Reincarnated in the world of One Piece

The sands of the battlefield trembled beneath the oppressive weight of the moment. Above, the darkening sky seemed to hum with tension, as though the heavens themselves were bracing for what was to come. Then, through the swirling dust, he emerged—Joshua.

Crocodile's cold, calculating gaze settled on the figure, his expression not betraying even the slightest hint of concern, but his mind was already working overtime. Joshua? What is he doing here? The thought flickered in his mind, like a shadow that refused to vanish.

.....

The soldiers that had been standing just moments before were now locked in place, their forms solidified by ice, their faces contorted in frozen horror. The Navy battleships, once engines of destruction, were now immobile, their massive structures encased in frost. Even the very air itself shimmered with cold, the silence deafening.

The rear admirals, still watching in stunned disbelief, were silent for a moment. The disbelief on their faces was palpable.

"Impossible," one of the rear admirals muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. "How can this be? He... he was supposed to be fighting the five Vice Admirals!"

Another rear admiral stepped forward, his hand clenched around his weapon, his voice tinged with anxiety. "No! This can't be happening! How could the Vice Admirals lose to him? How could they fall to... to this man? He's not even supposed to be here!"

The soldiers in the back were equally horrified, their faces a mixture of confusion, terror, and disbelief. "What... What's going on? Why is Chaos here? Isn't he supposed to be with the Vice Admirals?"

"How can justice fall into the hands of someone like him?!" a younger soldier shouted, his voice trembling.

"This can't be real… the Vice Admirals... they can't lose...!" another soldier whispered, his hands shaking as he looked around at the frozen landscape.

The panic spread like wildfire among the soldiers, and for a moment, the battlefield seemed to tremble with the weight of their collective fear. 

It was impossible. Joshua wasn't supposed to be here. He had already dealt with the Navy—obliterated the five Vice Admirals. Crocodile's thoughts began to race. Did he really destroy them? No… that can't be right… He didn't let his unease show on his face. No, that wasn't his way. He was Crocodile, and he would not allow himself to be rattled by anyone.

But even as he stood there, observing Joshua with a detached, almost disinterested expression, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. The atmosphere around them was thick, as though something powerful and unseen was gathering.

Joshua didn't even spare him a glance. The audacity. The sheer arrogance.

Crocodile's gaze followed Joshua as the man's eyes shifted not toward him but to his team—Nixon, Guzen, Matoa, and Enel. It was as if Crocodile didn't even matter. Joshua wasn't focused on the conflict here; his mind was already elsewhere, assessing the situation like an afterthought. Crocodile's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. He needed to act now. He couldn't allow this group to take over the battlefield. He'd always been the one in control, the one who dictated the flow of the fight. But now, with Joshua here and the remaining members gathering, the balance had shifted in ways that made it unfavourable to nim

Crocodile heart sank to the bottom as he saw thought of this, he did not even give it another thought as he dashed off like blasted off rocket. "Damn it" he cursed ." I have to leave now, the situation now is more dire than ever."

And yet, Joshua didn't even acknowledge him. He flicked his hand lazily, and within seconds, the remaining members of his team began to appear—Nixon first, followed by the towering Motoa, the sly and dangerous Laffitte, and finally, the hysterical laugh creeped out of nowehere and then merged the bloodthristy Guzen grinning crazily with blood dripping from his knife and from his clothes and face. They materialized almost out of thin air, as though summoned by the very wind.

Nixon, with his ever-present calm and poise, stepped forward, his silver cane tapping lightly against the sand. His voice, dripping with British charm, broke through the silence.

"Captain, I'm very sorry," Nixon began, his tone so polite it was almost maddening. "It seems I'm a bit too weak to finish these small fry off in one go." He sipped from a cup of tea, as though the entire battlefield were just a casual event.

"Cough... cough... so many of them... this old man feels like he might drop dead any minute now," Motoa wheezed, his frailty undeniable as he struggled to keep his footing in the thick air of the battlefield.

The sound of Laffitte's boots echoing on the cracked earth followed, his eerie smile never leaving his face. He tilted his head slightly, his voice low but mischieveous. "Seems like you've already cleaned up your end of things, Captain."

And then there was Guzen—silent but unmistakably present, his towering figure cutting through the battlefield like a shadow. "Boss, you're done already. "Aww man," I wanted to fight the Vice admirals too." "No fun, " I guess they were too weak that's why they died so fast. He swirled then landed flat on the ground with a sad and depressed expression.

"You've dealt with the small fish already, haven't you? How... disappointing mere insignificant beings took you such a long time to deal. "It it were me, I would have wiped them out with the power of my "god." Enel's said as he shook his head which signified his utter disapproval, distain and disappointment in Joshua.

However Joshua paid no heed to him but nodded to the rest, then turned to look on the battlefield. His eyes scanned the carnage around them. "Yes. I've finished." He paused, then added, his voice almost detached, "But it seems you all are still "busy."

