Chapter 67: BIG MOM? I’ll Take This Job!
A few days later.
As expected, when word of the ’Major Undertaker’s’ new contract and the events in Assassin Town spread through the Underworld via various channels...
The entire underground shook.
Even among outlaws, no one had ever imagined sothing like this.
’The Zodiac’. So far, only three mbers had appeared.
The first robbed the Celestial Tribute of the Nice-Mayer Kingdom. The second killed Warlord Crocodile.
And now, the third mber, ’Nezumi’, had appeared, openly accepting contracts to assassinate kings and nobles, treating their heads as rchandise.
"Who founded this organization? What are they trying to do?"
Countless people asked themselves these questions.
So began to search for clues in the details of the contract.
"Nineteen types of tal ores... this definitely isn’t for one person. Is ’Nezumi’ collecting them for his organization?"
This clue shocked many.
Compared to a mysterious organization with no known motives...
An organization with a clear purpose and active operations was far more concerning.
"Why is The Zodiac collecting these? To forge weapons?"
"With so many types of ore... are they making an alloy?"
"I asked my smiths. They said slting these nineteen ores together is impossible with current technology..."
Such discussions were endless.
But more factions were closely watching the event itself.
Although ’Major Undertaker’ Drug Peclo upheld his rules, preventing anyone from prying into the details...
Everyone knew change was coming.
Openly putting a price on kings and nobles—if this actually happened, it couldn’t be hidden.
So now, there was only one question.
"Will he really co?"
Sea breeze blew sand against the makeshift houses of canvas and wood.
This was a naless, deserted island.
The village was small, housing no more than fifty people.
Right now, the villagers were gathered at the entrance.
They were all thin and sallow, their clothes ragged. The sound of coughing—cough, cough, cough—echoed constantly from the crowd.
The one asking the question was a young villager.
"It’s been seven years... no one... cough... no one has ever been willing... to help us."
He was clearly doubtful.
"Don’t worry, Turner."
Another man spoke up.
"Didn’t the Transponder Snail say the ssage was delivered? He will co. Others refused because they were afraid, but this is ’The Zodiac’... cough... An organization that kills Warlords easily."
He wasn’t very old, maybe in his thirties. He wore a simple, rusty pendant on his wrist and seed to be the leader.
Hearing this, the restless crowd settled slightly.
"But Abel, even if they killed a Warlord... we... cough..."
The young man nad Turner seed anxious, coughing so hard it sounded like he’d hack up a lung.
Abel patted his back. "Relax. He’ll definitely co..."
But if one looked closely, Abel’s eyes were also filled with worry.
They had contacted him via the snail.
But they knew nothing about ’Nezumi.’
Whether he would co, whether he would accept their request... Abel had no confidence.
But after seven years of rejection, he knew...
"He is our only hope."
As Abel whispered this, he caught sothing in his peripheral vision.
On the beach nearby... a figure was standing there.
Sunlight glinted off the Rat Mask, making it look alive.
Abel hadn’t seen him arrive—he was sure the beach was empty just a mont ago.
But that didn’t matter.
"Are you the clients?"
Nezumi looked at the ragged villagers in confusion.
Since posting the contract, no one had contacted him for days.
He wasn’t surprised—assassinating kings was a big deal; potential clients would naturally be cautious.
He had been prepared to wait longer.
But yesterday, he suddenly received his first ’order.’
Following the code in the order, he ca here... and saw this group.
They reminded him of the slaves from the Nice-Mayer Kingdom—the ones currently living with Yuji.
Nezumi wondered if he had the wrong place.
But...
"Yes!"
Hearing his question, Abel nodded furiously. "Lord Nezumi—we sent the request."
He spoke respectfully. "Please, co into the village."
Nezumi had no objections. He followed them into a house.
The house had clearly been cleaned beforehand—though still dilapidated, it was tidy.
Nezumi declined tea and got straight to the point. "Speak. Who are you? Who do you want dead?"
His directness startled Abel.
But he adapted quickly, dropping the pleasantries. "We are rebels from ’Candied Fruit Island’. We fled here."
"...Rebels?"
Nezumi looked at the villagers outside, listening to the endless coughing.
Uh... I wouldn’t say ’old and weak’, but ’sickly’ is definitely accurate.
These civilians can barely walk. And they call themselves ’rebels’?
"Yes..."
Abel took a deep breath.
Then, in a trembling voice, he told their story.
They ca from ’Candied Fruit Island’ in the North Blue, ho to the ’Caralo Kingdom’.
"Thanks to the island’s fruits, sweet springs, and high-quality honey, life was good. The late King Caralo II was even preparing to apply for World Governnt mbership..."
