As the Arrowfish slowly docked, what greeted the crew was a vast grassland so flat it seemed almost unbelievable.
"W-What kind of island is this supposed to be?"
Ardo jumped off the ship first and stomped on the thick, soft turf beneath his feet.
"Where are the trees? The mountains? There's not even a proper rock! This place is flat enough to be a racetrack!"
"Look! What the hell is that?!"
Following the direction of his finger, they saw a brown bear strolling leisurely on two legs.
…Or rather, it was more accurate to call it a giraffe bear.
Its torso looked normal enough, but its neck and limbs were absurdly long, making it resemble a gigantic furry marionette.
"M-My god… that bear's neck…!"
"Hahahaha! I can't take it! Look at the way it walks!"
Long Ring Long Land, just like its name suggested, seemed governed by a strange evolutionary rule:
Longer is better.
Every creature on the island followed this bizarre principle, creating an ecosystem that was both surreal and strangely comical.
"Captain, the Log Pose points here. Looks like we're in the right place… though Gillian and his people haven't arrived yet."
"Mm."
Sami withdrew his gaze from the bizarre wildlife.
"Alright, enough sightseeing. According to the information, there's a nomadic tribe living on this island."
"Split into squads and scout the area. Stay alert."
"Yes, Captain!"
The crew quickly divided into teams and spread out into the grasslands.
Reports soon came back one after another.
"Report! No human presence to the east—only animals!"
"We found some abandoned dome-shaped houses in the island's center. Completely empty—no signs of habitation."
"Same situation in the west, south, and north."
"Looks like they migrated elsewhere," Sami said.
"Good. That saves us trouble. We'll temporarily use those houses as lodging. Keep everything intact—don't break anything."
"OOOH—!"
The crew cheered.
Sleeping in real houses was far better than tents.
Once settled, their excess energy naturally demanded an outlet.
A patch of grass quickly turned into a temporary training ground.
"Come on, come on! Place your bets! No refunds!"
A quick-witted sailor had somehow found a wooden box and turned it into a betting table.
He shouted loudly.
"Latest odds! Captain's blindfolded bullet-dodging training!"
"Odds: hit more than three times—1 to 1.5!"
"Hit three times or fewer—1 to 2!"
"Perfect dodge—1 to 3!"
"Place your bets before it's too late!"
The crowd instantly grew lively.
Sailors laughed and crowded around.
Berries and random personal items quickly piled up beside the box.
"I bet 1,000 the captain only gets hit twice!"
"No way. Johnny's shooting improved a lot lately. Five hits at least—500 on that!"
"I bet perfect dodge! Captain's unbeatable!"
Leon wandered over to watch the betting for a moment.
Then he noticed Hans sitting alone on a nearby slope.
Hans held a notebook and pen, sketching the sky and the long-necked animals in the distance, completely ignoring the noisy crowd.
Leon sat beside him.
"Hans, why aren't you betting? If you win, drinks are on you."
Hans didn't even look up.
He pushed up his glasses.
"They said I predict outcomes too accurately."
"They've officially banned me as an unwelcome gambler."
"Pff—HAHAHAHA!"
Leon burst out laughing and slapped his shoulder.
"That actually happened?"
"So what do you think this time? Will the captain get hit?"
Hans finally paused his writing.
He glanced toward the training field where Sami stood blindfolded.
Then at Johnny, who was carefully checking his pistols.
"I'm not telling."
"Wait for the result."
"Oh come on!" Leon nudged him. "What's your secret? Teach me so I can make some pocket money next time."
Hans didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stared thoughtfully at the strange animals across the grassland.
"…It's just a feeling."
"If you observe enough, you start to feel which outcome is more likely."
Leon scratched his head, half understanding, half confused.
"Look! It's starting!"
Someone shouted.
All eyes turned to the center of the field.
Sami stood there with a black cloth tightly covering his eyes.
He remained completely still.
Entering a state of extreme perception.
Twenty paces away stood Johnny, the fastest-rising young gunslinger in the Jellyfish Pirates.
He rolled his wrists, loosening his fingers.
"Captain Sami! Ready?"
"I'll warn you first—my guns are fast."
"Come then, Johnny."
