The Hunter of Pirates

Lagron was killed by a bullet that seemed to come out of nowhere.

After that incident, while Ratsnout and his gang were on edge, they racked their brains but couldn't figure out why a weapons shop would target the navigator of the Sharp Bull Pirate Ship, setting off a chain of subsequent troubles.

As far as he knew, there was no direct connection between the two parties.

If there was any link, it was only that one of the deceased lived close to the weapons shop.

Of course, none of that mattered anymore.

Because the biggest player had now come knocking.

Ratsnout nonchalantly observed Kazt, who prided himself on disliking roundabout methods.

With the calm demeanor of a seasoned master, Ratsnout exuded an aura of dominance. His seemingly casual fiddling with the wine glass betrayed subtle murderous intent, further solidifying his intimidating air.

It was as if the thirty or so men led by Kazt were mere insignificant insects before him.

Kazt's sharp gaze tightened as he absorbed Ratsnout's indifferent responses. The aura beneath Ratsnout's calm exterior seemed turbulent, giving Kazt reason to be wary while igniting his fighting spirit.

For a moment, the air grew tense with impending violence.

"Captain of the Sharp Bull Pirates, Kazt, correct?"

Seeing Kazt's silence, Ratsnout sighed inwardly. Without Kazt picking up the conversation, how was he supposed to smoothly reveal the perpetrator's identity?

"Well then..."

Kazt's gaze turned cold as he slowly activated his Devil Fruit ability.

The black mustache on his lips extended wildly, like growing vines, spreading toward his cheeks and forehead.

In an instant, his entire face was covered with dense black fur. Amidst the fur, his yellow beast-like eyes gleamed with a murderous glow, like lanterns piercing the night.

Suddenly, Ratsnout's tone accelerated, "Anything Captain Kazt wants to know, I'll tell you everything—no secrets, no holding back. I won't even charge you."

"...?"

The shift in atmosphere was abrupt. Kazt's brewing killing intent froze in its tracks.

Ten minutes later, armed with "complete" information, Kazt and his crew left the bar.

After they were gone, Ratsnout slowly withdrew his smile and replaced it with a cold, sinister expression as he glared at the door.

"I only provide free service to the dead."

Tatam glanced at Ratsnout and said calmly, "That was risky."

"It wasn't too bad. I'm not some pushover, and besides, wasn't I counting on you?"

"..."

Tatam wanted to say that if a fight broke out, his first move would be to find a way to escape.

Unaware of Tatam's thoughts, Ratsnout continued, "With just the two of us, escape would be impossible, but we could still manage to severely cripple them. Kazt might look like a bull, but he knows how to act with restraint and isn't blindly reckless."

"So as long as I cooperated, I was certain he wouldn't cause trouble with the auction looming."

Turning over the empty wine glass, Ratsnout watched the residual wine slowly drip down the sides and smirked coldly.

"As for what happens after, let's just hope they don't die too miserably."

Tatam remained silent, his quiet demeanor making it seem as though Ratsnout was talking to himself.

Ratsnout was accustomed to Tatam's reticence, knowing it stemmed from Tatam's voice issues. He spoke only when absolutely necessary.

"Tatam, tonight will be lively. Aren't you the least bit interested?"

Ratsnout turned the glass upright again and gestured for Tatam to refill it.

Tatam shook his head, indicating no interest, then topped off Ratsnout's drink.

"I, on the other hand, am dying to go."

Ratsnout tilted his head back to take a sip.

"But I'm scared out of my wits!!"

The Sharp Bull Pirates exited the alley and headed toward the Mad Hat Auction House on Cape Street.

One of the crew's officers, Vels, walked beside Kazt and said grimly, "Only information extracted under torture holds weight. That old rat was too cooperative. Can we trust what he gave us?"

Unlike Lagron, who was a master swordsman, Vels specialized in firearms.

Kazt kept his gaze fixed ahead and replied coldly, "The auction is upon us. I don't want any trouble. We'll deal with this mess after the auction ends."

"Understood."

Vels fell silent after hearing this.

The group had rushed back to Mad Hat Town just in time.

Upon their return, they learned that Lagron had been sniped in the bar, making it clear that a formidable adversary had them in their sights.

Otherwise, why else would they first kill the navigator and then take out Lagron, who stayed behind to handle the matter?

While Kazt preferred a cautious approach, it didn't mean he shied away from conflict.

However, he had his eyes on several items at the auction, one of which was a Fishman slave—an essential asset for successfully navigating the Reverse Mountain's dangerous waters.

To secure these items, Kazt had brokered a temporary alliance with two similarly ranked pirate crews to take down the Pelkin Fleet, ensuring enough funds for the auction.

Having gone to such lengths, how could he let anything disrupt his plans?

Moreover, seeking out Ratsnout had already cost precious time. Delaying further could risk missing the auction altogether.

The Sharp Bull Pirates moved swiftly, soon arriving at the entrance of the Mad Hat Auction House.

There was still half an hour until the auction began, but most potential buyers had already entered the venue.

Even so, the entrance buzzed with activity.

Due to the auction house's rules, Kazt brought only two officers inside.

Instead of entrusting his funds to the auction house's associated vaultkeeper, Kazt chose to carry his money with him.

In a nearby tavern close to the auction house...

"A vaultkeeper, huh? The professions here are truly diverse."

Wearing a mask, Mobin sat alone at a table, quietly listening to the conversations around him. Through these "helpful citizens," he gleaned a lot about Mad Hat Town.

The reason he could monopolize an entire table wasn't because he had cleared it with his fists like Kid might have.

It was due to his mortician's attire.

To pirates, a mortician was, at best, someone who cleaned up bodies. At worst, they were seen as grim reapers or harbingers of bad luck.

No pirate wanted to share a table with someone so ominous.

Mobin didn't mind the isolation and appreciated the peace.

He ordered drinks and food but didn't touch them. Instead, he listened intently for any mention of names, occasionally glancing quickly toward the speakers before returning his gaze.

Each pirate he "swept" with his eyes would shiver involuntarily, confused but unaware of the cause.

Time passed slowly.

Pirates occasionally got up to leave or entered through the tavern doors.

Every time the door opened, Mobin would glance toward it inconspicuously.

Creak—

The door opened again.

A blond boy wearing a black top hat stepped into the tavern.

Scanning the room, his gaze quickly locked onto Morin's relatively empty table.

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