From the way Oboro and Dom were dressed, the old man thought they were just another group of naive pirates who had stumbled onto the island from wherever they came from. This was the Grand Line, after all, and every day brought self-righteous young men from across the four seas, breaking into these waters with dreams of glory and conquest, only to meet their inevitable doom in the crushing reality of this place.
The pressure to survive on the Grand Line was unlike anything found on the four seas. Most pirates never even reached the Sabaody Archipelago; hell, many didn't make it halfway along their chosen route before circumstances forced them to abandon their ambitions altogether. Those who survived often did so by compromising every ideal they'd once held sacred.
The very nature of piracy led crews to commit crimes and cause trouble wherever possible, always putting their own immediate interests first. On Bona Island, it wasn't uncommon for new faces to appear and attempt to challenge the power of the Slick Pirates, their eyes blazing with a fearless determination that spoke more of ignorance than courage.
As for the final outcome of such challenges... well, there was no need to elaborate.
The old man could tell from Dom's quick, precise execution of the patrol guard that both men possessed real skill. Their strength was well above average, at least by the standards of novice pirates. But on the Grand Line, many problems couldn't be solved by individual skills alone, the complications here were labyrinthine in their complexity.
Of course, there was always the possibility that these two masked figures had been sent by some larger organization to investigate the situation on the island. But the most likely scenario remained that they were simply pirates, acting with the characteristic recklessness and poor planning that defined most crews.
What truly shocked the old man was Oboro's apparent knowledge of certain secrets regarding Crocodile. This revelation indicated that the young man standing before him was far from ordinary, someone with connections or information that should not have been accessible to a random pirate.
He himself had developed a limited exchange with Crocodile due to his own unique experiences, but those interactions should remain buried in the past.
"Since you know that the Slick Pirates are involved with him..." the old man said carefully, glancing at the corpse before continuing, "you should leave quickly before reinforcements arrive. They maintain regular contact with their subordinates all over the island. The moment communication is lost, they will immediately send teams to investigate the situation."
He remained deliberately vague, never saying Crocodile's name out loud. Such caution had kept him alive for so long.
Oboro had made an educated guess, but the old man's reaction confirmed his suspicions. The only power that could inspire such reverent fear in someone of this age and experience on the Grand Line would be one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. The firmness in the old man's tone, combined with their current location in the first half of the Grand Line, made the connection obvious. Even pirate crews returning from the New World rarely had such absolute influence over local affairs, despite their prestigious résumés.
Crocodile had established himself in Alabasta, encouraging rebellion within the kingdom while systematically destabilizing its government. Such elaborate schemes required massive funding to sustain, necessitating numerous secret alliances and organizations that could provide ongoing financial support. This was evident in his casino operations in Alabasta, the creation of Baroque Works, and even his "Little Garden" trap designed to rob ambitious new pirates of their treasure.
Crocodile's "Utopia Operation" served as a cover for his real goal: to obtain Pluton, one of the Ancient Weapons.
For a businessman like Crocodile, profit was the only moral compass that mattered. In many ways, he and Doflamingo were cut from the same cloth, true monsters with human faces, cold and ruthless in their calculations.
Exploiting, squeezing, and ultimately destroying a small island meant nothing to him. What mattered was how much value this island could generate before its resources were exhausted.
After hearing the warning, Oboro simply walked away, Dom falling in step beside him. They had made their decision regarding the old man's advice, they were on their way to the city.
"Hmph." The old man made no effort to stop her.
He had offered his kindness by warning them. What these two did with the information was their own business. If they wanted to march to their deaths, that was their prerogative.
"You..." Oboro paused before they were out of earshot, turning to study the old man's weathered features. "You were once part of his crew, weren't you?"
The old man's face shifted almost imperceptibly, but that slight change was all the confirmation he needed.
Understanding flickered in Oboro's eyes as the pieces clicked into place.
A shiver ran down the old man's spine. He couldn't identify any specific information he had revealed about the Sand Crocodile, but somehow this stranger had seen through to the truth. Such a perception required not only a meticulous mind and a sharp intellect, but also a knowledge of historical events that few possessed.
"Boss... who are you talking about?" Dom asked after a moment, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
"Crocodile," Oboro replied with casual certainty.
"This island belongs to him?"
