Eli Winters looked down at Crocodile, sprawled on the ground like a heap of mud, his face twisted in disbelief as if questioning his very existence. A faint smile curved Eli's lips. Then, he stepped forward, each stride deliberate and calm. The ground beneath seemed to tremble ever so slightly with each step, as if a mighty beast were silently closing in on its prey.
Watching this, Miss Doublefinger and the others tensed instantly, their muscles taut, eyes fixed on Eli. Fear surged through them, worried that at any moment he might unleash a sudden, merciless attack.
Eli, however, barely acknowledged their anxiety. A soft laugh escaped his lips as he spoke calmly.
"Relax. I have no interest in any of you. If I truly wanted to take your lives, no amount of preparation would save you. So, do yourselves a favor and step aside."
Miss Doublefinger swallowed hard, her throat dry, her heart pounding wildly. Eli Winters' reputation had already spread across the vast seas. For someone of her modest strength, facing such a terrifying figure head-on was enough to make anyone tremble.
Yet even gripped by fear, she and the three others did not back down. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, her voice quivering slightly, Miss Doublefinger pleaded,
"Eli… Lord Winters, please spare my boss. Don't hurt him."
Crocodile, still lying on the ground, paid no heed to their loyalty. His expression was as cold and dark as still water. His voice cut through the air with ruthless authority.
"You fools, get out of here! This is nothing for you to worry about."
Eli let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at Crocodile's arrogance.
"What a proud, conceited fellow," he muttered under his breath.
Crocodile was, by nature, a complicated man. He had risen to fame early in life, becoming one of the first Seven Warlords of the Sea through sheer strength and ruthless tactics. Perhaps that premature glory had inflated his ego, leaving him blind to humility.
In his youth, he had even foolishly challenged Whitebeard at the height of his power. The battle had been nothing short of a nightmare, leaving Crocodile utterly defeated. Astonishingly, the indomitable Whitebeard had recognized his potential and offered him a place as an adopted son a gesture meant to honor him.
For the proud Crocodile, such a "gift" was intolerable humiliation, one that fueled his burning resentment.
Though he nursed the sting of that defeat, Crocodile understood one thing clearly: revenge could not come with his current strength. So, ever the cunning strategist, he built the enigmatic Baroque Works. To the outside world, it appeared to be a guild of bounty hunters, but its true goal was far darker: the pursuit of the legendary ancient weapon, Pluton.
Crocodile believed that with Pluton, revenge against Whitebeard would be within reach. To him, his underlings were nothing more than tools, incapable of influencing him. Yet human emotions are complex and unpredictable; even the coldest heart can be touched over time.
Eli's voice broke the silence, calm and open.
"Relax. I never intended to kill him."
Relieved, Miss Doublefinger and the others stepped aside, creating a clear path. Eli walked steadily to Crocodile, who lay on the ground, face pale and eyes vacant, as if hope itself had abandoned him. A frown creased Eli's brow. He looked down with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.
"Just a battle, and it's enough to crush your confidence completely? I must say, I'm disappointed."
Crocodile's fury flared at the words but quickly drained, leaving him silent once more.
Eli's smirk widened, his disdain unmistakable.
"So this is the famed 'Desert Crocodile'? Whatever ruthlessness you had before has vanished, hasn't it?"
Finally, Crocodile lifted his gaze, a faint glint of sharpness returning to his eyes. Through clenched teeth, he growled,
"Hmph. I didn't expect the illustrious Eli Winters to pile insult upon defeat."
Eli shook his head gently, his voice as calm as a placid lake.
"No, it's not that. The truth is, you don't yet possess the power to provoke me."
The sting of humiliation surged through Crocodile, dragging him back to that past defeat by Whitebeard, the memory stabbing him anew.
Anger flared like a wildfire within him, twisting his face. He laughed, dark and chilling.
"Ha! Eli Winters, today you may look down upon me as the victor. But who says the tables won't turn tomorrow?"
Eli only smiled, brimming with confidence and disdain.
"Crocodile, even my companions, if defeated in a battle, would never collapse like this. They would see it as a call to train harder, to improve relentlessly. You, however, after one failure, have become despondent. Your strength has not grown; it has even regressed. Now I understand you lost the heart of a true warrior."
The words hit Crocodile like thunder. Since his defeat by Whitebeard, he had never felt the spark of progress again. The realization cut deep.
For the first time in years, clarity returned. Crocodile's posture straightened, his aura sharpening.
He met Eli's gaze with newfound respect.
"You are right. I have been lost, but I do not need your lessons."
Eli crossed his arms and smiled.
"I am not here to teach. I am here to recruit."
Silence fell. Miss Doublefinger and the others exchanged stunned looks.
Crocodile frowned.
"Recruit me? Why should I agree?"
Eli stepped closer.
"Because you crave strength, because you long to exact revenge on Whitebeard. With me, you will grow stronger. That is far more certain than chasing after some ancient weapon."
Crocodile blinked.
"How do you know I've been seeking an ancient weapon?"
Eli chuckled lightly.
"Don't worry about that. You only need to answer me."
Crocodile thought for a moment.
"And why recruit me? What use am I to you?"
Eli's smile widened.
"Your strategy and abilities are invaluable. I need you to gather intelligence for me."
Crocodile snorted.
"And you trust me not to betray you?"
Eli shook his head.
"I trust that once you see my strength and resolve, you will have no second thoughts."
Finally, Crocodile extended his hand.
"Very well. I will join you."
Eli helped him to his feet, his voice gentle.
"Welcome aboard."
Crocodile's lips twitched. His first 'boss' in life was a man with a dog-like face.
Miss Doublefinger and the others stiffened. They had just fought, and now their boss was someone else's subordinate. What did that make them?
Eli seemed to read their thoughts. Smiling, he looked at Crocodile.
"Crocodile, you will remain in Alabasta, running Baroque Works. But the organization's direction will change. You will focus on gathering intelligence on the World Government and tracking the location of the historical records."
Crocodile nodded without hesitation.
"I know of one such record in Alabasta. It contains information about Pluton, but despite my efforts, I could never locate it."
Eli smiled knowingly.
"It is hidden in the Burial Hall of the Royal Tomb, west of the palace."
Crocodile slapped his forehead.
"So that's why I could never find it. Buried in the Royal Tomb."
Eli then asked,
"Do you join us to the capital, or stay with your team?"
Crocodile considered.
"I will stay. Baroque Works needs adjustments."
Eli teased lightly.
"Not chasing Pluton anymore?"
Crocodile's gaze was firm.
"No. I know my path now. Pluton is no longer useful to me."
Eli retrieved a specially marked Den Den Mushi and a pendant from storage and handed them over.
"This snail has a space marker; use it to contact us or open a portal to our ship. This pendant is a standard team storage device, ten cubic meters. It's yours once you join."
Crocodile's hand lingered over the items, touched.
"I will carry out the tasks you assign."
Eli beamed.
"I know you will." He patted Big Pan's shoulder and waved goodbye as he led his team toward the capital of Alabasta.
Though they lacked camels or fast ducks, Miss Doublefinger generously provided a rough compass to guide them.
To reach Alubarna, they would first pass through the desert trade town of Yuba, a young oasis city still thriving under Crocodile's unthreatened rule.