Gunner Shiluba Boards

Silba Silba returned to his home base in a daze; the place was fully equipped, clearly no ordinary residence.

This was the home of his adoptive father, Silba Bonaparte, a renowned sniper on Gunslinger Island who had once narrowly lost to the world's greatest marksman of two generations prior. Childless and wifeless in his middle age, he had adopted Silba, an orphan with immense natural talent.

Silba Silba possessed formidable eyesight and perception, allowing him to land precise long-distance shots at a young age. He participated in numerous shooting competitions and garnered many honors, which only served to inflate his growing arrogance.

His adoptive father, Silba Bonaparte, urged him to calm his heart and not be misled by vanity. Though Silba agreed with his lips, he remained unconvinced in his heart, leading Bonaparte to eventually forbid him from competing, forcing him to focus on mastering various firearms and practicing by hunting wild beasts.

It wasn't until Silba Bonaparte passed away last year that Silba Silba returned to his old ways, entering various long-distance shooting competitions. He won every time and was hailed as the future world's greatest marksman, which only fueled his overconfidence.

He never imagined that in his first life-or-death duel today, he would lose to an obscure pirate sniper, losing years of reputation in a single moment.

"I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong. I truly am not qualified to bear that title yet!"

Silba wept bitterly, recalling his adoptive father's words: How could a sniper who has never experienced a life-or-death duel ever earn the title of the world's greatest? They only wanted you to compete to facilitate their gambling rings, while incidentally attracting caravans and pirates to spend their money.

"Roger Pirates, it's all your fault! You destroyed everything I had!!"

Silba's mind struggled to process the reality, shifting his hatred toward the Roger Pirates and blaming Petermoo for taking everything from him.

"If you've lost something, just take it back. What is the point of wallowing in self-pity here?"

Brook watched the peculiar thought process of this young genius. Did you not accept Petermoo's challenge openly and honestly? If you had won, your reputation would have soared; having lost, you can only become a stepping stone for others.

"Who are you!!"

Silba clutched the wound on his shoulder, still untreated, and became instantly vigilant at the sight of a stranger.

"My name is Brook, and I am also a pirate. Do you want to become stronger than Petermoo? Your talent is clearly superior to his, yet you still lost. It seems you need to head out to sea for some tempering. Come, join my ship, and I will show you the true powerhouses of this world."

With that, Brook entered his Underworld Ghost Qi state. Frost began to condense, and the Hell Underworld Qi was unleashed, causing Silba to feel waves of deathly aura, as if he had stepped into a terrifying hell.

"You... you are a pirate too? Then how do you compare to the Roger Pirates? Do you not have the strength to defeat them either?"

It seemed Silba was still trapped in his obsession with Petermoo, unable to see past his own narrow perspective.

"Petermoo is merely a small milestone for you. What is the point of keeping your eyes fixed on them!! Can you broaden your horizons? Enter the New World and witness the true powerhouses!"

Brook shouted, startling Shakky and Antonio behind him, while Silba fell into silence.

"If this is the extent of your ambition and capacity, you don't seem qualified to board my ship either. Then just stay here and bark like a coward!"

These words turned Silba's face as pale as a sheet. Having lost too much blood, he collapsed with a thud.

The scene left Brook and the others looking at each other in confusion; it seemed he had delayed the boy's medical treatment while delivering a double-barreled mental blow. Shakky and Antonio immediately moved to lift Silba and dress his wounds without a word.

Brook wandered around awkwardly, noticing the abundance of equipment, including design blueprints for improving firearm power, as well as many machined parts and firearm components.

Not long after, once Shakky had fed Silba some blood-replenishing potion, he finally stirred and woke up.

"Did you help me bandage this?"

"Obviously. Do you think you bandaged yourself after fainting?" Shakky rolled her eyes.

This left Silba silent once more, at a loss for words, and the atmosphere grew eerily quiet.

"Well? Are you interested in venturing out onto the sea with us? Hiding on this island won't make you the world's greatest marksman!"

Brook broke the silence, extending an invitation to Silba.

"I can't even beat the sniper of a single pirate crew right now. How could I ever have a chance to become the world's greatest marksman!!"

Silba's spirits remained low; it seemed this duel had nearly shattered his convictions and destroyed his self-confidence.

"Just because you can't beat him now doesn't mean you won't in the future. People must constantly grow. Tell me, what is your resolve!!"

Brook grabbed Silba by the collar, his cold, ghostly blue eyes staring into the dejected young man.

After a long silence...

"I understand, Captain Brook. Please take me to see the powerhouses of this world! I will become the world's greatest marksman!!!"

Silba shouted through tears. Remembering the contemptuous looks from the islanders and pirates after his defeat, his stubborn pride flared up—sooner or later, he would make them look at him with awe!

"Welcome, our future world's greatest marksman, Silba Silba."

Brook offered a faint smile, pulled Silba to his feet, and helped straighten his collar.

"Shakky, Antonio, help pack all these things up. We have plenty of room on the ship."

Brook intended to move Silba's entire armory onto the ship to facilitate his research.

"Isn't that a bit too fast? Captain Brook, my wound is still hurting!"

"You just need to direct us. Tell us what you need, and we'll pack it up. I'll carry it back myself."

As the strongest combatant, Brook was efficient and decisive. Before long, he was carrying a massive bundle back toward the ship.

Along the way, many islanders and pirates pointed and whispered, causing Silba, his shoulder wrapped in bandages, to turn ashen-faced.

"The strong do not care about the cries of the weak!"

Brook said this to Silba in a calm tone, which instantly cleared the young man's mind, planting a firm resolve to grow stronger deep within his heart.

"Captain Brook, you really brought back a sniper?"

Tom the fishman shipwright grinned broadly; he hadn't expected Brook to complete the recruitment mission so quickly.

"Silba Silba, our future world's greatest marksman. Shipwright Tom, the future world's greatest shipbuilder!"

Brook briefly introduced them to one another so they could get acquainted.