The Second Requirement

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Arlong will slaughter every last one of you humans.

That was what Sam had wanted to say before he died.

If Corvin had heard the whole thing, he might have laughed.

Even so, hearing Arlong's name from Sam surprised him.

The Arlong Pirates were in the East Blue, while this was the West Blue.

Had Sam tried to join Arlong, gotten lost, ended up in the West Blue, and then been captured by humans?

Corvin shook his head and stopped thinking about it.

At that moment, a faint popping sound came from his body, followed by a subtle change.

Corvin sensed it and rolled up his sleeve. Muscle had begun to show on his arm, though it was still loose and underdeveloped.

"I only had a few pieces of information, and the return was still this strong."

Surprised, Corvin glanced at Sam's corpse.

After all, Sam had carved a bloody path through a crowd with nothing but physical strength and terrifying grip.

Even badly wounded, he had lasted this long. When he charged just now, his speed had been greatly reduced, but it still could not be underestimated.

If Corvin had not anticipated Sam's reaction and pulled back before writing the name, Sam might have reached him the moment the entry was finished.

A fish-man with Sam's physical ability would probably become several times stronger if he learned proper martial arts or Fish-Man Karate.

"This guy was a serious fish-man warrior. If he had escaped tonight and joined up with the Arlong Pirates later... he might actually have wiped out the Straw Hat Pirates before they fully formed."

Corvin picked up Usopp, which he had thrown aside earlier.

Dropping the gun had been a little unnecessary. He had hoped it might make Sam relax slightly, but the gun had been empty anyway.

Still, Corvin had to admire Sam's decision-making over those few short minutes.

Unfortunately, fate had already marked the price.

Even if Sam had luckily escaped the auction house and made it this far, he could not escape his only ending: death.

By then, even if Corvin had not used a gun, he could have killed the heavily wounded, unstable Sam with a dagger.

The gun was simply safer.

Since a safer method existed, Corvin would have had to be insane to choose the dagger.

If he had been holding a long blade instead, he might have considered it.

After all, length mattered. A long blade was far more reliable than a dagger.

Corvin did not linger. He left the alley.

A short while later, a faint fishy smell began spreading through the air.

That night, Corvin had successfully taken three pirates and one fish-man.

The night's gains were enough, so he decided to stop there. He no longer planned to go back near the auction house and went straight to the weapons shop instead.

"The Arlong Pirates..."

On the way back, because of Sam's unfinished final words and because Corvin had tasted the benefits of fish-man prey for the first time, his imagination inevitably wandered.

For now, it was only imagination.

The Arlong Pirates were far away in the East Blue. More importantly, with his current strength, going there would be suicide.

But the gains from a fish-man were genuinely tempting.

Of course, an ordinary fish-man might not produce much.

For fish-men on Sam's level, the places Corvin could think of were the Arlong Pirates in the East Blue, Fish-Man Island ten thousand meters beneath the sea, and the Sabaody Archipelago, where the supply of fish-man slaves was much larger.

The awkward part was that, by the time Corvin could go to those places, he might already be strong enough not to need them.

On the way back to the weapons shop, Corvin deliberately chose unlit routes. Unfortunately, he got lost.

With no other choice, he honestly took the rooftop route and made it back to the weapons shop safely.

After returning, Corvin quietly entered the washroom.

In the dark, he removed the mask and the death-mark armband, set them on the sink, then turned on the faucet and splashed water over his face.

He planned to dispose of those disguise pieces tomorrow.

Even if he needed something similar again, he would make a new set in a different style.

"Whew..."

Corvin wiped the water from his face and looked into the dark mirror. It reflected only blackness.

His constitution requirement was now on the right track. He began considering whether he should fill in the second requirement.

Once the idea surfaced, hesitation followed.

Swordsmanship, or martial arts?

When it came to martial arts, Corvin immediately thought of the Marines' Rokushiki: Soru, Tekkai, Kami-e, Geppo, Rankyaku, and Shigan.

When it came to swordsmanship, his clearest impression was of Zoro's dazzling techniques and Mihawk's overwhelming presence when he casually swung a blade.

For martial arts, he would need to learn the Rokushiki first before a martial-arts requirement could produce meaningful results.

For swordsmanship, he could take a shortcut and write down a broader melee-weapons requirement.

The problem was that once the category became too broad, the returns would be split across too many things.

Something passive like constitution already divided its gains between strength, endurance, speed, and other areas.

If he made the second requirement similar, he might end up with breadth at the cost of focus.

If he wanted to be ruthless, he could write something like talent, but talent was too vague and mysterious. Corvin did not want to gamble on it.

He probably would not decide in a short time.

Still, Corvin knew very well that he leaned more toward swordsmanship. There were only so many requirement slots, so he had to choose carefully instead of making a quick decision.

His logic was simple.

All else being equal, a blade was harder than a fist.

There was also one other key point: reach.

As he thought of that, an image appeared in his mind.

A tiny martial-arts stick figure darted through a crowd, leaving afterimages everywhere while shouting, "I can move so fast you'll forget how to breathe."

The swordsmanship stick figure simply pulled out something long and hard and said with disdain, "Mine's longer."

The debate ended there.

Corvin's thoughts returned to reality.

"Slowly."

Out of habit, he reminded himself there was no need to rush.

As long as he was patient enough, success was not as difficult as it seemed.

Click.

The light suddenly came on.

Corvin went still for a beat. In the mirror, he saw Sunny's reflection.

Sunny had turned on the light.

He had been so focused that he had not noticed her coming downstairs.

Looking at Sunny in the mirror, Corvin apologized. "Did I wake you?"

Sunny shook her head. "I wasn't asleep."

"At this hour? You still weren't sleeping?"

Corvin was surprised.

Sunny said nothing. She was looking at the mask and armband on the sink.

Especially the mask. If one did not look closely, it could easily be mistaken for the mask Arthur wore for work.

Seeing Sunny examine the mask and armband, Corvin turned around and subtly blocked her view. At the same time, he changed the subject and teased, "You're still awake this late. Don't tell me you were waiting for me to come back."

"I was."

Sunny nodded directly, showing none of the shyness people might expect from a girl.

Corvin froze, then burst out laughing. "Oh no. Don't tell me you've fallen for me."

Sunny immediately rolled her eyes and walked toward the kitchen.

"I'm hungry. Make me something. Make an extra portion too. Sol might be back soon."

"Go ahead. I'll be there in a minute."

Corvin agreed with a smile, planning to take the mask and armband upstairs first.

At the Mad Hatter Auction House, the black smoke had already dispersed, leaving the scene in ruins.

Surrounded by his men, Capone "Gang" Bege held a half-eaten Devil Fruit.

Because of the indescribable taste, his features were slightly twisted.

At his feet lay a middle-aged man with several bullet wounds.

"Bege!"

The middle-aged man forced his head up and glared. "A bastard like you, who built himself on bootleg liquor..."

Bege looked down at him without pity and swallowed the other half of the Devil Fruit.

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