Reincarnated in the world of One Piece

-Present-

King Cobra's gaze returned to Vivi, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and sorrow. The wind howled across the high walls of Alubarna, carrying with it the acrid stench of smoke, blood, and burning flesh. Below, the battlefield was a swirling maelstrom of chaos—steel clashing against steel, cries of pain and fury rising like a dissonant symphony. "We made this choice together, Vivi," he said, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of his decisions. "And now, we must see it through."

Vivi looked up at him, her violet eyes glistening with unshed tears. The golden sands of Alabasta, once a symbol of their kingdom's pride, were now stained crimson, littered with the broken bodies of soldiers and pirates alike. "But at what cost, Father?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "How many more will die before this ends?"

King Cobra's expression softened, but his resolve remained unshaken. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm yet comforting. "As many as it takes," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of a king who had borne too much. "But we will not let their sacrifices be in vain."

His gaze shifted back to the battlefield, where Pell, Chaka, and Igaram fought desperately against Mr. 1. The assassin moved like a machine, his blades slicing through the air with deadly precision. Pell's wings were battered, his talons slick with blood. Chaka's jackal form was limping, his breaths ragged, and Igaram's sword arm trembled as he parried blow after blow. The tide was turning, and not in their favor.

"It's not going well," King Cobra muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. His sharp eyes flicked to the shadows behind him, where two figures stood silently, their presence almost imperceptible. They were like phantoms, their forms blending seamlessly with the darkness, as if they were part of the very air itself. "You two," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Go."

As he spoke, the two figures stepped forward, emerging fully into the light. The first was Khalid, the Sunhammer, a towering monolith of a man with a warhammer resting over his broad shoulder. His armor was etched with the symbol of Alabasta's sun, its golden rays glowing faintly as if imbued with the very essence of their kingdom. His face was stern, his jaw set like granite, and his eyes burned with an unyielding resolve. 

At his words, the figures stepped forward, emerging fully into the light.

The first was Khalid, the Sunhammer—a towering monolith of a man. A massive warhammer rested over his broad shoulder, and his armor bore the emblem of Alabasta's sun, its golden rays glowing faintly as if imbued with the kingdom's very essence. His face was stern, his jaw set like granite, and his eyes burned with unyielding resolve.

Beside him stood Samira, the Sandstorm, a shadow in motion. Her dark, flowing robes rippled like desert winds, and twin curved blades hung at her sides, their edges gleaming like shards of moonlight. Her piercing gaze cut through the chaos below, sharp and unwavering.

Then, in perfect unison, their voices rang out—one like rolling thunder, the other like a whisper carried by the wind.

"We will not fail you, Your Majesty."

And just like that, they vanished into thin air, as if they had never been there in the first place.

Vivi's eyes widened as she noticed the faint outlines of the figures for the first time. They seemed to materialize from the darkness, their forms shifting like mirages in the desert heat. One was a towering giant, his silhouette broad and imposing, while the other was lithe and agile, her movements fluid and precise. "Father..." Vivi whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of battle. "Who are they?"

King Cobra turned to her, his expression grave but filled with a quiet pride. "These two were meant to remain in the shadows, Vivi," he said, his voice steady. "If I were to fall, they would be the ones to protect you and ensure Alabasta's survival. They are the last line of defense—the guardians of our future."

Vivi stared at them, her heart pounding in her chest. They were unlike anyone she had ever seen—warriors forged in the fires of duty and sacrifice. "They've been here all this time... waiting?" she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

King Cobra nodded, his expression grave. "Yes. They are the embodiment of our resolve, Vivi. And now, the time has come to unleash them."

As Khalid and Samira disappeared into the maelstrom below, King Cobra turned to Vivi, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Remember this, Vivi. No matter what happens, Alabasta will endure. These two... they are our final hope. And so are you."

Vivi clenched her fists, her tears drying as determination filled her heart. She looked out over the battlefield, her gaze unwavering. "I won't let their sacrifices be in vain, Father. I promise."

Khalid and Samira exchanged a look, their movements synchronized as though they had practiced this moment for lifetimes. With an understanding nod, they disappeared in a flash, heading toward the battlefield with the weight of Alabasta's future in their hands.

.....

The battlefield was a storm of chaos—steel clashing against steel, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of flames consuming what was left of Alubarna's once-proud streets. Smoke hung heavy in the air, casting a hazy veil over the carnage. The ground trembled under the weight of collapsing buildings, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of blood and gunpowder. Amidst the turmoil, a lone figure moved with the grace of a shadow, her presence unnoticed by the warring factions.

Nico Robin stood at the edge of the battlefield, her tall, slender frame draped in a long, dark coat that fluttered in the wind. Her wide-brimmed hat shielded her face from the sun, but her sharp, observant eyes missed nothing. Her raven-black hair framed her face, and her calm, enigmatic smile hinted at secrets she would never share. She was a woman who moved through the world like a ghost, leaving no trace of her presence.

Her gaze shifted to the center of the battlefield, where Daz Bones was locked in combat with the Royal Guards—Pell, Chaka, and Igaram. The steel-bodied assassin was a whirlwind of blades, his movements precise and deadly. But even he was being pushed back by the combined efforts of the Royal Guards. Robin's lips curved into a faint smile.

"Daz Bones is occupied," she murmured, her voice low and melodic. "With him tied down, I can slip away unnoticed... This works well in my favor."

She turned away, her coat billowing behind her as she moved through the chaos with effortless grace. Around her, the war raged on—Royal Guards clashed with Baroque Works agents, their weapons flashing in the sunlight. A cannonball exploded nearby, sending debris flying in all directions, but Robin didn't flinch. She stepped over the body of a fallen soldier, her expression calm and unreadable.

As she reached the outskirts of the battlefield, her sharp eyes caught a glimpse of two figures approaching near where Daz Bones was, their presence radiating power and determination. Robin's smile widened slightly. "A back hand....not bad King Cobra...: "This works well in my favor."

But she had no time to linger. Her escape was her priority now. She stepped into the ruins of a crumbling tower, the sound of her boots echoing faintly against the stone. From here, she could see the full extent of the destruction—the burning buildings, the bodies littering the streets, the desperate struggle for survival.

"This kingdom will rise again," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But it will never be the same."

Her thoughts turned to the Black Flame Pirates, the crew that had upended Baroque Works and set this chaos into motion. They were an anomaly, a force that defied prediction. For the first time in years, Robin felt a flicker of curiosity. "What will you do next, I wonder?" she mused, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. "The world is watching."

A faint rustling sound drew her attention, and she turned to see a small bird perched on the edge of the rooftop. It tilted its head, its beady eyes fixed on her. Robin smiled, a genuine warmth creeping into her expression. "Even in the midst of chaos, life finds a way," she said, extending a hand. The bird hesitated for a moment before fluttering onto her palm.

But the moment of peace was fleeting. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed from below, and Robin's smile faded. She released the bird, watching as it took flight and disappeared into the smoke-filled sky.

Her gaze still lingered on the empty space where it had been.

"With Crocodile dead… I can no longer linger in his shadow...."

"..... and so it's time to go," she said, her voice firm.

As she turned to leave, a voice called out from behind her. "Where the hell do you think you're going, traitor?"

Robin paused, her back still turned. She didn't need to look to know who it was—a group of Baroque Works agents, led by Ms. Zaka, had spotted her, their weapons drawn. Ms. Zaka's face was twisted with rage, her eyes burning with hatred. "You think you can just walk away, Miss All Sunday? After betraying us?"

Robin sighed softly, her expression calm and unbothered. "Must you interfere?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I have no quarrel with you."

Ms. Zaka snarled, her grip tightening on her weapon. "No quarrel? You sold us out! Crocodile's dead because of you, and now you think you can just disappear?" She stepped forward, her voice rising to a shout. "I'll make sure you pay for what you've done!"

The other agents moved to surround Robin, their weapons raised, their eyes filled with murderous intent.One of them, a burly man with a scar carving down his cheek, cracked his knuckles. "We're gonna break every bone in your body, traitor. Let's see how well you run after that."

Robin's smile returned, but this time, it was cold. Merciless.

"How ironic." Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried a weight that made the air feel heavy. "You speak of breaking bones... yet it is yours that will never heal."

Before the scarred man could react, arms sprouted from his body, twisting his limbs in an instant.

A sickening series of cracks echoed through the battlefield. His scream was horrific, a sound of pure, unfiltered agony as his arms and legs were snapped in multiple places, bent at angles that no human body should allow. He collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing from the pain, but he would never stand again.

Ms. Zaka lunged, her blade flashing. Robin didn't even spare her a glance. More arms bloomed from Zaka's shoulders, her own limbs seized mid-strike. She fought, struggled, teeth bared in rage. "You think this will stop us? You can run, but we'll find you—"

Robin tightened her grip. Zaka's own hands were forced downward, her fingers crushed into the hilt of her weapon, nerves and bones shattering beneath the pressure. She let out a strangled, breathless cry as her knees buckled.

Robin leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "You misunderstand." She twisted. A sickening snap.

Zaka's legs gave out completely. She crumpled, eyes wide in shock, as if only now realizing—she would never walk again.

Robin turned her gaze to the rest. Some tried to crawl away, dragging their broken bodies through the dirt. One, clutching his dislocated shoulder, looked up at her in sheer horror. "You… you monster."

Robin exhaled softly, brushing nonexistent dust from her coat. "Perhaps." She turned toward the shadows, moving with a detached, almost lazy grace, as if none of this had even been worth the effort. But time was short.

Even now, she could feel it—the weight of unseen eyes, watching her from the depths of the battlefield like a predator tracking its prey. The World Government's reach was long, and staying here any longer would be a mistake. News of this would spread, and soon, they would be hunting her again. Robin didn't spare the broken agents another glance. They were finished.

