The desert answered Crocodile's presence.
Wind rose without warning, not howling but pressing, grains of sand lifting from the ground as if pulled by an unseen tide. Alubarna's outer districts blurred under a rising veil of gold, moonlight bending and vanishing as the storm thickened.
Alpha felt it immediately.
Not danger—authority.
"This pressure…" he muttered.
Beta drifted closer, internal stabilizers compensating.
"Environmental control detected. Logia-level dominance. Threat classification: Extreme."
Crocodile emerged from the storm like a specter carved from dust, fur coat fluttering, hook gleaming faintly. His presence warped the air, sucking moisture from breath and stone alike.
"So you're the one," Crocodile said lazily. "The shadow who crippled my subordinate."
Alpha stepped forward, spear grounded but relaxed. Armament Haki rested beneath his skin, calm and coiled.
"I didn't cripple him," Alpha replied. "I spared him."
Crocodile laughed.
A dry, mirthless sound. "How noble. How wasteful."
The Straw Hats stood back instinctively. Even Luffy's grin had vanished, eyes sharp with instinctive understanding—this wasn't a fight meant for bystanders.
Zoro muttered, "This guy's on a different level."
Crocodile's gaze slid briefly to them, dismissive. "Leave. This isn't your stage."
Alpha didn't move.
"That," he said quietly, "won't happen."
Sand exploded upward.
Crocodile vanished in a cyclone, reappearing behind Alpha in an instant, hook tearing through the air where Alpha's head had been.
Alpha twisted—not reacting, but predicting—spear snapping upward, Armament flaring.
Metal met sand.
The impact rang hollow.
Crocodile's body dispersed, the spear slicing through grains that reformed instantly behind Alpha.
"Too slow," Crocodile said, voice echoing from everywhere. "You can't strike what you can't touch."
Alpha slid back, boots carving lines through stone as the ground beneath him dried, cracked, and collapsed into sand.
Beta fired a microburst—compressed air and kinetic force—disrupting the sand field momentarily.
"Moisture displacement minimal," Beta reported. "Logia cohesion restored instantly."
Alpha clicked his tongue softly.
So brute force won't work.
Crocodile raised one hand.
The desert obeyed.
A massive sandblade surged forward, tearing through pillars, shredding walls as it raced toward Alpha.
"Move!" Nami shouted.
Alpha didn't retreat.
He planted his foot.
Armament surged—denser than before—coating the spear shaft, then the blade, then his forearms as he swung.
The clash wasn't explosive.
It was grinding.
Sand screamed as compressed Haki tore through it, carving a path—but the pressure shoved Alpha backward, boots skidding, muscles screaming.
For the first time since his rebirth—
Alpha bled.
A thin line down his cheek.
The Straw Hats stared.
Beta's systems spiked violently.
"Structural integrity compromised. Emotional spike detected—anger? Frustration?"
Alpha wiped the blood with his thumb.
And froze.
Not at the wound.
At the feeling.
His heart was racing.
Not calculation. Not threat analysis.
Fear.
And beneath it—
Anger.
Not rage.
Indignation.
"I see," Alpha murmured. "You're not just strong."
Crocodile smiled wider. "I'm inevitable."
He slammed his hook into the ground.
The earth liquefied.
Alpha dropped as the courtyard collapsed into a spiraling sink of sand, dragging him downward. Beta shot upward to avoid being swallowed, thrusters flaring.
"Alpha!" Vivi cried.
Alpha twisted mid-fall, spear stabbing into stone—but the stone turned to sand around it.
He sank.
Darkness closed in.
Pressure mounted.
And then—
Something opened.
Not a system notification.
Not Haki.
Memory.
Not his past life.
Something else.
A designed memory.
A battlefield not of this world—endless, abstract, opponents forming and dissolving. A voice without sound guiding motion.
Grip aligns with intent.
Spear is extension, not tool.
Movement defines outcome.
Alpha's body moved without conscious command.
Not reacting.
Executing.
His grip shifted.
The spear hummed—not with Haki, but with clarity.
Hidden Protocol Unlocked:
Spear Art — Phantom Lancer (Incomplete)
Combat Memory Imprint: Active
Alpha's eyes snapped open.
The sand around him parted.
Not pushed back.
Redirected.
He spun, body flowing in a spiral motion unfamiliar yet natural, spear tracing arcs that guided sand away from his core instead of fighting it.
He burst upward from the collapsing pit like a shadow given form, landing hard, breathing heavy—but standing.
Crocodile's smile faltered.
"Oh?" he murmured. "That's new."
Alpha didn't answer.
He moved.
Not faster.
Sharper.
Each step cut angles through the battlefield, spear strikes no longer aimed at Crocodile—but at the flow of sand itself, disrupting cohesion, forcing reformations that lagged fractions of a second behind intent.
Still not enough.
Crocodile slammed him aside with a sand hammer, ribs screaming as Alpha crashed through a wall.
Pain flared.
Real pain.
But Alpha laughed—breathless, raw.
"So this is it," he coughed. "This is what being alive feels like."
Beta hovered protectively, systems strained.
"Alpha. Damage escalating. Victory probability: declining."
"I know," Alpha replied, standing unsteadily. "But I'm learning."
Crocodile approached slowly now, interest sharpened into something darker.
"You're not ready," he said. "But you will be dangerous."
Sand coiled.
"Which is why you die here."
Before the killing blow fell—
Smoke rolled across the courtyard.
"Enough."
Smoker's voice cut through the storm.
Crocodile clicked his tongue, sand receding. "Tch. How inconvenient."
He dissolved into the storm, voice lingering.
"Grow stronger, shadow. I'll enjoy breaking you later."
Silence followed.
Alpha stood amid ruin, bloodied, breathing hard—but smiling faintly.
Not victorious.
Not defeated.
Awakened.
Beta drifted close.
"Emotional stability compromised. But… growth unprecedented."
Alpha looked at his hands.
At the spear.
At the people watching him.
"I didn't win," he said quietly.
Zoro smirked. "But you didn't fall."
Luffy grinned. "That was awesome."
Alpha closed his eyes.
The desert wind passed over him.
And deep inside—
Something ancient, designed, and human continued to wake.