The rooftop that was once a stage for a world-shattering confrontation, had become an impromptu gathering place.
The air still hummed with residual energy, a mix of Bartolomeo's barriers, the dry, dusty scent of defeated sand, and the clean, sharp smell of seawater that clung to Ragnar.
Morgans was in his element, his massive frame practically vibrating as he fired questions at the Vortex Pirates, his taloned hand scribbling notes at a feverish pace.
"And you, Pirate Hunter! The cut on Mr. 1! A breakthrough in your swordsmanship, yes? The breath of all things! Tell me, what did it feel like to cut steel?" he boomed at Zoro.
"Felt like cutting a man. Just… harder." Zoro said as he crossed his arms.
"Succinct! Brutal! Perfect!" Morgans cackled, scribbling furiously.
He turned to Nami and Nojiko.
"And the climatology! Using localized weather patterns to disorient and defeat a Devil Fruit user! A new form of tactical warfare!"
Before they could answer, a new sound began to rise from the streets below, a dense, rhythmic thunder of footsteps, growing steadily louder.
It was not the chaotic stampede of a panicked mob, but the organized, purposeful march of many people moving as one.
The crew tensed, hands instinctively going to weapons, but Ragnar simply raised a calming hand, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.
Over the edge of the rooftop, a procession came into view, flooding the wide boulevard that led to Rain Dinners. At its head was Princess Vivi, her blue hair whipping in the evening breeze, her face alight with a joy so profound it seemed to radiate from her very core.
No longer was she the disguised agent Miss Wednesday, or the desperate princess fighting a shadow war. This was Vivi, heir to the throne of Alabasta, triumphant.
And behind her, walking with the solemn dignity of a monarch who has borne the weight of his kingdom's suffering, was King Cobra himself.
His regal robes were dusty from the journey, his face etched with the lines of years of hidden anguish, but his head was held high.
Flanking them were rows of the Royal Guard and Alabasta soldiers, their armor gleaming in the torchlight, their expressions a mixture of awe, gratitude, and grim satisfaction.
The procession halted at the base of the building. Vivi looked up, her eyes immediately finding Ragnar's crew, and she waved, a brilliant, relieved smile breaking across her face. Then, with a grace born of a lifetime of duty, she stepped slightly aside.
King Cobra took a step forward. He did not call out. He did not demand an audience. Instead, he placed his fist over his heart and then, to the stunned silence of everyone watching except Ragnar, he bowed.
It was not a slight nod of the head, but a deep, formal, and profoundly solemn bow from the waist, holding the position in a gesture of ultimate respect and gratitude.
A ripple of shock went through the assembled soldiers. They had seen the battle. Through the live Den Den Mushi broadcast Morgans had so cleverly set up, they had witnessed the Sea Scourge, a pirate, dismantle the man they had once hailed as their hero.
They had heard Princess Vivi's subsequent, tearful but clear transmission, exposing every one of Crocodile's lies, his manipulation of the dance powder, his plot to plunge their nation into civil war.
They knew this pirate and his crew were the reason their kingdom still stood. But to see their king, a man descended from twenty generations of monarchs, bow so deeply to a wanted criminal… it was a sight that challenged centuries of tradition.
Yet, not a single soldier spoke a word of dissent. The truth was too raw, the salvation too recent. One by one, beginning with the captains and spreading through the ranks like a wave, the soldiers followed their king's lead.
The sound of hundreds of armored figures bowing in unison was a soft, metallic rustle that was more powerful than any battle cry.
Ragnar watched the display, his expression unreadable. He made no move to stop it, to tell them to rise. He understood the language of power and debt.
He let the moment hang, let the weight of their gratitude settle fully upon the rooftop, before he finally spoke, his voice calm and carrying.
"Rise, King Cobra. Your thanks are accepted."
The king straightened, his eyes meeting Ragnar's. They were the eyes of a man who had stared into the abyss and had been pulled back at the last possible second.
"Words cannot express the debt Alabasta owes you, Mr. Ragnar. You have saved my family and my kingdom from a fate worse than death."
