Conrad was a man with a strong sense of morality, but sometimes his sense of justice got the better of him, and he went too far, becoming extreme.
That was why he chose to cultivate the Heart-Freezing Art as his first core technique.
At the time, he only remembered the first four lines: "Let the heart be clear as ice, and fear not the sky's collapse. Let all changes pass, while the mind remains steadfast; the spirit serene, the breath calm."
Though he didn't understand their meaning and had only a fragment, whenever he felt troubled, he would practice them. They always helped calm his mind and steady his breathing.
It happened when he was nine. A vicious bully had just arrived at their orphanage. He immediately tried to establish his dominance by bullying Conrad's friends.
How could Conrad stand for that? He rushed in to help, knocking out three of the bully's teeth.
Three days in solitary confinement.
But the bully was a bully through and through. When Conrad came out, he discovered that during those three days the bully had beaten up all his friends, leaving them too scared to tell the teachers.
Furious, Conrad said nothing. He grabbed his trusty weapon—a fine dog-beating stick he'd found by the river—and cracked the bully over the head.
Five days in solitary confinement.
When Conrad came out this time, he found that the bully had not only gotten worse, but had done something he couldn't accept: tearing up the comic book the bookstore owner had given him.
He'd also found somewhere to throw away Conrad's fine dog-beating stick.
The bully said Conrad relied on his weapon and challenged him to a fair fight.
To be honest, Conrad used a weapon to protect the bully, because when he punched people... it felt good.
Every time his fist hit someone's face, the impact of blood and flesh sent a thrill through him, and it was hard to make himself stop.
It wasn't until Conrad later learned the Imperial Classic of World Governance that he realized it was because of his birth star—the Ten Thousand Mile Slaughter.
So during that fight, he lost control. He grabbed the incorrigible bully by the throat and went for the kill, determined to rid his friends of him.
Even though those friends didn't really like him either, he didn't care. He had his own rhythm.
By the time his thoughts cleared, he'd already beaten three female teachers to tears. Two male teachers had pinned his arms and legs, holding him down on the grass.
Nearby, the orphanage doctor was performing CPR on the bully.
A week in solitary confinement.
But this time, he'd gone too far.
Even locked in the little black room, Conrad's blood still raced and his heart still pounded. That wild turmoil inside him wouldn't subside, not even when he recited the Heart-Freezing Art.
He recited it faster and faster, more and more chaotically. Then, as if possessed, he began to recite it backward.
"Sta... sta... the sky's... collapse!"
His breath flowed in reverse; he could only exhale, not inhale.
Conrad had gone into qi deviation.
Before long, he was suffocating from a lack of oxygen. His heartbeat slowed sharply, and without enough blood being pumped, it stagnated in his brain.
He knew he would die if this continued. He had to get his blood flowing and breathe normally to replenish his oxygen.
But he couldn't. All he could do was gasp.
Then he saw the mouse squeaking in the little black room. A thought suddenly came to him: practice the "Heavenly Martial Killing Path."
He'd known this mouse for a long time. At first, it hadn't dared come near him. Lately, though, it had even run over begging for food while he ate. He'd been generous, sharing with it every time.
But this time, the mouse was greeted by a slap—a cruel slap.
There were no words for that blurred instant when its blood sprayed, just as there were no words for the bliss Conrad felt, as if he'd nearly ascended to heaven.
His whole body felt clear and unblocked.
His breath flowed with perfect ease. He recited the Heart-Freezing Art backward and practiced it in reverse.
After leaving the little black room, he broke into the infirmary that very night, dragged the bully to the riverbank, and beat him senseless. This time, the other boy didn't even dare tell the orderlies, hiding his injuries as best he could.
When he'd beaten the bully until he felt nothing, his threshold pushed to the limit, and he wanted to turn on the friends beside him—
He abruptly realized what he was doing and stopped. He voluntarily requested the little black room, entering seclusion to contemplate the "Infinite Vibration Zen" he now practiced best. He sealed part of the source of his emotions away in his mind.
At that moment.
Right then.
Baby-5 had never seen Conrad like this before. He was gripping her hand so tightly and staring at her as if he were about to eat her.
"Y-are you okay?" she asked anxiously.
