What did I do?
I ran.
And thanks to Satoru's training, I ran like a nightmare.
The forest blurred around me as I moved, my speed just slow enough to keep control—but fast enough to be almost invisible. I wasn't at full power; there was no need to waste energy on weaklings.
I was a shadow in the fog.
Pirates screamed. They ran. They died.
One moment, they were alive, weapons raised, barking orders—
The next, they were in pieces.
If I were in their place, I'd be terrified. Thick fog, the sound of footsteps—no, not footsteps. Something faster. Something they couldn't escape. A force of death cutting through them without even slowing down.
A faceless predator, moving through the mist.
If any of them survived, I wouldn't be surprised if they spread stories—legends about a monster that awakens when the fog rolls in. A demon that hunts through the forest, cutting down anyone foolish enough to step into its domain.
But no one would.
And the villagers? They'd know exactly who did this. No myths. No mystery. Just me.
At first, running at this speed—outside, in a real body, on real ground—felt amazing. Like stretching after being trapped for years.
But after the first dozen kills. After watching body after body hit the dirt, sliced clean in half.
The thrill faded.
This wasn't something I'd ever enjoy.
Killing was easy. And just kinda strange thing to do.
But exploring. Learning the world. That was what I wanted.
Still, the job wasn't done yet.
I had already taken out most of them—probably all the scattered groups. If I missed a few, the villagers could handle it. Four or five pirates weren't a threat anymore.
But I saved the best for last.
The main force—the largest group—was still moving toward the village. And in the center of it all.
Their captain.
He wouldn't be ordinary.
And now, at last, I reached them.
A giant of a man, nearly four meters tall. Thick, muscled arms gripping two massive axes. A long, black beard tangled over his chest. And most importantly—his skin. Stone.
Now I understood why Colt compared me to him. Devil Fruit user.
"You damn bastard! STOP!" the captain roared.
I didn't.
I kept running. Kept cutting down the last of his crew until it was just him and me. I skidded to a halt five meters in front of him.
His breathing was heavy, his rage radiating off him in waves.
"You—" His grip on his axes tightened. "You'll PAY for this."
His voice shook with fury.
But me?
I couldn't care less. 'Couse what that dude could do to Satoru Gojo? Nothing.
"I won't," I said, driving the tip of my saber into the dirt.
The pirate captain—this towering, axe-wielding brute—was clearly used to living as if he were untouchable.
That ended today.
He wouldn't learn a lesson. He wouldn't walk away with a scar to remember me by. He would die.
I could've just cut him down with my saber. His stone skin might've been tough, but I knew I could slice through it.
But… I wanted to try something else.
A new tactic flashed through my mind. Devil Fruit users had a fatal weakness. Why not use it?
I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, stretching like this was just another morning jog.
"Better grit your teeth and get ready."
The captain snarled. "What?! JUST DIE, BASTARD!"
He charged, both axes raised, a mountain of rage barreling toward me.
I moved.
One leap—high. Higher than any normal person should be able to jump. Before he could even process it, I was above him, grabbing his head with both hands.
Then I slammed his skull straight into the ground.
The impact shook the earth. The dirt cracked beneath him. His arms twitched, but I didn't let go.
Before he could recover, I tightened my grip, tensed my muscles, and—with everything I had—threw him.
Hard.
His body soared through the air, flipping helplessly as he flew over the forest toward the ocean.
And I was already moving.
I ran, faster than the eye could track, cutting through the trees like a bullet. I wasn't done.
The moment I caught up, I leaped again—mid-air, I grabbed his shoulders, twisted into a forward somersault, and hurled him toward the ocean.
…Except I missed.
He crashed into the shoreline, skidding across the sand, stopping just a few meters from the water.
Damn. Bummer.
I sprinted toward him.
He was coughing—choking on blood, gasping, barely moving. His axes had slipped from his hands.
I grabbed his leg. And this time, I didn't miss.
With one final swing, I launched him straight into the ocean.
He thrashed for a few seconds, weakly trying to fight his way back to shore. But fatigue won. His movements slowed. His head dipped beneath the surface.
Then—nothing.
Just still, dark water.
He drowned.
I exhaled. "Something like that," I muttered to myself, rubbing my chin.
Was that a solid tactic? Maybe. It definitely worked against this guy. But let's be real—just cutting off his head would've been faster.
I frowned, realizing something.
From the outside, I must look like a complete maniac.
Running through the fog, slicing people apart with zero emotion. Testing different ways to kill people just to see what works best. Launching bodies hundreds of meters for fun.
Yeah. I'm the horror guy.
But whatever. I'd already stopped seeing these pirates as people. They were problems to be erased.
Speaking of which—I need that head.
A captain's bounty would be worth a lot. Damn, I should probably go back and take the heads of every pirate with a price on them.
And now I sound like even more of a maniac. Okay. Not gonna justify myself.
I spotted one of the captain's massive axes lying nearby, still half-buried in the sand. Good enough.
I grabbed it and dived into the water.
The search didn't take long. His body was already sinking to the ocean floor, lifeless.
I swam down, lined up the axe—and took his head clean off. The water turned red.
I grabbed the severed head by the hair, careful not to let it float away, and swam back up.
Breaking the surface, I climbed back onto shore and stared at what I was holding.
A dead face. Mouth twisted in a final grimace of rage and fear.
But I'd better get used to this.
Not that it would ever be easy.
Gripping the head tightly, I turned back toward the village and ran. This time, with less enthusiasm.