The world was fire and fury.
Luffy's body, a rubber bullet of pure desperation, shot headfirst toward the flickering candlelight. The rope Usopp had flung sang with tension.
"NOW, CARUE!" Luffy roared.
The duck yanked. The rope snapped upward, and Luffy's forehead connected not with wax, but with the flaming crest of Mr. 3's gelled hair. A shower of embers rained down onto the ornate candelabra.
Whoosh.
Blue flame erupted, swallowing the wax structure whole. The Candle Champion, a monument to Mr. 3's arrogance, gave a silent, melting scream, its features dissolving into grotesque tears of wax.
"MY MASTERPIECE!" Mr. 3 shrieked, his voice cracking. He didn't hesitate. He turned and fled into the dark, gnarled woods, his pride left to puddle on the ground. "This isn't over, you primitive!"
"Quack!" Carue took off in pursuit, a feathered bolt of vengeance.
The clearing, for a heartbeat, was silent save for the crackle of the new, liberating fire.
Then, the rage of the remaining Baroque Works agents ignited.
"You… you insects!" Miss Valentine's pretty face contorted into a mask of pure hate. She snapped open her parasol. "Ten Thousand Kilo Guillotine!"
She rocketed into the air, a blonde angel of death silhouetted against the moon, before plummeting straight down toward Usopp, her heel aimed like a spear at his heart. Usopp could only stare, paralyzed.
"Not today!"
From the wall of flame, two figures burst forth. Nami, her clothes smudged with soot, swung her Clima-Tact like a bat, connecting with Miss Valentine's side mid-descent. At the same moment, Vivi, tears of relief and fury streaking through the grime on her face, drove her peacock slashers upward.
"You hurt my friends!" Vivi cried out.
Miss Valentine was knocked off course, crashing into the dirt with a grunt.
"A cheap shot!" Mr. 5 snarled, leveling his pistol at the two women. "Die with dignity!"
His finger tightened on the trigger.
"EAT THIS!" Usopp's voice, trembling but defiant, rang out. His slingshot thwacked.
Mr. 5 didn't flinch. With a smirk, he caught the small projectile in his mouth. "Fool. My body neutralizes any explosion. You've just given me ammunition—"
His smirk died, replaced by a choked gurgle. His face flushed a violent, sweating red. His eyes bulged.
"W-What… is this… inferno?!" he gasped, clutching his throat.
Usopp grinned, wiping his nose. "That, Mr. Fancy Suit, was my Special Edition Carolina Reaper Fire Sauce Star! How's the flavor?"
"YOU LITTLE—" Mr. 5's words dissolved into coughs. Rage, hotter than the sauce, overwhelmed him. "Fine… If I'm going down… I'm taking this entire island with me!" He lunged, his body wrapping around Usopp in a vice-like grip. "My ultimate art… SELF-DESTRUCT MEGA-BLAST!"
Usopp screamed, struggling against the tightening hold. "Let go! You're sweaty and you're going to blow up!"
"Say goodbye to your crew!" Mr. 5 hissed, his body beginning to glow a dangerous, pulsating red.
A shadow fell over them.
The fire behind them didn't just part; it was cut.
Zoro emerged, Wado Ichimonji gleaming with reflected flame, the other two swords already sheathed. He didn't run. He simply walked, his expression one of profound annoyance.
"You talk too much," Zoro said.
The air sang.
A single, clean slash. Mr. 5's eyes rolled back, his grip went slack, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious and defused. The glowing light snuffed out.
Usopp collapsed, hyperventilating. "Z-Zoro! You… you cut him!"
"I cut the tension in his muscles," Zoro grunted, looking at the still-burning forest. "He'll live. Unfortunately."
A new shadow, vast and imposing, fell over the group. They looked up.
Brogy, the giant, stood free, Dorry's massive sword finally dislodged from his hand. Fresh blood dripped from his palm, but his eyes were clear, fixed on the distant woods where Mr. 3 had fled and where Carue's furious quacks were fading.
"Little warriors," Brogy's voice boomed, heavy with a century of grief and a newfound, fragile hope. "Your courage burns bright. But the battle is not won. Two serpents still slither in my forest."
