Pig Teammate

Despite Steel Cutlass swallowing all his pride and choosing to flee, his escape plan wasn't exactly going smoothly.

After all, he was still carrying a bleeding wound, his stamina was failing him—he was already spent.

And the beast chasing him had a bizarre acceleration trick: whenever the greatsword in his hand flashed, his running speed would suddenly increase by thirty percent.

The distance between them was visibly shrinking.

Steel Cutlass hadn't even made it a few dozen meters before Garen's blade was nearly crashing into his spine.

At this rate, he was definitely going to die!

Steel Cutlass could see that cruel future coming.

This self-proclaimed mighty pirate finally showed a weak side. Like the weaklings he used to look down on, he helplessly prayed for a miracle in his heart.

And just then, the lifeline Steel Cutlass had been desperately hoping for actually appeared.

"Stop!"

Steel Cutlass abruptly halted, then spun around and roared at Garen:

"Take one more step, and I'll blow his head off!"

Garen instinctively pulled back the greatsword about to land on the other's head, then quickly shifted his focus to the struggling Steel Cutlass:

There, in Steel Cutlass's thick, brawny arm, a young man had somehow appeared.

He was of average build, with a clean-cut face. Unlike the towering brutes flooding the pirate world, he was a normal-sized man by Garen's standards.

This young man wore a well-fitted suit, had neatly combed golden short hair, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He looked like a refined intellectual.

Right now, though, he seemed utterly pathetic. The three-meter-tall little giant, Steel Cutlass, had him dangling in midair, with a large flintlock pistol pressed firmly against his forehead.

"This..."

Garen asked, confused: "Who's this?"

This street had long since turned into a bloody battlefield. Even the Peacekeepers had fled. How was there still a bystander here?

"A hostage!"

Steel Cutlass answered bluntly: "A hostage I grabbed!"

"D-don't kill me."

The young man was struggling to breathe under the iron-like grip of Steel Cutlass's arm. He barely managed to raise his hand, revealing a camera in it, and gasped out:

"You can't kill me. I-I'm a journalist here to film the battle scene!"

"A journalist?"

Steel Cutlass was momentarily stunned, and even the ferocity on his face unconsciously softened:

On the seas, journalists were a mysterious and highly respected profession.

High-level journalists were fast. Every one of them had bizarre footwork, agile movements, superior speed, sharp eyesight, and photography skills that seemed almost supernatural.

Even pirates worth hundreds of millions couldn't escape the lenses of these war photographers. Before they knew it, the journalists would casually snap high-definition Avatars for bounty posters.

To get close-up shots of these ferocious pirates in the heat of battle—how could these journalists be ordinary?

And low-level journalists also got along well on the seas.

Though they weren't particularly strong themselves, they had the face to travel freely across all four seas.

Because small-time pirates like Steel Cutlass wanted to raise their status, they needed to raise their bounties. To raise their bounties, they needed to raise their fame.

And the traveling journalists who sailed the various sea routes were the best way for them to spread their martial might and expand their reputation.

If they happened to run into one, it was a once-in-a-lifetime blessing for small pirates.

They all looked forward to pulling off some shocking news stories under the journalist's lens.

So in all his years roaming the East Blue, Steel Cutlass had killed all kinds of people—but never a journalist.

"A journalist..."

Steel Cutlass muttered to himself, but in an instant, his expression turned savage again:

"Journalist or not, you're still dying!"

"If that Iron Can moves so much as a finger, I'll make your head bloom!"

He was about to die himself. What use was fame or a high bounty?

Thinking this, Steel Cutlass's arm tightened even more around the journalist.

"So..."

Garen saw the situation clearly, and his expression went flat:

"You just grabbed some random passerby to threaten me?"

"Uh..."

Steel Cutlass paused, realizing that his logic might not exactly hold up...

"Haha."

Garen took another slow step forward, locking eyes with Steel Cutlass in a menacing stare, his gaze brimming with mockery.

Steel Cutlass said nothing, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

"Don't move!"

But suddenly, another gruff voice rang out from behind Garen: "Your wife is in our hands!"

"What the hell?"

Garen's relaxed and carefree expression instantly froze on his face.

Two burly pirate lackeys, each pressing down on one of her shoulders, shoved the tightly restrained Nami forward without any courtesy.

They also held a gleaming steel blade against Nami's fair, smooth neck, its sharp edge nearly cutting into the faint blue veins visible beneath her skin.

Garen didn't speak, only casting a frustrated look at Nami, now under the enemy's control.

His gaze carried endless resentment: "You got yourself caught too?"

One useless teammate after another kept popping up, greatly increasing the game's difficulty and ruining the experience.

Garen was starting to struggle.

Nami lowered her head in slight embarrassment:

Her combat strength was never that great to begin with; she was no match for those burly, numerous pirates.

Earlier, in her rush to save that middle-aged Peacekeeper, Nami had recklessly charged into the enemy's midst, and breaking back out in a frontal assault proved far from easy.

The middle-aged man was indeed successfully rescued in the end, but she herself, exhausted and out of stamina, ended up captured as a prisoner.

"Hahaha!"

Steel Cutlass laughed out loud, his joy plain to see: "Well done!"

Steel Cutlass then tossed the reporter aside like trash and personally took the large blade threatening Nami's life from the lackey's hands.

A random reporter wasn't enough leverage, but adding a wife as a hostage—this was definitely a sure thing now!

So, having turned into a kidnapper, Steel Cutlass got cocky and made an outrageous demand, instantly upgrading his original "don't move" condition into something even harsher:

"You damned knight brat!"

"Want your wife to live?"

Steel Cutlass tossed his flintlock pistol in front of Garen, then arrogantly roared:

"Kill yourself in front of me, and I'll let her leave here alive!"

The scene fell silent. Steel Cutlass, the reporter, Nami, the lackeys.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on Garen, waiting for his final decision.

In the heavy silence, tangled thoughts brewed in each person's heart.

The reporter comrade had already given up all hope, being the weakest party in this situation.

The few remaining lackeys were tense, terrified that Garen might panic and just chop both the kidnapper and the hostage in two.

But Steel Cutlass was calm, quietly anticipating Garen's reaction.

As an absolute egoist, Steel Cutlass certainly didn't think Garen would be stupid enough to actually "kill himself to save his wife."

He made that demand just to set a high price and negotiate down.

If things went smoothly, he might not only escape alive but also use this foolish woman's life to extort a huge treasure from that knight.

Thinking this, an expectant smile crept onto Steel Cutlass's ugly face.

As for Nami...

Her feelings were complicated, hard to put into words:

First, Nami thought of her unfinished money-saving goal, the villagers suffering under Arlong's rule, and her beloved sister...

Then, the dream she had never yet touched.

After that, thinking it over carefully...

This world didn't seem to have much worth holding onto.

No friends, no freedom, no joy—only pain and betrayal.

By the end, Nami didn't even consider the possibility of surviving.

Because unrealistic hope only brought greater regret—

Those pirates had it wrong; she wasn't that knight's wife at all.

Nami didn't think that Iron Can would give up his life for her, a stranger who had nearly stolen his Greatsword.

This time, she was probably doomed.

And so, each lost in their own thoughts, they silently waited for Garen's choice.

After a long silence...

"What?"

The Steel Cutlass finally grew impatient: "Just say something!"

"Shut up!"

Garen shot back without the slightest courtesy, and his unbridled tone only made the already uncertain Steel Cutlass shrink back.

Fortunately, Garen's next reply was relatively mild:

"Let me think in peace for a while longer."

Let me think in peace for a while longer.

My Health Bar will be full again.