Chapter 9: Perfect Instinct
After their brief rest, the two continued onward.
As they walked, Crocodile pondered a question.
What was Alvin Vergil?
A person? That conclusion felt too hasty.
Before awakening, he'd been a sculpture on an ancient Poneglyph. The material matched that of the forbidden historical texts. The World Government's stance on Poneglyphs was clear: capital punishment for mere contact.
Take Ohara, the former archaeological holy land. For seeking to decipher the true history, a Buster Call had erased it.
Yet, the Poneglyphs scattered across the seas remained. Not because the Government didn't want them destroyed—they couldn't be destroyed.
Crocodile had studied one. The forging process was unique, the stone utterly impervious. Even his full power couldn't mar it.
Given that hardness, merely carving words was a monumental task. Why would anyone go further and sculpt a figure?
More questions piled up.
Vergil couldn't be an ordinary "person." Humans don't live that long.
But he also couldn't be just a "stone" that ate a Devil Fruit. Crocodile clearly remembered drawing a few drops of bright red blood from Vergil's side during their fight.
He was alive. And not human.
Combining those, Crocodile tentatively defined Alvin Vergil as an unknown "humanoid creature." The seas were vast. Such beings were rare, but not undocumented.
And now, having witnessed Vergil's recent actions, Crocodile grew more certain of his assessment.
Alvin Vergil had been angered by the slave trader's brutality. But unlike some hot-headed fool, he hadn't acted rashly.
He'd first secretly rescued the slaves. Then, he erupted from below, smashing the wagon and posing as an "out-of-control beast."
That drew all attention to him, away from the missing slaves.
Maintaining his beast form, he'd charged toward Crocodile, feigning an attack. The moment Crocodile raised a hand in defense, Vergil had released his transformation, sinking into the earth and leaving behind a shattered stone shell.
To any observer, it was Warlord Crocodile who'd neutralized the rampaging creature.
To Crocodile, the strategy was simple, almost childish.
But he also remembered: Alvin Vergil had been awake for less than a day.
In Crocodile's view, Vergil shouldn't understand the world's power structures, let alone fear the World Government. Yet, he'd instinctively known to lay low on the Red Line and devised a clean escape.
How?
"…"
Instinct.
Crocodile settled on that answer.
As a "humanoid creature," Alvin Vergil possessed a primal instinct for self-preservation.
He would follow his own whims—saving slaves, killing traders. But he would also instinctively avoid overwhelming danger, carving himself an exit.
Understanding this brought Crocodile a measure of relief. While Vergil's personality was still grating, at least he wasn't a reckless liability.
It was just that this creature's "evolutionary speed" was alarmingly fast…
The two successfully crossed the Red Line.
At the port on the Paradise side, Crocodile procured a small sloop. They set sail.
The boat didn't need to be good, nor supplies plentiful. In half a day's sailing, they would reach the "last stop" of Paradise's Grand Line:
Sabaody Archipelago.
A wondrous cluster of islands formed from the roots of giant trees. Special resin secreted vast bubbles, creating a unique bubble culture. A supremely prosperous commercial and tourist hub, under World Government jurisdiction but with its share of lawless zones.
"I have business here," Crocodile said on deck, eyeing the approaching islands as he lit a cigar.
He glanced back at Vergil. The man's eyes were wide, shining with unrestrained excitement. Crocodile felt a faint headache returning.
"Once I'm done, I'll take you to Alabasta. There are things I want you to see there."
Alabasta.
Vergil blinked at the familiar name. Of course he knew it.
A desert superpower in Paradise, deeply intertwined with both Poneglyphs and the Celestial Dragons.
If events followed their course, the [Sand Crocodile] would, as a Warlord, station himself there, pose as a hero by fighting pirates, and eventually seize control—all to access and decipher the Poneglyph within.
And indeed, that was Crocodile's plan.
His goal had always been singular: the Ancient Weapon Pluton. With it, he'd gain military power to dominate the seas.
His visit to Punk Hazard was a side venture based on a lead. The outcome—Vergil's emergence—was unexpected.
But since he was here, it was worth investigating. Crocodile couldn't read Poneglyphs himself. Bringing Vergil to Alabasta might yield clues.
If not… he'd have to track down Ohara's sole survivor.
"Alabasta…" Vergil murmured.
A desert kingdom. One of the few true powers on the Grand Line. He certainly wanted to see it.
But right now, his excitement was fixed on the Sabaody Archipelago ahead.
He turned to Crocodile, grinning. "Little Croc, mind lending me some berries?"
Little Croc.
A vein throbbed on Crocodile's temple. But given Vergil's terrifying growth rate, another fight would only put Crocodile at a disadvantage. Best to let it go.
He pulled out a wad of berry notes, about to toss them over.
THWIP!
A lead ball embedded itself in the deck between them.
Not far off, a pirate ship was bearing down, sails full. A crew fresh from conquering Paradise, brimming with arrogance, ready to make their mark in the New World.
To them, nothing could stand in their way—certainly not a puny sloop.
The pirate captain stood on the forecastle, pointing his cutlass at the two men, bellowing with laughter:
"AH HAHAHA! Today we enter the New World! We'll consecrate our flag with your blood, you unlucky sods!"
"…"
Vergil looked up at the large ship. A light ignited in his eyes.
He patted Crocodile's shoulder, excitement bubbling over. "Look, Little Croc! Live pirates! Alive!"
"Oh, alive…" Crocodile growled around his cigar. The unnamed fury he'd been suppressing finally found its outlet.
He finished his thought, voice dropping to a deadly chill. "Not for long."
Sand began to swirl.
But before the first grain could touch the pirate captain's blade, a dark-red, massive hand shot out and clamped around the cutlass.
The pirate captain looked up. A hulking shadow had leaped aboard. A pair of crimson eyes glared down…
(End of Chapter)
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