The Sniper's Levels

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Using the neighbor intelligence Sunny had given him, Corvin had selected ten targets from among the people living nearby.

Target number one went without saying. That had been Red, the man Corvin had sniped. Target number two was Garden, the man he had assassinated earlier that night.

He had not expected Garden to come with a bonus, but he was not going to complain about an extra return.

In terms of raw physique, the two muscular men who had been sleeping in each other's arms that night were clearly stronger than Watt and Red.

The return Corvin received from them, however, was not as obvious as what he had gained from the first two targets.

He had expected that.

The Hunter's Ledger followed diminishing returns. Weak targets could produce rapid growth early on, but once Corvin became stronger, the same prey yielded less and less.

From then on, only stronger targets, or targets near his own level, could sustain meaningful growth.

For example, if Corvin could kill a monster on Kaido's or Big Mom's level right now, the physical return alone might push his current body to an absurd height.

That, of course, belonged in dreams.

He could also keep hunting weaker targets. The return would be lower, but enough quantity could still create a qualitative change.

He had done that before.

Back in the Hunter world, he had exploited a position at a penal institution to carry out executions himself until the ledger stopped yielding meaningful returns.

That method carried almost no risk, but it consumed blank pages in the ledger at a frightening rate.

It had been acceptable in the Hunter world. In the world of One Piece, repeating that method would waste finite pages and cap his future potential.

Nen users who truly stood apart from ordinary people were rare in the Hunter world. In this sea, strong monsters were everywhere.

That was the fundamental difference between the two worlds.

In other words, the number of viable monsters in the world of One Piece far exceeded what the Hunter world could offer.

He had even considered the ruthless option of buying enslaved people as disposable targets, but wasting ledger pages on weak prey would cripple his future growth.

When he returned to the weapons shop, he washed up and went to sleep.

The days passed one after another.

By the day before the auction, Corvin had successfully added the third, fourth, and fifth neighbors to his ledger.

The only slight disappointment was that their bounties were not low, yet the quality of the return was weaker than he had imagined.

After all, a bounty was not determined by strength alone. More often, it reflected the crimes someone had committed and the threat they posed.

Those neighbors were only average in strength. Their bounties clearly came from having done too many ugly things.

After several hunts, Corvin's constitution had only just broken past twenty times that of an ordinary person, up from fifteen.

Even so, he was satisfied.

With what he had now, he should have enough strength to work the auction's outer edge and exploit the chaos.

The next day arrived under a clear, cloudless sky.

After nearly a month of buildup, the auction had drawn every kind of crowd to Mad Hatter Town.

There were pirates, people from the underworld, bounty hunters disguised well enough to gamble with their lives, and even Marine infiltrators willing to risk death for information.

The scene left the inner bay packed almost solid with ships. All kinds of flags snapped in the sea wind.

If the Marines saw this, more than one of them would probably wish they could wipe the whole harbor out in one strike.

The spectacle overloaded Mad Hatter Town with visitors, but Sol's weapons shop remained quiet.

The shop opened as usual that day.

Sunny sat behind the counter, staring blankly at the door.

"End of the month..."

The Devil Fruit from the auction filled her thoughts.

It was also something she had no chance of obtaining.

For once, Sol did not go to the pleasure district for his morning exercise.

Maybe it was because the place was already packed. Maybe he had suddenly remembered his responsibilities as a teacher.

That day, he finally arranged Corvin's beginner training.

"Why legs?"

Corvin's legs were wrapped in dark, unidentified metal weights.

They really were heavy. He had no idea where Sol had found them.

He had assumed a sniper would focus more on training the stability of the hands, so he could not understand why Sol wanted him to start with his legs.

"Do you know the highest level a sniper can reach?" Sol asked instead.

"No."

"Listen closely. The highest level is firing one shot and not needing to run."

"Huh?"

"Then do you know the level below that?"

"N-No."

"Firing ten shots and still not needing to run."

"What?"

"There is another level below that. Do you know it?"

"Just tell me, old man."

"Firing one shot and running."

"Wait, what?"

"You think that is the end? Let me tell you, there is more."

Corvin did not answer.

"The lowest level is running the moment the situation looks bad."

Corvin stared at him, momentarily speechless.

Was this what sniper theory looked like in the world of One Piece?

No. This had to be something Sol made up himself.

But somehow, it also sounded annoyingly reasonable.

Sol took a drag from his cigarette and said lazily, "So where do you think you are right now?"

Corvin hesitated, then said quietly, "Running the moment the situation looks bad?"

"Exactly." Sol glared at him.

Corvin had nothing to say to that.

At least now he understood the logic behind the so-called levels.

He obediently began his leg training.

At this rate, Sol might turn him into a kick fighter before he ever became a proper sniper.

With a massive crowd pouring in, Mad Hatter Town, already lawless on an ordinary day, became exceptionally lively.

Gunshots rang out at a constant rhythm, like ceremonial cannon fire echoing through every part of town.

Bloodshed and murder became routine.

The chaos did not create a panic. If anything, it sent the pirates into a frenzy.

On the main avenue of Gambling Street, a group of tall, broad men in black suits marched in formation.

Their leader, however, was a middle-aged man of relatively small stature.

He wore a black hat and a striped suit, with a cigar clenched between his teeth.

Despite his size, he radiated an intimidating pressure. The tall men behind him followed his every step.

"Damn it. That's Capone 'Gang' Bege!"

"Are you trying to die? Get back!"

"Those people kill without blinking!"

The crowd on the street retreated at once, leaving a wide path for the gang.

Elsewhere, on Wine Street, bodies lay scattered across the road, more than a dozen of them cut down by blades.

In front of those corpses walked a man in a black top hat, carrying a cane, his skin an eerie white.

He whistled as if nothing had happened, twirling the cane in a smooth rhythm.

On both sides of the road, people watched him leave in horror.

"What just happened?"

"I-It was over in an instant..."

"I remember him now. That's the man they call Demon Sheriff Laffitte."

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