The Alabastan desert was a crucible of sun and sand, a vast, golden oven under a merciless, bleached-white sky. The heat was a physical force, pressing down on them, making the very air shimmer and waver.
"How can it be so HOT?!" Usopp wailed, his voice cracking with exhaustion. He was dragging his feet, leaving twin trenches in the soft sand, each step a monumental effort. His canteen was already worryingly light.
The situation was even worse for Chopper. His natural, thick reindeer fur, a blessing in the snows of Drum Island, was a death trap here. Even in his small form, the heat was overwhelming. He panted heavily, his tongue lolling out, his steps becoming increasingly unsteady. "Too... hot... too... hot..." he whimpered, his eyes glazing over.
Seeing his friend on the verge of heatstroke, Mario didn't hesitate. He scooped the small reindeer up and settled him on his shoulders. "Hang in there, Chopper. Just rest."
Surprisingly, Karoo seemed the least affected. The super spot-billed duck, a native of this harsh climate, waddled along with a determined, if weary, "Quack!", his large feet well-adapted to the scorching sand.
They had made good time, covering a significant distance in a single day. Mario had used the journey as a training exercise, pushing his endurance with long, ground-eating strides using Soru. Usopp and Chopper had taken turns riding on Karoo's back, but even that respite wasn't enough against the oppressive, all-consuming heat.
What Mario found strange, however, was his own condition. While Usopp was dehydrated and Chopper was nearly comatose, Mario felt... comfortable. He was sweating, yes, but his breathing was even, and the heat felt more like a strenuous sauna than a life-threatening ordeal.
He chalked it up to his heightened physical conditioning and Haki, which seemed to grant him a resilience that defied the environment. He didn't dwell on it, simply accepting it as another advantage in their desperate mission, a small mercy in the face of the desert's wrath.
***
After a grueling day beneath the blistering sun, night fell with a swift, chilling finality. The desert, unforgiving in its heat, became equally merciless in its cold. They found shelter among a jagged formation of wind-scoured rocks, setting up a sparse camp. The temperature plummeted, a stark contrast to the inferno of the day.
"Maybe I should have gone with Luffy," Usopp chattered, his teeth clacking together as he huddled under two thick blankets, shivering violently. Karoo, looking far more content, had snuggled as close to their small, crackling fire as was safely possible.
"Ahhhhh, much better," Chopper sighed in relief, sprawled flat on the cool sand, his fur finally a blessing instead of a curse as he enjoyed the crisp night breeze.
Mario smiled, appreciating the cold's numbing effect on his tired muscles. "Well, the good news is we're close to Katorea," he said, studying Vivi's map by the firelight. "If we keep this pace, we could be there in a couple of days."
"Is that where the rebel army is?" Usopp asked, his voice muffled by the blankets.
"Yes," Mario confirmed, his tone turning serious. "Our mission is to convince their leader that this entire war is a futile, manufactured scheme by Crocodile."
"But will he even listen to us?" Chopper asked, rolling onto his side.
"For the future of this kingdom, he'll have to," Mario stated, his resolve clear.
"Okay, now we need to train," Mario announced, rising to his feet and dusting the sand from his pants.
"Man, Mario, there's no need for you to train that hard," Usopp groaned from his cocoon.
"Oh, I'm not talking about me," Mario said, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. "It's you and Chopper who are training tonight."
"Scuse me?!" Usopp yelped, sitting bolt upright.
"That's right, both of you," Mario declared, his expression turning stern. "I'm going to train you so I can confidently leave you to handle a fight on your own if I have to."
"Nononono! I don't want to train! Not NOW! We ran through the desert all day!" Usopp pleaded, scrambling backward.
"And that was called cardio!" Mario retorted, striding forward and effortlessly hauling a protesting Usopp to his feet. He then gently nudged a confused Chopper. "Now, it's time to sharpen your senses and your instincts!"
"Noooooo!" Their cries of protest echoed through the silent desert, but were utterly futile against Mario's determination.
