After turning into sand, Crocodile rode the wind and fled several kilometers without stopping. Only when the battleship that had become the stuff of his nightmares disappeared from view did he finally stop.
"Damn it!"
He looked down at his disheveled clothes and cursed under his breath.
When he had set out, he had been riding high, a future Shichibukai basking in glory.
Now that he had returned and actually become a Shichibukai, he looked more wretched than an ordinary pirate.
The contrast was enormous. If Crocodile had not been so reserved with his emotions, he might well have covered his face and wept.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the resentment and agitation churning inside him, then prepared to head back to his territory.
Yet before moving, he turned his head almost involuntarily and glanced in the direction he had just come from.
It dawned on him that, for some time to come, he probably would not be able to hold his head up in front of that young man.
"Tch."
Whether he was mocking someone else or himself, or merely venting without meaning anything by it—perhaps all three—even Crocodile did not know.
Another gust of wind swept past, leaving the spot empty.
The Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Built atop the Red Line, this holy land was also the center of the World Government's power.
And at the center of that center of power stood the World Government's true rulers: five old men, each with his own distinctive features.
They were known as the Five Elders.
At that moment, in an understated yet luxurious, hall-like room at the top of Mary Geoise, the Five Elders sat together as though they were merely five ordinary old men chatting.
Then one of the Five Elders spoke.
He had a