Sami tilted his head slightly toward Johnny's direction.
"Let's see how fast."
The next instant—
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Twin pistols erupted the moment they left the holsters.
The gunshots blended into one continuous roar.
Even more terrifying—
Johnny started moving the instant the first shot fired.
He dashed in irregular zigzag patterns.
Shooting from constantly shifting angles.
Bullets tore through the air toward the blindfolded captain.
Sami's head tilted slightly.
His body followed with subtle motions.
Sway.
Step.
Lean.
First shot—miss.
Second—miss.
Third—miss.
"All right!"
"Come on Johnny! I bet big on you!"
Johnny's eyes flashed with excitement.
His speed suddenly increased.
Two-Finger Style: Hummingbird!
His fingers blurred on the triggers.
The firing rate became absurd.
Bullets poured out from multiple angles, sealing most escape paths and forcing Sami into larger movements.
Against such relentless fire—
Sami's movements gradually lost their effortless flow.
After all, relying solely on hearing and perception placed enormous strain on both mind and body.
THUD!
One bullet grazed his arm.
Blood sprayed briefly.
Then another struck his shoulder.
Another grazed his thigh.
Sami's body rocked slightly from the impacts.
Thanks to the Human-Human Fruit's powerful vitality and regeneration, such flesh wounds barely mattered.
Finally—
The gunfire stopped.
Johnny stood there panting heavily.
Smoke curled from his pistols.
Such high-speed mobile shooting was exhausting even for him.
Sami removed the blindfold.
Several bleeding wounds stained his dark clothes, though the bleeding had mostly stopped.
Still not good enough…
Where's the problem?
But he quickly adjusted his mood.
Looking at Johnny, he smiled approvingly.
"Not bad, Johnny."
He walked over and patted his shoulder.
"The transitions during movement shooting, the sudden rhythm changes, and those final shots sealing my dodge paths based on my habits…"
"Big improvement."
"Especially your irregular movement creating blind angles. That's clever."
Johnny flipped his pistols with a flourish and holstered them smoothly.
"Thank you, Captain! I'll keep pushing my limits!"
"Good. Go rest."
"Yes, sir!"
Johnny walked back proudly like a decorated hero.
The crowd greeted him with cheers and whistles.
"Johnny! The captain praised you personally!"
"That was awesome!"
"Teach us how you shoot that fast!"
Johnny basked in the attention.
He raised both hands dramatically.
Showing off his long, flexible fingers.
Then he began twisting them in strange wave-like motions—bending and stretching them rapidly in ways that seemed to defy joint limits.
"The secret?"
"It's these hands!"
"See this flexibility? This strength? These finger joints that can bend seven times per second!"
"This is the result of endless training!"
"As long as you develop hands like these, someday you too can—"
Sami's smile froze solid.
He could clearly see the crew's expressions shifting.
From admiration—
To confusion—
To strange curiosity and gossip.
Johnny.
STOP.
I praised your tactics and rhythm control!
Not your finger flexibility!
And stop saying it like that while doing those weird motions!
You're making it sound like I have some strange fetish!
Inside Sami's mind, ten thousand Den Den Mushis were screaming.
But outwardly he maintained the calm dignity of a captain.
Johnny's fingers continued twisting energetically.
He was completely immersed in his own performance.
"Can you feel the life pulsing in these fingertips? This is—"
"Ahem!"
Sami coughed loudly.
He decided this conversation needed to end immediately.
"Alright! Break it up!"
"Training continues!"
"Everyone—extra conditioning set today!"
"Johnny—"
Sami pointed toward the seemingly endless coastline.
"Run around the island ten times. Right now."
"Burn off that excess energy!"
"Yes, Captain!"
Johnny showed zero complaints.
He even seemed honored by the extra attention.
With an excited shout, he dashed off like a monkey escaping a cage, kicking up a trail of dust across the grass.
Sami watched his energetic silhouette disappear into the distance.
He sighed helplessly.
"Well…"
"At least the training atmosphere is lively."
He glanced at the crew still snickering quietly.
A headache began forming at his temples.
Let's just hope this 'lively atmosphere' doesn't evolve into some strange ship culture…
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