The slave trader leader had not expected the Fish-Man to cause such chaos. Dozens of men were dead, and many more were injured.
Yet the stronger the slave proved to be, the more delighted he felt.
Strength meant value.
And in this world, who was more generous than the Celestial Dragons?
Most slaves processed through the Sabaody Archipelago were ultimately contracted by the Celestial Dragons and shipped to Mary Geoise atop the Red Line.
If there was one place in the world with the highest concentration of slaves, it was the Red Line.
Contrary to common belief, people lived there in great numbers. Over centuries, countless slaves had been brought up. After generations of forced labor and reproduction, a nation directly controlled by the World Government had formed. Its population accounted for nearly one-tenth of the world.
Aside from the descendants of high-ranking officials, nobles, and the so-called "Creators," most of the remaining population were descendants of slaves.
Slaves for generations.
That was also where the Celestial Dragons' oppression ran deepest. Why would beings who lived comfortably in the sky descend without reason? Only to acquire high-quality slaves.
Or to visit affiliated kingdoms, reinforcing political control. The Celestial Dragons possessed unimaginable authority. Their status was treated as sacred.
Because of that, countless tragedies occurred. The destruction of both affiliated and non-affiliated nations often hinged on a single Celestial Dragon's whim.
A minor displeasure could mean the annihilation of a kingdom.
And the World Government tolerated it all.
The second largest concentration of slaves existed in the so-called Bridge Kingdom, the "Laborers' Nation."
A bridge-based country in East Blue, construction had begun seven hundred years ago under the direct order of the Celestial Dragons. Most of its population consisted of criminals and citizens of nations that refused to join the World Government.
They labored every day under brutal conditions.
It was also a prime recruitment ground for the Revolutionary Army. Hatred toward the World Government and Celestial Dragons had long reached its peak there. Only the stationed government forces and the lack of weapons prevented open rebellion.
Given opportunity, millions could rise.
Despite high annual death rates, new slaves and criminals were continuously sent there. Over seven centuries, the population had grown from tens of thousands to millions.
The Celestial Dragons' wickedness truly knew no bounds.
The slave trader leader's excitement intensified as he stared at the recaptured Fish-Man. Even with heavy losses, it was worth it.
All he needed now was to contact a buyer and connect with a Celestial Dragon.
Sell him.
The Fish-Man struggled violently inside the cage, slamming against the bars.
Then—
A faint sound.
Someone had appeared beside him.
Without hesitation, he lunged, baring his jagged teeth and biting down. Even if he died, he would tear flesh from his enemies.
But he bit nothing.
The figure shifted slightly, effortlessly avoiding the attack.
"Do you want to get out?" a quiet voice asked, audible only to him.
The Fish-Man froze.
This was not an enemy.
He did not know how the man had appeared inside the cage, but this was hope.
Of course he wanted to escape. If not for the iron balls shackled to his legs, he would have already fled. As a Fish-Man, once he reached the sea, he would be free.
He almost spoke but caught himself. The traders outside might hear.
He nodded heavily.
"Join us," the man said with a faint smile, "and I will give you a chance."
Join?
What did it matter? Could anything be worse than this?
Mog Ratoon nodded without hesitation. The blood-red hue in his eyes began to subside slightly, replaced by anticipation.
"I will remove your shackles and give you one chance to escape. As proof of your allegiance, kill every slave trader here. If you die or get captured again, you are worthless. I will not save you twice."
The figure vanished.
For a brief second, Ratoon wondered if it had been a hallucination.
Then—
The shackles disappeared.
The chains binding his body.
The bullets lodged in his flesh.
The iron balls weighing down his legs.
All gone.
He was free.
The man's request echoed in his mind.
Kill them.
His blood surged once more, but this time with purpose.
Back at the restaurant, Nelson returned, smiling.
"It's done. Let's watch. I hope he survives."
It had been Nelson who appeared in the cage. And it had been Nelson who stole every restraint from the Fish-Man's body.
Outside, the slave traders reorganized, preparing to move again. The onlookers lost interest. The show was over.
Or so they thought.
Suddenly—
Boom!
The cage exploded outward again.
The massive figure re-emerged.
"What?! Wasn't he locked up?" someone screamed.
The leader stared in disbelief. "Where are his chains? Where are the shackles?!"
"They're not inside either, boss!"
Twice now, something impossible had happened. First the tranquilizer guns vanished. Now the restraints.
This was no accident.
"Who's interfering?!" the leader snarled.
He had no time to think.
"Die!" Ratoon roared, charging forward.
He seized two traders and crushed them effortlessly. He stomped another into the ground.
The bystanders scattered further.
"He still needs training," Sladar muttered, watching critically.
The Fish-Man had immense physical talent but fought without structure. Against weak opponents, brute force sufficed. Against real powerhouses, it would not.
"Then he's yours," Teach replied with a smile.
Sladar nodded. As another towering powerhouse exceeding six meters himself, he was well suited to guide the seven-meter Fish-Man.
"It's enough for now," Laffitte observed calmly. "They cannot threaten him."
The slave trader leader's strength was comparable to a pirate worth thirty million Berries. Impressive among civilians, insignificant here.
"Attack! Break his limbs if you have to!" the leader shouted, firing at Ratoon.
Gunfire erupted.
Ratoon moved swiftly despite his size. Most bullets missed. Those that struck only fueled him further.
The scent of blood ignited something primal in his veins.
He craved it.
He grabbed a trader and bit down, tearing off an arm. The man's scream ended abruptly.
Kill.
Kill.
He was not mindless. He was savoring it.
The traders attempted to restrain him again with chains, but this time he anticipated it. He leapt high, landing beside one chain wielder. Terror filled the man's eyes.
Ratoon killed him instantly.
He seized the chain and yanked. Another trader was flung through the air. Ratoon drove his knee upward, sending the man flying lifelessly into the distance.
"Scatter!"
Too late.
Wrapping the chain around his fist, Ratoon swung it like a whip. Iron links cracked bones and shattered skulls.
The traders' confidence collapsed. One by one, fear replaced greed.
When their leader fell, killed with terror frozen in his eyes, the last thread of order snapped.
The remaining traders fled.
Ratoon chased them down mercilessly. The chain lashed with terrifying accuracy, as though he had mastered it mid-battle.
Soon, silence fell.
Every slave trader lay dead.
Ratoon stood amid blood and corpses, chest heaving. His body was soaked crimson. His scarlet eyes glowed against the carnage.
Around him, the ground had turned into a slaughterhouse.
From a distance, some onlookers raised Visual Den Den Mushi, recording everything. Selling dramatic footage could bring a tidy profit.
Ratoon waited.
Then Teach and his crew stepped out of the restaurant.
All eyes turned toward them.
Nelson smiled and waved. "Come."
The voice was unmistakable.
Ratoon's fierce expression softened in recognition. Earlier, beneath the black cloth, he had not clearly seen Nelson's face.
Now he understood.
The force he had just pledged himself to was none other than the Dark Night Pirates.
After a brief stunned pause, excitement flickered across his face.
Without hesitation, Mog Ratoon followed behind Teach and the others.