The Mafia liked beating up creatures that couldn't fight back, watching the weak tremble beneath their violent intimidation. It was the prevailing culture, and Capone Bege embodied it more than anyone.
It made them think they were strong, filling them with boundless masculine confidence. They kept committing violent acts to prove their strength.
But now they were panicking. They'd run into a gang more violent and powerful than they were, and their confidence was about to crumble like a glass bottle that looked sturdy on the outside but was empty within.
Conrad had broken into the bottle and found nothing inside.
After all, anyone with the grit to train hard for years wouldn't settle for being a Mafia thug who bullied the weak. Their very core was built around bullying the weak.
Those who bullied the weak would inevitably be bullied by the strong. Just like when Conrad had beaten up bullies as a child, he was now using the Heavenly Martial Killing Path to kill for the first time.
"Everybody spread out! Get away from him! Don't give him cover!" Gotti hefted his FT-G rocket launcher, unable to get a lock on the target.
Cut open! Tear apart! Flesh and black suits ripped with a sound like a cello being plucked.
The Opera House had become a slaughterhouse. Pale skeletons plopped into the audience seats.
Conrad was like a flapping bat, his jaws opening to bite and chew as his hair writhed like octopus tentacles.
His spider legs had become tentacles. His hair was saturated with blood that sucked at everything around it, stained so darkly that the color seemed impossible to wash away.
Clang!
Metal struck metal.
Sparks flared for an instant, bright as flint.
It was the clash between Shark-Tooth Blood Claws and Dice-Dice Blade Arms.
Daz Bonez suddenly thrust out from beneath a row of seats. He'd predicted the path Conrad would take as he charged toward his next target, and now the quick, precise, ruthless assassin's strike was aimed straight at a vital spot.
It was a hair's breadth from a decisive blow. Conrad had already kicked out both legs, aiming to slice through Daz's waist as he lunged forward. He was about to land the hit.
But Conrad suddenly reversed his muscles' movement and pulled his legs back, curling into a ball as he swung both claws to shield himself.
His lightweight body was merely sent flying.
He landed right in the middle of a group of fleeing gang members. One claw pierced one chest, the other pierced another, and both tore out still-beating hearts.
One heart was impaled and shriveled in an instant, as if sucked dry through a straw. The other was crushed, its blood spraying into his writhing, sticky hair.
Daz's assassination attempt had failed. This guy was far more perceptive than he'd expected. He suspected Observation Haki was to blame. Now that there was nowhere left to hide, he would go all out.
"You go after the Marines. I'll deal with him."
The blades on his armor suddenly sprang out, slicing it to pieces and revealing his muscular chest, tattooed with a black "One."
He'd gotten that tattoo after the one and only failure of his career as an assassin, to keep the shame etched into his memory. He'd never failed again.
Daz charged at Conrad's cocoon of blood. His opponent would have to remain still for a few seconds. Daz's forearms transformed into spiraling blades that spun at high speed like chainsaws. This was the move he was proudest of!
Spiral Draw Slash! He silently recited the name of the move.
This time, the cocoon opened more slowly than before.
When it bloomed, spilling hair down to the floor, Conrad's exposed figure looked noticeably stronger than before. His sleeves were stretched tight and had become too short.
He'd grown taller, reaching a full one hundred and seventy centimeters!
Blood-red eyes gleamed against his dark face as he stared at Daz's spiraling blades. His long hair surged upward, dozens of strands weaving and intertwining.
Daz's entire body was steel, and he feared nothing. Slash, slash, slash! Hair spun through the air, sliced to pieces and drifting down like a shower of blood.
The fated star of Ten Thousand Mile Slaughter in the night sky seemed to blink, its vitality growing more and more lifelike.
"Here to cut my hair? How nice of you." Conrad's voice sounded as if it were stuck in blood.
A craving seeped through his veins, tingling and numb, making him rub his bones and twist his limbs without meaning to.
A craving—an absurdly powerful craving, like nicotine to a smoker or crystal meth to an addict. The Heavenly Martial Killing Path urged him to seek something out and satisfy it.
He would kill everyone he saw, pushing his threshold higher and higher. Then, when his hunger grew too great to satisfy, he would turn on those closest to him.
At last, when there was no one left in the world to slaughter, he would reverse his grip on the blade and plunge it into his own heart, using his life to attain the ultimate, supreme pleasure.
The process was exhilarating. Conrad felt as if he'd come alive, every cell in his body activated to the limit. With just a thought, he'd mastered Life Return.
A vicious smile spread across his face. Then, through his blood-soaked Shark Claws, he thrust out with Shigan, one of the Six Powers.
Baby 5's Weapon-Weapon Fruit was superior to the Dice-Dice Fruit, but age and training time still made all the difference. It could never withstand a clean cut.
Even so, Conrad charged in, because he had absolute confidence that the spiraling blades couldn't touch his hands.
Amid the tangle of bloody strands, he pounced right into the path of Daz's swinging arm.
When Daz raised his arm and slashed toward Conrad's chest, Conrad's heart beat wildly. He rose onto his toes and turned his body sideways, letting the blade pass beneath him.
At the same time, two surges of Haki blasted from his feet with Geppo, propelling him forward.
Shigan plunged into the muscle at Daz's collarbone with a deafening metallic clang.
Conrad had actually been aiming for his neck, but Daz reacted quickly and turned his head aside.
The Shark Claw's blood grooves drew no blood, because Daz's collarbone had turned to steel. But ten dents marred the metal.
Daz was wounded. His steel body would only spill blood once it could no longer withstand being broken. That would be the moment he died.
An assassin's instincts made him follow up with a vertical slash, intent on tearing Conrad's face to shreds from the top down. But the airflow stirred up by his spinning blade—
—was a gale to Conrad's Kami-e, making him sway aside, twist away, and hunch low to the ground.
"Fuck, why can't I pierce this iron turtle? Am I really this useless? Gah! Impossible! It can't be!"
Daz already had dark skin and a stern expression that made him look as if he were scowling. He felt the danger, but he couldn't understand it. He hadn't hurt his opponent, yet his opponent had hurt him. So why was the other man still so furious?
Conrad's gaze was confused, then yearning. At last, it locked onto Daz's spiraling blades. He looked like a child who'd discovered a new toy. He raised both claws, Haki surging like blood-red flames, and began to rotate them slowly.
Daz understood what he was trying to do. He was copying the move Daz was so proud of. Even with his own talent, Daz had spent five years studying it, from the age of fourteen to nineteen, before creating the technique.
It was an insult to him. Even with his usual coldness, he couldn't help challenging Conrad.
"You're copying my Spiral Draw Slash? You don't have my Devil Fruit power. Even if you did, how could you learn it in an instant? Your arrogance has reached the point of stupidity!"
But Conrad only smiled, staring at his own claws. He could feel the opening: Haki was rotating, his activated cells turning and rubbing against one another.
He didn't wait. Waiting was too slow. Fixing his blood-red eyes on Daz, he charged forward, building strength in his feet before leaping at him.
"How could a sparrow understand the vastness of a great roc?"
Daz suddenly felt mocked. His temper flared, and he abandoned an assassin's silence, roaring, "You ready to die? That suits me just fine! Come on!"
He leaped with both arms raised, his chainsaw blades spinning until they sparked.
Before you continue