Royal Mausoleum, beneath Alubarna Palace
The sound of quiet footsteps echoed through the ancient corridors, disturbing dust that hadn't been touched in decades. Flickering torchlight cast long shadows over intricate stone murals of forgotten Alabasta's kings and wars. The carvings showed people praying beneath a strange symbol of a great sun.
King Cobra limped forward, bound but upright. Despite the pain, he kept his back straight — a king to the end. Nico Robin walked ahead, her expression unreadable, eyes scanning the glyphs and carvings with calm precision.
"This place," Cobra muttered, his voice echoing, "was built to protect the legacy of Alabasta… not bury it."
Robin glanced over her shoulder but didn't stop. "Legacy is just another word for forgotten pride," she said flatly.
They descended deeper until they reached a vast chamber — circular, with towering walls lined with ancient writing. In its center stood the Poneglyph — black, towering, eternal.
Robin approached it slowly, reverently.
"So the rumors were true..." Cobra whispered. "You can read them."
Robin didn't reply, instead ran her fingers across the ancient letters.
The king's tone turned cold. "And you work for Crocodile. A man who would erase this country's future… for what? A weapon?"
Robin's eyes didn't move from the stone. "I work for myself. Don't confuse convenience with loyalty."
Cobra exhaled slowly. "Then what do you seek in these ruins?"
There was a pause — then she said, "You don't need to know."
Cobra frowned, a little irritated, but nothing showed on his face. He decided to sit down in frustration.
Robin on the other hand began reading the Poneglyph aloud, her voice steady and cold. "In this era… the kingdom stood tall beneath the heavens. The rain ceased, and chaos rose. The record is carved here…"
She stopped, eyes narrowing.
Cobra caught it. "Did it mention any long lost weapon?" he asked.
Robin remained silent for a long moment… then looked back at him and lied, "No. Just a record of Alabasta's history."
Cobra's gaze sharpened — he saw the subtle shift in her expression. A lie. He said nothing.
"You're hiding the truth," he murmured.
"So are you," she replied.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I suppose we both serve something larger than ourselves."
Robin stood, brushing dust from her hands. "I won't tell Crocodile what this stone really says. You should be grateful."
He tilted his head. "Why not?"
Her eyes met his. "Because I don't want the world to end. Besides, the marine already arrested him."
Robin turned to leave. As she passed Cobra, she hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of softness, she said, "You're a better king than most. That's why your people still fight for you."
Cobra closed his eyes briefly, as if the words carried more weight than he expected. "It's too late," he murmured.
Robin stared at him. "What do you mean, too late?"
Then—
Grnnkkk!
A deep grinding noise echoed through the chamber. Stone groaned and ancient mechanisms locked into place. The entrance behind them slammed shut with a deafening boom.
Dust rained from the ceiling. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Robin spun around sharply. "What did you do?"
"This mausoleum was built to protect what lies here," Cobra said calmly. "A lever acts as a key to activate the mechanism, and that lever is the one on my back."
He added, "Once the truth is read… it seals itself. Within a few hours, this place will be buried under tons of stone."
Robin's expression finally shifted — alarm flashing in her eyes.
"You planned to die here?"
Cobra met her gaze. "If that's the cost of keeping this truth hidden… then yes."
Robin stared at him, the weight of history and choice hanging in the silence.
Finally, she exhaled slowly, almost bitterly. "So… this is how it ends?"
Cobra, seated calmly with his back straight despite the rumbling around them, asked, "Do you regret coming here?"
Robin didn't answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the Poneglyph, the ancient language glowing faintly in her memory.
"…Maybe," she said at last, voice low. "But not for the reason you think."
The walls shuddered again — louder this time. Fine cracks webbed across the ceiling. The sound of grinding stone echoed like distant thunder.
Dust sifted down in clouds.
The collapse had begun.
...
Outside Alubarna's Gates — Midday
The sun blazed overhead, baking the sand into glassy heat and turning every suit of armor into a furnace. Sweat rolled down necks and backs, soaking tunics beneath breastplates. The wind carried dust and tension in equal measure.
The Royal Army stood in disciplined formation—shields locked, spears angled forward like a wall of thorns. Opposite them, the Rebel Army gathered, less uniform but equally resolute. Footsteps stirred clouds of sand, marching like an oncoming storm.
