Chapter 51: Ancient Tales
For over a month, Crocodile had finally caught his breath.
Alvin Vergil's emergence had thrown many of his plans into disarray, necessitating a full reassessment. The Marines' movements. The Poneglyph clues in his possession.
But opportunities always came. Crocodile waited. And the contact came from Vergil.
Had he found something?
The primitive's goal was also the Poneglyph, so Crocodile was keenly interested.
He entered the study. And there was Vergil, drinking, wearing that serene, gentle smile.
Disgusting.
"Why'd you call me here?" Crocodile demanded.
"Want to hear a fairy tale?" Vergil smiled, lifting an ancient-looking book. "It's about 'music'… and 'a demon.'"
"…"
"A fairy tale?" Crocodile's brow furrowed slightly. He sat on the study's sofa, habitually placing an unlit cigar between his teeth—the study was non-smoking. Bathed in the afternoon sun, he exhaled slowly, feeling some tension ease.
"Go on. I'm listening." While he distrusted the reliability, he couldn't deny the element of fate that seemed to swirl around the primitive. What if there truly was a clue?
Once upon a time… The pages rustled.
Vergil took a sip of fruit wine and began narrating the ancient tale within.
...
In a distant, ancient era, at a certain point in history, a musician of immense talent was born.
His nation was torn by war, on the brink of collapse. Countless perished under invaders' blades; blood ran in torrents.
In his despair, the musician heard echoes from hell. He composed the final score of his life.
Its name: "Tot Musica."
The music played. A destructive, unknown creature descended upon the world, slaughtering indiscriminately. A terrible disaster engulfed the seas.
"…"
The tale continued—an epic of heroes sealing the "Great Demon" Tot Musica on an island named Elegia. Fanciful, yet thrilling.
...
After the summary, Crocodile pondered, then frowned. "This story… relates to the Poneglyph?"
"Not necessarily. But it likely relates to 'antiquity.'" Vergil waved the book. "A gift from Tiger. From Mary Geoise."
"Hm?!" Crocodile's interest sharpened instantly. He knew Vergil and Tiger corresponded. To avoid World Government tracking, they used Sea Beasts—a Fish-Man advantage.
"If it's from the 'Holy Land,' it warrants closer inspection." Crocodile took the book, examining it carefully. Soon, he found the thread.
"Heh heh heh… I see. It's a clue." A dark smile touched his lips. "—A clue to find someone."
"Find someone?" Vergil looked puzzled.
Crocodile nodded. "Fisher Tiger found this book while rescuing slaves, correct? He couldn't penetrate Mary Geoise's core. Most outer Celestial Dragons are illiterate. So, the book's owner was likely a high-ranking official."
"That group stays close to the Dragons. They'd avoid anything 'ancient'—a slip could cost their head. Therefore, the book likely has a 'purpose.'"
He flipped pages, pointing to ancient script. "From this, three points: The target is powerful enough for the World Government to pursue, elusive, and connected to ancient script."
He tapped a word: Elegia. In the entire tale, the only widely recognized location was the "Land of Music," Elegia, in the East Blue.
"Based on my intelligence," Crocodile murmured, smile widening, "only one person fits those three criteria and might be drifting in the East Blue."
"I thought finding 'her' would take years. This is… unexpectedly smooth."
"The last survivor of Ohara. The only person on these seas who can decipher Poneglyphs…"
"…"
"Follow me." Crocodile led Vergil from the study to his ground-floor room. With a wave, he lifted a floor panel, revealing a hidden cellar—a secret chamber built to conceal his activities. Now, with the secret nearing fruition, concealment was less critical.
"Heh heh heh… It must be her." Crocodile lit his cigar and the cellar's oil lamp. Dim light illuminated shelves of documents—intelligence Crocodile had gathered over years, all aimed at the [Ancient Weapon] Pluton.
And to achieve that, one person's power was indispensable.
"My pen… where's my pen?" Crocodile muttered, wanting to mark something.
"Fountain pen or quill?" Vergil offered helpfully.
"Pen."
"Second drawer on your right," Vergil supplied.
"Right." Crocodile opened the drawer, finding several usable pens. "She is formidable. Even the World Government can't catch her. I've been tracking her a long time…"
"…"
"…"
"…Wait."
Crocodile froze. A critical question surfaced.
How did Alvin Vergil know where the pen was?
This was his secret chamber.
His eyes widened, a vein throbbing at his temple as if he wished to tear Vergil apart on the spot.
Vergil scratched his head. "Uh…" He scratched again. "You know that?"
He spread his hands, sincere. "In my Chīguǐ form, I'm very sensitive to surrounding earth. I found this place weeks ago. Then I… tore through the ground from the garden side and came in for a look."
"…"
Logical. But infuriating.
"It doesn't matter!" Crocodile snapped, frowning deeply. "The point is, I didn't want the Alabastans finding it. The truly critical information is always kept here." He tapped his temple.
"About her—Nico Robin."
"…"
He stared at Vergil, as if awaiting a stunned reaction.
Seeing this, Vergil quickly began clapping, an admiring expression on his face. What could he say? From a book and vague hints, connecting the dots to Nico Robin… Truly Sir Crocodile. He couldn't help but feel like applauding.
Clap. Clap. Clap…
BAM!
Amidst the applause, several veins bulged on Crocodile's forehead. A Desert Spada shattered the cellar wall. In moments, the entire hidden chamber collapsed, burying all documents, erasing all traces.
Both men climbed out, dusting themselves off. Crocodile straightened his coat, draping it over his shoulders.
"Just cleaning up loose ends. Don't make a fuss."
He jerked his chin toward Vergil, a dark gleam in his eye. "You seek your Poneglyphs. I'll seek my archaeologist."
He waved a hand toward the distant sea.
"What are we waiting for?"
"We set sail."
(End of Chapter 51)
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