"Has it really come to this...?"
After a burst of helpless rage, King Cobra calmed himself, forcing his mind to confront the grim reality before him.
Things hadn't yet reached their worst. There was still a chance to turn them around.
"If we send out our army to assist in eliminating Crocodile, could the fee—Ten billion Beli—be reduced at all?"
The king of Alabasta asked the question like a common merchant haggling over a deal.
"Impossible. At least, that's what they say," came the weary reply. "In the desert, it's nearly impossible to surround and kill Crocodile with numbers alone."
Behind him, Vivi gently massaged her father's shoulders. Her delicate, beautiful face was full of worry.
"Ren said it himself," she murmured softly. "Crocodile is a true pirate. Once he realizes the situation is hopeless, he'll retreat immediately—and then the kingdom will have to face the revenge of a madman.
"Endless sandstorms, unrelenting droughts—they'll destroy this nation completely.
"If we cut ties between the royal family and Ren's group, even if they fail, Crocodile won't lose his mind. Then we'd still have another chance—to gather evidence and ask the Marines for help."
At that, Vivi suddenly froze. "That's right! Father, why don't we ask the Marines for help? We're a member nation, aren't we?"
"It's not that simple."
Cobra gently pulled his daughter to face him, brushing her slightly dry hair with a look of sorrow.
"Crocodile is one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea—pirates chosen by the World Government itself. He represents part of the Government's authority. Without solid proof, the Marines can't intervene.
"And besides, asking the Marines to interfere in the internal affairs of a member nation comes with a price.
"The Heavenly Tribute we pay only allows them to establish bases here, to patrol and keep order.
"If we want more than that, we have to pay more tribute.
"But... we don't have that kind of money anymore.
"Once we open that door, we'll fall into an irreversible cycle."
Cobra didn't tell her the worst part.
The truth was—the Heavenly Tribute demanded by the World Government rose year after year.
Some nations that begged for Marine intervention later found their tribute increased so high they could no longer afford it.
Those kingdoms lost their status as member nations, plunging into ruin.
Many kings called it the Tribute Cycle.
The World Government was rich, yes—but the Celestial Dragons, the so-called rulers of the Holy Land Mary Geoise, produced nothing.
They were born to indulge, to exploit, to drain the world dry—and they believed that was their divine right.
So where did the funds come from to sustain the massive Navy, the Celestial Dragons, and all the research institutions under the Government's name?
The answer: from the flesh of the member nations themselves.
The tributes were a form of protection money—tribute wrung from the people to feed the Government and its lords.
For every kingdom, these taxes were a suffocating burden.
Alabasta had survived only because of its vast size and resources.
But Crocodile's schemes had pushed them to the edge of collapse.
Cobra also knew that unlike him, many rulers were far from virtuous. They cared only about their own luxury, so they plundered their people mercilessly.
After all, only after paying the Heavenly Tribute did the rest of the wealth belong to them.
And in the eyes of those few farsighted kings, the very reason this Great Pirate Era had emerged—was precisely because of that vicious cycle born from the Heavenly Tribute system.
Yes—A vicious cycle.
Most nations could barely pay the tribute, so exploitation was inevitable.
And once the people were squeezed dry, even a single disaster could drive them to ruin.
Some killed themselves. Some turned to crime. Some sold themselves into slavery.
But most... most were lured by the promise of the "Great Treasure." They took to the seas in desperate pursuit of fortune.
And thus, pirates multiplied.
Those who couldn't pay the tribute met the opposite fate—without Marine protection, non-member nations were constantly plundered by pirates.
Rebuilding couldn't keep pace with destruction. Prosperity waned. Populations starved. Kingdoms fell.
The survivors, with nowhere else to turn, became pirates themselves.
More pirates meant a need for a larger Navy.
A larger Navy meant greater military expenses—and that, in turn, meant even higher tributes.
But the share reserved for the Celestial Dragons could never be reduced.
So the World Government simply raised the overall amount.
Those who couldn't pay lost protection, fell to ruin, and gave birth to even more pirates.
Thus, the cycle of death turned endlessly.
