"Yeah, Crocodile?"
Vane's voice was calm, almost mocking. "That's what I do. I move however I want."
He laughed as he dropped from the sky, his body descending with frightening speed. His boot came down, aimed directly at Crocodile's head.
Crocodile's expression shifted in shock. He hadn't expected Vane to be able to fly. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. Crocodile tried to evade, but Vane's foot caught him squarely on the shoulder.
The pressure was unbearable. It was as though a mountain had been slammed onto his body. The sound of bones cracking echoed in his ears as his body was flung violently to the side. Vane twisted his foot and sent Crocodile flying straight into a building.
The wall shattered instantly. Dust and rubble exploded outward as Crocodile crashed through, coughing blood. His face paled as he staggered, barely able to hold himself upright.
Vane's attacks were overwhelming. Crocodile's strength, formidable compared to most, was nowhere near that of an Admiral, let alone someone on the level of the Pirate Emperors. He knew Vane wasn't fighting with the intent to kill. The Suna Suna no Mi was too valuable a power to waste. No, Vane didn't want his death—he wanted his submission.
But Crocodile was stubborn. His pride wouldn't allow him to kneel so easily. Vane understood this from the beginning. Words alone wouldn't break him. Force would.
Crocodile wiped the blood from his mouth and knelt on one knee, his breathing ragged. His body felt heavier than iron, but his spirit burned. Before him stood the Pirate Emperor, a man who could rival even Whitebeard.
Vane moved again, his figure blurring. His foot lashed out, striking Crocodile in the ribs before he could even react. Crocodile was launched through the air, coughing up more blood. Before he hit the ground, Vane was already above him, dropping another devastating kick.
The impact shook the desert floor, creating a crater beneath them. Crocodile writhed in the dirt, his body refusing to move. His Logia intangibility meant nothing. Vane's Armament Haki bypassed it completely, each blow crushing his defenses.
Crocodile groaned. Every strike carried humiliation with it. To be manhandled by someone so much younger, someone who hadn't even used their full strength—it carved deep scars into his pride.
Vane gave him no room to breathe. Crocodile tried to summon his sand, to unleash the devastating power of the Suna Suna no Mi, but Vane was already upon him, driving him into the ground with another punishing kick.
His body slammed into a massive rock, the impact shattering it into pieces. Crocodile fell to his knees, gasping. His once-pristine coat was torn, his cloak destroyed, and even a couple of his teeth were missing. Blood trickled freely from his wounds. His face was pale, haggard, his entire figure battered beyond recognition.
"I… I surrender!"
The words tore from his throat, desperate and raw.
Vane's clenched fist eased, his sharp gaze softening only slightly. He had expected Crocodile to hold out longer, to force him into a prolonged fight. Instead, the proud desert king crumbled faster than anticipated.
Still, this saved him the trouble. If the fight had continued, Crocodile would've been broken mentally, perhaps even destroyed beyond repair.
What Vane didn't know was that Crocodile already carried a deep psychological scar. Being beaten so effortlessly, so brutally, by someone so much younger than himself—it left a shadow that would linger for a long time.
"Yes," Crocodile muttered bitterly, blood still dripping from his lip. "I surrendered."
Vane released his [Conqueror's Haki], letting it ripple outward in a storm of invisible force. The air pressure swept away the swirling dust and rubble. Within seconds, the desert battlefield cleared, the ruined cityscape revealed under the harsh sun.
Crocodile trembled. The weight of that Haki was immense, oppressive—comparable even to Whitebeard's. He knew well what it meant. The strength of a Conqueror's Haki reflected the strength of one's will and power. And this man, Rhett Vane, was no ordinary Pirate Emperor.
Crocodile let out a bitter laugh that quickly turned into a cough. He had always hated Whitebeard, despised him as a rival. But Whitebeard had never even acknowledged him. And now, here he was, forced to kneel to another Emperor, one just as terrifying.
He had no choice. Resistance was death. Survival meant obedience.
For Crocodile, the humiliation was unbearable. But for Vane, this was exactly what he wanted.
The desert king had fallen.
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