Chapter 681
Alabasta, Grand Line
Lily’s hands trembled as she traced the inked symbols spread across the first page of the World Times. The paper itself seemed ordinary. But the words printed upon it...were not. They carried the weight of a thousand forbidden years.
Across the world, kingdoms had already begun to stir. Scholars were being summoned in desperation, ancient texts unearthed, libraries torn apart in search of even the faintest clue. The revelation had ignited a frenzy—every nation scrambling to decode what had once been beyond comprehension.
An entire Poneglyph—translated and laid bare for the world. And yet, for most, it was only the beginning of a long, uncertain journey. Reconstructing a language born from an advanced, lost civilization was no simple task.
But for Lily... It was different. Because she didn’t need to learn it. She already knew. Her lips parted slightly, breath uneven as her eyes moved across the script again—slowly, carefully, as if hoping she had made a mistake. But she hadn’t. Every word...was authentic. Every line... Perfect. There was no doubt. The script was real.
"So... the script is genuine?" The voice that cut through the silence was low. Gruff. Controlled. And it made her flinch. Seated a short distance away, Sir Crocodile lounged on a large boulder, one leg crossed over the other, his posture deceptively relaxed. A cigar burned steadily between his fingers, thin trails of smoke curling upward into the dry Alabastan air.
But his eyes— Cold. Unblinking. Locked onto her. Lily’s body reacted before her mind could. A shiver ran down her spine as she instinctively lowered her gaze. Ever since her recapture... there had been no mercy. Crocodile was not a man of patience when it came to weakness or defiance. A wrong glance, a hesitation, even silence at the wrong moment—any of it could earn her a brutal beating.
Pain had become routine. Fear... constant.
"H-Hmm..." she nodded weakly, her voice barely escaping her throat. That was all the confirmation he needed. A sudden crack shattered the air. Lily flinched violently.
Besides Crocodile, a pirate—one foolish enough to infiltrate Alabasta in search of its rumored Poneglyph—never even had the chance to scream. Crocodile’s hand tightened around his skull for a fraction of a second—and then crushed it effortlessly.
The body dropped lifelessly to the ground. Another corpse. Another warning. Crocodile didn’t even glance at it. Alabasta was his. Its secrets—his. And he had no intention of sharing.
The sandy beach around them told the same story.
Dozens of bodies lay scattered across the shoreline, twisted in unnatural positions. Most were barely recognizable as human anymore—reduced to shriveled husks, their moisture drained entirely, their forms resembling ancient mummies more than the men they once were.
A graveyard. Silent. Still. All victims of his power. For once...even someone like Crocodile had been caught off guard. He had only recently secured Lily—his key to unlocking the secrets buried within Alabasta. Everything had been proceeding according to his design. Controlled. Calculated. Predictable.
And then—this. The publication of the Poneglyph script had shattered that balance overnight. Now the world was moving. Ambitious fools, scholars, pirates—countless forces had been stirred into action, all chasing the same forbidden truth.
Even him. For a fleeting moment, the thought had crossed his mind. The Holy Land. The supposed secret of immortality. A prize beyond even the Poneglyphs. Crocodile exhaled slowly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"...Tch." Tempting. Very tempting. But he was no fool. He understood the rules of this world better than most. Anyone who so much as looked toward that throne... was already marked for death.
His gaze shifted back to Lily.
For now, Alabasta was enough. The Poneglyph hidden within this ancient kingdom... was still the key to finding an ancient weapon. And with the world spiraling into chaos... It would only make his move that much more valuable.
"Keep reading," Crocodile said coldly, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Every word." Because in a world where secrets were becoming weapons, he intended to be the one holding the sharpest blade.
Lily obeyed. She had no choice. Even if she had wanted to lie—wanted to twist the meaning, omit details, or mislead him—it would have been pointless. The newspaper had already stripped away that possibility. Every symbol, every line of the Poneglyph had been laid bare, translated with terrifying precision. There was nothing left to hide.
