The sickening crunch of breaking teeth echoed across the silent marketplace.
Charlotte ignored the gang leader's muffled groans, instead focusing on the bloody gold tooth that had skittered across the cobblestones. Every piece of metal, no matter how small, represented precious currency—and currency meant survival in this world.
"Woo—!" Bess clutched his ruined mouth, crimson seeping between his fingers as he watched Charlotte pocket the tooth with methodical calm.
After a moment's consideration, Charlotte delivered a contemptuous kick to the fallen man's ribs. Bess sailed through the air like a broken doll, crashing into his scattered underlings with bone-jarring impact.
"Disappear," Charlotte commanded, his voice carrying the cold finality of winter wind. "If I see any of you again, you won't get off so easily."
Terror seized the surviving gang members. Those who could still move scrambled to their feet, hauling their groaning leader between them as they fled into the maze of side streets. Their panicked footsteps echoed off stone walls until distance swallowed the sound entirely.
Charlotte's laughter rang out across the empty market—wild, cathartic, tinged with the madness that came from too long in isolation. A full year of mountain solitude had built up pressure in his soul like steam in a boiler, and this violent release felt better than any therapy.
Returning to his stall, he straightened the scattered pelts with practiced efficiency. The confrontation had actually worked in his favor—word would spread quickly about the orphan who'd humbled the Wild Wolf Gang, and curiosity would draw customers like moths to flame.
By afternoon, he'd sold his finest pelts for a total of 140,000 berries—more money than he'd ever possessed in either life. The remaining scraps weren't worth the effort of hauling them back up the mountain, so he packed them away for future use.
With coin weighing down his pockets, Charlotte made his way to the blacksmith district.
•~•
"Boss! I need custom ironwork!"
The hammer-song that had been ringing from within the forge fell silent. Moments later, a mountain of a man emerged, leather apron stained with soot and sweat, massive sledgehammer still gripped in calloused hands.
"What can I build for you, young master?"
Charlotte produced a carefully drafted blueprint from his jacket—the product of many evenings spent sketching by firelight in his mountain cave. The blacksmith's bushy eyebrows climbed toward his receding hairline as he studied the strange designs.
"These... aren't like anything I've made before," the man admitted, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "Farm tools and simple blades I can manage, but this..." He gestured at the intricate mechanical components. "This will take time. A month, maybe more."
"A month?" Charlotte's jaw tightened. "That's too long. Can you handle these pieces?" He pointed to several simpler components. "I'll distribute the rest among other smiths."
The blacksmith nodded readily—partial payment was better than no payment, and the work looked challenging enough to be interesting.
Charlotte left a substantial deposit and moved on to the next forge. By evening, he'd divided his custom orders among all three smiths in town, ensuring delivery within the week. Whatever he was building, it required precision engineering that no single craftsman could provide alone.
•~•
His neglected cottage stood exactly as he'd left it—walls stained with a year's worth of weather, thatch roof sprouting weeds like an unkempt garden. The sight might have depressed another man, but Charlotte had spent twelve months sleeping on stone and earth. Compared to mountain caves, even this hovel felt luxurious.
Sleep came easily after such an eventful day.
It was the prickling sensation across his scalp that saved his life.
•~•
Twenty meters away, hidden in the moon-shadow of a gnarled tree, Bess steadied his pistol with trembling hands. His jaw throbbed where Charlotte had shattered bone and torn flesh, but rage burned hotter than pain. The humiliation he'd suffered in front of the entire town demanded blood—demanded the permanent silence of the only witness to his defeat.
Through the cottage's crumbling walls, moonlight revealed Charlotte's sleeping form. An easy target, defenseless and unaware.
Bess squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot split the night like thunder.
But Charlotte's head had already moved—not from conscious thought but from pure instinct, future sight screaming danger in the microsecond before death arrived. The bullet carved a burning line across his scalp instead of through his brain, close enough that he felt the heat of its passage.
Cold terror flooded his veins even as he rolled from his straw mattress. Someone had just tried to murder him in his sleep.
