The moment Arlan spoke, the man known as Flying Shot—Copra froze. His previously blank expression turned icy, and a piercing chill flashed through his indifferent eyes. The air itself seemed to drop several degrees in temperature.
Even Aeridar couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath. That's some serious killing intent...!
Without a word, Copra took a step forward and lunged, his hand shooting toward Arlan's throat in a claw-like grab.
Caught off guard, Arlan hadn't expected the other man to attack so suddenly or so viciously. But he didn't flinch. Instead, he lashed out with a sharp kick aimed at Copra's gut.
Seeing Arlan react so quickly, a flicker of surprise passed through Copra's eyes. Legs have more reach than arms—if I press the attack now, I'll get hit first.
Instantly, he shifted his claw into a fist and slammed it down to intercept Arlan's kick.
The air fell still for a split second—then erupted into a shockwave that blasted outward from the two of them, sending dust spiraling through the room. Several of Copra's nearby subordinates staggered back from the force, coughing violently as dust choked the air.
"You son of a bitch, you're really attacking?!" Arlan's voice was dark with shock and fury as his leg pressed against the fist that stopped it mid-strike.
"I'm a pirate. When I see something I want, I take it." Copra finally spoke, his voice hoarse but deadpan.
"Bastard!" Arlan growled, enraged. This guy was seriously arrogant—attacking without warning, killing intent blazing. He was more savage than they were.
"You want our room, don't you?" Aeridar stood, a lazy smirk on his face as if he didn't take Copra seriously. "Too bad—we're pirates too. If you want to steal from us, you better make sure your fists are bigger."
"We're all pirates here," Copra muttered, eyes narrowing. "I'll kill him first, then come for you." He pointed to Arlan, then jabbed a finger toward Aeridar.
"Cocky bastard," Arlan sneered. With a powerful push of his leg, he shoved Copra straight out the door.
Copra hadn't expected that kind of raw strength. The sudden force knocked him back several steps, and his crewmates, seeing their captain forced back, quickly scrambled to either side, too stunned to intervene.
Arlan ran a hand through his tousled blue hair, then strode out the door, facing off with Copra from three paces away.
"Not bad," Copra finally said. "I'm Copra, captain of the Flying Shot Pirates."
"You're not too bad yourself," Arlan replied coolly. "I'm Gilbert Arlan—First Mate of the Chris Pirates. Let's see how my new power holds up against you."
Copra's pupils contracted. New power? Don't tell me... he's a Devil Fruit user too?!
The surrounding Flying Shot pirates immediately backed away, creating a makeshift ring for the two to fight.
"Die!" Arlan suddenly shouted, launching a sweeping roundhouse kick.
The kick came fast and fierce. Alarmed, Copra barely had time to cross his arms and block above his head.
A massive explosion erupted between them, flames and smoke engulfing the pair in a deafening blast.
"What the hell was that explosion?!"
"He's gotta be fine—he's a notorious pirate!"
The sudden explosion sent the Flying Shot crew into a panic. The sheer power of it shocked them—this wasn't a normal clash.
A dark figure stumbled out of the smoke, arms crossed, clothes torn and blood running down his forearms. Though blackened by soot, the ebony case on his back and his silhouette made it clear—it was Copra.
"Khh!" Copra coughed out a stream of black smoke, wiping his face and snarling, "You're a Devil Fruit user!"
"Oho? You figured it out." Arlan nodded without a hint of guilt. "Yeah. I ate the Bomb-Bomb Fruit."
Yes, the very same Bomb-Bomb Fruit. Originally seen in canon as the power of Mr. 5, a high-ranking agent of Baroque Works — that guy with the explosive boogers and a rockstar look that fooled no one.
What most people didn't realize was how terrifying the Bomb-Bomb Fruit truly was. The user's body could detonate any part of itself without taking any damage. Even a sneeze or a puff of breath could become a deadly weapon. Compared to Gladius from the Donquixote Pirates and his Pop-Pop Fruit, this was on another level entirely.
Back in his past life, Aeridar had always thought this fruit was criminally underrated — wasted on a joke of a villain. In the hands of someone serious, say one of Whitebeard's commanders, it would've been devastating.
So when the Chris Pirates took down the Crimson Man-Eating Flower, they discovered a Devil Fruit locked away in the Fat Bear Elver's captain's quarters. They had no idea how Nisaro Elver got his hands on it — but when Aeridar saw it was the Bomb-Bomb Fruit, he didn't hesitate.
If he hadn't already eaten the Impact-Impact Fruit, he'd have taken it himself. But giving it to his brother, Arlan? No regrets.
The only issue? Arlan had only eaten the fruit a few days ago — and his control was still... unstable. He'd randomly blow things up when he sighed too hard, or worse — during sleep. No one dared bunk with him anymore for fear of being blown halfway to hell.
Oliver and the others had already beaten him up several times over it. But right now?
Right now, that power was proving its worth.
Gasps rippled through the Flying Shot crew.
"The Bomb-Bomb Fruit?!"
"Run for it—he's gonna explode again!"
"We'll get blown to bits if we stay!"
In a blink, the pirates scattered in every direction like panicked birds, diving for cover.
"Idiots..." Copra's brow twitched as he watched his men flee in disgrace. A black vein bulged on his forehead. He looked like he wanted to strangle every last one of them.
Aeridar chuckled from the doorway, shaking his head. "Man, they really do scatter like pigeons."
Copra's eyes narrowed, the amusement gone. "A Paramecia-type Bomb-Bomb Fruit... Quite the powerful Devil Fruit."
He slowly reached for the ebony case on his back. With a click, it opened—and from within, he pulled a gleaming short-barreled rifle over a meter long.
His muscles rippled, and his shirt tore open as two massive wings burst from his back—black-brown feathers spreading wide, kicking up a violent gust. Each wing spanned over two meters.
"...A Zoan-type?!" Arlan's relaxed expression finally tightened, unease flickering in his eyes as he instinctively took a step back.
Aeridar's jaw dropped. "Wha—? Birdman?!"
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