Slada stood silently, staring at his fists, lost in thought.
That single punch had been his strongest strike. It carried all the power he could muster, fused with his Haki. And yet, he was not satisfied.
Not with the result.
Not with himself.
Not with his strength.
Not even with the intensity of his Haki.
He shook his head slightly.
Images replayed in his mind. Battles he had watched countless times through video Den Den Mushi recordings. Those clashes between true monsters of the sea. Even if watching could never compare to experiencing it firsthand, Slada's instincts were sharp. As a born monster, he could still see the gaps.
Compared to those people, he was still far behind.
Once, his belongings had been simple. An anchor for a weapon. Some seasoning. A lighter to start fires.
Now, he had gained something else.
A video Den Den Mushi.
At the same time, his dissatisfaction extended to his opponents. They were too weak. They no longer pushed him.
A person's potential was limitless. At first, he could not even challenge the strongest beasts on the island. After learning Haki, that power awakened rapidly. His growth accelerated, and the beasts that once threatened him could no longer keep up.
To increase the pressure, he began restricting his Armament Haki, fighting purely with his body.
It helped, but it also slowed the progress of his Haki itself.
Perhaps soon, he would be able to deal with those beasts using nothing but his physical strength.
This island had once been a crucible, a place that forged his power through danger and blood.
Now, it was becoming a shackle.
He could come and go freely. The fear was gone.
What he needed were stronger enemies. Real battles.
Apart from the village, Hunting Island was rapidly losing its appeal.
Slada lowered his fists and lifted his weapon again, hoisting the massive anchor onto his shoulder. He judged his position and began walking in a familiar direction.
He knew this island inside and out. Over the past few years, as his strength grew, there were few places he had not explored.
As for the Blood Lion's corpse, he paid it no mind. The meat was unpleasant, and the stench still lingered in his nose.
Behind him, the scent of blood spread quickly. Other beasts would soon arrive, drawn by it, fighting over the remains and perhaps triggering another brutal struggle.
Slada did not look back.
On the western side of Hunting Island lay a swamp. At its center was a lake, fed by a small waterfall cascading from above.
With a heavy splash, a figure fell from the sky and slammed into the lake's surface, sending water spraying in all directions.
This lake was home to its own overlords.
On the banks and beneath the surface, massive shapes rested calmly. Each creature was seven or eight meters long, with short but powerful limbs, elongated jaws capable of terrifying bite force, thick tails, and bodies armored with hard scales.
Crocodiles.
The dominant species of this swamp.
They barely reacted to the intrusion, only casting brief glances before returning to their stillness.
The one who had jumped down was Slada.
Beneath the surface, a massive shadow moved. The water churned, and soon a giant crocodile surfaced. This one was different. Nearly thirty meters long, it was the king of this lake and the ruler of the entire crocodile pack.
Half its body floated on the water. On its head lay Slada.
Half a year ago, Slada had already beaten this Crocodile King into submission. At least, that was how he saw it.
By chance, he had taken a liking to this place. After hunting or fighting, he would often come here to bathe and clean himself.
At first, the crocodiles had not accepted this.
The moment Slada arrived, they treated him as prey. A fierce battle followed. One by one, the crocodiles were driven back, until the true overlord emerged. Even it was defeated, left helpless as Slada calmly bathed and then departed.
The second time, the third time, they fought again.
Each time, they lost.
Eventually, they stopped resisting.
Slada did not cause trouble. He bathed, sometimes slept here, and left. In return, the crocodiles ignored his presence.
He had become a regular.
As evening approached, Slada lay quietly on the Crocodile King's head, staring at the sky and judging the time.
He rarely stayed in the village. Usually, he returned once every three days.
Today was the third day.
"I'm leaving," Slada said calmly as he stood up.
Using the crocodile's body as a platform, he leapt lightly onto the rock wall beside the waterfall. Despite his massive size, his movements were effortless. The stone held firm beneath his feet.
On the way back, he dragged behind him a huge wild ox.
Suddenly, Slada frowned.
He stopped and examined the ground carefully.
