The battle between Katakuri and Enel was growing ever more intense. Meanwhile, Crocodile was steadily learning the secrets of Haki through his relentless clash with the biscuit soldiers.
He had no choice but to figure it out. Those biscuit soldiers were simply too tough. Ordinary attacks could barely crack them, and relying on the Desert Diamond Blade nonstop would drain his stamina before long.
Before long, his sand blade was coated in Armament Haki. When he slashed into a biscuit soldier, purple-black sparks crackled visibly in the air.
Cracker, blinded by arrogance, hadn't even noticed Crocodile's rapid improvement. He cowered behind his biscuit creations, sealed inside an impenetrable shell. No matter how hard Crocodile attacked, he hadn't even grazed a hair on the man.
"What a spineless coward!"
Crocodile whipped around and cleaved a biscuit knight clean in half with a sweep of his sand blade, then spat out the words in disgust.
Yet the truth gnawed at him—there was nothing he could do about Cracker's approach. At first, he'd assumed that no matter how many biscuit soldiers Cracker summoned, there had to be a limit. But he'd learned otherwise. Creating another biscuit soldier cost Cracker virtually nothing.
It was Crocodile's own stamina that was hemorrhaging with every exchange. The sheer number of enemies overwhelmed even his still-untrained Observation Haki, and he'd taken more than a few hits.
His gaze shifted restlessly, scanning not just the front but everywhere behind him as well.
Being attacked from both sides at once was suffocating.
He cursed himself silently for coming out here alone with the "long-eared freak."
For the first time, he admitted Doflamingo had been right. That treacherous flamingo had wanted them to gang up on Katakuri from the start, and Crocodile had dismissed it as unnecessary.
Now Enel seemed to be holding his own, but Crocodile himself was stuck in a hopeless stalemate against Cracker.
If only he had an ally right now—even that stone-faced swordsman with the permanent expression would do. Slicing through steel was child's play for Dracule Mihawk. These biscuit soldiers would make perfect whetstones for him.
But Crocodile shook the thought away.
If he couldn't even handle an opponent like this, how could he ever challenge the strongest man in the world?
The voice inside him echoed louder. Cracker was just an ordinary officer of the Charlotte Family—not even a Sweet Commander at this point. If he couldn't put someone like that down, he should forget all dreams of becoming Pirate King.
In that brief moment of distraction, countless biscuit soldiers surged forward again. The desert was crawling with them, an endless tide of biscuit-clad warriors that filled the horizon on every side.
Crocodile's eyes darkened. As his resolve hardened, his power surged with it. Something deep within his core responded to his will, the Logia power bending to his iron determination. He swung both arms wide and unleashed a colossal sand vortex.
"Get out of my way, you insects!"
"Sandstorm—Tornado!"
A massive whirlwind erupted from Crocodile's body, dragging countless grains of sand into its violent spiral. The tornado climbed thousands of meters into the sky, its column of grit and wind tearing a path through the clouds.
In an instant, a cyclone tens of meters wide roared across the landscape. Its ferocious winds tore at the earth, ripping up grass, soil, and everything in their path.
Every biscuit soldier was snatched into the air and shredded to pieces by the sheer force.
This kind of devastating power was a natural disaster made manifest.
Golden sand flooded the entire island in seconds. The air grew so thick with grit that breathing felt like swallowing razors.
Below the palace, in the streets of the town, citizens clung to one another in terror. Some fell to their knees and prayed, while others simply stood frozen, watching the wall of sand blot out the sky. The king finally understood—Katakuri and the others hadn't left due to poor hospitality. Attackers had come.
But he had no intention of intervening.
His nation flew Big Mom's flag, but they were not pirates. They owed no obligation to fight on the Big Mom Pirates' behalf. It was Big Mom who collected protection fees and was supposed to keep them safe.
Moreover, battles at this level were far beyond anything he or his soldiers could join. The priority had to be protecting his own people and himself.
As for the devastation outside the city walls—
He glanced at the monstrous sand tornado and felt every trace of resistance leave him. The power of a Logia user was simply something ordinary people had no means of opposing.
All he could do was pray the Big Mom Pirates would prevail.
The man they placed their hopes on was starting to find things troublesome.
"To kick up a tornado this massive out here—that guy actually has some talent," Cracker muttered, his expression sour. He had no idea how long the sandstorm would last. At this rate, his biscuit soldiers would be worthless.
But the storm soon began to subside. Maintaining something of this magnitude had even Crocodile breathing hard.
"So what happened? Can't keep the sandstorm going? Your stamina's run dry, hasn't it?" Once the dust settled, Cracker caught sight of the man in the long coat standing alone on the sand and immediately launched into mockery.
The outskirts were now blanketed in Crocodile's sand. A layer over ten centimeters deep covered the ground, testament to the sheer scale of the storm.
"Too bad. My biscuit soldiers are limitless." Cracker grinned, clapped his hands, and instantly an army of biscuit soldiers materialized before him.
"Hmph. I just thought of a more efficient approach."
Crocodile snorted coldly. Rather than burning through his energy maintaining such a destructive technique, he had a new idea.
It wasn't exactly original, but since they were both Devil Fruit users, borrowing a page from each other's playbook wasn't going to cost him royalties.
"Desert Hell!"
With Crocodile's hoarse voice ringing out, every grain of sand across the battlefield seemed to come alive, surging and churning in a vast undulating tide.
The sand didn't just roll like waves. It rose upward, forming mounds several meters high. As the grains cascaded down the dunes, monstrous figures composed entirely of sand took shape before Cracker's eyes—towering constructs with hollow sockets and jagged limbs, rising from the earth like ancient guardians awakened from centuries of sleep.
"Well? My sand monsters aren't bad, are they?" Crocodile grinned, a smug glint in his eye as he looked toward Cracker.
His message was clear: your moves aren't bad, but now they're mine.
[
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