Chapter 67: The Guide

The air fell instantly silent.
The fishermen, terrified by the monstrous sea beast right before their eyes, barely dared to breathe, each inhalation measured, their limbs so stiff they didn’t even dare wipe away the cold sweat beading on their foreheads.

Garen, Nami, and Wallace also lapsed into silence, but unlike the fishermen, their faces showed not a hint of panic—only an indescribable strangeness.

Curiously, the expression that mirrored the fishermen’s was found not on a human face, but on the immense sea beast emerging from the water: the former warrior of the Evil Dragon Pirates, Moo Moo, the giant sea cow.

Its eyes, as large as automobiles, stared wide and round. Its mouth—capable of swallowing a sailboat whole—gaped slightly open. On its comically bovine face, a human-like expression of panic slowly emerged.

“Hey!”
Garen broke the silence, calling out.

He’d barely managed a few words, intending to greet this “old acquaintance,” when Moo Moo’s enormous body, only half risen from the water, suddenly shuddered.

“Moo!”
With a low bellow, Moo Moo seemed to reverse its emergence from the water, replaying the scene in fast backward motion...

Before Garen could utter another word, the massive bovine head had already plunged straight back beneath the waves.

Within seconds, Moo Moo’s submerged silhouette vanished entirely from Garen’s view.

“So that’s why I couldn’t find it when cleaning up the battlefield—it had fled to another sea,” Garen muttered, watching the sea cow’s hasty retreat, slinging his greatsword back onto his shoulder with a hint of speechlessness.

“That sea beast actually spared us?”
The fishermen, wild with delight, shouted, “We are unbelievably lucky!”

Their cries of relief soon rang out all around, the “survivors” unable to contain the exhilaration of having escaped death.

“Quit your shouting!”
Nami couldn’t help but stop the jubilant fishermen, then helplessly revealed the truth:

“That stupid cow ran because it was scared of us, alright?”

“No way!”
Several fishermen, still pale from their fright, turned to Garen’s group and protested adamantly, “How could a terrifying sea beast like that be scared off by humans?”

A fisherman who had calmed down slightly finally noticed something odd about Garen and asked in surprise, “Why are you suddenly wearing a suit of armor?”

“It’s my special ability,” Garen replied simply.

Wallace, however, frowned and asked with concern, “You don’t recognize Lord Garen?”

“Haven’t you ever read the newspaper?”

“Newspaper?”
The fishermen answered in confusion, “Is this young man someone famous?”

“Of course,” Wallace replied seriously. The “Knight of Justice, Garen” was a headline he himself had crafted for the news.

“We honestly never read the papers…”
The fishermen exchanged glances, their faces breaking into awkward, helpless smiles. “We just can’t afford them.”

“Can’t afford them?”
Nami exclaimed, “A newspaper costs only a hundred Berries!”

“You’re even more stingy than I am…”

The fishermen’s smiles grew even more forced, their voices tinged with hardship. “We’re just laborers under Lord Krieg’s command—our fate is to toil endlessly.”

“We never have a single Berry to our names.”

Garen caught the implication and couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

As if finally finding an outlet for their grievances, the fishermen began to pour out their woes in turn.

It turned out that the Krieg Pirates had completely divided their ranks into two classes: professional fighters and ordinary civilians.

The professional fighters enjoyed lavish benefits and nearly unrestricted freedom, while the lower-class civilians were managed under harsh, oppressive conditions as full-time laborers.

These workers had no personal freedom, earned not a single Berry in wages, received strictly rationed survival supplies, and were forced to labor for the Krieg Pirates…

Through generous benefits, Krieg had cultivated more than five thousand highly loyal, motivated, and capable fighters, while his oppressive policies squeezed enormous funds from the lower-class civilians to sustain his pirate fleet.

As for the fishermen before them, they were those at the very bottom—so poor they couldn’t even afford a newspaper.

Their entire existence revolved around catching fish to earn money for the Krieg Pirates.

“Isn’t this just slavery?”
Garen, seeing a magnified version of the Evil Dragon Pirates’ methods, grew visibly angry. “So I came looking for Krieg’s trouble for good reason!”

“You…”
A few fishermen’s eyes lit up, so excited they even changed their form of address. “Are you a pirate hunter, sir?”