And that was what made it worse. Her fingers trembled slightly as her eyes continued to move across the page, her voice soft and unsteady as she read aloud. But inside, a storm raged. Because she recognized it. Not just the language. Not just the structure. But the Poneglyph itself.
Her breath caught for a fraction of a second. This was the same one. The very same Poneglyph that had once been hidden beneath the great tree of Ohara... the one the scholars had risked everything to study in secret.
The one that had led to their destruction. The memory struck like a blade. Fire. Screams. The deafening roar of Buster Call. Ohara... erased from existence for daring to uncover fragments of the truth now printed so casually before the world. And now— that same forbidden knowledge was being read aloud on a beach filled with corpses.
The irony made her stomach churn. As Lily continued, Crocodile listened in silence. But with every passing word... His expression darkened. A faint crease formed on his brow, his sharp mind already dissecting the implications behind what he was hearing.
"...Tch." The sound escaped him under his breath. This wasn’t random. It was calculated. Whoever had released this information knew exactly what they were doing. They hadn’t chosen a Poneglyph that revealed anything too critical. Nothing that directly pointed toward the greatest secrets of the world. Nothing that would immediately shift the balance of power.
No—this was something else. A demonstration. A warning. A declaration. They had revealed just enough. Enough to prove authenticity. Enough to ignite the world. Enough to make everyone realize—they had access. Crocodile’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Information. That was the true weapon here. And whoever stood behind the World Times... was wielding it masterfully. No one knew how many Poneglyphs they possessed. No one knew how much of the world’s true history they had already deciphered. And that uncertainty... was far more dangerous than any single revelation.
Crocodile exhaled slowly, the cigar between his lips burning lower. In just half a day... he had already killed over a hundred intruders. Pirates. Treasure hunters. Desperate fools drawn to Alabasta by rumors of ancient secrets.
And this—this was only the beginning. The world was about to descend into chaos. And chaos... was an opportunity. Crocodile leaned back slightly, his mind already moving several steps ahead. He couldn’t afford to be reactive. He had to take control. Immediately. Alabasta needed to fall completely under his command—before others set their sights on it. Because once the New World took notice... once the true monsters began to move... even a kingdom like this would become a battlefield.
And that was something he refused to allow. Not yet. Not when the prize was so close. His confidence in his own strength was absolute. But strength alone wasn’t enough in a game like this. No, this required precision. Strategy. Control. And that was where his title came into play.
Shichibukai. A weapon in its own right.
A shield. A mask. A tool. A slow, calculating smile spread across his face. He wouldn’t rule Alabasta as a conqueror. No— he would become its savior. The pirates flooding into its waters... the chaos spreading through its borders... he would use it. Exploit it. Turn every threat into proof of his "protection."
Every corpse into a message. Turn every victory into devotion. The people wouldn’t fear him. They would worship him. And by the time they realized the truth, it would already be too late. Crocodile’s gaze flicked back to Lily. Because in a world where information had become the most dangerous weapon of all, he intended to carve his empire...before anyone else could seize it from him.
"So this means..." Crocodile’s voice was calm. Too calm. "...you’ve been keeping things from me, haven’t you... Nico Lily?"
The words fell softly—but beneath them lurked something sharp enough to cut. For years, she had fed him fragments. Carefully measured truths. Just enough to keep his interest. Just enough to stay alive. She had made him believe the Poneglyph of Ohara contained only so much... that its knowledge, while valuable, was incomplete.
But now the newspaper had exposed the gaps. Small details. Subtle omissions. Nothing obvious to an untrained eye. But to someone like Crocodile? It was enough. Enough to know. Enough to realize she had lied. Crocodile rose from where he had been lounging, stepping down from the boulder with a soft, deliberate thud as his boots met the sand.
