"Woah~!"
"Someone like this came out of the East Blue?!"
"Look at that… I'm not mistaken—he's perfect prey!"
Delinger licked his fingers, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. A cruel grin stretched across his face, revealing rows of shark-like teeth.
Even the mere trace of killing intent leaking from Delinger was enough to make nearby contestants break into a cold sweat and instinctively distance themselves.
"Prey?"
Gin furrowed his brows at the provocation. He didn't understand why this stranger harbored such open hostility, but he remained calm and unshaken.
Two months ago, the moment he stepped onto this battlefield, Gin had made a vow: no matter what it cost, he would be the last man standing at this martial arts conference.
No opponent, no obstacle, would change that.
Besides…
"That posture... and those fins on his back—he's a fish-man hybrid?"
Staring at the jagged teeth inside Delinger's mouth, Gin was reminded of the terrifying fish-men from Cocoyasi Village. He muttered under his breath:
"Not that I'm a chef or anything, but according to the captain, when you kill a fish… you start by gutting it, right?"
He glanced down at the iron crutch in his hand and sighed slightly.
"Too bad I didn't bring a proper knife for this."
"Then again… regular blades might not even cut through this guy's hide."
The taunt hit a nerve.
Delinger's face darkened instantly.
His fighting fish bloodline had gifted him with overwhelming physical prowess, allowing him to rise to the rank of an officer in the Donquixote Family while still a teenager. He'd torn through opponents in the bullfighting arenas of the New World, earning countless victories—and even more corpses.
But that strength also came with its own bitter memories.
Now, being looked down on by this nobody from the East Blue… it was infuriating.
"You're dead!"
With a furious roar, Delinger vanished from sight.
The strength of the fighting fish, combined with ruthless training and brutal arena experience, made him one of the most dangerous combatants under Doflamingo's banner. His speed was ghostlike—inhuman.
Whoosh!
A sonic crack split the air.
The feral half-fish-man had already closed the distance in an instant. On his right foot was a razor-edged high heel, flashing like a blade as it arced toward Gin.
"Pistol High Heel!"
Enhanced by fish-man strength and breakneck speed, Delinger had once used this very attack to pierce through multiple warships. Against East Blue fighters, it should have been unstoppable.
The thought brought a twisted smirk to Delinger's lips—
BOOM!
A thunderous impact shook the arena. The stone floor cracked like a spider web, and dust exploded into the air, drawing all eyes toward the clash.
The first to react were the other contestants. Instinctively, they backed away, wary of being caught in the blast.
"Monster!"
"He's an actual monster!"
"Forget the rules—he's just here to kill!"
Spectator Seats.
The crowd, gathered for bloodsport, now wore expressions of feverish excitement. These were veteran fighting fans—many had traveled the world to see battles like this.
They knew the names, styles, and reputations of the most infamous fighters on the seas.
"Delinger's always had this bloodlust! Even back in Dressrosa, he killed for the thrill!"
"He's not here for the prize. He's here to satisfy his killing instinct."
One spectator tried to explain, only to notice the wild, red-eyed expressions on the faces around him—consumed by adrenaline and the promise of violence.
"It's only the beginning, and already this intense?!"
"The East Blue Martial Arts Conference… might be more than we hoped for!"
Still, not everyone was thrilled.
"Delinger's part fighting fish—he's naturally more vicious than most."
"Do you think the audience will be safe?"
Another glanced at the surrounding guards and, seeing the tightly packed security detail, relaxed slightly.
"But even so... will his opponent survive that?"
BOOM!
Another bang resounded, even louder than before.
Everyone turned to look.
From within the smoke and rubble, Delinger's body flew out, crashing into the stone with such force that it fractured the reinforced arena floor. Dust still clung to the air as he groaned, glaring down at the shallow dent carved into his chest.
His expression twisted in disbelief.
"This guy… he's strong!"
The smoke began to clear.
Gin stood firm at the center of the arena, chin slightly lifted, looking down at his opponent with cold disdain.
The iron crutch in his hand spun rapidly, the air around it vibrating with a sharp whistle that made even the audience's eardrums ache.
The crowd, stunned into silence for a moment, erupted again—
"Who the hell is this guy?!"
"What kind of aura is that?!"
"I've never seen him before!"
"His clothes... they look West Blue, maybe even Mafia?"
