Axe-Hand Morgan, a man who usually presented a cold, stern, and tyrannical demeanor to the world, now wore a face full of ingratiating, obsequious smiles.
It was a grotesque, jarring transformation.
He strode forward, his massive axe-hand held respectfully at his side, his human hand gesturing expansively toward the ten heavy chests his men were carrying.
"You must be the new Inspector General, sir! A pleasure to welcome you to my humble town," Morgan boomed, his voice attempting a warmth it was incapable of.
"I am Captain Morgan of Shells Town. These," he gested to the boxes, "are just a small token of my appreciation for your long journey. A welcoming gift. Please, accept them, Major Lancelot."
Observing this display, Lancelot raised a single, cynical eyebrow.
He had to admit, for a brute, Morgan understood a thing or two about the real social niceties of the World Government's upper echelons.
Just look—ten large chests, not five, right off the bat, presented publicly as a "token."
No doubt, they were filled to the brim with Berries, gold, and other treasures.
It was a handsome, straightforward bribe.
But... Lancelot wasn't here for a simple payoff.
What he wanted was all of Shells Town.
This little offering, while substantial, couldn't satisfy his ambitions.
So, Lancelot didn't even look at the chests. Instead, he shot Gin a single, meaningful glance.
Gin, who was now perfectly attuned to his master's silent commands, immediately understood.
He turned around, walked back to the bound and gagged Kuro, and unceremoniously hauled the unconscious pirate captain to his feet.
He dragged him forward and dumped him on the cobblestones right in front of Captain Morgan.
"This..."
Morgan's fawning, greedy smile froze on his face.
He recognized the man on the ground at a glance.
How could he not? This was "Hundred Plans" Kuro.
This was the man who had, three years ago, supposedly been defeated by him.
It was by "capturing" this very pirate that he had risen to power, becoming the base commander of Shells Town's Branch 153 and eventually a Captain.
This was also the man whose crew had crushed his jaw, forcing him to wear the grotesque steel contraption he now used.
So, even if he forgot everyone else in the world, he would never forget this man.
"You... you... you..." Morgan stammered, his one human eye bulging in sheer, unadulterated panic. His carefully constructed world was crumbling.
"Weren't you... already... already... handed over to Lieutenant Commander KiKi from headquarters? How... how could you possibly be here?"
His expression, once confident, had shifted to one of pure, naked shock as he pointed a trembling finger at the unconscious Kuro.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that any pirate of this caliber who fell into Headquarters' hands would be sent directly to Impel Down.
That was a place where one only entered, never left. No one had ever walked out of there alive.
Seeing Morgan's utter breakdown, Lancelot couldn't help but feel a fleeting twinge of... not sympathy, perhaps, but historical understanding.
This man, Morgan, was a tragic figure in his own right.
He was once a passionate rookie soldier, filled with a sense of justice, not unlike the recruits Lancelot himself now commanded.
But during that fateful encounter with Kuro, his entire squad was massacred, and his jaw was crushed underfoot by the pirate captain.
Kuro had played a direct role in turning him into the monster he was now.
It was Kuro who ordered his subordinate, Jango, to use his hypnotic powers on the traumatized Morgan, making him believe he had single-handedly captured the infamous pirate.
He had then handed over a disguised, hypnotized Jango (impersonating Kuro) to the Marines and thus became the celebrated hero, the new commander of Marine Branch 153.
It was also Jango's lingering hypnosis that had warped his personality, gradually twisting his trauma and ambition into the sinister, shameless, and violent tyrant he had become.
But, Lancelot concluded, no matter what the origin story, it could never offset the atrocities he had committed over the years.
His reign of terror in Shells Town and his corruption of the 153rd Branch were his own.
Lancelot's expression hardened, and his voice cut through the tense silence, amplified by his superhuman physique to carry across the entire town square.
"Axe-Hand Morgan!" he declared, his voice a hammer of judgment. "I now arrest you, in the name of the World Government and the office of the East Blue Inspector General! You are charged with deceiving Marine Headquarters, conspiring with pirates, and fabricating the capture of the notorious criminal 'Hundred Plans' Kuro. You are also charged with the countless crimes you have committed over the years, ruling Shells Town and the 153rd Branch through extremely vicious, tyrannical means, plunging its citizens into misery. Do you have any objections?"
"WHAT?!"
As soon as Lancelot spoke, a tidal wave of shock rolled through the square.
Not only were the Marine soldiers of Branch 153—the ones who had accompanied Morgan—completely stunned, but the onlookers, the terrified townspeople who had been watching from the sides of the street, all widened their eyes in disbelief.
Their faces were filled with a sudden, fragile, disbelieving hope, as if they had just heard the most impossible thing in the world.
Morgan, however, felt a different kind of shock. His panic was instantly vaporized by a surge of pure, indignant rage.
His face darkened, and his one good eye narrowed to a slit.
"What did you say?"
Over the past three years, he had been the king of this island.
He was the law.
When he spoke, who dared to oppose him?
Today, lowering his posture to welcome this new inspector, bowing and scraping and offering ten chests of treasure—this was already his absolute bottom line.
If it weren't for the other party's identity as the Inspector General, a political shark with connections to Mariejois, he would have long since chopped him to death with his axe.
"If you need more treasures, just say so," Morgan growled, his fists clenching, the metal of his axe-hand grinding.
"I can have a few more chests brought over. Ten more. Twenty more. Name your price, Captain."
This was his final limit, the last chance he was giving Lancelot. If this inspector remained insatiably greedy, if he pushed this "Kuro" nonsense any further, Morgan wouldn't hesitate to take drastic action.
