A fractured forearm fracture with damage to muscles, nerves, and blood vessels does require long-term treatment. According to the doctor, recovery in my case will take more than six months. I was lucky that I got to treatment on time: the onset of internal bleeding could have been fatal.
I've changed my appearance at the moment. My height is now 1 meter 70 centimeters, my skin has acquired a dark shade with working defects: scars, cuts. The face has become typical of a man in his thirties, but with chaotic features hinting at self-interest and isolation from society. I chose this look so as not to be associated with myself or with the image of Rex.
"Thank you, Doctor. Can I work for you? I asked, holding out the money.
–No,– he replied shortly, taking the payment. Then he waved his hand: – Get out of here! You're getting in the way of receiving clients.
It's sad, but it can't be helped. Now I needed to lay low for a while while my arm was recovering, and already prepare a new appearance for digesting the potion.
Feeling that I had slightly overdone my appearance, I went to a deserted corner and adjusted it a little. He removed most of the defects of the skin and face, giving himself a more neat appearance. At the same time, he changed his manner of behavior, switching to the image of an educated and balanced person.
The next step was choosing clothes. I swapped Rex's oversized T-shirt and pants for a shirt, pants, and shoes. After that, I went to the nearest tavern to rent a room.
The next day, there was a commotion in the morning. There was a commotion in the headquarters. From here, a group of guards could be seen besieging the building.
Wanting to understand what was going on there, I hoped to break through using prediction. It's a pity that it didn't work, as something was blocking these predictions. Most likely the presence of Kizaru.
The process of destroying the Fang pirates was long and methodical.
I was cautiously making my way closer, trying not to attract attention, when I noticed the arrival of an admiral in bright yellow clothes. He was exactly as the rumors and rare notes described him: gigantic, three meters tall, with a slight boredom on his face. The yellow suit stood out even in the turmoil of the battle, but it wasn't the clothes that captured the spotlight. The admiral hovered in the air, waiting for the marines to take up positions. As soon as the last troops surrounded the headquarters, the admiral turned his head from the guards to the building.
Immediately after that, Kizaru flew inside the headquarters.
The silence was replaced by chaos: screams, the sound of walls breaking and metal clanging could be heard inside the building. The pirates, like rats, began to run out through all possible exits, but they did not meet salvation there, but death. A merciless hail of bullets rained down on everyone running. The marines destroyed the targets with perfect accuracy, leaving no chance for anyone. The shots sounded clear, rhythmic, like a preordained ending. None of the pirates even managed to get close to the shelter.
Two large silhouettes, half—fang and half-lion, jumped out of the building almost simultaneously. Gordon, a massive half-bull, broke through, smashing furniture and walls like a live battering ram. Polulev, on the contrary, looked confused, but managed to throw off several guards. His freedom did not last long: as soon as he was outside the building, Kizaru sent him back inside with one careless kick, breaking several walls. The admiral's movements were fast, almost imperceptible, as if space itself was obeying his will.
Gordon continued his charge, ignoring the shots that only left small cuts on his powerful body. He ran straight at the formation of sentries, lowering his head with a roar, preparing to sweep them out of the way. But he was stopped. A man about two and a half meters tall with a bright black mohawk and a severe mustache stood in front of him like a wall. It was Momonga, a vice admiral known for his iron will. Gordon tried to hit him, but Momonga stepped aside with frightening ease, as if he had predicted every move.
The katana flashed in his hands. With one precise swipe, he left a deep cut on Gordon's side. The bull fell to its knees, shaking the ground, but the vice admiral did not finish it off. Instead, he gave a short order, and the guards immediately put Gordon in powerful shackles. His rage and strength meant nothing anymore.
Meanwhile, the noise inside the building increased. Something was happening there that remained hidden from view, but became obvious: the headquarters was on the verge of destruction. The figure of Kizaru, still with a bored and slightly upset face, flew out.
A moment later, the building collapsed. It folded up like a house of cards, raising huge clouds of dust. No one else came out from inside. The guards took up positions around the wreckage, ready to stop any escape attempt.
The detention continued at lightning speed. The marines, like one machine, recognized the pirates according to the testimony of witnesses. Those who surrendered couldn't escape the shackles, even if they didn't try to resist. Rex's team also fell into this circle: they were chained up quickly and without unnecessary words. The soldiers nearby continued to move with military discipline, not even paying attention to them.
An hour later, Fang's body was found in the ruins. He was still in the form of a half—lion-massive and menacing, but with a cold, fixed gaze. His skin was flawless, not a single scratch. But the truth was revealed quickly. My quick fortune-telling in the bathroom confirmed that he died from internal injuries sustained during the collapse of the building.
After leaving with the last of the onlookers, I headed towards the tavern, noticing along the way how the streets around me gradually came to life after Fang's capture. Not everyone was returning to their usual lives — the townspeople kept whispering to each other, casting cautious glances at the groups of patrollers who were combing the alleys and back streets in search of the remaining pirates.
Some of the merchants had obviously only now decided to open their shops, but their movements remained nervous— every clatter of the guards' boots or the slamming of the door made them flinch. There was tension mixed with relief in the air. No one said it out loud, but everyone understood that today the city had seen a force before which even people like Fang were nothing.
When I got to the tavern, I took an empty table in the corner, just away from the noise. After ordering a simple stew and a mug of water, I unfolded the map. While the spoon was rhythmically scooping up food, thoughts began to gain clarity.
In fact, the plans didn't require much effort. Staying here, digesting the Faceless One's potion and at the same time looking for a way to get to Water 7 — everything sounded logical and rational. However, I couldn't help but think that this city could become both a safe haven and a potential trap.
Apparently, the patrol was looking for anyone who had anything to do with the pirates. Even those who might just be in the wrong place at the wrong time risked being suspected. I saw a couple of overly curious passersby stopped, asking seemingly innocent questions. They left under escort without proving anything.
I had no reason to worry, but some part of me still advised me not to attract attention. It is better to remain shadows against the background of their fuss and keep moving forward.