Every muscle in Crocodile's body locked up, his mind turning to blank white noise.
Wave King… Aaron Kael.
That name hung above every ambitious soul in this world like a storm cloud, heavy enough to suffocate.
Why was he here? How was he here? What did he want in Alabasta?
Countless questions detonated in Crocodile's skull, yet his body refused to obey.
Then Kael moved.
He stepped closer, hooked a finger under the cigar that had fallen to the floor, the tip dusted with sand.
Then he walked up to Crocodile and, under the stare of those pupils tightened by sheer shock, calmly slid the cigar back between Crocodile's lips.
Natural. Casual.
Like lighting a friend's smoke.
"…!"
That single gesture set Crocodile's pride as a tyrant ablaze.
Humiliation. Naked humiliation.
Hot blood surged straight to his head. He jerked back a step, his face twisting with rage.
A roar, crushed so tight it was almost silent, forced its way out of his throat. His whole body trembled.
"You bastard… are you messing with me?!"
Admitting he couldn't win was one thing.
Standing there to be handled, to be toyed with, to swallow defeat without even understanding how, was impossible.
He, Crocodile, had once matched Douglas Bullet blow for blow.
He had challenged Whitebeard, the tyrant of the seas, and even in defeat had proven his caliber.
And after years of silence in this desert, plotting an Ancient Weapon capable of turning the world upside down…
He was not beneath anyone.
"Desert Spada… no. Sables!"
Crocodile roared, slamming his golden hook into the ground.
The earth answered.
A furious power, made real by his wrath, erupted outward.
Endless sand surged into the sky, swallowing the Rain Dinners casino in an instant.
Before that raw force of nature, solid buildings were nothing but paper.
They were torn apart, shredded, reduced to dust that spiraled into the heavens.
The whole city shook.
Residents and gamblers screamed as they fled, terror smeared across their faces.
They sprinted for the outskirts, and when they looked back, all they saw was a gigantic sand cyclone connecting sky and earth, roaring like a living beast, as if it meant to swallow the entire city whole.
In Alabasta, you could lack water, lack mercy, lack hope.
But you never lacked sand.
"In my kingdom, I am god!"
Crocodile's arrogant, rasping roar boomed from the heart of the storm.
This was absolute terrain advantage.
Here, his power was endless.
What could you possibly do against me, Kael?!
But the reply was not fear.
It was a streak of black-gold light that tore the sky apart.
A slash.
A black-gold slash spanning the heavens, as if it could cleave the firmament clean in two.
It made no sound, yet it carried tyranny that could cut all things.
Where the light passed, the sandstorm split apart as neatly as butter under a red-hot blade, a massive chasm opening through its center.
Sunlight poured through again. The raging sand faltered.
Crocodile's elemental body condensed deep within the storm.
He was uninjured.
Yet cold sweat instantly soaked his temples.
A lazy voice drifted to his ears, crystal clear.
"Oops. Missed."
Those words were so casual, so unbothered, as if he'd merely flicked away a speck of dust.
But to Crocodile, they were more terrifying than any threat.
I'll die.
The thought burst from the deepest part of him, wild and unstoppable, vines tightening around his heart.
Missed?
If that blade hadn't been aimed at the storm but at him…
Crocodile didn't dare continue. His blood nearly froze.
And yet, unexpectedly, after unleashing that heaven-splitting strike, Kael slowly sheathed the black-gold naginata in his hand.
He stood there, letting the sand howl around him.
Black-gold radiance flowed across his body, sealing every grain away.
Tall. Unmoving. Unshaken.
Kael looked at Crocodile, pale-faced and rigid, and spoke slowly.
"You know, little Croc…"
He paused. Those golden eyes swept across the endless desert, his voice calm yet perfectly audible.
"In the desert, besides silicon dioxide…"
"There's also iron."
The instant the words fell, the world answered.
A deep hum rolled across the earth.
Crocodile's pupils exploded wide. He dropped his gaze in disbelief to the sand beneath his feet.
Within the endless yellow sea, specks, threads, sheets of black matter began to separate from between the grains.
They trembled. Gathered.
Then rose, slowly and irresistibly.
Iron sand.
Iron sand hidden in the desert.
Under Kael's will, metal scattered across tens of thousands of square kilometers seemed to hear a king's summons, waking from sleep.
Kael ignored Crocodile's shock.
He simply spread his arms, closed his eyes, and looked almost as if he were embracing the black world he had created.
"Dance."
The sky shook.
Black iron sand roared into motion, gathering behind him into a storm larger, darker, and more dreadful than Crocodile's own sand calamity.
From afar, two tempests, different in color yet equal in overwhelming might, stood against each other in the air, splitting the heavens into two clean halves.
One side, a yellow sandstorm of destruction and natural disaster.
The other, a black tide of iron, the symbol of death and finality.
All of Alabasta seemed to fall into silence under the pressure of those two opposing forces.