Bellamy was practically vibrating with excitement.
Ever since joining the Donquixote Family, he'd burned with the desperate need to prove himself worthy of Doflamingo's attention. Every sleepless night was consumed by visions of his idol's approval, every waking moment dedicated to demonstrating that accepting him into the family had been the right choice.
That burning ambition had driven his bold declaration to conquer the Grand Line, a promise he intended to keep, no matter the cost.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
The Bellamy Pirates had been sailing toward the Red Earth Continent, following their carefully planned route to paradise, when devastating news reached them through the underground networks. Some upstart crew calling themselves the Hell Pirates had seized a Donquixote Family operation, brazenly challenging the organization's absolute authority in the North Blue.
Within hours, Trebol himself had contacted Bellamy directly through encrypted Den Den Mushi channels. The slimy executive's message had been crystal clear: Young Master Doflamingo would be very pleased if someone reminded these Hell Pirates exactly who controlled these waters. The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air, success would earn recognition, while failure meant irrelevance.
Bellamy hadn't hesitated for a single heartbeat. The ship's course changed immediately, following leaked intelligence reports toward the Far North coordinates where their prey supposedly operated.
Fortune smiled on them during the hunt. The Hell Pirates had recently departed Ice Island according to intercepted communications, but they hadn't fled to distant territories as weaker crews might have. Instead, they seemed content to remain in local waters, apparently unconcerned by the inevitable retaliation their actions would provoke.
Such arrogance would be their downfall.
During the pursuit, additional intelligence had filtered through criminal networks. The Hell Pirates had somehow escalated their rebellion even further, though specific details remained frustratingly vague. Whatever they'd done, it had sent shockwaves through the underground that reached even Doflamingo's inner circle.
None of it mattered. Bellamy possessed every advantage a pirate could ask for, experience, crew size, Devil Fruit powers, and most importantly, the righteous fury of someone fighting to defend his family's honor. His reputation in the North Blue had been built on the bones of countless crews, both ambitious rookies and established veterans who'd underestimated his spring-powered combat style.
Today would add another trophy to his collection, one that would finally secure his place in Doflamingo's inner circle.
"Huh?"
Something dark cut across the sky above him.
Bellamy's enhanced reflexes locked onto the approaching shadow, his mind struggling to process what his eyes were seeing. The object was moving too fast and too high to be conventional artillery, but its trajectory was far too controlled to be debris.
Then reality hit him like a physical blow.
It was a person.
Someone had actually jumped from the enemy ship across the vast distance separating their vessels. The sheer impossibility of such a feat sent ice through Bellamy's veins, but he forced himself to focus on immediate threats rather than philosophical implications.
"Bellamy..." Behind him, Sarkies the hyena's distinctive laughter carried a nervous edge that hadn't been there moments before. "This enemy seems a bit unusual. You'd better take this seriously."
"Hmph! No big deal."
Bellamy's bravado masked growing unease as he watched the figure plummet toward their deck. His ambitions stretched far beyond the North Blue, he intended to challenge the Grand Line's monsters and eventually claim a place among the New World's elite. If he couldn't handle whatever rookie garbage the Four Blues could produce, he had no business dreaming of greater conquests.
But when the enemy finally struck their reinforced deck, the explosive impact sent shockwaves through the entire vessel. The specially treated wood splintered like kindling under the tremendous force, while the ship itself groaned and swayed as if struck by a sea king's tail.
The figure slowly straightened from his landing crouch, revealing a massive frame concealed beneath a dark hooded cloak. Even bent over, he towered above every member of Bellamy's crew, his presence radiating the kind of predatory menace that made seasoned pirates reconsider their life choices.
"Are you kidding me..." one crew member whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. "He actually jumped that distance. I thought he'd fall into the sea for sure."
"Is that supposed to be Yurivich?" another stammered, comparing the imposing reality to grainy bounty photos. "He looks completely different from his pictures..."
