The Hunter of Pirates

To give up or to continue?

Mobin gripped the gun tightly, his brow deeply furrowed. He didn't want to abandon the opportunity he had waited days for, but neither did he want to take a risk on something uncertain.

As he wavered, Red and his companion entered the 80-meter range.

In mere seconds, Mobin searched for a reason to convince himself.

He glanced at the sky, a faint sense of reckless hope rising within him.

Risk comes hand in hand with reward.

Even if one witness remained, it wouldn't matter as long as he wasn't discovered.

Under the cover of night and the uneven architecture around, the chances of making a clean escape were high.

With that thought, Mobin made up his mind.

The timing wasn't perfect, but giving up now would be premature.

He took a deep breath, holding it as he focused intently on the two figures drawing nearer.

Seventy meters.

Mobin rested his finger lightly on the trigger.

Sixty meters.

His finger pressed down slightly.

Fifty meters.

Mobin held his breath completely.

Just as he was about to fire, Red suddenly quickened his pace and moved toward a wall.

Mobin's eyelid twitched—he nearly pulled the trigger.

However, upon seeing what happened next, his racing heart gradually calmed, and his finger eased off the trigger.

In the alleyway, Red leaned against the wall and bent over, vomiting profusely onto the ground.

His companion patted him on the back while speaking to him, slightly turned to the side.

The clouds above shifted, allowing a sliver of moonlight to penetrate the night, casting streaks of light into the alley.

Looking at the two figures hunched together, a bold idea suddenly formed in Mobin's mind.

"This angle... not quite right."

Quietly shifting to a sniping spot several meters away, Mobin repositioned himself.

He lay prone, steadying the gun as he aligned it with the two figures against the wall.

A mental trajectory formed—starting at Red's side neck, the line passed through and ended at his companion's forehead.

"This will work."

A fleeting but fierce intent to kill flashed in Mobin's eyes as his finger decisively pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The deafening gunshot shattered the silence of the alley.

A moment later, two heavy thuds followed as bodies collapsed to the ground.

Red fell, his eyes wide in disbelief, his mouth gasping like a suffocating fish.

A gaping wound bled profusely from his neck, spraying a small arc of blood onto the ground.

As for his ferocious-looking companion, he lay lifeless nearby—the bullet that pierced Red's neck lost momentum and burrowed into his companion's forehead, killing him instantly.

Soon, the gunshot awakened the townspeople, who peered out of their windows.

In an instant, murmurs and clamor filled the night.

By then, Mobin had already left his sniping spot, swiftly navigating down the building like a nimble monkey and heading back to the weapons shop.

Several dozen meters away, Sol stood hidden in the shadows of a building.

His presence blended seamlessly with the night, making him almost indistinguishable even up close.

Staring at the two bodies in the alley, Sol spoke, "So, what do you think after watching that?"

"Confused... and unwilling to believe it," replied a voice from a nearby shadow.

Sunny stepped out, her expression filled with disbelief. Unlike Sol, she didn't look at the bodies. Instead, her gaze remained fixed on the now-empty sniping point.

Her scarred face, marked by a deep knife wound, was etched with shock.

"When Mobin took that musket from Yasopp, his handling looked clumsy. He kept flipping the gun over like it was his first time touching such a weapon."

"So, I'd rather believe he used a pistol for that shot, not a musket. But how... how did he do it?"

Sol glanced at Sunny, understanding her disbelief.

He, too, had experienced moments like this in the past.

Some things, no matter how unsettling, couldn't be changed.

From birth, people were divided by levels.

Some are born into poverty, others into wealth.

Some are born with extraordinary talents, while others are average and unremarkable.

"Sunny, this world is full of monsters. Some are born to wield swords, others to handle guns."

"Then should I... still bother learning to shoot?"

"..."

Sol frowned slightly, seeing a shadow of his past self in Sunny's disheartened expression.

As Sol remained silent, Sunny's face grew more dejected.

"I have no talent with swords, my poor constitution isn't suited for physical combat, and I've had to settle for learning to shoot."

"When Yasopp praised my talent, I truly thought I'd found the right path."

"But now, I realize what he saw in me back then is nothing like what I see in Mobin now."

Sunny's self-doubt was evident, her frustration unmasked even by the darkness.

Sol sighed. "Mobin's aptitude indeed exceeded my expectations. However, when it comes to shooting, I don't think you're inferior to him. He's just... moving faster for now."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"Do I look like someone who would waste effort on useless platitudes?"

"Sounds like a consolation to me."

"..."

Sol shook his head and looked at the faintly glowing lamps in the distance. His voice softened with significance.

"Sunny, this path is longer than you imagine—so long that you'll come to understand what true despair feels like. You and Mobin have barely started on an insignificant stretch of it."

"In my youth, I aspired to be a great swordmaster known across the seas. But like you, I…"

"Hey, where are you going? I'm not done with my legendary story! Get back here!"

Watching Sunny leave without a backward glance, Sol's wrinkled face twitched several times.

"That girl... Did she even take my words to heart?"

Sol gazed up at the night sky, lost in memories.

He, too, had once been defeated by the limitations of his talent and thought there was no path forward.

Until…

The image of his captain's smiling face surfaced in his mind, prompting a faint smile of his own.

But the pleasant memory soon faded, replaced by another—a man with a massive iron fist, his entire body cloaked in Armament Haki.

Sol shook his head violently, teeth clenched.

"Damn it, why am I thinking of him now?"

A sense of deep disgust overwhelmed Sol, as if he had swallowed a hundred flies.

Weapons Shop

Mobin returned to his room, carefully putting away the freshly bloodied Usopp.

"Whew…"

Exhaling softly, he summoned the Hunter's Notebook.

The black cover now displayed an additional star, slightly larger than the last.

Lying on the bed, Mobin focused on the changes in his body.

This time, with Sunny's intelligence, the benefits gained far surpassed his first kill.

If his physical strength had previously been equivalent to five times that of an average person, it was now roughly fifteen times.

In terms of power, his current level could be translated to… 150 Doriki!

Read 20+ chapters at:

[email protected]/NenMaster