Branch 153 and Shells Town were his.
His men were loyal to him.
Even if this inspector and his two flunkies killed him, his men would kill them.
And even if someone came to investigate later, he would destroy the evidence, kill the witnesses, and leave no trace.
What could they possibly uncover?
'Hah! Once I take you down, not just these few chests, but the entire 153rd Branch and all of Shells Town will be mine.' Lancelot thought, his amusement palpable.
He could clearly see the change in Morgan, the shift from feigned obsequiousness to murderous intent.
He sneered coldly.
What level was Morgan, after all? He was about as strong as Alvida was before she ate the Smooth-Smooth Fruit, a one-trick brute relying solely on brute force.
But among those present—Lancelot, a Six Powers master with a Fishman bloodline; Gin, a 12-million-Beri veteran now mastering Soru; and Zoro, a demonic swordsman who had just taken down an 18-million-Beri captain—which one of them wasn't leagues beyond this small-town tyrant?
To even think of killing intent toward him? How utterly, pathetically, foolish.
"You're asking for death!" Morgan, misinterpreting Lancelot's silence as indecision, finally flew into a rage. He would not be extorted and humiliated.
Without another word, he swung the giant, heavy axe attached to his severed arm, aiming to cleave Lancelot in two from the shoulder down.
Lancelot neither dodged nor avoided it. He didn't even draw his sword.
He merely stated, his voice cold.
"Take him down."
Such a man wasn't even worthy of him taking action personally.
Gin, who had been standing to the side, immediately moved to intercept.
He didn't even bother with his tonfas.
He simply met the attack with Tekkai, his body hardening like steel.
The giant axe slammed violently into Gin's shoulder and... stopped.
It bounced off with a dull clang, as if it had struck an anvil.
Gin only staggered slightly from the sheer momentum.
Morgan, however, his arm rattling from the impossible recoil, was sent reeling as if he had been the one struck by a heavy blow.
He stumbled back several steps before steadying himself, his axe-hand trembling.
"How... How is this possible?!" he exclaimed in shock.
It wasn't that he was overly arrogant; in the entire East Blue, among all the Marines, he was considered one of the top fighters in terms of raw, brute strength.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have been assigned such a wealthy, desirable post as Shells Town.
Many branches were established on barren, worthless islands.
But he never expected... he never... expected that he couldn't even withstand a single blow from one of the inspector's subordinates.
Only then, his confidence shattered, did he take a closer, more desperate look at Gin.
Originally, a mere Ensign couldn't possibly draw his attention.
But upon closer inspection, his expression immediately turned extremely grave.
Because he had now, finally, recognized who this Ensign wearing a naval uniform was.
The former Krieg Pirates' Combat Commander. The "Man Demon," Gin.
"Soru!"
Before Morgan could even process this new, terrifying piece of information, Gin vanished from his original position.
He reappeared instantly on Morgan's left side.
With a lightning-fast swing of his iron-shod tonfa, which he had now drawn, he struck Morgan's left ribs directly.
"Crunch..."
Under Gin's immense strength, amplified by the high-speed movement, Morgan's ribs were shattered instantly.
The excruciating, explosive pain forced Morgan to clutch his left side, a strangled scream dying in his throat as he knelt on one knee.
Then, a mouthful of fresh, red blood sprayed from his mouth onto the cobblestones.
"How... is this... possible?"
The marine soldiers of Branch 153 and the townspeople of Shells Town who witnessed this scene all gaped in utter astonishment.
Their minds were blank.
For three years, Captain Morgan had been the symbol of absolute, terrifying invincibility in both Branch 153 and Shells Town.
Yet now... he knelt so helplessly before someone else, appearing utterly, hopelessly, vulnerable.
"Hehehe..." Gin let out a disdainful sneer, his old pirate ruthlessness showing through.
With strength like this, even before mastering Soru, he could have easily handled this brute.
That's right.
Gin could now use Soru at a basic, functional level.
However, due to his incomplete mastery, he could only use it three or four times in a single battle.
Otherwise, the strain on his legs, the sheer concussive force of kicking the air ten times in an instant, would be too much for his feet to withstand.
Even so, his raw talent for the Six Styles had greatly astonished Lancelot.
"Sha sha sha..."
At that exact moment, a peculiar, scraping laugh sounded from a nearby alley.
"Hmm?"
Lancelot, Gin, and Zoro—all three of them, their combat senses honed—simultaneously turned to look in the direction of the sound.
They saw a rather skinny man standing not far away, half-hidden in the shadows of an alley, staring at Gin with a surprised, almost analytical expression.
Lancelot raised an eyebrow.
This man gave him a very familiar feeling.
He couldn't help but examine him carefully, because in this world, anyone who felt familiar to him must be an original character from the source material.
The man's attire was quite distinctive: he wore two necklaces.
One was a simple green bead necklace, and the other was larger and more exquisite, made of numerous rubies strung together.
They looked extremely valuable.
He wore a single glove on his left hand and a bracelet on his wrist.
He was dressed in a dark brown t-shirt, bright orange pants, and a hat adorned with a long, red feather.
Lancelot's mind instantly dredged up the image from the Water 7 arc.
'That hat... that laugh...'
"Nero, the new member of CP9?"
That's right, Lancelot recognized him.
The newcomer was indeed "Nero the Weasel," a prospective member of CP9 who was a master of four of the Six Styles.
But... what in the world would a Cypher Pol agent, and a new one at that, be doing here? In Shells Town?