The bubble-coated ship slid gracefully through the water current, carried by the immense, cheerful Gargar, finally breaching the main air bubble of Fish-Man Island.
The sudden immersion into the vibrant, illuminated atmosphere was a dizzying change from the abyssal darkness they had left behind.
Coral structures gleamed, fish-men and merfolk, initially scattering in terror at Gargar's colossal approach, now cautiously peered from behind luminous reefs and pearlescent buildings.
As their ship gently drifted to a halt near a quiet, unoccupied pier, Robin turned to the monstrous shark-kraken.
"Gargar."
She said, her voice clear and kind, amplified by her newfound connection.
"Would you mind guarding our ship for a while? We won't be long."
Gargar's colossal head dipped in an affirmative nod, sending ripples through the surrounding water.
One of his massive, suckered tentacles, comically large for the gesture, raised almost like a salute, waving with an enthusiastic flourish.
His 'grin' seemed to widen even further, and he positioned himself protectively around their humble vessel, transforming into an imposing, living fortress, guarding it like the most precious treasure in the deep.
"Come on, Guts!"
Robin exclaimed, a rare, almost childlike excitement bubbling up within her.
She grabbed Guts's arm, her grip surprisingly firm, and began to pull him towards the pier.
Guts, his senses still on high alert from the sheer newness of their surroundings and the lingering fear among the locals, allowed himself to be tugged along. As they stepped onto the smooth, polished coral pier, he glanced back at the immense creature.
"Are you going to keep that thing as a pet?"
He grunted, a hint of his usual bluntness in his tone.
Robin immediately bristled, pulling him a little harder.
"Guts! He's not a 'thing,' and he's certainly not a pet!"
She chastised, her eyes flashing playfully.
"He's Gargar! And he's a friend!"
Guts simply gave a noncommittal shrug, letting her lead him. His eyes, though unseeing, seemed to scan the vibrant, alien landscape.
Robin, on the other hand, was utterly captivated.
Her gaze darted everywhere - the shimmering domes of coral, the graceful dance of merfolk through glowing kelp forests, the bustling marketplaces filled with exotic underwater fruits and wares.
Every detail was a marvel.
She looked back at Guts.
He remained the same ageless, stoic, unyielding figure she had known since Shells Town.
His heavy armor, the Dragonslayer on his back, his perpetually grim expression - he was a constant in her tumultuous life, a pillar of dark, unchanging resolve.
The islanders of Shells Town had grown accustomed to his ageless and intimidating presence, just as she had.
But with her new, profound encounter with the Sea Kings, a new question began to surface, one that had quietly lingered in her mind for hours.
"Guts."
She began, her voice thoughtful as they walked through a bustling plaza.
"Back on Shells Town, when I asked you why you protected me... You said my father asked you to. You didn't say much else."
She paused, turning to face him, her eyes searching his unreadable face.
"But after hearing the Sea Kings... and their talk of Poseidon being their kind... I just keep wondering. Was my father... a Fish-Man?"
Guts stopped, pondering for a few moments. His mind drifted back to the abstract, fragmented memory of the Tired God - a grey silhouette, small, only knee-high, but emanating an immense, ancient power that had planted the command to protect Robin in his very soul.
That same silhouette, now he thought of it, had possessed peculiar, almost aquatic features.
"Heh."
Guts finally grunted, a strange, knowing inflection in his voice.
"Now that you mention it... yeah. Your father... he kind of looked like a squid."
Robin blinked.
Her ability, Whisperer of the World, which subtly connected her to the innate truths of the natural world, gave a strange, almost imperceptible hum within her.
And to her utter astonishment, her senses confirmed it: what Guts said was true.
Her father, the man she never knew, the man who had supposedly sent Guts to protect her, looked like a squid.
Her jaw dropped, then snapped shut.
"A squid?!"
She exclaimed, an immediate flush of annoyance coloring her cheeks.
With a playful, exasperated huff, she reached out and punched Guts lightly on his armored bicep.
It barely registered on him, of course, but it was a familiar, affectionate gesture between them.
"So, do I look like a squid, then?!"
She demanded, her hands on her hips, half-joking, half-genuinely curious.
Guts looked at her, truly looked at her, his dark gaze seeming to peer past her present annoyance to the very core of her being.
