Ryoma naturally felt the gazes and reactions of those survivors, neither daring to approach nor flee.
They were being sensible, and Ryoma didn't plan on actively looking for trouble with them either.
In fact, it was the other side that had repeatedly come looking for trouble with him at the start. How nice it was to just not bother each other.
His attention fell on the port town, which had been destroyed beyond recognition by the aftershocks of the battle between the two.
This was Whiskey Peak, the first island after Reverse Mountain on the Grand Line, and also the place where the Straw Hat crew was about to land.
According to the original plot, they would meet Princess Vivi of the Alabasta Kingdom, who was undercover in Baroque Works, and thus get involved in a massive conspiracy to subvert the nation.
And now, the mastermind behind this conspiracy, Crocodile, had been dealt with by him in advance.
So...
Ryoma's thoughts began to drift.
Without Crocodile, would the civil unrest in Alabasta still happen?
Would Vivi still meet the Straw Hats and ask for their help?
The trajectory of history seemed to have deviated slightly because of his intervention.
However, it didn't matter to him. He wasn't the type of person to let an enemy go just to maintain the plot's development.
Besides, after this, the Alabasta Kingdom might end up having an easier time than in the original story.
Ryoma withdrew his thoughts, no longer paying attention to the bounty hunters shivering in the distance.
He turned and walked slowly toward a building that had been half-overturned by the aftershocks of the battle, picking out some relatively dry timber from the broken wooden beams and wall panels.
A moment later, a wisp of blue smoke rose, followed by flickering flames, and a simple campfire began to burn vigorously.
Ryoma sat down casually by the campfire and took out the log pose to check it.
The needle under the glass dome was trembling slightly, absorbing the unique magnetic force of this island. It looked like it would take some time to stabilize completely.
Although he possessed an eternal pose leading directly to Alabasta, Ryoma did not plan to head straight to that desert kingdom for the time being.
"Little Garden..."
That was an island that preserved scenes from the prehistoric era, as well as the two giants on the island who had been fighting for nearly a century for honor and dignity.
The warriors of Elbaf, Dorry and Brogy.
Their fighting techniques might be primitive, but that will and conviction carried through a hundred years was itself a power worth observing.
Perhaps it could provide some unique inspiration for his Haki. The path of the strong cannot do without learning from others.
As night fell, stars dotted the deep firmament.
Ryoma sat alone by the campfire, the firelight stretching his shadow long.
Not far away, Crocodile's mangled corpse was gradually being covered by sand kicked up by the night wind, as if this desert wanted to swallow it completely and return it to the dust.
When the next morning's light pierced the clouds, gilding the devastated island with a golden edge, Ryoma stood up, patted the sand off his clothes, and then strolled toward the town that had partially fallen into ruin.
Most of the buildings along the way had collapsed, but a few shops with sturdy structures had luckily survived.
Behind a massive cactus-shaped rock in the distance, several pairs of sneaky eyes peered through the cracks in the stone, cautiously monitoring Ryoma's movements.
Those surviving bounty hunters had endured an entire night there, and even now, they didn't dare to make any sudden moves.
Ryoma naturally noticed those gazes, but he didn't care at all. He walked straight into a general store with a crooked sign. The shop was a mess, with shelves overturned and goods scattered all over the floor.
He found the storage room and took enough fresh water for several weeks of sailing, along with a large amount of dried meat and dried fruits.
Having done all this, he pulled a stack of Berries from his pocket, counted them carefully, and placed a pile of banknotes neatly on the dust-covered counter according to the market price of the supplies.
Then he walked into a nearby tavern. The tavern's bar was broken in two, and various wine bottles were shattered everywhere. the air was filled with a strange smell of concentrated wine aroma mixed with dust.
Ryoma unceremoniously hauled hundreds of barrels of different types of rum and ale out of the wine cellar.
Similarly, a sum of Berries far exceeding the value of the alcohol was placed by him on the relatively intact end of the bar.
By the time he finished transporting those supplies to the area near the port, it was already noon.
The log pose on Ryoma's wrist, that tiny magnetic needle, finally stopped trembling and pointed steadily in the next direction.
Among the heavily damaged port and the widespread wreckage, he found a single-masted sailing ship that was still in fairly good condition.
This ship was slightly larger than his previous one, though the sails had been torn with several gashes by the shockwaves of the battle.
Ryoma casually condensed several tough ice threads, simply stitching the holes in the canvas, and then checked the wind direction and the rudder.
With everything ready, he untied the mooring ropes and set sail.
The small boat caught the wind, slowly sailing away from Whiskey Peak and gradually disappearing into the horizon where the sea met the sky.
It wasn't until the ship had completely turned into an invisible black speck at the junction of sea and sky that movement finally occurred behind the cactus mountain.
"Is... Is he gone?"
A bounty hunter asked with a trembling voice.
His legs had gone completely numb from maintaining the same posture for so long.
"He should be... really gone..."
Another person used binoculars to confirm several times before letting out a long breath, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.
Over a dozen figures emerged one after another from behind the cactus mountain, everyone walking with unsteady steps. They had hidden in one position for too long, and their feet and bodies were already numb.
They gathered by common consent in the center of the town. First, they looked at the corpse half-buried in sand with awe and terror, then they all looked toward the horizon where the small boat had disappeared. For a moment, no one broke the silence to speak.
"He... he paid..."
A bounty hunter was the first to break the silence, his voice dry and full of a sense of absurdity.
This discovery stunned everyone.
"That kind of monster... actually has such principles..."
A bounty hunter muttered to himself, his worldview suffering a violent shock at this moment.
A terrifying existence that could casually crush one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea to death would actually pay for taking some supplies from the ruins?
The terrifying image in their minds of someone decisive in killing and viewing human life as grass clashed violently with the image of him paying at the bar.
"Should... should we report this to the Marines?" Someone asked subconsciously.
"Report what?"
The person next to him immediately doused him with cold water.
"Are you crazy? Will the Marines believe that one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea was taken out so easily by one person? If this leaks out, do you think the World Government will avenge Crocodile?"
"And..."
An older bounty hunter added with a dry voice, "In case... in case that man finds out it was us who spoke, what do you think he would do?"
That one sentence made everyone present feel as if they had fallen into an ice cellar, a wave of cold air rushing from the soles of their feet straight to the crowns of their heads.
The crowd fell into a dead silence once more, no one mentioned the word "report" again.