Who Dares Stop Me? I'll Shoot Them on the Spot!

Conrad had grown up in a society governed by the rule of law, and now he was a Marine enforcing it. He still had some reservations.

After all, he remembered the first time he'd stepped in to right a wrong. He'd grabbed the neck of a repeat bully at the orphanage and tried to kill him, only for a teacher to stop him and lock him in a small dark room for a whole week.

He'd tried a few more times to rob the rich and help the poor, but none of them had ended well for him.

Of course, he didn't care much whether they ended well. If something rubbed him the wrong way, he had to act. Otherwise, how could he live up to the "virtue" in his name, which stood for heavenly principles and morality?

Aokiji noticed the solemn look in Conrad's eyes. It held both respect for life and a desire to kill evildoers.

So he considered the question before answering slowly, "If you feel your life is in danger, you can shoot to kill. But if your enemy gives up, follow the arrest procedure."

"Understood." Conrad instinctively cupped one fist in the other, relieved. When he went out to uphold justice, he was always alert to danger.

Disarming someone barehanded was a deadly skill, like walking a tightrope.

For some reason, as Aokiji watched Conrad leave with his rifle slung over his back, his stride seemed rather carefree. Though he was still young, his steps were less than a third as long as Aokiji's.

The fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating the dripping passageway.

Conrad arrived at the mess hall. It was dinnertime, and the Marines aboard the warship had come ashore to eat.

He always had a big appetite, and Baby-5 was still growing, so he asked the woman in charge of the mess for a bucket of rice. Then he left the base and headed up to the balcony.

Kujaku piled her plate high with food and hurried after him.

At the corner of the balcony, Conrad finally took down the black-silk-wrapped spear and patted it. "Time to eat."

The spear spun apart into black hair and took the shape of Baby-5. She lay in Conrad's arms, then touched down and sat obediently with her legs crossed, lips pressed tight.

"You can talk now." Conrad picked up the bucket of rice, filled a plate for Baby-5, then took half the food from Kujaku's plate and put it on hers.

"Okay." Baby-5 held her plate. She felt a little bored, but she was doing all right.

Conrad then picked up the rice paddle and started eating straight from the bucket.

Kujaku suddenly reached out with her chopsticks and angrily snatched a chicken leg from Conrad's bucket. "Give Baby-5 back to me before you return to the dorm. I have a bad memory, so don't make me remind you."

Then she turned to Baby-5 and lectured her. "Girls have to keep their distance from men. You can't just listen to everything they say... You're sitting way too close right now! Don't lean on each other! Move apart! At least half a meter!"

Kujaku reached over and pried them apart, bending at the waist to shove them left and right. It was an educational task her grandmother had given her.

Among the rocks in the strait beside Branch 80, a small black-sailed boat drifted with the waves.

A pale, sinister-looking man with no eyebrows sat aboard. Despite his appearance, he wore a neat black police uniform.

The man lowered his binoculars. His pupils were tiny dots. Then he picked up the receiver of a Den Den Mushi wearing a suit and sunglasses and dialed.

The call connected amid a series of beeps, but the person on the other end said nothing.

"It's me, Laffitte. Good news. The one who came is a Headquarters Vice Admiral—Aokiji!"

"Hmm. Heh-heh~" The other person's laughter was low and hoarse, as if a beard were blocking his throat.

After a two-hour journey, the warship arrived at an island belonging to the Ilusia Kingdom, leaving Branch 80 behind.

Nothing happened during the day. The only thing they did was make a plan: the two hundred men were divided into five groups of forty.

The group leaders had been assigned based on their military records. After all, talent and strength didn't guarantee someone would make the right choice in a crisis, and the men lacked combat experience.

Conrad had no objections. He still needed to learn the ropes a few more times. People who had no one to teach them were used to watching and listening for themselves, then drawing nourishment from experience.

Their group leader was a Longarm Tribe man named Shuzo, dressed like a foreigner. He was thirty years old.

Now they had landed. The Marines' flags fluttered in the wind, but on the old European-style streets, passersby avoided them as if they were something filthy, hurrying away.

Shuzo hung up the Den Den Mushi and looked at Conrad. "Your suggestion makes a lot of sense. I reported it to the Vice Admiral, and he agreed."

"Then let's go." Conrad had suggested attending Cindry's stage play at nine that evening.

In the original story, Cindry would accidentally fall to her death during a performance. There was only one image and a brief line about it, so the specific time, place, and people involved couldn't be determined.

Conrad felt the muscles in his thighs warming up, urging him to move faster. He had always trusted his muscles' instincts. They were a part of his body forged through countless trials, no different from his brain.

The Marine flag was far too conspicuous. Along the way, every formally dressed man in a hat lowered its brim when he saw them, treating them with great caution.

Conrad couldn't help puffing out his chest. The standard Marine uniform was far too plain to show off his heroic bearing.

The closer they got to the city center, the more people crowded the streets. Many had their hands in their pockets and were clearly armed. They stopped avoiding the Marines and began watching them with ill intent.

When they reached the brightly lit, bustling Opera House, someone blocked their way. Night had fallen, and clouds drifted across the dark sky, hiding the moon.

Soldiers in old-fashioned robes and armor emerged with the Musketeer Squad, pushing through the crowd in formal attire and forming a line in front of them.

"Stop! His Majesty King Lucas is watching the performance!"

The Ilusia Kingdom was an Affiliated Nation and part of the World Government. It could take part in conferences. In a way, the Marines were patrol dogs tasked with protecting its safety.

So the King's Guard had greater authority than the Marines here.

Shuzo spoke loudly. "We're Marines from Headquarters, under Vice Admiral Aokiji! We're here to arrest a wanted criminal!"

"Whatever it is, you can wait until His Majesty has finished watching the performance!" The guard captain wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He stepped forward with his sword raised. His muscles bulged beneath his breastplate as he glared fiercely at Shuzo.

"There's a highly wanted criminal inside who could endanger His Majesty." Shuzo was nearly twice the guard captain's size, but they were in the other man's kingdom, and he lacked the authority to back up his words. All he could do was reason with him.

The guard captain snorted and slashed his sword across the ground, drawing a line of bright sparks. Then he raised a hand, and the Musketeer Squad behind him formed a line and loaded their guns.

"Listen up! Anyone who crosses the line gets shot! Kill them on the spot!"

Shuzo froze. He knew they would really fire. It was like the Marines going into the Longarm Tribe's own Affiliated Nation and killing someone illegally—the kingdom could do nothing about it.

The kingdoms had their own laws, and crimes were judged by their own courts. As long as they paid enough Heavenly Tribute, the Marines had to come to their aid when they asked.

Shuzo sighed and ordered the men to retreat. "When the performance is over and His Majesty comes out, we go in immediately!"

He put extra emphasis on the word "immediately," as if to assert the Marines' authority and discipline.

But the laughter of the elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies around them showed how cheap that authority was.

The Marines retreated, step by step. But one man never moved.

That man was, without a doubt, Conrad.

He took the rifle off his back: the Army-Breaking Overlord Spear.

With a yank, the black silk unfurled and its red tassel fluttered. He gripped the spear upright in his right hand, standing between the Opera House's King's Guard and audience on one side and the forty retreating Marines on the other.

"Marine enforcement! I'm going into this Opera House today, no matter what! Who dares stop me? I'll shoot them on the spot!"

He took one step across the line. Gunshots erupted.