“Something like that,” Garen admitted without hesitation.

The fishermen exchanged glances, complex emotions flickering in their eyes. After a brief silence, their faces erupted with excitement, as though they’d seen an angel descend from heaven:

“Please, you must defeat that demon Krieg!”

“We can lead the way!”

“Of course,” Garen replied softly. “I came to take Krieg’s head.”

“Don’t be so foolish!”
Suddenly, a loud shout rang out.

It was the captain of the fishing boat, old Dax.

His face was grim, his tone harsh and severe:
“I’ve seen plenty of arrogant pirate hunters like you!”

“A bounty of seventeen million doesn’t represent Krieg’s true strength—don’t throw your lives away!”

“Hm?”
Garen was not at all intimidated by such words; he simply waved his hand dismissively.
“Old man, don’t worry!”

“I’m not the kind of weakling who can’t judge his own strength!”

But Dax would not relent, only growing more agitated as he scolded,
“I’m only trying to help you!”

“If you turn back now, there’s still time—”

He hadn’t finished before a few younger fishermen hurriedly pulled him aside, forcibly restraining him.

While holding Dax back, they put on ingratiating smiles and said to Garen,
“The old man’s just scared stiff by Krieg…”

“Please, don’t listen to him!”

“You’re our only hope for freedom!”

Garen sensed something amiss, but he wasn’t about to be intimidated by a handful of ordinary fishermen while on a mission of vengeance.

So he frowned deeply and said in a low voice,
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the Krieg Pirates.”

The old captain, Dax, firmly held by his companions, looked at Garen’s confident expression and, thinking of something, suddenly ceased his struggle. He sighed helplessly, his gaze toward Garen filled with a complicated mixture of worry and hope.

“Thank you, sir!”
The fishermen nodded hastily, their smiles fawning.
“We’ll guide you!”

…

Krieg’s island stronghold.

A towering man draped with all manner of shields stood at the dock, barking orders at the laborers in a show of blustering authority:

“Be careful with these! These are high-grade goods Lord Krieg bought from the Grand Line! If you break them, you can’t repay even with your lives!”

“Y-yes, sir!”
The laborers, burdened with heavy loads, bent their backs even lower, bowing anxiously before the shield-clad man.

“Captain Palu!”

This peculiar fellow, who wore shields as clothing, was none other than Palu the Iron Wall, captain of the Krieg Pirates’ Second Battle Squad and third in command within the crew.

Palu strode arrogantly along the dock, flaunting his authority before the lowly laborers.

He failed to notice that beyond the harbor—crowded with the Krieg Pirates’ massive warships—a nondescript little sailboat was slowly approaching.

“The Krieg Pirates really are loaded…”
Garen couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of the dozens of colossal warships lined up in the harbor.

The Krieg Pirates were indeed rolling in wealth:
Each of those imposing warships in the harbor would put even Colonel Smoker’s flagship of the East Sea Navy to shame.

As for Krieg’s own flagship, the “Dreadnought Saber,” in sheer size it was no less than the giant warships used by Vice-Admiral Garp.

The fishermen’s expressions immediately tensed.
They cast complex looks at Garen, as though worried he might lose his nerve at the overwhelming sight.

But Garen had no intention of fleeing. His gaze was already fixed on the flamboyant, cross-dressing man swaggering along the dock.

Garen’s little sailboat steadily drew closer, finally coming to rest at the dock.

Busy playing overseer, Palu the Iron Wall finally noticed the unfamiliar vessel and instinctively cast a wary glance its way.

Garen, already clad in armor and carrying his greatsword, stood at the prow and met Palu’s gaze without flinching.

A subtle tension immediately filled the dock.

Yet the calm lasted only a moment before it was shattered—not by Garen the knight, nor Palu the Iron Wall, but by the fishermen who had followed Garen all the way.

They rushed past Garen, scrambling madly to reach Palu.

Before they’d even finished running, the fishermen began shouting,
“I have something to report!”

“There’s—a pirate hunter among us!”

Two of the fastest had already reached Palu’s side.
They spun around, pointing straight at Garen, their faces instantly adopting expressions of utmost sycophancy.

“Captain, it’s this man!”