The Grand Line gave way to the southern horizon in a blaze of light, revealing a vast and golden continent carved not by rivers or forests, but by the endless breath of the desert. The sand stretched like an ocean, rolling in waves beneath a sky that burned with sun and silence. This was Alabasta—a kingdom as ancient as it was weary, a crown buried beneath dust, its people clinging to the final embers of hope. Though once proud, the land now whispered its despair into the dunes. Beneath its polished palaces and faded banners, a slow collapse had already begun. War, betrayal, and drought had not yet broken the surface, but the cracks ran deep. It was a kingdom not waiting to be saved, but begging—silently—for someone to end its suffering.
The Abyss Serpent sailed through the final veil of mist like a ghost. Its black sails drank in the last of the starlight, billowing against the wind like wings of shadow. The ship moved with a strange grace, its hull groaning as though the wood itself remembered the weight of old wars. Forged from Abyss-warped timber and stitched with runes of command, it was not merely a vessel—it was a herald. Every wave that broke before it, every gust of wind that dared press against it, seemed to bow.
From the prow, I stared ahead toward the distant kingdom. Even now, before dawn, Alubarna—the capital—sat like a crown of stone, resting in silence at the heart of the desert. It did not stir. It did not know what approached. Velra stood silently behind me, her hand resting on the haft of her spear. The wind caught the edges of her cloak, lifting it like wings, the crimson stitching on her armor glowing faintly in the pale light. She was still, but her gaze never wavered. Her presence was sharper than any blade. Mihawk leaned against the mainmast, his arms crossed, eyes half-closed in thought. Yoru rested across his back like a slumbering god. There was no conversation between us. No need for words. We could all feel it. The air itself had shifted. This was no longer preparation. This was no longer silence. This was conquest.
The System's voice rang out in my mind, clean and cold.
[Main Campaign Objective: Alabasta Conquest Activated.]
[Mission Priority:]→ Uncover and neutralize internal destabilization agents.→ Seize control of Alabasta Royal Authority.→ Establish First Abyssal Stronghold in Grand Line.
[Bonus Target Identified:]→ Crocodile — Warlord of the Sea.→ Threat Level: B+ Rank (Warlord-Class).
There was no hesitation. Velra descended into the southern ports under cover of mist and shadow. Her footsteps left no sound. She moved through alleys and across rooftops like smoke. Where she passed, information unraveled. Patrol patterns. Guard weaknesses. Merchant alliances. Every secret the kingdom tried to hide began bleeding into her hands. Mihawk disappeared shortly after. He stepped from the deck and simply was no longer there. He walked the outer towns, the oases, the black markets. He spoke little. He listened often. Rumors clung to him like dust to steel. The people felt him before they saw him, and even then, they did not understand what they were witnessing.
And I—I reached into the land itself.
With the Abyss, I pressed into the soul of Alabasta. I felt the despair threading through its cities. The erosion of hope in its people. The quiet terror in its nobles. I touched the bones of the kingdom, the dried veins beneath its skin, the ancient throne crumbling under the weight of legacy and fear. Crocodile had buried his claws deep. Behind a false mask of savior and protector, he had poisoned the nation. Baroque Works was no scattered network. It was a machine. A kingdom within a kingdom. Assassins and agents, bounty hunters, spies, and saboteurs—all dressed as farmers, servants, guards, and merchants. He had infected the king's court. The army. The economy. Even the streets of the capital whispered his name, though no one dared speak it aloud.
Perfect.
I did not want a clean kingdom. I wanted a broken one—one ready to fall with the slightest push. The System responded again, but this time, its voice changed. Deeper. Older. This was not merely a mission. This was a prophecy.
[System Special Quest Generated!]
[Quest: Abyssal Supremacy Over the Seven Warlords of the Sea.]
[Objective:]→ Subjugate or annihilate all current Warlords of the Sea.→ Convert survivors into Abyss Knights or Abyss Lords under Ravro's Throne.
[Warlords Identified:]→ Dracule Mihawk (Status: Subjugated)→ Crocodile (Status: Targeted)→ Boa Hancock→ Donquixote Doflamingo→ Jinbei→ Bartholomew Kuma→ Gecko Moria
[Completion Reward:]→ World Authority +15%→ Title Unlocked: Abyss Sovereign of the Grand Line.
I closed the System window with a thought and turned. Velra approached from the stairwell, her eyes gleaming beneath her helm. Mihawk emerged from the opposite side of the ship, his expression unreadable. They came to stand before me—my first knights. My first blades.
"Our fortress stands behind us," I said, my voice low but firm. "But the world lies ahead." I stepped forward, the wind curling around my boots. "Our banners fly. Our blades are sharp." I looked toward the desert again, now glowing faintly as the horizon swallowed the night. "Now we begin."
I let the words build slowly, each one heavy, each one a vow carved in shadow. "If a king must conquer every battlefield alone," I said, "then why have knights?"
Mihawk tilted his head, one brow arching slightly. Interest flashed behind his golden eyes.
"You," I said, eyes locked on his, "will begin the Hunt."
He smiled faintly—a predator sensing prey. "As you command," he said. "But know this… some of them will not kneel easily."
I smiled back, cold and sharp. "I do not need easy. I need victory."
He bowed his head—not in submission, but allegiance. In that moment, the first sword of my empire was unleashed upon the world.
Velra stepped forward. "What of Alabasta?"
I turned again to the dunes. The wind was stronger now. The air heavier.
"Crocodile first," I said. "Then the throne."
A pause.
"And then… the world will understand why kings are feared."
The ship continued its path toward the coast, the morning light rising in full behind us. Ahead, the capital slept, unaware of the storm that approached. But it would not sleep for long.
Alabasta's fate was sealed.
And though the world did not yet know it—
It had already been conquered.