The desert air was dead silent, broken only by the uneasy snorts of the camels. Haig and his entire gang of bandits were sprawled across the scorching sand, foaming at the mouth with their eyes rolled back, as if their very souls had been ripped from their bodies.
Jack was frozen atop his camel, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. The trembling that had shaken his body moments before was replaced by the rigid stillness of pure shock. He had watched with his own eyes as the bandits charged, only for them to collapse one by one, less than ten meters away, without any warning at all. The entire event was so bizarre it made his scalp tingle.
"Bro… Brother Black… what just happened?" Jack's voice was dry and shaky. He twisted his stiff neck to look at the young man beside him, who was still lounging as lazily as ever.
Kyle yawned, rubbed his eyes, and spread his hands with a look of perfect innocence. "Ahaha, I have no idea," he said, his tone pure and harmless. "Maybe it's just too hot. They were running so fast they probably got heatstroke. Look, it seems it's nap time for them."
Nap time? Heatstroke?
Jack looked at the dozens of unconscious, muscle-bound men on the ground, then back at Kyle's innocent face, and a deep chill ran up his spine. He was becoming more and more convinced that this young man who called himself a backpacker was someone far beyond his comprehension.
For the rest of the journey, the atmosphere in the caravan was strange. Everyone kept their distance from Kyle, watching him with a secret mixture of awe and fear. Only Jack, after the initial shock wore off, slowly regained his usual bravado.
They arrived safely at a town in Alabasta. As they were bidding farewell, Jack cleared his throat, puffed out his chest, and put on his tough desert-dweller persona once more. "Oh, Brother Black, honestly, don't think I wasn't going to do anything back there," he said, gesturing wildly. "I was just preparing to fake being weak to trick them! Who knew they were so sensitive to the sun? Back in my day, I traveled the desert alone for forty-nine days straight without even blinking!"
Kyle just smiled and nodded, not bothering to call him out. "You're a strong man, Brother Jack."
"That's right!" Jack lifted his chin proudly, then lowered his voice and leaned in. "Brother, listen to my advice. This place is dangerous. Alabasta hasn't been peaceful lately, so be careful out there on your own. Crocodile's territory… it has a way of swallowing people whole."
"Thanks for the warning, Brother Jack." Kyle waved goodbye and watched as Jack led the caravan down the street and out of sight. A more genuine smile touched his lips. He was an interesting person. This was exactly why he had hidden his identity, not even bringing his personal guard, and decided to visit this land incognito. He wanted to witness vivid people, experience their lives, and, of course, enjoy the thrill of being underestimated.
Kyle slipped into an empty alley, his figure twisting in the shadows. A few moments later, the simply dressed young backpacker was gone. In his place stood a flashy young heir, dripping with gold and silver jewelry. He wore a gaudy silk shirt, his hair was slicked back with pomade, and his face had the perfect expression of someone with more money than sense.
He swaggered out of the alley, leaning on a jewel-encrusted cane, immediately drawing the stares of everyone on the street.
Alabasta, Rainbase.
As a lawless city that even the Royal Army couldn't control, the air here was thick with the stench of money, alcohol, and the sickly-sweet metallic scent of despair. Raindinners, the largest casino in this desert oasis, was the heart of it all.
The main hall of the casino was deafeningly loud. Countless gamblers crowded around the tables, their faces a mix of ecstasy, fury, and numbness. The crisp clatter of dice, the shuffling of cards, and the raw shouts and wails of the patrons combined to create a symphony of pure desire.
"You're cheating! How dare you cheat in my territory!"
A furious roar shattered the noise at one of the tables. A large man, his eyes bloodshot from losing, suddenly flipped the entire table over, sending chips and glasses flying. He drew a scimitar from his belt and pointed it at the dealer's face, his own face a mask of rage.
Casino guards immediately moved to surround him, but the man was clearly a desperate outlaw. He waved his scimitar wildly, and for a moment, no one dared to get closer.
In the VIP area on the second floor, a figure sat in a large armchair. He wore a heavy black fur coat, completely out of place in the scorching desert heat. His left hand was a shining golden hook, and an expensive cigar was clamped in his mouth. The smoke swirled around his head, hiding most of his face but revealing a pair of cold eyes that looked down on everyone and everything.
Sir Crocodile, the Warlord of the Sea.
He didn't even turn his head. He simply waved his hand impatiently. A visible vortex of sand appeared out of nowhere and instantly engulfed the roaring troublemaker. The sand, like a swarm of hungry locusts, forced its way into the man's mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, covering every inch of his skin.
"Ah… ah ah…"
The man couldn't even manage a full scream. His body shriveled at an incredible speed as the sand drained every drop of moisture from it. His skin lost its luster and clung tightly to his bones until he was nothing more than a twisted, dry mummy, which fell to the floor with a hard thud.
The once-noisy hall fell completely silent. Every gambler froze, staring in horror at the mummy on the ground, cold sweat dripping from their foreheads.
Crocodile snorted, completely uninterested. He stood up and turned to walk into the office behind him. After the initial wave of fear passed, the atmosphere in the casino became even more frenzied. In the eyes of the gamblers, along with dread, there was a sick excitement. This was Raindinners, a mad paradise where the strong did whatever they wanted, and even life and death were just part of the game.
Soon, the guards cleared away the "trash," and the gambling resumed as if nothing had happened.
Just then, at the casino entrance, a waiter was greeting a new guest with a practiced, beaming smile. "Hello, sir, and welcome to Raindinners. What would you like to play today?"
The disguised Kyle took off his top hat, which was adorned with a massive feather, revealing a young and somewhat foolish-looking face. His flashy, gold-covered outfit made even the waiter, who saw rich people every day, feel a flicker of greed in his eyes.
This outfit… this expression… a wave of excitement surged through the waiter. A huge fish, fresh off the boat. This is going to be a very profitable night.
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I was on vacation, so I couldn't upload chapters for the past 10 days. From today, chapter uploads will resume daily without breaks. Starting tomorrow, bonus chapters will also be released.
You can read advanced chapters here: patreon.com/GregariousLion