The desert air fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the restless snorts of camels.
Heg and his pack of vicious looking bandits lay sprawled across the scorching sand, limbs at odd angles, foam bubbling at their mouths, eyes rolled back like their souls had been yanked out all at once.
Jack was frozen atop his camel, jaw hanging wide enough to swallow an egg. The body that had been trembling like a rattle a moment ago had gone stiff, locked by sheer shock.
He had watched them charge in menacingly and then, less than ten meters away, they simply collapsed one after another without warning.
The whole thing was so eerie it made his scalp tingle.
"B Blake… little brother… just now…" Jack's voice was dry and shaking. He twisted his stiff neck to look at the young man beside him who still looked lazy as ever.
Kael yawned, rubbed his eyes, and spread his hands innocently.
"Ahaha, no idea." His tone was pure and earnest. "Maybe it's too hot and they ran too fast, heatstroke, you know? Look, it's nap time."
Nap time? Heatstroke?
Jack stared at the dozens of burly men unconscious on the sand, then at Kael's harmless face, and felt a chill crawl up from his tailbone.
More and more, he believed this "backpacker" was unfathomably deep.
The rest of the journey grew strange.
Everyone kept their distance from Kael, sneaking glances at him with a mix of reverence and fear.
Only Jack, after the initial shock wore off, slowly regained his nerve.
When they finally reached an Alabasta town without incident, Jack cleared his throat as they parted ways. He slapped his chest and returned to his desert tough guy act.
"Hey, Brother Blake, seriously, don't get it twisted just because I didn't make a move." Spit flew as he gestured. "I was about to play weak and lure them in! Who knew they couldn't handle the sun and just passed out one by one. Back in the day, I walked the desert alone for forty nine days straight and didn't even blink!"
Kael smiled and nodded, not bothering to expose him.
"Jack, you're amazing."
"Damn right!" Jack lifted his chin proudly, then lowered his voice and leaned in like he was sharing a secret.
"Listen, kid, I'm telling you as a brother. The water's too deep here, you can't handle it. Alabasta's not peaceful lately. Be careful on your own. This is Crocodile's territory. He eats people and doesn't even spit out the bones."
"Thanks for the warning, Jack."
Kael waved goodbye, watching Jack and the caravan disappear at the end of the street. The smile on his face turned a little more genuine.
Interesting guy.
Wasn't this the whole point of hiding his identity, not even bringing along his bodyguard, Hawk, and coming to this land "incognito"?
To witness living, breathing people. To experience their lives.
And, while he was at it, to play the pig and eat the tiger… ahem.
Kael slipped into an empty alley. His silhouette twisted a few times in the shadow.
Not long after, the plainly dressed young backpacker vanished.
In his place stood a man draped in gold and silver jewelry, wearing a gaudy silk shirt with questionable taste. His hair was slicked until it shone, and his face screamed: I'm rich, and I'm stupid.
He swaggered out of the alley, a gemstone studded cane in hand, drawing stares from passersby.
…
Alabasta, Rainbase.
A lawless zone even the royal army could not touch, its air forever soaked in the stink of money, the bite of alcohol, and the sweet metallic scent of despair.
Rain Dinners, the largest casino in the desert, sat at the center of it all.
Inside the main hall, noise boiled like a storm.
Gamblers crowded around tables, faces twisted with ecstasy, fury, or numb emptiness.
The crisp clatter of dice, the whispering shuffle of cards, and the barely contained roars and wails of men all fused into a symphony called Desire.
"Cheating! You bastard, you dare cheat on my turf!"
A furious shout shattered the balance at one table.
A burly man with the wild eyes of a desperate loser flipped the table with a roar, scattering chips and glasses across the floor.
He yanked a curved blade from his waist and thrust it toward the dealer's face, features feral.
Casino guards immediately swarmed in, but the man was clearly a hardened outlaw. He swung the blade wildly and for a moment no one dared step close.
On the second floor VIP area, a figure lounged in a wide chair.
He wore a heavy black fur coat, completely out of place in the desert heat.
A gleaming golden hook hung where his left hand should be. An expensive cigar sat between his lips, smoke curling to hide most of his face, leaving only a pair of eyes that looked down on all life.
Crocodile.
He did not even turn around. He only flicked his hand in irritation.
A visible sandstorm appeared from nowhere, instantly swallowing the screaming troublemaker.
Sand like starving locusts surged into the man's mouth, nose, eyes, ears, wrapping every inch of his skin.
"A… ah…" No full scream came out. His body withered at a terrifying speed, skin losing all moisture and shine, clinging tight to bone, until he became a twisted dried corpse that collapsed with a dull thud.
The hall that had been roaring with noise fell into instant silence.
Every gambler froze, staring at the corpse on the floor as cold sweat slid down foreheads.
Crocodile snorted, utterly uninterested in the result.
He stood and turned into the office behind him.
After the fear, the casino's mood only grew more feverish.
In people's eyes, beyond terror, there was a sick excitement.
This was Rain Dinners, a madhouse where the strong ruled and even life and death could be thrown onto the table as stakes.
Soon, guards dragged away the "trash" and the games resumed, as if nothing had happened.
Just then, at the casino entrance, a waiter greeted a new guest with a broad smile.
"Good evening, sir. Welcome to Rain Dinners. What would you like to play today?"
Disguised, Kael removed a feathered top hat studded with an absurdly large ornament, revealing a youthful face with a hint of foolishness.
His glittering, gold drenched upstart outfit made even a waiter used to rich clients unable to stop his eyes from lighting up.
That outfit. That expression.
The waiter's heart leapt with joy.
A fat sheep, ninety nine percent pure, calling all hands!
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