The Hunter of Pirates

Saving a fishman... to kill a fishman.

This strange logic was beyond Clara's comprehension as a mere bystander.

Thus, she purely assumed that Mobin was trying to save the fishman.

While finding it incredible, her curiosity about Morin's true identity grew stronger.

Meanwhile, on the long street, the enslaved fishman, desperate to escape back to the sea, also noticed something unusual.

Someone's helping me?

For a brief moment, the fishman found himself in the same puzzled state as Clara.

Who?

Why would anyone help me in a place like this?

Shaking his head abruptly, the fishman had no time for such thoughts and focused on running for his life.

However, he wasn't a fool.

Having experienced firsthand what it meant to be a live target, he knew better than to keep running down the open street.

He suddenly turned sharply, dashing into the alleys between the buildings.

The surrounding pirates, who had been enjoying the spectacle, noticed the fishman's clever maneuver. While regretting that they couldn't get a few more shots in, they weren't stupid enough to pursue him.

After all, they were well aware that the fishman slave was property of the auction house in Mad Hat Town.

When in a crowd, shooting for fun and accidentally killing the slave might spread responsibility among everyone, making it less of an issue.

But helping the auction house catch the fishman slave alive? That kind of risk and reward didn't match up—only someone with a death wish would try that.

As they watched the fishman slave disappear into the alleys, the pirates shifted their attention to the three dead bodies of their fellow crew members, along with the chaotic melee in front of the auction house entrance.

On the rooftop, Mobin observed the fishman turning into the alleys, a satisfied smile appearing beneath his mask.

This is more like it...

The thought of soon testing whether his Hunter's Notebook would also work on fishmen made his heart race.

When he first designed his ability, the intent was to make full use of his advantage as a transmigrator with knowledge of this world.

Thus, on a subconscious level, the Hunter's Notebook, as its name implied, was designed with the purpose of "hunting" and "humans."

In Morin's initial vision, his prey didn't include beings like fishmen or giants.

However, both fishmen and giants had certain overlaps with humans.

Therefore, Mobin felt the chances of his ability working on them were quite high.

If it did, his range of potential prey would expand significantly.

At that point, fishmen and giants would become particularly valuable targets.

Though, despite the high reward, compared to the numerous pirates scattered across the seas, fishmen and giants were more akin to rare monsters.

Unless one ventured directly into their territories, they were mostly elusive and hard to come by.

"The physical resilience of fishmen is truly astounding. Even after taking so many injuries, he can still maintain this speed," Mobin thought as he followed closely behind the fishman slave.

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

Seeing no signs of the fishman slowing down, Mobin remained calm, though slightly surprised.

Letting the fishman run a bit more would work in his favor—blood loss and exhaustion would eventually take their toll, making the fishman easier to handle.

Earlier, Mobin had watched the fishman's rampage through the crowd, taking note of his fierce capabilities.

Now, like a patient wolf stalking its prey, he trailed behind, waiting for the moment when the fishman would falter from fatigue.

To guard against potential interruptions, Mobin slowed his pace slightly, loading his weapons as he chased.

Even though his physical abilities had improved considerably, firearms still gave him the greatest sense of security.

As long as his opponent wasn't someone who could shrug off bullets, Mobin was confident he could handle them.

After roughly ten minutes, the side effects of the fishman's injuries began to show.

First came excessive blood loss, leaving him weak and unsteady.

Then, his speed significantly decreased.

Cautious of unexpected variables, Mobin decided it was time to act.

He abruptly sped up, leaping swiftly across rooftops before landing in front of the fishman.

Startled, the fishman came to a sudden halt.

The abrupt stop, coupled with his weakened state, caused him to stumble forward.

Damn it...!

The fishman's heart raced in panic.

To his surprise, the human in front of him didn't take advantage of the situation to finish him off.

Steadying himself with great difficulty, the fishman panted heavily, warily watching the human who had suddenly appeared.

His gaze swept over the dagger in Morin's hand and the long-barreled gun partially visible over his shoulder. Alarmed, the fishman ignored his exhaustion and prepared to charge forward.

Strike first!

Bang!

The fishman froze.

An iron bullet struck the ground near his feet, wisps of smoke rising into the air.

"Foolish human," the fishman sneered, seeing that Mobin had wasted the only bullet in his flintlock gun.

In such tight quarters, the fishman's biggest fear had been firearms. That's why he had risked an aggressive charge upon noticing the gun slung across Morin's back.

But to his surprise, the human had deliberately fired a warning shot.

Uncertain of the reason but seeing no need to dwell on it, the fishman resumed adjusting his breathing, regaining his composure.

After firing the shot, Mobin casually tossed the empty gun aside.

"Though you're a fishman, I, Arthur, have never been one to exploit others when they're down."

Mobin tilted his head slightly, his eyes behind the mask's slits fixed intently on the fishman's battered body.

"I see that you're gravely injured and winded from running for your life. I'll give you five minutes to rest."

"..."

The fishman's eyes widened in disbelief.

So that's it.

No wonder he deliberately missed.

Tch, what a ridiculous sense of honor.

Humans are so foolish.

Five minutes?

The fishman smirked internally. He didn't even need three minutes to recover enough strength.

Once he was ready, there was no way he'd wait the full five minutes.

He'd strike immediately and escape this troublesome place.

As Mobin watched the fishman focusing on his recovery, he spoke solemnly, "I don't kill nameless foes. State your name."

He raised his dagger, holding it horizontally before him.

The fishman glanced at the dagger and sneered coldly.

Even injured, he was confident that in close combat, he could crush this human armed only with a dagger in mere moments.

"Seadon Samm," he replied curtly.

He thought of adding a threat but deemed it unnecessary. Soon, he'd crush this human's skull.

"Seadon Samm, huh?"

Mobin smiled faintly, studying the fishman's bloodstained features.

After a moment, he abruptly stepped back and sheathed his dagger.

Samm froze, confused by Morin's actions.

Then, to his shock, Mobin summoned a notebook out of thin air.

"Hmm? Could it be… a Devil Fruit user?!"

Realizing the danger, Samm abandoned his recovery and charged toward Morin.

Unfazed, Morin, like a judge delivering a verdict, swiftly wrote Samm's name and his feats of strength in the Hunter's Notebook.

"No matter what your ability is, as long as I get close…"

Samm lunged forward, raising his webbed hand, ready to crush Morin's face.

But suddenly, his expression changed drastically.

Mobin dismissed the notebook and pulled out a flintlock pistol from his coat.

Bang!

The shot struck Samm squarely, blood spraying as the impact halted his advance.

"You…!"

Samm collapsed, stunned, and helpless.

Mobin calmly drew another pistol and fired again, ensuring Samm was down for good.

"You dishonorable bastard… Arthur… Arlong will… will definitely…"

Before he could finish, Samm breathed his last.

"Arlong?"

Hearing the name in Samm's final words, Mobin raised an eyebrow.

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