Chapter 277: This Isn't How the Script Was Written
"The comic books I read specifically say that in these shady underground deals, someone always tries to double-cross the other party! Why did they just leave?" Yamato grumbled, sounding genuinely disappointed.
Chloe and Yamato made no move to stop the smugglers from fleeing. The money and goods had been smoothly exchanged, and their Observation Haki confirmed that those trembling men posed absolutely zero threat. There was no tactical reason to detain them.
"You sound like you were actually hoping an accident would happen," Chloe sighed, exasperated. "The way you're talking makes you sound like an undercover agent sent by the enemy..."
"How is that even possible?!" Yamato protested indignantly.
"Well, for a deep-cover spy, a single flaw is a fatal flaw. But if your entire existence is just one giant, walking flaw... then it basically counts as having no flaws at all. And you, my friend, are one giant walking flaw."
Despite their casual, bickering tone, the two girls moved with practiced, synchronized lethality. Crackling blue lightning began to densely condense around Chloe's fingertips, while fine, pristine white fur rapidly sprouted across Yamato's skin as she seamlessly transitioned into her hybrid beast form.
For a Mythical Zoan user, attempting to forcefully manifest their elemental abilities without transforming was an incredibly tedious, advanced technique.
When a user wasn't intimately familiar with their Devil Fruit's awakened mechanics, forcing an elemental manifestation in their base form consumed a staggering amount of stamina for very little actual output. It was a massive waste of energy.
For maximum efficiency and immediate destructive power, transforming was always the optimal choice.
CRACKLE—!
WHOOSH—!
A blinding arc of lightning and a devastating, sub-zero blizzard erupted simultaneously, screaming toward the distant sand dune.
That unknown, hidden entity was still radiating a distinctly dangerous aura. Furthermore, he had deliberately stalked the smugglers to their drop site. Adopting a "shoot first, ask questions later" policy was entirely justified here.
However, their combined, localized bombardment merely kicked up a massive, blinding storm of golden sand.
In the very next instant, the swirling grains of sand rapidly converged and solidified directly beside the two girls, morphing into the shape of a tall, imposing man with slicked-back hair, a deep facial scar, and a large golden hook replacing his left hand.
Over the past few years, the geopolitical landscape of Alabasta had shifted dramatically. The nation had gained a legendary, universally beloved "Hero"—Sir Crocodile.
Shortly after suffering a crushing, humiliating defeat at the hands of Whitebeard in the New World, Crocodile had retreated to this harsh desert nation. Through meticulous intelligence gathering, he had unearthed a terrifying rumor: hidden somewhere beneath the sands of this kingdom lay an Ancient Weapon of apocalyptic power: Pluton.
However, the current Crocodile didn't have Nico Robin working for him yet. Completely illiterate when it came to reading Poneglyphs, unearthing the true location of the weapon was proving exponentially more difficult.
But that didn't stop Crocodile from executing the foundational phase of his grand master plan: establishing himself as the undisputed, beloved Hero of Alabasta. He intended to slowly erode the Royal Family's influence, usurp the country from within, and only then dedicate all his resources to unearthing Pluton.
Consequently, Crocodile was currently in the prime of his "Hero" phase. He spent his days aggressively hunting down every pirate crew foolish enough to make landfall at Alabasta's ports.
By brutally slaughtering pirates, he simultaneously solidified his heroic public image while plundering their amassed treasures to silently fund his secret criminal syndicate, Baroque Works, allowing him to recruit more ruthless subordinates.
Aside from hunting pirates, he actively engaged in every stereotypical "heroic" endeavor imaginable.
Cracking down on the illegal smuggling of Dance Powder was naturally part of his heroic repertoire. After all, Dance Powder was strictly banned contraband precisely because its usage caused catastrophic, localized droughts, effortlessly igniting violent civil unrest between the desperate citizens and the Royal Family.
But Crocodile's motives were far from noble. He didn't just want to stop the smugglers; he wanted to confiscate the Dance Powder for his own use.
Secretly plunging specific regions into agonizing drought to artificially accelerate a civil war was the core mechanism of his usurpation plan. That was the sole reason he was currently tailing this specific exchange.
If his only objective was to steal the Dance Powder, Crocodile could have slaughtered the smugglers the moment they stepped out of the city. But to maximize his "Hero" points with the local authorities, he patiently tailed them, intending to violently apprehend both the sellers and the buyers in one grand, theatrical bust.
However, the buyers this time were... highly unusual.
There was no massive, heavily armed pirate crew or shady mafia syndicate. The buyers were literally just two little girls. Most shockingly, these two brats had instantly detected his presence despite his perfect camouflage.