For the next few hours, under the vast, starry sky, Mario put them through a grueling regimen. His focus was twofold. For Chopper, it was practical self-defense, honing the reindeer's natural strength and speed in his various forms into more effective combat techniques.
But his primary focus was Usopp. Mario had watched the sniper too many times to dismiss his accuracy as mere luck. The way Usopp's projectiles found their marks against impossible odds, the way he could sense distant threats—it was inhuman. Mario was now certain: Usopp possessed a latent, untapped form of Observation Haki, a sniper's intuition made manifest. Tonight, he wouldn't try to force it open, but he would push Usopp to his limits, forcing him to rely on those very instincts, hoping to make the sniper aware of the incredible potential lying dormant within him.
He drilled them until both Usopp and Chopper collapsed onto the sand, breathing in ragged, exhausted gasps. Only when he was satisfied they had nothing left to give did Mario allow them to crawl back to their bedrolls and succumb to a deep, immediate sleep. As the embers of their fire died down, Mario kept watch, knowing that tomorrow was a new day, and every ounce of strength he could forge in his friends was another step toward saving a kingdom.
***
After two more grueling days beneath the relentless sun, the sight of a small, fortified settlement of desert traders was a mirage made real. Usopp and Chopper wept with sheer, unadulterated joy, their parched throats and exhausted bodies finally sensing respite. Mario simply smiled at their antics, a fond weariness in his own heart.
The traders, a hardy and hospitable people, welcomed them without question. They shared precious water, warm stew, and shelter from the elements. Usopp, upon tasting real, cooked meat after days of dry jerky, broke down into a fresh wave of tears, declaring it the greatest meal of his life.
As they sat around a crackling fire that night, an old, wizened trader named Dabro, his face a roadmap of desert journeys, fed another piece of dried scrubwood into the flames. "So, travelers," he began, his voice a dry rasp, "where does your path lead you?"
"We are on our way to Katorea," Mario answered.
Dabro's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Katorea? You know that's the revolutionary army's turf now," he said, a note of caution in his tone.
"That is exactly why we are going there."
"To join them?" Dabro asked, his expression growing worried. Not everyone in Alabasta supported the rebellion.
"No. No," Mario assured him calmly. "We just need to speak with their leader. We aim to stop him."
"Ahhh, yes," Dabro sighed, visibly relieved. "Well, you'll need to try very hard. After he was shot, I don't think you'll have much luck. His people are furious now."
Mario's heart skipped a beat, his strategic timeline collapsing in an instant. "Wait, he was shot? Already?" The words came out sharper than intended.
Dabro looked at him curiously. "What do you mean, 'already'? Anyway, yes. He was shot during a rally and was taken back to their base. God knows what will happen next." He took a slow sip of his bitter herbal tea.
Mario's mind raced, the new information slamming into his plans. The pivotal event—the shooting of the rebel leader, Kohza, by Mr. 2—had already occurred. He was too late to prevent the catalyst. The next domino to fall would be Pell's near-fatal injury, and then the war would be unstoppable.
His original plan was in ashes. He couldn't stop the war at its source in Katorea; the rage was already boiling over.
A new, more drastic strategy crystallized in his mind with chilling clarity. Change of plans.
He wouldn't stop the rebellion at its camp. He would stop it at the gates.
He needed to get to the capital, Alubarna, immediately. His new objective was clear: intercept the revolutionary army before they could enter the city. He would stand between them and the royal guards. He would try to talk them down, to make them see the manipulation. And if words failed... he would use force. He would hold that line himself if he had to, breaking their advance and preventing a bloody clash in the city streets. Once the rebel army was stalled, he could then turn his attention to the real enemies—the Baroque Works agents infiltrating the capital. He would hunt them down, one by one, and dismantle Crocodile's scheme from the inside.
The path was now infinitely more dangerous, a solo stand against a tide of anger and manipulation. But it was the only path left that could save countless innocent lives.