"It's actually them," Vivi and Miss Valentine exchanged a look of surprise. The pieces clicked into place instantly. The Unluckies must have reported back to Crocodile, who had then dispatched higher-ranking agents to intercept and eliminate them here.
A thoughtful, almost mischievous glint appeared in Miss Valentine's eyes as she turned to Leo. "Captain," she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "you know... Miss Golden Week is actually quite... unique. Perhaps you might be... interested...?"
"Eh?!" Vivi blinked, startled by the suggestion. They could just recruit people like this?!
Leo glanced at Miss Valentine, a slow, matching smirk spreading across his own face. "My thoughts exactly."
Inside a small, oddly-structured hut molded entirely from white wax, two figures were deep in discussion. On the pure white, candle-wax table lay two wanted posters.
Looking at the bold bounty amounts printed on them, Mr. 3 felt a familiar, greedy itch. "Added together, these guys are worth over 300 million Berries," he mused, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with naked avarice.
"Are Brogy and Dorry part of your plan as well?" Miss Golden Week asked, her voice as flat and emotionless as ever, as if discussing the weather.
"Of course they are!" Mr. 3 nodded without hesitation. "Their bounties combined are a full 200 million." Though when he mentioned the 200 million figure, he couldn't suppress a slight, condescending sneer. Brogy and Dorry had received their 100 million Berry bounties shortly after setting sail over a century ago. You'd think after all this time, it would be much higher. Still, 200 million was a substantial sum, worth the risk. As the saying went, the greater the risk, the greater the reward.
"They are very strong. I doubt we are a match for them," Golden Week frowned slightly. She had no desire to put herself in harm's way. If they angered the two giants, they'd likely be swatted aside like insignificant bugs.
"You're not wrong..." Mr. 3 rubbed his chin, not refuting her point. "That's why we need a perfect strategy. The best approach is to make them clash with Princess Vivi and her new friends. We'll let them weaken each other, and then we'll swoop in and claim the prize!" He slammed his fist into his palm, a triumphant look on his face. "I'm a genius! That brute, Mr. 1, who knows nothing but killing, isn't fit to be mentioned in the same breath as me. The Boss really doesn't know how to pick his top agents," he added, shaking his head in mock despair.
"Not a bad plan. So, how exactly did you intend to pull it off?"
A light, amused voice drifted in from the doorway.
The wax door to the hut was pushed open, and Leo walked in, flanked by Vivi and Miss Valentine.
"Princess Vivi?!" Mr. 3 gasped.
"And Miss Valentine?!" His eyes widened further.
"And you are...?" Mr. 3 squinted, his gaze darting to the wanted poster on the table. "Leo!"
These fools actually dared to come to him? They weren't taking the path to heaven he'd indirectly offered; they were barging through the gates of hell he was about to open! A wave of manic glee washed over him. His plan to pit them against the giants was born from caution, a way to let them soften up the real threats. But facing them directly like this? He had no fear of this ragtag group.
"Kuhahaha... Miss Valentine," Mr. 3 chortled, a mocking, superior smile on his face. "You dare show your face in front of me? You can't be ignorant of the price for betraying Baroque Works, can you?"
To his utter astonishment, his words elicited no reaction from Miss Valentine. Her face remained a placid lake.
Nani?!
What was this? Had joining the Leo Pirates made her lose all fear of the Boss?
It wasn't just her. Even Princess Vivi wore an expression of relaxed nonchalance.
Mr. 3's eyes swept over Leo, his confusion turning to scorn. "Did this 30-million-Berry rookie give you this courage?!"
Beside him, Miss Golden Week quietly set down her sketchbook and picked up her paintbrush, ready to work.
"Leo, I believe in you!" Vivi said, her voice firm.
"Go get him, Captain!" Miss Valentine cheered, her support unwavering.
Both women released Leo's arms and took a step back, their eyes settling on Mr. 3 with a look that could only be described as pity. The fates of Mr. 9 and Mr. 5 were still vividly etched in their minds. One thrown into the sea, the other charred to a crisp by lightning.
"I'll be damned! Now every nobody thinks they can look down on me, Mr. 3!" he snarled, his pride thoroughly wounded. "Candle Lock Fist!"
Enraged by their dismissive attitude, Mr. 3 struck without further warning. A torrent of waxy liquid erupted from his hands, rapidly solidifying into a massive, hardened fist-shaped gauntlet. With a sound like a cannon shot, the giant wax fist shot toward Leo like a projectile.
"Child's play."
In one fluid motion, Leo drew a standard cutlass he carried at his hip—not the Wado Ichimonji. With what seemed like a casual, almost lazy flick of his wrist, he sent a crescent-shaped arc of golden cutting energy slicing through the air.
The flying slash met the wax fist with overwhelming force, shearing through the hardened candle—which was supposed to be as tough as steel—as if it were soft butter, cleaving it cleanly in two.
"WHAT?!" Mr. 3's eyes bugged out comically, looking like they might pop right out of their sockets. His Candle Lock was as hard as iron! How could it be split apart by a simple, casual slash?!
This has to be fake!
"Compared to your fists, your mouth is definitely harder," Leo taunted, a derisive smirk on his face.
He casually swung his sword again, launching another golden slash.
Mr. 3's pupils constricted to pinpricks. A wave of icy terror shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. A flying slash that could cut through steel... if it were a named technique, a ultimate move, he could maybe understand. But that was just a basic attack?!
"Candle Wall!!!"
Acting purely on instinct, Mr. 3 gushed more waxy liquid from his body. It surged around him, instantly forming a thick, seemingly solid wall of wax in front of him.
BOOM!
The golden slash hit the wall. There was a brief moment of resistance before the Candle Wall shattered into a thousand waxy shards. The slash continued, its power barely diminished, and struck Mr. 3 square in the chest.
THWACK!
SPLURT!
Mr. 3 was thrown backward like a ragdoll, crashing hard against the wall of his own wax hut. A spray of crimson blood erupted from his mouth, painting the pristine white floor in a gruesome pattern.
"Cough— Cough—" Mr. 3 struggled, his hands slipping in his own blood as he tried to push himself up. His eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated terror as he stared at Leo.
Who the hell is this guy?! 30 million Berries?! This is the power of a 300 million Berry man!
"Still alive? Tch. This thing really isn't as good as the Wado Ichimonji," Leo muttered, a look of displeasure crossing his face as he examined the ordinary cutlass. He decided to finish the job.
SWISH!
With another effortless motion, he sent a final, precise slash cutting through the air.
Mr. 3 could only watch in abject horror as the golden arc of energy shot toward him. He could feel the life force draining from his body with terrifying speed. He tried to speak, to beg, to say anything, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his lips.
THUD.
His body slumped to the floor, landing in the expanding pool of his own blood.
Mr. 3 was dead.
A heavy silence fell over the wax hut, broken only by the faint, acrid scent of melted candle and the metallic tang of blood. Miss Golden Week had frozen, her paintbrush hovering motionlessly over her canvas, her large, usually impassive eyes now wide with shock. Leo flicked the blood off his borrowed blade and sheathed it, his expression returning to its usual calm composure. He then turned his gaze, full of intent and purpose, toward the small painter.
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T/N :
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