BOOM—!
A razor-sharp blade storm erupted with terrifying force, like a tightly compressed cyclone suddenly unleashed.
The gust tore through several long, shadowy tendrils that whipped through the air like tentacles, shredding them to ribbons with ease.
And that wasn't all. The sheer power of the attack blasted through the storefront behind the target, gouging a deep trench into the earth.
From the harbor's edge, one could clearly see the panicked citizens fleeing through the streets further inland.
Cough! Cough!
"Hey! Cross! You went overboard!" shouted Captain Moore, waving away the thick dust kicked up by the destruction, coughing several times before grumbling in frustration.
"Sorry, Captain," Cross replied, squinting as his sharp gaze swept the surroundings. His Observation Haki spread invisibly across the area like a sonar pulse, locking onto the presence of the one who had just ambushed him.
As one of the three core forms of Haki in the world of One Piece, Observation Haki heightened the user's five senses, allowing them to sense the presence, emotions, and intent of living beings.
More advanced users could detect enemies hidden from view, read the number and locations of foes, and even glimpse their next move.
That meant the attacker, unless they had escaped the range of Cross's Observation Haki, could hide as well as they liked, but they couldn't evade his tracking.
"A perfect opening!"
Suddenly, Dickens saw Cross with his back turned and was instantly elated. He raised his twin-bladed battle axe high, then swept it in a wide arc aimed at Cross's torso.
Unfortunately for him, to someone using Observation Haki like a biological radar, Dickens's every movement was already being 'watched.' There was no chance he could catch Cross off guard, let alone land a hit.
With the axe swinging down, howling through the air, Cross dodged without even a scratch.
"You bastard, Soru!"
Captain Moore barked out a furious command, his figure vanishing from sight in an instant.
"Shit—!"
"Shigan: Pierce!"
Dickens barely had time to register the blur before Moore materialized right in front of him like a ghost. His weapon, a jitte forged from pure steel and shaped like a spear without a tip, thrust forward at extreme speed.
Thwack—!
Dickens raised his axe to defend, but too late. A sharp, numbing pain lanced through his chest. The jitte hadn't even had a blade, yet Moore had driven it straight into his heart with terrifying force. Bloodied metal emerged from Dickens's back, skewering him completely.
"Dare to challenge the Navy? You're begging to die!"
Captain Moore snarled, face twisted with rage. Bracing the base of the jitte with his left hand, he pushed it deeper into Dickens's body with both hands.
"H-How…"
Dickens's head drooped slowly. He stared at the gaping wound in disbelief. He wanted to retaliate, but the strength that once let him lift a small sailboat vanished rapidly. He couldn't even raise his battle axe now.
BAM!
Moore delivered a fierce kick to Dickens's gut, then ripped the jitte free from the man's body.
"Wah—!"
Dickens spat blood as he staggered backward. He collapsed to his knees, head hanging low, dead.
"Bastard…"
Moore, usually composed and dignified, stepped forward again and kicked the corpse hard, muttering a curse through gritted teeth. His face remained dark and stormy.
Then, looking to the side, he realized, Cross was gone.
Captain Moore narrowed his eyes and muttered bitterly, "Damn Joker… These aren't your run-of-the-mill smugglers dealing in black-market weapons and illegal hallucination drugs. These guys are killers-for-hire who'll do anything for money."
Elsewhere in town, Cross stood silently in a shadowy alleyway, sword in hand, facing off with a tall, long-haired man.
The man had a delicate, almost feminine face and a slender, lanky frame. He wore a dark red suit, beige shirt, and brown leather shoes. His jet-black hair cascaded down to his waist, at a glance, he could easily be mistaken for a woman.
"You look familiar. Have we met?" Cross tilted his head, eyes fixed on the man's face.
"No," the man replied calmly, shaking his head. "But… you met my brother. He didn't like growing his hair long."
"Is that so? Sorry, I don't remember," Cross said with a shrug.
"No surprise there. Someone like you, destined for greatness, wouldn't remember someone who died by your hand," the man said with an eerie, soft smile.
"Now that's not very nice. You make me sound like some crazed killer," Cross muttered, pursing his lips. "But judging by your tone… you're here for revenge, huh?"
"I never said you were a killer. Everyone knows you're the hero of the Tobias Kingdom," the long-haired man replied with a dark smile. "But yes… revenge is exactly right."
"You flatter me. Still, could you tell me your brother's name, and yours too? I'll make an effort to remember this time," Cross said, his tone light but with an edge of killing intent.
"Much appreciated. I'm Glens Felburn. Not that you'd know me. But my brother… Glens Kapo. That name might ring a bell. If not, I'll give you a hint, three years ago."
"Three years ago… Glens Kapo?"
The name Glens Felburn did seem vaguely familiar to Cross. But Glens Kapo? That didn't ring any bells.
Then—
"Oh… right."
Suddenly, Cross's brows knit, a chill flashing through his eyes. From the depths of memory, he dragged out the name Glens Kapo, and his voice grew cold.
"So that's who you are. No wonder you looked familiar. You're with those vile, inhuman slave traffickers. You all deserved to be butchered a thousand times over."
Three years ago, when Cross was just twelve, he had been wandering the city in the Tobias Kingdom when he was deceived by human traffickers. After unknowingly drinking a drugged beverage, he passed out and was thrown aboard a large vessel docked at the coast.
But the traffickers had badly underestimated Cross's resilience. A sedative that could knock out an average person for an entire day lasted less than an hour on him.
When Cross came to, he found himself locked in a dim, foul-smelling cell in the ship's lower decks. Around him were over twenty women and children, most of them terrified, injured, or worse.
Some of the women bore signs of abuse. A few children had their limbs broken. The traffickers clearly didn't treat them like people.
Cross had exploded with rage.
He tore the cell doors open with brute strength, stormed out alone, and beat down all 37 traffickers aboard the ship, then shattered their limbs and threw them into the sea to be devoured by the fish.
The reason he remembered the name Glens Kapo wasn't just because that had been his first time killing, but because he'd killed thirty-seven people in one night.
And Glens Kapo had been the only one with any real strength.
The only one arrogant enough to declare his name.
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