This path was familiar to him, but something was different. Flattened grass. Disturbed soil. Traces left by many feet.
Not one person.
Many.
And they were heading straight toward the village.
These were not the village hunters. Slada was certain of that.
Had something happened?
Were strangers in the village?
His expression darkened. He broke into a run.
As he drew closer, Slada slowed. His Observation Haki spread naturally. He could still sense the villagers. No signs of panic or danger.
But there were many unfamiliar presences.
He approached cautiously, doubt filling his mind. For some reason, his heart began to pound. A faint nervousness crept in, unfamiliar and unsettling.
His Observation Haki brushed against powerful figures. Some of the Nightfall Pirates noticed they were being watched. Those with stronger senses felt a massive presence approaching.
Curious glances followed.
"He's back," someone said quietly.
The villagers, busy preparing, heard the words and smiled with relief.
Soon, Slada emerged from the jungle.
His six-meter-tall figure immediately drew attention. Height alone did not guarantee strength, but in his case, there was no doubt.
He carried a massive anchor in one hand and dragged the wild ox with the other.
Taking in the lively scene and the unfamiliar faces, Slada immediately recognized the markings on their clothing.
The Nightfall Pirates.
He had paid close attention to the crew Gar had joined. Their flag was unmistakable.
Surprise and excitement flashed in his eyes. He had imagined this scene countless times.
Then he sensed a familiar presence.
Gar.
"Slada, you're back," Gar said, unable to hide his excitement.
They stood face to face. Slada towered over him by nearly two meters, his aura dense and oppressive.
"It seems you haven't fallen behind," Gar said with a laugh.
"Mm. You're back too," Slada replied. "So your pirate crew is here?"
"That's right," Gar nodded. "Most of them are on another island. The rest are here. Come on. I'll take you to meet our captain. He's very interested in you."
Slada understood the meaning behind those words. His pulse quickened.
The village was small. Teach sat on a flat stone nearby. Gar led Slada over.
Teach had been waiting for this moment.
Even though he had sensed Slada earlier, this was their first face-to-face meeting.
Up close, the power within Slada was even clearer. His physique was terrifying. His aura was wild, untamed, like a ferocious beast standing openly before you.
Unlike most people, Slada did not hide it. Or rather, he disdained hiding it.
Years of battling monsters had carved that presence into him.
Slada, in turn, finally saw Teach with his own eyes.
He had watched countless recordings. He knew how terrifying Teach's strength was.
But standing before him was different.
Teach sat there quietly, appearing almost ordinary, like a man who had returned to simplicity.
Slada's instincts screamed danger.
Within Teach's body lurked a terror far greater than anything he had faced. If Teach moved, Slada knew he would die. Their levels were not even close.
Five times stronger?
Ten times?
He did not know.
But instead of fear, passion burned hotter in his chest.
This was the world he wanted to see. This was the power he wanted to chase.
Teach studied Slada calmly.
Their gazes met.
A subtle pressure pressed down on Slada's mind. He understood. This was a test.
It had little effect.
Teach smiled, withdrew his focus, and stood up.
He extended his hand. "Marshall D. Teach, captain of the Nightfall Pirates."
Teach was tall by most standards, nearly four meters, but he only reached Slada's abdomen.
"Slada," Slada replied, clasping his hand firmly.
Gar watched from the side. Other crew members observed from a distance.
"Slada," Teach said, spreading his arms with a booming laugh. "I came here for you. Gar told me about your strength. The Nightfall Pirates need people like you. Now that I've seen you myself, I agree. Join us as an executive. I've prepared a gift for you."
His voice carried an infectious confidence.
Slada lowered his head slightly and smiled. "Mm. I accept, Captain."
Teach laughed loudly. "Then welcome aboard!"
He turned and shouted, "Comrades, welcome our new executive!"
Cheers erupted instantly.
Gar grinned. Slada looked around at the scene and felt something unfamiliar stir within him.
Companions.
Far away, Redyat listened to the news through a Den Den Mushi and smiled.
"A new executive, huh?" he said softly. "Welcome, new comrade."