor of Armament Haki protecting his body, his current flesh was essentially as thin as paper; any sharp object could claim his life.
"Those rat bastards from the Red-Haired Pirates!" Vista cursed through gritted teeth.
Normally in the New World, the scrap metal fired from these muskets wouldn't even break his skin. A casual wave of a Haki-infused slash would easily level that damn unfinished building. But now? He, the grand swordsman of the Whitebeard Pirates, was pinned down by a broken gun from hundreds of meters away, unable to even lift his head.
It was stifling. So frustrating he wanted to vomit blood.
Jozu's face was equally ashen, his entire body trembling with rage. He glanced at the broken Machete in his hand—a blade so dull it couldn't even split wood. Then, peering through the gap under the bus's chassis, he glared at the unfinished building hundreds of meters away, which only looked like a tiny black speck.
The distance was simply too great. In between lay a completely exposed, lethal stretch of road. Even if he threw this Machete like a dart, it wouldn't cover a tenth of the distance. The diamond defense he was once so proud of had completely amounted to nothing in this damn game. The moment he dared to pop his head out, his mortal flesh would absolutely fail to withstand that highly penetrating, lethal lead.
This marksmanship is too vicious. It's definitely that guy, Yasopp.
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