A group of Marines disembarked from the warship, their polished boots clicking against the dock. At their lead strode a man with the epaulettes of a Marine Major, his nose held so high he might as well have been staring at the clouds. For a second, Kenzo almost mistook him for the legendary hero Vice Admiral Garp—until the man opened his mouth.
"Major Funk, the one with the massive hammer on his back—that's Kanzaki Kenzo," a Marine Captain whispered, pointing toward Kenzo.
Major Funk spared him a glance, then curled his lip in disdain. "This guy got rocks for brains or what? Who the hell carries around a broken hammer wrapped in leather like some kinda treasure?"
The surrounding Marines burst into laughter. "Hah! Looks like a damn country hick!" one of them sneered.
Funk swaggered forward, shoving aside a few nobles who tried to bow and scrape their way into his good graces. He stopped in front of Kenzo, tilting his head back to meet the man's gaze—Kenzo stood a full head taller. That only seemed to piss Funk off more.
"You," Funk barked, voice dripping with impatience, "you're this 'Kanzaki Kenzo' punk?"
Kenzo grinned, the picture of innocence. "That's right, sir. Kanzaki Kenzo, at your service."
"I heard you took down that Foxhunter Sparky. Where's the proof? If it's legit, kid, you're sitting on a fat stack of Beri." Funk's smirk was oily, his eyes already calculating.
Kenzo motioned to one of his men, who stepped forward with a wooden box. "Right here," Kenzo said, flipping the lid open. Inside lay a severed head, preserved but still gruesome.
Funk wrinkled his nose in disgust, but a flicker of greed flashed in his eyes. *Foxhunter Sparky's head?* For a second, he'd worried these backwater morons had misidentified some poor schmuck. But no—this was the real deal.
Then, like flipping a switch, Funk's face twisted into outrage. "You damn swindlers! This isn't Foxhunter Sparky! You trying to scam the Marines?!"
The nobles nearby gasped, shifting uneasily. Kenzo's expression darkened. "Excuse me, *sir*? Care to repeat that?"
Funk jabbed a finger at the box. "This is some nobody! You think we're stupid? Sparky was a crafty bastard—no way a bunch of hicks like you took him down!"
Kenzo's jaw clenched. He knew damn well what was happening. The Marines wanted to pocket the bounty—29 million Beri—and leave him with nothing. The nobles, sensing the shift, stayed silent. A few even turned on Kenzo, eager to curry favor with the Marines.
But the garrison soldiers? Their faces burned with fury. They'd fought and bled for that bounty. Men had *died*. And now the Marines were stealing it right from their hands.
Kenzo's fingers twitched toward the massive hammer strapped to his back. One swing. That's all it'd take to paint the dock with Funk's brains.
Before he could move, Benn Beckman's hand clamped around his wrist. The older man shot him a warning glance, then turned to Funk with an easy smile. "A fake, huh? Guess we got played. Good thing you Marines are so sharp—we'd have looked like real idiots otherwise."
Funk preened. "Damn right. At least *someone* here's got sense." He jerked his chin at the box. "We're confiscating this. Can't have you morons causing trouble with fake bounties."
The Marine Captain moved to grab it, but Kenzo's man hesitated, eyes locked on his leader. Kenzo exhaled hard, then gave a stiff nod. The box was handed over.
Without another word, the Marines turned and marched back to their ship, the bounty in tow. The nobles scattered like roaches, a few tossing mocking glances Kenzo's way.
Once they were alone, Kenzo rounded on Beckman. "The hell was that? I could've crushed that bastard's skull!"
Beckman lit a cigarette, unfazed. "And then what? You think they've got 29 million Beri sitting on that ship?"
Kenzo scowled. "So we just let them walk?"
Beckman smirked. "Let 'em enjoy their victory for a couple days. Then, when we're ready… we hit their base. Take it all back—plus interest."
Kenzo blinked, then let out a sharp laugh. "You cold bastard. I just wanted to kill one guy. You're talking about wiping out a whole Marine base?"
Beckman exhaled smoke. "Saw it with my own eyes today. The North Sea Marines are rotten. Break their morale, take out the officers, and the rest'll fold like wet paper." He eyed Kenzo. "You think you can handle that?"
Kenzo's grin turned feral. "Who the hell do you think I am? I'll smash every last one of 'em!"
"Good. But first," Beckman said, flicking his cigarette away, "we squeeze these useless nobles dry. They owe us."