Arlong grinned wide, baring his serrated teeth.
"Finally! The tribute money, the fear of humans, the cries of this island, it all belongs to us! Let's see what those weaklings have been up to!"
Hatchan chuckled, his six arms flexing as he juggled his swords.
"Hope they didn't slack off while we were gone, Arlong! I could use a warm-up!"
Chew spat a stream of water like a bullet, blasting a seagull clean out of the sky.
"Humans are only good for serving and dying. I'll drown whoever looks at me wrong today."
Kuroobi adjusted his dark blue gi and gave a quiet nod, ever the composed martial artist.
"Order or chaos, it matters little. They'll bow again once they're reminded of their place."
Their laughter carried over the water.
But as the gates of Arlong Park came into view, the air shifted.
There was no sound of cheering grunts, no rowdy welcome.
Only silence… and the faint metallic tang that rode on the sea breeze.
-----
When Hatchan kicked open the large iron doors, the sight that met them made his grin die in his throat.
The once-proud courtyard of Arlong Park was now painted in shades of red. The bodies of their Fishman brethren lay sprawled across the tiles and shallow pools, bullet holes smoking, limbs severed by clean slashes.
Some floated lifelessly in the water. Others slumped over walls or broken pillars.
The air was thick with blood, gunpowder, and the iron taste of death.
Chew's eyes bulged, his webbed fists clenching.
"W-What the hell… happened here?! Who—who did this!?"
Kuroobi's jaw tightened, rage flickering behind his calm exterior.
"They dared to attack Arlong Park. Humans… no doubt."
Then they saw them.
At the far end of the bloodstained courtyard, two silhouettes awaited.
One sat lazily on Arlong's throne, a black revolver in hand, spinning a single bullet into place with eerie calm. Smoke coiled around him like a waiting viper.
The other, standing beside the steps, tightened a dark green bandana around his head, his eyes sharp, unflinching, and burning with challenge.
-----
The gunman spoke first, his voice low, rasped by smoke and salt.
"Took you long enough. Was starting to think Fishmen weren't as fast as the rumors said."
Zoro cracked his neck, drawing his sword.
"Guess the real show's about to start."
-----
The Fishmen behind Arlong bristled with fury.
"How dare you—!"
"Who are you bastards!?"
"You think you can stand against Arlong!?"
But Arlong himself didn't speak. His veins pulsed under his blue skin, his jagged teeth grinding together as pure wrath distorted his face.
The laughter that once echoed around his domain was gone. All that was left was the sound of his furious heartbeat pounding in his skull.
He exploded forward, launching himself off the ground with a roar.
"You filthy HUMANS! I'LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS!"
In that instant, Dez's expression didn't change. His thumb cocked back the revolver's hammer —
click.
His stance shifted subtly. His legs spread, his body coiled, his eyes narrowed into a perfect line of focus.
"—Ballistic Salvo."
The revolver came alive.
In less than a second, six gunshots tore through the air, each one fired with a whip-like twist of his arm. The bullets curved mid-flight, their paths dancing like serpents, propelled by Dez's honed control and haki-assisted precision.
The air cracked as six impact rounds, shimmering faintly with kinetic charge, slammed directly into Arlong's chest.
"Six-Shot Bullseye Impact!"
The explosion of force sent the towering Fishman flying through the park gates, splintering the heavy iron and sending dust and debris spraying into the jungle beyond.
The courtyard trembled under the shockwave.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
-----
Then chaos erupted.
"ARLONG-SAMA!"
Dozens of Fishmen roared and charged, their webbed feet splashing through blood and water as they lunged toward the two humans.
Dez exhaled smoke from his nose, rolling his shoulder as his revolver spun back into its holster.
"Guess we're doin' this the loud way."
Zoro stepped forward, his newly tightened bandana shadowing his eyes. He reached down and caught two swords that Dez had casually thrown his way. The blades were chipped, mismatched, scavenged from fallen Fishmen.
He gave them a few test swings, the metal screeching faintly as they clashed against each other.
"…Crappy," he muttered, lips curling into a grin. "But they'll do."
The first wave hit them.
Dez drew both pistols, black and white, and began to move.
Every step, every shot, every pivot was clean and deliberate. Bullets ricocheted off walls, pillars, even off the curve of Zoro's sword as the swordsman twisted in sync beside him.
The rhythm between them was wordless. Dez's gunfire opened paths, Zoro's blades cut down those who tried to flank.
When one Fishman leaped from behind to ambush Zoro, Dez tilted his pistol and fired a shot that ricocheted off the flat of Zoro's spinning sword, catching the attacker between the eyes.
Zoro smirked mid-swing.
"Not bad, gunman."
"Don't miss your swings and I won't have to save your ass," Dez shot back coolly, reloading without looking.
Bodies began to drop.
Their combined onslaught was surgical, a fusion of precision and ferocity that turned the chaos into a deadly dance.
And yet, in the distance, from the shattered gates, the sound of shifting debris echoed.
