Slaughter

Jelly alone was enough. Vines spread and grew from beneath his feet. Before those people even knew what was happening, they had been pinned in place. Then vines slid into their mouths and tore apart their internal organs.

One after another, they died in agony without any visible wounds. So as not to ruin the mood for eating, Jelly's methods of killing had become somewhat artistic.

"You can control them to that extent? Your Devil Fruit ability has grown stronger again." Rogge watched the bounty hunters die in terror. Most could not even cry out; the vines entered their mouths directly, leaving them no chance to speak.

"I've been training them all this time. Unfortunately, I still can't control everything. I can only get familiar with it bit by bit." Jelly stretched out his hand, and one finger turned into a vine and began to grow. It eventually curled around a wineglass, lifted it, and brought it to his lips.

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

"Hey, Boss, aren't you going to get us some food?" Rogge shouted impatiently at the owner.

"Y-Yes, right away." The owner had seen plenty in his life; he had even been a bounty hunter himself. But he had never seen such a bizarre method of killing.

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

The entire tavern was silent, while the people outside waiting to watch the show continued to wait.

Barrel Island had rules. Because there were so many bounty hunters here, they formed teams to divide up resources. Any pirates who came to the island would stay for three days to store the record for the next island.

Those who came usually never made it out again, unless they were truly powerful. To divide up the bounties, territory was usually what mattered. Whoever's territory the prey entered, that prey belonged to them.

The tavern Rogge had entered belonged to a bounty hunter team's territory. Only after that team failed could anyone else make a move.

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

But the tavern was indeed eerily quiet. Not a sound came from within.

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

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

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

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

Ares tore off a piece of 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 and leaned closer to smell it. "There's no scent. 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 feels a little numb right now. It should definitely be a sleeping drug." Ares looked at the tavern owner.

The tavern owner was drenched in sweat, trembling from head to toe.

"Boss, that's a bit underhanded. You even drugged the food." Knowing they could not eat this meal, Rogge was somewhat unhappy. 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 crushed it with a squeeze.

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

"Sigh!"

Bang!

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

Rogge strode out of the tavern. This meal was ruined, and the commotion had already filled the street with people.

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

Ares poked his head out from the tavern and asked Ham and Jelly, "Aren't we going to make a move?"

"Didn't he just say so? Leave it to him alone. He's craving a fight right now. Ordinary battles can't put enough pressure on him; 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 have to pay after all." Ham smiled.

"Empty out all the liquor too," Jelly said with a smile.

"Okay, okay." Ares did not know what else to say.

Outside, Rogge had already begun fighting the bounty hunters. Facing several hundred bounty hunters alone, Rogge defeated them one by one 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 body were his weapons.

But two fists could not fend off four hands. There were too many bounty hunters, all fighting with bloodshot eyes. Rogge took several hits as well, but he had to admit that improving through battle was the fastest shortcut, far better than training alone.

"Not enough."

"Not enough."

Rogge swung his fists as he shouted. He felt he was still far too lacking, that his combat skills were too poor to meet his own standards. This level of strength might be enough to muddle through the first half of the Grand Line, but entering the New World with it would be nothing but suicide.

Rogge was dissatisfied with his current state. He needed to become stronger. He often said it himself: strength came first. Without strength, he was nothing more than an ant. He needed to grow stronger—faster.

Battle. He had to keep fighting, draw out greater power and more potential, and keep pushing himself to the limit.

"Ah!"

Rogge sent a bounty hunter flying with a brutal punch. His entire body was covered in blood—some of it his own, some of it his enemies'. Yet he had not used his ability even once, relying solely on his own strength to fight.

"Come on!"

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

"Come on! Keep coming!" Rogge roared.

But seeing Rogge like this, the bounty hunters did not dare press forward. Instead, they instinctively retreated. His appearance had frightened them.

Several hundred bounty hunters already lay sprawled across the ground. Other bounty hunters from around the island had rushed over after hearing the news, but seeing this scene, they too did not dare step forward.

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

"Madman. He's a Madman." A bounty hunter backed away.

Rumble!

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

"Then you have no value left. Die." Rogge raised his head and stared at those still alive.