Alabasta — Royal Capital, Albana.
The midday sun carved short, ink-dark shadows across the palace stone.
From the shaded terrace above the plaza, Crocodile watched the battlefield below.
Royal soldiers and rebel forces collided like two opposing tides. Steel clashed. Bodies fell. Dust mixed with blood and sweat into a metallic stench carried by the desert wind.
His favorite scent.
Everything unfolded exactly as written in his script.
This nation, its throne, its history — all were nearing their final act.
A slow smile formed beneath his cigar.
"How foolish… insects."
He let sand sift through his fingers.
"This country is about to welcome its true ruler."
He savored the moment like a god observing mortals drown in false hope.
Then—
a chill crept along his spine.
Not imagination.
Instinct.
The primal sensation of being watched by something older… higher… predatory.
"Hm?"
His perception expanded outward across Albana.
No powerful presences.
No approaching threat.
He frowned.
Was he becoming paranoid?
Then—
BOOM—!!!
The sky split with thunder.
Not one explosion.
Twelve.
Twelve streaks of fire arced across the horizon and slammed into the outer edge of the palace square with surgical precision.
Shockwaves rippled through stone and shattered the palace stained glass.
The battlefield froze.
Rebels. Royal troops. Civillians.
All stared toward the smoke.
Crocodile's pupils contracted.
"The Navy…?"
Impossible.
Albana lay deep inland.
Naval bombardment here defied geography.
And this scale of coordinated firepower was far beyond an ordinary branch decision.
On the horizon, dust clouds surged forward.
Not ships.
Machines.
A dozen massive tracked artillery platforms rolled across the desert like armored beasts, their reinforced hulls grinding sand into smoke. Each carried naval gunners standing rigid at their mounts.
Mobile siege artillery.
Desert-adapted.
Military-grade.
Panic rippled through the battlefield.
"What are those?!"
"Is the Navy shelling the city?!"
"Civilians are here!"
Then a Den Den Mushi megaphone crackled across Albana.
Smoker's voice cut through the dust-choked air:
"Rebel forces! You have been deceived by conspiracy and false provocation! Lay down your weapons and withdraw immediately!"
"Royal Army! Secure civilians and clear the perimeter! The battlefield is now under Marine control!"
"This is your final warning!"
At the bow of the lead crawler stood Smoker.
Bare-chested.
The word Justice stretched across his back.
Twin cigars burned from his lips, smoke trailing like signal fire.
His eyes locked onto the palace terrace.
Straight at Crocodile.
"And you…"
His voice hardened.
"Shichibukai Crocodile."
He lifted his hand toward the sky as if swearing before unseen authority.
"In the name of Marine Headquarters Logistics Chief — KING…"
"Your desert kingdom… your conspiracy…"
"Ends today."
Silence fell.
The name echoed.
KING.
Crocodile felt that same chill tighten in his chest.
Who is this man?
Why does the name alone feel like a blade at my throat?
"Don't speak nonsense!"
Crocodile roared, forcing down unease as a sandstorm erupted around him, spiraling skyward.
"You think a mere colonel can challenge me?!"
"Do you want to die?"
"Die?" Smoker's grin widened, feral.
"Under the authority of justice, we stopped fearing death long ago."
"Let me show you."
The deck beneath Smoker split open.
Hydraulics roared.
A reinforced launcher rose into position — heavy steel ribs locking into place around a cylindrical chamber wrapped in insulated conduits.
Seastone fittings.
Chain stabilizers.
Energy-assisted deployment rails.
A weapon engineered for one purpose:
capture, not kill.
Crocodile didn't move.
"Projectiles are useless against me."
His body dispersed into drifting sand.
Smoker pressed the trigger.
WHOOOOSH—
A pale blue burst launched forward — not a projectile, but a rapidly expanding lattice of energy-stabilized cable.
Within the lattice:
hundreds of seastone nodes.
The net expanded mid-flight.
Too fast.
Too wide.
Even dispersal could not evade the spread.
The lattice passed through his sand form—
and activated.
"—GHHHHHHH!!"
The scream tore from Crocodile's throat before he hit the ground.
Pain exploded through him.
Not weakness.
Pain.
Seastone disrupted his Devil Fruit control.
Energy currents constricted the lattice, forcing cohesion.
His body reconstituted violently.
He dropped from the air and slammed into the plaza, stone fracturing beneath him.
The net cinched tight.
His sand powers collapsed under suppression.
Blue burn marks spread across his skin where seastone nodes contacted flesh.
The plaza fell silent.
Royal Army.
Rebel forces.
Civilians.
Even the distant Straw Hat crew stared in stunned disbelief.
The untouchable Warlord…
captured.
Princess Nefertari Vivi covered her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks.
The war might actually end.
Monkey D. Luffy clenched his fists, jaw tight — not with excitement, but gravity.
"That smoker guy… who did he say?"
Roronoa Zoro tightened his grip on Wado Ichimonji.
"…KING."
"Who the hell is that?"
Smoker stepped down from the artillery platform and approached the fallen Warlord.
His shadow swallowed Crocodile's prone form.
"See this?"
He crushed his cigar beneath his boot.
"Before real justice… your plans were nothing."
"You… fools…"
Crocodile struggled, eyes blazing with rage and disbelief.
"The Navy… deploying this… against a Shichibukai…"
"The World Government would never allow it…"
Smoker's expression hardened.
"We're not here on behalf of the government."
"We're here to enforce justice."
Behind him, Marines leveled their rifles and shouted:
"Justice will prevail!"
The sound rolled across Albana like thunder.
Crocodile's breath faltered.
KING.
The name echoed again and again inside his skull.
A man who could mobilize the Navy like this…
authorize weapons of this level…
and ignite such fanatic resolve…
When…
did such a figure appear on the seas?