The sun beat down on the square of Alubarna, but the heat was nothing compared to the fever burning in the rebels' hearts. They surged forward, weapons raised, ready to claim the capital that had starved their families.
But what they saw made them stumble.
White flags.
Dozens of them, fluttering from the palace walls. Royal soldiers stood with empty hands raised, their weapons discarded at their feet. And at their front stood Kohza, his own white cloth held high, his face etched with exhaustion and hope.
"Stop!" Kohza's voice cracked across the square. "The fighting ends here! It's over!"
The rebel vanguard halted, confusion rippling through their ranks. A burly man with a scar across his cheek lowered his sword an inch. "Kohza? What trick is this?"
"No trick!" Kohza took a step forward, his eyes pleading. "The king never betrayed us! We've been manipulated! The drought, the weapons—it was all to make us destroy each other!"
He turned slightly, gesturing to the royal soldiers behind him. "They lay down their arms! We can talk! We can—"
The gunshot was a sharp, cruel punctuation.
Kohza's body jerked. A red blossom flowered on his chest. He looked down, stunned, as his knees buckled.
"Kohza!" a royal guard screamed, rushing toward his fallen captain.
But from within the royal ranks, three soldiers lowered smoking rifles. Their faces were blank, their eyes cold.
"Traitors!" the royal guard roared, grabbing one of the shooters. "Why? He was making peace!"
The shooter smiled—a thin, ghastly thing. "Peace is bad for business."
Across the square, similar shots rang out. Two rebel commanders fell, cut down by their own men—men whose faces suddenly looked like strangers.
Chaos erupted.
"They're killing their own!" a rebel yelled.
"The royals attacked first!" another screamed.
"FOR ALABASTA!" a voice bellowed, and the dam broke.
The rebels charged.
Vivi watched from the palace wall, her heart shattering. "No! Stop! Can't you see?!"
But her voice was lost in the roar of thousands.
Between the two armies, the ground stirred. Sand rose in a great curtain, swirling, thickening, until neither side could see the other—only shadows moving in a beige hell.
More gunshots. More screams. Royal and rebel falling together, cut down by their own comrades—Baroque Works agents, hidden in plain sight, ensuring the slaughter continued.
"Please!" Vivi begged, tears cutting through the dust on her face. "Listen to me!"
Beside her, Miss All Sunday materialized from the stone, her expression unreadable. "Such determination, Princess. But your voice cannot reach them now. Some distances are too great to cross with words alone."
King Cobra grabbed his daughter's arm. "Vivi, we must go! Crocodile is coming!"
"No." Vivi pulled away, her eyes fixed on the carnage below. "There's still time. Fifteen minutes until the bomb explodes. If I can just get to the clock tower—"
"Fifteen minutes?" Crocodile's voice was like dry bones grinding together.
He emerged from the sand itself, reforming beside them, his golden hook gleaming in the harsh light. "You knew. And yet you didn't tell them."
He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her. "Why? To prevent panic? How noble. You could have saved thousands by screaming the truth, but you chose silence. You chose the chance to save everyone over the certainty of saving some."
Vivi stood her ground, though her knees trembled. "I will save them all."
Crocodile laughed—a low, rasping sound. "Two years. Two years you spent infiltrating my organization, playing spy, gathering information. I must commend your dedication."
His hand shot out, fingers closing around her throat. He lifted her effortlessly, her feet dangling above the stone.
"But this is where idealism meets reality, little princess," he hissed, his face inches from hers. "Dreams require power to become real. And you have none."
He carried her to the edge of the wall, the hundred-foot drop yawning below. The sounds of battle rose like a tide.
"You cannot save this country," Crocodile whispered. "You can only watch it burn."
He opened his hand.
Vivi fell.
The wind screamed in her ears. The ground rushed up to meet her. She closed her eyes, a single thought flashing through her mind—I'm sorry.
But the impact never came.
Something caught her.
Arms, solid and real, wrapped around her mid-air, halting her descent. She gasped, looking up into a face she never expected to see again.
Straw hat. Grinning.
"Missed me?" Luffy said.
Above them, on the wall, Crocodile's smug expression shattered into pure, unadulterated shock.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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