Shock rippled through the Baroque Works ship. None of them could believe what they had just heard.
This wasn't like Crocodile at all.
The man they had followed the mastermind behind years of covert manipulation in Alabasta, the Warlord of the Sea who carried himself like an emperor was surrendering?
Becoming someone else's subordinate?
Mr. 2 Bon Clay blinked in disbelief. For a moment, he even suspected that this might be a trick perhaps a doppelgänger or an imposter using a Copy-Copy Fruit–like ability.
But the voice was real. The aura, the presence this was Crocodile.
Mr. 3, arms folded and brow furrowed, spoke up. "Boss… who could possibly make a pirate like you submit?"
Crocodile looked across his assembled officers, his expression unreadable.
"You've all heard of him," he said flatly. "Ayr the legendary pirate."
Silence fell, then gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Ayr?!"
"The Marine boogeyman?!"
"The one even the Yonko don't want to cross?!"
"The man who survived being surrounded by three Admirals?!"
Suddenly, Crocodile's surrender didn't seem like shame it felt like strategic genius. His men, once confused, now looked at him with a newfound awe.
"Boss, to be connected with someone like that you're incredible!"
Crocodile, visibly annoyed, resisted the urge to scoff. So quick to switch sides with your flattery, he thought bitterly. Is that all it takes just a bigger shadow than mine?
But not everyone was swept up in the admiration.
Daz Bones, the ever-silent Number One, stepped forward. His voice was calm but sharp. "The boss wouldn't kneel to anyone without a fight."
He glanced at the heavy bandages wrapping Crocodile's midsection and arms. "Looking at those wounds… you lost to Ayr in a real battle, didn't you?"
The others fell quiet again, their gazes drawn to Crocodile's injuries. Suddenly, the cheerful narrative in their heads a heroic duel, a clash of titans, mutual respect began forming.
Mr. 3 choked up. "It must have been epic! A fight of honor between two kings of the sea!"
But Crocodile shook his head.
"Don't romanticize it."
His voice was blunt, eyes cold. "There was no epic clash. I didn't last five seconds."
"I was cut down. One strike."
The silence that followed was deeper than before. Not a whisper dared to break it.
No one had expected that kind of honesty from Crocodile a man known for pride, power, and never showing weakness. The reality crashed into them like a storm: Crocodile, a Shichibukai recognized by the World Government, hadn't even been in the same league as Ayr.
The legend of Ayr grew tenfold in their minds.
Crocodile turned toward the sea, the horizon stretching endlessly ahead. He already knew the truth: from here on, his former identity as the leader of Baroque Works meant nothing. Under Ayr, he was just another blade no longer the one commanding others, but one who would follow.
He faced his crew again.
"I've told you the truth. I won't sugarcoat it. I was defeated. I chose to follow Ayr."
"You don't have to come with me. That choice is yours. I won't force any of you."
He gestured calmly to the gangplank. "If anyone wants to leave, do it now."
But no one moved.
Not Mr. 1. Not Mr. 2. Not even the ever-pragmatic Mr. 3. The same crew that once worshipped his strength now looked at him with a different kind of respect not for winning, but for enduring.
Despite his defeat, Crocodile hadn't lost their loyalty.