The Devil's Special Training for His Younger Siblings

Rektol's wrist gave a sharp twist.

The dry, stiff leather whip drew a blurry afterimage through the air, accompanied by a sharp whistle.

"Crack!"

The whip's tip struck the three-meter-tall granite boulder beside the beach.

The boulder let out a muffled boom. A crack two fingers wide split across its surface, and then it exploded.

Sharp chunks of stone scattered in every direction like buckshot, slamming into the warm sand and leaving more than a dozen pits.

Katakuri, who had still been snoring, jolted awake.

He sprang up from the sand like a loaded spring and fumbled for the scarf around his neck. He pulled too hard, tightening the knot around his windpipe and choking out several coughs.

Cracker, beside him, flinched in fright. The roasted bird bone in his hand fell onto his instep.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up. Then he saw the pink-haired figure standing beneath the shade of the trees, long whip in hand and face expressionless.

Cracker's features instantly scrunched together. His mouth fell open.

"Waaah—"

The wail had barely reached his throat when Rektol lashed the sand beside his feet. Sand splashed all over Cracker's face.

"Shut up." Rektol's voice was cold.

Cracker let out a loud, frightened sobbing hiccup and forcibly swallowed the rest of his wailing. His face turned purple from holding it in, while a strand of snot dangled precariously from his lips.

The other young sisters clung to one another, trembling behind the rock. They looked at Rektol as though he were a demon that had just crawled out of hell.

Rektol marched toward them on his short legs.

His soles pressed into the beach with a dull, rustling sound. It seemed as though even the sea breeze had stopped.

"Sleeping soundly, were we?" Rektol tossed the bloodstained leather whip onto the sand.

Katakuri straightened. He bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, forcing himself not to tremble. But his young knees still shook.

"I told you, the Charlotte Family has no use for trash." Rektol raised his hand and pointed at the group of younger siblings.

"Starting today, every one of you is entering hell-level protective training."

He walked up to Cracker and roughly wiped away the strand of snot with his thumb.

"No one is allowed to cry."

"Tears can't stop bullets on the battlefield. When Rocks brings his blade down, you could cry as loudly as you liked—he'd still chop off your head and feed it to the dogs."

Cracker nodded frantically, his two rows of teeth chattering.

Rektol turned and looked at Katakuri, who was the tallest of them all.

"Take off your clothes. Stand over there."

Katakuri froze for a moment, but didn't dare ask any questions. He hastily pulled off his shirt, revealing a thin but well-defined upper body. Barefoot, he stood on the beach.

Rektol walked over and pressed two chubby fingers directly against Katakuri's chest.

"Urgh!"

Katakuri's eyes flew wide. His spine instantly straightened.

A mass of blue-white electricity burst from Rektol's fingertips and drilled into Katakuri's skin.

This was another use of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.

It wasn't used for destruction. Instead, Rektol precisely controlled the voltage, using high-frequency current to forcibly stimulate the body's cells, accelerating metabolism and wringing out the last trace of potential from the flesh through tearing and repair.

Berserk electricity raced through Katakuri's muscle fibers.

His entire body convulsed violently. A terrifying purplish-red hue spread across his skin. Sweat poured out like a waterfall, only to evaporate into white mist the instant it emerged beneath the current's heat.

It hurt too much.

It was as though a thousand red-hot iron needles had pierced his marrow at once, stirring back and forth inside his blood vessels.

Katakuri clenched his teeth. He bit his lower lip until it bled, and thin streams of blood dripped from his chin onto the sand.

He didn't cry out. He stubbornly held himself upright, his feet digging two deep holes into the beach.

"Not enough." Rektol's expression remained blank as the blue light at his fingertips flared brightly.

Katakuri's eyes rolled back. A beastlike growl rumbled from his throat. His muscles visibly swelled, and veins crawled across his body like tree roots.

It continued for a full five minutes.

Rektol released his fingers.

Katakuri collapsed onto the ground like a puddle of mud, gasping for breath.

But he could feel an unprecedented, violent power surging through every part of his body. His muscle fibers had been forcibly widened, and the vital energy within him was more than twice as rich as before.

"Next." Rektol turned toward Cracker.

The chubby Cracker dropped onto his rear in fright and desperately scrambled backward with both hands and feet.

"Big brother... I'm scared of pain!"

