Whoosh—thunk!!
The very instant three bluish daggers came plunging toward the back of my neck,
I snored deeply in my drunken stupor, lazily rolling onto my side to scratch the itch on the bridge of my nose.
Thunk!
The blades buried themselves deep in the tabletop precisely where my neck had been.
In the 0.1-second gap while the assassins stiffened their jaws in surprise,
my knee sprang up like a coiled spring and drove square into the lead man’s groin.
"Guhurk?!"
As the man’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled, the empty whiskey bottle in my hand spun through the air and smashed into the temple of the man beside him.
Crash—!!
"Aaaagh?! Fire! Fireworks!!"
Buggy the Clown, who had been sleeping spread-eagled beside me, sprang up with a scream.
His startled head and torso separated and shot toward the ceiling, while his two legs floating in midair kicked the assassins’ jaws away in a frantic combo.
"W-What?! Why aren’t you asleep?!"
"Get them! Cut every last one of them down!!"
The banquet hall doors shattered as dozens of bounty hunters poured in like a wave from the corridor and through the windows, axes and iron pipes raised overhead.
From that point on, it became a hellish, single-take brawl that did not pause for even an instant.
Slide—.
Still reeling from drink, I staggered and slid up onto the table.
When two swords flew at me in a cross, I bent backward ninety degrees to let the blades pass, then lashed out with my toe and sent the huge silver platter holding the whole roast pig flying.
Bang!
As the greasy platter smashed in the faces of three assassins,
I slashed through the rope hanging from the ceiling with my cutlass.
The recoil launched me into the air. I crashed through the mansion’s great glass window and slid down onto the moonlit outdoor terrace.
Crash—!!
But on the long, narrow main street leading from the terrace to the square, hundreds of Baroque Works grunts had already formed ranks with their gun barrels trained on me.
"Fire—!!"
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—!!
The instant the flashes of their coordinated volley were about to erupt,
a black shadow kicked off the ground like lightning from the darkness of an alley near the harbor, where the prison ship was moored.
[Silent Step], the infernal assassin’s footwork that made neither sound nor footsteps.
Whoosh, shaaack!!
What flashed through the moonlight were ten long steel blades.
"And who do these clumsy little rats think they’re hunting?"
It was Kuro of a Thousand Plans.
The cat claws bound to his wrists whipped up an invisible wind.
Five or six white trails crisscrossed chaotically in the air, and the chests and necks of the twelve gunners at the front, just about to pull their triggers, were ripped open all at once.
Before the fountains of blood could even surge upward, Kuro slid behind the gunners and struck their barrels up with his blades, twisting the trajectories wildly.
As the front ranks fell from their own gunfire, Kuro kicked one gunner in the back and hurled him forward.
The airborne enemy’s body flew toward—
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A huge, bandage-wrapped man who emerged from the darkness, his heavy steel gauntlets knocking together with every step.
"Get lost, you vermin!!"
Don Krieg’s steel gauntlet cleaved through the air.
He smashed the flying enemy head-on with his massive shield, crushing his bones outright,
then threw open the steel armor plates over both shoulders in a single motion, revealing the muzzles of concealed rapid-fire machine guns and shotguns.
Click—ka-ka-ka-boom!!
A merciless hail of lead poured forth amid fierce clouds of gunpowder smoke, tearing up both alley walls and the stone pavement.
Dozens of shield-bearing assassins were riddled like beehives and blasted away,
and without stopping, Krieg drew a huge steel spiked club from his waist and brought it down upon the crowns of the remaining men.
Crunch! Wham!!
Over the heads of those screaming as they fled amid the cracking sound of bones,
a massive shadow, large enough to block the moonlight, dropped straight down.
KABOOOM—!!
A blue monster rose amid stone pavement shattered as though by an earthquake.
Arlong stood clutching the enormous stone fountain that had stood in the center of town, having ripped it out whole with both hands.
