The capital of Alabasta—Alubarna.
The blazing sun hung high in the sky, the air itself twisting under the suffocating heat.
Outside the city walls, the footsteps of two million people merged into a quake that shook the very earth.
Koza sat atop his warhorse, his cloak whipping violently in the sand-laden wind.
The face that once held sunlight and justice now bore only hollow eyes—and a deep scar slashing across his cheek.
His gaze was cold. Unfeeling.
"For water! For the survival of Alabasta!"
Behind him, the roar was no longer a chant—
It was a desperate scream forced from two million cracked throats.
The sound surged skyward, scattering the clouds.
Their formation stretched across the horizon. As the rebel army advanced, the rising sand formed a massive wall—over a hundred meters high—rolling toward the capital.
"Fire—!!"
On the walls, the king's army commanders shouted, their voices sharp with fear.
Hundreds of cannons roared at once.
Iron shells tore through the scorching air, shrieking as they slammed into the dense rebel ranks.
In that instant—
The explosion devoured everything.
Bodies shattered.
Limbs flew alongside burning sand, thrown dozens of meters into the sky.
But the tide of two million could not be stopped.
One fell—
Ten stepped over the corpse and charged forward.
"Don't retreat! Push forward! Take back our water!"
Koza drew his sword.
Under the blazing sun, its edge gleamed with a lonely, merciless light.
The moment the two sides collided—
The world went silent.
Then—
The clash of steel shattered the air.
This was the most primal and brutal combat.
The dull thud of spears piercing flesh.
The wet slice of blades cutting throats.
The scratching of dying hands clawing at sand.
All of it merged into a symphony of death.
Blood sprayed across the dry earth—
Only to be instantly swallowed by the burning sand, leaving behind dark crimson stains.
The air reeked of iron, gunpowder, and scorched flesh.
The once-brilliant sun vanished behind thick smoke and swirling sand.
Alubarna sank into a suffocating, apocalyptic gloom.
Soldiers fought blindly in the haze, barely able to see more than shadows.
Though the king's army was well-trained—
Against an enemy ten times their number, driven by desperation—
Their lines began to collapse.
"The west gate has fallen!"
"The north gate is breached!! The inner city is under attack!!"
Despair spread like a plague.
Pell and Chaka fought like lone wolves in the chaos.
Their bodies were soaked in blood—enemy and their own.
Sweat washed their faces clean—
But not the sorrow in their eyes.
The blades meant to protect the kingdom—
Now cut down the very people they had sworn to defend.
The king's army retreated inward.
The steps, gardens, and fountains were piled with corpses.
Some soldiers died clutching the stone, as if trying to drag their enemies into hell with them.
The rebels flooded into the streets.
The once-thriving city became a slaughterhouse.
Civilians hid behind locked doors, trembling in darkness as steel clashed and death screamed outside.
The final plaza fell.
Koza raised his sword—
Ready to give the final command.
To bury the kingdom completely.
And then—
A figure appeared on the palace balcony.
Old.
Fraile.
That was Nefertari Cobra.
He wore no royal robes.
Only simple clothes.
The battlefield fell into eerie silence.
Only the wind moaned through the ruins.
"Koza… stop."
Cobra's voice was soft—
But in that silence, it reached everyone.
Koza tightened his grip on his sword until his knuckles turned white.
He looked up—
At the man he once respected like a father.
Now, only fury remained.
"King! It's too late!"
"Look at the dead! Look at this cracked land!"
"The people want survival—and you gave them drought and lies!"
"I have never betrayed this country… never."
Cobra's eyes held no anger.
Only boundless sorrow.
He looked down at the young faces below—
People who should have lived peaceful lives—
Now stained with blood.
"If someone must bear all this…"
He stepped to the edge of the balcony.
His trembling hands gripped the railing.
Looking at the sandstorm swallowing the sky, he cried out:
"Koza! Lower your sword!"
"The people in the city are innocent!"
"I will bear all the sins alone!"
"If my blood can calm the anger born from this drought…"
"Then stop this slaughter!"
Under the gaze of two million people—
Shocked.
Doubting.
Hesitating.
Cobra suddenly drew a dagger from his robes.
A royal blade—
Now turned upon himself.
"FATHER—!! NO—!!!"
Far outside the city—
A massive steel war vehicle roared forward through the desert.
Vivi knelt atop it, her scream tearing through the sky.
But—
Too late.
Cobra did not hesitate.
The dagger plunged deep into his heart.
The king who had ruled the desert for decades—
Stood tall as his blood poured down like rain.
In that moment—
Even eyes clouded by hatred felt a searing pain.
Cobra opened his mouth.
His final words drowned in blood—
But his gaze remained fixed on the land.
"Please… love this country…"
His body fell—
Like a withered leaf in the wind.
Before everyone's eyes—
He dropped from the high balcony—
And crashed onto the crimson carpet below.
A wise king—
Gone.
SCREEECH—!!
At that very moment—
The massive wheels of the Walpol war vehicle screeched as it braked violently at the edge of the plaza.
The friction burned the rubber, releasing a sharp, acrid smell as the entire vehicle skidded sideways, kicking up towering waves of sand.
Ronan.
Luffy.
Zoro.
Sanji.
Usopp.
Nami.
And Vivi—
All leapt down before it even stopped.
At the center of the plaza—
King Cobra lay in a pool of blood.
The dagger still embedded in his chest.
His eyes stared at the dimmed sun—
Now lifeless.
"FATHER—!!!"
Vivi's scream tore through the silence.
She stumbled forward—
And collapsed beside his body.
Her cries echoed weakly—
Desperate.
Alone.
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