Chapter 12 - Heir of the Devil
Nathan recognized the face immediately.
Avalo Pizarro—the self-proclaimed "Corrupt King." He had once been a monarch before falling to depravity and power-lust. Blackbeard had freed him during the infamous Impel Down breakout and taken him into his fearsome crew. His strength was said to rival that of Vasco Shot—who was now lying cold and broken thanks to the shockwave of Daytime Tiger.
Nathan took a step forward, his gaze settling on Domino.
She was visibly trembling. Sweat poured down her face in rivulets, trailing past the brim of her officer's cap and soaking her uniform. Her lips were taut, her eyes wide, and her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
There was no defiance left in her body—but still, she tried.
"Hand over the key," Nathan said, his voice calm but laced with warning.
"You wish!" she spat back, summoning the last shreds of her pride.
Smack!
The sound of the slap rang out harshly. In an instant, her head snapped sideways and slammed into the stone wall with a dull thud.
She crumpled to the ground without a sound, unconscious.
Nathan crouched beside her, shaking his head. "You've gotta be kidding me… 'You wish'? You really thought you could talk tough after seeing what I just did? What a joke."
Without another word, he unhooked the heavy key ring from her waist.
Ding! Congratulations, host! You have defeated an enemy. You've been rewarded with 15,000 Reputation Points.
This time, the reward made sense. Domino, despite being an officer, was no real threat. Her will had cracked long before her body gave out.
With the keys in hand, the roaring voices from the surrounding cells grew louder. The pirates of Level 6 were now in a frenzy. They had seen his power—and now, they saw opportunity.
Click.
Nathan unlocked Avalo Pizarro's cell.
Pizarro stared at him like a devout believer witnessing a miracle. "Bro! You're the real deal! Let me out, and I'll follow you to the ends of the world! I'll help you find that legendary treasure—hell, I'll be your right-hand man!"
Nathan raised a brow, lips curling into a half-smile.
"Sorry, bro. But instead of dragging you around, I think I'd rather cash in on the Reputation Points you've got."
"…Reputation Points? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Pizarro looked bewildered. "I don't have anything! Search me if you don't believe it!"
Nathan shook his head, amused. "You didn't before. But now… you do."
As he stepped forward, the hallway filled with screams.
Painful, guttural groans echoed from inside the cell, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground.
Moments later, Nathan stepped out, dusting off his hands.
Ding! Congratulations, host! You have defeated an enemy. You've been rewarded with 30,000 Reputation Points.
The noise from the other prisoners abruptly ceased.
The lively, jeering voices from before were now replaced by stunned silence. Level 6 had turned into a graveyard—silent, eerie, with only the sound of shallow breaths and distant echoes lingering.
Every inmate understood now: Nathan wasn't here to bargain. He wasn't here to rescue anyone. He was reaping.
And he was just getting started.
Nathan approached the next cell—Catarina Devon, also known as the Crescent Moon Hunter. Infamous for her cruelty and cunning, she had been shouting earlier, mocking others and calling for her own release. But now, as she saw Nathan standing before her, calm and smiling, a chill ran down her spine.
Her expression darkened. "What do you want?"
Nathan opened the cell door with a slow, deliberate click. "Didn't I say? I want Reputation Points."
Catarina's bravado cracked. "R-Reputation Points? Tell me how to give them to you! I'll give them—right now!"
Nathan's smile widened. "Thanks for your generosity, then."
Without another word, he swung his leg forward.
BOOM!
The impact was instant. Catarina didn't even have time to scream. Her body slammed into the cell wall and dropped like a ragdoll, unconscious in seconds.
Ding! Congratulations, host! You have defeated an enemy. You've been rewarded with 30,000 Reputation Points.
The silence shattered.
Cries erupted from the surrounding cells.
"Gods above! Someone tell me what the hell this guy wants!"
"What in the world are Reputation Points?! I don't have any gold or weapons—just mud and roaches!"
"Damn it! This guy's even more ruthless than the Marines! At least they talk first!"
Their panic was met with indifference. Nathan simply continued his grim harvest.
Keys in hand, he moved from cell to cell.
Unlock.
Beat down.
Collect reward.
It wasn't long before Level 6 resembled a war zone—bodies slumped across floors, groaning or unconscious, some even motionless. The deepest pit of Impel Down, once the resting place of legends, had been reduced to a playground for one man's unstoppable rampage.
Eventually, Nathan arrived at the last cell at the far end of the corridor.
He paused.
From within, a low voice rumbled—calm, steady, and filled with deadly intent.
"Don't open this door. Or you'll die."
Nathan's brows lifted.
Now that was interesting.
Up to this point, every prisoner had either begged, threatened, or tried to suck up to him.
But this one?
Unshaken. Even in chains. Even locked in the deepest corner of Infinite Hell.
Intrigued, Nathan turned the key and slowly pushed the door open.
A massive shadow lunged out from the darkness.
The man who emerged was a giant of a figure—tall, broad-shouldered, built like a fortress. He had wild golden hair that flowed down his back, and he wore a tattered, dust-covered military uniform, its colors faded with age.
Despite being shackled with heavy Seastone cuffs, he moved like a beast unleashed.
Without hesitation, he raised both his arms and brought them crashing down at Nathan, aiming for his skull with crushing force.
Nathan didn't flinch.
"Overestimating yourself," he muttered.
He raised his leg calmly.
BAM!
His foot struck the man's chest like a hammer, sending a shockwave through his massive frame. The man's knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, grunting in pain.
But he wasn't finished.
"Still feeling cocky?" Nathan asked, tilting his head.
The man's eyes burned with fury. "Get the hell out of my way!"
He pushed off the ground, staggering to his feet with blood dripping from his mouth, and prepared to strike again.
BAM!
Another brutal kick.
This time, the golden-haired man was flung backward, crashing into the cell wall with a crunch. He collapsed again, blood pouring from his mouth, but still—he glared.
"If you've got the guts… then kill me!"
His voice was hoarse, but unyielding. His body trembled from damage, but his eyes never wavered.
Nathan paused.
This one… was different.
There was steel in his gaze. Not the kind born of desperation, but of purpose.
A deep willpower that refused to be broken.
"Military uniform… golden hair… shackled in Level 6…" Nathan muttered aloud, narrowing his eyes as he studied the man's features. "Wait a second…"
Suddenly, realization struck.
"You're not just some pirate… You're him."
Nathan's lips parted in disbelief.
"Don't tell me… you're the legendary 'Heir of the Devil'—Douglas Bullet?!"
The man said nothing—but the way his glare intensified confirmed everything.
Nathan had just stumbled into the presence of a monster.
Not a criminal.
Not a legend.
But a force of destruction that once challenged the Pirate King himself.