"The debt is settled by the removal of a nuisance," Ragnar replied dismissively, though his words held no malice. "However, I do have a favor to ask of you."
"Name it. If it is within my power, it is yours." Cobra did not hesitate to promise.
Ragnar gestured around the ruined rooftop. "Not here. The air is still tainted with that fool's failure. Let us adjourn to your palace. We can speak there, though if you can tie up this fool and bring him with us."
"Of course." King Cobra turned, issuing quiet orders to take Crocodile, and as soon as it was done. The soldiers formed up into an honor guard, creating a path through the now-gathering citizens who had emerged from their homes, their faces full of wonder and confusion.
Vivi quickly ascended the stairs to the rooftop, immediately rushing to hug Nami and Nojiko, her composure breaking for a moment into tears of sheer relief.
The journey to the royal palace was a surreal parade. They moved through the streets of Alubarna, which were slowly coming back to life. People lined the route, not cheering, but watching in a hushed, reverent silence.
They saw their king and princess walking alongside the infamous pirates who had been broadcast across the country. They saw the Sea Scourge himself, his golden eyes taking in the city with a detached, almost bored curiosity, as if saving a nation was a trivial afternoon's work.
The palace itself was a breathtaking structure of white stone and graceful spires, a testament to Alabasta's long and proud history. Inside, the opulence was understated and ancient, a far cry from Crocodile's garish casino.
Servants in silent, efficient movements guided them through cool, marbled halls adorned with tapestries depicting the lineage of Nefertari kings.
Once in a grand receiving chamber, Ragnar turned to Morgans. "A private room. For our… interview, as for the favor, I will tell you later."
King Cobra, who had been speaking quietly with Vivi, overheard and immediately nodded to a nearby steward.
"Provide our guests with the Sun Chamber. Ensure they are not disturbed."
The servant bowed low and gestured for Ragnar and Morgans to follow. The rest of the crew remained in the larger hall, where other servants were already bringing trays of food and drink, the tension of battle finally giving way to the weary comfort of safety.
The Sun Chamber was a lavish study, its walls lined with books and historical scrolls, a large, intricately carved desk sitting before a window that offered a stunning view of the city and the desert beyond.
The moment the heavy oak door closed behind them, Morgan let out an explosive breath, his professional excitement returning in full force.
"KAHAHAHA! The drama! The symbolism! The king bowed to the pirate savior! It's pure gold!" He practically threw himself into a chair, his notepad ready.
"Now, Ragnar. Let's begin. The World Government will be spinning this as a catastrophe. I intend to spin it as a revolution. Help me paint the masterpiece."
Ragnar took the seat opposite him, steepling his fingers. The casual, almost lazy demeanor he had displayed on the rooftop was gone, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity.
The interview was not a mere formality, it was the next move in his game.
"Ask your questions, Morgans," Ragnar said, a smile gracing his lips. "Let's give the world a story it will never forget."
….
Back in the main hall, the crew relaxed, the adrenaline crash finally setting in. Zoro found a corner and was already asleep leaning against a pillar. Kuro was quietly examining the architectural details of the room with keen interest.
Bartolomeo was bragging to a captive audience of bewildered guards about the Captain's divine power. Robin, Nami, Nojiko, and Vivi were huddled together, speaking in hushed, relieved tones.
But Isabella stood slightly apart, near a tall window, her gaze distant. She gently touched the spot over her heart where the horrific wound had been.
The memory of Ragnar's touch, the surge of impossible power that had mended her flesh in seconds, was burned into her being.
Although Ragnar had told her the benefits of becoming an angel, she was still scared when she was sneak-attacked and pierced through the heart.
'It seems I have to thank the Captain later.' Isabella thought as she licked her lips.
The crew's awe was a palpable thing, a new layer of devotion and mystery woven into the fabric of their loyalty.
They had followed a powerful captain into battle, but they were now serving something far more, and they all knew it. The conversation to come would change everything.