The oppressive aura emanating from their uninvited guest had paralyzed most of the crew with primal terror. This wasn't just another pirate, this was something that belonged in the Grand Line's nightmare stories, not the relatively peaceful North Blue.
"Ha!"
Sarkies moved with the fluid grace that had earned him his reputation among the North Blue's criminal elite. His curved kukri blade flashed silver as he struck at the giant's hamstring from behind, while gunner Lily opened fire simultaneously, her enhanced rifle barking rapid shots toward the hooded face.
They were the Bellamy Pirates, not some pathetic small-timers who could be intimidated by theatrical entrances. Even if this monster possessed unusual abilities, coordinated assault from multiple angles would bring down any opponent.
BANG!
The bullet struck its target dead center, producing a metallic ping before bouncing harmlessly to the deck. Not a single drop of blood marked the impact site.
Sarkies's blade met the enemy's leg with similar results, the keen edge scraped across what felt like tempered steel plates rather than human flesh, creating sparks but no visible damage.
"..."
Lily's rifle trembled in suddenly nerveless fingers as the impossible reality sank in. She fired again and again, emptying her magazine in desperate denial, but every shot produced the same result.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each bullet ricocheted harmlessly away, as if the hooded figure's body were made from the same materials as Marine battleship armor.
"Ah!"
Sarkies flipped backward with acrobatic precision, his long green hair streaming as he launched a series of rapid strikes at different target points. But no matter where his blade connected, legs, arms, torso, the result never varied. Steel met steel in showers of sparks that illuminated nothing but futility.
The hyena's predatory grin faded as cold realization washed over him. He stared up at the towering figure with dawning horror, his voice barely a whisper.
"What... are you?"
BOOM!
The answer came in the form of a massive fist emerging from beneath the dark cloak. When it connected with Sarkies's chest, the golden necklace around his neck exploded into glittering fragments while his sternum caved inward with a sickening crunch. Blood erupted from his mouth, nose, and ears as the devastating impact lifted him completely off his feet.
He flew backward like a broken doll, slamming into the ship's reinforced railing with bone-crushing force before collapsing in an unconscious heap. Whether he would ever wake up again remained an open question.
Bellamy's mind went completely blank.
Sarkies might not have possessed Devil Fruit powers, but his combat skills ranked among the North Blue's absolute elite. For him to be defeated with a single casual blow defied every assumption about power scaling that Bellamy had built his career upon.
The hooded giant slowly drew an enormous blade from beneath his cloak, the weapon's dark metal gleaming with malevolent promise. When he moved, the air itself seemed to compress and explode around him, creating visible distortions that spoke to inhuman levels of physical power.
WHOOSH!
The sword cut through the surrounding crew members in a series of movements too fast for the eye to follow. Black crescents of compressed air followed in the blade's wake, each one sharp enough to slice through steel and bone with equal ease.
When the giant finally lowered his weapon, every pirate within striking distance had been dismembered where they stood. Bodies collapsed in spreading pools of crimson that reflected the afternoon sun like broken mirrors.
Instant annihilation.
Terror crawled up Bellamy's spine like some parasitic creature, leaving his entire body rigid with shock. How could this be happening? What kind of monstrous rookie crew possessed this level of destructive capability?
His legs began trembling uncontrollably as the horrific reality sank in. Everything he'd believed about power hierarchies in the North Blue had just been proven catastrophically wrong.
"Trash."
The single word emerged from beneath the hood with the casual dismissal of an apex predator evaluating prey. The killing intent behind it was so intense that sweat began pouring down Bellamy's face like a waterfall.
But that simple insult also triggered something primal within him, the same pride that had driven him to seek Doflamingo's approval in the first place. Veins bulged across his forehead as righteous fury burned away his paralyzing fear.
"I'll kill you!" he roared, channeling desperate rage into his Devil Fruit powers.
His legs transformed into compressed springs, storing massive amounts of elastic potential energy before releasing it all at once. The explosive launch sent him rocketing upward at tremendous speed, his fist aimed directly at the giant's hooded face.
