Fifteen minutes before the agreed time, Maude had already arrived at the Nightshade Bar.
When he stepped into the bar, Wolfrat was fully prepared.
Seeing Maude armed to the teeth, Wolfrat suddenly felt an urge to strap on some weapons himself.
"Ready to move?"
Maude asked.
Wolfrat nodded and rose from his seat.
Behind the counter, Tatamu removed his bartender uniform, revealing a physique that could only be described as eye-catching.
[TL/N: Tatam changed to Tatamu.]
He slipped on a black short-sleeved shirt before stepping out from behind the counter.
"Tatamu?"
Maude looked at him in confusion.
Noticing Maude's puzzled expression, Wolfrat explained, "It was my idea. With Tatamu around, I can focus on drawing fire. Of course, his help doesn't come for free."
"Got it."
Maude glanced at Tatamu's rock-solid muscles, thinking to himself that Tatamu's mastery of physical combat must be formidable.
It was surprising to find individuals like Wolfrat and Tatamu in such an unassuming bar.
By contrast, the bustling streets outside were full of loud, flamboyant pirates, most of whom lacked real strength.
The comparison made Wolfrat and Tatamu seem more like shadowy figures of the underworld, reserved and composed.
In truth, Wolfrat hadn't initially planned to hire Tatamu, especially since it meant running up another tab.
But thanks to Maude's scheming, Wolfrat was now a bundle of nerves. Having Tatamu as backup provided him some peace of mind.
The midnight alleys were eerily silent, save for the occasional sound of rats scurrying by.
The trio left the Nightshade Bar, traversing the alleyways toward the harbor.
It was customary for any pirate crew arriving in Mad Hat Town to leave a detachment behind to guard their ship.
That was just the norm.
Despite being severely injured at the Battleaxe Tavern, Abby hadn't returned to her ship. Instead, she chose to recuperate at the town's largest inn.
Even under these circumstances, she split her forces into two groups—an oversight that hinted at flaws in her personality.
By comparison, Kazte, who stayed aboard his ship to heal, appeared far more prudent.
Until his wounds were fully healed, Kazte concentrated all his forces on fortifying the ship's defenses.
Aboard the Redhorn Pirates' ship, in the captain's quarters.
The room was brightly lit. Kazte lay on the bed, his expression cold and stern.
His body was almost entirely wrapped in white bandages.
A pile of medicine jars cluttered the bedside table, and the pungent smell of medicine filled the air.
The battle that day had been brutal. Abby's Rapid Sword overwhelmed Kazte, leaving his lower body riddled with bloody holes, not to mention the damage inflicted on his upper body.
For an ordinary person, even a few of those wounds would have been fatal.
But Kazte, relying on his Devil Fruit abilities, withstood Abby's relentless attacks and seized an opening to deliver a single Black Hoof strike, incapacitating Abby instantly.
However, the effort left him critically injured from blood loss.
The evenly matched and mutually destructive battle had been witnessed by some thrill-seeking pirates who happened to be nearby.
Compared to Kazte, who had been left battered and bloodied by Abby's rapier, the young man named Usopp who had dodged Abby's storm of thrusts and even slapped her across the face became a point of intrigue.
It was a case of contrast making the difference.
As a result, Usopp's name began circulating among the onlookers and beyond.
In pirate circles, new rising stars often became hot topics of discussion over drinks.
For instance, the up-and-coming pirate Ace had recently made headlines and was now the talk of every tavern.
Pirates loved to tear down one figure to elevate another, and Usopp's clash with Abby and Kazte became the perfect fodder for this pastime.
Drunken revelers freely mocked Abby and Kazte, both established names, while hyping Usopp's reputation to new heights.
This behavior, aside from reflecting the strength-centered values of pirates, also fulfilled a certain psychological need.
As for whether Usopp would eventually fall from grace, it wasn't their concern.
Kazte, having once risen by stepping over veteran pirates himself, was no stranger to such trends.
Yet having his reputation dragged through the mud still left him seething.
Because of Kazte's foul mood, the Redhorn crew treaded carefully around him.
One of the officers, Wells, bore the responsibility of reporting updates and thus was the only one besides the ship's doctor who interacted with Kazte during this time.
Wells entered the captain's quarters, walking to the bedside under Kazte's frosty gaze.
"Anything to report?" Kazte asked coldly.
"Since we intensified patrols, the number of scouts sent by other pirate crews has noticeably decreased. We've also pinpointed most of their positions. Shall we..."
Wells made a throat-slitting gesture.
Kazte's expression remained icy. "No need, but if they cross the line, show no mercy."
"Understood."
Wells nodded, giving his report before quickly leaving to resume his duties.
Kazte stared coldly at the closed door, letting out a sharp snort.
The raid on the Platinum Guild merchant vessel had brought Kazte considerable fame and profit.
However, it also attracted envious rivals.
Platinum Guild was a renowned trading guild in the West Blue, and looting even one shipment yielded over a hundred million berries.
When Kazte was unscathed, those rivals could only grumble in jealousy.
Now that he was injured, they swarmed like hyenas drawn to the scent of blood.
Still, even a weakened beast like the Redhorn Pirates retained a measure of deterrence—a testament to the power of a high-bounty crew.
From the shadows atop a warehouse, Maude and his companions observed the Redhorn ship anchored at the harbor.
From this vantage point, they could just make out the crew patrolling the deck, covering every corner with a tight defensive formation.
After a while, Wolfrat spoke in a hushed, serious tone. "Their defenses are tight. How do we proceed?"
Maude didn't respond immediately. His sharp eyes scanned the patrol routes and calculated the distance between their position and the ship.
Fixing his gaze on the billowing pirate flag, Maude finally said, "Take a shot."
"What?" Wolfrat looked at Maude in confusion.
Maude unslung his long rifle and steadied it, aiming at the Redhorn's deck.
Wolfrat immediately understood Maude's intention.
He knew Maude was a skilled marksman, but this range exceeded the effective distance of a smoothbore rifle. Without external enhancements, accuracy would plummet.
Attempting such a long-range strike seemed reckless, risking exposure without gaining any advantage.
Even so, Wolfrat didn't voice his doubts.
Tatamu glanced at Maude's rifle. Despite its modified, extended barrel, he doubted it could achieve anything at this range.
"That's too far," Tatamu remarked.
"It's within range," Maude replied calmly, adjusting his aim. "An elder once told me—blind confidence isn't entirely a bad thing for a marksman."
Factoring in the wind direction and elevation, Maude waited until an instinctive certainty settled over him.
Then, he pulled the trigger.
The lead bullet sliced through the night air, covering nearly 150 meters before striking its target—a Redhorn crew member walking the deck.
A clean headshot.
The crewman crumpled silently to the ground.
The sudden gunshot sent the rest of the crew into high alert, their eyes scanning the darkness in the direction of the sound.
But there was nothing to be seen.
Wells, the ship's sniper, immediately shouted, "Take cover, now!"
Back on the warehouse rooftop, Tatamu and Wolfrat were stunned.
After a moment, Tatamu spoke with genuine admiration. "Impressive."
Wolfrat remained silent, his expression pensive.
He understood all too well the value of a skilled sniper in ship-to-ship battles.
The problem was that such sharpshooters often hailed from pirate backgrounds...
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