The silence that followed the collapse of Rain Dinners was heavy, but it was a comfortable silence—the kind that follows a decisive victory. The dust was beginning to settle, coating the ruins of the basement room in a fine layer of pulverized stone and sand.
Ben walked calmly through the debris, stepping over shattered pillars and cracks in the foundation. He stopped in front of the unconscious form of Sir Crocodile. The former Warlord lay in a heap, his expensive suit tattered, his golden hook snapped in half, and his face bruised and swollen. He looked less like a desert god and more like a man who had been introduced to the wrong end of a freight train.
"Well fought, Croc-boy," Ben murmured, looking down at the fallen villain. "But you picked the wrong generation to mess with."
Ben turned his attention to the pile of ropes that used to be the Sea Stone cage. He needed to secure the prisoner, and standard rope wouldn't hold a Logia once he woke up, regardless of how beaten he was.
Ben waved his wand.
"Revertis."
The hempen ropes shimmered. The molecular structure tightened, densified, and hardened. The soft fibers turned back into cold, dark grey Sea Prism Stone. But instead of reforming into a cage, Ben manipulated the shape with a flick of his wrist. The metal flowed like liquid mercury for a split second before snapping solid into the shape of heavy, unbreakable handcuffs.
Ben clamped them onto Crocodile's wrists.
Click.
The connection was absolute. With the Sea Stone touching his skin, Crocodile's ability to turn into sand was completely nullified. He was now just a regular, unconscious human.
"Now for transport," Ben said, reaching into the deep pockets of his trench coat.
He pulled out a small, matchbox-sized suitcase. It looked like a toy.
He placed it on a flat piece of rubble and tapped it with his wand.
"Engorgio."
The suitcase expanded rapidly, growing until it was a large, vintage leather trunk with brass fittings. Ben clicked the latches open and lifted the lid. Inside, instead of clothes or travel gear, there was a ladder leading down into a dark, expansive space that defied the laws of physics.
"In you go," Ben said.
He pointed his wand at Crocodile.
The Warlord's body floated into the air, drifted over the suitcase, and was gently lowered into the magical depths.
"Collection time," Ben sighed, cracking his neck.
He walked around the battlefield like a janitor cleaning up after a rowdy party.
He found Mr. 1 outside, bleeding and unconscious. Handcuff. Float. Suitcase.
He found Mr. 4 embedded in a wall. Float. Suitcase.
He found Miss Doublefinger and Miss Merry Christmas. Float. Suitcase.
He even scooped up Bon Clay, who was still muttering about swans in his sleep.
Once the entire officer corps of Baroque Works was safely stored in the magical trunk, Ben slammed the lid shut and shrank it back down to the size of a matchbox. He slipped it back into his pocket.
"Prison transport complete. Impel Down has nothing on me."
Ben turned back to the crew.
They were gathered near the center of the ruins. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the aches and pains of the brawl.
"So," Ben announced, his voice carrying over the wind. "The landlord is evicted. The guards are packed away. We are currently standing in the center of the richest casino in the Grand Line."
He paused for effect.
"Shall we loot the place?"
The reaction was instantaneous.
"LOOT?!"
Nami, who had been checking her Tempest Tact for scratches, whipped her head around so fast her neck cracked. Her eyes, usually a lovely shade of brown, had literally transformed into sparkling Belli symbols ($). Her tongue lolled out slightly. She looked like a wolf that had just spotted a particularly fat sheep.
"Did you say loot?!" Nami shrieked, sprinting over to Ben and grabbing his lapels. "Ben! You genius! You magnificent wizard! Of course! We defeated the owner! By pirate law, everything here belongs to us!"
"I suppose it does," Ben chuckled.
She looked at Ben with puppy-dog eyes. "Ben... do you have... the thing?"
"The thing?"
"You know!" Nami made a gesture of a bag. "The magic bag! Like your suitcase but for money! Please tell me you have one!"
Ben smiled. He reached into his coat and pulled out a simple-looking velvet pouch with a drawstring. It looked small enough to hold maybe a handful of coins.
"Undetectable Extension Charm," Ben explained, tossing it to her. "It's not infinite, but it can hold the contents of a vault without gaining any weight."
Nami caught the pouch as if it were a holy relic. She pressed it to her cheek. "I love magic. I love magic so much."
She spun around, her demeanor shifting instantly from 'adoring fan' to 'ruthless commander.'
"Alright, listen up!" Nami barked, pointing a finger at Usopp and Sanji. "You two are with me! We are going to the treasury. If I see a single gold coin left on the floor, I'm increasing your debt interest rates by thirty percent!"
"Yes, Nami-swan!" Sanji swooned, hearts in his eyes. "I will carry every gold bar with love!"
