A sand dune just beyond the edges of the Sandstone Basin.
Crocodile stood atop it, biting down on a cigar as wisps of smoke curled skyward. His brow creased into a deep scowl as he stared into the distance, eyes locked on the brutal duel below that was practically tearing the entire Sandstone Basin apart.
Monsters... the both of them.
He muttered inwardly, disturbed by what he saw. I heard that old man got seriously wounded by the Golden Lion once. So how the hell is he still this strong? And the other one... that man's strength surpasses what I originally calculated.
Both Aeridar and Syrons were powerhouses built for single-target combat. Crocodile, on the other hand, possessed devastating wide-range techniques, his sandstorms alone could sweep across half the Kingdom of Alabasta. But when it came to concentrated firepower, he was clearly outclassed.
Even his most lethal moves, Desert Spada and Ground Death, came up short compared to Syrons' Black Hammer: Void and Aeridar's Impact Cannon.
"I'll need a stronger move..." Crocodile murmured, his eyes gleaming with ambition.
Not far from the battlefield, at the outskirts of the basin, the Chris Pirates had run into the Marines.
"Marines?! It's the Marines!"
"Pirates? Wait, are those the Chris Pirates' officers?!"
Rounding a bend in the terrain, Arlan and the others came face to face with a squad of uniformed Marines. The reaction was mutual—the Marines, led by Rear Admiral Zoka and Commodore Cray, visibly tensed up at the sudden encounter.
The click of bullets chambered and the sound of swords being drawn echoed sharply as both sides stared each other down.
"Yo~ Marines, what's the deal? You looking for a fight?" Arlan smirked, lazily twirling his fingers.
"That's Gilbert Arlan, First Mate of the Chris Pirates and Captain of the Second Division. Bounty: 50 million Berries," one of the Navy Captains, wearing the signature Justice coat over a sleeveless vest, identified him aloud.
Before the rest of the Marines could react, Commodore Cray recognized another figure.
"And that's Oliver, the Slayer, Combat Commander and Captain of the First Division. Bounty: 60 million."
One by one, the identities of the crew members were called out.
"That's Hariel Gorbo, the Mighty Cook. He's the crew's head chef and Captain of the Third Division. Bounty: 35 million."
"And that's Myles Dimitri, the navigator and gunfighter. Bounty: 30 million."
"And those two twins... the ones with guns, Millie and Mina. Each has a bounty of 10 million."
At the sound of their ridiculous nickname, "the ones with guns," Millie and Mina both twitched at the corners of their eyes. Their pretty faces instantly darkened, baring fangs as they shouted in unison:
"You bastard Marines! Change that stupid nickname! Change it or we swear we'll murder you right here!"
"Easy! Easy!" Gorbo and Dimitri quickly stepped in, drenched in cold sweat as they held the enraged sisters back, afraid they might actually storm the Marine line and start a bloodbath.
"Heh, sharp as ever, Navy. Guess you've been lurking around here for quite a while if you could ID us so fast. Looks like you've been planning to wipe us out," Oliver sneered, resting a hand on the hilt of his blade.
Arlan narrowed his eyes, scanning the hundreds of well-trained Marines before them. Calmly, he said, "Only a few hundred foot soldiers... but you've got over a dozen commissioned officers, plus a Rear Admiral and a Commodore. Seems to me something big's going on with the Navy. Otherwise, there's no way you'd risk such a small detachment after lying in wait for so long. Am I wrong, Rear Admiral?"
The moment he spoke, several Marine officers stiffened, eyes wide in disbelief.
"How do you know that?" Zoka asked warily, his suspicions instantly aroused.
His first instinct was betrayal, someone in the Navy or the First Assault Fleet must've leaked intel. There was no other explanation.
His fleet was hidden inside a narrow sea channel, surrounded by towering cliffs nearly vertical in angle, impossible for most to climb. The closest villages, towns, and ports were over a hundred li away. Their only supply run had been led personally by him—a seasoned Haki user with Observation Haki. There should've been no way to uncover their position.
"Who knows?" Arlan grinned carelessly. "Just a hunch."
"Bastard!" Zoka's face twisted with fury.
Sensing his superior might lash out, Cray stepped forward, his tone cold. "What are you bastards planning?"
"We're here to keep an eye on you so you so-called justice junkies don't cheat," Gorbo scoffed, flexing his thick biceps.
"Bastards! You're the ones who don't play fair!"
"Evil pirates, you're the ones with no honor!"
"You little... one more word and I'll gut you!"
The Marines exploded into a frenzy of shouting and finger-pointing. Each one looked ready to break formation and start a massacre.
"Silence!" Zoka barked, raising a hand.
Instantly, the Marine soldiers fell quiet. They still glared daggers at the pirates, but no one made another sound.
Zoka knew exactly what the pirates were doing, baiting them. If the Marines struck first, it would ruin their reputation for discipline and honor. Worse, almost no one would make it out of this desert alive.
"Hmph. No matter what, we Marines have more honor than you sea rats," Cray sneered, his voice thick with contempt.
"Oh? That so?" Dimitri shrugged. "Then what are you planning to do about it?"
"It's not about what we want..." Zoka said coldly, removing the ten-hand pole from his back, eyes locked on Arlan and his crew. "It's about what you want."
"We?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, grinning darkly as his fingers tightened around his blade. "We're just waiting for you to make the first move. So we can cut you down."
"Hmph. We're waiting for you to move first too, so we can bury you," Zoka shot back without missing a beat.
"You'd better pray that Aeridar survives whatever Vice Admiral Syrons throws at him," Cray added in a low, dangerous voice. "Otherwise, when I go to settle the score with him myself, I'll be pissed if I can't find a body."
He still hadn't forgotten the sting of defeat Aeridar dealt him, not by a long shot.
"You should be the ones praying," Arlan said, grinning with schadenfreude. "If Syrons can survive our captain, that is. If he snaps, there won't be much of a corpse left to ID."
And so, the two sides stood there, barely meters apart, trading venomous barbs. Everyone was seething with rage, yet no one made a move. No one wanted to be the first to act, because that would be weakness. That would mean losing.
And neither side was willing to blink first.
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