Chapter 115: Sir Crocodile, Warlord of the Sea
A few days ago, the desert port town of Nanohana was alive with its usual rhythm, a bustling hub of trade and activity nestled on the edge of the vast Alabastan desert. The midday sun blazed down mercilessly, casting long shadows across the pale stone streets. Heatwaves shimmered in the air, distorting the horizon and making the distant dunes appear as if they were melting into the sky. The town was a cacophony of sounds—merchants haggling over prices, the clatter of hooves and wheels on cobblestones, and the distant cries of seagulls circling the docks. The scent of spiced meats roasting over open grills mingled with the salty tang of the sea, creating an intoxicating aroma that filled the air.
Nanohana was a town of contrasts. The wealthy traders and merchants flaunted their riches, their colorful robes and headscarves standing out against the more modest attire of the dockworkers and laborers. The port itself was a hive of activity, with ships of all sizes and origins bobbing in the harbor. Sleek pirate sloops with tattered Jolly Rogers, imposing Marine frigates with proud seagull emblems, and merchant vessels bearing the insignia of foreign kingdoms all jostled for space. The air was thick with the smell of brine, tar, and the faint tang of exotic spices from distant lands.
But beneath the veneer of normalcy, there was an undercurrent of tension. The Marines were out in force, their presence a constant reminder of the growing unrest in the kingdom. Uniformed officers patrolled the streets, their rifles slung over their shoulders, while others stood guard at the pier, scrutinizing every crate and questioning every merchant. The people of Nanohana went about their business, but there was a nervous energy in the air, as if everyone knew that something was about to happen.
And then it did.
The first sign of trouble came from the sea. A massive pirate vessel, its black sails emblazoned with a crimson skull and crossbones, appeared on the horizon. It was a ship unlike any that had ever docked in Nanohana—a monstrous galleon with three masts and a hull reinforced with iron plating. The ship moved with a terrifying speed, cutting through the waves like a predator stalking its prey. As it drew closer, the townspeople could see the crew—a motley assortment of hardened pirates, their faces scarred and their eyes filled with malice.
The ship docked with a thunderous crash, its gangplank slamming down onto the pier. The pirates poured out like a swarm of locusts, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. They moved with a ruthless efficiency, their laughter echoing through the streets as they began their assault on the town. The first to fall were the few Marine guards stationed at the docks. The pirates overwhelmed Them with sheer numbers, cutting them down before they could even raise their rifles. The sound of gunfire and the clash of steel filled the air, mingling with the screams of the townspeople as they fled in terror.
The pirates fanned out through the streets, their eyes gleaming with greed as they began looting the nearby buildings. They smashed windows, kicked down doors, and dragged out anything of value. Merchants who tried to protect their wares were met with violence, their cries for mercy falling on deaf ears. The pirates showed no mercy, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. The streets of Nanohana, once filled with life and laughter, were now a scene of utter chaos.
At the center of it all stood the captain of the pirate crew—a towering figure with a mane of wild, unkempt hair and a face twisted into a permanent sneer. He wore a long, tattered coat adorned with gold trimmings, and a cutlass hung at his side. In one hand, he held a flintlock pistol, its barrel still smoking from the shots he had fired. His name was Captain Dredge, and he was a man with a reputation for brutality.
Dredge raised his pistol into the air and fired a shot, the sound echoing through the streets. "Listen up, you dogs!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din of the chaos. "I am Captain Dredge, and I am here to claim what is rightfully mine! Crocodile, the so-called Warlord of the Sea, has grown weak and complacent. I will defeat him and take his place as the ruler of this land!"
As if to emphasize his point, Dredge turned and fired his pistol at a nearby merchant who had been trying to flee. The man fell to the ground, clutching his chest as blood pooled beneath him. Dredge laughed, a cruel, guttural sound that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. "This town is mine now!" he roared. "And anyone who dares to stand in my way will meet the same fate!"
