A dull impact came from the arena below, like something heavy crashing into sand.
A brief cheer followed, only to be swallowed by an even louder uproar.
The other warrior with the curved horns should have finished his fight by now-the bull-headed man named Rody never wasted time in a contest of strength.
"He's strong."
The girl's ears turned toward the sound. "But not cautious enough."
"Cautious people don't come to the New World."
Rossi flicked a coin into the air, watching it trace a silver arc before falling back into his hand. "Much less choose this route."
They both knew what this route meant.
A few islands away, the enormous island that reveled all year round lay like a colorful trap spread wide.
And the man who ruled it held the legal right to plunder, granted by the World **.
The title of Shichibukai was no ornament. It was a blade hanging over these waters.
"So you really plan to walk straight in?"
The girl asked.
"Someone has already chosen our path for us."
Rossi looked toward the end of the pier.
Several people in brightly colored uniforms were striding toward them, the swords at their waists swaying in rhythm with their steps. "The moment they drew first, our way back disappeared."
The uniformed group stopped ten paces away.
Their leader was a tall, thin man with exaggerated greasepaint on his cheeks, like a circus clown.
But there was no trace of laughter in his eyes.
"To ** on Carnival Island,"
the thin man began, his voice as shrill as nails scraping glass, "do you know what that means?"
The beast-eared girl took half a step forward.
Her stance was relaxed, but the lines of her shoulders had already tightened. "We're just waiting for someone."
"For whom?"
The clown