The residential district, a part of Mad Hat Island, was the smallest in size, occupying less than half the area of the other neighborhoods.
Its popularity was equally lackluster.
This district was intended for pirates and underground figures who had chosen to settle down permanently.
Yet, most of the residents here were old pirates like Sol, who had retired from the seas, or those left disabled from battle, living off a modest stash of retirement funds.
These people had lost their means to aspire toward the future. All they had left was a way to eke out a hollow existence.
As a result, the residential district exuded an air of decay and desolation.
Walking down its alleys, the lingering stench of "dead rats" seemed to envelop everything.
Corpses in the streets were a common sight.
After all, not every pirate cast aside by the tides of history could be like Sol—
Someone with the wealth to stomp over gold.
Someone who could afford to open a shop in a location doomed to fail.
Someone who could spend freely at the pleasure halls and taverns, indulging in wine and luxury.
Someone who could waste a fortune on a legendary sword they would never use.
By contrast, most could only spend their remaining money—
Maybe on a bottle of alcohol to sip at the tavern while listening to the exaggerated boasts of young pirates, reminiscing about their past glories before licking the last drop from the glass.
Or they might head to the vibrant pleasure district, exchanging their dwindling savings for the familiar, fleeting spark of admiration—even if it was fake, built on money.
Until their last coin was gone.
And then? They'd wait for death or struggle on a bit longer.
Why did pirates, who shared the same sea, meet such vastly different fates?
Maude knew the answer well.
Power. The power to take control of one's destiny.
To live freely and abundantly, one needed the strength to bend the will of others.
In a world like this, that truth was especially evident.
Otherwise, one could easily end up like the wretches blocking Maude's path now.
He raised his gaze, looking at the pirates ahead of him—crippled men missing arms and legs, wielding rusted, chipped blades.
His eyes swept over their alcohol-ravaged bodies and met their malice-filled stares, void of vitality.
Silently, Maude drew his dagger.
A few more alleyways, and he'd be out of this district.
Even as the pirates accosted him, Maude's thoughts lingered on the distance left to leave this place behind.
But before he could act, he overheard their conversation.
"The gut… that's mine."
"I—I'll take everything below the knees."
"Fine. The rest is yours."
It wasn't often they encountered such a young, pale-skinned target in this district.
The last dregs of these pirates' humanity trembled with excitement as they spoke, their voices shaking slightly.
A mere dagger? What threat could it pose?
Had they not already pawned their flintlock pistols for more drink, one shot would've ended this effortlessly.
With their future compressed to the brink of oblivion, their minds were consumed by darkness.
Nothing mattered anymore.
All they wanted was one last taste of a full meal.
One last gulp of liquor, sliding smoothly down their throats.
Their impatience surged as they finalized the "division of spoils" and raised their blades to strike Maude.
For a fleeting moment, they pictured a future rekindled—
Even if just for a single day.
But the "prey" before them suddenly vanished.
Before their thoughts could catch up, a cold sensation blossomed somewhere on their bodies.
Were they… cut?
They collapsed, blood seeping from their wounds.
They had overestimated themselves and underestimated Maude's danger.
Realizing their hopes were shattered and death was imminent, they howled in despair.
Maude stepped past the fallen pirates without breaking stride.
To avoid being splattered by blood, he had deliberately avoided critical arteries, ensuring their slow and agonizing deaths instead.
Ignoring their anguished wails behind him, Maude rounded a corner and pressed forward.
This minor episode was nothing more than a reflection of the greater truths of the pirate world.
Even within these shadows, beams of light occasionally pierced through, yet under the influence of the Great Pirate Era, most people chose to confront the inevitable darkness.
Before he could fully embrace this world, Maude knew what he had to do.
To gain a foothold, one must first stand firm.
Becoming stronger was the path Maude was relentlessly pursuing.
After navigating several twisted alleys, Maude finally exited the residential district and stepped onto a wide, sunlit street.
The ever-present stench and oppressive air were replaced by the vibrant warmth of daylight.
Pirates armed to the teeth bustled about, filling the streets with noise and activity.
After the recent auction, most of the pirates drawn to the town showed no rush to leave.
Rest and revelry were often more important than setting sail.
Besides, they could easily imagine the navy's warships prowling the outer waters, casting nets to catch stray prey.
Though the navy couldn't directly interfere with Mad Hat Town, fishing for small fry just outside its borders was fair game.
Experienced pirates naturally sought to avoid such risks.
Maude mingled with the crowd, his gaze casually scanning the pirates passing by.
Most were burly men, though there were a few women among them—each as massive as a bear.
By comparison, the barmaids in the taverns were practically angels.
"Guess I'll head to a tavern."
With plans to return to the weapons shop by dusk, Maude had little time to waste exploring.
Last night, the cover of darkness had allowed him to leap between rooftops, bypassing the issue of unfamiliar terrain.
Today, it was different. Strolling the streets in broad daylight, finding last night's tavern would've been a challenge anyway.
Not that he intended to go back there.
Mad Hat Town had no shortage of taverns, one on nearly every block, varying only in size.
As he moved through the streets, Maude slowed his pace whenever he spotted a tavern.
He passed by the smaller ones.
The larger ones with sparse patrons didn't interest him either.
Thus, he kept searching, covering nearly a mile before finding a sizeable tavern bustling with customers.
The Battleaxe Tavern.
Maude glanced up at the sign, where two bloodied axes crossed beneath a bottle. Pushing open the door, he stepped inside.
Roughly thirty minutes later, a well-groomed Wolfrat arrived at the Battleaxe Tavern's entrance.
Standing before the door, Wolfrat pulled out a small mirror to check his reflection.
Admiring the "devastatingly handsome" face staring back, he muttered, "Totally worth the hour-long bath."
He then attempted to plaster a friendly, approachable smile onto his face.
"With this charm and this warmth, making friends will be a breeze!"
Satisfied, Wolfrat tucked the mirror away, pushed open the tavern door, and walked in, oblivious to the odd looks a few pirates cast in his direction.
"What a creepy guy," one pirate muttered, perfectly summarizing the impression left by Wolfrat's grin.
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