"Kid, it's not too late to back out now. Wait any longer, and I'll press this branding iron into your flesh."
Inside a sweltering room, a bear-like, muscular man named Houghton stood with a glowing-hot branding iron in hand, glaring menacingly at Aaron.
At this moment, the only two people in the room were Houghton and Aaron. Since Aaron had joined the Akio Gang, it was only natural he had to go through one of the gang's traditions—something inherited from a pirate crew: getting the gang's emblem branded onto his body.
Houghton had volunteered to handle the job himself, which led to this very scene.
Aaron kept a respectful, obedient expression. But when faced with the branding iron, there was not a shred of fear in his eyes—only a faint hint of anticipation.
Swiftly stripping off his shirt, he turned his back to Houghton and said loudly,
"Lord Houghton, please press the iron over the mark on my back. It's an old tattoo from a small gang I once joined—please help me erase it."
"That claw-like tattoo on your back is ugly as hell. Looks like the gang you were with before wasn't much to speak of. You're lucky you got to join the Akio Gang. Fine then—let me wipe this eyesore off for you."
Houghton looked at the mark on Aaron's back—a small Hoof of the Soaring Dragon, the brand given to former Celestial Dragon slaves. He scoffed, utterly unaware of the horrifying history behind it.
Without another word, he pressed the red-hot branding iron directly onto the old mark.
Instantly—szzzzzz~—the sound of burning flesh filled the air, along with the smell of roasted meat.
Aaron, long accustomed to pain, endured the searing agony without flinching. His face remained unnervingly calm—he even looked as though he was enjoying it.
From that moment on, the mark of slavery was gone.
"Not bad, kid. You've got guts. I'm starting to like you. Old Jack said you took out two of the Dars Gang's stronger members—I didn't believe him at first. Now I do. So, what do you say? Wanna work under me? I guarantee you'll be living the good life—eating your fill every day."
Houghton had changed his opinion of Aaron. He was used to seeing new recruits howl in agony during this ritual—it excited him. But Aaron? Aaron didn't make a sound.
He'd even kept the iron heating longer than usual to push Aaron to his limits, yet still didn't get a scream out of him. That was… disappointing—and impressive.
A man who could endure pain that would break most people was no ordinary person. Even though Aaron looked thin and frail, this kind of steel and courage could make him someone in the gang. If Houghton recruited him early, he might gain an exceptional subordinate.
Aaron, meanwhile, hadn't expected Houghton to try recruiting him. He, too, adjusted his impression—perhaps this brute wasn't as brainless as he looked. Crude, yes, but not blind.
Still, Aaron had no intention of working under Houghton.
Before joining the Akio Gang, he'd done his homework. He had even shared a cut from his previous smuggling profits with Old Jack—the scar-faced man who handled his shipments—just to learn the gang's internal structure.
The Akio Gang was the most powerful crew in Velia Port, controlling nearly half the city. With such a large territory, the gang split control among five senior officers:
Reggie – controlled the docks.
Gaitra – controlled the entertainment district.
Raj – controlled the commercial district.
Jim – controlled the residential area.
Houghton – controlled the slums.
From this alone, Aaron knew Houghton was the weakest of the five in terms of influence. His territory was the largest but the poorest, with almost no real profits. Working under him would never be the life of luxury he promised—being able to eat was probably the best one could hope for.
Houghton also had no valuable skills to teach and was far too reckless. Aaron's future under him would be bleak, with slim chances of promotion.
Aaron's ideal choice was Akio, the gang leader himself—being at the boss's side meant endless opportunities and wealth. But that was nearly impossible. As a newcomer with an unknown background, he'd never be placed directly under the leader without proving himself.
At the very least, he'd need time to earn trust and make a major contribution before that became an option.
So Aaron settled on Reggie instead.
Unlike Houghton, Reggie's turf—the docks—was the smallest but richest. There was always profit to be made, and the docks were hotly contested. Many gangs wanted a share, leading to frequent conflicts.
And in conflict… there were chances to rise. If Aaron could kill rivals and show overwhelming strength, followers would naturally gather around him.
The Dars Gang, which had recently risen in the city, was already provoking trouble at the docks. Aaron saw this as the perfect opportunity.
He also admired Reggie's swordsmanship. The old swordsman had earlier intercepted Houghton's strike with such speed that even with Aaron's Observation Haki, he'd only seen a blur. Clearly, Reggie was a master—and worthy of his position as dock overseer.
"What's the matter, kid? Think you're too good for me?"
Houghton's voice turned sharp when Aaron didn't answer immediately.
He hated being refused. If Aaron dared reject him outright, he'd make sure the rookie couldn't survive in the gang.
"Wha—what? Of course not, Lord Houghton! It's just… ngh… hurts so much right now—hsss—I'm afraid I might say something clumsy and upset you."
Aaron knew better than to anger a senior officer now. He turned his head, gritted his teeth, and put on an expression of intense pain.
Seeing Aaron's "tormented" face, Houghton felt a rush of pleasure and grinned wide. "Hah! Almost forgot you're still feeling the burn. So you do feel pain! I thought you were made of steel. Forget what I said earlier—just wait for the higher-ups to assign you."
Then, for good measure, he pressed the still-glowing iron onto an unmarked patch of Aaron's skin, forcing more cries out of him. Only when the iron had cooled completely did he stop. Without another glance at Aaron, he left the room in high spirits.
"Damn sadist," Aaron muttered once Houghton's footsteps faded.
The fake look of agony vanished from his face, replaced with a calm, cold expression. On his back now were three Akio Gang emblems, arranged in a triangle.
His eyes burned with a deep, murderous intent.