"Have you ever heard that a fish-man's arm strength is naturally ten times that of a human?"
"What... what?!"
The captain of the Fat Bottle Pirates tried desperately to pull his sword free from Nanaimo's hand.
But no matter how hard he pulled—
the blade would not move.
It felt as if it had been welded into place.
Nanaimo's hand gripped it like an iron vise.
⚔️✋
Because of racial differences, fish-men were born with arm strength ten times greater than ordinary humans.
That "ten times" was based on average racial standards—
much like how the Marines and CP agencies once used Doriki to measure strength, taking a trained gun-bearing marine as 10 points.
Naturally, physical power also had baseline averages.
Training and discipline could narrow that gap—
but raw biology still mattered.
Because strength did not come from nowhere:
bone densitymuscle qualitybody structureforce transmission
These were natural physical advantages.
"Forget it. Explaining this to someone like you is meaningless."
Nanaimo tightened her grip further.
The sharp blade failed to leave even the faintest mark on her soft-looking skin.
Instead—
the sword itself began to groan.
Creak... crack...
This was not Haki.
This was innate talent.
🌊💪
Every race living on the sea possessed its own special gifts.
Because each race adapted to wildly different:
environmentssurvival habitscombat conditions
it was difficult—and unfair—to simply declare one race stronger than another.
But within the same race—
finding someone born exceptional was much easier.
Among humans alone,
Charlotte Linlin stood at the very peak of natural talent.
As a child she already possessed monstrous strength:
killing giant bears barehandedskin harder than steelimmune to blades and cannonfire
This was Linlin's natural gift:
Iron Balloon.
And among all her children—
Nanaimo was the only one who inherited it.
That meant her starting point was already the unreachable finish line for many others.
🔩👑
Clang...
Half the broken blade fell to the ground.
The sound was small—
yet in that moment, painfully sharp.
The Fat Bottle captain stared in horror at the fracture.
Because the blade had not snapped from brute force.
It looked more like it had been melted.
As if corroded by something.
"Fish-Man Karate — Striking Water: Acid Rain."
A strange liquid had gathered on Nanaimo's right hand—
hanging there like droplets ready to fall.
The instant she punched forward,
that liquid exploded into countless tiny water arrows—
shooting backward like a violent storm toward several pirates trying to ambush her.
💧⚡
Striking Water was one of the most basic techniques in Fish-Man Karate.
Also one of its simplest ranged attacks.
Its principle was straightforward:
Condense liquid into the hand—
then fire it like bullets.
Power and penetration depended entirely on the user.
But Nanaimo's version resembled shotgun scatter.
The water arrows tore through several pirates instantly.
And even after piercing flesh—
their force remained strong enough to bury themselves deep into the nearby wall.
Then—
the holes in the wall began sizzling.
White smoke rose.
The stone visibly expanded and deepened as corrosion spread.
Because what she fired was not ordinary water.
It was acid.
🧪🔥
"Ugh— AHH...!"
Those killed instantly were lucky.
Because Nanaimo's spread attack naturally involved impact variation.
Some avoided vital points by chance.
But that meant acid remained inside their wounds.
And now—
their bodies began dissolving from within.
A burning sensation erupted like hellfire.
Too painful for proper screams.
They could only collapse on the ground,
curling violently,
throats producing broken noises that no longer resembled words.
In that sense—
surviving the initial strike was worse than dying immediately.
The pain did not last long.
Their organs failed rapidly under corrosion.
Soon, sensation disappeared completely.
Then life itself followed.
☠️
"M-Monsters! These damned kids are monsters! Run! Run!"
The Fat Bottle captain's last mental defense shattered.
To one side:
Katakuri was slaughtering pirates like cutting vegetables.
To the other:
Nanaimo had dropped multiple men with a single strike.
He threw away the broken sword.
Ignored his crew.
Turned and ran.
🏃💨
"Honestly... we're already in the New World, and you're still this ignorant? You could at least call it a Devil Fruit ability."
Nanaimo looked dissatisfied with the word monster.
On this sea,
strange powers were everywhere.
Most people immediately associated them with Devil Fruits.
"With your level of strength and understanding... no, actually—with a brain as smooth as yours, maybe this outcome was inevitable."
Because Nanaimo's power was not a Devil Fruit.
It came from something else:
her fish-man lineage.
🐟
Fish-men possessed fish-species traits.
For example:
Arlong, as a shark fish-man, could rapidly regenerate teethSebastian, due to his scorpionfish traits, could camouflage himself
These traits became greatly amplified in fish-men and merfolk.
Because of genetics,
children did not always inherit the same species traits as their parents.
There was randomness involved.
And because the sea contained far more species than most understood—
even octopus and other marine creatures counted.
That meant strange abilities occasionally appeared.
Sometimes even fish-men themselves could not explain what they were.
They could only compare with books and guess.
📚🌊
Nanaimo's fish-species trait came from a marine organism capable of secreting corrosive liquid.
In her hands—
that acid had evolved further.
Even metal corroded easily.
The captain never heard the explanation.
He only wanted to escape.
Anywhere.
His most primitive survival instinct pushed him forward blindly.
But reality was cruel.
There was no path to life ahead.
Only—
Katakuri's trident flying toward him.