In the desert kingdom of Alabasta, the capital city of Alubarna baked under a scorching sun. The golden dunes shimmered with rolling heatwaves, making the air itself feel like fire.
Deep underground, however, a cool casino offered a sharp contrast to the intense heat. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the roar of voices. The shouts of gamblers mixed with the crisp clinking of gold coins, creating a symphony of greed and desire.
But in the luxurious room at the casino's heart, the atmosphere was as cold and heavy as ice.
A tall man stood with his back to the door, gazing through a massive floor-to-ceiling window at the bustling gambling floor below. He wore a lavish black fur coat, a strange choice for Alabasta's climate, yet not a single drop of sweat appeared on his brow. A golden cross earring hung from his left ear, and a cigar dangled from his lips, its rising smoke blurring his young, ruthless face.
He was the new king of this underground world: Crocodile.
"Boss," a trusted subordinate pushed the door open cautiously, his voice trembling with fear. "Th-that guy… he's here again."
Crocodile didn't turn around. He simply took the cigar from his lips and slowly exhaled a thick plume of smoke. "Tell him to get lost," he said, his voice low and hoarse, carrying a tone that left no room for argument.
"We told him… but he wouldn't listen. He even hurt several of our brothers…" the subordinate stammered, sounding like he was about to cry.
"Oh?" Crocodile finally turned, a flicker of impatience and cruelty in his hawk-like eyes. "A bunch of useless trash."
He strode out of the room. His leather shoes made no sound on the thick carpet, but the subordinates following him felt a suffocating pressure with every step he took.
Down in the casino hall, the once-noisy scene was now dead silent. The gamblers had long since fled in terror, leaving behind overturned tables and casino guards groaning on the floor. A monstrous man stood in the center of the hall, his massive, bulging muscles giving off a nauseating aura of pure brutality.
It was Douglas Bullet.
"Crocodile," Bullet grinned, revealing a bloodthirsty smile. His voice sounded like two massive stones grinding together. "Your subordinates are too weak."
Crocodile walked toward him and stopped, calmly looking the uninvited guest up and down. "I'll say this one last time. I'm not interested in fighting a mad dog like you. Get out of my territory."
"Mad dog?" The smile on Bullet's face grew even more ferocious. "That's right, I am a mad dog! A mad dog that craves a fight with the strong! And you, Crocodile… your reputation has spread all over this desert. They say you're the strongest one here!"
"So what?" Crocodile's tone was mocking.
"Then prove it to me!" Bullet roared. He stomped his foot, and the hard stone floor instantly cracked beneath the force. His massive body shot forward like a cannonball, charging with immense power.
"You're asking to die," Crocodile snorted, stepping forward to meet the charge instead of retreating. He raised his right hand, fingers spread, and aimed his palm at the incoming Bullet.
In an instant, the ground beneath Crocodile's feet began to turn to sand. The dry, yellow sand swirled up as if it were alive, forming a massive wall in front of him.
"Sandstorm!"
Boom—!
Bullet's iron fist smashed into the sand wall with a deafening roar. The wall exploded on impact, and a cloud of yellow sand instantly engulfed the entire hall, reducing visibility to zero.
"Is that all you've got?!" Bullet's arrogant roar echoed from within the dust. The next second, a dark shadow tore through the sand curtain, aiming directly for Crocodile's face. Bullet had already covered his fist with Armament Haki, and the black, hardened fist glowed ominously in the dim light.
Crocodile's eyes narrowed. His body instantly dissolved into a swirling mass of sand, narrowly dodging the fatal blow.
"A Logia type? Interesting!" Bullet's attack missed, but he only became more excited. He followed up with a powerful back-handed kick that swept through the air with a powerful gust of wind.
Crocodile reformed in mid-air. The massive golden hook on his left hand flashed with a cold light as he brought it up to parry Bullet's kick.
Clang!
The collision of metal and flesh sounded like two swords clashing. A tremendous force traveled up the golden hook, and Crocodile was sent sliding back several meters, his feet carving two deep furrows into the ground.
"You've got some strength," Crocodile said, steadying himself and shaking his slightly numb arm.
"And your hook is pretty tough!" Bullet retracted his leg, the desire for battle burning fiercely in his eyes. "Come on! Stop hiding like a woman! Show me your full power!"
"As you wish," Crocodile's eyes turned completely cold. He placed his right hand on the ground and growled, "Desert Spada!"
The sand on the ground gathered furiously, forming a massive blade of sand several meters long on his arm. The sand blade spun at high speed, emitting a piercing hum as the swirling air currents cut through the space around it.
"Combine!" Bullet roared, not wanting to be outdone. The gambling tables, rubble, and metal decorations around him were pulled by an invisible force, flying toward him and rapidly covering his body to form a monstrous suit of thick outer armor. This was the power of his Devil Fruit—the Clank-Clank Fruit.
The two monsters, one transformed into a blade of sand and the other into a steel behemoth, collided fiercely once again.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The entire underground casino shook violently under their fierce battle, threatening to collapse at any moment. Every collision between the sand blade and the iron fist unleashed destructive shockwaves that tore everything around them to shreds. Walls cracked, large chunks of rubble fell from the ceiling, and the once-luxurious casino was reduced to a ruin.
The battle raged from dusk until deep into the night, and from the night until the break of dawn.
When the first ray of morning light shone through the holes in the ceiling, both men were covered in wounds and gasping for breath. Bullet's combined armor was in tatters, revealing his scarred flesh beneath. Crocodile's fur coat was ripped and torn, and several new cuts decorated his face. Blood dripped down his cheek, but he still held his cigar between his lips, his eyes defiant.
"Hah… hah…" Bullet panted heavily, his chest heaving, but his face showed a satisfaction he had never felt before. "That was exhilarating! Truly exhilarating! Crocodile, you are strong!"
Crocodile didn't answer. He just watched him in silence.
"We'll call this a draw," Bullet said, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth as he dropped his fighting stance. "When I get stronger, I'll be back for you. Next time, I will utterly defeat you!"
With that, he turned and began to leave, dragging his tired, heavy body out of the ruins while laughing heartily.
Crocodile stood perfectly still until Bullet's figure had completely disappeared. Only then did his body finally give out. He fell to one knee and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"Boss!" The surviving subordinates rushed over in alarm.
"Get out of my way," Crocodile pushed them aside and struggled back to his feet. His gaze was fixed on the direction Bullet had left, his eyes filled with a complex emotion. He had felt it—Bullet's will, which existed purely for the sake of "strength."
In contrast, his own pursuit of "power" seemed to be mixed with too many other things. He thought of Bullet, of the shadow of the Roger Pirates' ship, and of a certain man's wild and unrestrained smile.
"Heh…" Crocodile chuckled softly. His laughter grew louder and louder until it turned into an unbridled, maniacal roar.
"Hahahahaha! Interesting!"
He slowly straightened his body and brushed off his tattered fur coat. In the morning light, the scars on his face looked even more ferocious.
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