Nezumi was surprised.
Joining the World Governnt wasn’t easy—the application fee alone was exorbitant (the Heavenly Tribute).
If the previous king could consider it, the small island nation must have been wealthy.
But...
"King Caralo II died suddenly eight years ago, before his plan could succeed. His son, Caralo III, took the throne."
Abel clenched his fist.
That was the beginning of the nightmare.
Caralo III wasn’t ambitious like his father. He thought paying the Heavenly Tribute to join the World Governnt was a waste of money.
Normally, that wouldn’t be wrong.
But...
"To gain protection and status... he secretly allied with... BIG MOM."
Hearing this, Nezumi was stunned.
"BIG MOM!?"
He frowned. "Isn’t your island in the North Blue?"
Everyone knew the Four Emperors ruled the New World.
The Four Blues and the first half of the Grand Line (’Paradise’) were mostly under Marine control.
Of course, the Emperors had the power to enter these seas.
Red-Haired Shanks visited the East Blue. Whitebeard returned to Paradise.
But crossing the Calm Belt or facing the Marines carried risks.
For a normal North Blue island to ally with BIG MOM... that didn’t sound normal.
What value did such an enclave have for her?
Abel gave the answer.
"It’s because of our specialty... ’Rainbow Candied Fruit’..."
He looked pained ntioning it.
"It was a delicacy invented by our first king, made by boiling syrup from our sweet springs with special minerals. Its taste is unmatched... King Caralo II planned to use it to join the World Governnt."
"But Caralo III... that bastard presented the recipe to BIG MOM and won her favor."
Nezumi understood.
Each Emperor had an obsession. Kaido loved war. Whitebeard loved family. Shanks loved... face?
And BIG MOM was obsessed with food—especially sweets!
If the ’Rainbow Candied Fruit’ was truly unparalleled, BIG MOM would invade another Emperor’s territory to get it, let alone the North Blue.
So establishing a connection for it wasn’t strange.
"BIG MOM protected the island, gave Caralo III wealth, and even stationed a squad of ’Homie Soldiers’ there."
Clearly, Caralo III got what he wanted.
Homies—special lifeforms created by Big Mom’s Soul-Soul Fruit.
With their protection, Candied Fruit Island was safe.
But for the citizens... it was hell.
"Making Rainbow Candied Fruit requires extrely high-temperature furnaces to burn the minerals and fuel, and constant stirring."
"Before, we only made a few jars a year. But BIG MOM demanded a shipnt every year!"
This was the origin of the refugees.
BIG MOM didn’t care about pollution. Caralo III built massive syrup furnaces, and the citizens beca slaves to keep them running.
The fus from the furnaces were toxic.
"Many died. Those with weaker bodies didn’t last six months."
"And... cough... those of us who survived are all sick."
Abel ground his teeth.
"We gathered people and rebelled, but we were easily crushed."
"Only about thirty of us escaped to here..."
Hearing this, Nezumi asked softly, "You want to save your holand?"
But Abel shook his head.
"No... Candied Fruit Island is already destroyed."
His eyes turned red.
"We just want to hire soone to kill that tyrant... We just want him dead!"
Nezumi was silent for a mont. "You know my price. 200 million Berries, or the nineteen tals. Can you pay?"
"Yes! Of course!"
Abel didn’t hesitate. "We’ve saved every Berry we could for seven years, working on nearby islands. We have just over 200 million. We’ll give it all to you!"
His voice was loud, like a drowning man clutching a straw.
"And the tals on your list... we don’t have them, but we know where they are!"
He said grimly. "The materials BIG MOM gave Caralo III to build the furnaces included Fire-Charcoal Steel and Farada Crystal... I was drafted to build them. I’m certain!"
He held his breath, looking at Nezumi.
His heart felt like it had stopped.
For seven years, no one dared accept their request.
He knew why.
Back in the North Blue, they didn’t understand what BIG MOM was.
But after seven years of struggling, they knew what a ’Four Emperor’ ant.
A monster. An Emperor of the Sea. A calamity not to be provoked.
Killing a king protected by BIG MOM was too risky for anyone.
Nezumi looked at Abel.
He saw the rusty pendant on Abel’s wrist. It held a yellowed photo.
A young Abel stood next to a middle-aged woman wearing a blue gem necklace.
They looked alike—mother and son.
But Nezumi hadn’t seen that woman in the crowd.
The answer was obvious.
"Since you have the commission fee."
Nezumi gave his answer.
"Then, as you wish... I’ll take this job."
☆☆☆
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