Fifth Zone, Mirage, Desert Island
This place was a golden hell scorched by the blazing sun.
The searing sand distorted the air, creating dizzying mirages.
There was no water, no trees, only endless dunes and deadly venomous scorpions hidden beneath the sand.
And right in the middle of this desert that could practically roast a person alive, a figure was sprinting along the ridge of a massive sand dune… with a strangely light and carefree stride.
He looked to be in his early twenties.
He wore a messy blond wig, had two crooked fake mustaches stuck to his face, and sported a flashy pair of pink sunglasses.
But the most unbearable thing was his outfit, a loud beach shirt covered in red-and-green palm tree prints, loose leopard-print shorts, and a pair of flip-flops.
If you ignored the setting, you'd think he was some low-tier tourist heading to the Sabaody Archipelago for vacation.
"Whew… this damn place is really hot."
The young man stopped, adjusted his crooked fake mustache, then weighed the heavy cloth sack in his hand.
It clinked with metallic sounds.
"Three already."
The young man, none other than the Revolutionary Army's Chief of Staff, Sabo, in "carefully" crafted disguise, looked at the bag with a helpless expression.
"I'd heard G-5 was filthy rich, but I didn't expect this…"
He pulled out a [Renzo Gold Token].
Not only was it made of pure gold, but it was also inlaid with a ring of small diamonds!
Just this one token alone could probably cover half a year's food expenses for a Revolutionary Army base.
"That guy called Renzo… just how much wealth has he squeezed out of people?"
Sabo sighed, his expression turning serious.
This time, he had infiltrated G-5 under the alias "Sassy," carrying Dragon's highest orders.
First, investigate the abnormal source of G-5's funds and its massive military expansion. A marine branch possessing such terrifying wealth and independence was a huge variable for the Revolutionary Army.
Second, and most crucial, obtain the Dark-Dark Fruit.
That extremely dangerous fruit, capable of shaking the world, must never fall into the hands of an ambitious schemer… or a subordinate of that strangely lazy admiral.
"I have to win the championship… then find a chance to escape with the fruit."
Sabo stuffed the token back into the bag and prepared to move on.
Suddenly, his Observation Haki stirred.
"Oh? Looks like my luck's too good. I've been spotted again."
He smirked playfully and turned toward the base of the dune.
A cloud of dust was rising.
More than a dozen modified desert off-road motorcycles roared toward him, engines howling.
Each bike carried a shirtless, tattooed brute.
"Hahaha! Found him! That idiot in the floral shirt!"
The bald leader, riding the largest bike and wielding a spiked club, laughed wildly.
"Surround him! The drone broadcast said he's got three gold tokens! That's three tickets!!"
They were the "Sandstorm Gang," bandits who preyed on merchant caravans in the New World, now here for the billion prize money.
"Hey! You, Sassy!"
The bald man skidded to a stop ten meters away, pointing his club at Sabo.
"Hand over that bag! And take off that ugly outfit! Oh, and those sunglasses look hella expensive, too. Leave them!"
Sabo pushed up his pink shades and spread his hands innocently.
"Come on, guys, I worked hard to pick these up. And… are these clothes really that ugly? I got them at a flea market, limited edition! The seller said they had 'admiral-level style.'"
"Cut the crap! You wanna die?!"
The bald man twisted the throttle.
"Run him over!!"
VROOOOM!!
The motorcycles charged like steel beasts, kicking up a storm of sand as they crashed toward Sabo from all directions!
Desert Battlefield
Facing the incoming swarm, Sabo didn't panic at all.
"Tsk, how rude."
Just as the first motorcycle was about to hit him, his figure flickered.
No, he didn't move normally.
It was a bizarre sidestep that seemed to defy physics.
Whoosh!
The bike grazed past his floral shirt.
At the same time, his finger lightly tapped the rider's wrist.
Crack.
The sound of a joint dislocating.
"AH!"
The rider lost control, flipping the bike and crashing into two others behind him.
Boom! Boom!
"What?!"
The bald leader's eyes widened. "This guy's weird! Stop the bikes, get off, and chop him!"
