Zino gathered the crew at the edge of the Yuba desert, the sun barely risen over the dunes. The early light cast long shadows, and tension hung in the cool morning air.
He turned to face them, his tone serious.
"We'll be splitting into three groups from here."
Everyone looked up, listening closely.
"Group One," Zino began, "will consist of Vivi, Zoro, Gin, Hibari, Binko, Kruz, and Stev. Your mission: intercept the rebel army before they reach Alubarna."
"What? We're going after the rebels?" Stev blinked. "That's a whole army."
"That's why I'm sending the heavy hitters with you," Zino replied calmly. "Zoro and Gin can hold their own. Hibari's precision and Binko's speed will help detect threats. Stev, your gadgets might come in handy if the rebels need a little 'persuasion'—without hurting them. Kruz will assist with coordination."
Vivi looked hesitant, but Zino gave her a reassuring nod. "You're the only one who can speak to Koza. You might still be able to stop this before it becomes a war."
"Group Two," Zino continued, "Sanji, Alvida, Nojiko, Mikita, Ussop, Nami, Kaya, Chloris, and Moris—you're heading to Alubarna. Your goal is to reach the king's camp and prevent him from issuing a formal declaration of war."
Sanji nodded firmly. "Understood."
"Wait. Karoo has already departed to inform the Vivi's father, the King. Shouldn't it help stop the king from issuing war?"
"That's not enough. The king's under pressure," Zino said. "He's being pushed by false intel. Baroque Works agents are likely embedded in his advisors, feeding lies and creating tension."
Nojiko glanced at her sister. "We'll keep him safe. And make sure the truth gets through."
Zino nodded. "That's why you need strength, negotiation, and support in this group. Sanji, you're the head of this group. Nami, you're the strategist. Kaya, your diplomacy could help too. Chloris and Moris, your connection with nature may be useful in ways we don't expect."
Everyone then looked at Zino. Alvida asked, "Everyone is assigned, except for you. Which group are you joining?"
"Neither." Zino shook his head. He said. "I am group 3, heading to Rainbase."
A beat of stunned silence followed.
"What? You're going alone to Rainbase?" Ussop asked, half rising.
"Yes," Zino said simply.
"But Crocodile is there," Nojiko said, eyes narrowing.
"I know, and that's exactly why I'm heading there." Zino replied. "Rainbase isn't the battlefield. It's just where Crocodile's hiding. If I can keep him there—stall him, distract him, or best-case scenario, defeat him—he won't be able to direct the chaos elsewhere."
"Still, it's risky," Nami frowned. "What if there are other agents with him?"
Zino smirked. "Then I run."
"You're planning to run?" Alvida raised an eyebrow.
"Only if it gets too much," Zino said with a grin. "No one's faster than me when I'm serious about escaping. Trust me."
Some of them chuckled. The mood lightened just a little.
Zino's tone shifted again—calm, but firm.
"Remember this: Baroque Works agents are likely embedded in both the rebel army and the king's side. That's how they've kept this conflict alive and brewing. If you find them, take them out quietly. The fewer pieces Crocodile has on the board, the better our odds."
Everyone nodded. It made sense now—the division, the urgency.
Zino looked over his friends one more time. "You may run into the numbered agents. Don't underestimate them."
"We won't," Mikita said, cracking her knuckles. "But maybe you should worry about yourself."
Zino smiled. "I'm not worried. I just want to make one thing clear—beat them down. Hard. Don't give them the chance to regroup."
He turned toward the horizon.
"Let's move out."
With that, the three groups parted ways—each with a mission that could decide the fate of Alabasta.
...
The capital city of Alubarna lay quiet under the soft glow of dawn, the first light of the sun creeping over the desert horizon. A gentle breeze stirred the golden sands, and the palace towers cast faint, stretching shadows across the square. Inside one of the palace chambers, the air was heavy with tension, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
Royal commanders Chaka and Pell sat at a heavy wooden table, poring over maps and troop movements. The faint echo of distant drums and the shuffle of anxious guards outside had marked an emergency for hours — but now it had become worse.
A young soldier burst into the room, breathless, face pale with urgency.
"Commanders! It's urgent — the king has disappeared!"
Both Chaka and Pell froze in their seats.
"What do you mean 'disappeared'?" Pell asked sharply, standing up. His voice carried the gravity of the moment. "When did this happen?"
The soldier's voice quivered. "Just a short while ago — we found his chambers empty, the royal steed unmoved, all guards accounted for. But His Majesty, Nefertari Cobra, is gone."
A heavy silence fell. Outside, the sun already fully appeared giving heat to the desert, but inside the palace the air grew colder with dread.
Chaka clenched his fists. "If the king vanishes now…"
Pell's voice was grim. "It leaves the throne, the army — everything — vulnerable. The rebels will take this as their cue to strike."
They exchanged a grave look: one that said they knew their worst fears were unfolding.
"Gather the guards. Seal the gates. No one leaves the city without my order," Chaka commanded. "And begin searching immediately — every air crew, patrol, squadron. His Majesty must be found."
The soldier saluted and rushed out. The two commanders nodded to each other, and in that moment they became two parts of a single machine set into motion.
Even after hours of searching the palace, its grounds, the nearby ditches and courtyards, no trace of the king was found. The city gates were fortified, troops mobilized, but the heart of Alubarna remained silent.
