The desert announced itself long before it was seen.
The air grew dry, brittle, every breath scraping against Alpha's lungs as if the land itself rejected weakness. The ocean's salt gave way to heat and dust, the horizon blurring into a shimmering veil of gold. When Alpha and Beta crossed the final stretch of rocky terrain and beheld the desert proper, it stretched endlessly—dunes rolling like frozen waves, broken only by the occasional skeletal remains of long-dead ships and travelers who had misjudged Alabasta's cruelty.
Beta hovered slightly higher, sensors straining against the distortion caused by heat.
"Environmental hazard confirmed. Temperature variance exceeding optimal human tolerance. Sandstorm probability within six hours: 61.8%."
Alpha exhaled slowly, tightening the cloth around his face. "A land that kills without swinging a blade," he murmured. "Good. Honest danger."
The desert wind whispered across the dunes, carrying faint traces of life—movement beneath the sand, distant footsteps, intent layered beneath silence. Alpha's Haki stretched outward, not aggressively, but attentively. The desert responded in kind, revealing fragments of emotion and hostility buried beneath survival instincts.
They moved at a controlled pace. Too fast and exhaustion would claim them. Too slow and exposure would.
Hours passed.
The sun climbed higher, merciless and unmoving, turning the world into a furnace. Alpha felt sweat trace down his spine, but his breathing remained even. Every step was deliberate, conserving energy, calculating distance, tracking shadow angles.
Then Beta froze mid-air.
"Anomaly detected. Heat signature cluster approaching from southwest. Humanoid. Four entities. Emotional readings: deceptive intent, elevated aggression."
Alpha stopped without hesitation. "Bandits."
The figures emerged gradually from the haze—robes wrapped tight, faces half-hidden, moving with the confidence of those who knew the desert well. One raised a hand in greeting, posture relaxed, friendly even.
"Travelers!" the man called out, voice smooth as oiled silk. "You'll die out here without guidance. The desert doesn't forgive ignorance."
Alpha tilted his head slightly, studying them. Their footsteps were too light. Their eyes too sharp. Weapons concealed, not absent.
"Is that concern," Alpha asked calmly, "or opportunity?"
The man chuckled. "In Alabasta, those two are often the same."
Another stepped forward, smiling. "We can guide you to Alubarna. Safe routes. Water sources. For a price, of course."
Beta drifted closer to Alpha's shoulder, optics locked.
"Behavioral analysis: false altruism. Ambush probability: 92.4%."
Alpha smiled faintly beneath his scarf. "We accept," he said simply.
The bandits exchanged quick glances—surprise flickering across their faces. They hadn't expected compliance.
"Smart choice," the leader said, gesturing west. "Stay close. Sandstorms erase the careless."
They walked.
The desert changed as they moved—dunes shifting, wind patterns altering subtly. Alpha watched everything: the way the bandits avoided certain patches of sand, how they slowed when approaching rock formations, how their formation gradually widened.
They think I'm prey, Alpha thought. Good.
After an hour, the leader raised a fist. "We stop here. Rest. Water."
The moment they halted, Alpha felt it—the spike of intent, sharp and sudden. Blades slid from robes. The smiles vanished.
"Hand over the spear," one snarled. "And anything else valuable."
Alpha didn't move.
Beta's servos hummed softly.
"You chose poorly," Alpha said quietly.
The sand erupted.
Alpha stepped forward, spear spinning as Haki surged—not explosively, but with suffocating pressure. One bandit lunged and was swept off his feet, momentum redirected into the sand where he lay gasping. Another attempted to flank—Beta intercepted mid-stride, mechanical limb striking the knee joint with precise force, dropping him instantly.
The leader drew a curved blade, eyes wide now with fear. "You—!"
Alpha closed the distance in a single step. The spear's haft struck the man's wrist, disarming him. A follow-up sweep took his legs out from under him.
The fight ended in seconds.
The bandits lay scattered, breathing, broken but alive.
Alpha looked down at them. "The desert doesn't forgive ignorance," he echoed. "But it rewards observation."
Beta scanned their bodies. "Threat neutralized. No further hostiles detected."
Alpha turned west. "Alubarna is that way."
They left the bandits behind, buried in their own miscalculations.
The sandstorm came at dusk.
It rose like a living wall, swallowing the horizon, howling with rage. Visibility dropped to nothing. Wind screamed, sand cutting like blades. Alpha anchored himself, spear driven into the ground, cloak wrapped tight. Beta repositioned, projecting a stabilized field around them, compensating for wind vectors.
"Maintain proximity," Beta instructed.
Alpha nodded, teeth clenched as the storm battered them. Minutes stretched into an eternity. When it finally passed, the desert lay transformed—dunes reshaped, tracks erased, the world reborn hostile and silent.
And then, in the distance—
Walls.
Massive, sun-bleached stone rising from the sand. Towers gleaming faintly under the dying sun. Banners snapping in the wind.
Alubarna.
The capital of Alabasta stood defiant against the desert, alive with movement, guarded, unyielding.
Alpha felt it then—the weight of history, power, and conflict converging. This was not just another island. This was a crossroads.
Beta hovered beside him.
"Capital city reached. Political complexity: extreme. Marine presence probable. Baroque Works influence: high."
Alpha stared at the city, eyes sharp. "Good. That means information flows here. Power too."
As they approached the gates, guards straightened, hands on weapons. The desert behind them swallowed their tracks, but not their presence.
Alpha stepped forward, spear visible but unthreatening.
"We're travelers," he said calmly. "And we've crossed hell to get here."
The gates of Alubarna loomed open, and with them, the next stage of the Grand Line unfolded—one of politics, deception, war, and legends waiting to be forged.
And somewhere within those walls, fate was already moving.