At the head of the rebels, Koza raised a hand. His voice cut through the desert air, raw with urgency. "We don't want bloodshed! Lay down your weapons! We demand justice—not war!"
On the other side, Chaka, the jackal-headed guardian of the palace, stepped forward. His sword remained sheathed, though his stance was firm. Dust swirled around his cloak as he faced the rebel leader. "Koza. You were once one of us. Don't let grief and lies turn you into an enemy of the people."
Koza's jaw clenched. His eyes, shadowed by sun and sorrow, held defiance. "And you were once a protector of the people. Tell me—how many villages burned before you spoke up?"
Chaka's brow furrowed. "The king would never—"
Koza cut him mid sentence, "Then who gave the orders?! Why have you all stayed silent?!"
Silence rippled across both armies. Spears trembled in uncertain hands. A hawk screamed overhead, circling.
Chaka exhaled, his voice quiet but firm. "You're being used, Koza."
Koza's eyes narrowed, his reply sharp as a blade. "So are you."
They stood in silence—two sons of Alabasta, once allies, now commanders of armies poised to destroy each other. The desert wind held its breath.
Then—
Bang!
A single gunshot tore through the air like thunder. A royal soldier cried out and dropped to his knees, blood blooming across his uniform.
Gasps echoed. Fingers tightened around hilts. Shields braced. Eyes went wide.
A frozen moment.
"They've opened fire!" someone shouted from the royal side, panic overtaking reason.
Koza's voice broke through, "No—WAIT! That wasn't us—!"
But it was too late.
Bang!
Another shot rang out—this time from within the royal ranks. A rebel fighter cried out and fell backward into the sand, writhing.
Chaka's hand shot up. "Hold! Everyone—!"
But chaos drowned him.
The tension snapped like a whip. Screams erupted. The royal army and rebel forces surged toward each other, a violent tide of steel, dust, and shouting. Shields slammed into spears, swords rang against blades, and the cries of the wounded quickly rose with the storm.
Koza tried to push through the chaos. "Stop! STOP! This is wrong!"
But his voice was swallowed by the frenzy.
Chaka fought defensively, yelling at his men. "Hold your lines! Don't be deceived—this isn't their doing!"
But reason was already lost. The Baroque Works agents, hidden among both sides, smiled as the plan unfolded perfectly. Brother fought brother. Friend against friend. Alabasta burned with its own fury.
And then—
A distant cry pierced the battlefield.
"Above us!" a soldier shouted, pointing skyward.
All heads turned as a massive falcon descended from the sky, sunlight glinting off his feathers. On his back rode a familiar figure—Princess Vivi, hair whipping wildly in the wind, her voice carrying with impossible clarity.
"STOP!! Everyone, please—STOP THIS NOW!"
Pell dove low over the battlefield, sand swirling in his wake. The shock of the sudden descent forced both armies to stagger back. Even the fighting ceased momentarily.
Vivi leapt from Pell's back, landing between the two armies, arms outstretched, eyes fierce. "This war is built on a lie! You are not enemies!"
The soldiers stared, panting, bleeding, confused.
Koza blinked, his heart stopping when he saw the familiar figure descending between them. "Vivi?! What are you doing here? I told you to stay away!"
Across the field, Chaka lowered his blade, stunned. "Princess Vivi…"
Vivi stood in the middle, dusty winds whipping around her as she raised her voice, trembling but determined.
"The drought, the rebellion, the attacks — all of it was orchestrated by one man. Crocodile! He's the true enemy of Alabasta!"
Gasps rippled through the ranks. Soldiers on both sides exchanged glances. Doubt flickered in their eyes.
Hidden among the rebels and royal army, Baroque Works agents stiffened. This wasn't part of the plan.
"She's lying!" one of them shouted. "She's with the royal army, trying to trick us into lowering our weapons!"
Murmurs began spreading like wildfire. Weapons were gripped tighter. Some raised their guns again.
Koza stepped forward, shouting, "No! Wait—!"
A gunshot cut through the air.
Vivi cried out as the bullet struck her shoulder. Her body crumpled mid-step.
"Princess!" Pell cried, swooping down just in time to catch her.
More shots rang out, forcing Pell to weave midair, shielding her with his wings as he dodged a second volley. He then soared high, taking the princess away from that place.
"She's been shot!" a royal soldier shouted.
"Those bastards—!"
Gunfire erupted from the royal lines. Rebels took it as an attack. And in seconds, the battlefield descended into total war.
