Luffy was not with them.
He had been there—then he was gone. The space between those two moments lasted about three seconds on the desert road, just long enough for Luffy to sense Crocodile behind him. This was not a situation he could accept, so he spun around and strode back into the desert alone.
Liam had been watching the moment approach and did not move to prevent it.
The calculation he made during the race told him everything. This fight was inevitable, and Luffy would survive it. That survival would matter in ways that stopping the fight never could. Luffy's return to the desert was his own choice, shaped by his sense of self and what he could not ignore. To intervene would mean explaining things Liam was not ready to reveal, but it would not have mattered. Luffy had already chosen.
He kept moving with the crew.
---
The desert between Rainbase and Alubarna had a personality all of its own. More than endless heat or blank sand, it was a landscape full of strong opinions about travelers in a rush. The ground shifted beneath every step. The sun, ever circling, seemed to glare from new angles as you moved east. All the while, the wildlife watched in silent judgment.
The crew pressed on at a pace born of training and urgency. They moved faster than they normally could have managed. But that came at a price. You could see it in their breath and in how their bodies moved after two hours. Their effort was honest—something that could not be faked or set aside, no matter how much it hurt.
Nami told them where to go. She always navigated — the route in her head was the most reliable part of their situation. She held it there with focused precision, treating the map as an internalized reality rather than a tool.
---
The desert fight ran in the background of everything else like a thread pulled taut.
Crocodile did not rush. He had no reason to. Instead, he let Luffy come at him with full force, unleashing every ounce of energy against an enemy that could not be struck. The rubber body bounced and stretched; fists flew and feet kicked—each blow passing through sand that simply reformed, each kick meeting air that shifted to avoid it. Luffy fought the desert itself, calling it a battle. Crocodile, meanwhile, watched with the weary contempt of someone let down too many times, the disappointment all too familiar.
Then the right hand.
Luffy's mind lagged behind his body's alarm. The desiccation was swift and merciless. Moisture fled from the touch outward with the practiced precision of a power that had mastered this art. His skin tightened. His movements dulled. Weakness crept into his joints before he could even grasp what was being stolen from him.
Crocodile buried him under the sand.
It was not a dramatic burial, just a practical one—enough sand to trap a rubber man who could no longer break free. The sand was packed with cold efficiency. Crocodile walked away, utterly unhurried. The matter was settled in his mind.
In the dark under the sand, in the heat and the stillness, Luffy had one thing that had not been taken.
Toto had spent the night digging, keeping his town alive by sheer refusal to quit. One shovelful after another, he would not end the drought. But surrender would have meant admitting defeat, and he was not a man who did that. He poured what little he found into a small bottle and handed it to a stranger who looked like he needed hope more than water.
Luffy poured it on himself.
The moisture his body craved—the bare minimum for a rubber man to survive—came in that small bottle. It was almost not enough. But it was just enough. He did not rise or leap back into battle. He stayed buried, letting exhaustion claim him beneath the sand.
But he was alive.
---
Pell found him.
The royal guardian of Alabasta possessed a falcon's Devil Fruit. He could not swim, but in the air, he became extraordinary. He was swift, guided by a falcon's instincts sharpened by human resolve and a guardian's duty. He searched with the desperation of someone who had given his life to this kingdom. When he found Luffy buried in the sand, he still had the strength to carry him.
---
Karoo came out of the approach to Alubarna's gates with Vivi on his back. Officer Agents waited ahead of them.
He knew they were waiting. Vivi knew too. There was no way around that that would get them to the gates in time. The only path was straight through. He ran at the speed of a duck that had already chosen to run before its feet hit the ground.
The first blow struck from the left; he took it and kept going, head down, legs pumping. The next hit landed on his back—but still he pressed forward. Every impact was real, each one costing him something. He was not shielded or protected and certainly not faster than the pain. He was committed; his only calculation was whether Vivi would make it through. As long as he kept moving, she would.
So he kept moving.
Vivi's hands gripped his feathers. Her voice was urgent in his ear. The gates loomed closer. The blows kept coming. He drove his legs onward because that was all he had left to give—and he would give it all.
Vivi made it through the gates.
---
The crew reached Alubarna after a charge already spent. The gates stood open. Officer Agents scattered through the streets and squares. The city thrummed with the tension of a place bracing for battle.
The crew split up without needing orders. The situation itself dictated who went where. Zoro moved toward Mr. 1, Nami toward Miss Doublefinger, and Sanji to his own fight. Chopper and Usopp each headed off. They moved with the assurance of a crew that had practiced for chaos.
Liam moved through the city at a different angle.
He did not choose a single opponent. Instead, he took the role of someone who had seen enough battles to know that the unexpected decided everything—the moment when a crewmate faltered or when separate fights collided into chaos. He wanted to stay mobile, ready to go wherever he was needed most, not locked into one fight while the city's fate shifted around him.
He trusted his crew. He also intended to be where he was needed.
The city unfolded around him—vast and ancient, echoing with the noise of a war that had not officially begun but had simmered for years. Smoke from the rebel army drifted on the horizon. The people of Alubarna were either inside or outside, powerless now to change their fate.
The Officer Agents were waiting for the Straw Hats.