"Does it really have to be like this?"
Hearing Ornn's proposal, Rhea—the fighter known to the underground as Nightmare—frowned, her dark-painted brows drawn tight in hesitation.
"I know it's hard to swallow," Ornn said, his voice level and entirely serious. "But if you want the boss of the Junkrat Gang to treat you like an irreplaceable asset rather than a disposable grunt, this is the only play you have."
Rhea rubbed the back of her neck, letting out a frustrated breath. "Let me... let me think about it."
While Ornn helped the traitorous navigator find a permanent, peaceful rest at the bottom of the bay, the three of them remained on the stone wharf, talking as the night air turned cold.
Over the next half hour, Ornn and Yamato pieced together the story behind Nightmare.
Her real name was Ripley Rhea. She was twenty-three years old. Her late father had been a Marine lieutenant colonel—a battle-hardened man obsessed with submission wrestling who had retired after taking a crippling injury during a pirate raid, eventually succumbing to his wounds a few years later.
It was from him that Rhea had inherited her physical frame, her grappling style, and her mastery of Soru.
After her father's passing, local cutthroats and low-level pirates her father had once locked away came looking for payback, turning her adolescence into a constant brawl. Survival had forged her strength, but it had also warped her perspective. She didn't hate pirates—in fact, she carried a deep resentment toward the World Government and the Marines.
When her family was at their lowest, a wandering pirate captain—one whom her father had once spared and set on a straight path—stepped in to protect her and her mother. Meanwhile, her father's former Marine colleagues had looked the other way, refusing to lift a finger for a dead officer's widow.
To support her ailing mother, Rhea eventually turned to the ring. She entered the legitimate tournament circuits first, but her power was so absolute that after three matches, no female fighter in the West Blue would agree to step onto the canvas with her.
Desperate for purse money, she turned to the underground circuit, fighting men twice her size until she earned the crown in Keya Town.
As for her presence at the docks tonight, she had been on her way to board a transport to the capital. The head of the Junkrat Gang had requested an audience following her ninety-ninth victory.
Throughout their conversation, Yamato—seeing how well they meshed—kept fidgeting, ready to shout out an invitation for Rhea to join the Gospel. Each time, Ornn cut her off with a sharp, warning glare.
It wasn't until Rhea stepped onto her transport ship and slipped into the fog that Yamato finally snapped, rounding on Ornn as they hauled their gear back aboard the Gospel.
"Why wouldn't you let me ask her?" Yamato demanded, crossing her arms. "She literally said she doesn't mind pirates!"
"Because the timing is wrong," Ornn replied calmly, setting down a heavy crate of supplies. "And she still has a mother to care for. If you force an invitation on her now, you're just putting her in an impossible position."
"Then when is the timing right?"
"Seven days," Ornn said.
Yamato paused, her brow furrowing. "Seven days? Didn't you just give her a strategy to survive her match seven days from now?"
"I gave her a play that maximizes her political leverage with the Junkrat Gang," Ornn corrected, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I didn't say it would guarantee her safety. In fact, relying on the Junkrat Gang to shield her is a fatal miscalculation."
He looked toward the dark expanse of the harbor. "I haven't met Capone Bege, but a man who can transform a minor mafia outfit into the dominant syndicate of the West Blue in two years isn't going to stop at sharing power. The Fire Tank Syndicate wants total control."
Yamato stared at him, her brain visibly grinding through the logic. After a long silence, her eyes widened. "You mean... the Fire Tank Syndicate is going to war with the Junkrat Gang?!"
"It was always inevitable," Ornn said smoothly. "And Garner's death tonight just gave Bege the perfect casus belli to strike."
Yamato processed the weight of his words, her excitement cooling into concern. "Then... Rhea's going to be in extreme danger seven days from now?"
Ornn offered a dry, faint smile. "Exactly. And when the walls fall in on her, we'll step in and clear the board. By then, the choice will make itself."
If Ornn were an unprincipled schemer, he could have played this far dirtier—he could have given her no advice at all, watched her get backed into a corner by the syndicate, and swooped in at her absolute lowest moment to demand her eternal loyalty.
That kind of cold manipulation yielded fanatical minions, but Ornn had a moral line he refused to cross. He wasn't going to orchestrate the destruction of a future crewmate just to play savior.
The reality was simpler: Rhea was too naive. She genuinely believed her boss would protect her out of gratitude or business ethics. Until she experienced the brutal reality of the underworld firsthand, no amount of talking would convince her to abandon her home.
Ornn was simply letting the current run its course.
Three hours later, Rhea's ship glided into the harbor of the royal capital of Bellis—the central seat of power for the Junkrat Gang.
Deep within the VIP suite of an opulent casino, lit by crystal chandeliers and smelling of cigar smoke, Rhea stood before the leader of the syndicate.
The man known as "Junkrat" Hammy was thin, reeking of expensive cologne, with a set of polished steel claws attached to his right hand.
"Nightmare," Hammy began, his voice dripping with forced warmth as he poured a glass of wine. "I hear you're sitting on ninety-nine consecutive wins in Keya?"
Hammy was mentally scrambling for a way to broach the topic. For two years, he had made hundreds of millions of Berries off Rhea's fight purses and betting odds. But he wanted more. If he could force an upset on her hundredth match—fixing the bout so the undefeated champion lost to an underdog—the betting yield would fetch the Junkrat Gang a fortune in a single night.
Before he could craft a pitch, Rhea cleared her throat, her expression stiff.
"Boss Hammy," she said, remembering Ornn's instructions. "I ran into some trouble at the port. If you can cover for me, I can guarantee the gang an outcome worth over one billion Berries."
The figure dropped into the quiet room like a falling anvil.
Hammy nearly choked on his wine, his mind stalling out. "O-One billion?!"
"I take a fall in the match seven days from now," Rhea said, reciting the script Ornn had drafted for her. "I lose the hundredth match publicly. Immediately after, I issue a declaration of vengeance—promising to rebuild my streak and challenge the man who beat me two years down the line."
She looked Hammy dead in the eye. "You build up the guy who beats me into an unstoppable villain. You run two full years of hype. By the time the rematch happens, every fight fan in the West Blue will lose their minds trying to get a ticket."
Hammy stood frozen, his eyes wide.
The vision materialized in his head—the pay-per-view revenue, the astronomical betting pools, the long-term promotional war. It wasn't just a quick payout; it was a self-sustaining goldmine that secured his syndicate's revenue for years.
Slowly, a wide, manic grin spread across Hammy's face. He raised a finger, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Holy hell, kid..." Hammy breathed out, his eyes practically gleaming with the shape of Berry signs. "You're a genius!"
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Advance chapters on- p@treon . com/ Snooze_01
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Enjoy.
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