"I've never been better!" Conrad looked at the Mafiosi below, small as ants. He grinned, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears. "I've never felt this good!"
The moon was dark and dim. In the starry sky, the birth star besieged on all sides blazed with crimson light, seeming to snuff out the moon.
In the front row, a bald bodyguard took off his hat, pulled a red rocket launcher marked FT-G from the box seat, and attached it to the iron chain on his right arm.
Conrad recognized him. He was a killer from the Bege Fire Tank Pirates. He hadn't recognized him before because there was nothing distinctive about his bearded face.
"Good! Good! Good!" In an instant, he understood that Bege was behind this. The man was an undercover agent.
He'd hated sneaky, underhanded people all his life.
"Baby-5!"
"Here." Baby-5 nodded with a light laugh. "You want me to—"
"Do whatever the hell you want! Hahaha! Let's go!"
Conrad took a step forward, holding Baby-5 as he stepped into the spotlight on the stage.
Crimson Haki burst down from his head like serpents, dividing his hair into more than a dozen strands that writhed like dancing flames.
Boom!
Geppo.
A crimson blur shot into the air.
He was exposed to a sea of gun muzzles aimed at him from the packed Mafia-filled audience.
Baby-5 crossed through the alternating light and shadow, one arm around Conrad's neck. Gazing at his ecstatic face, she wondered what weapon she should transform into.
If someone asked what the most important memories of her life were, she'd once thought it was the first time they met on the snowy island. The second time, when she jumped into the sea, she'd thought it was that moment. Later, she realized it was every moment they spent together. The future would always be wonderful; she couldn't choose one moment over another.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Pistols and flintlocks fired in unison.
The crimson blur blasted through the air, charging horizontally before abruptly turning ninety degrees and plunging straight into the audience.
Like a bat beating its wings, Conrad clamped both hands onto the back of a large man in black. His ten fingers, like iron hooks, dug into the muscles of the man's back, catching in the gaps between his shoulder blades.
Baby-5 looked at Conrad's fingers and decided that wouldn't do. It would hurt his nails and might even break his bones. He needed a pair of gloves.
Tony and the king, up on the Opera House's roof, couldn't see clearly. They shouted frantically, "Hurry and kill him! Kill—"
Shhk!
Ten savage claws, lined with shark-tooth-shaped grooves and slick with blood, pierced through the man's chest.
Blood flowed along the grooves, drawn by Conrad's breath to his skin, where his pores sucked it in.
If his Haki had once been like steam, a soaring ambition that sought to break through the sky, now it was a great vortex, a furious force that could sweep across the sea.
"Yeah! Heavenly Martial Killing Path—Life-Severing Path!"
The birth star that had been suppressed for ten years opened its eyes, glittered, and rejoiced, celebrating its long-awaited release.
When the shark-toothed claws ripped the wall of flesh that was the burly man in half, not a drop of blood splattered. What fell to the ground was nothing but shriveled flesh, drooping from the bones.
Conrad's black hair surged longer. His once-neat short hair spilled down his head, growing visibly before their eyes like a beast's mane.
His arms hung before his slightly hunched body, each hand dangling a bloodthirsty Shark Claw larger than his own head.
"Yee-hoo~!"
He threw back his head and howled. The Haki he'd replenished filled his eyes, and blood vessels spread across his pupils. The clear black eyes he'd once had were gone without a trace.
"Switch to melee weapons! Don't hit our own men! Hurry—"
The Mafia squad leader shouted, but his cry abruptly cut off. A spiderlike shadow suddenly dropped in front of him. Beneath its blood-red eyes was a grin of hooked white teeth.
Black hair curled toward him like spider legs, wrapping him up like a cocoon.
He didn't even get to finish telling them to switch to melee weapons. His face twisted as he screamed, frantically pulling the trigger of his revolver and shooting at Conrad.
But Baby-5's Shark Claw was incredibly sturdy. The bullets bounced off it with ease, without even throwing off a spark.
The cocoon wrapped around him for a few seconds, then writhed open.
Under Laffitte's gaze, as even his smile vanished, a heap of bones tumbled out.
Watching the crimson afterimage as Conrad used Soru again, Laffitte's keen eyes told him—
This guy seemed to have... grown a centimeter taller?
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