Each step he took afterward was unhurried. Measured. The kind of pace that made anticipation far worse than the act itself. "It seems..." he continued, rolling his shoulders slightly as he approached, "the lessons I’ve been teaching you..." A faint shadow fell over her. "...haven’t been harsh enough."
Lily’s body gave in before her mind could even react. She collapsed onto the sand, trembling uncontrollably. Her fingers clawed weakly at the ground as if trying to anchor herself—trying to escape a fate she already knew was inevitable. This wasn’t new. It was routine. Months. Months of the same cycle. Pain. Fear. Submission. She had once tried to run and almost succeeded. Only once. That courage had been broken long ago.
And now—now there was something worse. Something far more terrifying than Crocodile himself. Her worth. With the Poneglyph script now revealed to the world... with others potentially learning what she knew... She was no longer irreplaceable.
"I—I didn’t mean to..." her voice cracked, barely audible as she tried to push herself back, her body refusing to respond properly. Her limbs felt heavy. Frozen. Her breath came in shallow bursts. Instinct took over. She curled into herself, arms wrapping around her legs, her body folding into a fragile, defensive shape—one that had become all too familiar.
A silent plea. A futile shield. Crocodile stopped beside her. Then crouched. Close. Too close. His shadow swallowed her completely. For a moment—he simply stared. His eyes were cold. Calculating. Unmoved. A thought crossed his mind.
Simple. Efficient. Kill her. End it. She had deceived him. And in his world, that alone was enough. But then reason intervened. She still had value. Not as much as before. But enough.
Enough to keep breathing. For now. Crocodile exhaled slowly, the ember of his cigar glowing faintly in the dim light.
Then—without warning—he pressed it down. Directly onto her exposed calf. The searing contact was instant. A sharp hiss. Burning flesh. Pain exploded through Lily’s body like lightning, every nerve igniting at once. Her muscles tensed violently. Her fingers dug into the sand.
But—she didn’t scream. Not a sound escaped her lips. Because she knew. She had learned. Screaming made it worse. Resistance made it worse. Even a hint of defiance...would only invite something far more brutal. So she endured. Silently.
Her body trembling, her breath breaking, tears slipping soundlessly into the sand beneath her. Crocodile watched her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then he lifted the cigar, as if nothing of consequence had occurred. A faint trail of smoke curled into the air.
"Next time..." he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion, "you won’t make that mistake." It wasn’t a threat. It was a certainty. Because in his world, trust didn’t exist. Only usefulness did. And Lily... was running out of it.
****
The Water Gardens of Alubarna shimmered beneath the golden light of the afternoon sun. Clear streams wove through marble pathways, their gentle currents reflecting the sky like ribbons of liquid glass. Lush greenery flourished in careful harmony—palms swaying softly, vibrant flowers in full bloom, their fragrance carried by the desert breeze that had been tamed within these palace walls.
And at the heart of it all— laughter. Bright. Unrestrained. Pure. A tiny figure darted across the polished stone, her soft giggles echoing through the gardens like chimes of joy. Princess Vivi. Barely three years old, yet already the light of the palace.
Her sapphire-blue hair, soft and untamed, bounced with each hurried step as she ran between the palace maids, her tiny sandals pattering against the ground. Her wide, curious eyes sparkled with boundless wonder, reflecting everything around her as though the world itself was something magical—something meant to be explored.
"Wait for meee!" she called, her voice high and cheerful as she chased after one of the maids, who pretended to flee in exaggerated panic.
"Your Highness, you’re too fast for us!" another laughed, though none of them truly tried to escape. Because this— this was their joy. Her joy. And nothing in the palace mattered more. The guards stationed along the garden paths softened their expressions as she passed. Servants paused in their duties just to watch. Even the sternest of attendants couldn’t help but smile.
Because wherever the young princess went— Life followed. "Look! What’s that?" Vivi suddenly exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. Her small finger pointed ahead. Beyond a low stone archway, nestled beside a tranquil pool, lay a carefully maintained enclosure—home to one of Alabasta’s most treasured creatures.
