The tension was thick in the air as the Numbered agents of Baroque Works observed the Orca group, each one calculating, analyzing, sizing up their opponents. From the other side, the Orcas returned the same scrutiny. Every glance, every twitch of muscle was noted.
"Looks like we have troublemakers here," Zoro muttered under his breath, the edges of his mouth tightening. His eyes flicked over the approaching agents, estimating distance and potential attack vectors.
"And they won't let us pass without a fight," Gin added, a grim determination settling over his features.
Vivi's worried eyes darted between the two sides. "No… we need to reach the rebel army. We can't afford to get delayed," she said, her voice carrying the weight of urgency.
Zoro and Gin exchanged a quick, understanding glance. No words were needed—they knew what had to be done.
"Princess, we'll open a path for you," Zoro said, drawing both of his swords in a fluid motion, the steel glinting as the sun hit the blades. "Move forward the moment you see an opening. Don't wait for us to finish—it could be dangerous."
Gin twirled his tonfas silently, his eyes narrowing in anticipation. "We'll handle them," he said, voice low but confident.
Stev froze, panic briefly flickering across his features. "Wait… we're going to fight?" he asked, his voice tight with fear.
Binko gripped his daggers tightly, knuckles white. "This is unavoidable," he muttered, determination overcoming hesitation.
Hibari adjusted his grip on his rifle, the barrel pointed at the enemy with the precision of a seasoned marksman. "I just need to make my shots count," he said, eyes cold and focused.
Kruz sighed, the slightest tension in his shoulders betraying his unease. "I don't really like violence," he said quietly, "but it looks like I might be knocked unconscious anyway. Might as well do something useful."
Vivi's gaze traveled across the faces of her companions, taking in the seriousness etched into each one. The Orcas weren't taking this lightly. Whatever they faced, it was strong—strong enough to make her friends approach the situation with deadly seriousness.
Stepping forward, Gin's voice was calm but firm. "Would it be possible for you to let us pass?"
Miss Doublefinger's lips curved into a sly, dangerous smile. "Sure," she said, gesturing broadly as if opening a gate. "Go on."
Yet her eyes, and those of the other agents, betrayed their true intentions. They circled like predators, evaluating the Orcas and Vivi as if weighing their next move.
"Seems unlikely, huh," Zoro muttered, squinting against the glare of the setting sun.
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the faint rustle of the wind across the barren road. Then, as if on a silent cue, both sides sprung into action.
Zoro lunged forward, intent on cutting through the enemy lines. Yet instinct screamed a warning, and he twisted sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding a sudden strike.
Clang!
Steel met steel as his swords collided with Mr. 1's transformed arms, hardened into deadly blades. Sparks flew with the force of the impact, illuminating the narrow gap between them.
"I'll hold him," Mr. 1 growled, his massive frame bracing against Zoro's relentless assault. Every muscle tensed, veins protruding as the two combatants clashed steel to steel, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The air around them seemed to vibrate with the force of each swing, sparks dancing in the dim light of the narrow path.
"Gin!" Zoro barked, gesturing sharply.
"Princess, let's go!" Gin shouted, trying to guide Vivi toward safety. But before they could move, Mr. 4 dropped from above, slamming heavily onto the ground in front of them, sending a shockwave through the soil. "You won't go anywhere," he growled, blocking their path like an unmovable wall.
"Tch!" Gin snorted, frustration flashing across his face.
Another person came forward. Miss Doublefinger lunged at them, with her hands transforming into a deadly spiked porcupine club. Gin barely managed to pull Vivi aside in time. The spiked hand missed Vivi's shoulder.
A gunshot rang out, and the bullet struck Miss Doublefinger in her side. She stumbled backward, hissing through gritted teeth. She glanced, and saw Hibari at the back of the Orcas, one knee on the ground, and rifle was smoking in hands.
"That lady seems dangerous," Hibari muttered, aiming his rifle. "Let me take care of her."
Before he could act, Ms. Merry Christmas burst violently from the ground, charging toward Hibari with a wicked grin.
"I got you!" The lady was about to claw on Hibari's head. Just then, a shuriken appeared in front of her.
Boom!
The explosion flung Ms. Merry Christmas backward with a grunt of pain.
Stev stood a few feet away, was holding to some few shuriken ready in hands. "I'll try to handle this mole grandma," he muttered, surveying the battlefield with determination.
Meanwhile, Mr. 3 frowned as he prepared to use his wax abilities to trap the Orcas.
"You guys seem to forget about me," he muttered. But before he could act, he sensed a sudden force incoming. Reacting quickly, he formed a wax wall as a shield just in time as a large stone slammed into it with a deafening *thud*.
From the side, Kruz observed calmly, lifting another large stone in hand. His voice was eerily serene, yet carried authority. "Sorry, they're busy. So, let's just be good partners, shall we?"
Binko, meanwhile, finally registered the chaos around him. For a moment, he felt paralyzed by how quickly everyone had engaged their opponents. Steel, bullets, explosions, and supernatural attacks clashed across the battlefield. Everyone was occupied, leaving only one adversary unattended—Miss Golden Week.
She sat serenely, an almost comical contrast to the battle raging around her, munching crackers and sipping tea as if she were enjoying a quiet afternoon instead of standing on a battlefield. The sunlight glinted off her hair, giving her an air of calm.
"Then… I guess I'll handle you?" he muttered under his breath, unsure whether he should attack or not.
