"Huh? Boss Jerry, what do you mean by 'brainless'?" Skull asked, momentarily confused by Jerry's muttered comment.
Jerry shook his head dismissively. "Nothing important. Just tell me what's happening with Wallace."
"Right, here's what I know..." Skull launched into his explanation, his voice growing more urgent with each detail.
The situation had begun the previous day, shortly after Wallace had parted ways with Jerry and the others. Since it was such a rare opportunity to return to his homeland, Wallace had decided to visit Fishman Street, the rough neighborhood where he'd grown up before being captured and sold into slavery.
Fishman Street was home to many of his childhood friends, relatives, and neighbors—people he hadn't been able to contact since beginning his life as a pirate on the surface world. The prospect of reuniting with his old community had been too appealing to pass up.
Wallace had quickly located several of his closest friends from his youth, and the reunion had been everything he'd hoped for. The excitement of seeing familiar faces after so long had been overwhelming for everyone involved, and they'd immediately made plans to celebrate with food, drinks, and hours of catching up.
The evening had started innocently enough. Wallace, emboldened by the alcohol and genuinely eager to share his experiences, had begun regaling his friends with stories from his adventures on the surface. He'd painted vivid pictures of the vast skies above the ocean, described the strange and wonderful customs of human societies, and shared tales of the incredible diversity of people and places he'd encountered during his travels with the Spade Pirates.
In his enthusiasm and slightly intoxicated state, Wallace had been completely focused on entertaining his audience and hadn't noticed the subtle changes in the atmosphere around their table. Two of his childhood friends had begun exchanging meaningful glances and whispering to each other during his stories. Their expressions had grown increasingly uncomfortable as Wallace continued to speak positively about humans and the surface world.
Eventually, one of these friends had excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to step outside for some fresh air. Wallace, caught up in his storytelling and assuming it was just a normal bathroom break, had continued his animated descriptions without giving the departure a second thought.
However, the friend who'd left hadn't been seeking fresh air at all. Instead, he'd gone to contact certain individuals who would be very interested in hearing about a Fishman who'd been spreading "human propaganda" throughout their territory.
Wallace's first indication that something was wrong came when his absent friend returned—but he wasn't alone. A large group of hostile-looking Fishmen had surrounded the establishment, and their intentions were clearly not peaceful.
Before Wallace could even process what was happening, the mob had rushed their table. Despite his considerable strength as a Scorpion Fishman, Wallace had been caught completely off guard by the coordinated attack. The combination of alcohol in his system, his relaxed state, and the sheer number of attackers had made resistance impossible.
He'd been knocked unconscious and bound before he could mount any meaningful defense.
When Wallace had finally awakened, he'd found himself in a dark, cramped cell surrounded by a circle of menacing figures. These were the core members of what would eventually become the New Fishman Pirates—a supremacist organization led by the fanatical Hody Jones.
What followed had been less of an interrogation and more of a predetermined sentencing. Hody Jones and his followers had already decided Wallace's fate the moment they'd heard about his "crimes" against their racial ideology.
"The thing is," Skull continued, his voice heavy with frustration, "these guys have grown up wild in Fishman Street, surrounded by nothing but hatred and resentment toward humans. They genuinely believe that any Fishman who makes friends with humans or speaks positively about surface dwellers is a traitor to their entire species."
Jerry's expression darkened as he listened. He was familiar with this type of extremist thinking, and it never led anywhere good.
Skull went on to explain that Hody Jones and his gang considered anyone who advocated for peaceful coexistence with humans to be enemies worthy of death. This included not only individual Fishmen like Wallace but also prominent figures such as the Ryugu Kingdom's royal family and even Jinbe, the former Fishman Street boss who had become a Warlord of the Sea.
In their twisted worldview, Wallace's membership in a human pirate crew and his enthusiastic stories about the surface world constituted the ultimate betrayal. The fact that he'd been openly sharing positive experiences about humans made him an active threat to their supremacist ideology.