The remaining thugs jumped off, drawing machetes and axes, charging forward with wild cries.
"Now that's more like it."
Sabo rolled his wrist casually, still smiling.
He couldn't use Dragon Claw, that was his signature. If exposed, the world would know the Revolutionary Army's second-in-command had infiltrated G-5.
So… "Guess I'll have to use my self-created 'Sabo-style Salted Fish Fist.'"
His eyes sharpened.
A machete swung toward him, he stepped forward instead of back, raising his hand like he was swatting a fly.
But the palm was coated in a faint layer of Armament Haki.
SMACK!
The steel blade shattered instantly.
His palm continued forward, striking the thug's chest.
PFF!
The man flew over ten meters, crashing into the sand.
"What kind of strength is that?!"
The rest froze in shock.
"Don't be scared! He's only got two hands, attack together!"
The bald leader roared, charging with his club.
"Tsk, ganging up on me?"
Sabo kicked up sand, blinding them.
Then, he vanished into the crowd like a ghost.
"Salted Fish Tail Kick!"
BAM! Two men flew away.
"Salted Fish Flip!"
SWISH! Three blades missed.
"Salted Fish Thrust!"
"AHH! My arm's numb!!"
In less than thirty seconds, the once-ferocious Sandstorm Gang was completely wiped out.
All of them were on the ground, groaning or writhing.
Only the bald leader remained, trembling, drenched in sweat.
"You… what are you…?"
He stared at Sabo in horror.
This wasn't a martial artist; this was a monster in a floral shirt.
"Me?"
Sabo adjusted his sunglasses, flashing a bright grin.
"I'm just a passing contestant… with slightly better luck… who likes floral shirts."
He glanced at the bulging pouch at the man's waist.
"So… as compensation for interrupting my journey, hand over your gold token."
"I-I will! I will!!"
The leader immediately threw it down and fled on the only working bike.
"Good choice."
Sabo picked it up, brushed off the sand, and tossed it into his bag.
"Four now."
"Mission progress: 40%."
Back at the G-5 Broadcast Plaza
The crowd erupted again.
"That floral shirt guy is insane!"
"What kind of fighting style is that?!"
"Salted Fish Fist? Never heard of it!"
Rehn shouted excitedly: "Incredible! Truly incredible! Contestant Sassy has effortlessly crushed the Sandstorm Gang with his uniquely… lifestyle-inspired martial art!"
"This elegance! This movement! This fashion sense."
He narrowed his eyes.
"I bet this guy is a talent! Exactly the kind G-5 needs, strong and entertaining!"
VIP Observation Deck
Renzo lazily opened one eye, glancing at the screen showing Sabo's smiling face.
His gaze lingered briefly on Sabo's hand, the faint hint of a claw-like form.
"Heh…"
"That movement… if you ignore the ugly outfit…"
"It's kind of like a certain revolutionary's student."
Rehn gasped. "You mean, he's Revolutionary Army?!"
"I didn't say that."
Renzo turned over, smirking.
"Who cares who he is?"
"As long as he's here to grab the fruit… and make things interesting…"
"Let him play."
"After all…"
"No matter who wins-"
"They'll be signing a contract to work for me."
"Even the Revolutionary Army's second-in-command… guarding my gate wouldn't be bad, right?"
...
Back in the Desert
Sabo suddenly shivered.
"…Weird. Why does it feel cold in the desert?"
He scanned his surroundings cautiously.
"…Feels like something dangerous is watching me."
He shrugged.
"Maybe Commander Dragon's thinking about me."
"Whatever."
He looked toward the tallest dune, where the brightest red beam shone.
"Let's grab the fifth token first."
"The Dark-Dark Fruit… I will get it."
He dashed forward, leaving firm footprints in the scorching sand.
On the other side of the dune, a heavily armored man wielding a massive chainsaw waited with a sinister grin.
"The strongest in the Fifth Zone… the 'Steel Butcher,' huh?"
Flames of battle ignited in Sabo's eyes.
"Let's see…"
"Is your armor tougher…"
"Or my 'Salted Fish Fist'?"