Chapter 5: Simplicity and Purity
The last flickers of dragon-fire still licked at the grass.
But the dragon that had breathed that fire was dead, its skull crushed, its body a cooling heap.
Caesar stood frozen, replaying Vergil's transformation in his mind. The red skin, the dense muscle, the sharp fangs, the dark-green horns, the pupils glowing with eerie crimson light.
He liked to wear decorative "devil horns" too, but compared to Vergil's true form, his own affectations seemed laughably cheap.
The Vergil he'd just witnessed… that seemed like the real thing from legend.
"A… demon?" Caesar murmured.
He didn't know Vergil's past. He didn't know how Vergil's likeness had been carved. The sculptor's skill was so transcendent, it was as if a living being had been sealed into the stone.
Sealed.
That misaligned piece of intelligence triggered a sudden, terrifying hypothesis in Caesar's mind. With no one else to share it, he turned his gaseous form toward Crocodile.
"Shurorororo…" Caesar's laugh was strained. "Hey, Sand Crocodile… There must have been a reason the ancients sealed 'Vergil' inside that Poneglyph, don't you think?"
Think about it!
But Crocodile was more interested in the present.
Unlike Caesar's dawning dread, Crocodile simply took a slow drag from his cigar and smirked. "Oh?"
"Wh-What?!"
A chill shot down Caesar's spine. He instinctively dissolved fully into gas.
In the next instant, a scimitar of hardened sand erupted from the ground, slicing through the space his body had occupied.
"Sand Crocodile, I'm talking to you!" Caesar's voice hissed from the reformed cloud. "That 'humanoid' calling himself Vergil might be as dangerous as an Ancient Weapon! I cannot bear the responsibility for releasing him!"
"Reasonable. But irrelevant to me."
Crocodile's brow was arched, his plan already settled. His brief observation had revealed key traits.
On the surface, Vergil was dangerously inexperienced, his movements unpolished and clumsy.
But as a Mythical Zoan user, his margin for error in battle was enormous. More importantly, his capacity for learning was alarming. He'd learned to walk, to flee, and during the fight, he'd instinctively created a weapon from earth. His potential was terrifying.
And crucially, Vergil seemed… simple. A useful piece, if guided properly.
Having forced Caesar back with his feint, Crocodile waved to Vergil. "Hey! With me!"
"Right!"
Vergil laughed, the thrill of the fight still on him, and followed the swirling sand.
The two soon reached the southwest coast where Crocodile's ship lay at anchor—a medium-sized sloop.
Vergil dug his toes into the sand, savoring the grainy texture. He glanced back at the island, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "No more pursuers?"
"Caesar lacks the spine," Crocodile said dismissively, boarding the vessel. "His research is highly illegal. He won't escalate this. At most, he'll blame the dragon's death on me."
"I see." Vergil nodded, giving Crocodile an appraising look before following him aboard.
The ship had no crew, but for a Logia user, solo operation was trivial. With a thought, tendrils of sand untied the sails and worked the rigging, pushing the ship smoothly away from Punk Hazard's shore.
Soon, the island vanished astern. To shake any potential pursuit, Crocodile altered course several times before finally slowing.
He fetched a spare long coat from below deck and tossed it to Vergil on the foredeck. Seeing the man finally clothed eased a subtle tension. Crocodile leaned back against the mainmast.
Now, to secure this asset.
He watched Vergil, who was leaning over the rail, utterly absorbed by the vast, blue expanse.
Crocodile's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He sighed, a calculated sound. "Are you curious?"
Vergil turned. "About what?"
"About this sea. This world."
At that, Vergil's smile widened. He looked at Crocodile with deepening interest. "Of course."
"Hehehehe… Good." Crocodile puffed his cigar, a faint, confident smile on his lips. "In that case, follow me."
"As one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, I can show you everything this world has to offer!"
"The Shichibukai are outlaws granted legal status by the World Government due to our power. Several seats remain vacant even now."
Crocodile clenched his fist, his voice a low, compelling rumble. "Adventure? Treasure? Status? Women?"
"Stay with me, and you can experience it all."
"What do you say?"
"…"
He watched Vergil's reaction closely.
It was unexpected.
The man who had seemed so "innocent" before showed no excitement, no fervent curiosity at the promises. He simply fastened the coat, walked barefoot across the deck, and stopped at the ship's prow.
His voice, when he spoke, was calm and clear.
"Sand Crocodile. Sir Crocodile."
Vergil looked back over his shoulder, the setting sun framing him in silhouette.
He smiled softly. "I spent a very, very long time as stone. As a slab. As a sculpture."
"It was too long. I've seen too much…"
"So for me, the things you speak of are not my primary desires. They are merely… accessories."
"My only interest. My only desire… is one thing."
Backlit by the dying sun, Vergil stood tall.
"Freedom."
Two simple words.
Alvin Vergil's sole, consuming desire.
The things Crocodile offered were glittering, but they could not satisfy that singular need.
"…"
"Hah… Freedom…" Crocodile murmured.
He realized, abruptly, that he had miscalculated from the start.
This creature named Vergil was not "simple" at all.
"Simple" described those inexperienced in the world—fledglings.
Those who gained experience became "complicated"—the majority on these seas.
But if a "complicated" person went a step further—if they weathered immense experience and still held fast to their core…
That person could be called "pure."
There was no doubt. Alvin Vergil was not merely pure. He was truly pure.
Such people were the most troublesome. Unswayed by honeyed words. They walked their own path, inscrutable to others, marching steadfastly toward their own horizon.
Such a being could never be Crocodile's pawn.
"I see… I understand…"
Crocodile chuckled darkly. He lifted his gaze to Vergil's silhouette and scrapped his original plan.
In the next heartbeat—
Whoosh!
Crocodile dissolved into a sandstorm, blitzing across the deck toward Vergil!
He rematerialized inches away, his voice a grim whisper. "Well then… shall I beat you into submission… or turn you back into a rock?"
Sand coalesced into a razor-edged scimitar. Crocodile twisted his body, the blade thrusting for Vergil's throat.
Swish!
Vergil's fists clenched. The muscles on his forearms corded. He didn't dodge; he swung, smashing a fist directly into the sand-blade.
THUD!
The hardened sand shattered into a cloud of grit.
Through the swirling particles, their eyes met.
Vergil grinned, exhilarated. "Confirmed! The Mythical Zoan does enhance defensive capability!"
"Ha… Hah…"
Hearing that, realizing he'd just been used as a test subject, Crocodile's rage ignited.
His face darkened instantly. His teeth ground together, the words spitting out cold and sharp:
"You… primitive!"
A fight breaks out, and his first insult is 'primitive'!
(End of Chapter)
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