"L-Lady Hancock! L-Lady Shirahoshi! Sorry to bother you but… we have a problem... The warship that's been following us just accelerated—it looks like it's going to try and ram us!"
The pirate's nervous voice broke the silence on the deck.
He barely dared to lift his head, his back hunched and eyes fixed on the wooden floor beneath his boots, trembling not only because he stood before two women whose beauty could petrify him, but also because the mere thought of Lord Tiberion finding out he had dared to look at their faces… meant death.
"Hmph… they seek death," Hancock scoffed with contempt, though she didn't even bother to turn around; her body remained still, reclining against a seat covered in soft fabrics.
"..."
For a few more seconds, she kept resting with her head held high, until finally, with deliberate slowness, she straightened up, turning her face just slightly over her shoulder to glance into the distance.
There it was… the same warship that had been tailing them from the East Blue, always maintaining a safe distance—until now.
"Shirahoshi, dear…" she said then, "Handle this. We can't allow anything to disturb Tiberion's mood."
As soon as his name was spoken, something changed in Shirahoshi's eyes—her previously distracted face lit up.
She wasn't good at fighting, and she lacked experience. But when it came to him, she was always ready to act.
Because every time she proved herself useful, she felt like she stopped being that "useless girl" she had always believed she was.
"Of course, sister! But tell me what to do!"
Hancock turned toward her, studying her determined expression. For a moment, her face softened.
"They want to ram our ship," her tone became almost motherly, "Just send a few Sea Kings. Have them ram their ship before they get close."
"I understand," Shirahoshi nodded, "I'll do it."
Without hesitation, she closed her eyes and placed both hands over her chest.
In that instant, the sea fell silent.
And soon, an imperceptible vibration began to spread, like a soundwave that pierced through the surface of the water, traveling in all directions. It was a frequency the human ear could not perceive, but so powerful it made the seagulls flee with terrified cries.
From the depths, a consciousness answered the call.
'Queen... I felt your summons.'
And from the blackest trenches of the abyss, something began to rise.
It did not emerge… only hinted at its presence.
A colossal shape appeared beneath the surface—a monstrous silhouette with the form of a predator all creatures instinctively fear without knowing why.
'Your Majesty… as you wish. But remember… only your compassion will save them.'
'Just… scare them a little,' Shirahoshi conveyed without opening her eyes, 'They're not to be eaten.'
Then the silhouette moved.
And within seconds, several hundred meters behind Tiberion's ship, the sea began to swell. The once calm surface rose as if a mountain were trying to burst from below.
But it wasn't a wave.
It was a dark mass surging forward, pushing tons of water aside as if shifting the entire sea. A massive fin emerged first, coated in dull gray scales.
Its full body couldn't be seen.
Just a section of the creature was enough to make the warship look like a toy raft adrift.
From Smoker's warship, several marines peeked through binoculars—and froze.
"...What the hell is that?"
"P-P-It looks like an island… but… it doesn't move like one…"
"IT'S A SEA KING! AND IT'S A HUGE ONE!"
Smoker's frown deepened sharply.
Then, the sea exploded upward, and from within a towering column of white foam, the full image emerged: a colossal head—of a shark, with a body so massive its full size couldn't be grasped at a glance.
Over two kilometers in length.
The Sea King surfaced entirely and, with a roar that didn't come from its mouth, it charged.
Boom
In a split second, Smoker's warship was reduced to rubble.
"Not bad…" Hancock murmured, crossing her arms as a gentle smile formed on her lips.
Her eyes then settled on Shirahoshi with pride. She truly was the Ancient Weapon.
"Shirahoshi, when could you accompany me to Amazon Lily?" she asked. "I'd like the Sea Kings in the Calm Belt to stop threatening my people when they go out fishing."
"Could you help us with that?"
Shirahoshi, still glowing inside from the praise she had just received, tilted her head.
"Will our husband be going?"
Hancock flinched imperceptibly. Even though she had heard that word several times since Shirahoshi started using it, she still hadn't grown used to it. Our... The echo of that word lingered in her mind. A rush of heat rose from her neck to her cheeks, painting her face red, but even so, forcing herself to maintain her dignity, she did not look away.
"O-Of course…" she finally replied, her voice a bit softer, lowering her tone so it wouldn't tremble. "It's my home—of course he'll go."
