Using the excuse of needing the restroom, Maude secured a moment of privacy, locking the door behind him.
[Hunter's Note]
The notebook materialized instantly, substantial and dark as polished jet, hovering silently in the air. On its spine, the inkless quill trembled faintly, its black feathers seeming to await Maude's touch. When he'd first designed this Nen ability, Maude had envisioned a modern pen, but realizing the added complexity that would entail during development, he'd settled for the simpler, albeit less convenient, structure of a quill.
He plucked the quill from the spine. Without hesitation, Maude focused his intent, writing the single word 'Physique' in familiar characters onto the first blank silver line etched on the cover.
Physique was the absolute priority. There was no need for deliberation. Only by strengthening this frail body could he hope to survive, let alone pursue greater power. In the world of One Piece, a resilient physique was the bedrock upon which true strength was built. The monstrous endurance of beings like Charlotte Linlin or Kaido was currently unthinkable, galaxies beyond his reach, but the foundation had to be laid.
Requirement set, Maude opened the notebook to its first page.
Blank. Snow white.
For a fleeting moment, a phantom image ghosted over the page – dense lines of crooked, ugly handwriting, the record of his past life's hunts. Then, just as quickly, it vanished.
Maude paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Starting over..." he murmured softly. It felt like having his main character account wiped clean, forcing him to start fresh on a new server with a level-one character. Still, the advantages he possessed – his knowledge, his Nen ability– were very real.
Shaking off the momentary reflection, Maude focused. Visualizing Evan Watt's face, he quickly inscribed the man's relevant information onto the page.
[Evan Watt]
[Proficient with blades]
The information, gleaned solely from Sunny's brief introduction, was pitifully sparse. Still, even mosquito legs were meat. Given the pathetic state of his current body, even the minuscule gains from such a low-level target might produce a noticeable, immediate effect.
Task complete, Maude closed the Hunter's Note, the satisfaction grim but undeniable. He dismissed the notebook.
'Thank you for your contribution, Evan Watt', Maude thought, a sliver of cold acknowledgment passing through him. And thank you, Kidd, for conveniently delivering him.
Maude caught his reflection in the small, grimy mirror above the sink. He raised a finger, pressing gently against the blood-stained bandage on his forehead. Pain flared instantly. If the Hunter's Note worked as expected, the healing rate of this wound should change significantly after the hunt was complete. His only regret was that Watt wasn't known for his exceptional physical prowess.
"Time to finish this."
Picking up the small knife Sol had given him, Maude unlocked the door and stepped back into the shop.
Sol and Sunny waited, their expressions unreadable. Only a few minutes had passed.
Maude walked directly to the unconscious Evan Watt. Under the watchful eyes of the other two, he showed no hesitation. He knelt, gripping the knife tightly, and plunged it forcefully into Watt's chest, aiming for the heart.
Puff—
Blood sprayed, warm and wet against Maude's hand. Awkwardly, the knife only sank halfway, the resistance jarring his already weak grip. He almost lost hold of the handle.
Sol's brow furrowed slightly. Sunny's gaze remained impassive.
Dammit, Maude cursed inwardly. The sheer toughness of bodies in this world, even seemingly average ones, was something he'd have to constantly factor in. And this current body… it was pathetic.
No time for frustration. Maude wrenched the knife free and stabbed again, then again, ensuring Watt died quickly, clinically, still lost in unconsciousness. The physical act was clumsy, a stark reminder of his current weakness, but the mental process was cold, detached, almost routine.
After all, Maude wasn't new to ending lives. The phantom pages of his Hunter's Note had once held nearly a thousand names. Many of those entries came from a period in his previous life where he'd secured a position within an execution facility, leveraging his access to personally carry out the sentences of condemned criminals. Those gains had been easily, almost passively, acquired. In this world, the closest equivalent he could imagine was the great prison, Impel Down. Though, ironically, the authorities here seemed less inclined towards executions, preferring indefinite imprisonment even for the most heinous offenders.
Maude released the knife's handle, letting it clatter softly on the floorboards. He rose and closed his eyes.
In the internal darkness, the Hunter's Note manifested, suspended and silent. A soft halo bloomed around its edges, like the corona during a total solar eclipse. This light rapidly seeped into the notebook's surface. Immediately, a single, faint white star materialized on the black cover. Then, the light faded, returning his inner vision to darkness.
Almost instantly, a faint flush of color touched Maude's pale cheeks. He opened his eyes. The throbbing pain in his forehead had dulled to a slight itch. The bone-deep exhaustion that had plagued him, the feeling that a stiff breeze could knock him over, had noticeably lessened.
These subtle shifts were the direct result of fulfilling the 'Physique' requirement. Obvious changes – increased muscle mass, heightened toughness – were too much to expect from a target like Watt, especially with such minimal preparation data.
But that didn't matter. What mattered was the undeniable truth: The Hunter's Note worked!
A spark ignited in Maude's eyes, a fierce, contained energy.
Sol and Sunny observed the entire process – the killing blow, the subsequent flicker of reaction in Maude's expression. They interpreted it through their own lens. Business owners often harbored deep resentment towards pirates who plundered relentlessly. Given Maude's history – his family slaughtered, his life destroyed by pirates – it seemed perfectly natural for him to vent his hatred on Watt, perhaps achieving some measure of catharsis.
Still, Sol didn't want his potential future workhorse spiraling into obsession. He stepped forward, retrieved the knife from the floor, and casually wiped the blood clean on Watt's clothes.
"You look rather intense there, boy," Sol commented mildly. "I told you to bid farewell to the past, yes, but don't get yourself stuck in a rut of vengeance."
"Understood," Maude replied, lowering his gaze respectfully. He knew Sol was misinterpreting his reaction, but offering an explanation was pointless, even dangerous. His current priority was to gain Sol's trust, stick close to the old man, and integrate himself into the dangerous ecosystem of Mad Hatter Town as quickly as possible.
Sol glanced at Maude's blood-spattered hand. "Go wash up." He then turned to Sunny. "Little Nini, go fetch Arthur. Time to collect the body."
"Right." Sunny nodded and headed out.
Maude returned to the restroom. He turned on the faucet, the cold water rinsing the sticky blood from his hand. Once clean, he dried his hands and looked again at his reflection. Tentatively, he pressed the bandage on his forehead.
The sharp pain from minutes ago was gone, replaced by a dull ache.
The results were undeniably gratifying, amplified perhaps by the sheer weakness of his starting point. He wondered how many hunts it would take, how many lives processed through the Hunter's Note, to achieve a level of regeneration comparable to someone like Luffy.
"Haaa..." Maude let out a slow breath, deliberately relaxing his tense muscles. The successful first hunt provided a crucial sliver of confidence. The path ahead remained perilous, the next hunting target uncertain, but he had taken the first step.
"Mad Hatter Town..." he mused. "Dangerous, yes. But from another perspective... it's an excellent hunting ground."
One step at a time.
He splashed cold water on his face, the shock momentarily grounding him. Wiping his face dry, he resisted the urge to peel off the bandage and inspect the wound. He walked back out into the shop.
A new figure stood inside. A sturdy man dressed in practical work clothes, almost like a uniform. A black armband on his left arm bore the stark white character for "Death." His face was obscured by a white mask that covered everything but his eyes and the lower half of his mouth. This, Maude surmised, must be Arthur, the 'undertaker' Sunny had gone to fetch.
Arthur was examining Watt's corpse. Hearing Maude's footsteps, he looked up, a hint of surprise flickering in his visible eyes.
"Oh," Arthur's voice was muffled by the mask. "So you actually woke up."