"But here's the really sick part," Skull added, his voice dropping to a disgusted whisper. "They want to make an example of him. Since Wallace's crew—that's us—has been making headlines lately, they figure executing him publicly will help establish their credibility as a serious organization."
Jerry felt a cold anger building in his chest as the full picture became clear. This wasn't just about Wallace personally—it was about sending a message to anyone who might dare to question their extremist beliefs.
After hearing the complete story, Jerry found himself struggling to comprehend the sheer irrationality of Hody Jones's mindset. In Jerry's opinion, the great white shark Fishman was essentially a product of environmental poisoning—someone who'd been so thoroughly corrupted by the toxic atmosphere of Fishman Street that he'd become a walking embodiment of racial hatred.
The most frustrating aspect was that Hody Jones himself had never been directly wronged by humans. His entire worldview was built on secondhand hatred and inherited prejudice, passed down through generations of Fishman Street's most bitter residents. He'd been raised in an echo chamber of resentment, never exposed to positive examples of human-Fishman cooperation.
Jerry reflected on how this compared to other supremacist figures he knew about. Arlong, who was currently terrorizing Cocoyasi Village in the East Blue, at least had personal experiences with human cruelty during his time as a slave. Arlong's hatred, while still destructive and wrong, had identifiable roots in genuine trauma.
Hody Jones, by contrast, was driven by pure ideological hatred with no personal foundation. His animosity wasn't directed at specific individuals who had wronged him—it encompassed an entire species based solely on their race.
What made Hody's extremism particularly dangerous was its complete disconnect from reality. While he claimed to be fighting for the advancement of Fishman rights, many of his actions actually harmed his own people and community. His willingness to destroy fellow Fishmen who disagreed with his ideology revealed the hollow nature of his supposed racial loyalty.
"Boss Jerry, that's everything I know," Skull concluded urgently. "The most important thing right now is getting to the Sea Forest and rescuing Wallace before it's too late!"
As if summoned by their conversation, a familiar voice began shouting from the direction of the port.
"Brother Jerry! Brother Skull! Something terrible has happened!"
Jerry looked up to see Dora swimming rapidly toward their ship, her face flushed with exertion and panic as she called out to them.
"Dora, what's wrong?" Jerry asked, though he strongly suspected he already knew the answer.
"Huff... huff... Brother Wallace..." Dora gasped, struggling to catch her breath after her frantic swim to reach them.
"I already know about Wallace's situation," Jerry said grimly, helping the young mermaid onto the deck. "I'm planning to head over there immediately."
He turned to Skull with a decisive expression. "Skull, I need you to track down Ace and the other crew members. Tell them to gather everyone and follow as quickly as possible."
"Wait, you're planning to go alone?" Skull asked, concern evident in his voice. "Is that really wise?"
"Don't worry," Jerry replied confidently, placing a reassuring hand on Skull's shoulder. "I'm just going to scout the situation and see what we're dealing with. You guys can catch up once you've assembled everyone. Trust me—I know how to handle myself."
"Alright, but please don't do anything reckless," Skull urged. "Wait for backup before making any major moves, okay?"
"I'll be careful," Jerry promised, then turned to address Dora. "Since you're here, could you show me the way to the Sea Forest?"
"Of course, Brother Jerry! I know the fastest route, but it's difficult to explain with words. I should guide you there personally," Dora replied eagerly.
"To reach the Sea Forest, do we need to travel through open water?" Jerry asked, suddenly remembering the unique geography of Fishman Island.
"Yes," Dora confirmed. "The Sea Forest is an underwater grove located northeast of Fishman Street. We can either swim there directly through the ocean or use bubble transportation, but swimming would be much faster."
Jerry nodded decisively. "Then we'll swim. You lead the way."
It occurred to him that waiting for Ace and the others might take too long, especially if they needed to coordinate bubble transportation for the entire crew. Time was clearly of the essence, and Jerry's aquatic abilities would allow him to move much more quickly through the water than a group traveling by conventional means.
"Let's go," Jerry said, his voice carrying the quiet determination of someone who'd made an irrevocable decision. "Wallace is counting on us."
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