Rektol said nothing. He grabbed Cracker by the collar and dragged him over, then pressed his finger directly against his belly.

A shrill scream rang across the beach.

Several sisters covered their ears and shut their eyes, afraid to look.

The electric-shock training lasted the entire morning.

By the time it ended, everyone was sprawled on the beach like dead dogs, without even the strength to lift a finger. The air was filled with the charred smell of scorched skin.

Rektol stood among them without a drop of sweat on his body.

He nudged Katakuri's leg with his foot.

"Get up. Come with me."

Gritting his teeth, Katakuri braced himself against the sand with one elbow and struggled to rise. His legs were still trembling.

He followed Rektol, staggering one step at a time toward the back of the island.

The back of Totto Land Prototype Island.

It was a cliff connected to the deep waters of the New World. Black rock rose in sheer, blade-cut walls, while the sea below was bottomless.

Waves crashed against the reefs, sending white spray several meters into the air.

The seawater here was deep black, carrying a suffocating, deathly silence.

Several enormous dorsal fins, like black canvas sails, appeared and vanished on the surface. Each fin was larger than a single-masted sailing ship.

The lair of bloodthirsty Sea Kings.

Rektol stood at the cliff's edge, the wind making his clothes snap loudly.

Katakuri stood behind him. Looking at the churning black water below, he swallowed with difficulty.

"Go down." Rektol pointed at the sea.

Katakuri froze. He looked at his empty hands.

"Big brother... my training sword is still on the beach."

Rektol turned his head. His voice was as cold as ice.

"On the battlefield, will the enemy wait for you to pick up your weapon?"

He grabbed Katakuri by the back of his collar and dragged him straight to the cliff's edge.

Several deafening roars rose from below. The foul sea wind mixed with spray and slammed into their faces.

"You only have one thing to do. Survive, then kill your way out with your bare hands."

Rektol let go.

Before Katakuri could steady himself, Rektol raised his foot and kicked him in the lower back.

"Splash!"

Katakuri fell from the cliff dozens of meters above the sea and crashed heavily into the icy black water, sending up a huge spray.

The Sea Kings prowling nearby were instantly drawn by the sound of his fall.

Several enormous black shadows darted through the water, converging on the impact point.

Katakuri thrashed twice in the water. Seawater poured into his mouth, salty and bitter.

He had only just lifted his head above the surface when

a huge maw filled with sharp teeth lunged at him from behind.

"Get lost!"

Katakuri roared and smashed his electrically strengthened right fist into the Sea King's nose.

His finger bones gave a muffled crack. The Sea King cried out in pain and dove beneath the surface.

But more black shadows closed in.

Up on the cliff, Cracker and several sisters had somehow followed them over.

They lay prone at the edge of the cliff, staring down in terror.

"Big brother... second brother is going to die!" Cracker clutched the rocky edge, his knuckles white.

Rektol folded his arms and looked down at the battle on the sea from above. He had no intention of reaching down to save him.

"If he dies, it means that's all he was capable of."

His words were so cold they held not a trace of human feeling.

One day.

Two days.

Three days.

The sea below the cliff had long since stopped being black.

Masses of dark-red blood churned amid the waves. The intense stench of blood attracted even more predators.

Several shattered Sea King corpses floated on the surface. Every one had either had its head smashed apart by fists or its gills torn off.

Katakuri drifted in the bloody water.

He gasped for breath, his lungs burning as though a fire raged inside them.

His body was covered in wounds deep enough to expose bone. The seawater had soaked them until they turned white and gaped open, and the pain had long since gone numb.

Three days and three nights of extreme slaughter.

His stamina had been drained to the very last drop. Even raising an arm was as slow as struggling through mud.

All ten of his fingers were broken. They hung limply, incapable of forming a fist.

The sun above was painfully bright. Katakuri's vision kept fading to black.

"Whoosh—"

The seawater suddenly exploded.

A Super-Giant Sea King over fifty meters long burst out of the water with a thunderous roar.

Water cascaded from its body, covered in hard scales, like a waterfall.

It opened a maw large enough to swallow a warship. Inside were rows upon rows of barbed teeth.

The thick stench of fish and rotting flesh rushed toward them.

The enormous shadow completely enveloped the exhausted Katakuri.

Up on the cliff.

Cracker and the sisters, who had been watching for three days, turned deathly pale.

As they stared at the giant jaws about to close, they let out shrill screams.