Cobra knew that the World Government was fully aware of this.
And yet—neither the officials nor even the Five Elders showed any intention to change it.
That was when he remembered the legend.
A horrifying, ancient legend whispered among the kings—one none dared to confirm as true.
The "Human Hunting Tournament."
And the ones behind it... were none other than the so-called descendants of the Creator—the Celestial Dragons.
No matter what the outside world called them, Cobra, who knew their origins, understood what they really were—just a group of royal bloodlines from various lands that had gathered together and elevated themselves above others.
And yet, every Celestial Dragon held supreme power.
They believed themselves superior beings.
They didn't see the rest of humanity as human.
But they did recognize one another as the same race—and like any race, they shared customs and traditions.
Over centuries, these shared indulgences became ritual.
Thus emerged what the Dragons called the "Human Hunting Tournament."
The concept was simple.
Every three years, the Celestial Dragons would select a nation—not a member nation, but one rich in resources—from the world.
Sometimes the target was chosen simply because a place had "offended" them—its name might include a word they deemed divine, or its people had looked at them the wrong way.
Whatever they decided was an insult, was an insult.
And so, the chosen nation became the target—the hunting ground for their tournament.
It was said—though only said—that once the target was chosen, the World Government's fleets would seal off all sea routes around that nation.
Then the CP agents—or the Dragons themselves—would eliminate the country's leadership: kings, nobles, anyone capable of organizing resistance.
With the government decapitated, chaos would reign.
The Celestial Dragons would then release their "special" slaves—those rebellious or unique—onto the island as participants.
Then the hunt would begin.
As the name suggested, every non-Dragon human on the island became prey.
The "beasts" hunted one another, their kills tallied as points for sport.
Sometimes even the Dragons descended to the ground themselves, starting with negative scores for the thrill of the game.
When it was over, the annihilated nation became a "resource island" of the World Government.
When Cobra first heard this legend, he dismissed it as absurd nonsense.
But after exchanging stories with other ancient royal families, he began to suspect a terrifying truth.
The World Government always claimed that over a hundred nations under its flag represented the majority of the world.
Yet, centuries ago, that had not been the case.
When the Government was first founded, most of the world consisted of independent, neutral nations cut off by the sea.
But as the Dragons' "Human Hunting Tournament" continued every three years, those nations began to "vanish"—destroyed by so-called "natural disasters."
And in time, they all became lands under the Government's rule—the very foundation of the Celestial Dragons' empire.
Gradually, what the World Government called "the majority of nations" became true.
And once Cobra grasped the origin of this legend, he realized a dreadful possibility:
In some distant future, there would be only one nation left in the world—
The World Government itself.
Or rather—the Divine Kingdom of the Celestial Dragons.
By then, there would be no member nations left. They would all have lost their status to pirate devastation... and been slaughtered in the Human Hunting Tournament, becoming "resource islands."
If that was true—then everything made sense.
Of course, Cobra never dared to speak this aloud.
He locked the thought deep in his mind.
He was a king—but only of Alabasta.
His duty was to shield his people and preserve his nation's existence.
The far-off future—centuries ahead—was beyond his power to change.
If even a rumor of this reached the wrong ears, it could bring catastrophe upon them.
The World Government had exterminated entire nations before.
In fact, its power had been built upon the corpses of kingdoms.
And that was why Cobra never spoke the truth—why their kingdom's decline had so many roots he dared not name.
But none of this was Vivi's fault. She had already done everything she could, bringing home intelligence of vital importance.
She had exposed Crocodile's ambition. How could he ask any more of her?
So when Vivi lowered her head, frustration clouding her face, Cobra merely smiled gently and ruffled her sky-blue hair.
"It's all right," he said softly. "Leave it to your father."
Vivi looked at him, worried, but obediently held her tongue.
Igaram had remained silent throughout, watching quietly.
After all, he was only a soldier.
Then, King Cobra began making preparations.
He couldn't send his army to war—but he could still follow the plan Ren had laid out.
The information Vivi and Igaram brought back included not only Crocodile's conspiracy... but also a plan to fight back.
First—
They would need a great rain.
(End of Chapter)