Michael's lips twitched.
At twenty-seven, Crocodile should currently be at the peak of his confidence.
After all, he'd fought Douglas Bullet—the so-called "Demon Heir"—to a standstill.
And he hadn't yet challenged Whitebeard, meaning his spirit hadn't been crushed yet.
In other words, he shouldn't have started obsessing over obtaining Pluton's power at this stage, right?
"How accurate is this information... are you sure?"
"If it were just the intelligence brought back by the scholars, I might hesitate a little. But now, there's also that bizarre sandstorm in Rain Dinners—something never seen before..." Cobra said with a grave expression, nodding.
"Putting the two together, it's almost certainly true."
After listening to Cobra, Michael frowned.
No matter how you looked at it, combining these two pieces of intelligence was enough to confirm it—Crocodile had indeed arrived in Alabasta.
"Ah, one more thing!" Cobra suddenly remembered something and hurriedly added, "The scholar who returned was absolutely certain—Crocodile is injured!"
Michael was momentarily stunned.
Don't be fooled by Crocodile's bounty of just 81 million—that was the price he commanded after only a few years in the game.
Take for example that guy who kidnapped Hancock and her sisters, only to be instantly killed by Smoker—his bounty was 76 million, seemingly close to Crocodile's level.
But if they actually fought, he'd be wiped out in seconds.
After all, one started at 81 million, while the other peaked at 76 million.
And judging by Crocodile's past stalemate with Bullet, there shouldn't be many people capable of injuring him...
Unless he had provoked one of those old monsters.
"Tomorrow, I'll go to Rain Dinners and investigate personally," Michael said, nodding to Cobra.
"Whether as your friend or as the commander of the Alabasta Marine branch, I won't stand by and do nothing."
"Whew, that's a relief." With that, Cobra finally felt a weight lift from his chest.
"You have no idea—ever since I got this news, I haven't been able to sleep properly for days..."
"Then hurry up and go back to sleep! You could've just told me this tomorrow morning, couldn't you!?" Michael sighed, looking at Cobra, who was acting completely unlike his usual regal self.
"Your child is about to be born—shouldn't you be keeping your wife company at night, you shameless fool!?"
"Ahem, I was just too anxious."
Cobra looked a little embarrassed, but there was no helping it...
How could he rest easy with a threat lurking nearby?
A notorious pirate with a Logia Devil Fruit ability—and the Sand-Sand Fruit, no less!
In Alabasta, his powers would be amplified to an absurd degree.
Honestly, this was even more likely to cause serious consequences than the matter with the Alabasta scholars.
So, not telling Michael was simply out of the question—he couldn't relax at all otherwise.
"Alright, get going already." Michael waved him off, then suddenly gave Cobra a puzzled look.
"Wait a minute—even so, why are you dressed like you're about to commit a robbery?"
"Cough, cough... Well, Igaram is currently leading Chaka and Pell on a manhunt to drag me back to work."
"So you were just trying to skip work!? Get back to your duties, you damn king!"
In the end, under Michael's scolding and shooing, Cobra slunk out of the estate like a scolded dog.
Watching Cobra's retreating figure, Michael flashed a kind yet devious smile...
He picked up the Den Den Mushi and dialed a number.
"Your king just ran out of my estate."
"That's right, you can definitely intercept him at that broken low wall near your palace!"
Outskirts of Rainbase.
Deep in the desert, there was an enormous sandstorm that had remained stationary since its appearance.
Even though there was barely a breeze this night, it showed no signs of stopping.
"Crunch, crunch, crunch..."
The sound of footsteps on sand echoed clearly through the silent night sky.
The man making these footsteps looked up, revealing a pair of distinctly hawk-like eyes.
He reached back to draw his massive black blade, then unleashed a simple Armament Haki-infused Flying Slash that split the sky.
The previously unceasing sandstorm gradually dissipated.
"Hey, Hawkeye, what brings you to my territory?"
Dressed in a suit vest with a fur coat draped over his shoulders, a cigar in his mouth and a golden hook for a hand.
This was none other than Sir Crocodile.
The man who had drawn the black blade was naturally "Hawkeye" Dracule Mihawk.
Two future Warlords of the Sea, the original founders of Cross Guild in the story, had now met in the desert outskirts of Rainbase.
"I was simply curious about what could have possibly injured you," Hawkeye said with his usual expressionless face, all emotion conveyed solely through those piercing eyes.
"While I don't particularly admire Devil Fruit Users, I've never denied their power—especially Logia Fruit Users."
"Enough with the sarcasm," Crocodile snorted coldly. "Are you here to fight me? I heard you've stopped hunting marines."
"To be precise... I only tried hunting them once and failed," Hawkeye admitted without hesitation.
"It was after that incident that I realized I might have misunderstood the marines—certain marines, to be exact."
"I don't care about your motives!" Crocodile seemed tired of Hawkeye's monotonous narration. "I need you to get lost. Now!"
"Even for a pirate, your temper is remarkably foul."
Completely ignoring Crocodile's threat, Hawkeye instead walked towards the sand-constructed camp Crocodile had made.
"I've brought you important information."
"Information?" Crocodile frowned. "What information?"
"First tell me who wounded you."
"...Damn it." Having been isolated in the desert for some time, Crocodile furrowed his brows in thought before reluctantly conceding.
"Fine, it's not like it's some great secret."
Crocodile sat down on a nearby "sand" sofa and said.
"After all, losing to the right and left hands of the Pirate King isn't exactly shameful."
"The Pirate King's right and left hands?" Hawkeye suddenly showed interest.
"That's right. I challenged Rayleigh and Gaban."
"And the results... well, you can see for yourself."
Crocodile opened his coat to reveal three gruesome wounds that still bled through their bandages.
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