"Why do I have to go?" Usopp complained, his legs shaking. "I just punched a four-ton man! My arms are tired! I have 'Can't-Carry-Heavy-Gold-itis'!"
"Cure it," Nami hissed, dragging Usopp by his long nose. "We're rich, Usopp! Rich!"
As the trio vanished into the depths of the casino to hunt for the vault, Ben turned his attention to his Captain.
Luffy was sitting on the ground, slumped against a piece of broken wall. The fight had taken everything out of him. Even with the water pills, the physical toll of using Haki and fighting a Warlord was immense. His stomach gave a low, mournful growl that sounded like a dying whale.
"Meat..." Luffy whispered, his eyes unfocused. "Need... meat..."
Ben smiled warmly. This was the routine. Fight, win, eat, sleep.
He reached into his pocket—the same pocket that held a prison for super-villains—and pulled out a stack of three large, wooden bento boxes.
He set them down in front of Luffy.
"Sanji prepared these this morning," Ben said. "I put a Stasis Charm and a Warming Charm on them. They should be just as hot as when they left the skillet."
The smell wafted out of the boxes. The aroma of grilled pork, spicy sea-king sausages, and sticky rice hit Luffy's nose.
The effect was magical in itself.
Luffy's eyes snapped open. The drool started instantly.
"MEAAAAAAAT!"
He didn't use chopsticks. He didn't use hands. He practically unhinged his jaw. Luffy dove into the bento boxes like a feral animal, devouring the food at a speed that blurred the vision.
" Munch munch gulp! BEN YOU'RE THE BEST! Munch munch! SO GOOD! Gulp! "
"Slow down, Captain," Ben laughed, sitting down on a piece of rubble next to him. "Nobody's going to steal it."
Ben looked around. "Hey, Zoro. You want some—"
Ben stopped.
He looked to his left. He looked to his right. He looked behind the pile of rubble.
"Zoro?"
The spot where the swordsman had been standing just moments ago—cleaning his sword and looking bored—was empty.
There was no trace of him. No footprints leading away. No note. Just a Zoro-shaped void in the universe.
Ben sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Every time. I take my eyes off him for ten seconds, and he vanishes into the shadow realm. How does he do it in a one-room ruin?"
Ben shook his head. "Well, he's probably fine. He's Zoro."
---
Deep in the bowels of the Rain Dinners casino, behind a massive steel door that Sanji had kicked off its hinges, lay the hoard of Sir Crocodile.
It was staggering.
Piles of gold bars stacked like firewood. Chests overflowing with pearls and diamonds. Stacks of cash—Belli notes bound in rubber bands—reaching the ceiling. Artifacts stolen from Alabasta's tombs.
The room glittered so brightly it hurt to look at.
"KYAAAAAA!"
Nami let out a scream of pure ecstasy. She dove into a pile of gold coins, swimming in them like Scrooge McDuck.
"It's beautiful! It's glorious! It's mine! All mine!"
She began shoveling handfuls of jewels into Ben's magical pouch.
"Look at this, Sanji! Look at this ruby! It's the size of my fist!"
"You shine brighter than any ruby, Nami-san!" Sanji complimented, carefully stacking gold bars into a neat pile for her.
Usopp stood by the door, his jaw on the floor. He picked up a golden chalice encrusted with emeralds.
"This... this is insane," Usopp whispered. "Crocodile really was stripping this country dry. There must be billions here."
He looked at Nami, who was currently hugging a golden statue of a cat.
Usopp scratched his head. A thought—a dangerous, moral thought—crept into his mind.
"Hey, Nami?" Usopp asked tentatively.
"What is it?" Nami asked, not looking up, busy stuffing a diamond necklace into the pouch. "Keep packing! The bag isn't even half full!"
"Well," Usopp started, sweating slightly. "I was thinking. You know how Vivi is fighting to save her country? And how are the people starving here? And how the drought ruined their economy?"
Nami paused. She slowly lowered the golden cat. She turned to face Usopp. Her expression was unreadable.
"Go on."
"Maybe..." Usopp gulped. "Maybe we should leave some of this? Or give it to Vivi? You know, to help stabilize the kingdom? A stimulus package! It would really help them rebuild after the war."
Silence descended on the treasury. The only sound was the clinking of a coin dropping from Sanji's hand.
Sanji stepped back, shaking his head at Usopp. Don't do it, Long-nose. You're walking into the dragon's den.
Nami stared at Usopp. Her eyes were shadowed. A dark aura began to emanate from her body.
"Give... it... to... Vivi?" Nami repeated slowly.
"J-Just some of it!" Usopp backpedaled, holding up his hands. "Like... half? It is their money, technically! Stolen from them!"
Nami closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She seemed to be having a violent internal debate. Her love for her friend Vivi was wrestling with her primal, genetic need to hoard wealth.
It was the immovable object meeting the unstoppable force.
