Goldenweek's fiery outburst against Crocodile left Vivi and Valentine wide-eyed with admiration.
It felt like chugging ice water in the middle of a blazing summer—refreshing and satisfying.
Even Rayno raised an eyebrow at her.
Tiny frame, explosive energy… not bad at all.
As for Crocodile?
He stayed silent for a beat.
As one of the Warlords, it wasn't in his nature to be rattled by a subordinate's outburst. To him, it was nothing more than the impotent anger of someone who had already lost.
Still—her defiance rubbed him the wrong way.
"Rayno… seems you've given them the illusion they can choose their own fate," he finally said, voice low and gravelly.
Rayno leaned back, legs crossed, staring calmly at the Den Den Mushi.
"Crocodile, don't think I don't know what you've been scheming in the shadows. If you pack your bags and leave Alabasta now, I might let you off the hook."
"But if you don't…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…you'll be buried beneath the sands you love so much."
Click.
The line went dead.
Three pairs of eyes sparkled with admiration.
Rainbase, Alabasta – Casino "Rain Dinners"
Inside his private office, Crocodile sat stiffly, the Den Den Mushi hanging limp in his hand.
"Rayno…"
His brow furrowed into a deep scowl, the scar across his face twitching with restrained fury.
That bastard actually hung up on him.
Unbelievable.
Just because he'd crushed a few agents, now he thought he could defeat a Warlord?
Fool.
Within Baroque Works, there was only one man Crocodile considered worth watching: Mr. 1.
Everyone else? Expendable.
"Another punk drunk on early success," Crocodile muttered.
"I've outlived a hundred like him. They all end up the same—dead in the gutter, heads full of empty pride."
A moment later, the door opened.
Nico Robin, clad in her usual chic ensemble, stepped in.
"You called for me?"
Crocodile waved her in with irritation.
"I was going to have you assist Mr. 3, but he failed. Surprise, surprise."
He clenched his cigar tighter.
"Inform Mr. 2 to intercept Rayno's crew at the next island."
"If they make it to Alabasta... Mr. 1 will deal with them personally. Let them feel the true weight of the Grand Line."
Robin nodded. "Understood."
But inwardly, she frowned.
Crocodile's getting rattled... That's rare.
Back on Little Garden
Rayno emerged from the wax house, flanked by Vivi and Valentine, both of whom instinctively looped their arms around his.
Goldenweek trailed behind, still stiff and awkward.
A few hours ago, she was trying to kill them. Now? She was part of the crew. And she'd just screamed at Crocodile.
Her head spun with it all.
"Let's go check in on Brogy and Dorry," Rayno said casually. "Sounds like they've started up again."
Far in the distance, thunderous clangs echoed through the forest.
As usual, the two giant warriors had resumed their endless duel—triggered, as always, by the island's volcanic eruptions.
Elsewhere on the Island
Nami and Tashigi had plunged deep into the jungle, cutting through wave after wave of oversized beasts.
One final thunderclap later, a ten-meter-tall saber-toothed tiger collapsed with a crash, smoke rising from its charred fur.
"Another one down," Nami said, reeling back her storm rod with a smirk.
"You've gotten even stronger," Tashigi said, catching up with a sweat-soaked face and flushed cheeks.
The compliments stopped as the ground trembled beneath them.
BOOM—
A deafening explosion rolled across the terrain, accompanied by a shockwave that lifted their hair and cloaks into the air.
"That again," Tashigi muttered, scanning with Observation Haki. "I've been hearing it after every volcanic eruption."
"Someone's fighting."
"Let's check it out."
Driven by curiosity, the girls dashed off through the forest.
After dodging twisted roots and ducking under massive leaves, they finally emerged into a clearing—and gasped.
Two towering figures, over 20 meters tall, clashed in the distance.
"Giants?!" Tashigi's jaw dropped.
What are warriors from Elbaf doing on an isolated island like this?
Their weapons clashed again with a resounding CLANG!
A massive greatsword collided with a massive war axe. Shockwaves rippled outward, flattening nearby trees and sending flocks of birds fleeing the canopy.
Brogy and Dorry pushed against each other with all their might, eyes wild and focused.
Each swing shook the jungle.
Each strike was the echo of a grudge that had lasted more than a century.
And yet—neither could best the other.