Steel clashed. Sand exploded with movement. Screams rang out as the armies collided again, blood and dust mixing under the burning sun.
Koza stood frozen in the middle of the chaos, the roar of war drowning out his desperate cries. Sand and smoke swirled around him as men who once drank from the same wells now clashed with steel and fury.
"This… wasn't supposed to happen like this," he whispered, his voice lost in the madness.
Across the field, Chaka tried to command order, his voice hoarse from shouting.
"Stand down! Stop this madness!" But no one heard him — not above the battle cries and thunder of gunfire. With a grimace, he raised his blade once more, not to kill, but to defend and survive.
Meanwhile, further back, the agents of Baroque Works began to melt away from the fray, slipping through the confusion like shadows in smoke. One of them chuckled, casting a glance at the blood-soaked battlefield.
"Let them kill each other," he muttered to the others. "Rebels, royal guards… all fools. So easy to manipulate."
"Who's going to kill who?" a calm voice cut in.
The agent stiffened. The voice hadn't come from one of his comrades. Slowly, he turned. Then, he saw them.
Standing before him were the Group 1 Orcas.
Stev tilted his head. "So he is one of the agents?"
Marianne nodded rapidly, like a startled bird.
"They've been stirring up this whole war," Binko muttered, eyes narrowing. "Cowards, hiding in plain sight."
"Zino said we don't spare scum like this," Hibari added coldly.
Creed cracked his knuckles, muscles flexing. "I could use a warm-up."
Gin's eyes sharpened. "No mercy, then."
He lunged before the agent could react. Panicked, the man fumbled for his pistol, trying to take aim — too slow.
Gin ducked low, closing the distance in an instant, moving like a shadow on sand.
"Shigan!" he growled.
His finger drove straight into the man's chest with pinpoint force. A sickening thud followed — then silence.
The agent dropped like a puppet with its strings severed, eyes wide in stunned pain before hitting the sand with a dull *thud*.
One of the remaining Baroque agents stumbled back, panic overtaking him. "W-We've been compromised—!"
Creed took a slow, deliberate step forward, shadows stretching behind him under the desert sun. "Run if you want. It won't help."
The Orcas moved in unison — silent, sharp, and deadly. The sand itself seemed to shift beneath them as they closed the distance, bringing righteous fury to the chaos sown by lies.
Across the battlefield, near the rear of the royal army's lines, a similar confrontation brewed.
Several Baroque agents, still disguised among the soldiers, began slipping away amidst the battlefield's chaos. They kept their heads low, moving quietly through the confusion, hoping the war cries and gunfire would cover their retreat.
But waiting for them — was *Orca Group 2.*
At the front stood Nojiko. Her transformation had completed — her body now that of a sleek black panther. Yellow eyes gleamed beneath the sun as she growled low, her powerful frame tense, ready to strike. Every movement radiated lethal grace.
Next to her, Mikita was twirling her parasol. For some reason, she was eager to beat these Baroque agents. As a former numbered agent, she looked down on these non-numbered agents.
A few meters behind, Usopp already had his slingshot drawn, a custom round fitted and aimed. His sharp gaze locked on the agents' every step.
Beside him, Nami gripped her Clima-Tact, the weapon crackling faintly with stored energy, her stance ready and confident. Kaya stood further back, calm and composed, her medical bag open and ready — her focus locked on the fallen Vivi.
Suddenly, footsteps approached from behind.
Sanji stepped into view, adjusting his tie with one hand while his eyes locked onto the agents. He exhaled smoke from the side of his mouth and cracked his neck with a faint smirk. "Sorry I'm late," he muttered, dropping into his fighting stance. "Looks like I missed the party."
Thup!
A gust of sand billowed up as Pell landed hard beside them, folding his wings. He gently set Vivi down, surprised to see the rest of the Orca crew already braced for battle.
Sanji gave him a nod. "These guys trying to slip away? Yeah… they're Baroque agents."
Pell's eyes sharpened. His hand hovered near his blade. "Then they've seen too much."
Without another word, Kaya rushed to Vivi's side, carefully checking the wound on her shoulder. "You'll be fine," she said gently, applying quick treatment. "Just rest."
Meanwhile, the disguised agents realized too late that they had walked straight into a trap. Their confident escape had crumbled.
The hunters had already surrounded them — and now, there was nowhere left to run.