The Hunter of Pirates

Explosion?

Was it coming from the auction house?

Mobin's thoughts flickered, and he hesitated for a moment.

If the explosion really originated from the auction house, then something must have gone wrong. Trouble meant it might be easier to take advantage of the chaos—but it also meant greater risk.

To go or not to go?

After pondering for a while, Mobin made up his mind.

"Well, as long as I keep a safe distance, it should be fine."

As for Sol's safety? That wasn't even a concern.

Even if everyone at the auction house ended up dead, Mobin firmly believed Sol would undoubtedly be the last one standing.

Why?

Since the day he heard Sol explain the essence of a sniper's art, Mobin had come to understand one absolute truth:

If you can run fast enough, then no rain of bullets or flashing swords will ever catch you.

Mobin was convinced that Sol, as a veteran sniper respected even by the likes of Usopp's father, must have perfected this art of running to an unparalleled degree.

Decision made, Mobin stowed his gun and leapt upward, effortlessly landing on the rooftops.

The evening's hunt had yielded three pirate kills, and the tangible rewards had enhanced his abilities, including his jumping power. Jumping onto two or three-story buildings was now a trivial feat.

Traversing the rooftops, Mobin moved quickly toward the direction of the auction house.

In no time, he reached Watchpoint Street, where the auction house was located. After some effort, he found a suitable vantage point on a rooftop far enough from the commotion to avoid being caught up in it.

From this safe distance, he could clearly see black smoke billowing from the auction house. However, the details of the crowd outside were hazy—only rough shapes could be discerned.

Under these conditions, Mobin realized it might be time to invest in a tactical visor or a compact, portable monocular.

Something like that would allow him to observe clearly while staying safely out of harm's way.

"Should I get closer?"

Mobin deliberated but quickly shook his head.

"No, safety first."

If killing these pirates directly earned experience points, he might have been tempted to take the risk. After all, the rewards would have justified the danger.

But the limits of his Hunter's Notebook meant there was no need to risk it this time.

Instead, he chose to stay put in his safe zone and wait patiently.

If luck was on his side, someone would eventually deliver themselves right into his sights. If not, there would always be a next time.

Leaning against a tall chimney, Usopp in hand, Mobin watched the situation unfold near the auction house.

Thick smoke continued to rise, but the crowd outside seemed relatively calm, with no signs of major unrest.

Perhaps the auction house's armed guards had managed to keep things under control.

"Looks like it's all bark and no bite."

Mobin glanced at the smoke curling skyward, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

Without a fight breaking out, where was he supposed to find any easy opportunities?

In his mind, he had hoped for at least some form of chaotic melee. Maybe not on the scale of a life-and-death clash like the legendary Battle of Marineford, but a good scuffle would've sufficed.

Where there was fighting, there were injuries—temporary eliminations from the battlefield.

That would've been the perfect time for him to swoop in and pick off some weakened prey.

But alas, his elaborate plans seemed to be thwarted by the lack of disorder.

"Even a single troublemaker would do the trick."

Mobin muttered to himself.

As if to confirm the strange power of his words, another explosion rocked the auction house.

Immediately afterward, a figure burst through the thick smoke, rampaging into the crowd like a tank plowing through enemy lines.

"Hmm?"

Mobin perked up, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the scene unfolding below.

From his vantage point, he could only make out the rough outline of what looked like a "person" tearing through the crowd, scattering bodies in all directions.

"Well, now!"

Excitement flashed across Mobin's face.

Eager to get a better look, he abandoned his rooftop perch and began stealthily moving closer to the scene.

 Meanwhile, outside the auction house, the street was awash with blood and severed limbs.

A two-meter-tall fish-man was rampaging through the crowd.

"Out of my way!"

With a ferocious snarl, the fish-man's razor-sharp teeth gleamed like a set of deadly daggers. In a single bite, he tore a man into chunks.

What was worse, one of the fleshly remnants happened to fall right into his mouth.

Gulp—

The fish-man didn't spit it out but swallowed it whole, using it to partially satiate his gnawing hunger.

"Move! Get out of my way! I'm going back to the sea!"

His face smeared with blood, the fish-man roared while stretching his massive hands forward, seizing two pirates by their cheekbones.

With a sudden burst of terrifying strength, their skulls exploded like overripe melons.

Unrelenting, the fish-man continued his brutal charge, though the dense throng of humans hindered his progress. To any onlooker, it was clear he was on the brink of exhaustion and doom.

"It's a fish-man! Don't let him get close—shoot him, quick!"

Someone in the crowd shouted in panic.

Bang!

A shot rang out, but the bullet missed its target, instead hitting an unlucky pirate.

"Who the hell fired that shot?!"

The companion of the wounded pirate roared, incredulous that someone could be so incompetent in such an overwhelming numerical advantage.

 "Stand aside! Move aside!"

The auction house's armed guards forcibly carved a path through the crowd like an iron fist.

"Hold your fire! That fish-man slave is valuable merchandise!"

"Screw you! He's killing us, and you want us to hold back?!"

One enraged pirate, seething with the loss of his comrade, raised his gun to fire at the fish-man's back.

Before he could pull the trigger, a guard swiftly disarmed him in the chaos.

The pirate was stunned for a moment but turned to hurl profanities. Just as he opened his mouth, a gunshot rang out, silencing him forever.

 High above on a rooftop, Mobin observed the escalating chaos, his curiosity piqued.

"Who's giving all these assists?"

Packing up Usopp, he began moving quickly through the alleys.

Mobin wasn't fleeing; he was repositioning to scout for opportunities.

"Could there be another hunter at work here?"

As he approached the scene, he reflected on the earlier events. Initially, he had no idea that the "person" rampaging out of the auction house was a fish-man.

After watching for a while, the scene struck him as too "harmonious," so he decided to take a shot to stir the pot.

To his surprise, his single gunshot was followed by a flurry of "assists" from the crowd, setting off a chain reaction of violence.

 Listening to the gunfire and shouts echoing from the auction house, Mobin moved through the alleys, reloading his weapon as he went.

He wasn't running away—far from it.

He was just looking for a better position to catch any "fish" slipping through the chaos.

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