"Then yes! If he goes, I'll go too!" Shirahoshi exclaimed joyfully.
Then, more seriously, she clenched her small fists and declared with conviction:
"I don't want him to think I'm useless. I know he wants me to become stronger… and that's why I push myself a little more every day. I never forget that."
"..."
Hancock watched her in complete silence, not interrupting. For a moment, her face softened in a way it rarely did, and her lips, without meaning to, curved into a genuine smile.
But that expression didn't last long.
As soon as she turned to the pirate who still hadn't left, her face changed entirely. The warmth vanished as if it had never been there.
Her gaze turned cold, and her body radiated that authoritative elegance that made others tremble.
"How long until we reach Arabasta?"
The pirate, head bowed low, answered with utmost respect.
"R-Responding to Lady Hancock… according to the nautical routes left by the Marines, w-we estimate that we'll arrive in about a day at most."
Hancock simply nodded.
"Good. Full speed ahead."
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
The pirate turned awkwardly and fled, nearly tripping over himself, disappearing without even glancing back.
Hancock then took a slow step toward the railing and stopped before the open sea that stretched beyond the horizon. But her gaze, although fixed on the water, wasn't truly there… it was far away. Focused on him.
'Once we reach Arabasta… I'll finally be able to take him back home', she thought, and that simple idea flooded her inside with a tide of sweet anticipation.
But then, a memory resurfaced in her mind.
She slightly shifted her gaze—and there was Shirahoshi, still smiling, still glowing with the happiness only a woman deeply loved can radiate.
And then she felt it again. That sting…
It wasn't envy—Hancock would never lower herself to something as vulgar as envying another woman… no. It was something else. It was a wound of justice.
She loved him too. She had also given herself completely—not just with her body, but with her soul. She, too, had been marked by him.
And above all… she was beautiful.
As beautiful as Shirahoshi.
Wasn't that enough?
Why should I settle for less…?
She also dreamed of it. Not some vague illusion, but something real, something solid.
She wanted a ceremony to seal her place in Tiberion's life before everyone.
Yes… that would be fair.
A wedding.
…
Kingdom of Arabasta, capital city: Alubarna.
The sun beat down on the white stone rooftops, but inside the royal palace, all that could be felt was a chilling cold.
Inside the Alubarna Palace.
Crocodile stood in the center of the grand hall, his gaze terrifying. In front of him, King Cobra hovered suspended in midair, completely immobilized—his body trapped in a spiral of sand that coiled around him from ankles to chest, leaving only his face exposed.
The sand slowly rotated around him like a constricting serpent, and with each passing second, it drained more and more moisture from his body. His skin was starting to crack; his lips were splitting, his cheeks sunken, and his eyes looked like burnt-out coals dulled by the weight of forced dehydration.
A few meters away, Nico Robin stood with her arms crossed, serious and silent, not intervening. Beside her, several high-ranking agents of Baroque Works had already subdued the entire royal guard and the palace's administrative staff.
The floor was spattered with blood.
Several officials lay unconscious or wounded, piled in corners, and among them, only Pell and Chaka still clung to a shred of willpower—barely.
Pell, the famous "Pell the Falcon," was on his knees, panting, with a deep wound at the base of his neck that wouldn't stop bleeding. One of his arms hung limp at his side, clearly broken. His white clothes were in tatters, caked with dust and blood.
Beside him, Chaka, one of the kingdom's chief guards, struggled to remain upright, but the gash crossing his body made it almost impossible. His sword had been destroyed long ago, and now all he could do was grit his teeth to keep from screaming.
Behind them both stood Daz Bones, who remained silent. His arms had already transformed into blades, each one extended to the necks of Pell and Chaka.
The blades didn't just restrain them; they forced them to lift their heads and face the miserable state of their king.
"King Cobra…" Crocodile spoke calmly, "I am Crocodile—one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, recognized by the World Government. A title that gives me the right to kill, to take, to conquer."
"If I so desire, I can wipe this place off the map in a matter of hours. Men, women, children… turned to dust. Nothing would remain but sand."
"But if you choose to cooperate with me… if you reveal the location and secrets of the ancient weapon Pluton, and hand over your daughter as my bride, then this kingdom will suffer no harm. You will live. She will live. All these miserable people will live."
