Along the coast of Dressrosa, there was an abandoned warehouse.
Inside it, a crowd of over twenty men had gathered—each one armed to the teeth, either with massive blades slung across their backs or flintlocks at their waists.
They laughed, cursed, gambled, drank, and bragged loudly…
And yet, this group of over twenty was only a portion of the full human trafficking ring. Altogether, the gang had over fifty members and operated with near impunity across the seas surrounding Dressrosa.
Their most notorious figure was none other than their leader—the man nicknamed "Evil Shark," Turwindis!
With a bounty of 36 million Berries, Turwindis was a fairly well-known figure among the pirates and traffickers of the region.
"Damn it! Lost again!"
One of the traffickers slammed the table in frustration, having lost another round of dice.
His eyes drifted toward the girls huddled in the corner—bound tightly with rope and tape across their mouths.
They were all young women, no older than their late teens. Their eyes were full of terror as they clung together in the corner, sobbing until their faces were red and swollen.
"It's your fault, isn't it?!"
"You cursed me! That's why I'm losing money!"
"You witches rigged it from the shadows!"
Without another word, the trafficker stormed over and slapped one of the girls hard across the face, then began viciously kicking and punching them—venting all his gambling rage on their helpless bodies.
"Hey! Beat them if you want, but don't kill them. If we lose a girl, the boss will rip your head off."
One of the other traffickers reminded him casually, not even bothering to look up.
Just then, the drunken trafficker from the tavern—Savey—staggered through the warehouse door.
"Savey, you're finally back! Come on! My luck's hot tonight—I'll win all your cash this time!"
"Gambling's boring… hic… I wanna drink! You guys drink too—drinking's way more fun!"
Still drunk, Savey's eyes shifted toward the girls being beaten in the corner.
He pushed the beating trafficker aside. "You're going too hard. I just had a drink, and now I wanna take one of the girls and have a little fun. Let me pick one before you beat them into a pulp—what's the point if they look like pigs?"
"Fine, pick whoever you want."
The man stepped back.
Savey scanned the girls until his eyes landed on a particular one.
She wore a simple athletic outfit, had short pink hair, and looked to be only twelve or thirteen years old. Her beauty was delicate—like a porcelain doll.
Her wide, teary eyes were filled with terror as she shook her head in pure panic.
"Still young, but I've never tried anything before… wonder how she tastes?"
Savey grinned pervertedly and stepped forward, reaching out toward her.
Suddenly, the old warehouse door creaked open, echoing loudly. Everyone turned instinctively.
Standing in the entrance was a teenage boy—no older than fifteen.
But unlike ordinary kids, something about his face struck a strange chord of familiarity. None of them could quite place it—but the way he looked at them wasn't normal.
It wasn't like he was seeing people.
It was like he was seeing prey.
The boy, of course, was none other than Lance.
"Garbage like you never does anything useful… But you sure know how to entertain yourselves."
"Where'd this brat come from? Talking big, huh? You must have a death wish."
Everyone immediately dropped what they were doing, drawing either blades or guns. They glared at Lance with hostile intent.
Normally, being stared down by so many vicious killers would be enough to make a grown man piss himself.
But to Lance, they were nothing but trash…
Trash he could use to grow stronger.
"Enough barking, you bottom-feeders. Send out your boss. Now."
Lance's tone was flat and cold.
"Damn punk… Looks like your parents never taught you manners. Don't worry, I'll help you understand how to talk to your elders."
A massive thug nearest to Lance cracked his knuckles and stomped forward.
The guy was easily twice Lance's size—towering over him like a wall.
Without warning, Lance's eyes sharpened. He focused on the thug's gut—and drove a brutal punch straight into it!
The thug's eyes bulged. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as searing pain surged through him, dropping to his knees in front of Lance.
"That's all the strength you've got? Pathetic…"
"I'll give your parents some credit—let me teach you how to speak to someone stronger."
"Lesson one: You look up to power. Understand?"
Lance's voice was calm, cold.
"He dropped Big Guy with a single punch?!"
"This kid's got skills!"
"Who cares? Kill him!"
Three more charged in, ignoring the warning signs.
Lance's eyes narrowed. He lifted his leg and slammed his foot into Big Guy's face—sending the massive man flying like a ragdoll.
In midair, the thug crashed into the three charging men, slamming all of them into the warehouse wall with a deafening BOOM that echoed through the abandoned space.
Lance slowly retracted his leg.
With all the strength he had gained from devouring so many people, a single kick from him now carried unimaginable force.
That thug looked intimidating—but to Lance, he was just another weak piece of garbage waiting to be crushed.
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