Victor went to the nearest bounty office and took all the bounty posters they had without saying a word. He was determined to get his berry and at the same time "Justice needs to be served."
Day One – The Slavers of Mossrock Isle
Victor flew northwest from Water 7, his senses wide, his haki keen. Rumors from passing merchants had pointed to a group of slavers operating off the coast of Mossrock Isle. Low bounties. Small-time criminals. But their evil was real.
He found them in the evening, anchored near the cliffs, trading children for coin.
He descended in silence.
The slaver captain, Cragg the Clamp, had a Zoan-type: Mole-Mole Fruit. His hands were hardened claws, made for tunneling and crushing bones.
Victor's claws, coated in Armament Haki, shattered them on contact.
The crew of twenty didn't fare better. Two waves of Conqueror's Haki dropped half. The rest were swiftly dealt with using winds that sliced like blades.
The slaves were freed.
He returned the next morning, bodies bound in chains, dragging them behind him on a windsurf.
The bounty office didn't ask questions.
They paid.
Day Two – The Black Knife Twins
The next day led him to Whalebone Atoll, where a pair of infamous bounty heads, the Black Knife Twins, had turned piracy into sadism. Twin brothers—Marx and Veto—famous for cutting up prisoners and auctioning off their fingers as trophies.
Each carried a bounty of 2.3 million.
They also had a shared Zoan: Bat-Bat Fruit, Model: Vampire Bat and Model: Horseshoe Bat. They glided through night air, communicating through ultrasonic screeches.
Victor met them at dusk, their lair hidden inside the cavernous lungs of a dead Sea King skeleton.
They attacked from the shadows.
He became the wind.
His Observation Haki pierced the dark, feeling the micro-shifts in air displacement. Before they could close in, he sent a pulse of sound-dampening wind in every direction, forcing their echolocation useless.
They flailed—blind.
Then he struck.
Claws coated in Armament Haki slashed their wings. He didn't kill them.
They would face justice.
By sunrise, they were trussed and dragged behind him like broken banners.
The Water 7 bounty office was more generous this time.
Day Three – Rasha of the Bleeding Sands
By midweek, Victor was known—though not by name. Whispers in the criminal underworld spoke of a storm-cloaked wraith, a bounty hunter from the skies. Pirates began hiding or fleeing when winds shifted unnaturally.
Victor welcomed the fear.
Next, he traveled south to the Bleeding Sands Archipelago. A lawless chain of isles where Rasha, a sadistic mercenary, reigned. She wore golden rings through her skin and poisoned her blades. Her bounty was low—1.8 million—but she had bloodied far too many villages to ignore.
She had no Devil Fruit.
She didn't need one.
Her blades dripped with toxins from rare island fauna, and she moved like a whisper in the wind.
But Victor had become the wind.
She tried ambushing him in a sandstorm.
He turned the storm against her.
The sand became razors under his Aerokinesis. Her poisons failed against his Armament defenses. She was beaten unconscious and sealed in a gust-wrapped cocoon for transport.
Another pouch of coin filled his satchel.
Day Four – The Rag-Bone Cult
On the fourth day, Victor followed a trail of disappearances to Flintbone, a remote island once used as a mining colony, now a crumbling ruin ruled by superstition.
There, a cult had formed around a man called Father Malvox, claiming to cleanse "sinners" by burning them alive in iron effigies.
Malvox had no bounty. His underlings, though, each carried numbers between 500,000 and 1.2 million—collectively making the cult a goldmine of evil.
Victor approached alone.
He did not speak.
As the cult chanted and summoned their "holy judgment," he unleashed a focused burst of Conqueror's Haki, laced with the roar of the wind. Most collapsed in terror.
The wind tore through the bone-and-rag constructs they used as symbols. Malvox fled, but Victor pursued on foot.
No flight. No powers.
Just raw physicality.
He caught Malvox at the edge of the cliffs and dragged him back by the collar.
The bounty agents hesitated—cult activity was always politically sensitive.
But the bounties were stamped and paid without question.
Victor left the cult's flame extinguished in silence.
Day Five – The Hyena's Wake
News traveled.
By the fifth day, smaller bounty heads began fleeing inland. Some surrendered to the Marines. Others went to ground.
Victor hunted those who didn't hide deep enough.
He flew to Vigil's Hollow, a marshy, rotten cluster of islands covered in fog. There he found Harbo the Hyena, a cruel ex-Marine turned pirate who ran human-hunting "games" for bored nobles.
His Zoan was weak—Hyena-Hyena Fruit. It granted speed, jaw strength, and laughter-induced fear.
It also made him loud.
Victor found him by tracking the echoes.
He brought no theatrics. No announcements.
The fog parted for him. The marsh stilled.
When Harbo charged, jaws wide, Victor shattered them with a single wind-enhanced fist.
The laugh died.
Day Six – Rain City Smugglers
Victor rested for six hours, then took to the skies again, heading toward Rain City, a known smuggler haven masquerading as a trade hub.
Here, he used stealth.
The smugglers were organized, led by Captain Renko, a former pirate turned arms dealer. No Devil Fruit. No notable abilities. Just well-paid guards and hidden ports.
Victor infiltrated at night.
No violence. Just wind manipulation, Observation Haki, and precise strikes. He knocked out twenty guards, disabled six ships, and arrested Renko with minimal injury.
Renko's bounty was only 3.5 million, but the stolen weapons were turned in for a bonus.
Victor returned to Water 7 with full coffers.
Day Seven – Reflection
He sat atop one of Water 7's massive steel towers, watching the sun rise over the shipyards.
His satchel was full.
Gold. Beri notes. Rare ores turned in for credit.
He'd hunted over a hundred bounties in six days. Some small—500,000 beri. Others close to 5 million. None were innocent. All were taken down with precision, not cruelty.
By the end of his hunt, the Pirates called him the "Phantom Hunter". Because no one knew what hit them, until they were taken down.
Victor didn't bask in it.
He didn't revel in being feared.
But in his heart, he felt a quiet satisfaction.
Not from the hunt.
But from the fact that justice had been served without bureaucracy.
He could see Tom in the distance, giving orders, directing cranes and shouting instructions. The first beams of the Byakko were already being laid.
Victor stood.
He walked to the edge of the tower and stepped off.
Wind caught him.
Lifted him.
Carried him forward.
Return to Dock One
Tom was waiting with a cup of coffee and a grin that could outshine the sun.
"Well?"
Victor landed with ease, cloak barely fluttering.
He dropped the satchel.
Tom opened it. His eyes widened.
"You actually did it."
Victor nodded. "Is that enough?"
Tom laughed. "This is more than enough. We'll build you a fortress on the sea."
Victor turned toward the ocean.
"No. We'll build a storm.