"What the hell… how strong is he?"
"He kicked Big Head clear across the room!"
"Forget swords—use the guns! I don't care how strong he is, let's see him dodge bullets!"
The traffickers fumbled for their muskets, raising them toward White Flame.
But before they could fire, a lazy voice drifted from the upper floor.
"Now, now… is that any way to treat a guest? Put the guns down."
Everyone turned toward the stairs.
A tall, broad man descended slowly, wearing a tattered fur coat. His balding head gleamed under the dim light, and a long scar stretched across his forehead. A pair of muskets hung at his waist, and a massive, jagged greatsword shaped like a shark's tooth rested on his shoulder. His muscles bulged like coiled steel.
"So you're their boss?" White Flame asked casually, lighting a cigarette.
"That's right," the man said, grinning. "Name's Tuwindis. They call me Evil Shark. I've killed plenty of Sea Kings, though not many actual sharks."
His gaze locked onto White Flame, studying him. Then his eyes widened slightly.
"If I'm not mistaken… you're that 'man-eating monster' Doflamingo's been hunting all across the city, aren't you?"
At those words, the room erupted into nervous murmurs.
"The man-eater?"
"It's really him?"
"Gods… he's just a kid!"
Every one of them had heard the rumors—the faceless killer who devoured his victims, leaving nothing but bones behind.
Even the most hardened criminals in Dressrosa spoke of him in hushed tones.
Now he was standing right in front of them.
White Flame exhaled a slow stream of smoke and smirked.
"I was wondering when someone would finally recognize me. Took you long enough—the posters don't even do me justice."
Tuwindis narrowed his eyes.
"Man-eating monster, huh? Don't tell me you came here planning to eat all of us. You think your stomach's big enough for that?"
White Flame didn't answer. His gaze drifted toward the corner of the warehouse—toward the girls huddled there, trembling.
When they felt his eyes on them, they flinched, their fear deepening.
They'd heard the name man-eater too. And if the rumors were true, this young man was even worse than the slavers themselves.
But one of the girls caught his eye.
"Rebecca," he murmured.
The pink-haired girl looked up, startled. Her porcelain features and wide, tearful eyes were unmistakable.
The granddaughter of Dressrosa's former king—Rebecca.
She was still young, maybe twelve or thirteen, but the grace of royalty already showed in her face. Someday she'd be breathtaking.
Rebecca met White Flame's gaze.
Fear flickered there—but beneath it was something else.
Hope.
CRASH!
The warehouse doors burst open with a deafening bang.
"You filthy traffickers! You dared lay hands on Rebecca—I'll never forgive you!"
A one-legged toy soldier stood in the doorway, musket in hand, his voice filled with fury despite his frozen wooden expression.
"Soldier-san!"
Tears welled in Rebecca's eyes. She tried to speak, but the tape over her mouth muffled every sound.
White Flame turned, eyes glinting.
"Kyros…?"
The toy soldier froze.
"You… you know my name?!"
Since being turned into a toy, no one—not even his own daughter—had remembered him. For someone to speak his true name… it stunned him.
"I know enough," White Flame replied coolly. He looked back toward the slavers. "Since you're here, you can handle the small fry. Leave the boss to me."
Kyros's wooden face tilted in confusion.
"You expect me to handle the small ones while you—? Don't be ridiculous! I came here to—"
White Flame dropped his cigarette and ground it under his boot.
Then he moved.
"Damn, he's fast!"
"Who is that kid?!"
"Forget him—save Rebecca!"
Kyros raised his musket and opened fire, cutting down several traffickers in a flurry of precise shots.
The air filled with gunfire and screams as chaos erupted.
But White Flame didn't so much as glance their way—his focus was locked on the towering brute before him.
"So you're the man-eater," Tuwindis growled. "Don't think you can intimidate me, boy. I'll make you regret walking in here!"
He swung his massive shark-tooth greatsword down in a blur of steel.
White Flame's eyes flashed.
"Thirty-six million Berries… and this is all that buys me? Pathetic."
He stepped forward—calm, almost bored.
"I was hoping to use you as a whetstone. But it seems you're not even fit for that."
With that, his feet hit the floor twice in quick succession, his body blurring upward.
He landed lightly on the stair rail above, twisted mid-air—then drove his leg down in a sweeping arc.
CLANG!
His kick struck the greatsword, knocking it clean aside with a thunderous metallic scream.
Before Tuwindis could react, White Flame's other foot slammed into his face.
BOOM!
The impact echoed through the entire warehouse.
The massive slaver's body lifted off the ground and flew backward, crashing through a wall in a storm of dust and splinters.
White Flame landed lightly, straightening his coat.
He didn't even glance at the body.
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