"No way—that strength? It's either the South Blue, the Grand Line... or maybe even the New World!"
Everyone began speculating about Gin's true identity.
Though they couldn't gauge his exact strength, anyone familiar with the bullfighting arena knew the name Delinger—a ferocious fish-man hybrid and a ruthless warrior who had dominated the ring since his teenage years.
To effortlessly counter the attack of such a monster… Gin was clearly no ordinary combatant.
"I've watched countless matches, but I've never seen this guy before!"
"So he's a newcomer?"
"A newcomer capable of that? No way!"
Despite their curiosity, no one thought to connect Gin with the East Blue.
After all, the East Blue was widely considered the weakest of the four seas. It hadn't produced any fearsome figures in recent years. The only noteworthy pirates from that region had emerged just in the past few months—and even among them, only Knight Gawain and two others had gained real fame.
But just then, an excited voice cut through the speculation.
"I remember now! I saw this guy's face on a bounty poster."
"Man-Demon Gin—20 million berries. One of the top officers of the Gawain Pirates!"
The revelation sent a wave of shock through the crowd.
"Someone like that... from the East Blue?!"
"With the power he just displayed, his bounty would easily be over 100 million in the Grand Line!"
"Unbelievable!"
"So the rumors were true… This martial arts tournament really is connected to that Knight Gawain!"
The mention of Gawain sparked a mix of awe and skepticism.
Some began to piece things together, assuming Gin's presence must mean the Gawain Pirates were involved in organizing the tournament.
But not everyone agreed.
"Come on, why would pirates go to all this trouble?"
"I heard the Kingdom of Goa is funding this whole event. They even helped Raven Harbor bypass World Government restrictions."
"Still, Gin's probably here for the Devil Fruit reward—nothing more."
"His strength might be shocking, but he's got to be the exception. Maybe even stronger than Gawain himself..."
While the audience argued and speculated, a guard stationed nearby pressed the brim of his cap lower, hiding a smirk. His posture straightened as he redoubled his attention.
Back in the arena, Gin and Delinger remained locked in a standoff.
Neither made another move—because at some point, the other contestants had surrounded them.
The air was heavy with tension, the glint of drawn blades sending a chill across the battlefield. But that danger also gave the others courage.
"On our own, we can't take either of them. But if we work together and eliminate them now, we might stand a chance!"
One contestant, spear in hand, swallowed hard as he stared at the two in the center of the ring. Fear flickered in his eyes—only to be quickly replaced by something darker: greed.
"Together!"
"Only by working together can we win the prize! Drive them out!"
The crowd's voice grew louder, more frenzied. With weapons raised, they looked at Gin and Delinger like cornered prey.
Group mentality had taken over.
When people act as a collective, especially under a strong shared goal, individual awareness and rationality often give way to mob fervor. In such moments, people can display an almost unnatural madness and efficiency.
Now, the gathered fighters were in exactly that state—many of them flushed with adrenaline and wild-eyed, their bodies surging with unnatural energy.
"Kill!"
The cry rang out from somewhere in the crowd—and chaos erupted.
Dozens charged forward with bloodlust in their eyes, weapons flashing as they swarmed toward Gin and Delinger.
Gin's expression didn't change. Calm and composed, he weaved through blades and spears, his iron crutch spinning through the air like a steel gale. One by one, he sent his attackers flying from the ring.
His gaze locked onto Delinger.
"Still in the mood to fight?"
"Let's deal with the small fry first."
"My thoughts exactly."
In the next instant, the two lunged—not at each other, but at the incoming crowd.
They struck like twin storms, carving a path of destruction through the arena. Bodies were flung in all directions. Some contestants splashed into the water surrounding the ring, their eliminations immediate and humiliating.
Others weren't so lucky—Delinger's brutal strikes launched them dozens of meters, slamming them into walls with bone-cracking force.
It wasn't until the dust settled that the surviving contestants realized the horrifying truth:
Against monsters like Gin and Delinger… sheer numbers meant nothing.
"OOOOHHHHHH!!!"
The audience erupted, their cheers deafening. Gasps, whistles, and cries of amazement echoed across the stadium.
Soon, only two figures remained standing in the arena: Gin and Delinger.
They faced each other, breathing evenly, eyes locked—an invisible fire blazing between them.