The scene cuts back to Hell's Kitchen.
In a dead-end alleyway.
"Bang!" A man covered in blood was kicked heavily against the wall, letting out a painful dry heave.
"No money? Huh? You say you have no money?" The leading brute wore a studded leather jacket and swung a telescopic baton in his hand. With a face full of scars and fat, he cursed, "Every rat in this block knows that you can owe anyone money except my boss! I think you want to be chopped up and flushed down the sewer, don't you?"
Several lackeys nearby joined in the jeering, letting out unpleasant, eerie laughs.
However, before the words had even finished echoing.
As if specifically to cooperate with his sentence.
Squeak, squeak.
Several fat rats suddenly scurried out from the corner in perfect unison.
They didn't run away at the sight of people as they usually did. Instead, they stopped side-by-side at the entrance of the alley, raised their heads, and stared straight at the brute with their black-bean-like eyes.
That gaze seemed to say: "Who called me?"
"Shit, what the hell are these things?"
The brute was startled by this eerie scene. "Have the rats in this dump become spirits? They can understand human speech?"
Suddenly.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of leather shoes stepping on the sewage-strewn road rang out abruptly.
The thugs paused and instinctively looked back.
A tall woman was seen walking toward the alley entrance.
She wore a black Public Safety coat that didn't seem to belong to this World, her hands clasped behind her back, her posture as upright as an officer undergoing inspection.
Her long red hair was braided and hung behind her head. Her golden ringed eyes emitted a heart-palpitating sense of tranquility under the dim light.
"Excuse me," Makima tilted her head slightly, her voice gentle and polite.
"Pardon the interruption, but are you gentlemen Mr. Fisk's people?"
The lackeys looked at each other, faces full of confusion.
Thugs of this level were usually only responsible for collecting protection money and had no contact with the level of Kingpin; they only knew they worked for the gang.
The leading brute clearly knew a bit more.
"Who are you?" The brute frowned upon hearing Fisk's name, eyeing Makima warily and pointing his baton at her with an unfriendly tone: "Who we work for is none of your business! Get lost if you've got nothing to do! Careful I don't take you out along with—"
He didn't even have time to finish his threat.
The smile on Makima's face didn't change in the slightest, but those golden concentric-ringed eyes widened just a fraction.
In that instant.
Vroom.
An indescribable aura belonging to a high-level predator instantly enveloped the brute.
It was as if an ant suddenly realized it was standing beneath the foot of a giant.
That absolute recognition of 'rank' originating from the depths of his genes arrogantly invaded his brain.
The brute's hand, holding the baton, froze in mid-air.
His pupils contracted violently, and cold sweat poured from his forehead like a waterfall.
His originally fierce expression turned dull, then transformed into a near-pious obedience.
"I... I am..." The brute's voice trembled as he slowly lowered his weapon. Then, as if meeting a Master he had served for many years, his arrogant attitude instantly became eager: "You are right, I am one of Mr. Fisk's men..."
"This ability... no matter how many times I see it, it feels sinister."
Seeing this scene, even Su Modie couldn't help but suck in a cold breath.
"Fortunately, this is my avatar... if this were an enemy... I don't know how difficult it would be to deal with."
The only pity was that Makima was too rational and calm; her judgment of enemies and situations was practically 100% correct. There would basically never be a situation where an enemy was clearly much stronger than her, yet she subjectively believed she was stronger and thus forced control... In other words, Makima was too self-aware... This was a strength that raised the floor of her ability, but from a certain perspective, it also acted as a disguised limit on the ability's ceiling.
In the alley, the nearby lackeys were dumbfounded.
"Boss? What's wrong with you? Who is this broad?"
"Boss, are you okay?"
Makima ignored the noisy voices. She maintained her elegant posture with her hands behind her back and smiled at the now-submissive brute: "Then, could you please take me to see him?"
"Yes... yes, Madam."
As if possessed, the brute nodded mechanically and turned to lead the way.
"Hey! Boss! Have you gone crazy?"
One lackey finally couldn't take it and reached out to grab the brute.
Makima's gaze drifted over lightly.
Wherever her gaze landed, it felt as if an invisible giant hand had gently brushed past.
"You all, come along as well."
Her tone was casual, as if she were allowing a few stray dogs to follow her.
Thump.
The lackey who reached out, as well as the other thugs who were still shouting, suddenly jolted.
The doubt and ferocity in their eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by the same thing as those rats—emptiness and obedience.
Without any warning, just a single sentence, a single look.
This group of thugs, who had been insufferably arrogant just moments ago, were now like a pack of well-behaved pet dogs.
They lined up neatly, clustering around Makima and respectfully clearing the way for her.
Leaving behind only the debtor, who had been beaten half to death, slumped on the sewage-soaked ground, staring at the scene in wide-eyed shock.
"What... what on earth is... going on?"
...In the evening, the moonlight was eerie.
An unremarkable business building located in the core area of Hell's Kitchen.
It was called a business building, but gang members within a few kilometers all knew.
This was the office of the Fisk Group and an absolute forbidden zone for the entire New York underworld.
However, at this moment.
The magnificent revolving doors on the first floor of the building, paved with expensive marble, were slowly pushed open.
Those thugs, who were originally fierce and malicious, now looked like professionally trained British butlers.
They bowed gentlemanly, using their blood-stained hands to carefully push the glass doors. With hair-raisingly fawning smiles on their faces, they made a 'please' gesture behind them.
Immediately after, Makima walked in elegantly, hands behind her back, stepping onto the polished marble floor that shone like a mirror.
"Stop! What gang are you from? This place is off-limits—"
Two security guards in black suits, with bulging waistlines, immediately approached alertly, their hands instinctively reaching for the guns in their holsters.
However, Makima did not stop her pace.
She only tilted her head slightly, her golden ringed eyes calmly watching the two security guards, a gentle curve forming at the corners of her mouth: "I am just an ordinary guest. You should know how to receive a guest, right?"
The moment the words fell.
The two security guards' movements to reach for their guns froze in mid-air.
Dear Reader,
A special 60% discount offer available Don't miss this opportunity to enjoy your favorite stories at a greatly reduced price.
The offer is available for a limited time only — grab it before it ends!
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898