One Piece: The True Codex

After gathering information from Ward about the small town where the Red-Beard Pirates frequently stopped to rest, William spent some time preparing before heading there alone. He checked into a local tavern, blending into its rough and chaotic atmosphere.

His appearance had undergone a significant transformation. His hair had grown long, and he now sported a scruffy beard. Gone were his meticulously clean and tidy clothes; his current attire was ragged and stained. The collar and cuffs of his shirt bore wine stains, and a small burn hole from a cigarette marred the hem. Even the katana he used to carry had been replaced by a curved cutlass, more commonly seen among pirates.

Perhaps due to his [Robust] trait or other reasons, William had grown taller recently, now standing just over 1.9 meters. With his altered appearance, it was difficult for anyone to associate him with his former self at a glance.

In this world, taverns often doubled as inns and were frequented by all sorts of people. They were melting pots of sailors, merchants, and wanderers, making them the best places to gather information. When William first arrived, the Red-Beard Pirates had yet to show up, but he quickly confirmed through the chatter of the patrons that Ward's intel was accurate. Thus, he patiently waited in the tavern for nearly two weeks.

One morning, as William woke in his room, he realized the Red-Beard Pirates had likely arrived in town.

The tavern's poor soundproofing meant it was always noisy, regardless of the time of day. The constant din of drunken revelry was a hallmark of the place. But today, the atmosphere was markedly different.

After a quick wash and change, William descended the stairs to the tavern's main floor, confirming his suspicions. Near the bar, a group of burly men exuding an air of menace was drinking.

At the center of attention sat a man nearly two meters tall, his massive, muscular frame straining against a shirt that looked more like a second skin. His immense build made the wooden barstool beneath him seem like a child's footstool. His face was broad and brutish, framed by a dense, needle-like red beard that encircled his jaw.

The bartender served this obvious leader with great care, mixing a drink and placing it before him. Despite his rough appearance, the man's drinking mannerisms were surprisingly refined. He nodded casually to the bartender, picked up the delicate glass—comically small in his massive hands—and sipped slowly, savoring the taste.

None of the other patrons dared to show any dissatisfaction at the man monopolizing the bar. The usual rowdy drunks who shouted and hollered had retreated to the corners, whispering among themselves. The tavern, once filled with raucous noise, had fallen into an uneasy silence. This stark change in atmosphere confirmed to William that the Red-Beard Pirates had indeed arrived.

William's instincts told him that the man at the bar was likely Reis, the first mate of the Red-Beard Pirates and their de facto second-in-command. According to Ward's description, Reis was not only "Red-Beard" Barbarossa's trusted right-hand man but also the brains of the operation. He managed the crew's daily affairs with a sharp mind that belied his brutish appearance, essentially serving as Barbarossa's steward.

Reis had brought five of his most trusted crew members with him. These seasoned pirates, veterans of countless battles, occupied two tables near the bar. Though they appeared relaxed, their seating arrangement was anything but casual. Each pirate's position allowed at least one companion to watch their back.

From the tavern's entrance, the pirates' tables were partially obscured by a support pillar, giving them a strategic vantage point. They could observe anyone entering the tavern, but newcomers would find it difficult to spot them immediately.

The pirates themselves were a motley crew of varying heights and builds, but all shared a common air of menace. Each carried visible weapons—curved cutlasses, hand axes, and even a couple of pistols—making no effort to conceal their armaments. The tavern owner, wearing a sycophantic smile, scurried about with his staff, catering to the pirates' every whim.

Despite their fearsome reputation, pirates were still human. They sought wealth and a better life, not desolation. Thus, they wouldn't necessarily pillage every town they visited. The small town where William now found himself was a regular stop for the Red-Beard Pirates. The tavern owner knew that while he might lose some money catering to them, avoiding conflict with the terrifying first mate would ensure his survival.

But pirates were, by nature, synonymous with trouble.

As the tension in the tavern simmered, the door burst open, and three burly men strode in. Their eyes swept across the room before they made their way toward the bar.

The tavern owner's face fell, but he dared not intervene. The newcomers, too, were rough-looking, each with a curved cutlass at their waist.

"You're the first mate of the Red-Beard Pirates, Reis?" one of the men said as they approached the bar. One of Reis's pirates, still seated, lazily stretched out a leg to block their path. The apparent leader of the trio ignored the gesture and addressed Reis directly.

Reis turned his head, his piercing gaze sweeping over the three men before he returned to his drink. He sipped leisurely and replied in a calm, indifferent tone, "What do you want?"

"We want to join your crew."

"If you want to join, go talk to our men at the harbor. Why come to me?"

The leader of the trio gritted his teeth. "Your men at the harbor said there's no room on the ship, so—"

"So you came to bother me, the first mate?" Reis drained his glass, smacked his lips as if savoring the taste, and slid the glass back to the bartender for a refill. "Every pirate dreams of wealth and survival. Everyone wants to join a strong crew. But the question is, why should we let you aboard?"

"My companions and I are skilled fighters! We've even killed before!"

Reis chuckled derisively. "Skilled fighters? Everyone who wants to join claims to be one. To me, only those who survive several naval battles are worth calling skilled. As for killing, every man on our ship has blood on their hands."

The leader's face flushed with embarrassment and anger. Reis continued, "Don't say I'm not giving you a chance. We recently lost a crew member, so there's an open spot. If you want it, prove who among you deserves it."

Standing behind the trio, William had approached unnoticed and overheard this exchange.

One of the men, annoyed by the earlier humiliation, turned his head at the sound of William's footsteps. He scowled and barked, "Get lost!"

But before he could turn back, he felt a sharp pain on his scalp. William had grabbed a fistful of his hair.

With his left hand yanking the man's head back, William kicked the back of his knee, forcing him into a kneeling position. As the man instinctively leaned back to regain balance, William twisted his head further, exposing his throat. His right hand, now free, clenched into a fist, with the knuckle of his index finger protruding. He struck the man's Adam's apple with a precise, brutal punch.

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