Accepting the Commission

The night wind carried the salty, fishy scent of the sea.

As a transmigrator, Rain had been in this world for exactly three years. Though he had long grown accustomed to its law of the jungle, the soul of civilized society deep within him still felt a visceral revulsion toward the pirates' bottomless brutality.

"A bunch of scum wearing 'freedom' as a disguise..." Rain weighed the heavy sack in his hand and headed toward the Marine branch in town.

In the fervor known as the Great Pirate Era, countless people had been incited by Pirate King Roger's final words before his execution, rushing out to sea in search of the so-called One Piece. But in Rain's eyes, that so-called freedom meant nothing but plunder, flames, slaughter, and endless nightmares for ninety-nine percent of the common folk across the Four Blues.

Rain had never considered himself a hero who upheld justice, nor could he be bothered to shout those lofty slogans. He was merely a bounty hunter—one who happened to possess Logia powers and found those "scum of the sea" extremely unpleasant to look at.

Killing evil in exchange for Beli was only natural.

Rum Town's Marine branch stood atop the highest hill in town. Its towering stone walls and searchlights appeared especially forbidding in the rainy night. Compared with the chaotic slums and pleasure-seeking taverns below, this place seemed like another world entirely.

When Rain's distinctive black coat appeared within the halo of light at the branch entrance, the two Marine guards instinctively tightened their grips on their flintlocks, their Adam's apples bobbing as they swallowed.

"St... stop! This is a restricted Marine facility!" a young Marine recruit stammered, his gun trembling slightly from nerves.

"Relax, Private. I'm not here to cause trouble."

Rain stopped and slowly pulled out a wanted poster stained with several drops of blood from inside his coat. Together with the sack still seeping dark red blood, he tossed them at the feet of the two Marines.

Thud.

The knot on the sack came loose, and a head with an ugly knife scar and wide-open dead eyes rolled out, stopping directly in front of the young recruit's boots.

"That's... Galt the 'Bloodhand'?" The other, older soldier recognized the face in the searchlight's glow and sucked in a sharp breath. Then he looked at the young man in black with reverence. "You're... Rain 'Grayrock'?"

"Go inform Colonel Moore," Rain said, ignoring the veteran's shock. "Tell him I'm here to collect."

Ten minutes later, Rain sat on a genuine leather sofa in the office of the Marine branch commander.

The office reeked of cheap cigar smoke. Behind the desk, Colonel Moore, Rum Town's highest-ranking Marine officer, frowned as he covered his nose with a white handkerchief and stared at the head on the floor, which had just been examined by the coroner.

Moore was an old-school Marine in his fifties, with graying hair. Having spent half his life in the hellscape of the West Blue, where gangs and pirates ran rampant, his face was etched with exhaustion and the weathering of reality.

"Fifteen million Beli. Not a single Beli short. It's all here."

Moore waved a hand, signaling his adjutant to place a heavy cash case on the coffee table before Rain. Watching Rain open it without ceremony and count the bills, he could not help rubbing his temples.

"Rain, can't you handle things a little more cleanly? This is already the fourth head you've brought in this month. The townspeople are more scared of you than they are of pirates now!"

"Colonel, I'm only responsible for catching people—or killing them. As for how I kill them, the wanted posters don't set any rules." Rain casually flipped through the stacks of Beli. Once he confirmed the amount, he closed the case. "Besides, a dead pirate is a good pirate. I thought we agreed on that."

Moore sighed, waved the adjutant out, and closed the office door.

Only the two of them remained. Moore picked up the lighter on his desk, relit the cigar that was about to go out, and took a deep drag.

"I won't deny your efficiency, Rain. The Marines in the West Blue are severely understaffed, and all the resources from Headquarters have been diverted to the Grand Line. Without freelancers like you... people 'not bound by the rules,' the waters around Rum Town would have become a pirate playground long ago."

Moore's expression turned complicated as he studied the young man through the bluish-white smoke.

Three years ago, this young man had suddenly appeared in the West Blue and annihilated an eight-million-Beli pirate crew with overwhelming force. From then on, the name Rain "Grayrock" had spread through the Underworld of the West Blue.

As a Marine, Moore should have remained highly vigilant toward a dangerous individual like Rain, someone who possessed terrifying Logia powers and was beyond government control. But the reality was that Rain never attacked civilians, never provoked the Marines, and only targeted pirates with high bounties and heinous records.

In a sense, Rain had become a Black Blade hidden in the shadows for Rum Town's Marine branch.

"Go on, Colonel." Rain keenly caught the shift in Moore's tone. Setting the cash case by his feet, he leaned back into the sofa. "You sent your adjutant away and started flattering me. You're not just here to complain that I dirtied your carpet, are you?"

Moore gave a bitter laugh. Since Rain had seen through him, he stopped beating around the bush. He pulled open a drawer, took out a kraft-paper envelope stamped with a red Top Secret seal, and pushed it across the desk.

"A real big fish has entered our waters."

Rain raised a brow but did not reach for the envelope. "How big?"

"Baroque the 'Mad Rhino.' A Zoan-type Rhino-Rhino Fruit user. Bounty... thirty-five million Beli." Moore's voice grew grave. "He's a pirate who retreated from the Grand Line a month ago. He may not have been able to survive in the first half, but in the Four Blues, he's unquestionably a monster."

"A loser from the Grand Line..." Rain finally showed some interest. He had been steamrolling weaklings in the Four Blues for far too long. Ordinary guns and blades could no longer give him any enjoyment in battle.

"Where is he?"

"That's what's giving me a headache." Moore walked to the wall, pulled down a nautical chart of the West Blue, and pointed to a black dot not far from Rum Town. "Kars Mine Island. An iron mine island abandoned ten years ago. Baroque has occupied it with over fifty of his remaining elite men."

Moore turned back to Rain. "Kars Mine Island's terrain is extremely complicated, and it's surrounded by reefs. Warships can't get close at all. The island is covered in abandoned mine shafts and hard rock walls—easy to defend, hard to attack. If I launch a frontal assault, I'll have to sacrifice at least two hundred Marines, and even then we might not be able to take down that thick-skinned Rhino-Rhino Fruit user."

Rain understood what Moore meant.

Large-scale fleet engagements and positional warfare were the Marines' strengths, but they were far too cumbersome for this sort of special operation, with its complex terrain and powerful Devil Fruit user stationed there.

"So you need a sharp scalpel to cut out this tumor." Rain's long fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest.

"Not just that." Moore took a deep pull from his cigar. "Intelligence indicates that Baroque didn't occupy the mine island merely to become a bandit. He's forcing civilians from nearby villages to excavate something deep within the mines. Supposedly, it's a rare ore that can be used to make high-strength weapons. He plans to trade it for arms on the underground black market and make a comeback."

At the words "forcing civilians," Rain's fingers stopped tapping the armrest. A faint, nearly imperceptible chill flashed through his black eyes, which had been calm as still water.

"The thirty-five-million-Beli bounty, plus five million Beli in intelligence fees personally sponsored in my name." Moore braced both hands against the desk and stared hard at Rain. "I want his head. More importantly, the civilians taken to the island as laborers must return alive."

This went against Marine regulations. Hiring a bounty hunter for a rescue operation—if it were exposed, Moore would absolutely lose his position. But he had no other choice. As an old soldier who still possessed a bottom line of justice, this was the best solution he could offer.

Rain silently watched Moore for a full half minute.

Just as Moore thought he would refuse or demand more money, Rain picked up the cash case from the floor and rose to his feet.

"Kars Mine Island is all rock, right?" Rain tugged at his coat collar and turned toward the office door.

"Yes, the entire island is almost entirely made of Granite and basalt." Moore froze for a moment before answering instinctively.

A cold, confident curve lifted at the corner of Rain's mouth.

Fighting a Logia user who had eaten the Rock-Rock Fruit in a place covered in stone? That pirate named Baroque was practically choosing the most luxurious grave in the world for himself.

"Prepare forty million Beli, Colonel." Rain gripped the doorknob and spoke without looking back. "Also, get me a speedboat and enough quality meat to last a week. I'll leave before dawn tomorrow."

"Leave it to me." Moore let out a long breath of relief.

The door opened, and Rain stepped back into the wind and rain outside. As the rain fell to within ten centimeters of his head, it seemed to strike an invisible barrier and slide away without a sound. It was an almost invisible layer of rock dust that Rain had formed around his body—a completely waterproof "dust umbrella."

The hunter had accepted the commission.