Slaughter

Jelly alone was enough. Vines spread and grew from beneath his feet. Those people had no idea what was happening before they were pinned in place. What awaited them were vines slipping into their mouths and ultimately churning up their internal organs.

They died in agony without a single visible wound. So as not to ruin everyone's appetite, Jelly's methods of killing had become somewhat artistic.

"To be able to control them to this extent, your Devil Fruit ability has gotten stronger again." Rogge watched the bounty hunters die one after another in terror. Most could not even cry out; the vines went straight into their mouths, leaving them no chance to speak.

"I've been training them all along. It's a shame I still can't control everything. I can only get familiar with it bit by bit." Jelly stretched out his hand. One finger turned into a vine and began to grow, eventually curling around a wineglass, lifting it up and bringing it to his lips.

More than thirty bounty hunters had died, and the tavern owner stared in shock.

"Hey, boss, aren't you going to get our food?" Rogge shouted at the owner impatiently.

"R-right away." The owner had seen his share of the world. He had even been a bounty hunter himself, but he had never seen such a bizarre method of killing.

It was far too terrifying. More than thirty people had died silently like that, without even a chance to resist.

The entire tavern was silent. The people outside waiting to watch the show were still waiting.

Barrel Island had a rule. Because there were too many bounty hunters here, they had formed teams to divide up resources. Any pirates arriving on the island would remain for three days to store a record of the next island.

Those who came generally never made it back out, unless they were truly strong. To divide up the bounties, they usually went by territory. Whoever's territory the prey entered, that prey belonged to them.

The tavern Rogge had entered was the territory of one bounty hunter team. Only after that team had failed could others step in.

But the people waiting outside were puzzled. Why was there no movement at all? Normally, when someone went in, it would not take long before some commotion broke out.

Yet the tavern was indeed unusually quiet. Not a sound came from within.

Rogge and the others had long since grown accustomed to corpses. They could sit on dead bodies and eat boxed meals; a scene like this did not affect them in the slightest.

Once the owner brought out the food and wine, Ares sniffed the air and picked up a dish.

"Wait." Ares grabbed Rogge's hand just as Rogge reached for a piece of meat.

"What?" Rogge froze and looked at Ares in confusion.

Ares tore off a piece of the meat, tossed it into his mouth, chewed twice, then spat it out.

"There's a sleeping drug in it," Ares said.

"A sleeping drug..." Rogge stopped, leaned closer, and sniffed it. "There's no smell. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

"I can't be wrong. My body has long been immune to all poisons, and sleeping drugs are no exception. They won't affect me, but my tongue is a little numb now. It should definitely be a sleeping drug." Ares looked at the tavern owner.

By then, the tavern owner was drenched in sweat and trembling all over.

"Boss, that's rather dishonest of you. You even drugged the food." Knowing they could not eat this meal, Rogge was somewhat displeased. He stood and walked toward the tavern owner.

"Y-you, don't come any closer." The owner pulled out a pistol from behind his back and aimed it at Rogge.

"Don't play with that." Rogge reached out, grabbed the pistol in his hand, and squeezed hard. The gun shattered instantly.

The owner cried out in horror, "How is that possible?"

"Ha!"

Boom!

The owner flew out of the tavern and smashed headfirst into the tavern across the street. Half his body hung outside, blood dripping down the wooden wall.

Rogge strode out of the tavern. That meal was ruined, and because of the commotion, the street was now packed with people.

Crack, crack, crack! Rogge flexed his fingers, and the joints between them popped.

Ares poked his head out from inside the tavern, glanced over, and asked Ham and Jelly, "Aren't we helping?"

"Didn't he just say so? Leave it to him alone. He's craving a fight right now. Ordinary battles can't give him any pressure. He needs more combat experience. Don't worry about him; he won't die. Let's go to the cellar and take the food. Looks like we won't need to pay after all." Ham smiled.

"Move all the wine too," Jelly said with a grin.

"O-okay." Ares did not know what else to say.

Outside, Rogge had already begun fighting the bounty hunters. Alone against hundreds of them, Rogge defeated them one after another without using his ability.

His mind was intensely focused. Fists, kicks, headbutts, elbows, knees—his entire body was a weapon. Rogge was not used to weapons; his fists and his body were his weapons.

But two fists could not beat four hands. There were simply too many bounty hunters, and they had completely lost themselves in the fight. Rogge took a few hits as well. Still, it had to be said that improving through battle was the fastest shortcut, even better than Rogge's training.

"Not enough."

"Not enough."

Rogge swung his fists as he shouted. He felt he was still far too lacking. His fighting techniques were too poor and fell short of his own standards. Strength like this was enough to scrape by in the first half of the Grand Line, but entering the New World would be nothing but suicide.

Rogge was dissatisfied with his current state. He needed to become stronger. One phrase was always on his lips: strength above all. Without strength, he was nothing but an ant. He needed to become stronger, and he needed to become stronger faster.

Fight. Keep fighting. Force out greater strength and more potential, compressing himself without end.

"Aah!"

Rogge sent a bounty hunter flying with a savage punch. His body was covered in blood—some of it his own, some of it his enemies'. Yet he had not used his ability even once, fighting with nothing but his own strength.

"Come on!"

Rogge raised his head and looked at the bounty hunters before him. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had already fallen into a crazed state.

"Come on! Keep coming!" Rogge roared.

But seeing Rogge like this, the bounty hunters did not continue forward. Instead, they instinctively retreated. Rogge's appearance had frightened them.

Hundreds of bounty hunters already lay sprawled across the ground. Yet there were still other bounty hunters rushing over from elsewhere on the island, and when they saw this scene, they too did not dare press forward.

"Not enough. This little pressure is nowhere near enough." Rogge lowered his head and shouted.

"Madman. He's a madman," one bounty hunter said as he backed away.

Rumble!

Suddenly, the entire street began to shake as though an earthquake had struck, with Rogge at the center of the tremors.

"Then you're no longer of any value. Die." Rogge raised his head and stared at the people still alive.