Night fell over Alubarna like a held breath.
The capital glowed beneath lantern light, but tension crawled through the streets, invisible and sharp. Somewhere between the palace walls and the outer districts, something moved—quiet, deliberate, lethal.
Alpha felt it before it appeared.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Killing intent.
His Observation Haki snapped outward like a drawn wire. The world slowed—not visually, but conceptually. Intent sharpened into edges, movement condensed into inevitability.
"Beta," Alpha said calmly, not turning. "Hostile. High-grade."
Beta's optics narrowed, internal systems spiking.
"Confirmed. Threat profile: extreme. Structural density abnormal. Probability of bladed body augmentation: 97.2%."
The street lights flickered.
Then the man stepped out of the shadow.
Tall. Broad. Expressionless.
Metal scraped softly against stone as his arms shifted—not drawing weapons, but becoming them.
"Mr.1," Alpha said, spear lowering a fraction.
Daz Bonez tilted his head slightly. "So you're the shadow making noise in the capital." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Crocodile-sama wants you removed."
Steel sang.
Mr.1 vanished forward.
The clash detonated.
Alpha barely twisted aside as a blade-arm cleaved through the space where his head had been, slicing clean through stone and lantern alike. The impact sent fragments screaming into the night.
Alpha's spear snapped up, haft ringing as it collided with hardened steel. The force shuddered through his arms—dense, heavier than anything he'd faced before.
This isn't normal metal, Alpha realized instantly. This is will-hardened.
Mr.1 pressed forward relentlessly, arms reshaping into whirling edges, each strike precise, mechanical, optimized for killing. Streets became a storm of sparks as steel met iron-reinforced muscle and Haki-guided defense.
"You're fast," Mr.1 admitted, slashing downward with guillotine intent. "But steel does not bleed."
Alpha ducked under the strike, pivoted, and thrust.
The spear didn't pierce.
It bit—then skidded.
Alpha's eyes sharpened. "Then let's see how much pressure it takes to make you crack."
Haki surged—not explosively, but compressed, layered into the spear's tip like a coiled spring.
He struck again.
This time, the impact boomed.
Mr.1 skidded backward, boots carving furrows through stone. His eyes flickered—surprise, brief but real.
Beta moved.
The drone launched upward, then dove, limbs reconfiguring mid-flight. Blades rang as Mr.1 deflected instinctively—but that half-second mattered.
Alpha was already there.
He slid inside Mr.1's reach, spear rotating, haft smashing into the ribs—not to break, but to disrupt balance. The follow-up thrust came from below, angled, Haki flaring at the instant of contact.
CRACK.
Steel fractured.
Not shattered—but split.
Mr.1's chest plate split open, a jagged fissure tearing across hardened metal. Blood sprayed—dark, shocking, real.
For the first time, Mr.1 staggered.
"…Impossible," he muttered.
Alpha didn't relent.
His thoughts were razor-clear.
Steel adapts. Then it breaks where it resists least.
He shifted stance, spear flowing, strikes hammering the same damaged point again and again. Each hit sent vibrations rippling through Mr.1's body, compounding damage.
Mr.1 roared and countered—steel arms expanding, forming a storm of blades.
The street exploded.
Buildings were carved open. Stone shredded. Beta intercepted debris mid-air, shields flaring, protecting Alpha's blind spots while calculating strike windows.
System Update:
Enemy Structural Integrity: Compromised
Haki Penetration Efficiency: +18%
Combat Risk: Critical
Alpha felt it too.
This fight was dangerous.
One mistake and he would be bisected.
Mr.1 lunged, spinning, transforming into a living execution wheel.
Alpha met him head-on.
Spear and steel collided—
—and Alpha forced his Haki inward, compressing it at the exact instant of impact.
The spear punched through the fracture.
Deep.
Mr.1 screamed.
Blood splattered the sand-coated stones as Alpha ripped the spear free and followed with a sweeping kick that sent the assassin crashing through a wall.
Before Alpha could finish it—
Explosions.
The air filled with smoke, wires snapping, sand erupting upward.
"Fall back!" a voice barked.
Mr.2's laughter echoed. "Ohoho! You're not dying today, Daz!"
Mr.4's massive silhouette loomed through the dust, bazooka-dog snarling. Miss Doublefinger moved like a shadow, spikes bristling, eyes locked on Alpha.
Beta immediately repositioned.
"Multiple hostile reinforcements detected. Tactical withdrawal probability for primary target: rising."
Mr.1 dragged himself upright, chest still bleeding, eyes burning with fury.
"This isn't over," he said coldly.
Alpha met his gaze, unflinching. "Run," he replied. "You'll remember this every time steel bends."
Smoke detonated again.
When it cleared—
They were gone.
Alpha stood alone amid ruin, chest rising and falling, blood trickling from a shallow cut along his shoulder.
Beta hovered close, scanning him rapidly.
"Damage assessment: moderate. Enemy Mr.1—grievously wounded but alive."
Alpha exhaled slowly. "Good. Let Crocodile hear about it."
Far beneath the capital—
Crocodile crushed his cigar.
"Mr.1," he murmured, eyes dark with interest. "Wounded."
A smile crept across his face.
"So the shadow cuts steel."
His gaze turned toward a map of Alabasta.
"Fine," he said softly. "I'll remove him myself."
At the harbor—
A familiar ship docked.
Straw hats fluttered.
Monkey D. Luffy leapt onto the sand, grinning. "So this is Alabasta!"
The game board was complete.
And Alpha stood at its center—bloodied, proven, and now marked for elimination by a Shichibukai.