Three days later, the Oro Jackson slipped through the sea route beneath the Red Line and officially entered the New World.
The color of the sea grew darker, almost ink blue.
The sky was no longer as bright and cheerful as in Paradise. Heavy clouds hung low, and every now and then, lightning flashed in the cracks between them.
The temperature dropped sharply. The crew began pulling on coats one after another.
"The weather in the New World is insane."
Rayleigh stood by the helm, speaking to Bullet at his side.
"One minute it is sunny, the next it might turn into a blizzard."
"The currents here have no pattern at all, and the magnetic field is a mess. The Log Pose will spin like crazy."
Bullet tilted his head back and looked up at the sky.
"The place where the strong gather."
He spoke quietly.
"Exactly."
Roger had walked over at some point. Hands on his hips, he drew in a deep breath of New World air.
"The pirates here... even the weakest are ten times stronger than those kiddie players back in Paradise."
"The Marines have the least control in these waters, and every faction is carving out their own turf..."
He suddenly grinned.
"So it is fun, right?"
Just then, an urgent whistle shrilled from the lookout.
"Port side!"
"Three ships!"
"They are flying Butcher Cass' flag!"
"Cass?"
Shanks frowned.
"That guy who likes torturing prisoners?"
"Wasn't he supposed to be active in the South Blue?"
Rayleigh strode to the bow and raised a telescope.
"Looks like someone came early to 'welcome' us."
"It is definitely the Butcher Pirates' flagship, the Blood Blade."
"All hands, battle stations."
The crew moved at once.
Gunports opened. Powder was rammed into cannons. The sounds of blades leaving their sheaths rang out across the deck.
Bullet looked out over the distant sea.
Three ships were closing in, forming a rough encirclement.
The main ship was a heavily modified warship, its figurehead carved into a blood draped cleaver.
The other two were smaller, but their sides were bristling with an impressive number of cannon ports.
"One hundred eighty million berries, Butcher Cass."
Rayleigh introduced him in a flat tone.
"A Zoan user, Cat Cat Fruit, Model: Black Panther. Cruel by nature. Likes to torment his opponents during battle."
"His crew are all bloodthirsty lunatics."
Roger scratched at his beard, eyes gleaming with interest.
"Want to have some fun, boys?"
"Of course."
Shanks answered first, sword already drawn a finger's width from its sheath.
But before things could escalate, Bullet stepped forward.
"These small fry... let me stretch a bit."
His calm voice was not loud, but it cut the noise on deck to nothing in an instant.
Everyone turned to look at the boy who had only been on board for half a month.
Roger raised an eyebrow.
"On your own?"
"There are three ships out there, at least two hundred men."
"Perfect to test a new ability."
Bullet rolled his neck, joints cracking softly.
"And I am hungry."
The last words were spoken lightly, but Rayleigh caught the weight in them.
He remembered the way Bullet had been after devouring the Sea King three days ago.
That hunger for prey.
Roger held Bullet's gaze for a few seconds, then burst into laughter.
"Alright! They are all yours then!"
"Just try not to sink the ships. I still want to see what this Cass fellow looks like up close."
"Captain Roger!"
An older crewmember started to protest.
Rayleigh raised a hand to stop him.
He looked deeply at Bullet.
"Know your limits."
"Pirates in the New World are not the same as the ones in Paradise."
Bullet nodded once, then walked toward the rail.
Out on the water, the Blood Blade had entered firing range.
A rough voice boomed over from a loudspeaker Den Den Mushi.
"Roger Pirates!"
"Haha! I am really lucky today!"
"If I kill you, I will be famous the world over!"
That was Cass.
He stood at the bow, close to three meters tall, bare chested and covered in scars, with a string of what looked suspiciously like human bones hanging from his waist.
His eyes were bestial slits, clearly already partially transformed.
"Boys! Get ready for boarding!"
"Roger's head is mine! The rest of them, do whatever you like!"
A chorus of blood hungry cheers roared from the three ships.
Bullet watched it all without a word.
He started to count the distance.
Five hundred meters.
Four hundred.
Three hundred fifty...
When the gap shrank to three hundred meters, he moved.
No running start. Just a simple flex of his legs, then he leaped.
In a single jump, he crossed more than two hundred meters of open sea and came down on the deck of the foremost escort ship.
Boom.
His landing punched a shallow crater into the wooden planks.
The pirates around him were stunned for a heartbeat, then finally reacted, roaring as they rushed him with blades raised.
"Kill him!"
"It is just a brat!"
Bullet did not even bother going full beast.
He only transformed both arms and part of his torso, black scales spreading across them, reflecting a faint, eerie light under the gloomy sky.
The first blade came down on his shoulder.
Clang.
Metal rang out. The sword snapped clean in two. The pirate's grip burst open, blood spraying from his torn palm.
"What?!"
Bullet swung his arm in a casual backhand.
The dragon claws tore across the man's chest, leaving five deep gashes that went straight to the bone. The pirate flew off his feet, smashed through the railing, and vanished into the sea.
Bullet did not slow.
He moved through the crowd like a specter.
Every swipe of his claw dropped another man.
Ten seconds.
By then, fewer than ten pirates were still standing on the first escort ship's deck.
They stared at the black scaled youth in frozen terror, hands shaking around their weapons.
"M... monster..."
Bullet ignored them.
He turned and looked at the second escort ship a hundred meters away.
The muscles in his legs tightened, dragon scaled calves coiling with explosive strength.
He jumped again. This time, his body traced an even longer arc through the air, landing neatly on the yard of the second ship's mainmast.
"He is up there!"
Arrows and bullets poured up toward him.
Bullet sprinted along the yardarm, his movements so fast that every shot flew wide.
He glanced down at the deck below... and a sudden thought slipped into his mind.
Could devouring work on nonliving things?
He reached out and grabbed the mainmast beside him.
It was a solid cylinder of timber half a meter thick.
With a flex of his will, he triggered the devouring ability.
A bizarre sight followed.
From the point where his hand touched it, the mast began to wither.
The wood fibers lost all their toughness and strength in an instant, turning to dust.
The unsupported sails came crashing down in a single thunderous collapse, knocking a whole cluster of pirates flat beneath the falling canvas and rigging.