"Who's there!" His roar shattered the post-midnight silence.
Charlotte exploded through his doorway like an avenging demon, and his eyes immediately found the source of his near-death experience. Bess stood frozen in shock, smoking pistol still raised, his bandaged face a mask of disbelief.
He missed. At twenty meters with a clear shot, he somehow missed.
"You bastard!" Charlotte's fury ignited like oil meeting flame. "I spared your worthless life, and this is how you repay mercy?"
There was no more time for words.
Charlotte moved with inhuman speed, crossing the distance between them in three explosive strides. Bess tried to raise his weapon for a second shot, but Charlotte's fist was already in motion—not aimed at flesh, but driving straight through it.
The sickening squelch of penetrating tissue filled the air as Charlotte's arm punched completely through Bess's chest cavity. Ribs snapped like kindling. Heart and lungs ruptured under the devastating impact. When Charlotte withdrew his blood-soaked arm, Bess stood swaying for two eternal seconds before collapsing in a boneless heap.
The gang leader's remaining followers stared in paralyzed horror at the impossible sight—a seventeen-year-old boy had just killed a grown man with his bare hands, driven his arm through solid muscle and bone like it was wet paper.
Some of them possessed enough survival instinct to run. Others remained rooted in place by shock.
Charlotte focused on the runners first.
His enhanced physique made pursuit trivial—legs that could outrun mountain wolves carried him past the fleeing criminals in seconds. Rather than kill them outright, he swept their legs, sending them tumbling across the rocky ground in tangles of bruised limbs.
When he grabbed the first survivor by the ankle, an unexpected sensation flooded his mind—not his own thoughts, but the panicked internal monologue of his prisoner.
It's over, it's over, I'm dead. Oh gods, what about my family? My lovers? They'll never know what happened—
The phenomenon startled Charlotte so much that he nearly released his grip. Somehow, physical contact was allowing him to read surface thoughts—another manifestation of his awakening abilities in this supernatural world.
He grabbed the second captive, and that man's mental voice proved far different.
Let me go, you little shit! When I get free, I'll gut you like a fish! I'll make you scream before you die!
Charlotte's expression hardened. The first man was simply a frightened criminal trying to survive. The second was a killer who would never stop hunting him.
"I gave you all a chance to walk away," Charlotte said quietly, then drove his knee upward with bone-crushing force.
The would-be murderer's scream cut off abruptly as his sternum caved inward. He writhed on the ground for several agonizing seconds before going still.
The surviving gang member whimpered like a beaten dog, tears streaming down his dirt-stained face.
"Please don't kill me! I have children! I'll do anything!"
Charlotte studied the man's terrified features, then extended his hand. When their skin made contact, he felt genuine remorse radiating from the criminal's mind—regret for choices made, fear for family left behind, desperation to somehow survive this nightmare.
"You're from the Wild Wolf Gang," Charlotte stated. "Tell me where your boss kept his treasure."
The man's relief at still being alive made him pathetically eager to cooperate. "Bess had everything locked in a safe at his manor house! Money, valuables, weapons—all of it's still there! I can show you!"
Charlotte read the truth in the man's thoughts, along with an accurate estimate of the gang's accumulated wealth. It wasn't a fortune by pirate standards, but for someone starting from nothing, every berry counted toward his ultimate goals.
"Lead the way," Charlotte commanded. "And remember—I can sense lies now. Try to deceive me, and you'll join your friends."
As they walked through the moonlit streets toward the gang's stronghold, Charlotte reflected on the night's revelations. His awakening abilities were accelerating—future sight, enhanced physical capabilities, and now some form of telepathic contact. Each power brought him closer to the strength he'd need for the trials ahead.
The Wild Wolf Gang was finished, their leader dead and their organization shattered. But this was only the beginning. Somewhere out there, the Rocks Pirates sailed the Grand Line, gathering Devil Fruits and growing stronger with each passing day.
Charlotte had a family empire to build, and tonight had just provided the seed money for his grand ambitions.