Ten days later, news of Ross's arrival in Alabasta spread like wildfire across the kingdom.
Neither Ross nor Cobra had any interest in hiding their travels. They moved openly through bustling towns and villages, brushing past throngs of civilians at every stop. When Ross felt generous, he'd scatter Berry along the streets—tens of millions tumbling down like rain. The crowds went wild, scrambling for the windfall.
These small gestures, paired with Cobra's steady presence at his side, quickly eroded the Alabasta folk's wariness toward Celestial Dragons. Whispers shifted from resentment to reluctant admiration: Ross, the noble who showed kindness to the commoners and a spark of justice.
In this world, ordinary people considered it a win if the powerful didn't trample them outright. Seeking real justice for the oppressed? That was a pipe dream. Exploitation was just life—year after year, generation after generation. Alabasta's citizens forked over about 40% of their earnings in taxes, a rate they'd grumbled about since birth but accepted as normal. In other World Government affiliates, it was 70% or worse. With the desert kingdom's harsh climate crippling harvests, their take-home pay often shrank even lower than those heavier-burdened nations.
Handing out cash was straightforward, sure, but it cut straight to the heart. No speeches needed—just results.
In Alubarna, the capital, Ross and Cobra's arrival ignited a citywide frenzy. Cheers echoed off the sun-baked walls as the duo ascended a grand platform overlooking the main square. Servants hauled up crate after crate of Berry, dumping them into the eager masses below.
Ross kept the denominations low, ensuring the scramble reached as many hands as possible. To him, it was pocket change, but the chorus of "Saint Ross!" ringing out? Priceless. Keep this up, and Alabasta's resistance would crumble entirely.
People were simple that way: Feed them, shield them from pirates, and loyalty followed. Cobra could promise grain in lean times, but Ross offered full bellies and ironclad security. A bloody coup might spark die-hard rebels, their deaths fueling more unrest. But if Cobra met with an "unfortunate accident"? Ross's path to the throne would clear like a desert wind.
From the platform, Ross scanned the crowd with a faint smile, his gaze casual but sharp. His eyes lingered on one figure in the shadows: a man cloaked in a long black robe, face obscured by a veil.
[Patrick Redfield]
[Overall Rating: S+]
The man he'd been waiting for was here at last.
Ross's Sea Hearing let him sense vibrations through the water, picking up distant ripples across vast distances. Alabasta's bone-dry expanse limited its range—he couldn't blanket the whole country. But knowing the Redfield was inbound kept him vigilant. In crowded spots like this, he'd discreetly spread seawater beforehand, turning the area into a makeshift sonar net.
"Foolish Celestial Dragon..."
Hidden in the throng, the Redfield sneered at the spectacle. From the platform, Ross and Cobra saw adoring subjects. From below, the crowd witnessed their leaders' "generosity." But the truth?
The Redfield had been born with Observation Haki and a rare gift for mind-reading. Probing a strong-willed foe demanded focus, risking detection. Ordinary folk, though? Their thoughts spilled into his head like an open floodgate—a torrent of petty malice.
Damn it, why's that guy up front hogging all the cash?
I got shortchanged— that jerk next to me snatched my 1,000 Berry!
Wait till the nobles clear out. I'll bash that thief and take what's mine...
The air buzzed with negativity, masked by hollow cheers. Humanity was beyond saving, rotten to the core.
The Redfield's eyes gleamed with cold detachment. Mind-reading from childhood had taught him trust was a fool's game. His long life alone confirmed it—no soul he'd encountered was free of dark impulses. These vermin didn't deserve comrades. He needed no one but himself.
BOOM!
In a blur, the Redfield exploded into motion, arrowing toward the platform. His staff-sword flashed free, unleashing a crimson flying slash over thirty meters long.
He'd arrived early, lurking in the outskirts. Only two presences in the crowd evaded his mind probe entirely: Gion and Ross. Everyone else? An open book.
But those two... Even light focus yielded nothing. Their Observation Haki was elite—stronger than the billion-Berry pirates he'd slain. Gion's edge likely stemmed from her Bat-Bat Fruit, Model: Vampire. Ross's? A mystery.
The Redfield had one goal: Slay Gion, then hunt the fruit's rebirth. Mythical Zoans like hers followed patterns—fixed spots or destined users. His method? Simple. Kill bearers until the puzzle solved itself. Ross was irrelevant collateral.
The sudden strike blindsided the civilians and Cobra. Only Gion and Ross reacted in time.
Gion summoned Konpira, her blade igniting with power, while Ross hefted Poseidon's Trident.
BOOM!
The slash crashed down, clashing against Gion's guard in a shower of sparks. The impact rippled through her stance.
"So strong..." Gion's eyes widened in shock.
She'd anticipated the Redfield, prepped for his assault. But feeling it firsthand—the raw, unmatched force—drove home his legend.
CRASH!
The blow hammered her golden prism barrier, the force unrelenting. Gion couldn't hold; she rocketed backward like a snapped kite string, smashing through a row of mud-brick homes. Debris rained down as she skidded nearly a hundred meters, buried under rubble before grinding to a halt.
…
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