Arlong stirred.
The fight was far from over.
-----
The sound of battle echoed through the shattered halls of Arlong Park.
The clash of steel, the bark of gunfire, and the hiss of burning gunpowder mingled into a deadly rhythm.
Fishmen fell like broken waves against the shore.
Each one that lunged forward found themselves meeting either cold steel or the flash of muzzle fire.
Dez moved through the chaos like smoke through a storm, smooth, deliberate, unstoppable.
He was no longer consciously thinking. His hands, his eyes, his breathing, everything had fallen into rhythm. His mind was utterly still.
He'd always known about this feeling, this place inside him that felt like time itself slowed when the gun came up.
But now, it was different.
Now, he wasn't just predicting. He was seeing.
Every twitch of muscle, every shift in weight, every ripple of killing intent painted a clear image in his mind.
The world sharpened into lines of trajectory and intent, and he was at the center, the still point between them all.
It wasn't new. He'd had it since the start, it had just awakened fully.
"So this… is that sixth sense, huh," he murmured under his breath, spinning the revolver with a soft click as a Fishman lunged from behind.
He didn't even look. His arm swung back, gun barked once, the bullet cut through the air, ricocheted off a steel beam, and buried itself in the attacker's chest before he even got close.
Another step. Another pull of the trigger. Another life extinguished.
He wasn't aiming anymore. He didn't need to. His will alone guided the bullets.
-----
Zoro and Hatchan's duel clanged through the air, six swords against three.
The octopus Fishman's movements were chaotic, fluid, like a whirlwind of steel. His six arms spun a deadly pattern that would have overwhelmed most men.
But Zoro wasn't most men.
Each clash sent sparks flying, each missed strike another step closer to adaptation. His grin widened as he deflected a flurry and countered with two heavy slashes that forced Hatchan to stagger back.
"Six swords, huh?" Zoro said, exhaling through gritted teeth. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Blood trickled from his bandages, but his eyes burned with that familiar, unshakable fire.
------
Dez's boots splashed through blood and seawater as he spun, reloading both revolvers in one fluid motion.
Kuroobi lunged from behind, his gi drenched and his aura cold with killing intent. The martial artist's fist shimmered with water pressure, ready to crush Dez's spine.
Dez's body bent low, his instinct screaming before his mind even registered it. He flipped backward, both pistols upside down, and fired.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The bullets ricocheted off broken walls and snapped into Kuroobi's leg from behind, one tearing into the back of his knee, forcing him to collapse with a roar.
"Dirty human!" Kuroobi spat, trying to rise.
"Efficient human," Dez corrected, ejecting spent shells.
But he didn't have time to relax. A sudden whistle sliced through the air.
Chew, from across the pool, had his jaws puffed like a cannon.
A torrent of water blasted out, high-pressure bullets of liquid death that tore through stone.
Dez ducked and rolled, the torrent slashing past and exploding into the wall behind him. He pivoted mid-roll, firing a single shot that deflected one of Chew's next water bullets in midair.
The two projectiles collided, spraying steam as they vaporized each other.
Zoro, still fighting Hatchan nearby, paused just long enough to whistle.
"Show-off."
"Jealous," Dez muttered back, eyes never leaving his targets.
-----
Kuroobi roared, surging forward again despite his injured leg.
Chew leapt from his position, joining in the charge.
Dez spun both revolvers in his hands, clicking their chambers shut.
"Let's make this quick."
He kicked off the ground, flipped midair, and shouted:
"Ricochet Chain—Sixfold Execution!"
The revolvers blazed.
Six bullets erupted in rapid succession, bouncing off shattered walls, steel beams, water, and even the edges of Zoro's blades mid-swing. The shots arced around the battlefield like living things, guided by Dez's will alone.
The first bullet caught Kuroobi's good knee, shattering it.
The second ripped through Chew's shoulder.
The next four weaved through the remaining Fishmen ranks, felling them before they could even react.
The few that survived froze, trembling as Dez landed in a crouch, smoke coiling from his barrels.
His voice was low, calm, almost casual.
"You should've stayed in the sea."
He holstered one revolver, spinning the other before snapping it shut.
The air hung heavy with silence, only the crackle of gunpowder and the rhythmic sound of Zoro's blades cutting through Hatchan's last defense filled the night.
By the time Dez straightened, the bulk of the Arlong Pirates lay broken or dead, and only the lieutenants remained.
He exhaled, reloading again, the motion fluid and practiced not out of habit, but ritual.
His eyes flicked to the horizon, where dust and debris marked Arlong's inevitable return.
"Guess round two's about to start."
Zoro sheathed one sword, smirking despite the sweat and blood on his face.
"Heh. You take too much fun out of it, gunman."
Dez tilted his hat back slightly, a half-grin forming under the shadow of his brim.
"Trust me, Zorro… I'm just warming up."
The sun began to dip, its orange light mixing with the blood-soaked waters of Arlong Park.
The true monster was on his way back and the hunt wasn't over yet.