Where on earth did these two kids come from?
This was the question currently baffling Crocodile's usually sharp mind.
Chloe was entirely different from Nanamo. Nanamo had grown up during the hyper-violent golden age of Pirate Island, had officially appeared on Marine bounty posters, and fundamentally loved being the center of attention (hence her grand concerts). Even if the general public didn't know her terrifying combat specs, they knew she was the beloved Princess of the Ryugu Kingdom.
Chloe, however, was born during an era of relative peace. The Fish-Man Pirates' global bounties had long been revoked, and Chloe had never caused any world-shattering incidents on the surface.
Although she frequently accompanied Nereus on his travels, it was rarely during highly publicized, global political summits. Consequently, her name carried very little weight in the outside world.
As for Yamato...
Kaido was currently an infamous, terrifying Emperor of the Sea. But the number of people who actually knew Kaido had a daughter was infinitesimally small. In fact, most of the newly recruited fodder within the Beast Pirates themselves had absolutely no idea their Governor-General possessed an heir.
Having fled to Alabasta shortly after his crushing defeat by Whitebeard years ago, Crocodile's intelligence network regarding the current, hyper-specific inner workings of the New World's apex powerhouses was severely outdated. He naturally had absolutely zero clue about the terrifying backgrounds backing these two girls.
However...
Black wings, pristine white hair, brown skin, and a flame constantly burning on her back... a Lunarian?
Crocodile's eyes narrowed. The mysteries surrounding these two were far too complex. Acting recklessly could potentially draw the ire of an unknown, terrifying faction and jeopardize his grand master plan.
After a brief moment of intense calculation, his gaze shifted toward the terrified smugglers, who had already mounted their camels and were frantically whipping the beasts to escape.
First, capture the sellers. Then, "confiscate" the Dance Powder. I'll observe if there's anyone else backing these brats before deciding my next move.
"Sables (Desert Storm)."
A tiny, rapidly swirling vortex of golden sand materialized in the palm of Crocodile's hand. Initially, it was nothing more than a localized updraft, but its momentum was escalating exponentially.
The moment Crocodile casually tossed it forward, the cup-sized vortex violently expanded, devouring the surrounding desert sands until it mutated into a roaring, towering tornado.
Alabasta—a nation covered entirely in sand—was unequivocally Crocodile's ultimate, perfect battlefield. Logia users inherently possessed the ability to manipulate their corresponding natural elements.
Rather than forcibly burning stamina to generate their element from scratch, seamlessly manipulating a boundless, pre-existing environment was infinitely more efficient.
Crocodile flawlessly controlled the trajectory and violent suction force of the tornado. The heavy crates of Dance Powder sitting on the ground instantly began to violently rattle, dangerously close to being swept up into the catastrophic storm.
"Aha! See?! I told you there'd be a double-cross!" Yamato yelled triumphantly.
"This isn't a double-cross! It's a blatant robbery!" Chloe snapped. "He's obviously trying to steal our stuff!"
"Oh, right. A double-cross is when the seller attacks you. This guy is a third party..."
"Stop reciting your stupid comic books! I'm going to tell Daddy—"
"Namuji Hyoga (Glacier Fang)!"
Before Chloe could finish her sentence, Yamato exhaled a devastating, hyper-pressurized beam of absolute zero frost directly at the crates of Dance Powder, instantly flash-freezing the cargo and the surrounding sand into an immovable, solid glacier to prevent it from being swept away.
In the next breath, she hoisted her massive, spiked kanabo over her shoulder and launched herself directly at Crocodile with explosive, terrifying speed.
"You bastard! You actually tried to ruin my first independent mission evaluation! Thunder Bagua!!"
Yamato's furious scream left Crocodile utterly perplexed. He couldn't comprehend a single word she was saying. In fact, the look he gave her was one of profound, pitying condescension—the kind of look one might give a mentally deficient child throwing a temper tantrum.
A disdainful, arrogant smirk curled the corner of his mouth. He made absolutely no effort to dodge, nor did he even bother raising his hook to block. Instead, he simply stood there, scoffing mockingly.
"Useless. A mere iron club... how could it possibly—"
BAM—!!!
Before Crocodile could even finish his arrogant monologue, Yamato's heavy, Haki-coated kanabo smashed violently, squarely into the side of his skull.
The catastrophic, bone-shattering impact instantly annihilated Crocodile's smirk, violently launching his body through the air like a fired cannonball until he crashed headfirst into a distant sand dune, burying him deep within the crater.
"Is this guy a complete idiot?" Yamato muttered, lowering her club in genuine confusion. "Why didn't he dodge when he saw the club coming straight at his face...?"
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