...
Inside the royal palace, the air was thick with tension and dust from the ongoing battle. Sanji's legs moved in a blur, delivering rapid-fire kicks, but even his most precise strikes barely fazed the two Alabasta commanders. Pell and Chaka worked seamlessly together, covering each other's weaknesses and anticipating Sanji's moves with uncanny synchronicity. Every time Sanji landed a blow, one of them would counter instantly, making it feel like a single organism with two heads.
Sanji gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure mounting. His fists clenched, his breaths sharp. *Damn it… these guys are strong… and when they fight together, it's impossible to break through their coordination.*
He cursed under his breath, his frustration rising as sweat trickled down his face.
"Let me help you," a calm yet commanding voice called out from above.
Sanji barely had time to process it before a shadow loomed over Pell, who had just lunged forward, aiming to intercept him.
"Watch out!" someone shouted from the throne, but even the warning came too late.
"10,000 Kilo Weight!"
Boom!!
The impact forced Pell downward, gliding and slamming him onto the marble floor with a sickening *crack*. His body heaved, and he coughed up blood as the weight landed squarely on him.
Mikita, perched atop Pell's back, remained perfectly balanced, her foot stepped heavily onto his shoulders—not with malice, but to immobilize him completely.
"Stay still," Mikita commanded, her tone calm but unyielding. Pell groaned, unable to move as his body was pinned to the marble floor.
"Pell!" Chaka shouted, rushing forward to help, but he was blocked. Sanji, eyes blazing with frustration and determination, had already refocused on the remaining threat. He ducked low as Chaka swung his sword in a wide arc.
"Collier Shot!" Sanji shouted.
Spinning with incredible speed, his leg slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. His kick connected with Chaka's shoulder with a *thud*, sending the commander staggering backward. Chaka grunted in pain, his body wobbling under the force.
"Ghh! Stop it!" Chaka yelled, barely regaining his balance. He raised his sword again to strike, but felt a wind sweep from the back. He instinctively ducked. Some sharp claws barely missed his head.
Then, a second attack came—a mutton shot, a spinning kick from Sanji that slammed directly into Chaka's stomach. The force of it sent the commander flying across the room, crashing against the palace wall with a heavy *boom*. The impact left a shallow dent in the stone, dust falling from the ceiling.
Sanji, barely pausing to catch his breath, shifted his gaze to the side. There, standing in absolute stillness, was Nojiko. Her Kamon: Kurojin form shimmered faintly in the dim light of the palace hall—a sleek, black panther, muscles taut, poised to strike. Her amber eyes glinted with a predatory focus, scanning the battlefield with precision.
"You go capture the king," Nojiko said, her voice calm yet commanding. "I'll handle Commander Chaka. Don't let him make a move."
Sanji hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening as he processed her words. The thought of leaving the king alone, even briefly, made his instincts scream. But he knew better than to argue; Nojiko's presence meant they could divide and conquer. He nodded sharply. "Alright. Leave Chaka to me."
Taking a deep breath, Sanji stepped forward, each motion measured yet brimming with lethal intent. His black shoes scraped lightly against the polished floor, echoing softly in the grand hall.
"Now," he muttered under his breath, "let me give you some smack. Maybe it'll knock some sense into that thick skull of yours."
The king remained seated at first, eyes following Sanji's approach. Oddly, he didn't seem alarmed at all. A faint, almost knowing smile crept across his face, slow and unnerving.
"Look like it's time to end the act," the king said smoothly. Without warning, he rose from the throne and spun around.
Sanji froze mid-step, frowning as confusion rippled through him. Something was off. "what the heck is he doing?" he muttered, scanning the king's weird behavior.
Before Sanji could react further, the spinning figure halted, and a new face emerged from the motion.
"Yeow! Let's reintroduce myself," the figure announced dramatically, striking a flamboyant pose. The wide grin that spread across the man's features was exceptionally annoying.
"I'm Mr. 2 Bon Clay," the man declared, his expression a mix of mischief and confidence. The exaggerated gestures, and the flamboyant grin all screamed of the Baroque Works agent's signature style.
Sanji's cigarette fell from his lips, clattering against the polished floor, as his eyes went wide in disbelief. His mind raced, trying to process what had just happened.
For a moment, silence descended like a heavy blanket. Even the distant sounds of the palace—the flicker of torches, the faint rustle of tapestries—seemed to fade into nothing. Every eye in the room was fixed on the impostor, who twirled lightly on his toes, a wide, theatrical grin plastered across his face.
Chaka, still reeling from his earlier clash with Sanji and Nojiko, froze mid-stance. Blood still trickled from the corner of his lips, and his muscles tensed instinctively as he reassessed the situation. His sharp eyes flicked toward the spinning figure. Recognition dawned slowly, anger and shock mixing in his gaze.
"So the king is fake!" Chaka barked, his voice cracking with disbelief and fury. His hands clenched into fists as he straightened his back, muscles taut with suppressed rage.
"No wonder… he was behaving so strangely! Damn you, Baroque Works!" He spat on the floor, cursing the shadowy organization that had deceived them so completely.
Pell, standing nearby, felt his blood run cold. Mikita leapt lightly from his back, landing gracefully some steps away.
"Seems like we've been tricked all along," Pell muttered, his normally composed voice tinged with frustration. His eyes darted from the spinning impostor to the rest of the room, searching for clues, any sign of the real king.