"You have that choice, King Cobra. But if you refuse…"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"…this is what awaits you."
Crocodile didn't make any grand gesture—he only moved his eyes.
And with that simple signal, Daz Bones drove his blades forward in a single motion.
The steel sliced through flesh like butter. Pell and Chaka's throats were slashed from side to side in an instant.
Their heads fell backward, separated from their bodies.
Blood gushed in torrents, soaking the palace floor and splattering Daz Bones' legs—who didn't even blink.
Their headless bodies collapsed that very moment, like two statues shattered by a storm.
The entire hall fell silent.
This wasn't just a murder.
It was a statement.
A warning without metaphor.
Crocodile wasn't looking to negotiate. He wanted it to be understood—without a trace of ambiguity—that every word he spoke carried the weight of a death sentence.
"CROCODILEEE!!!" King Cobra roared.
Still suspended in the air, he struggled—tried to break free, to do something… but he couldn't move a single muscle. His body trembled, not from weakness, but from a rage so pure it felt like it was burning him alive from the inside.
"Even if you bear the title of Shichibukai, you have no right to massacre my people! You cannot threaten this country as if it were your own! The World Government will not allow it! I swear to you—they will make you pay for this!"
But Crocodile didn't flinch. He simply gave a crooked smile.
"Kuahahahaha! The World Government? You actually believe they'll move for you, you senile fool?"
"You think someone's coming to save you? How long will that take? A day? Two? You're alone! And this country… this miserable desert… is mine to crush."
"If you don't do what I ask, if you don't cooperate, I'll kill them all. One by one. Slowly. Mercilessly. And who's going to stop me in time? NO ONE!!"
With every word, he seemed to lose more of his sanity.
He wasn't behaving like himself anymore. No, something else was driving him now—an obsessive, pathological need to kill Tiberion Hanma with his own hands.
He desired it in a sick, all-consuming way, as if his very existence now revolved around it. And he didn't care what it cost. Not the world, not his allies, not even his own life.
If both of them had to die in the process… then so be it!
And then, without changing his tone, he gave the order.
"Kill them all. Leave no one alive."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Silence turned to screams of horror.
They had been deceived.
Every single one of them had come to the palace believing Crocodile was calling an urgent meeting. But now it was clear: they had been led here like lambs to the slaughter. It had all been a trap—to gather them in one place and execute them without resistance.
"S-Sir Crocodile, p-please no!" begged a man in his forties. "Don't kill us! I swear, we've always obeyed your orders!"
"I'm begging you!" cried another, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I've worked for you for years…! Can't you spare us just this once?!"
"I have elderly parents to care for… and small children! Please, don't take our lives…!"
"YOUR MAJESTY!!!" screamed a young woman, her eyes swollen from crying. "I don't want to die! Save us, I beg you!"
Around Cobra, dozens of men and women fell to their knees, their hands raised or clasped in prayer—some prostrated fully on the ground, weeping.
But in the middle of that sea of desperation, Daz Bones raised his right hand.
And with a simple movement, a straight line of heads dropped all at once.
Eleven bodies—maybe twelve—collapsed one after another, as if the entire hall were falling apart in slow motion.
Blood surged, painting the floor red within seconds, while the screams of the still-living rose in sheer terror.
The head of the young woman who had screamed last fell, her eyes still wide open—frozen in a final plea for mercy.
From a raised corner, leaning against a column, Robin watched everything in silence. Her face showed no obvious reaction, but her eyes… were in conflict.
She didn't understand… something about Crocodile had changed.
Since his return, his behavior was completely different, as if he had either lost control—or willingly surrendered it to a darker obsession.
The original plan had been to sow chaos from within, to slowly destabilize the kingdom's government and replace it from the shadows, without drawing the kind of attention that might provoke direct intervention from the World Government.
And yet… now he acted as if all that planning meant nothing. As if his goal was no longer to take control of the kingdom, but to fulfill a far more urgent need.
As if he couldn't wait even a second longer.
She didn't understand it—but she knew that, for now, all she could do was watch closely and in silence. No matter how much what she saw repulsed her.
All she could do was witness as the bodies kept falling.
Cobra still resisted.
Though his body remained suspended in the air, drained and brittle like the desert he ruled, his spirit continued to wrestle with the idea of surrender. Despite the pain tearing through every corner of his body, despite the encroaching darkness clouding his vision, and the blood of others now soaking the floor beneath the throne… he still hadn't spoken those words.
