BOOM—!
The tavern doors exploded outward in a storm of splintered wood and shattered hinges as a body was hurled through them like a discarded rag doll.
Lily struck a small tree just outside the tavern with a sickening crack, snapping its trunk clean in half before she crashed into the dirt beyond. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. She skidded several feet, rolling once before coming to a halt.
For a moment, she did not move. Her cloak was torn and dust-caked, her body battered and trembling. Blood trickled from a cut along her temple, matting her hair to her face. Her left arm hung at an unnatural angle, fingers twitching weakly—broken, useless. Each shallow breath sent a jolt of pain through her ribs, and her vision swam as the night sky blurred overhead. Boots crunched against debris.
"You bitch…!"
The Marine Captain's roar tore through the night as he stepped out of the ruined tavern, his massive frame casting a long, warped shadow beneath the lantern light. A deep gash ran across his face, blood staining his jaw and dripping onto the stones below. Gone was the leering hunger from before—what burned in his eyes now was pure, unrestrained hatred.
"I'm going to tear you limb from limb!"
Several Marines followed him out, weapons drawn, expressions grim and sobered. Whatever drunken bravado they'd carried earlier had been stripped away by the violence inside. They had felt it—the pressure of Haki, the clash of monsters. They knew how close their Captain had come to dying.
And so did he. The realization gnawed at him. If they hadn't intervened—if they hadn't abandoned their indulgences and rushed back at the disturbance—he would have fallen there. Zoan resilience or not, he had been beaten. Thoroughly. By a young confirmed Devil Fruit user who should have been prey.
That humiliation burned hotter than any wound. He no longer cared about savoring her fear. He only wanted her dead.
"Cough—!"
Lily forced air back into her lungs, hacking violently as she tried to push herself up with one arm. Pain flared white-hot through her body, and she nearly collapsed again. Her Haki flickered weakly—unrefined, unstable. During her years under Crocodile, she had learned what Haki was, had been forced to awaken it through survival and suffering—but never had the luxury of proper instruction. No guidance. No patience.
Only necessity. Her Armament haki was crude. Her Observation haki inconsistent. But Lily had something else. A sharp, calculating mind—and a Paramecia ability that turned the battlefield itself into her weapon. She lifted her head slowly, eyes locking onto the Marines advancing toward her.
Despite the pain… despite the blood… she did not beg. She steadied her breathing. They had swarmed her inside the tavern. Overwhelmed her with numbers when brute force failed. That was the only reason she lay broken now instead of them.
And even like this— They hesitated. Hands trembled on triggers. Boots slowed. Because they could still feel it. The woman they had thrown through the door had not been defeated. She was still dangerous.
Lily tried to rise. Her will screamed at her body to move—to fight, to flee—but it no longer obeyed. Pain drowned every command. Her stamina was gone, wrung dry by the battle, and even her Devil Fruit betrayed her now—hands that tried to bloom flickered and vanished like mirages. She collapsed to one knee, breath ragged, vision swimming.
"You should've just agreed… You could have at least walked out of this alive."
The Marine Captain sneered, raising his pistol with a trembling but determined hand. He kept his distance, eyes sharp despite the blood soaking his uniform. He had learned his lesson—Paramecia users were most dangerous when underestimated.
Better to end it cleanly. The muzzle aligned with Lily's head. The night held its breath. Then— A voice cut through the air. Cold. Calm. Absolute.
"Desert Spada."
The ground split open. A blade of compressed sand erupted upward in a vicious arc, severing the Captain's arm before his finger could tighten on the trigger. The pistol fell uselessly, clattering to the ground a heartbeat before his hand followed with a dull thud. There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then— "AAAAAARGH—!"
The Captain's scream tore through the square as he clutched the bleeding stump, collapsing to the ground in a writhing heap. His face contorted in agony and disbelief as pain finally caught up to him. The remaining Marines reacted on instinct.
"Fire—!"
Rifles cracked as bullets tore through the darkness toward the source of the attack. But the shots passed through empty air. Through drifting sand. A tall figure emerged from the haze, coat billowing, hook glinting faintly under the lantern light. Bullet holes riddled his form for a brief second—then sealed themselves as grains of sand flowed back into place.
