A blood-soaked figure tore through the jungle, his skin and bare feet shredded by thorns and sharp stones, leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints. Yet he paid it no mind.
Run...
Run faster...
Fisher Tiger... you must escape!
A howl of agony roared inside his chest. Fisher Tiger clenched his teeth so hard he nearly shattered them, his bloodshot eyes welling with hot, muddied tears.
From behind him, the sounds of manic laughter, screams, curses, the slicing of blades through flesh, and the thuds of falling bodies echoed faintly, growing more distant by the second.
He didn't dare look back. Eyes squeezed shut, he blindly charged forward through the jungle, desperately fleeing as fast as he could.
Those hollow, broken faces... those tragic yet fearless smiles...
Voices jumbled chaotically in his mind, repeating over and over, turning his thoughts into a tangled mess.
They... had given their last hope of survival to him!
At that thought, Fisher Tiger clenched his fists so tightly his nails pierced into his palms, gritting his teeth with such force it seemed they might crack.
If only... if only I were stronger...
"Damn it!!"
His eyes burned red as he sprinted faster, as if trying to outrun the bloody sounds chasing him.
...
Two minutes later.
At the center of the jungle, before the golden splendor of the palace.
Corpses lay strewn across the blood-soaked ground, swords and spears impaling their bodies. The air reeked of iron and death.
"Damn it!!"
"You useless trash!"
"You didn't train them properly!!"
Saint Phepros raged furiously, his ugly face still twisted in shock, a trail of sticky snot hanging from his nose.
"My theater!!"
"My perfect play... ruined by that damn fishman!!"
"How dare he! A filthy slave should stick to the script!!"
He swung an iron whip violently, cracking it down over and over on a slave trader who knelt before him, trembling in terror.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
With each savage strike, the man was whipped into a bloody, broken heap, his screams echoing around the courtyard—but Saint Phepros showed no intention of stopping.
Only when the slave trader lay completely still, breathless, did Saint Phepros finally toss the whip aside. Still furious, he drew a pistol, pressed it against the corpse's head, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!!
The slave trader's head exploded like a ripe melon, spraying blood and gore everywhere.
The splatter hit the glass dome covering Saint Phepros' head, making his already deranged expression even more twisted.
"Seal the island! Find him!"
"I don't care what it takes—bring that filthy fishman back! If you fail... you can all die along with him!!"
Saint Phepros' roar shook the air, leaving everyone around him trembling uncontrollably.
"Yes, Saint Phepros-sama!"
The guards and two CP0 members responded immediately, vanishing into the jungle in pursuit.
In front of the bloodstained palace, Saint Phepros swept his furious gaze over the field of corpses—and his rage only deepened.
Each body lay still, frozen with a wide, blissful smile on their faces...
As if silently mocking him—and the carefully crafted drama he had so proudly staged.
"Damn fishman... I'll tear you limb from limb!!"
Saint Phepros roared at the sky, his bloodshot eyes wild as he staggered forward, pistol in hand, toward the fallen bodies.
…
Bang, bang, bang!
A burst of bullets exploded into the ground beside him, kicking up clouds of dust and shards of stone.
Fisher Tiger's spine turned cold, his pupils contracting sharply.
They had caught up!
"Don't run, you damn slave!"
"You can't escape!"
"You dared offend Saint Phepros, and you think you can run!?"
"..."
A chorus of hateful, furious curses rang out behind him, making Fisher Tiger grit his teeth and push himself to run even faster.
Cold sweat the size of salt grains beaded on his forehead, while a heavy dread sank deep into his chest.
His steps grew heavier, each breath scraping his throat like a knife, his lungs burning as if set ablaze.
Though the strength of the Fishman race was ten times that of humans, it was nearly useless on land. And after six months of captivity, starvation, torture, and flogging, Fisher Tiger's body was battered and broken, incapable of sustaining a long-distance escape.
This was the case for nearly all the slaves.
Long-term captivity, torment, and malnutrition had robbed them of the ability to flee.
Hearing the footsteps behind him drawing closer, Fisher Tiger suddenly stopped, coughing blood from his mouth as he turned and slammed his hand down!
"Fishman Karate: Senmaigawara Seiken!"
Sshh!
Blood, driven by Fishman Karate's force, splattered into countless needle-thin jets, piercing through the dozen or so gun-wielding guards at the front.
The others froze, a flash of fear flickering in their eyes.
Even after all the torture, this fishman still had such power!?
Seizing the opportunity, Fisher Tiger stomped the ground and shot forward like an arrow.
His bloodied body moved like a swift cheetah through the jungle, but the bleeding from his countless wounds was accelerating visibly.
At this rate, it wouldn't take long before he bled out.
But...
He was close!
Fisher Tiger's bloodshot eyes shone brighter than ever, burning with fierce determination.
Hope was right in front of him.
At the edge of the jungle was the beach...
And beyond the beach...
The vast, endless sea!
Run!
Run!
Run with everything you have!
Fisher Tiger understood why his companions had entrusted him with their final hope.
Because he was a fishman!
On this island surrounded by ocean, only a fishman could escape without a ship.
The sea... if he could just reach the sea...
Blood spilled from his mouth and nose as he clenched his fists tightly.
I'll be free!
Even the World Government's ships and battleships wouldn't be able to catch a fishman once he hit the open water!
Huff, huff...
His steps grew heavier, his breath more ragged.
The scenery blurred around him.
Trees and bushes whipped past on either side.
A sliver of light at the jungle's edge shone like a beacon of hope, falling across Fisher Tiger's bloodstained face.
A smile naturally spread across his face.
Ten meters.
Five meters.
Three meters.
One meter...
He leapt forward!
And the world opened up!
Brilliant sunlight, a refreshing sea breeze—he could already feel the warm embrace of Mother Ocean, the fresh scent of freedom filling his lungs.
He laughed, freely and wildly.
Everything before him became vivid and real.
Until his smile froze.
Two pale, ghost-like figures wearing eerie masks stood silently ahead.
The ocean, just within reach, suddenly felt impossibly distant.
"You can't escape," one of them rasped mockingly.
It was like a bucket of ice water poured over him, snuffing out the light in Fisher Tiger's eyes.
With a thud, he collapsed to his knees.
His gaze was empty, filled with despair.
Am I... really going to die here?
He stared blankly at his blood-soaked hands and body, his spirit hollowing out.
"No, he can."
A cold, detached voice cut through the air.
"Huh?"
The two CP0 agents froze, their faces changing.
Before they could react—
Two swift, razor-sharp flashes broke through the surface of the sea, slicing open hundreds of meters of thin air, piercing both of them in an instant!
Sshh!!
Blood sprayed as two masked heads soared into the sky.
The sudden upheaval left Fisher Tiger completely dazed.
He stared blankly at the two headless bodies falling slowly to the ground, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
A tall, slender figure suddenly appeared before him.
Fisher Tiger stiffly raised his head.
Under the brilliant sunlight stood a young man with striking black hair, his hands casually in his pockets, smiling warmly at him.
A flowing, snow-white cloak billowed behind him, making him appear almost divine.
"Nice to meet you, Fisher Tiger-san..."
The young man smiled and said,
"I'm very happy to meet you."
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake