Suddenly, Crocodile halted in his tracks, his gaze fixated on a peculiar sight ahead.
Before him stood a drunken man, adorned in a clown hat, his face flushed and his nose resembling a sausage. Six golden rings adorned his towering frame, as he carried a hefty wine barrel in his arms, clutching a wine gourd in one hand.
Stumbling towards Crocodile, the man gulped down a mouthful of wine, followed by a satisfied belch. Oblivious to Crocodile's presence, he continued on his collision course.
"Hey! Can't you see? Vasco Shot!"
Crocodile remained steadfast, gazing down at his approaching enemy.
Without hesitation, a quicksand pit materialized beneath Vasco Shot's feet, swallowing him up to his knees in an instant.
Crocodile wasn't one to yield to others!
"Huh?!" Startled by the unexpected turn, Shot's drowsy eyes snapped open, as armament Haki surged around his legs.
With a swift motion, a jet-black foot emerged from the sand, followed closely by the other.
Shot seemed unfazed, stepping out of the quicksand pit as if it were merely a small puddle of mud.
"Crocodile?" Shot muttered, as if just noticing his presence, then took another swig of wine.
Crocodile's irritation bubbled up, evident in the veins pulsating on his forehead.
This guy...
"Why are you here?" Crocodile questioned sharply, recalling their encounter on the sixth floor of Impel Down. They were, after all, former inmates, their histories intertwined.
"I heard there's some Pirate Festival happening around here. Figured there'd be plenty of good wine," Shot replied, a hint of seriousness in his tone.
Crocodile's strength was undeniable, or else Shot wouldn't have bothered acknowledging him.
"And what about you? The former Shichibukai who dared to challenge Whitebeard again?" Choate's drunken demeanor shifted, his tone becoming flat but piercing.
Each word struck a nerve with Crocodile.
"You insolent..." Crocodile started, interrupted by a fit of coughing.
Before Crocodile could make a move, a voice echoed from the golden tower at the island's center.
All eyes on the island instinctively turned upward, searching for the source of the sound.
From the tower emerged a portly man in a pink tuxedo, wielding a microphone. His left hand had been replaced by a mechanical device, and a wooden stick supported his right leg.
Clearly, this was a disabled pirate.
"Did you all enjoy the Pirate Festival, you scallywags?!" he bellowed into the microphone, revealing his crooked teeth.
"Woooo~!" The response came in enthusiastic shouts from the gathered pirates, arms waving in the air, representing a diverse array of skin tones and sizes.
"I reckon you lot understand that there ain't no rules 'cept one when it comes to scuffles and plunderin' at the Pirate Festival!" Donald Moderate exclaimed, his voice booming through the air.
"We must keep this bash a secret from the blasted Marines! Anyone caught snitchin' will find themselves chased to the depths of hell by every pirate here!"
The pirates feigned fear, though their grins betrayed their amusement. Such threats were commonplace among these lawless rogues.
"But enough of the doom and gloom!" Donald continued cheerfully, shifting his weight onto his wooden stick. "Y'all can call me Donald Moderate, the master of ceremonies! And now-"
Turning gracefully without any hint of stumbling, Moderate displayed remarkable balance.
"And now, our esteemed guest!" he announced, gesturing towards the entrance.
A young girl in a green and white dress with vibrant green hair stepped forward.
"Presenting our very own child star vocalist, Miss Ann!"
"Give us a show, Ann!" Moderate cheered as Anne eagerly waved to the audience.
"As many of y'all know, Ann here's got herself a Devil Fruit power!" Moderate declared, pulling out a sketch of a fiery dragon from his coat.
Ann raised her hand knowingly, reciting, "Viso-Viso Vision!"
Suddenly, a colossal fire dragon materialized in the nearby inland sea, spewing scorching flames and sending the surrounding pirates scrambling in fear.
"Viso-Viso Fruit! This ability lets ya conjure up images as phantoms, though they vanish quick," Moderate explained once more.
"Wow! That Devil Fruit sure packs a punch, but it's a shame..."
Onboard the Ryu-Sen, Atlas gripped the telescope tightly, observing the spectacle below.
"Tsk, tsk, a shame it's just a trick. If it stuck around longer, heh," Atlas muttered disappointingly.
"What's going on? Can I see?" Smoker inquired, leaning in to get a better view.
"Get aside, what can a brat like you see?" Atlas snapped back dismissively.
Turning his attention away from Smoker, Atlas addressed Kyros. "How's it looking? Did Onigumo and the crew make it?"
"We're almost ready. All we have to do is wait for you to press the golden den den mushi, and we'll catch all these pirates in one fell swoop," Kyros confirmed.
"Tell them to start the encirclement. Let's make preparations and use the Ryu-Sen to clean the ground first," Atlas ordered.
Meanwhile, on the island, Moderate continued his introduction.
"There's a reason this Pirate Festival held here every year!" he exclaimed. "Long ago, before the Great Age of Pirates kicked off, the Pirate King Gold Roger stumbled upon this very island and buried treasures beyond imagination!"
"He left behind a cryptic message: 'In the deep and high darkness, our answer is buried!' Now, it's time to unravel this mystery!"
In truth, this message only fooled those lacking insider knowledge. Anyone with connections in the pirate world knew exactly who was pulling the strings this time.
Upon hearing the news, Crocodile hastened his pace towards the commotion.
After all, he and that man shared a history.
Suddenly, a deafening rumble echoed across the inland sea. A massive whirlpool materialized in the center of the tri-sea channel ahead, greedily consuming vast amounts of seawater.
While all eyes were fixed on the unfolding spectacle, none noticed the silent approach of one warship after another, looming closer to the island. An eerie sense of foreboding began to permeate the skies above...
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