The Super Spot-Billed Ducks. The caretakers, dressed in light desert garb, turned in surprise as the princess approached, her curiosity already pulling her forward before the maids could gently slow her down. Inside the enclosure, several large ducks waddled calmly, their distinctive spotted bills glinting faintly under the sun. But it wasn’t them that had caught her attention.
It was something else. Near the center, carefully cushioned within a nest of straw—an egg. Cracked. Shifting. Vivi’s eyes widened instantly.
"It’s moving!" she gasped, her voice dropping to an awed whisper as she pressed closer, her tiny hands gripping the edge of the enclosure. The caretakers exchanged glances, then smiled warmly.
"Your Highness," one of them said gently, kneeling beside her, "you’ve arrived at a very special moment."
The egg trembled again. A faint crack echoed. Then another. A tiny beak broke through the shell, pushing outward with surprising determination. Vivi leaned in, completely captivated, her breath catching as she watched life unfold before her eyes. Piece by piece, the shell gave way. A small, damp duckling struggled free, its soft feathers clinging together as it blinked into the world for the very first time.
For a moment, it simply sat there. Wobbling. Confused. Alive. Vivi’s face lit up. A radiant, unfiltered smile spread across her features, her eyes sparkling brighter than the waters around them.
"It’s so cute...!" she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. The duckling let out a small, uncertain chirp, its tiny body swaying as it tried to steady itself. And then— as if guided by instinct— It looked at her. The caretakers chuckled softly.
"It seems," one of them said, "that it has taken a liking to you, Your Highness."
Vivi gasped softly, placing a hand over her mouth. "Really...?"
The caretaker nodded. "In that case," he continued with a respectful bow of his head, "would you do us the honor of naming it?" The question seemed to freeze time itself. Vivi blinked. then looked back at the duckling. It chirped again. Soft. Innocent. Waiting. Her small brows furrowed slightly in deep concentration—a seriousness that seemed almost comical on such a young face.
Then—her expression brightened.
"Karoo!" she declared proudly, lifting her tiny hands in excitement. "His name is Karoo!" The duckling chirped loudly in response, as if accepting the name without hesitation. The caretakers laughed warmly, bowing once more.
"Karoo it is, Your Highness." Vivi clapped her hands happily, her laughter ringing out across the gardens once more. "Karoo!" she called again, crouching down closer.
The tiny duckling waddled forward clumsily, its unsteady steps carrying it straight toward her. And without hesitation, it nestled against her. Vivi’s eyes widened in delight.
"He likes me!" she beamed, gently reaching out to stroke its soft, damp feathers with the utmost care.
High above the shimmering Water Gardens, upon a marble balcony that overlooked the heart of Alubarna, stood the King of Alabasta. Nefertari Cobra. The desert wind brushed gently against his robes, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter—light, carefree, untouched by the burdens of the world.
His gaze remained fixed below. And for once...there was peace in his eyes. A soft smile rested upon his face as he watched the tiny figure of his daughter—Princess Vivi—dart along the edges of the pond, her delighted laughter echoing as she clumsily tried to follow the newborn Super Spot-Billed Duck that waddled just ahead of her.
The maids fussed and protested behind her, their voices filled with worry as they tried to keep her from slipping into the water. But Vivi only laughed harder. Unbothered. Alive. Beside Cobra, Igaram exhaled quietly, a faint smile of his own forming as he observed the scene below.
It had taken time. Far more than anyone had expected.
Three long years. Three years since the passing of Queen Titi. Three years since the palace had fallen into a suffocating silence, its halls heavy with grief. The King... broken. Withdrawn. A shadow of the man he once was. There had been days when Igaram feared the worst. Feared that the weight of loss would consume him entirely.
That Alabasta would lose not only its queen but also its king as well. But then there was Vivi. A single, fragile light. And somehow... that had been enough. If not for her... Igaram knew, without a doubt— Cobra would have been lost. Now, though the scars remained, they no longer ruled him.