A Logia. Unharmed. Unbothered. Crocodile stepped forward. The Marines froze as they recognized the man, one of the Shichibukai. Compared to them, Lily's reaction was far worse. Her blood ran cold. Even without seeing his face, she knew. The presence alone was unmistakable—oppressive, suffocating, dragging her straight back into the nightmare she had believed she'd escaped. Her heart hammered violently as terror clawed its way up her spine.
Run.
She tried to move—dragging herself across the dirt with one arm, nails scraping desperately against the ground. Behind her, Crocodile chuckled softly.
"To think," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "that you lowly bastards would dare covet something that's mine."
He didn't even spare the wounded Captain a glance. His attention was solely on Lily. He approached at an unhurried pace, each step deliberate, inevitable—like the encroaching desert swallowing everything in its path.
"I told you," Crocodile continued calmly, "that I would find you. Didn't I?"
He crouched beside her. Lily tried to crawl away, teeth clenched, tears stinging her eyes as memories surged back—commands barked, humanity stripped away piece by piece, atrocities committed with her hands while her will was crushed beneath his shadow.
She almost made it— Until his hand closed around her ankle. With brutal ease, Crocodile dragged her back toward him, crushing the bone beneath his grip. The sound was sharp. Final. Lily screamed. Crocodile leaned closer, his expression unreadable—eyes devoid of warmth, pity, or hesitation.
"Running away," he murmured, almost bored, "was never an option."
Around them, the Marines stood paralyzed—some trembling, some staring in horrified realization.
They had thought themselves monsters. But now— They stood in the presence of something far worse.
"Crocodile…!" The Marine Captain—pale, shaking, clutching the blood-soaked remains of his arm—forced himself upright with the help of two Marines. His legs trembled, but desperation hardened his voice.
"Have you forgotten your status as a Shichibukai?" he barked. "Do you even realize what you've done?!"
Fear still gnawed at him—there was no denying the gulf between their strength—but realization brought a flicker of courage. This wasn't just some rogue pirate. This was a Warlord of the Sea. And Warlords answered to the World Government.
"You're on dangerous ground," the Captain continued, emboldened now. "You're nothing more than a sanctioned pirate—a hunting dog on a leash. Lay another finger on us, and—"
He never finished the sentence. The ground beneath them split open in silence. A crescent blade of hardened sand erupted upward. In an instant, the Marines standing closest to the Captain were cut down, their bodies collapsing before their minds could register what had happened. Blood spattered the dirt as rifles clattered uselessly to the ground.
The Captain screamed and stumbled backward, falling hard as terror finally crushed whatever bravado he had summoned. Crocodile didn't even look at them. To him, they were already dead.
He turned his attention back to Lily. She was barely conscious now, her body shaking as she tried—vainly—to pull away. Crocodile crouched beside her and seized her jaw with crushing force, prying her mouth open without effort. His eyes narrowed.
"There it is," he muttered.
With two fingers, he reached inside and wrenched free a molar hidden deep within—shattering it between his fingers. A faint hiss rose as the poison inside reacted with the air. Lily's eyes widened. She had been ready to die. Better death than returning to him. Crocodile's grip tightened.
"Only if it were that simple, Lily," he said coldly. "You should have known the moment you agreed to work for me—your life and death ceased to be your own."
Her lips trembled as she tried to speak. He struck her. The backhand was swift and merciless, the sound echoing across the square as her body went limp, consciousness snuffed out instantly. Crocodile straightened, dusting his hand as if he had brushed aside an inconvenience.
Then he turned. The surviving Marines froze where they stood, staring at him like prey caught in the open desert. Crocodile regarded them calmly. He wasn't worried. A few dead Marines could be buried under paperwork, excuses, and political convenience. His status as a Shichibukai ensured that much. What truly mattered was that none of them had recognized her.
If they had known who Lily truly was—if they had realized she was the last survivor of Ohara—this night would have drawn far more attention than even he was prepared to deal with.
Crocodile never liked leaving loose ends. With Lily's unconscious form slung effortlessly over his shoulder, he turned back toward the ruins of the tavern. The Marine Captain lay where he had fallen, shaking uncontrollably, eyes wide with the understanding that no title, no uniform, no plea would save him now.
"Sables."
Crocodile didn't even look at him. The word alone was enough. The ground trembled as sand surged outward in every direction, spiraling violently into a roaring storm that swallowed the tavern whole. Marines screamed as they were dragged from their feet, weapons torn from their hands, bodies battered and shredded by countless cutting currents. Any remaining witnesses—those who had thought to hide in shadows or watch from afar—were pulled into the maelstrom just the same.
