Chapter Forty-Three: The Monster Aboard the Juventus (I)

At that moment, a man standing behind Teach—wearing a peculiar hat and a monocle telescope over his right eye—raised his musket and fired a shot directly at Ace’s brow.

He muttered, “This is fate!”

Yet Ace made no move to dodge. The bullet passed through his forehead, but, being a Logia-type Devil Fruit user, the passive elementization rendered him unharmed; the hole in his brow swiftly regenerated in a blaze of fire.

However, the lead bullet did not stop after passing through Ace. It sped straight towards Buffon, who stood behind him.

Buffon did not move, but Baggio, standing nearby, did. He drew the sword Autumn Water from Ryuma’s waist, leapt into the air, and with a mid-air somersault, sliced the bullet in two just ten centimeters from Buffon’s forehead.

The two halves of the bullet whizzed past Buffon’s ears, but he didn’t so much as flinch—not even a twitch of his eyebrow.

At that moment, Ace and Buffon spoke in unison: “What an ill-mannered fellow!”

Before either could react further, Baggio had already used a Six Powers technique—Shave—to flash behind the gunman, Autumn Water gleaming with a violet light as it slashed toward the man’s waist.

The man dodged and darted away, sprinting up Moria’s mast with astonishing agility, and Baggio pursued him upward.

Other than these two, the others refrained from action for now, quietly observing the unfolding situation.

Buffon, well-versed in the ways of the world, recognized the shooter as Van Augur, the sharpshooter under Blackbeard, known as “Supersonic.”

Teach’s crew had no understanding whatsoever of Buffon’s side’s strength, and Baggio’s earlier move had truly shocked them. Even Moria himself, having only a vague idea of Baggio’s abilities, now saw that he was indeed a formidable monster.

“Kee hee hee hee! Buffon’s taste is remarkable. Whether it’s the corpses or the shadows, the combination is simply superb!” Moria secretly praised in his heart.

On Teach’s side, he paid no more mind to Van Augur, confident his subordinate wouldn’t lose. He turned again to Ace and said, “By the way, Ace, how did you know I was here?”

“You’re already an outstanding captain. How could you ask such a pointless question?” Ace paused and then spoke with heavier emphasis, “After all those years on Pops’ ship, there’s no way you don’t know the current situation, Marshall D. Teach!”

Hearing this, Blackbeard’s expression shifted—not to despair, but to excitement. “Oh, I see now. But allow me to say one more thing—Ace, why not join my pirate crew? Together, we could rule the entire sea!”

Even Moria was stunned by this.

“So these are the rookies from Whitebeard’s ship? Each one more audacious than the last. Fire Fist Ace I can understand—he’s even been invited to join the Seven Warlords. But what’s with this Teach?”

As he pondered this, Teach declared something even more earth-shattering: “I’ve completed my plan for domination. The era of Whitebeard is over. I’ll be the next Pirate King!”

At these words, everyone on Moria’s side except Buffon displayed subtle changes in their expressions.

Moria, for instance, had considered becoming Pirate King before, but only as a fleeting thought—never had he dared to declare it so brazenly.

Buffon, always the sage, turned to Sauro behind him and asked, “Are all you D clan people like this?”

Whether Sauro didn’t hear or was feigning ignorance, he changed the subject: “If a fight breaks out, who should I take on?”

Without hesitation, Buffon replied, “The one with the wrestling mask! His name is Jesus Burgess.”

Blackbeard Teach cared nothing for the others’ stares and continued, “First, we take down the Drum Kingdom ahead…”

Before he could finish, Buffon casually picked up the three men he’d sewn together and tossed them at Teach’s feet, saying offhandedly, “Here, a gift for you!”

Teach looked down, pulled an exaggerated face, and exclaimed, “You—you’ve ruined my plan!”

As he spoke, the burly man with the wrestling mask charged forward, swinging his massive fists at Buffon and shouting, “Arrogant brat!”

But before he could even leap aboard the Juventus, Sauro struck him with a single punch.

Burgess, known as the Champion, was taller than Buffon by two heads, but against the giant Sauro, all his physical advantage vanished.

Sauro sent Burgess flying onto Blackbeard’s “raft” with one punch, then followed after him. Luckily, Blackbeard’s raft was sturdy enough not to be crushed under Sauro’s weight. Burgess climbed back up, brushing off splinters, and laughed, “A giant, eh? Hahaha! Let’s see how many suplexes you can withstand!”

Teach kicked Wapol in the face and continued his wild laughter: “Ace! Let’s join forces and slaughter Moria’s crew here, hand them over to the World Government, and take his place among the Seven Warlords!”

At this, Moria cackled as well. “Kee hee hee hee! Arrogant brat, even when you were still under Whitebeard, I wasn’t afraid of you—much less now!”

As he finished speaking and was about to act, Lafitte’s cane-sword flashed from its sheath, striking straight at Moria.

Just then, Ryuma behind Buffon spoke up: “Yohohoho! His weapon is just like my own. How can I let him fight someone else?”

With that, Ryuma snatched a sword from a general-class zombie nearby, stamped his wooden sandals on the deck, and vanished in a blur.

Lafitte’s sword was still half a meter from Moria when his body suddenly froze. Ryuma, now behind him with sword sheathed, murmured, “Nose Song Three-Part Arrowtail Slash!”

Lafitte’s V-neck floral shirt split into several pieces, but he did not fall. He turned to Ryuma, adjusted his hat brim arrogantly, and said, “A swordsman, is it? But I am much more than that!”

As he finished, a pair of white wings unfurled from his back. Soaring into the air, he drew a pistol from his overalls and began firing at Ryuma.

Ryuma strode forward into the hail of bullets, saying, “Yohohoho! Zombies aren’t afraid of bullets, you know!” Then his sword flashed out once more.

Meanwhile, the gaunt, sickly-looking man behind Teach finally made his move. Carrying a basket of red apples, he approached Perona, bent low, and with a grim face said, “Fate is often used to measure the value of one’s existence. Pick an apple.”

Moria noticed, and while directing his Shadow Master to attack, he also moved himself, urgently shouting, “Perona, be careful!”

At last, Buffon acted as well. The flying needles in his hand shot toward Perona, trailing silk threads.

“Perona, come here!”