A gigantic floating island covered more than half the town completely. The sky-blotting sight pressed down on Crocodile's vision like a physical weight.
"Is this the Float-Float Fruit?!" Crocodile blurted out.
As a pirate who had roamed the seas for years, how could he not know the power of the "Flying Pirate," Shiki? That ability was precisely the kind that could make islands levitate.
But Shiki was already dead—killed by one of that Lulusia king's guards. The papers had printed it plain as day.
"So… another user ate that fruit?" Crocodile understood immediately. And since the other side had shown up here so abruptly, their target was obvious—him.
This was the town at the entrance to the first half of the Grand Line. There was nothing here that could lure someone of that level.
Which meant only one possibility.
Lulusia.
If anyone still wanted to hunt him down this badly, it had to be Lulusia Kingdom. What he'd done a few days ago had completely and utterly offended them.
Cactus Island was remote. He'd thought it through for a long time before choosing this place. The town was cautious by nature, and his actions had been hidden well enough that even the World Government's intelligence network might not be able to find him so easily.
So how did Lulusia manage it?
How did they get information this precise?
"My location shouldn't be known to anyone else… where did the leak happen?" Crocodile's mind churned with doubt. Only his high-ranking officers knew where he was. Had one of them betrayed him?
But now wasn't the time to dissect that.
Since the enemy had already found him, Crocodile's top priority became one thing: leaving here alive.
"Boss…" Mr. 1's voice carried a tense tremor. He had recognized what this scene meant too. "Have we been found?"
"Shut up!" Crocodile snapped.
He forced himself to calm down, but the sweat beading on his forehead betrayed his true state. His thoughts raced, searching for any path of escape.
After fear came a blaze of anger and humiliation.
He was Crocodile—someone who had dominated the seas for years. Even if his schemes had failed, he had still been one of the Seven Warlords.
And now some snot-nosed brat (in Crocodile's eyes, Ronan was exactly that) had come to his doorstep like this, trapping him like a turtle in a jar.
Disgrace. Absolute disgrace.
"Get ready to break through," Crocodile ground out, teeth clenched. Fine grains of yellow sand began to drift around him, and his gaze sharpened. "No matter who it is, if they want to catch Crocodile, they'd better see if they've got the skill!"
He decided to stop hiding. The Sand-Sand Fruit surged to full output, and the air instantly grew dry.
But just as he was about to smash through the wall—planning to whip up a sandstorm, create chaos, and flee—the floating island stopped descending.
It hung silently several hundred meters above the town, its enormous shadow swallowing everything.
Then a clear, calm voice rolled down from the direction of the island, echoing over the rooftops:
"Crocodile-san, are you coming out on your own… or do I have to 'invite' you out?"
Ronan's voice.
At the same time, at least four icy killing intents locked onto Crocodile's body.
If he moved the slightest bit wrong, the next second would be a lethal strike.
Crocodile didn't doubt it for a moment: if he insisted on breaking the wall to cause a diversion, the wall might not even crack before a storm of attacks tore him apart.
His expression turned ugly.
He had seen every kind of scene in his years at sea—from the New World to the first half of the Grand Line.
But this… this was the first time he'd ever felt like even the option to run had been completely stripped away.
They were prepared.
And not only that—they had prepared specifically for him. For his powers. For his reflexes. For the moves he was most likely to make.
"Boss…" Mr. 1 lowered his voice. Under that omnipresent pressure, his blade-formed arms trembled slightly, but his eyes stayed steady.
Crocodile drew a long breath.
He knew that forcing it would only lead to death. Since they hadn't killed him immediately and had instead "invited" him out like this… it meant there might still be room to negotiate.
Even if, in his eyes, that room was as thin as a hair.
"Let's go," Crocodile squeezed out through clenched teeth.
He straightened the slightly messy collar of his coat, then pushed open the rotten wooden door and walked outside. Mr. 1 followed close behind.
The moment Crocodile stepped into the open, his pupils tightened again.
The crowds that had been in the streets were gone. In their place stood four figures, loosely forming a circle around him and Mr. 1.
Crocodile recognized two of them instantly.
Beth.
Alicia.
The guards of King Ronan of Lulusia—the ones who had slain Shiki.
And farther off—
A cat-eared girl.
And a man crackling with electricity.
Crocodile felt a deep, instinctive dread from both of them.
His heart sank straight into the abyss.
Surrounded by these four, even at his former peak, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Escape was a joke.
Then a calm set of footsteps sounded from behind Beth.
Ronan walked up and stopped beside her.
Crocodile stared hard at Ronan.
He wasn't unfamiliar with this boy at all. This was the youth who had recently turned the World Government upside down—and now he had brought these monsters under his command and pinpointed the hiding place of a former Warlord with terrifying precision.
"Crocodile," Ronan said, staring him down as he spoke. "Or should I say… the president of Baroque Works, Mr. 0."
Crocodile bit down on his cigar and pulled a gloomy smile across his face.
"Fufufu… Ronan-sama, King of Lulusia. What a grand show." His gaze swept over Beth and the others. "For a washed-up Warlord like me, you even came personally—and you mobilized… hm, quite a few 'big names,' didn't you?"
"Washed up?" Ronan laughed, shaking his head. "A man who plotted in Alabasta for so long—who aimed to seize the Ancient Weapon Pluton, and nearly succeeded—how could you possibly be 'washed up'?"
Ronan's words made Crocodile's heart jolt.
Alabasta had been his deepest secret.
And Ronan knew it—clearly, precisely, like he'd been watching the whole time.
How?
Only a handful of people around Crocodile had ever known the full plan…
(End of Chapter)
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