When the storm finally died down, nothing remained. No bodies. No blood. No evidence. Only smooth, silent sand where the tavern had once stood. Crocodile lingered for a moment, lighting a cigar as embers flared softly against the night. His Observation Haki stretched outward, sweeping the area with cold precision.
Satisfied that no one remained, he turned and walked into the darkness—desert wind trailing behind him like a cloak. But fate had a way of slipping through cracks. Far from the ruined square, deep within a narrow alley choked by shadow, a lone man stood frozen. Middle-aged, unassuming, and dressed like any common traveler—yet his eyes were sharp and calculating.
A Cipher Pol agent. It wasn't luck that had spared him. He had felt Crocodile's probing presence and masked himself perfectly, suppressing his breath, his heartbeat, and his very intent. But what truly shook him wasn't the massacre. It was the girl.
Even battered, even unconscious, even disguised with dyed hair and worn clothing—he recognized her immediately. The Demon of Ohara. Nico Lily. A living relic with a bounty of 299 million berries. A name that sent shivers through the highest echelons of the World Government. His hand trembled as he pulled out a Transponder Snail.
"I need to inform HQ immediately…" he whispered.
The words had barely left his lips when— SHNK.
A blade pierced straight through his chest. The agent gasped, eyes bulging as the breath fled his lungs. Pain came a heartbeat later, dull and crushing. A metallic hand closed around his own, fingers tightening around the Transponder Snail until it shattered with a sickening crunch. The agent coughed, blood staining his lips as his knees buckled.
"How…?" he rasped.
He hadn't sensed anything. No footsteps. No presence. A figure stepped forward from the shadows. Tall. Broad. Silent. Moonlight caught the sharp lines of his face and the unnatural sheen of his skin—already hardening, already transforming. His body glinted faintly like polished steel, edges forming where flesh should have been.
Young. Cold-eyed. Unyielding. Daz Bones.
"You shouldn't have been here," he said flatly.
With a single, efficient motion, he withdrew the blade. The agent collapsed soundlessly to the ground, his mission—and his life—ending in the dark. Daz Bones turned, already fading back into the shadows. Loose ends, after all, were unacceptable. And tonight, Crocodile's desert would remember nothing.
****
Greenbit, New World
The underground laboratory beneath Green Bit was coming apart. Once-pristine corridors of reinforced steel and polished stone now lay split open like broken ribs, exposing sparking cables and ruptured conduits that hissed and screamed in protest. Emergency lights flickered erratically, casting blood-red shadows that danced across walls scarred by claw marks the size of ships. The air was thick with dust, steam, and the sharp tang of ozone.
At the heart of the destruction stood the giant. Over eighty meters tall, the ancient being of the Gallelia Tribe moved with unrestrained violence, each step sending seismic shocks through the cavern. Entire sections of the lab collapsed beneath its weight as it roared—an ear-splitting, primal sound that reverberated through the bedrock itself. Its massive hands tore through machinery designed to restrain gods, ripping apart reinforced med-pods as if they were made of glass.
Two such chambers had already been destroyed. The shattered remains of their containment fields lay strewn across the floor, flickering weakly before dying entirely—silent monuments to a catastrophic miscalculation. Crushed instruments, twisted metal, and fragments of advanced technology littered the ground, rendered meaningless in the face of ancient strength.
Researchers fled in every direction, some dragged from their feet by the violent tremors, others frozen in shock as walls caved in around them. Automated defense systems sparked uselessly, their mechanisms crushed before they could even deploy.
"Evacuate the lab—now!"
Einstein's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and unwavering, as his small hands flew across the console. Lines of data streamed rapidly across the monitors while warning sirens wailed overhead. Despite the tremors rocking the facility, he remained focused, teeth clenched as he initiated a full backup of the research archives—every fragment of data they had gathered on the giants being funneled toward the main server.
They had read the records. Studied the myths. And still, they had underestimated them.
The newly awakened giant of the Gallelia Tribe was rampaging through the underground complex like a force of nature unchained. At over eighty meters tall, its mere movements shook the earth. Two massive med-pods—each containing another giant locked in suspended animation—had already been torn apart, shattered like glass under its fury.
