The Fish-Man Who Could Turn Elemental

Water 7, bar district—

Moria swaggered into the liveliest-looking tavern with the pirate underlings he had "recruited."

"Boss! Bring out all your best liquor! I'm covering everything today!" Moria planted a foot on a chair and waved grandly.

"Whoa—! Long live the boss!"

"Drink! Let's drink ourselves silly!"

The pirates cheered as they flooded into the tavern, instantly taking up half the place.

The other patrons frowned at the sight.

But when they saw the gang's vicious appearances, along with that onion-headed man whose face looked like he had been dead for seven days, their expressions changed at once and they hurriedly gave up their seats.

Moria sat down at the largest table in the center, legs crossed, in a fine mood.

He had been stifled for the past half month.

Every day had been either training or fighting, and Alice would not even let him drink. The voyage had bored him to death.

Now that they had finally arrived somewhere as bustling as Water 7, how could he not enjoy himself?

The liquor was brought out quickly.

There were huge wooden barrels of ale, bottles of strong liquor, and fruit wines in every color, filling the table to the brim.

The pirates began their revelry, with clinking glasses, curses, and roaring laughter blending together.

Moria picked up a glass of strong liquor and was about to bring it to his lips—

His movement suddenly stopped.

The glass froze beside his lips as his eyes locked onto a corner of the tavern.

A fish-man sat there drinking alone.

The fish-man was huge, clearly over three meters tall, his body packed with muscle.

The most striking thing was his face, which bore obvious catfish traits: a broad, flat mouth stretching almost to his ears, revealing two rows of sharp fangs.

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