"You lower life-forms... dare set your sights on a shark’s neck?!"
Whirl—bang—!!!!
The massive stone pillar, weighing several tons, carved a colossal whirlwind through the air from Arlong’s forearm.
About thirty fleeing hunters were struck head-on by the stone pillar and hurled through the walls of buildings.
As a huge jet of water burst from the shattered fountain and surged into the air amid pulverized stone dust,
Arlong stretched out his blue webbed hand and snatched at the droplets as though squeezing them in his grip.
Swish—bang! Bang! Baaang—!!
The water droplets tore through the air like bullets, piercing the foreheads and shoulders of the snipers lying in wait atop the roofs with pinpoint accuracy.
Into the midst of that chaos, as the snipers screamed and fell from the rooftops like rain—
"Leave some for me too, you monster bastards—!!"
Buggy’s flying torso skimmed in just above the ground, spinning eight sharp knives.
Clang! Clang! Clanggg!
He knocked aside every weapon drawn by those trying to survive, tearing through their clothes and the backs of their necks to open a path.
At the end of that blood-drenched path,
I came stumbling forward at last, adjusted my old tricorn hat, and leaped.
The toe of my boot, wreathed in Haki,
used Buggy’s severed back, floating in midair, as a foothold and propelled me skyward.
Bang!
"Aagh?! Why are you stepping on me to jump?!"
Ignoring Buggy’s furious shriek, I spun three times through the air and hurled the forty-year vintage rum bottle I had pulled from my coat into the middle of a stack of gunpowder barrels strewn across the street.
Then, using my falling momentum,
I drew a pistol from inside my coat and fired through the air at the gunpowder barrels’ fuse.
Sssizzle—KABOOOOOM—!!!!
A massive firework of sweet liquor and black gunpowder entwined swallowed Whiskey Peak’s entire main street.
Propelled upward by the blast wave, I somersaulted through the air, rolled smoothly across the ground with my back to the flames, and landed.
Even as I shook the dust from my coat, my steps still swayed as though I were drunk.
Swish.
Kuro took his place to my left, flicking the blood from his long claw blades into the air.
Krieg stood to my right, blowing away the smoke from his red-hot gun barrels.
And Arlong seized control of the darkness behind me, harsh breaths streaming from his sharp sawblade nose.
Overhead, Buggy floated in the air, grumbling as he put his body back together and grinding his teeth with bloodshot eyes.
In barely more than a minute,
not one of the several hundred Baroque Works bounty hunters had been spared. They lay scattered across the street, groaning like refuse swept aside by an enormous broom.
"Haaah..."
Amid the thick smoke and stench of gunpowder,
I lifted my head and flicked a finger against the brim of my crooked tricorn hat.
At the far end of the street, four silhouettes blocking the entrance to a giant cactus-shaped rock came into view beneath the moonlight.
The curly-haired giant with a saxophone slung over his shoulder and a cigar between his teeth: Mr. 8.
Mr. 9, astride a unicycle and gripping a steel bat.
The muscular nun carrying an enormous cross: Miss Monday.
And a blue-haired beauty standing atop a giant duck, peacock-feather-shaped razor wire wound around her fingers: Miss Wednesday.
They were the officers of Baroque Works, the secret criminal company that ruled the darkness of the Grand Line.
Their faces had gone white as sheets.
They had thought the prey they intended to swallow was merely a rookie pirate crew,
only to realize too late that it was a mad band of monsters dragging East Blue’s beasts around on chains.
"...M-Monsters..."
Mr. 8’s jaw trembled as he clutched his saxophone.
In the midst of that razor-edged standoff,
I blew a stream of cigar smoke with a soft puff and shook the empty rum bottle in my hand.
"Oh, ladies and gentlemen. The welcome fireworks were certainly splendid, but...
aren’t the blades a touch too cold for welcoming guests?"
My languid, perilous smile sank deep into the officers’ gaze.
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