Dom was no longer as shocked as he had been at the mention of the Seven Warlords. His recent experiences had broadened his understanding of the power structures that controlled their world.
"The Slick Pirates are probably working with him, though they may not know the identity of their ultimate benefactor," Oboro explained as they walked. "Crocodile wouldn't reveal his true involvement so easily. What he's planning isn't exactly honorable work, and if the World Government discovered his plans, it would cause serious complications. That's why so little information about his operations reaches the outside world."
He jerked his thumb back toward the mine. "The old man is no longer young, but his mind and instincts remain sharp. He still has considerable skill, rare for someone to reach his age and still retain such abilities. Generally, people like him don't end up enslaved in remote places like this."
Oboro's analytical mind continued to work through the implications. "Over twenty years ago, Crocodile challenged Whitebeard in the New World and suffered a devastating defeat. I don't know if all of his crew from that time perished, but some must have survived. Perhaps after that battle, Crocodile saw them clearly for what they truly were, burdens holding him back from his ultimate goals."
"Someone's coming," Dom interrupted, his enhanced senses picking up movement on the horizon.
Swaying figures appeared in the distance, moving purposefully toward their position.
Oboro slipped his hands into his pockets with casual indifference. "Take care of them."
"No problem," Dom replied with a bloodthirsty grin.
He spun his Nichirin blade with practiced ease, leaning forward before exploding into motion with the speed and grace of a hunting cheetah.
Bang! Bang!
The approaching pirates spotted the intruder coming at them with terrifying speed and immediately opened fire. Some drew melee weapons, their training kicking in despite their obvious fear.
But these novices were no match for Dom's enhanced abilities.
Before Oboro even reached the battlefield, he saw Dom's shadow move with preternatural fluidity between the opposing combatants. After a few deadly exchanges, the battle that had just begun was over.
Oboro's boots splashed through the pools of blood as he stepped over the scattered corpses, and Dom fell into formation beside him after cleaning his blade.
Though Dom had fought life-and-death battles alongside Oboro and their journey had been filled with harrowing danger, nothing could diminish the exhilaration of his newfound power. He felt supremely confident now, basking in the validation that reality continued to provide through these victories.
The person who had given him this "new life" walked beside him, and Dom's gratitude burned like a flame in his chest.
The city was only a few miles away, close enough that the sounds of their battles should have been audible to anyone who listened carefully.
But even over such a short distance, the Slick Pirates sent wave after wave of reinforcements.
From the expendable foot soldiers sent first to the officers who arrived later, they all fell to Dom's relentless onslaught. His fighting style, combined with Oboro's spatial manipulation skills when necessary, made them nearly unstoppable as a team.
Although Dom had worked as an assassin before, his physical limitations had severely limited his effectiveness. Now that his body had been enhanced by Oboro's blood card transformation, combined with the combat experience he'd gained through their trials together, his overall abilities had reached professional standards. At the very least, he could hold his own anywhere in the first half of the Grand Line.
After wasting considerable time eliminating the Slick Pirates' response teams, more than an hour passed before Oboro and Dom finally stood on the main street of Bona Town.
The thoroughfare was bustling with activity despite the violence on the island's outskirts. Pirates mingled with merchants and their hired guards, while shops of varying sizes lined both sides of the street. Most of the establishments catered to the entertainment industry, offering services to those who stopped temporarily to rest and relieve the accumulated stress of life at sea.
In a tavern about ten yards away, two separate pirate crews had apparently gotten into a fight over excessive alcohol consumption. The locals seemed unsurprised by such displays, simply stepping aside to avoid being drawn into someone else's conflict.
"Boss," Dom said suddenly, his voice trembling with barely controlled emotion.
Oboro followed his companion's pointing finger and walked in contemplative silence to the indicated location.
They had stopped in front of a brothel that was open despite the daylight. Several women in gaudy clothing and heavy makeup stood at the entrance, calling out to potential customers with practiced enthusiasm.
However, none of the men paid any attention to the working women. Their full attention was captured by two wanted posters nailed to the wall of the establishment.
One showed Oboro's scarred face, while the other showed Dom's transformed appearance. Just like the bounties they'd seen in the Sabaody Archipelago, the bounty amounts remained unchanged.
"I didn't expect our faces to reach even this remote location," Oboro mused, the corner of his mouth turning up. "Marine Headquarters maintains impressive control over the first half of the Grand Line."