"When is backup from the Family arriving?!" another scientist shouted, panic cracking his voice as debris rained from the ceiling. Sweat drenched his brow as the truth finally sank in. The ancient accounts hadn't been exaggerated. If anything, they had been mercifully understated.
"Panicking won't help," Einstein replied calmly, fingers never slowing. His young face was set with grim clarity. "And none of us here can stop that thing."
He paused only for a moment, eyes flicking to the destruction beyond the reinforced glass.
"So do the only thing we can do."
The ground shuddered violently as the ancient giant let out a thunderous roar—raw, primal, echoing through the cavernous lab. With terrifying ease, it ripped free a colossal support pillar, stone and steel screaming as it was torn from its foundation.
The giant reared back. Then hurled it. The massive projectile tore through the air, spinning end over end, aimed straight at the central console—at Einstein and the cluster of scientists desperately trying to preserve the knowledge that had cost so much to obtain. There was no time to run.
"Titan's Guard!"
The voice was small—but steady. A blur shot forward. Compared to the incoming pillar, Leo, the Tontatta warrior, was little more than a speck. Yet he launched himself without hesitation, eyes blazing with resolve. As his Devil Fruit power surged, the very environment answered his call.
Roots erupted from the ground. Vines twisted and thickened. Bark hardened like iron. In an instant, a massive living shield formed in midair—an interwoven wall of ancient roots and reinforced wood—slamming into the pillar with an earth-shaking impact. The collision sent shockwaves rippling through the lab, dust and fragments blasting outward.
Leo braced himself midair, muscles straining as he pushed. With a fierce cry, he redirected the momentum. The pillar reversed course, hurtling back toward its sender. The giant froze. For the first time since awakening, its berserk gaze focused—locking onto the tiny figure floating before it, the one who had dared to defy its strength.
Its roar deepened, shaking the cavern as fury found a target. Leo hovered in the air, chest heaving, shield crumbling before him—but his stance remained firm. Behind him, Einstein watched silently, data transfer nearing completion.
For a fleeting instant, the ancient giant hesitated. Its colossal eyes narrowed, focusing on the tiny figure hovering before it. Something stirred deep within its ageless mind—an echo from a forgotten era, a memory buried beneath centuries of slumber. Forests that once walked.
Guardians that stood against titans. A presence that felt… familiar. But the moment passed. The giant's face twisted as instinct drowned memory. Its berserk nature surged to the forefront, erasing thought with fury. With a thunderous roar, it lowered its massive shoulders and charged, each step cracking the cavern floor like a breaking continent.
Leo did not retreat. Instead, he spread his tiny arms wide. The air around him shifted.
"World Titan—" he whispered.
And the world answered. From Leo's tiny body, roots erupted—not outward, but through him. His limbs elongated, bark racing across his skin as veins of glowing green energy pulsed beneath the surface. His small form began to stretch, expand, grow—faster and faster—defying every natural law. Wood creaked like bending mountains.
Vines burst from his back, thickening into massive tendrils that coiled and braided together, forming an ever-growing spine. Leaves exploded outward in waves, filling the cavern with a roaring wind scented with life itself. His feet plunged into the ground, roots drilling deep into bedrock, anchoring him as his body surged skyward.
In seconds, Leo was no longer a Tontatta. He was a forest given form. Towering past thirty meters—then fifty—then more, his body became a living colossus of wood, bark, and emerald light. Massive arms formed from interwoven trunks, fingers branching into grasping limbs thick enough to crush stone. A crown of leaves and vines rose where his head had been, eyes glowing softly within the verdant mass.
At over sixty meters tall, he finally stopped growing. The Mori Ningen—the Forest Human—stood before the ancient giant, roots spreading like continents beneath the lab floor, branches scraping the cavern ceiling. Every breath he took caused the walls to tremble as life energy surged outward, reclaiming the dead space around him.
Flowers bloomed where debris lay. Cracked stone was swallowed by creeping moss. The giant skidded to a halt. For the first time since awakening, its charge faltered—not from fear, but recognition. The thing before it was no longer prey.
It was an equal. A living monument of nature itself. Leo's voice echoed from within the towering form, calm and resolute, layered with the whisper of leaves and the groan of ancient trees.
"You will go no further."
The cavern trembled as two primordial forces—forest and titan—faced one another, the clash of forgotten ages about to be reborn beneath Green Bit.