Just as late morning began to settle, a royal guard returned to the chamber, urgency etched in his posture.
"Commanders," he gasped, "we have new intelligence on the king's whereabouts."
Chaka and Pell both turned at once.
"Where?" Pell asked sharply.
The guard bowed deeply. "His Majesty has been reportedly seen in the port town of Nanohana."
"What?!"
...
Nanohana Port – Mid Morning
The morning sun already risen above the desert horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling port town of Nanohana. The air was turning hot, tension simmered just beneath the surface. A large crowd had gathered in the town square, their murmurs echoing through the streets.
At the center of the commotion stood none other than King Nefertari Cobra, surrounded by a formation of royal guards. His regal posture and flowing robes made him unmistakable, but something about his presence today felt different—off. His expression was grave, his eyes heavy with a burden no one could yet name.
The townspeople whispered among themselves, confusion thick in the air.
"Why is the king here?"
"Is something happening in Alubarna?"
"I heard the rebels are coming…"
Then, the king stepped forward, raising a hand for silence. The crowd quieted almost instantly, eyes fixed on their ruler.
"My citizens of Alabasta," King Cobra began, his voice solemn but strong, "I come before you today not as your king, but as a man burdened by regret. I owe you the truth."
He paused, then bowed deeply, stunning the crowd into silence.
"I confess," he said, his voice barely wavering, "I am the one who ordered the import of Dance Powder into Alabasta."
A ripple of gasps swept through the crowd.
"What…? Did he just say…?"
"Wait! That can't be right!"
"No! Say it's not true, Your Majesty!"
One elderly man cried out, "Your Majesty, please—take back your words! We never doubted you!"
But King Cobra remained bowed. "I know this truth may sound selfish, but I did what I believed necessary. The rains had forsaken the capital, and in desperation, I sought a way to bring them back. That is why I authorized the use of Dance Powder."
The crowd erupted in shouts, confusion, and heartbreak. Some were angry, others simply disbelieving.
"How could you, King Cobra?!" someone cried.
"Why let the other cities suffer?!"
Then, a voice cut through the chaos.
"STOP!"
All heads turned as a figure dashed into the square.
It was Koza, the passionate leader of the rebel army, his face flushed with urgency and disbelief. He shoved his way through the guards and stepped forward.
"I don't believe you!" Koza shouted. "You would never do such a thing! I've known you since I was a child—you taught me justice, compassion, truth!"
King Cobra turned slightly, locking eyes with Koza. But he didn't say a word.
Koza stood trembling, his voice raw from shouting, disbelief painted across his face. "This isn't you! There must be a mistake—this is someone's trick! Your Majesty, please… take back your words. Tell them it wasn't you who used the Dance Powder. Tell them the truth!"
For a brief moment, the air was thick with silence. Civilians held their breath, as if hoping the next words from their king would be a denial. A rejection of the claim. A return to sense.
But before anyone could speak—
Bang!
A sudden gunshot shattered the stillness.
The sound echoed like thunder, and in the blink of an eye, Koza staggered backward, clutching his side. Blood seeped between his fingers as he collapsed to one knee, groaning in pain.
Gasps and screams erupted from the gathered crowd.
"Koza!" someone cried.
"What's going on?!"
The soldiers stood calmly, as if nothing happened. Even when they saw Koza was bleeding, they seemed to feel nothing about bit.
Koza winced, raising his gaze toward the so-called king.
"Why…?" he rasped, pain tightening his voice. "Why would you let this happen?"
The man who wore King Cobra's face stared coldly down at him. "You have no right to stop me," he said flatly. "I've already told you. I must apologize—for using Dance Powder, and for the suffering it caused."
Koza's vision blurred as blood dripped down his arm, but the pain in his heart outweighed the wound. "No… I don't believe it… You would never…"
Tears formed in the corner of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
From the crowd, a child's voice rose in fury.
"So it really was you! You're the one who used the Dance Powder and destroyed Erumalu!"
A young boy burst from the bystanders, eyes red with anger, tears streaking his face. He pointed directly at the king, trembling.
"Because of you, my sister died! Our village dried up, and everyone suffered! My friends—my family—they're gone!"
The man impersonating Cobra narrowed his eyes and looked at the boy.
"I HATE YOU!" the child screamed. "I'll never forgive you! I'll avenge my sister! I—!"
Thud!
Without warning, "Cobra" lashed out with a swift kick, slamming his foot into the boy's chest and sending him flying across the square. He hit the ground hard, rolling several times before stopping, unmoving.
The crowd gasped in horror.
Some screamed.
Others covered their mouths, eyes wide with disbelief.
What kind of king would do such a thing?
"Erumalu's destruction was just the beginning," the imposter declared coldly. "If that was my way of apologizing to them… then perhaps the only way to apologize to you all—"
He swept his gaze across the terrified townspeople.
"—is to destroy this port too."
Panic broke out in full force.
People began screaming and fleeing, while guards stood confused and unsure, some frozen in place.
Among the chaos, Koza looked up one last time, the pain in his eyes not from the bullet wound—but from betrayal.
This… this wasn't King Cobra.
He was unable to believe it. The man he admired his whole life should not be someone like this. The disbelief turning into a big question.
Just why?