His massive finger pointed. "One flees. And the other… the painter of treachery… she watches."
*
Deep in the woods, Luffy skidded to a halt, Carue waddling frantically beside him.
The clearing was wrong.
Dozens of Mr. 3s stood in a silent, smirking circle, each an identical copy, each holding a tiny, perfect candle flame.
"Well, well, Straw Hat," fifty voices chorused, the sound unnerving and echoing. "Can your simple, instinct-driven mind puzzle this out? Which is the real me? Choose wrong, and this game ends."
Luffy's eyes darted from one to another, his brow furrowed. The real Mr. 3, clinging to the shadows of a giant fern behind him, slithered forward without a sound. A long, wicked wax knife solidified in his hand. His real smile was one of triumph.
Instinct is for animals, he thought, inching closer to Luffy's exposed back. And animals are slaughtered.
He raised the knife, poised to drive it between the rubber boy's shoulder blades.
Luffy's foot lashed out in a blur.
THWACK.
It connected squarely with the face of the Mr. 3 behind him. The agent's glasses shattered as he was launched backward, crashing through his own wax duplicates, which splattered harmlessly.
"Huh?" the real Mr. 3 groaned from the ground, utterly dazed.
Luffy retracted his leg, not even looking. "You smell like panic and cheap hair gel," he said simply. "And you talked too much. The real one was the only one who was quiet."
Carue, meanwhile, had been scanning the trees. His sharp eyes caught a flicker of color—a hint of a yellow hat behind a thick trunk far up the ridge. Miss Goldenweek.
"QUACK!" he yelled, a battle cry, and took off like a shot up the slope.
From the distant tree, a small, startled gasp echoed, followed by the frantic rustle of retreat.
*
In the eerie quiet of Mr. 3's abandoned cottage, Sanji set his teacup down with a definitive click.
"Enough of this," he muttered to himself, the elegance gone, replaced by simmering anxiety. "Nami-san is out there. I've been sitting in a villain's parlor like a guest."
He stood, straightening his suit, and headed for the door.
Briiiing-briiiing… Briiiing-briiiing…
He froze. The sound was muffled, coming from a large, woven basket in the corner.
A Den Den Mushi.
Sanji's eyes narrowed. He strode over, lifted the lid, and picked up the receiver. He affected a light, airy tone. "Hello, you've reached the Secret Garden Café, how may I direct your call?"
A deadly silence answered him. Then, a voice, cold, smooth, and laced with an authority that made the air feel thin, came through.
"Cease your idiotic charade, Agent 3. Your scheduled report is twelve minutes late. The client is impatient. Status. Now."
Sanji's playful facade vanished. His grip tightened on the receiver. This was no underling.
"My apologies," Sanji said, his voice dropping, losing its false cheer. "The connection is poor. To whom am I speaking?"
The voice on the other end grew colder, a glacial fury barely contained.
"You ask me for identification?" A short, dangerous pause. "This is your superior. This is Sir Crocodile."
Sanji's blood ran cold. The Warlord of the Desert. The mastermind behind everything in Alabasta. The man who had brought tears to Vivi's eyes.
"Now," Crocodile's voice hissed, the sound like sand scraping over bone. "Report. Or explain why I should not have your entire cell dissolved where you stand."
Sanji's mind raced. One wrong word, and everything was over. He took a breath, about to improvise, when he heard it—a faint, familiar voice shouting in triumph, followed by the thunderous crash of a giant's footsteps, coming from the direction of the forest.
The sound carried perfectly through the open window… and directly into the Den Den Mushi's sensitive microphone.
On the other end of the line, the silence became absolute, suffocating.
Then, Sir Crocodile spoke, each word a shard of ice.
"...I see. So the Straw Hats are there with you."
The line didn't go dead. It just hummed with a promise of utter annihilation.
And in the basket, beneath the Den Den Mushi, Sanji's eyes caught the glint of a small, permanent Transponder Snail, its lens focused directly on his frozen face.
The call was on video.
(⭐ If you love the journey, please support us by collecting this story, adding it to your library, and leaving a rating! Your support keeps the adventure alive!)