A faint, almost tender warmth flickered in his eyes.
"No."
He said, his voice softer than usual.
"You're pretty. Just like your mother."
Robin froze, her playful irritation melting away. Her breath hitched.
The compliment, so rare and simple from Guts, and the comparison to her mother, Olvia, whom she barely remembered but deeply revered, struck a chord she hadn't known was still so vulnerable.
A genuine, radiant smile, full of unburdened happiness, blossomed on her face, illuminating her features in the soft, ambient light of Fish-Man Island. It was a smile that had been far too rare in her life of shadows and pursuit.
Their shared moment of warmth was abruptly shattered.
The bustling sounds of the market began to sour, murmurs turning into angry shouts. The vibrant colors of the coral structures seemed to dim under a sudden, oppressive tension.
From the shadowy alleyways between pearl-domed shops, a group of hulking Fish-Men emerged, their expressions twisted with aggressive contempt.
They were supremacists, their eyes burning with a hateful fire directed squarely at the human-like pair.
"Well, well, what do we have here?"
Snarled a massive Great White Shark Fish-Man, his skin scarred, his teeth filed to wicked points.
He pointed a meaty, webbed finger at Guts, then at Robin.
"Humans, defiling our home! And look at this one... the 'Devil Child' from the surface, Nico Robin, with a bounty of ฿37,000,000!"
His gaze then fell upon Guts, recognizing the sheer, terrifying presence.
"And by the deep, that's him! The 'Devil Swordsman,' Guts! A ฿300,000,000 DEAD ONLY bounty!"
His grin was predatory.
"This is our lucky day, brothers! Glory to Fish-Man supremacy! Let's send these surface-dwellers to a watery grave!"
The other supremacists, a mix of various Fish-Man species - some armed with trident, others with water pistols, and many relying on their brute strength - roared their agreement, converging on Guts and Robin, their movements surprisingly fast and agile even on land.
The surrounding civilians, both Fish-Men and Merfolk, scattered further, screaming and fleeing for cover, leaving the central plaza an arena for the brewing conflict.
Guts didn't flinch.
His grip instinctively tightened on the hilt of the Dragonslayer.
His face, already grim, hardened further.
He moved subtly, positioning himself just a half-step in front of Robin, his towering frame a shield.
"Stay behind me, Robin."
Guts growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
He didn't even draw the Dragonslayer yet, assessing the numbers and the immediate threat. He was giving them a chance to back down.
His Brand pulsed faintly. This bunch of seafood will not endanger Robin.
They didn't take it.
The Shark Fish-Man lunged first, a massive punch with gauntlet aimed squarely at Guts's head, intending to end the fight in one crushing blow.
But Guts was faster.
The Dragonslayer was off his back in a blur of black steel, a terrifying shing sound cutting through the water-dense air.
WHUMP!
The giant blade met the Fish-Man's gauntlet not with a clang, but with a horrifying, squelching impact.
The Shark Fish-Man's arm, from shoulder to fist, simply exploded into a grotesque spray of muscle, bone, and dark-red blood.
He didn't even have time to scream before Guts, already flowing into his next motion, spun the Dragonslayer in a wide, sweeping arc.
WHOOSH!
The blade whistled. Two more Fish-Men, attempting a flanking maneuver, were caught in the arc.
The Dragonslayer, immense and unforgiving, cleaved through them like butter.
One was cut clean in half at the waist, his upper torso collapsing into a gurgling mess as his lower half still stood for a terrifying moment before falling.
The other had his head beheaded in a single, sickening thwack, his body crumpling lifelessly to the coral ground.
The plaza, moments ago a vibrant center, was now slick with dark blood. A wave of horrified gasps from the hidden onlookers followed the brutal display.
The remaining supremacists faltered, their bravado momentarily evaporating at the raw, overwhelming savagery of Guts.
This wasn't just a fighter; this was a force of nature, a butcher from the darkest nightmares.
"You fools."
Robin's calm voice cut through the momentary silence, her eyes sharp. Her arms began to cross.
"You chose the wrong humans to mess with."
Dos Fleur!
Dozens of ghostly white arms sprouted from the ground around the remaining Fish-Man supremacists, wrapping around their legs, arms, and even their mouths, disarming some, restraining others, twisting them into agonizing positions.