Her coat billowed as she stepped into the darkness, her voice carrying softly over the distant screams and clash of steel. "I have no time for anymore distractions," she said, her voice calm but firm. "My journey to uncover the mysteries of the Poneglyphs cannot be delayed."

With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving the agents immobilized and writhing in pain. The battlefield raged on behind her, unaware that the true architect of this chaos had already moved beyond it. The war, set in motion by the Black Flame Pirates, had altered the course of history—and with it, Robin's path. The Straw Hat Pirates would never meet her here.

...

The ground trembled as Mr. 1's heavy, relentless footsteps echoed across the battlefield, his every movement a declaration of death. The warriors who faced him were battered, their spirits unbroken, but even they could not help but feel the oppressive weight of his presence. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, bored into their souls as his blades twirled with deadly elegance.

"These are your kingdoms finest warriors?" Mr. 1 sneered, his voice a low, grinding growl. He whipped his blades in an arc, the air howling as if it feared the carnage he would bring. "pathetic"

The ground beneath his feet split as Pell, Chaka, and Igaram rushed him from all sides. Pell's talons, darkened with blood, slashed through the air toward Mr. 1's throat, a flash of rage and desperation in his eyes. Chaka, in his jackal form, prowled with fluid grace, aiming for the blind spots in Mr. 1's defense. Igaram, his sword shining with the grit of the battlefield, came in from behind, his strike aiming for a devastating downward arc.

But Mr. 1 was a storm, and they were merely the rain. With a flick of his wrist, his blades came to life, cutting through their attacks as though they were paper. Pell's talons met steel, the force of the collision sending shockwaves through his body. He grunted, staggering back. Chaka darted in and out, claws slashing, but Mr. 1 parried, the weight of each deflected strike driving him back. Igaram, ever undeterred, swung his sword—but Mr. 1's movements were so fast, it was as if time itself bent to his will.

Mr. 1 didn't even look fazed. "Don't even think about it," he muttered, shoving them back. Then—his expression changed. A subtle shift in his stance. A flicker of awareness in his sharp eyes.

A heartbeat later, two more strikes came from different angles. A slash from the right. A piercing thrust from behind. Mr. 1 twisted, his body reacting instinctively. His arms moved in a blur of silver, blocking both attacks simultaneously. Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel. The sheer force of the impact cracked the ground beneath them.

As the dust settled, two figures stood before him—Samira and Khalid.

A slow, calculating smirk crept onto Mr. 1's face. "Two more nuisances have arrived." The battlefield stilled for a brief moment.

Then, the Royal Guards spotted the new arrivals. Their cloaks rippled in the wind, the royal insignia gleaming against the bloodstained battlefield. One of the soldiers gasped. "Look! Reinforcements!" Another murmured in relief, "Maybe… maybe we can turn this around."

But confusion flickered across the ranks. "Wait… I've never seen them before."

"You're right," another soldier admitted, narrowing his eyes. "But they bear the royal crest—just like Pell and Chaka. That means they're on our side." At the same time, Baroque Works agents watched with cold amusement.

One of them sneered. "Hah! Two more? That won't change a damn thing."

Another scoffed. "Yeah, we're still in control! Mr. 1 will tear through them just like the rest. Don't lose your nerve—kill these bastards! Show them what Baroque Works is made of!" 

Samira rolled her shoulders, her expression calm despite the chaos. "Looks like you guys could use a hand."

Pell let out a short laugh. "Hah… you could say that," he admitted, stretching his wings. "Right on time, too."

As the battlefield trembled with the echoes of steel and war cries, Khalid's gaze swept over the familiar faces before him. A sharp breath left his lips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Been a while since we fought side by side, huh?" His grip tightened around his weapon. "Feels good to be back in the chaos with you all."

Igaram, dusting off his tattered coat, let out a heavy sigh. His voice was quiet but firm. "Since you two are here… that means the king has made his last move."

For a brief moment, silence fell over the around them, the weight of those words sinking in.

Igaran , his golden eyes burning with resolve, nodded. "Even if I fall here, I'll make sure to take Daz Bones with me."

"Im sure the King Cobra wishes the opposite," Samira chuckled, tilting her head. 

Khalid let out a low laugh, shaking his head." His fingers curled around his weapon. "That bastard's not dying until I say so."

At that moment, the desert felt still, as if even the wind held its breath. The five warriors stood united, their eyes focused on the lone figure in the center of the storm. Mr. 1 was unimpressed. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing with a chilling metallic scrape as his bladed arms shifted. "More trash added will still amount to nothing," he sneered, his body standing tall and unmoving, seemingly unafraid of the oncoming onslaught.

Khalid, however, did not flinch. His lips curved into a predatory grin as his fingers tightened around his scimitar's hilt, his body already coiling with the anticipation of battle. "We'll see about that."