Boom! Boom! Boom!...
The colossal sandstorm engulfing Alubarna—capital of Alabasta—continued its merciless onslaught, tearing into the palace district with a deafening rumble.
Buildings crumbled like paper before the wind's wrath. Walls that once stood proud were pulverized, fragments of stone and debris hurled into the air. Even solid rock was torn apart by the abrasive winds, ground into fine dust and swept into the sky.
The capital's mighty city walls groaned under the pressure. Deep cracks snaked across them—another few moments and they would collapse.
"The sandstorm hasn't stopped!"
Chaos erupted among the Rebel Army gathered at the palace gates.
"Why?! Crocodile's already been defeated—why hasn't the sandstorm ended?!"
"We'll be buried alive at this rate! The whole city—swallowed by this storm!"
"Princess Vivi said the sandstorm would disappear once Straw Hat beat Crocodile! So why is it still coming?!"
People stared helplessly at the towering wall of yellow sand advancing like a living beast, relentless and unstoppable.
Weapons—so deadly in human hands—were utterly useless here. What were blades and bullets against the fury of nature?
"Hiding won't save us!"
"Cough, cough! We saw it! People who stayed inside buildings—every roof got ripped right off! Not one person survived!"
Survivors, covered in grime and cuts, told their tales with trembling voices.
Even the elderly, hardened by a lifetime in the desert, had never witnessed a sandstorm of such magnitude.
"Oh, desert god… have mercy on us!"
"We were wrong, please forgive us!"
Some elders, revered across generations, dropped to their knees, bowing toward the wall of sand and sky, begging their god to spare them.
The people's despair was total.
"It's useless. Everything's useless. We're doomed…"
Just then, a voice echoed across the plaza—familiar, firm, and full of command.
"Everyone! Please remain calm!!!"
The King's Army parted reverently.
King Cobra appeared, supported by Princess Vivi, stepping into the crowd's view.
"The King! It's King Cobra!"
The news spread like wildfire, igniting a stir among the thousands gathered.
The crowd's noise swelled.
Even among the Rebel Army, eyes widened with guilt and awe.
Blood stained the King's face and clothes. His arms hung loosely at his sides, battered and broken.
Cobra stood tall despite the pain, his voice unwavering.
"Are we truly the kind of people who surrender so easily?! Stand! The battle is not over yet!"
The words pierced the crowd like lightning.
Even Vivi, by his side, was stunned.
"Father, you…"
Cobra smiled softly and stroked her light-blue, dust-covered hair.
"You've grown strong, Vivi. I'm proud of you."
Tears fell freely from Vivi's eyes.
"Father…"
Cobra took the Transponder Snail from her hands and stepped alone onto a nearby high platform—miraculously untouched by the storm.
Facing his people, Cobra held the receiver high and declared:
"People of Alabasta! Pick up your weapons… and fight the storm with me!"
Silence followed.
Confused eyes stared up at him.
Clang!
A single sword was picked up from the ground.
Then another.
The King's Army didn't question the order. One by one, they reclaimed their discarded weapons.
In the Rebel ranks, others began picking up arms too—not out of loyalty, but out of caution. They feared a surprise attack from the King's Army.
Cobra raised his voice once more:
"Our enemies are not our fellow countrymen!"
"They are pirates, schemers, outsiders… and even disasters like this sandstorm!"
Gasps spread through the ranks. His words—filled with forgiveness and unity—shook the hearts of many.
Regret flashed on many faces. Their prior hatred and rage suddenly seemed meaningless.
Cobra's voice thundered again:
"People of Alabasta!"
"Raise your weapons—not against each other—but against the threats that endanger our nation!"
"Our blades will defend the kingdom—not divide it!"
A high-pitched screech echoed overhead.
Pell, in his falcon form, descended gracefully before the platform.
Cobra, with practiced ease, flipped onto Pell's back. He drew the blade strapped to Pell's back, pointed it at the sandstorm, and shouted:
"With me—charge! Let's tear down the storm that seeks to take our lives!"
Pell spread his wings wide and soared low over the crowd, heading directly toward the monstrous sandstorm.
The King's Army was first to follow, roaring in unison:
"We will follow the King to the very end!"
The ground shook as they charged together.
"Charge! For the King! For Alabasta!"
"Smash that sandstorm!"
The previous divisions vanished like dust in the wind.
Rebels and soldiers ran side-by-side.
Not enemies. Countrymen.
"For Alabasta!"
"For King Cobra!"
Their footsteps, their weapons, their cries—all melded into a single unstoppable force.
The sandstorm loomed ahead.
It was madness, no doubt—but there was beauty in it.
The raw, foolish courage of humans challenging the wrath of nature.
Pell reached the sandstorm first, King Cobra still on his back.
"Charge!!!"
Without hesitation, they dove headfirst into the maelstrom.
"Charge…"
Their silhouettes vanished into the swirling sands.
The King's Army didn't falter. They dove into the storm, fearless.
Then the Rebel Army followed, shouting:
"To atone!"
"To follow our King!"
A sea of humanity surged into the sandstorm.
Far off, Marine Master Sergeant Tashigi, guarding Crocodile's unconscious body, stood frozen.
"They've gone mad…" she murmured.
Marines around her stared in stunned silence.
What kind of people would charge into a storm?
Then—something unbelievable happened.
The sandstorm… shuddered.
A deep tremor passed through it—like pain.
Then, before the Marines' stunned eyes, it retreated.
Yes.
The towering storm began to withdraw.
Not slowly—but hastily, like a beast suddenly afraid.
The once-raging cyclone collapsed upon itself.
The yellow sands scattered, and for the first time in what felt like forever… the wind stilled.
A raindrop fell.
Then another.
Then thousands.
The Rebel Army lifted their heads in disbelief as water soaked their faces.
"It's raining…"
They had not seen rain in years.
And now, it returned.
Tears flowed freely—tears of joy, relief, and cleansing.
"The rain… the rain is back!"
The people of Alabasta cheered and cried as the last traces of the storm faded.
The battlefield, once cloaked in dust, was now open beneath a weeping sky.
A figure descended slowly from the air.
King Cobra, battered and coated in sand, stood atop Pell's back. His voice was hoarse but proud:
"The storm has been defeated. The war… is over!"
Silence.
Then a deafening cheer erupted across Alubarna:
"Long live Alabasta!"
"Long live King Cobra!"
In the pouring rain, a kingdom cried—not in fear, but in celebration.
Their battle was over.
Their unity had saved them.