Mayotte Town.
Located on the eastern coastline of the Prodence Kingdom, about two to three days’ journey from the Marine base, it’s a chaotic town with a permanent population of around 300,000.
Many pirate crews land in the Prodence Kingdom through this town.
So, the public security is very poor.
Brawls and fights frequently break out on the streets.
There have been numerous instances of kidnapping, robbery, and drug abuse, especially in the past two years, due to internal strife within the Providence Kingdom, causing the towns under its control to spiral into further chaos.
Despite the danger, the town holds many opportunities.
Running a tavern, inn, or other businesses here can be profitable if you have strong backing or pay enough protection money.
After all, there are many outsiders every year.
Having mastered Shigan, Hermes was here to gain combat experience and earn hard cash. Previously, he had been poor, so he needed to be frugal, and Mayotte Town fit his goals perfectly.
It’s a place crawling with lowlifes where you could trip over a scoundrel with your eyes closed.
“Hahaha.”
“Fill it up.”
“Barkeep, another round of rum.”
“Where’s the pizza I ordered?”
“Where’s my drink? Believe me, I’ll tear down your tavern.”
Walking down the bustling streets, people with long knives or pistols at their waists were everywhere. Some were pirates, some were bandits, and the streets were lined with various shops and street vendors.
Hermes was dressed simply: a white shirt, black trousers, flip-flops, and slightly messy hair. He found a nearby tavern.
Upon entering, the smell of alcohol and unpleasant sweat hit Hermes, almost making him stop in his tracks. The various shouts and curses buzzed around like flies.
The environment was terrible.
No one paid attention to Hermes because the waitstaff was already busy, constantly threatened by patrons to serve faster or risk the tavern being burned down.
Rough, dirty, and completely lacking the decorum and grace of gentlemen.
Few people glanced at Hermes, and upon seeing a youngster, they turned back to their eating, drinking, or drinking games.
He was lucky.
There was still an empty table.
Holding his breath, Hermes made his way through the crowd. Just halfway there, he noticed a large, hairy foot sticking out to trip him, intending to embarrass him.
Just for fun.
“Hahaha, the kid noticed.”
“Horace, you were too slow.”
“I wanted to see him faceplant.”
The tablemates laughed heartily.
Horace, being teased by his companions, wasn’t angry. He laughed, downed a liquor bowl, retracted his leg, and resumed bragging.
Normally.
An eighteen or nineteen-year-old would quickly leave in such an environment, especially when teased. Facing these ferocious individuals in the tavern, not crying out of fear, would be an achievement.
Hermes, with his small frame, didn’t fit in here.
His thigh was no thicker than their arms.
The difference was too great.
“Hey, kid, why are you still here?”
Reminded by his companions, Horace looked back and saw Hermes standing there, expressionless and somewhat defiant.
This scene attracted much attention, but most people watched with amused, drunken eyes.
Hermes was cold and aloof.
In his experience, actions spoke louder than words.
If something couldn’t be solved with force, then use more force.
The fate of the underling who dared to provoke the future bravest man was sealed.
In a flash, Hermes struck, his strong fingers gouging out Horace’s eyes and penetrating his skull before anyone could react. Blood and screams filled the air.
The noisy tavern fell silent.
Shing!!!
Pulling out his right hand, flinging off some brain matter and flesh, Hermes savored the scent of blood.
“I want to know this guy’s bounty.”
The large body fell to the ground, blood quickly soaking the floor. Hermes looked around, only concerned with how much this guy’s bounty was.
“Damn.”
“Horace.”
“Kid, you’re dead.”
The pirates at the same table jumped up, drawing their swords or pistols, and started hacking and shooting at Hermes.
No one expected Hermes to strike so suddenly.
He looked polite but turned violent without warning.
A silent dog that bites hard.
Bang!!!
A bullet whizzed past his ear, the accompanying wind making Hermes tense up. Fortunately, he dodged in time, but before he could make his next move, a cold, glinting, long knife was already slicing towards his neck.
This was the reality of the pirate world.
One word, and they fight.
Fate, riches by heaven determines life and death.
Dodging the long knife, Hermes didn’t back away. Instead, he closed in on the nearest pirate, his right hand stabbing like lightning.
After almost two years of struggling in this world.
Hermes had long since changed.
“Ah!!!”
A heart-wrenching scream erupted as Hermes’ strike found its mark, the closest pirate clutching his side, falling to the ground in terror as death’s shadow loomed over him.
Bang, bang, bang!!!
“Die!”
Another pirate shot at Hermes wildly, the only real threat, forcing him to roll to the side and use a table as a shield.
At the same time, two pirates approached, one wielding an axe and the other a long knife, and attacked Hermes relentlessly.
The entire tavern had cleared a central space, with no one stepping into the fray but everyone cheering, some even betting on whether Hermes or the pirates would survive.
“Chop his leg!”
“Idiots, can’t you catch him?”
“This way, this way.”
The spectators’ mockery only made the furious pirates more agitated.
So many of them couldn’t handle one kid.
In a moment of inattention, another scream filled the air.
Hermes’ fingers were the sharpest weapon, each strike leaving a bloody hole, often hitting vital spots.
Like the eyes, throat, and kidneys—his methods were ruthless.
He didn’t use his Mini-Mini Fruit power because he enjoyed the thrill, feeling the rush of adrenaline as death loomed close.
It was exhilarating.
His fingers not only caused spasms but could kill unseen.
They had many uses.
And this kind of environment was perfect for quick improvement.
“Die! Die!”
“Damn it, slippery eel.”
“He ran this way. Can’t you handle one kid?”
As the battle intensified, the pirates became more frenzied.
But for the few remaining pirates, it was different. Unknowingly, they were down to three, the rest lying in pools of blood or on the brink of death.
Hermes was also injured, with cuts on his arms, back, and thighs, his shirt soaked in blood, looking severe.
But keen observers could see they were superficial wounds, not hitting any major arteries or bones.
Dancing on the knife’s edge couldn’t be without some cost.
“That kid seems to be using Marine Rokushiki.”
“With such strong finger techniques, it does resemble Shigan from Rokushiki.”
“Could this kid be a Marine?”
In the crowd.
Some pirates were doubtful but not sure.
Their experience was limited.
Bang!!!
“Ah.”
The gunfire stopped abruptly. The group’s gunman clutched his bleeding throat and fell, struggling a few times before dying in discontent.
Hermes shook the blood from his fingers, panting, eyes like daggers staring at the last two pirates.
They faced off.
The onlookers quieted, knowing the showdown was imminent.
“Kill!”
The two pirates face twisted, and launched their attack.
Their fierce stance showed they were ready for a life-or-death struggle.
They had underestimated this kid, who had strong killing power and was as slippery as an eel, aiming straight for vital spots, as ruthless as them.
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