Chapter 30: Undercurrents
Their journey continued.
But faster than any ship was the spread of information.
The name of [The Demon] Alvin Vergil swiftly crossed the seas via News Coos.
His wanted poster, in particular, caused a considerable stir.
Why?
The reason was simple. The incident had unfolded so rapidly that even the usually omnipresent government photographers had struggled to capture a clear image. The only usable shot was taken at the very end, at the Sabaody port, as Vergil stood on the deck and unleashed his roaring blast toward Garp on the shore.
Click.
The shutter snapped. But the image it froze was not of Vergil's human form. It captured the terrifying composite form of [Chīguǐ · Xiǎofēng]—the fusion of Earth and Wind.
Dark green, curving horns. Crimson skin stretched over streamlined, powerful muscle. A burly, inhuman frame. A spine studded with jade-green scales.
All these elements merged into something alien and monstrous. The wanted poster displayed the precise moment this "demon" was mid-roar, mouth agape in a silent, violent scream.
...
For ordinary citizens, the photo was utterly terrifying.
Twisted. Monstrous. A nightmare given form.
No words could quite capture the chill it sent down the spine upon first glance.
For the powerful players already on the sea, such a wanted poster also left a stark impression. The more significant point, however, was the initial bounty attached to this [Demon]:
500,000,000 Berries!
It was… audacious. An undercurrent began to circulate among the world's major powers, a subtle shifting of attention and calculation, all centered on this new, explosive variable.
...
The New World.
"Fos fos fos fos! Hey! What race is this 'Alvin Vergil'? A real-life demon? A Mythical Zoan user? Well, well, a rare specimen indeed! I'd love to add him to my 'Nation'!"
...
Reverse Mountain, entrance to the Grand Line.
"Oi, Beckman, see this? Another monster sets sail! A five-hundred million berry debut! That's no joke!"
"Shanks! Keep your eyes on the water! We're about to hit the Calm Belt currents!"
"Just saying! I'd love to share a drink with a guy like that someday! Alright, men! Hold tight! Next stop, the East Blue!"
...
Fish-Man Island, Royal Palace.
"Kurara ra ra ra! My old friend! It seems the world above was throwing quite the party while we were feasting! A demon, you say? How interesting…"
...
The South Blue, a certain expeditionary force camp.
"Oioioi! This form… it's definitely a Mythical Zoan! The power! I want him! I want him to join my crew! Hey, Queen! Figure out a way to recruit him! I'm itching for a real brawl!"
...
Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral's Office.
Sengoku and Tsuru both stared at the day's newspaper and the accompanying wanted poster.
"That unreliable Garp!" Sengoku grumbled, massaging his temples. "To let someone this dangerous slip away…"
"I believe Garp minimized the collateral damage," Tsuru replied calmly, her voice laced with weary pragmatism. "Forcing a full confrontation with a Mythical Zoan user of that caliber on Sabaody… most of the archipelago would be at the bottom of the sea now."
"…"
The statement was undeniable. Sengoku could only sigh in frustration. "Have all branches keep an ear to the ground for Vergil's movements. We need to contain this before it escalates."
"And make sure Garp files a complete after-action report this time," he added sternly. "No more 'I forgot the details'!"
"Don't worry, I'll see to it," Tsuru assured him, though her sigh spoke volumes. "This sea grows more turbulent by the day. We must be prepared for the storms to come."
...
The North Blue, territory of the Donquixote Pirates.
Donquixote Doflamingo studied the news with a predator's interest. The [Demon] himself was noteworthy, but Doflamingo's sharp eyes locked onto a seemingly insignificant detail in the background of the wanted poster photo—a sliver of a distinctive coat, a hint of a hooked weapon.
Others might miss it. Doflamingo did not.
"Fufufufu… So the intel was correct. 'Sir Crocodile' left his precious desert kingdom after all. Getting involved in a mess like this… how careless."
He leaned back, a wide grin stretching his face. "If you're going to play with fire, you can't blame others for taking advantage of the smoke. And getting tangled up with a Celestial Dragon incident… I wonder if the World Government will still be so forgiving of their little Warlord?"
...
Aboard Crocodile's Ship.
Several days into their voyage, Crocodile finally received the expected, encrypted Den Den Mushi call.
"You Naval men," Crocodile's voice was a low, icy drawl as he cut off the sputtering excuses from the other end. "Let me remind you of one thing. I never asked for this Warlord title. You bestowed it because it was convenient for you. So unless you have solid, irrefutable evidence linking me to this Vergil individual… I suggest you focus your efforts elsewhere."
Click.
He hung up, letting out a slow breath of smoke. He knew the call was a mere formality, a probing shot. If the Marines seriously intended to move against him, the caller would have been the far more troublesome Tsuru, not some mid-level officer.
His gaze shifted to Vergil, who was leaning over the rail, watching the sea with childlike fascination. The "clues" this ancient being held about Pluton had better be worth the immense risk he was now shouldering.
Alabasta was almost within sight.
...
A few more days passed. Finally, after the long, tense voyage, land appeared on the horizon.
The superpower of the Grand Line's first half—the desert kingdom of Alabasta.
"Finally…" Crocodile exhaled, a genuine sense of relief washing over him. Compared to the damp, salty air, the dry, heat-baked winds of a desert kingdom were like a homecoming for the user of the Suna Suna no Mi. More importantly, the Road Poneglyph was within reach.
But in the next second, a discordant shriek cut through the air.
WHOOSH—BOOM!
A cannonball struck the sea just off their starboard side, sending a geyser of water onto the deck.
Crocodile was instantly on alert, body tensing. Alabasta was a peaceful nation under the benevolent rule of King Nefertari Cobra. Why was there coastal artillery here? Pirates?
He looked toward the source of the shot. What he saw baffled him further.
It wasn't a warship or a pirate vessel. It was a small, dilapidated civilian fishing boat. Two figures, one old, one young, stood on its deck, gesturing wildly and shouting in their direction.
"Tch." Crocodile's eyes narrowed. Hostility was hostility. His right hand dissolved, morphing into a massive, curved scimitar of solid sand, aiming to bisect the insolent little boat with a single swing.
But before the sand-blade could connect, a crimson blur shot past him.
Vergil, his right arm transformed into its stony, scaled Chīguǐ state, intercepted the blow, the sand-blade shattering harmlessly against his hardened forearm.
As the small fishing boat drifted closer, Vergil hopped over, easily plucking the two startled individuals—an old man and a teenage boy—and bringing them back to the main deck.
They were clearly not pirates. So why the attack?
Before Vergil could even ask, the old man began bowing repeatedly, his face pale with fear as he recognized Crocodile.
"F-Forgive us! W-We thought you were the enemy! Please, Sir Crocodile, don't be angry!"
The teenage boy, though also scared, stood a little straighter, his voice earnest. "Sir! Our neighbor country has declared war! Alabasta has imposed a temporary sea ban! We didn't know it was you! We're so sorry!"
"…"
Crocodile's gaze shifted slowly from the boy, to the old man, to Vergil's curious face, and back to the boy.
"Hm?"
He didn't fully understand the situation.
But a deep, instinctual thrill ran through him—the keen sense of a predator smelling unexpected opportunity.
War? A sea ban?
A slow, calculating smile began to spread beneath the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat.
The transitional voyage was over.
The main game had just begun.
(End of Chapter)
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