These posters had definitely not been put up by Marine personnel, but rather by local business owners trying to avoid trouble. The message was clear: these two individuals were dangerous enough that their presence should be reported immediately.
After a brief period of reconnaissance, Dom emerged from a nearby shop with a newspaper, which he handed to Oboro without comment. They had come to the island in search of information about their current situation and the state of the world in general.
The date on the publication was refreshingly recent, indicating that news from the outside world still reached this remote location with reasonable speed.
Dom's face was flushed with excitement, his hands trembling as he struggled to keep his composure. Obviously, he had already read the contents of the newspaper and was deeply affected by what he'd learned.
Oboro glanced through the pages, feeling his own heartbeat increase as he processed the information.
Big News Morgans had outdone themselves.
The front page headline was devoted entirely to their actions in the Sabaody Archipelago, and the accompanying text had been crafted with rhetorical flourishes that elevated their deeds to unprecedented heights of historical significance.
"The bounties have not increased because the World Government is still unsure whether we are dead or alive," Oboro remarked after scanning several articles. He tossed the newspaper aside with casual disdain. "God slayers? They're not gods, just privileged parasites. Don't flatter these pieces of garbage, Morgans."
The reports made no mention of the subsequent actions or consequences of the Marines, suggesting that the World Government was attempting to "cold-handle" the entire situation by minimizing its apparent significance.
"Get out of the way!"
"Move, damn it!"
Suddenly, the relaxed atmosphere on the street turned to palpable tension as a large group of armed figures rushed toward Oboro and Dom's position.
The force approaching was substantial, clearly a coordinated effort rather than a spontaneous response.
The civilians immediately recognized the danger and began to flee in all directions, their faces etched with the kind of practiced fear that spoke of frequent exposure to such violence.
The uniformity of the attackers' clothing made their affiliation obvious, each wearing the distinctive snake pattern that marked them as members of the Slick Pirates, the current rulers of Bona Island.
"Meat Grinder Mai Peng!" whispered a frightened observer.
"And the decapitator Zidar!" another added in hushed tones. "Both of the Slick Pirates' trump cards have been used, what the hell happened?"
"Let's get out of here, don't look!" a merchant urged his companions.
As the crowd dispersed and shopkeepers began to secure their businesses, the once-bustling street quickly emptied. Only Oboro and Dom remained standing calmly in the middle of what had become an impromptu arena.
"You've got some balls, I'll give you that," shouted one of the two leaders, a swordsman in ornate armor whose long white hair caught the afternoon sunlight. His handsome features were marred by a cruel sneer as he studied the intruders who had dared to challenge his organization's authority.
"Killing our people and then walking openly into the city? That takes either unbelievable courage or unbelievable stupidity."
What immediately caught Oboro's attention was the weapon hanging from the man's waist. Judging by the scabbard's distinctive shape and size, the blade inside was extremely slender, probably a rapier designed for fencing rather than the crude cutlasses favored by most pirates.
His companion represented the complete opposite end of the physical spectrum.
The second leader appeared to be a wrestler or strongman, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that spoke of incredible physical strength. His hands alone were massive enough to crush a man's skull, and his overall height had to exceed ten feet, marking him as either a member of an unusual race or a human blessed with extraordinary genetics.
Even at first glance, his presence exuded the kind of oppressive menace that could break weaker wills through intimidation alone.
The contrast between the two officers was striking, finesse versus brute force, elegance versus raw power. Together, they represented the full spectrum of combat expertise the Slick Pirates could bring to bear against their enemies.
Oboro studied both men with analytical detachment, already beginning to formulate strategies for the confrontation that was about to unfold. Despite being outnumbered by what seemed to be the entire strength of the island's ruling pirate crew, he was not particularly worried about the outcome.
After all they had survived, the escape from the Sabaody Archipelago, the crushing depths of the ocean, the month-long voyage hidden in the digestive system of a Sea King, a fight against second-rate pirates seemed almost anticlimactic.
But on the Grand Line, appearances could be deceiving. Even seemingly minor threats could prove deadly if underestimated, and Crocodile's backing meant that these pirates might have resources or skills beyond their apparent strength.
The game was about to begin, and Oboro was eager to see what surprises the defenders of Bona Island might have in store.