Finally, Nami opened her eyes. She looked pained. She looked like she was passing a kidney stone.
"Fine," Nami gritted out. "You're right. Vivi needs help."
Usopp sighed in relief. "Oh, good! I knew you had a heart—"
"I'll give her five percent," Nami stated firmly.
"FIVE PERCENT?!" Usopp shouted. "That's it?! That's a tip! That's not a stimulus package, that's a coupon! This is millions of Belli!"
"Five percent is generous!" Nami snapped, clutching the pouch protectively. "We did the work! We beat the Warlord! This is the pirate fee! mercenaries charge way more! Five percent is the 'Friends and Family' discount!"
"You're a demon," Usopp deadpanned. "A literal demon."
He turned away, picking up another stack of coins. Under his breath, barely a whisper, he muttered:
"Stingy... money-grubbing... Belli-sucking witch..."
The air in the room froze.
The temperature dropped ten degrees.
Usopp froze. He felt a presence behind him. A terrifying, predatory presence.
He slowly turned around.
Nami was standing right there. She hadn't been there a second ago.
Her enhanced physique—courtesy of Ben's serum—gave her speed and senses far beyond a normal human. And her hearing? It picked up everything.
Nami was smiling. But it wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of a shark that had just smelled blood.
"What... was... that... Usopp?" she whispered sweetly.
"I... uh..." Usopp trembled. "I said... you're a... Belli... plucking... rich... person?"
WHACK.
Nami's fist, hardened by anger (and serum), descended on Usopp's head with the force of a meteor.
A massive, cartoonish bump erupted instantly on Usopp's skull, steam rising from it.
"OWWWWWWW!" Usopp crumpled to the floor, holding his head.
Nami stood over him, blowing on her fist.
"Because of that little comment," Nami said coldly, "your share of the treasure is reduced by fifty percent."
"Fifty percent?!" Usopp cried through his tears. "I didn't even get a share yet! Wait, fifty percent of zero is still zero!"
"Then you owe me money," Nami declared, turning back to the gold. "Keep packing."
"She's a tyrant," Usopp wept into the stone floor.
Sanji, who had watched the whole exchange with a dreamy expression, sighed.
"Nami-swan looks so cute when she asserts dominance," Sanji swooned, swaying back and forth. "Her fiscal responsibility is so sexy!"
"You're both crazy!" Usopp yelled.
---
Meanwhile.
The Great Sandy Desert of Alabasta.
Night had fallen completely. In the desert, devoid of the sun's heat, the temperature plummeted rapidly. The scorching sands of the day turned into a freezing landscape of ice-cold dunes and biting wind.
In the middle of nowhere, miles away from Rainbase, miles away from civilization, a lone figure walked.
Roronoa Zoro shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. His teeth chattered loudly.
"D-D-Damn... it's c-c-cold..."
He stopped and looked around.
To his left: Sand.
To his right: Sand.
Behind him: Sand.
In front of him: More sand.
"Weird," Zoro muttered, squinting into the darkness. "I swear the lobby was right here. I just walked down the hallway, turned right at the cactus, and walked through the door."
He looked back at his footprints. They didn't move in a straight line. They moved in circles, loops, and zigzags, as if he had been drunk (which he wasn't... yet).
"Where did the casino go?" Zoro grumbled, kicking a rock. "stupid building. It must have moved. Buildings in the Grand Line are tricky like that."
He adjusted his swords on his hip.
"Ben said something about a bomb in Alubarna. Maybe I'm already there?"
He looked at a scorpion skittering across the sand.
"Hey, you. Is this the capital?"
The scorpion hissed and ran away.
"Rude," Zoro scoffed.
He picked a direction completely at random—South, though he thought it was North—and started walking again.
"I'll just keep walking straight. I'm bound to hit a liquor store eventually."
The wind howled, blowing sand into his face.
"Hey, Luffy! Sanji! Ussop!" Zoro shouted into the void. "Quit hiding! It's not funny!"
No one answered—just the empty, freezing silence of the desert night.
Zoro sighed. "I can't believe they got lost. Hopeless. The whole crew is hopeless without me to guide them. If this goes on, I will be the one to lead the crew to One Piece."
He trudged on, walking deeper into the wasteland, confident that he was going the right way, while in reality, he was heading toward a cliff edge twenty miles in the wrong direction.
"At least it can't get any worse," Zoro muttered.
A giant desert lizard, the size of a bus, rose up from the sand behind him, drooling.
Zoro didn't even turn around. He just sensed it.
Shing.
A flash of steel in the moonlight.
The lizard fell in two pieces.
Zoro sheathed Wado Ichimonji.
"Not edible," he critiqued. "I want booze."
He continued his lonely trek, the Future King of Hell lost in a sandbox, waiting for his crew to inevitably come find him and apologize for leaving him behind.