Yurivich's massive hand swept through the air where Bellamy should have been, but grasped only empty space. The spring-powered pirate was simply too fast for conventional reflexes to track.
WHAM!
The devastating punch connected squarely with Yurivich's skull, sending him staggering backward several steps. The force of impact shredded his hood, revealing the inhuman features beneath, black keratinized scales covering his face and limbs, along with a curved horn protruding from his forehead.
But despite the tremendous force behind Bellamy's attack, it had left nothing more than a faint red mark on the scaled flesh.
Bellamy's assault continued without pause. Using the ship's various structures as launching points, he bounced around the deck at impossible speeds, creating a bewildering pattern of ricochets that made targeting him nearly impossible. His form became a blur of motion, attacking from every conceivable angle in rapid succession.
"Trash?" he snarled between strikes, his voice echoing from multiple directions at once. "You arrogant bastard! Can you even see me moving?"
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
His fists hammered into Yurivich's head and torso repeatedly, each impact delivered with spring-enhanced force that could have shattered stone. The giant swayed under the relentless barrage, seemingly unable to mount any effective defense against such overwhelming speed.
"I'll make you pay for those words!" Bellamy screamed, his confidence returning as he found his rhythm. "Pay with your life!"
But even as he landed blow after blow, a disturbing realization began to dawn. No matter how many times he struck his target, Yurivich showed no signs of actual injury. The black scales covering his body seemed to absorb and distribute impact force with supernatural efficiency.
When Bellamy closed in for another devastating combination, time suddenly seemed to freeze around him.
A massive hand materialized out of nowhere, closing around his waist with crushing force while he was still airborne. The fingers contracted like a mechanical vise, and Bellamy's eyes widened in absolute horror as agony exploded through his midsection.
Blood erupted from his mouth in a crimson spray while his body went limp with shock. The sheer impossibility of what had just happened left him stunned beyond the capacity for rational thought.
"You... can you see me?" he gasped through the haze of pain.
"No," Yurivich replied with cold indifference.
"Then... how...?"
"Instinct."
The giant's explanation was as brief as it was terrifying. "Your speed is faster than his, but you're nowhere near as troublesome."
Who was 'he'? Bellamy's confused mind couldn't process the reference, but further contemplation became impossible as another devastating punch drove him down through the deck. The reinforced wood exploded around his body as he crashed through multiple levels of the ship's interior, finally coming to rest in the darkened cargo hold with his eyes rolled back in unconsciousness.
"Trash... that's exactly right."
Yurivich casually discarded the broken body, already dismissing the encounter from his thoughts. His true combat potential lay in swordsmanship, but this opponent hadn't been worth drawing his blade seriously. Simple physical strength had been more than sufficient.
The previous reference had been to Dom, another crew member whose speed-based fighting style had proven far more challenging to counter despite being technically slower than Bellamy's spring powers. Dom's unpredictable movement patterns and tactical intelligence made him a genuinely difficult opponent, while this pirate had relied on nothing but linear velocity.
After adapting to Bellamy's rhythm and timing, Yurivich's combat instincts had easily predicted the optimal moment for a counter-attack. The result had been inevitable.
"Oh? It's over already?"
A familiar voice drew Yurivich's attention toward the water between their ships. Their captain had somehow crossed the gap, standing casually on empty air as if the ocean's surface were solid ground. His hands remained buried in his pockets, and his expression carried the same amused satisfaction of someone watching a mildly entertaining performance.
"A bunch of trash," Yurivich replied concisely, his assessment both accurate and dismissive.
But his gaze lingered on Oboro with unmistakable hunger, the look of a warrior who had found his true challenge. The difference in power between himself and these North Blue pirates was so vast that the fight had provided no satisfaction whatsoever.
"I'm your captain," Oboro reminded him with a slight smile, recognizing the predatory expression. "Don't look at me like that. It's far too early for you to be thinking about challenging me."
He gestured toward their own ship with casual authority. "Come on. Let's go."