The King had returned. The throne, once neglected under the weight of grief, had been reclaimed. The kingdom, which had begun to show cracks of instability, now stood steady once more under Cobra’s guidance.
He was ruling again. Not as a man burdened by sorrow— But as a father who had something left to protect. "She reminds me so much of Titi..." Cobra said softly.
His voice carried warmth. And something deeper. His eyes followed Vivi as she leaned too far toward the pond, only to be quickly pulled back by a flustered maid. The little princess pouted for a second... then burst into laughter again, completely unbothered. Cobra’s smile softened.
"Yes..." Igaram nodded respectfully. "The princess truly takes after Her Majesty."
And it was true. Not just in appearance. But in spirit. In the way she brought life into every corner she touched. In the way her presence alone could lift the weight of an entire palace. "If only the world wasn’t so cruel..." Cobra murmured. The smile on his face faltered—just slightly. "She would have had her mother by her side... watching her grow."
For a moment, silence settled between them. Heavy. Unspoken. But then— Cobra exhaled slowly, shaking his head as if casting aside the shadow of that thought. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. Stronger. Sharpened. The voice of a king.
"Have our scholars confirmed the authenticity of the Poneglyph information printed in that newspaper?"
The shift was immediate. Gone was the grieving husband. In his place stood the ruler of Alabasta. The world had begun to tremble. And Cobra knew exactly what that meant for a kingdom like his. The Nefertari family was not like the others. They were one of the original twenty. The founders of the World Government.
And yet they had remained. Refused ascension. Chose to stay among the people. That decision, once a symbol of honor... Could now become a liability. Because the more the world learned... the more desperate it would become.
And desperation always led to one thing—discovery. And if the truth hidden beneath Alabasta were ever exposed... It wouldn’t just threaten the kingdom. It would endanger her. And that was something Cobra would never allow.
"Nothing concrete yet, Your Majesty," Igaram replied, his tone grave. "The fragments we deciphered from the published text have only allowed us to translate a few scattered portions of the Poneglyph within the royal crypt."
Cobra’s gaze darkened slightly. Igaram was no ordinary retainer. He was the only man outside the royal bloodline entrusted with their deepest secret—the Poneglyph hidden beneath the royal mausoleum. A truth buried for centuries. Protected at all costs.
"If we had access to more translated Poneglyphs," Igaram continued, "we might be able to fully decipher it." He hesitated briefly before adding, "But Your Majesty... you already know parts of what it contains, do you not?"
Cobra remained silent for a moment. His eyes drifted—not to Igaram—but back to the gardens below. To Vivi. Playing. Laughing. Unaware.
"Only fragments," he said finally. "And even those..." His voice lowered. "...may one day become either our salvation..." A pause. "...or our ruin." The weight of those words lingered heavily.
"Then... will you tell the princess?" Igaram asked carefully, his gaze following the King’s toward the child below. Cobra’s expression softened instantly. The sharpness faded. Replaced by something far more human. Far more fragile.
"...No," he said quietly. Without hesitation. "It’s too early, Igaram." His voice was gentle now. Resolute. "She may be a princess... but she is still a child."
Below, Vivi stumbled slightly, only to burst into laughter as the duckling chirped beside her. Cobra watched her. Really watched her. As if trying to memorize every second.
"I want her to laugh like that for as long as she can," he continued softly. "To run... to play... to live without fear." His hands tightened slightly against the balcony railing. "Without the weight of this world pressing down on her shoulders."
A faint breeze passed through, carrying her laughter upward. "I will carry that burden," Cobra said, his voice firm now, unwavering. "For as long as I am able."
Because he was not just a king. Not just a guardian of ancient secrets. He was a father. And no matter how cruel the world became... No matter how close chaos crept toward his kingdom, he would stand between it and his daughter. Even if it meant facing the storm alone.