A few tried to break free, their superhuman strength straining against the ephemeral limbs.
"Don't Move!"
Robin commanded, her voice clear.
She was using her abilities to keep the bodies suspended, preventing them from contaminating the beautiful coral streets any further with their blood.
Guts didn't waste a single movement on the restrained foes.
He moved like a shadow, a black blur of death. Those Fish-Men still struggling against Robin's hold, or those who managed to break free, found themselves facing the Dragonslayer.
WHACK!
A heavy, brutal blow, delivered with the flat of the blade, whacked a Barracuda Fish-Man, sending him flying through a pearl-encrusted stall, a ruined mess of wood and broken scales.
Sigh.
Robin can only sigh at Guts' brutality.
Another, a nimble Octopus Fish-Man with multiple tentacles, tried to use his agility to get closer to Robin.
But Robin's new connection to the creatures of the deep seemed to whisper his movements to her.
Mille Fleur: Grab!
Arms erupted from the ground directly in his path.
Only for Guts dismembering his tentacles one by one, each popping off with a sickening squelch before his blade descended, finishing the job with a brutal, clean slice.
The fight was over almost as soon as it began.
The plaza was a scene of utter devastation: shattered stalls, overturned crates, and the scattered, broken forms of the Fish-Man supremacists, either brutally dismembered by Guts's relentless blade or painfully contorted and immobilized by Robin's Devil Fruit powers.
Blood, dark against the light coral, pooled in grim rivulets.
Guts stood amidst the carnage, the Dragonslayer now resting on his armored shoulder, steam faintly rising from its immense blade.
His breathing was heavy, but his expression was as unyielding as ever.
He was the Butcher, and his welcome to Fish-Man Island had been delivered with the full force of his terror.
A new presence surged into the plaza, radiating cold, controlled fury. His form was that of a formidable white-skinned Great White Shark Fish-Man, clad in the pristine uniform of a soldier of the Neptune Army.
His eyes, devoid of warmth, surveyed the horrific scene - the dismembered bodies of his fellow Fish-Man supremacists, scattered like broken toys, their blood staining the pristine coral.
This was Hody Jones.
His face twisted in a snarl of pure rage.
"You vile surface-dwellers! How dare you desecrate Fish-Man Island with such brutality?!"
His gaze locked onto Guts, then flicked to Robin, who stood amidst the carnage, utterly composed.
"I'll show you filthy surface-dwellers! The power of fish-man! Capture them!"
He roared, drawing a gleaming, three-pronged trident.
With a powerful surge, Hody Jones lunged, his body a blur of speed, propelled by his immense strength.
His target was not the monstrous Guts, but the seemingly softer, more vulnerable Robin.
The trident thrust forward, glinting ominously, aimed directly at her chest, intending to pin her to the coral ground.
But before the trident could travel even a foot, a shadow descended.
Guts had moved.
His brand reacted.
The Dragonslayer, moments ago resting, was now a roaring, black blur.
It didn't just parry; it struck.
The immense blade, moving with impossible speed, descended from above, from a position no human could have achieved so swiftly.
Hody Jones's eyes widened in sheer, disbelieving horror, the image of the blade's terrifying trajectory burned into his final moment.
There was no sound of steel on steel, no clang of impact. Only a sickening, wet shhlick.
The Dragonslayer slashed through Hody Jones from head to his crotch, from the crown of his skull, cleanly splitting him.
His eyes remained open, frozen in disbelief, as his body, now two separate, perfectly bisected halves, slid apart with a grotesque, silent ease, tumbling to the ground with a dull thud.
Blood, dark and voluminous, welled up, quickly mixing with the scattered remnants of his comrades.
The plaza, already a scene of horror, fell into an absolute, stunned silence. The hidden onlookers gasped, some collapsing where they stood. The soldier who came with Hody Jones halted their step.
Guts stood over the divided corpse of Hody Jones, the Dragonslayer still held loosely in his hands, its immense weight seemingly nothing to him.
His unseeing eyes were fixed on the now-ruined spot where the supremacist leader had just been, his expression utterly devoid of emotion.
The Butcher had arrived. And Fish-Man Island would never be the same.