One Piece: Honey Badger Speedruns the World

Six Honey Island, Seven Honey Town, a narrow, damp alleyway that is perpetually shaded from the sun.

In the deepest corner of the alley, leaning against the wall, is a huge European-style floor mirror with a gilded frame, but covered in dust.

It stands out starkly from the surrounding filthy garbage heaps, like an abandoned piece of aristocratic furniture; the mirror even reflects a rat rummaging through the trash.

Two furtive figures were reflected on it.

"Capone Bege, they're all here."

Baltifully dragged the heavy tin box between the two of them, kicking up a cloud of dust as it hit the ground.

"Top-grade red rock gunpowder leaked from underground arms dealers in the New World. This full box is enough to sink an entire naval fleet."

Barr rubbed his hands together with a confident expression.

Capone Becky had a cigar in his mouth, his hands in the pockets of his striped suit, and his eyes looked particularly deep under the brim of his hat.

He didn't speak, but simply scanned the box with a scrutinizing gaze.

The air was filled with a chilling smell of sulfur.

well.

Becky nodded to herself, her eyes growing increasingly sinister.

The insane and meticulous plan to kill the emperor in his mind had now reached its final stage.

That old woman possessed an abnormal defense known as the "Iron Balloon." Conventional external attacks, even those involving gunfire and artillery, probably couldn't even scratch her skin.

But... what if it's from the inside?

His gaze seemed to pierce through time and space, looking through the box, and into the grand tea party that was about to take place.

I will secretly mix this batch of high-purity, top-grade gunpowder into the base and cream of the wedding cake.

It was a delicious treat she absolutely couldn't resist, and it was also the moment when she was least on guard while eating.

But that's not enough... To ensure everything goes perfectly, we also need that "key switch".

A photograph flashed into Becky's mind.

A photograph of Sister Carmel.

If that photo is smashed, the old woman will go into a frenzied rage due to extreme grief, letting out strange screams mixed with Conqueror's Haki.

In those few seconds, her mental defenses crumbled, causing her invincible physical defenses to drop drastically—that was the only time she, a mortal, would bleed and even scrape her knees.

Becky's lips curled into a cruel yet composed smile, as if she could already hear the funeral bells tolling.

"Heh...hehehe..."

This is the Mafia's method.

"I cannot tolerate the slightest mistake in what I want."

"Come on, let's inspect the goods."

Becky stopped laughing, exhaled a puff of smoke, and her eyes were filled with an impatient fervor.

Click. The latch pops open.

As the lid of the box was lifted, Becky's usually serious and ruthless mafia face froze for a moment.

There was no black gunpowder powder.

Neatly stacked in the box were dozens of bright red clown-shaped balls, each painted with a comical red nose and grinning wildly.

They were huddled together in the box, their comical smiling faces seemingly mocking Becky silently.

"..."

A piece of ash fell from Becky's cigar.

"What...is this?"

Becky's voice trembled, a sign of her anger.

"Well?"

Barr was dumbfounded. He picked up a red ball and shook it.

"Strange... The taste is right? This seems to be a special bomb from the 'Buggy the Clown' pirate crew... What's it called? The Buggy Bomb?"

"asshole!!"

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?!"

Becky finally snapped, his face instantly contorting into a hideous grimace, and then—bang!

With a heavy metallic clang, the two lapels of his striped suit suddenly sprang open like the drawbridge of a castle, revealing the strange space inside his body that defied the structure of the human body.

There were no bloodied entrails there, only a brightly lit miniature military fortress.

"Kill him!"

"Aim at the center of your forehead! Ready to fire!"

Behind the crenellations of the "inner city wall," which were no bigger than a palm, stood two rows of tiny mafia members, each no bigger than a thumb.

They were dressed in matching black suits, wearing sunglasses smaller than grains of rice, and carrying miniature rifles that looked like toothpicks and rocket launchers the size of buttons.

At first glance, they look like a group of well-made plastic toy soldiers, or a set of exquisite figurines in the middle of a sand table exercise.

Some of the "toy soldiers" even had cigars thinner than a human hair in their mouths, and were looking menacingly at Baal's head, which they saw as a mountain, through a miniature scope.

This is the miniature gang of the Castle Fruit.

Although it looks like a ridiculous dollhouse, Baal knows very well that once those tiny bullets leave Becky's "boundary," they will instantly become large-caliber lead bullets capable of piercing a skull.

Dozens of dark, pinhole-like gun barrels, exuding a real aura of death, were pressed firmly against Baal's forehead.

"Don't kill me! I don't know either—"

Just as Becky's murderous intent surged and she was about to pull the trigger—

hum-

The floor-length mirror that had been standing quietly to the side suddenly began to vibrate violently, like ripples on water.

The mouse that was rummaging through the trash in front of the mirror was so frightened that it squeaked and ran away in all directions.

A heavy, solid aura, filled with the pressure of an absolute powerhouse, did not emanate from the mirror intentionally, but naturally filled the entire alley.

Becky's movements abruptly stopped. This aura… this overwhelming sense of pressure…

Hey.

That was the crisp sound of leather boots with spurs stepping on the ground.

A long, slender leg stepped out of the mirror first, followed by a tall figure, over five meters tall and wearing a scarf to cover his face, who bowed slightly and walked out of the mirror.

Charlotte Katakuri.

He simply stood there, a pocket watch in his hand, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness and frustration as an elder brother:

"Brûlée, where does this mirror lead? Why is it a garbage dump?"

"Hehehe! Brother, this is the closest shortcut to the celebration!"

Bry's old witch-like face then peeked out from the mirror: "Sister Flampe, you're in such a hurry, aren't you!"

"Really..."

Katakuri sighed, closed his pocket watch, and said in a deep, magnetic voice, "That girl said she'd throw a huge tantrum if I didn't go to present her with the award. For such a boring competition..."

At this point, he seemed to notice that there were other people in the alley.

Those sharp, dark red eyes swept lightly over Becky, who was frozen in place, and... the open box of bright red clown bombs at Becky's feet.

In that instant, Becky felt his blood freeze. Cold sweat poured down his back like a waterfall.