The pirates cheered, their voices rising in a chorus of bloodlust and greed. They continued their rampage, looting and destroying everything in their path. The town of Nanohana, once a vibrant and bustling port, was now a war zone.
But then, as quickly as the chaos had begun, it was interrupted.
From atop a clock tower at the center of town, a figure appeared. He stood tall and imposing, his silhouette outlined against the blazing sun. His presence was enough to silence the pirates, if only for a moment. He wore a long, dark coat that billowed in the desert wind, and a wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his face. His most striking feature, however, was the golden hook that replaced his left hand, its surface gleaming in the sunlight.
It was Crocodile.
"Enough," he said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. "This foolishness ends here."
The pirates turned to face him, their weapons still in hand. Captain Dredge stepped forward, his sneer returning as he looked up at the Warlord. "Crocodile!" he shouted. "I was hoping you'd show your face. I'm here to take your place, old man. You're not fit to call yourself a Warlord anymore!"
Crocodile's expression remained impassive, his eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his hat. "You think you can challenge me?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing but a common thug, Dredge. A fool who doesn't know his place."
Dredge's face twisted in anger. He raised his pistol and fired a shot at Crocodile, the bullet tearing through the air. But before it could reach its target, Crocodile disappeared in a swirl of sand, only to reappear on the ground directly in front of Dredge.
The pirate captain stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. Crocodile stood before him, his golden hook glinting in the sunlight. His coat was open, revealing a muscular chest adorned with scars, and his face was as cold and unyielding as the desert itself. His sharp, angular features were framed by a neatly trimmed goatee, and his eyes—now visible—were a piercing shade of amber, filled with a quiet menace.
"What do you think of me now?" Crocodile asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Dredge snarled, his fear giving way to rage. "Tricks!" he shouted, swinging his cutlass at Crocodile with all his might. The blade passed through the Warlord's body as if it were made of air, and Dredge stumbled forward, off-balance. He quickly raised his pistol and fired, but the bullet simply passed through Crocodile's chest, leaving no mark.
Crocodile's lips curled into a faint smile. "A Logia-type Devil Fruit," he said, his voice almost conversational. "You can't harm me with mere steel and lead."
Before Dredge could react, Crocodile's golden hook shot forward, piercing the pirate captain's chest with a sickening crunch. Dredge's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. He slumped to the ground, lifeless.
Crocodile turned to the remaining pirates, his expression cold and unyielding. With a flick of his golden hook, he summoned a massive sandstorm that swept through the streets, engulfing the pirates in a whirlwind of sand and debris. When the storm subsided, the pirates lay in a heap, unconscious and defeated.
The townspeople, who had been watching in stunned silence, erupted into cheers. "Crocodile! Crocodile!" they chanted, their voices filled with gratitude and awe.
But as the cheers echoed through the streets, the royal guards arrived, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. They were too late to stop the pirates, but they were just in time to witness Crocodile's display of power. The Warlord turned to them, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. "You're always a step behind," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, with a swirl of sand, he vanished.
---
A few hours later, in the grand palace of Alubarna, King Cobra sat on his throne, his expression grave. Before him stood Chaka and Pell, the two head guards of the royal army. Chaka, a tall and muscular man with a stern expression, held a scroll in his hand—a report from the soldiers who had witnessed the events in Nanohana.
"Crocodile dealt with the pirates before we could even arrive," Chaka said, his voice filled with a mixture of admiration and unease. "He seems to always be where the pirates are attacking."
King Cobra nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "We owe him a great debt," he said. "Without his intervention, the people of Nanohana would have suffered greatly."
But Pell, the other head guard, stepped forward, his expression troubled. "Your Majesty, we cannot continue to depend on a pirate like Crocodile," he said. "He may have saved the town today, but his motives are unclear. We must be cautious."
King Cobra sighed, his gaze drifting to the window, where the desert stretched out as far as the eye could see. "Perhaps you're right, Pell," he said. "But for now, we have no choice but to accept his help. The storm is coming, and we must be ready."
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