Arthur Never Takes Advantage

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Saving the fish-man so he could kill the fish-man.

How could Clara, who watched from the outside, possibly guess that strange chain of logic?

To her, Corvin was simply helping the fish-man.

Disbelief came first. Questions about his identity followed.

On the long street, the fish-man slave desperate to return to the sea also noticed what was happening.

Was someone helping him?

For a moment, the fish-man fell into the same confusion as Clara.

Who?

In a place like this, how could anyone possibly help him?

The fish-man shook his head hard. He had no time to think about it and kept running for his life.

He was not stupid.

After experiencing what it meant to be a live target, he was not going to keep running down the main street.

He suddenly changed direction and rushed toward the alleys between buildings.

When the pirates who had come out to watch the fun saw that the escaped fish-man had learned, they regretted not being able to fire a few more shots. Even so, they were not foolish enough to chase him.

They knew very well that the fish-man slave was property of the Mad Hatter Auction House.

When many people were present, everyone could fire a few shots for fun. If he died, everyone would share the blame.

Under those conditions, they did not have to worry too much about the auction house settling accounts afterward.

As for helping the auction house capture the fish-man alive?

The risk and reward did not match. Only someone kicked in the head would do that.

After watching him disappear into the alley, the spectators shifted their attention to the three fellow pirates killed by unknown shots, and to the brawl still raging in front of the auction house.

On a rooftop, Corvin saw the fish-man turn into the alley. A satisfied smile appeared beneath his mask.

That was more like it.

The thought that he would soon be able to test whether the Hunter's Ledger worked on fish-men made heat rise in his chest.

When he had designed the ability, his original purpose had been to turn a transmigrator's informational advantage into usable power.

Subconsciously, Hunter's Ledger had been built around two ideas: the hunt and the person being hunted.

In Corvin's earliest idea of suitable prey, beings like fish-men and giants had not been included.

But fish-men and giants were still close enough to people.

Because of that, Corvin believed the chance of compatibility was high.

If it worked, the range of possible prey would expand.

At that point, fish-men and giants would become higher-value targets.

The only issue was that, compared with pirates scattered across the four seas, fish-men and giants were closer to rare monsters.

Unless he went straight to where they lived, meeting them would mostly depend on luck.

"Fish-men really do have incredible bodies. With that many wounds, he can still keep that speed."

Corvin followed behind the fish-man.

"If I hadn't killed those three pirates tonight, I might not have been able to keep up."

Seeing that the fish-man's speed had not noticeably dropped, Corvin was surprised, but calm.

Letting the fish-man keep running was ideal.

First would come blood loss.

Then exhaustion.

After that, making his move would be much easier.

Corvin had seen how violently the fish-man had slaughtered through the crowd.

At that moment, he was like a lone wolf waiting patiently for his prey to tire, trailing the fish-man at a steady distance.

Considering the possibility that someone might interfere, Corvin slowed down and loaded ammunition while he followed.

His current body was no longer weak, but only firearms could still give him a real sense of safety.

As long as the enemy could not simply endure bullets, Corvin had confidence he could handle the situation.

He let the chase continue for about ten minutes before the fish-man's wounds finally began to show their effect.

Blood loss came first, weakening his limbs.

Then his speed dropped noticeably.

To avoid unexpected problems, Corvin decided it was about time.

He suddenly accelerated. With several quick leaps, he landed in front of the fish-man.

The fish-man was startled and stopped hard.

His body, weakened by blood loss, could not support such a sudden brake. He staggered forward.

'Bad.'

The fish-man's heart jolted.

To his surprise, the human in front of him did not seize the chance to finish him.

After hurriedly steadying himself, the fish-man panted hard and watched the human who had dropped down in front of him.

His gaze swept over the dagger in the human's hand and the long gun barrel protruding over his shoulder. Shock flashed through him, and ignoring his exhaustion, he lunged forward.

Strike first.

Bang.

The fish-man was forced to stop again.

A lead ball struck the ground in front of his feet, smoke curling upward.

"Stupid human."

Seeing Corvin empty the only shot in the smoothbore musket, the fish-man relaxed.

In this kind of terrain, the thing he feared most was a gun. That was why, after noticing the smoothbore on Corvin's back, he had risked charging.

In the end, the other party had deliberately missed.

He did not know why. He did not need to think about it either.

Instead of rushing now, the fish-man silently adjusted his breathing.

After using one lead ball to stop the fish-man's charge, Corvin tossed the now-empty Usopp aside.

"Even if you are a fish-man, I, Arthur, have never liked taking advantage of the weak."

Corvin lifted his chin slightly. Through the holes in the mask, his eyes stayed fixed on the fish-man's body.

"Your injuries are severe, and your breathing is a mess from running. I'll give you five minutes to recover."

The fish-man's eyes widened.

'So that was it.'

'No wonder the shot had missed on purpose.'

'How boring.'

'Humans were foolish precisely because of traits like that.'

'Five minutes?'

'He would need less than three to steady his breathing.'

The fish-man began to steady himself.

'Once his breathing recovered, why would he wait the full five minutes?'

'He would strike and leave this place as quickly as possible.'

Corvin looked at the fish-man working to recover and said solemnly, "My blade does not kill nameless men. Tell me your name."

As he spoke, he raised the dagger across his body.

The fish-man glanced at the dagger and sneered.

Even wounded, in close combat, he was confident he could crush the human with only a dagger in an instant.

"Hiton Sam."

The fish-man gave his name coldly without thinking.

He had wanted to add a threat, then decided there was no need.

Soon enough, he would crush the head of this human who pretended to be righteous and noble.

"Hiton Sam, is it?"

Corvin smiled, carefully studying the bloodstained shape of the fish-man's face.

A moment later, Corvin suddenly retreated and put away the dagger.

The fish-man named Sam froze, unsure what trick Corvin was playing.

After putting away the dagger, Corvin directly summoned the black ledger.

"Huh? A Devil Fruit user?"

Seeing Corvin produce a notebook out of thin air, Sam abruptly sensed danger. He could no longer worry about recovering his breath and charged at Corvin.

Corvin stayed calm under pressure. Like a judge holding a quill, he quickly wrote Sam's name and the astonishing grip strength Sam had displayed in the fight.

"Whatever your ability is, once I get close-"

As Sam rushed forward, he raised his right hand. His webbed fingers spread, ready to crush Corvin's face the moment he came within reach.

Shock flashed across Sam's face.

The notebook in Corvin's hand disappeared. In its place, Corvin drew a flintlock pistol from inside his clothes.

Bang.

Corvin pulled the trigger.

The shot struck Sam's body.

Blood burst open. The impact of the lead ball jolted Sam and stopped him in place.

"You...!"

Sam collapsed in disbelief.

Corvin then drew a second flintlock and fired another shot into Sam's body.

"Sh-shameless Arthur... Arlong will... will..."

Before he could finish, Sam died.

"Arlong?"

Hearing Sam's final threat, Corvin raised an eyebrow.

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