Without a moment's hesitation, the two monsters charged at each other once more, neither one holding back.
ZEESH—BOOOOOM!
The clash of their blades sent a shockwave so powerful that it carved a trench into the beach and sent a plume of sand soaring into the air.
Crocodile instinctively drove her golden hook deep into the ground to steady herself, but the force still pushed her back several steps.
"...Unbelievable," she muttered, clicking her tongue and raising a hand to shield her face.
Dragon's green cloak whipped around him like a wild storm, and even the towering Kuma had to shift his massive stance to keep his balance.
In the eye of the storm, Jack ducked under a horizontal slash from Yoru that could have taken the head off a sea king, immediately countering with a rising cut aimed at Mihawk's shoulder.
Clang!
Mihawk twisted his wrist with a fluid, almost graceful motion, the massive black blade transitioning effortlessly into another guard.
Jack pivoted on his heel, using the momentum to launch another blinding strike. Blocked again. Their swords moved with such speed that a constant shower of sparks erupted between them.
Neither uttered a word. Neither cracked a smile.
They were completely absorbed in the exhilarating rhythm of their duel.
BOOM!
Another clash. Another shockwave. This one reached Dragon himself, causing the ground beneath him to tremble. The revolutionary leader took a quiet step back.
"We should get moving."
Crocodile clicked her tongue, clearly irritated. "I hate to admit it, but I agree... let's go."
As the remaining spectators gradually pulled back from the battlefield, the sound of clashing steel continued unabated, each strike resonating throughout the enigmatic island.
High above the fray, perched on a rocky cliff, Van Augur adjusted his crosshair glasses.
"...Captain's getting better," Augur remarked, his tone as flat as ever.
He watched the duel for a moment longer, his sharp sniper instincts kicking in. His gaze shifted from the beach to the twisted, blood-red tree nearby, scanning its branches.
Perched silently on one of those branches was a bird.
Its feathers were a rich crimson, and its eyes glowed with an eerie, piercing scarlet. What was most peculiar, though, was that it wasn't focused on the intense battle below.
It was staring right at him.
Augur frowned. The bird tilted its head, its crimson eyes catching the glint of his scope. For what felt like an eternity, they remained still, locked in a strange standoff.
Then, with a ghostly spread of its wings, the bizarre bird disappeared into the dense forest.
Augur felt a stir of unease. "...Weird."
He glanced back at the beach. Jack was fully engaged with Mihawk, while Crocodile and the others were completely absorbed in the fight.
No one had noticed the bird.
Quietly, Augur slung Senriku over his shoulder, his long coat billowing as he stepped off the beach. "If it's scouting..." he mused, "I'd like to know for whom."
Without a word to anyone, he slipped silently into the trees, leaving behind only the gently swaying branches that hinted at his passage. Crocodile remained blissfully unaware, her focus solely on the duel.
Meanwhile, much deeper in the heart of the island...
"He's heavier than he looks!" Pintel gasped, his face turning a shade of purple from the effort.
"I told you, it's because he drank all the damn rum!" Ragetti shot back, straining as they dragged the unconscious, snoring form of Joshamee Gibbs between them.
"That doesn't make people heavier, you fool!"
"It should!"
"Both of you, move it!" Emporio Ivankov barked from the front, his massive purple afro cutting through the fog like a lighthouse. "We need shelter, darlings! Hormones can only do so much."
The mist thickened around them, reducing visibility to barely twenty meters. But as they stumbled forward, the uneven jungle floor gradually transformed... into stone roads.
Pintel blinked, glancing down. "...Road?"
"No shit, dipshit." Ragetti said.
Ivankov glanced around, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. "...Is that a town?"
From the swirling white fog, stunning old buildings began to take shape. There were charming wooden houses with immaculate roofs, quaint little workshops, and wind chimes that danced gently in the still air.
Brightly colored banners fluttered between the rooftops, and nearly every wall was adorned with vibrant paintings.
It was serene—almost too serene.
"...Hello?!" Pintel shouted.
Silence. They ventured further into this strange paradise until a new sound caught their attention.
Music. A violin. A soft, haunting melody floated gracefully through the deserted streets.
Drawn by the sound, the group poured into a small square.
In front of an easel stood an elderly man clad in an array of colorful clothing, splattered with paint. His long silver hair cascaded past his shoulders, and a neatly trimmed beard framed a face that was both weathered and gentle.
A wide-brimmed artist's hat shaded his kind eyes, which were fixed intently on his canvas. Surrounding him were half-finished sculptures, paintings of cheerful townsfolk, and a collection of lovingly crafted wooden toys.
With a remarkably steady hand, he added another delicate brushstroke to the canvas before speaking without turning around.
"...Visitors." His voice was calm, warm, and completely unfazed. "I haven't had real visitors... in quite a while."
Slowly, he turned, setting his brush down. His sharp eyes immediately fell on the limp form of the unconscious Gibbs.
"Oh dear..." The old man offered a courteous bow. "Your friend seems to be in quite a predicament. Please, bring him inside."
Pintel let out a huge sigh of relief, nearly dropping Gibbs in the process. "Oh, thank the heavens! You can help him, right, old timer?"
The man smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I can certainly give it a try, young man." He adjusted his hat. "My name... is Red."
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AN: Short chapter. But I had to end it at the reveal.