Because in his mind, surrender would be final. It would be admitting that everything he fought for, everything he protected—his reign, his legacy, his daughter—no longer mattered. It would be placing the crown in the hands of chaos.
But the killings didn't stop.
Ten more.
Twenty.
Thirty.
And each one hurt more than the last.
They were citizens, officials, ordinary people who had served the kingdom, who had believed in him… and now they were being executed like livestock.
But the worst part—the part that truly tore Cobra apart—were their voices.
"Your Majesty, we don't want to die!"
That was all they said before they were killed.
Never a "surrender," never a "give him the throne."
They didn't pressure him. They didn't blame him. They didn't demand that he submit. They only begged… to live.
And that shattered him, forcing him to shut his eyes for a moment. In that instant, he saw himself from the outside—not as a king, but as a man.
What had he done with his reign?
He believed he had protected his people. He believed he had preserved stability. But now… the severed heads of his subjects stared at him from the ground. What had all his years of rule been worth if he couldn't prevent this horror? What value did his pride have if everyone he was supposed to protect was dying because of him?
He had failed.
And not just as a king.
As a father too.
He had exposed Vivi to a living hell from which she might never be saved—and worst of all, he had done it out of stubbornness, refusing to bow before madness.
And now, it was too late.
"...Enough!!!"
His eyes filled with moisture, but he didn't cry. He had no tears left.
"I'll accept all your terms! All of them! Just… let them live...!"
"KUAHAHAHA!"
Crocodile's laughter burst through the hall like thunder.
"You foolish old man… finally, some sense."
He was ecstatic. Not because he had won a negotiation—but because he had broken a king completely.
His face, twisted with laughter. He took a few steps forward until he stood directly in front of Cobra.
"Now you're going to do two things," he said, raising a finger with venomous theatricality. "First—you'll tell me everything you know about Pluton later. I want all of it, every detail, its location. But second…" his smile widened, "You're going to announce to the entire kingdom that your daughter, Princess Vivi, will be my wife. And that the wedding will be held in three days."
Cobra turned pale.
For a long time, Crocodile had suspected that Vivi had infiltrated his organization to spy on him from within. However, back then, his interest in her had been shallow. He had left the matter in the hands of his subordinates and thought no more of it.
But now, he wasn't thinking logically.
He had changed.
It was no longer just about obtaining the Ancient Weapons, nor about ruling over Arabasta. No. There was a fracture in his mind he couldn't seal, a void he was desperate to fill.
And that answer was Vivi.
He wanted the whole world to know that he, Crocodile, wasn't just a pirate or a Shichibukai… but also a man.
It was an illusion, yes. A lie he kept telling himself to soothe his madness. But it was his truth.
One he was determined to impose by force.
Cobra clenched his teeth tightly. Rage boiled through his veins, but he no longer had the strength to shout it. And yet, when he lifted his face once more, something had changed in his eyes.
"Vivi… always dreamed of choosing her husband through a combat competition," he said without hesitation. "It was her only wish as a princess. An open challenge—where anyone who wanted her hand would have to earn it… not just with strength, but with honor."
Crocodile raised an eyebrow, amused.
"I've already failed Vivi as a father," Cobra admitted bitterly. "But if you want to take my daughter… you'll have to accept that duel."
"..."
Silence fell for a moment. But only for a moment.
Then Crocodile laughed again.
"Kuahahaha! Interesting, old man. Very interesting. I accept."
"But let me remind you of something, Cobra…"
"In this desert, I am king. Invincible!"
And then he narrowed his eyes. "I know you're scheming something, Cobra," he muttered with disdain. "One more little game… But it doesn't matter what you're planning. In three days… Vivi will be mine. Before the entire kingdom. And nothing—absolutely nothing—will stop it!"
He was confident that, by combining his Devil Fruit powers with the terrain of Arabasta, not even a Marine Admiral could face him on equal ground.
Worried about whatever Cobra might be plotting?
Not at all.
…
One day later.
An official announcement was made across the Kingdom of Arabasta.
The king declared that, in order to choose a husband for his daughter, Princess Vivi, a combat competition would be held to determine her future spouse.
And the wedding ceremony would take place that very same day.
________
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