Though it was Sherlock's first time facing an Animal-type Devil Fruit user, he was certain that a single shot wouldn't take down Duncan. Otherwise, that bounty worth over a hundred million Berries would've been far too cheap.
Accompanied by a low, guttural beastly roar, Bearman Duncan clambered out of the rubble. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, but it only seemed to amplify his ferocity. His bear-like eyes glowed red, and his gaping maw revealed dagger-sharp teeth, drool spilling in heavy drops that splattered onto the ground with each labored breath. Sherlock grimaced at the sight.
Disgusting, he thought.
"ROAR!" Duncan bellowed, then charged at Sherlock on all fours, like a tank at full throttle. Sherlock, however, stood frozen, as if paralyzed by fear.
Duncan's eyes gleamed with bloodlust as he opened his jaws wide, lunging to chomp down on Sherlock's head. He could already picture the blood spraying in glorious chaos.
But then, something miraculous happened. Duncan's massive frame passed straight through Sherlock's body, his momentum carrying him crashing through a wall, shattering it to pieces.
"Hey, hey, hey, where are you pouncing?" Sherlock's mocking voice called from behind.
Duncan shook his dazed head and turned toward the sound, only to see a dozen "Sherlocks" staring back at him, each with identical movements and expressions.
"Illusions… Is this your Devil Fruit power?" Duncan asked.
"Something like that…" The dozen Sherlocks answered in unison, their overlapping voices echoing eerily from all directions.
"Let's play a game."
"I'll stand here and won't dodge. You pick one to attack. Choose wrong, and I'll shoot you. How's that, little bear?"
"Bastard!" Feeling insulted, Duncan roared, his claws slashing through the air with whistling force. He attacked every illusion in a frenzy, only to find not one was Sherlock's real body.
"Such a pity. You got them all wrong." All the Sherlock illusions turned their heads in unison to face Duncan.
"You attacked thirteen illusions, so I'll shoot you thirteen times. Good thing I have my mirror duplicates, or I might've run out of bullets…"
Bang! A gunshot rang out from the void, and a massive lead bullet struck Duncan's stomach. He grunted, spitting blood, his hulking body sent flying backward. Before he even hit the ground, the second shot rang out…
Bang, bang, bang…
After thirteen shots, Sherlock dispelled the illusions, his real form slowly materializing from the void.
From the start, Sherlock had never given Duncan a chance to pick the right target.
Looking at the bearman lying on the ground like a dead dog, Sherlock holstered his pistol and sauntered toward the still-twitching Duncan.
It had to be said—Duncan's durability was impressive. As expected of an Animal-type Devil Fruit user, his thick hide and tough flesh withstood close-range shots equivalent to a Marine warship's main cannon. Instead of being blasted to pieces, he merely suffered superficial wounds and coughed up a bit of blood.
When they were just a few meters apart, Duncan, who had been playing dead, suddenly sprang up. His bloodshot eyes burned with rage as he swung a massive bear paw at Sherlock's head.
"I knew you wouldn't go down that easily." Facing the crushing blow, Sherlock was unfazed. With a thought, a shimmering barrier appeared over his skin.
"Mirror Reflection!"
Time seemed to freeze. The immense force, capable of splitting mountains, rebounded the instant it touched Sherlock's skin. A sickening crack of breaking bones followed. Duncan first felt his right arm go numb, then an excruciating pain flooded his entire mind.
"This guy's too weak. Is the only thing Animal-type Devil Fruits are good for taking a beating?" Sherlock mused to himself.
It wasn't that the Bear-Bear Fruit was weak—there were no useless Devil Fruits, after all. But Duncan, pampered and complacent, couldn't harness its true power. He could only bully ordinary people. Moreover, the Mirror-Mirror Fruit's abilities were a perfect counter to brute-force enemies like him.
Duncan's right arm was twisted into a grotesque shape. The searing pain forced him out of his bearman form, his bloodshot eyes wide as he let out chilling screams.
Sherlock adjusted his glasses, crouched down, and rummaged through Duncan's tattered, beggar-like clothes. Soon, he pulled a finely crafted key from an inner pocket.
Duncan tried to stop him but jolted his wounded arm, nearly fainting from the pain, powerless to act.
Wiping the blood off the key with a hint of disgust, Sherlock flashed Duncan a smile.
"By the way, that stack of evidence earlier? Just blank paper. I was messing with you. Didn't think you'd actually believe it."
Duncan's eyes widened, his fleshy face trembling with rage.
Sherlock dangled the key, ignoring Duncan's murderous glare, and said calmly, "Evidence or not, it doesn't matter now. I just hope your little treasury has something worth my while."
Duncan's twisted expression shifted slightly, a subtle change Sherlock didn't miss.
Nodding with satisfaction, Sherlock pocketed the key and drew his pistol again.
"Don't worry, I'm not one to let grudges slide. I'll deal with the Marines too, but…"
He aimed the gun at Duncan's increasingly terrified face, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
"You won't be around to see it."
"Wait! No… don't! I—"
Bang! A crisp gunshot echoed through the wreckage-strewn room.
Holstering his pistol, Sherlock brushed off nonexistent dust from his clothes and calmly left the scene of the killing.
It was his first time taking a life with his own hands, but Sherlock remained composed. Don't call him cold-blooded—after all, as a savvy businessman, he'd learned early on: mercy was for friends and family. Showing it to enemies was cruelty to oneself.
Using the key to unlock the treasury's door, Sherlock gazed at the dozen neatly arranged chests of precious jewels. Even someone as worldly as him was momentarily stunned.
As expected of an old East Blue trading company. Quite the fortune.
"This is the fastest way to make money," Sherlock muttered, toying with a massive ruby.
After storing all of Duncan's private wealth in his Mirror Space, Sherlock draped a wide cloak over himself and stepped out of the villa. Waiting for him were hundreds of fully armed Marines.
Glancing at the insignia on their uniforms, Sherlock subtly adjusted his glasses, a faint smirk on his lips.
"Fourth Division, huh…"
His expression didn't change. He'd already sensed something off from Duncan's reaction to the key, so he'd deliberately opened the treasury the wrong way to lure out the snakes.
A Marine officer, cloaked in a Navy coat, stepped forward upon seeing the suspicious cloaked figure. "You there! You're surrounded! Drop your weapon and surrender, or we'll open fire!"
The Marines raised their rifles in unison, loading and aiming.
Facing hundreds of guns, Sherlock was undaunted. He tightened his cloak and strode forward calmly.
The dark figure blended into the dark night, the distance between them closing.
The air grew heavy, the tension oppressive.
"Stop moving, or we'll shoot!" the Marine officer shouted, a vague sense of unease creeping into his heart.
Sherlock's steps remained steady, unhurried.
Gulp. A few nervous Marines swallowed hard, their palms sweaty on their rifles.
"Fire!" the officer commanded.
Bang, bang, bang… The Marines unleashed a volley, but what followed were their own screams and the sound of their rifles exploding in their hands.
With Mirror Reflection active, though it drained his stamina heavily, Sherlock was invincible unless an attack exceeded his reflection limit. Every assault was like light hitting a mirror—sent right back where it came from.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" the officer shouted frantically.
"He's a Devil Fruit user! Bullets won't work! Switch to close combat!"
"Close combat? Alright, you've had your shots. Now it's my turn."
Sherlock drew his ornate pistol again, duplicating it with a mirror entity. Holding a gun in each hand, his figure gradually vanished under the moonlight, leaving the charging Marines, swords in hand, frozen in shock.
The moon hung like a jagged blade, the wind howling like a wolf.
This night was destined to be sleepless.