One Piece: Scourge of the Seas

In the distance—a sniper!

The pressure Maude exerted made Bege completely forget about this unseen threat.

One by one, his men fell to well-aimed shots, each death carving deep into Bege's heart like a dagger.

Yet the sheer number of mafiosos far exceeded the rate at which bullets streaked through the night.

Even with members being picked off one after another, the rest of the mafia kept firing relentlessly at Maude.

Bang! Bang!

Gunfire echoed down the long street.

Exploiting his superior speed, Maude darted to the right, drawing the mafia's fire toward himself. With a leap, he scaled a nearby building, evading the first volley of bullets that rained down from below.

The mafia hadn't organized a proper firing formation to ensure continuous suppression. After emptying their first round of ammunition, they fell into a brief reloading lull.

Under normal circumstances, pirates would have drawn their melee weapons and rushed Maude by now.

But these mafiosos were hardened gunmen. Their reloading speed rivaled that of elite Marines.

In less than three seconds, they had reloaded and were ready to fire again.

During that time, Sol had already taken out over a dozen of the armed mafiosos.

As long as the mafia didn't drop their weapons, Sol would keep firing, forcing them to confront this harsh reality.

Despite Sol's relentless onslaught, the mafia obeyed Bege's orders, gritting their teeth as they raised their weapons toward Maude, who stood atop the building, and pulled the triggers with deadly intent.

Another barrage of bullets tore through the air, capable of shredding any man to pieces.

But Maude was as ruthless as ever. He dived into the narrow alleyways between the buildings, vanishing from sight.

"Damn it!"

The mafiosos were left in an awkward predicament.

They couldn't hit Maude, nor could they locate the sniper.

And then—

The sharp whistling of bullets filled the air again.

More men fell, one by one, their bodies hitting the ground lifelessly.

The mafia wasn't foolish enough to stand still, yet no matter how they zigzagged or scrambled for cover, the bullets flying through the night seemed almost alive, homing in on their targets unerringly.

What kind of monster is this?!

This was the shared thought of both the mafia and the bystanders witnessing the chaos.

Faced with such a sniper, most would be left crying for their lives. Calling out to heaven or earth wouldn't save them.

"Someone this strong lives in Mad Hat Town?"

"Now this is a sniper!"

"That's terrifying! Thank goodness I'm not in their shoes."

"The mafia is screwed! They don't stand a chance against such a horrifying sniper!"

"'Screwed'? They deserve it! I've been sick of those thugs for ages. Good riddance!"

The crowd murmured as Sol's skill on full display left them in awe.

The mafia, however, felt like they were facing death incarnate. Sol's relentless, precise gunfire showcased the true terror of a sniper, and for the first time, many onlookers felt a pang of pity for the gang's plight.

On the battlefield:

Bege gritted his teeth, his expression twisted in rage.

"Drop… drop your guns!"

He spat out the words, coughing up blood immediately after.

The remaining hundred or so gang members, hearing his command, tossed their firearms to the ground without hesitation.

And just like that, the deadly whistling of bullets ceased.

Bege's guess had been right: as long as they didn't use guns, the unknown sniper wouldn't fire.

"Take me out of here..."

Bege's vision blurred, white haze clouding the edges of his sight.

He was gravely injured.

He had overestimated himself—or perhaps underestimated his own mastery of the Castle-Castle Fruit.

When the cannon shell exploded, he hadn't closed the castle gates in time.

The subordinates hidden within his body were unharmed, but it felt as though his internal organs had been taken out, beaten to a pulp, and stuffed back in.

This mistake had left him in critical condition.

In his initial plan, unleashing his internal forces was supposed to be a turning point.

No matter how severe his injuries, they were within acceptable limits—at least, that's what he had believed.

But he had underestimated Maude's resilience.

Now, instead of gaining the upper hand, he had paid a steep price just to escape Maude's pursuit. His plan had gone completely off the rails.

This fight was no longer winnable.

Escape was the only option.

The mafiosos shared the same sentiment. The sniper's relentless precision had utterly crushed their will to fight. Bege's order to retreat sounded like salvation.

One of the mafia's senior members immediately lifted Bege, ready to carry him out of this nightmare.

But then—

A single bullet pierced through the human shield, killing him instantly.

The man collapsed without a sound, and Bege fell to the ground with him, groaning in pain as his injuries flared up.

Bege understood the meaning of that shot all too well.

It was a warning: Stay put.

Who is it?! Who's doing this?!

The helplessness of being toyed with drove Bege to the brink of madness.

He had always been the one in control, pulling the strings. Never had he imagined he'd be reduced to this state.

Rage and despair twisted his face.

At that moment, Maude emerged from the alleyway, standing boldly across from the remaining mafiosos.

He glanced at the discarded firearms scattered at their feet.

Sol's support was more effective than any gun control law, he mused silently.

Bege glared at Maude, his vision obscured by a faint white mist. His pride kept him from asking why Maude had come after him.

Without a command, the surviving mafiosos drew their daggers, glaring at Maude with feral determination.

Under the sniper's threat, this seemed to be their only option.

"You come here!!!"

One of the mafiosos cracked under the pressure and roared at Maude.

So what if they couldn't use guns? They still had the advantage in numbers.

Maude chuckled, pulling out his pistol.

Bang!

The shouting mafioso dropped dead instantly.

The remaining mafiosos froze.

Reloading his gun calmly, Maude said, "Why don't you come over here instead?"

And with that, he fired again.

This time, the bullet was aimed at Bege—but a loyal subordinate took the shot in his place, falling to the ground.

Maude didn't mind. He reloaded swiftly and fired again.

In less than ten seconds, three more mafiosos lay dead.

The gang members felt as though they were being toyed with—slowly and mercilessly.

Desperation drove some of them to action. Around ten gangsters stayed behind to protect Bege while the rest charged at Maude.

Maude continued to shoot, thinning their numbers with every pull of the trigger.

When the distance grew too close for shooting, he drew his sword, Dark Crow, and dove into the fray.

The clash was brief but brutal. Under Maude's blade, the mafiosos, stripped of their firearms, were no match for him.

Minutes later, the ground was littered with bodies.

The blade of Dark Crow was chipped in several places, the weapon nearly at its breaking point.

For its quality, it had held up admirably. A cheaper weapon, worth maybe 50,000 berries, would have broken after cutting through a single cannon shell.

Weapons like this were the reason blacksmiths stayed in business.

Maude gazed impassively at the last dozen mafiosos huddled around Bege.

"It's just you now," he said coldly.

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