The dueling platform inside Hannabal was packed to the brim. Every seat was taken, and even the aisles were crowded with pirates craning their necks to see. On the upper levels, crews leaned against the railings, eyes fixed on the pit below, waiting for blood and glory.
Crew after crew had gathered, each claiming their territory according to strength and reputation. The weak gave way to the powerful; that was simply the law of the sea.
"Speak, Wallace! What are your terms? We've all agreed to your challenge," a pirate captain called down with a mocking smile.
Wallace stood at the center of the arena, calm but tense. His bounty, barely thirty million, might have made him noteworthy in the Four Seas, but here, in Grandline, that number was laughable. Pirates with ten million on their heads were as common as barnacles.
And yet, today, every soul on Kakarra Island knew his name.
He had fought his way through ambushes, traps, and blood-soaked streets to get here. Now, surrounded by greedy eyes and jeering faces, Wallace could feel their hunger pressing against him like a physical weight. But he wasn't afraid. Beneath the tension, confidence burned.
He drew a deep breath and raised his voice. "I'll divide these three hundred million Berries into thirty portions, ten million per fight. You send one fighter at a time. If they win, they take ten million. If they lose, I keep it. Those are my terms!"
A ripple went through the crowd. Thirty duels. To claim all the Berries, someone would have to win thirty consecutive fights against him. Impossible odds for most but the lure of even one victory was enough to spark chaos.
Of course, Wallace's plan went deeper. By setting so many rounds, he forced the pirate crews to fight among themselves for the right to challenge him. The more they quarreled, the better his chances of survival.
"There'll be a thirty-minute rest after each duel," Wallace continued firmly. "Captains are forbidden from fighting. And no contestant may enter twice."
That clause earned a murmur of discontent but it was smart. Wallace couldn't survive if he had to face the true monsters among them. Many captains here had bounties over seventy million; one duel with them could end him.
The pirates exchanged glances. Some frowned, but none refused. The spectacle was too enticing to pass up.
"Wallace," a cold voice cut through the noise. "What if you die?"
Simon, captain of the Simon Pirates, lounged lazily in his seat. His cruel grin matched the glint of the twin iron orbs rolling in his palm. He had come to settle a score.
Wallace turned toward him, face expressionless. "Then you can divide the money however you want," he replied evenly.
Inside, though, bitterness stirred. He could have reduced the number of duels, three rounds of a hundred million each, but none of the captains would have agreed. Too few chances meant fewer spoils. Thirty rounds, however, gave everyone hope.
He'd made the game big enough for every shark to bite and for him to slip through alive.
Satisfied with the terms, the captains nodded. The rules were signed into a simple pirate contract binding in this lawless world by mutual recognition.
From above, Teach leaned over the railing, watching with growing amusement. "Zehahaha! Interesting. That kid's got guts."
Baccarat, standing beside him, crossed her arms. "Maybe. But he's being reckless. Even if he's strong, how many fights can he win before he's worn down?"
Teach's grin widened. "Zehahaha! That's what makes it fun. Don't underestimate a man fighting for everything he has. Potential's a funny thing, it shows up when you've got no way out."
Below, Wallace unfastened the heavy bag from his back and dumped its contents in front of the crowd.
Three hundred million Berries spilled out in tightly wrapped bundles, shimmering towers of wealth. The sight drew gasps and hungry laughter from the stands. Some pirates even reached out unconsciously, fingers twitching as if they could already feel the crisp notes between their hands.
The captains huddled together, arguing over who would send fighters first. The weaker crews could only watch, knowing they'd get the scraps. The powerful ones, those whose captains commanded over a hundred million Berries, were already monopolizing the first slots.
After ten long minutes of bickering, the first challenger was chosen.
A man leaped onto the platform, long saber in hand. His bounty was just over thirty million—slightly higher than Wallace's. He looked confident, almost giddy.
"Wallace! I'll take the first ten million!" he shouted, grinning wide. This was his moment. If he won, he'd earn a fortune and fame.
Wallace met his gaze coldly. The man rushed forward, saber flashing...
Clang!
The blade rang out like steel on stone. The pirate froze, eyes wide. His cut had left not even a scratch.
"Idiot," someone shouted from the stands. "He's a Devil Fruit user! Steel-Steel Fruit!"
Realization came too late. Wallace's lips twisted in a sneer. "Get lost!"
His steel-coated fist slammed into the man's head like a cannonball.
Boom!
The challenger flew across the ring, crashing into the barrier and tumbling out of bounds. When he finally struggled to his feet, blood dripped from his mouth and humiliation burned in his cheeks. The crowd jeered.
His own captain glared down at him, eyes cold. One lost slot—ten million gone. His reputation would never recover.
Wallace stood motionless in the center, his steel skin gleaming faintly under the torchlight. He'd proven his point: his bounty didn't reflect his true power.
The crowd fell silent for a heartbeat. Then came the murmurs, the recalculations.
The next challenger would have to be stronger.
"I'll go next!"
A giant of a man stepped forward—four meters tall, muscles bulging, his bare chest covered in scars. The crowd murmured again.
"That's Raman, second-in-command of the Daman Pirates! Seventy million bounty!"
Wallace's eyes narrowed. Raman's presence alone radiated danger. He could fight him, yes, but doing so now, at the start, would cost too much stamina.
"I surrender this round," Wallace said flatly.
Gasps erupted.
"You coward!" someone shouted from the stands.
Wallace ignored them. He walked to the pile, grabbed one ten-million bundle, and tossed it toward Raman. "Your win."
Raman caught it, surprised at how easily he'd earned it, but his captain, Daman, a pirate worth one hundred thirty million, simply smirked. Wallace had made the right call.
His surrender wasn't weakness—it was calculation.
Over the next several rounds, the pattern continued. The strongest pirates, those with bounties between sixty and seventy million, took their turns, and Wallace surrendered each time, conserving his energy. Seven duels passed like this, seventy million gone.
Then came the real tests.
A pirate with a forty-million bounty stepped into the ring, rolling his shoulders. "You can't surrender every fight," he sneered. "Come on, Wallace. Show us what you've got!"
Wallace's steel body gleamed red-hot. "Molten Steel Fist!"
He roared, charging forward, his fist glowing with heat and fury.
The next round had begun.