Nixon spoke again, his voice light as he gave a casual shrug. "Don't worry, Captain. I'll finish it." His fingers curled around his silver cane, the air growing colder by the second. "Leave it to me."

The temperature around them began to plummet. A biting chill swept over the battlefield, freezing the soldiers, the sand, the air itself. Everything was encased in an unyielding layer of ice, and the world seemed to slow, as if the very essence of time had frozen in place.

"Freeze," Nixon, at the word, the world seemed to stop moving. The air turned icy as though time itself had frozen. Soldiers, Navy battleships, sand, plants—everything was encased in a thick layer of frost. The world around them became a cold, crystalline wasteland. The sounds of battle ceased entirely, replaced by the cold stillness that hung in the air. Even the sky itself appeared frozen, caught in a moment of suspended animation. The battlefield was transformed into a frozen wasteland.

Joshua's eyes shifted once more, and he glanced at the area Crocodile stood no more, his expression unreadable. "Why hasn't Crocodile been dealt with?" he asked, his voice carrying a weight of dead chillness.

Laffitte, with his characteristic smile, answered for him. "Don't worry, boss. We'll handle it. You've already finished with your work."

Nixon's eyes locked onto Crocodile, his lips curling into a slight, almost amused smirk. "Indeed," he said. "Consider this a courtesy from me."

"Hahahaaa, that's right boss, I' ll also help clean him up seeing as Enel is too weak to handle him." Guzen eyes flasehd with ray of crimson light as he licked the blood from off his knife.

"Cough, cough, this old man will just relax here as these old bones seems like they are about to fail me." "Sigh, for as an old man I should not be ackling up myself as this, its really pressuring." Motoa added as sat on a few navy soldeirs dead body.

"But where is he now"." Laffitte sly voice slipped in the stillness of the air making everyone "aware."

"Huh, wow he was just right here. "Just where did he go." Guzen face lit up with astonishment as he survey the area with his right hand above his eyes trying to look for Crocodile. No one said nothing after Guzen gave that comment but before you knew it several figuers disappered in a flash.

.....

Guzen's grin widened as he prowled closer, his crimson eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "Did you really think you could escape, Crocodile?" he purred, his voice twisted with a dark, inhuman edge. The freezing air seemed to pulse with his presence, the ice around them now creeping even further, responding to his bloodlust.

Before Crocodile could react, Guzen was upon him. The figure surged forward with inhuman speed, a blur of motion that seemed to carve through the very fabric of space. A slash of white light cut across Crocodile's vision, faster than anything he had ever encountered. The edge of Guzen's blade grazed his side, a thin cut forming, but it was enough to send a sharp sting through his body. His heart hammered in his chest as the cold, ghostly presence of his attacker loomed dangerously close. Damn it, not good...

With a curse, Crocodile spun around, his power surging. He called forth the desert, the sand swirling violently around him as he tried to form a defensive wall of shifting dunes. But before he could get his bearings, the ground beneath him cracked open with a deafening roar. Guzen's blade had carved a massive chasm into the earth, a rift wide enough to swallow a battleship whole. Sand and stone fell into the abyss below.

Crocodile was very glommy as this moment. Damn it, its the psychopath...

A cold chuckle echoed above him, and Nixon, appearing like a wraith in the frozen air, descended upon him from the sky. His smile was serene, almost detached, as though he were enjoying a fine cup of tea rather than being in the midst of a deadly battle. "This is your end, Crocodile," he said with his usual poise, flicking his cane with the elegance of an aristocrat.

A sudden gust of frost whipped through the battlefield, and multiple ice needles formed in the air, their tips sharp and deadly. They hovered, waiting, like a thousand needles pointed directly at Crocodile's heart. He barely had time to react before they shot toward him in a deadly volley.

Crocodile twisted his body, narrowly dodging the lethal assault. He could feel the cold bite at his skin, but his instincts kicked in. He raised his hands and summoned more sand to block the attack, the grains hardening into a thick, rocky wall just in time to intercept the incoming needles. The impact reverberated through the earth, but Crocodile's defenses held—barely.

But before he could even recover, a thunderous crack split the air, and the clouds above darkened ominously. The ground rumbled beneath him as Enel appeared, his form radiating a terrifying aura of divine power. His arms raised high, and his eyes glinted with the promise of destruction.

A voice, cold and high, echoed in the stillness. "Aether."

In an instant, the heavens seemed to fall. A massive column of lightning descended from the sky with the intensity of a thousand storms. The force of it struck Crocodile head-on, sending an explosion of light and electricity that tore through the ground. The air crackled with divine energy, and Crocodile's body was wracked with the blinding pain of the strike.

He was thrown back, his body slamming into the ground with a brutal crash. His mind swam with disorientation, but he knew better than to stay down. The lightning had only grazed him, but he could feel the power of it surging through his veins, threatening to overwhelm him.

Before Crocodile could rise, he heard a voice—a voice that reayy disgusted him.

"Mortal," Enel's tone was cold, laced with utter contempt, "You truly believe you can escape from me, the god who is above all?"

Crocodile's gaze flickered upward, and he saw a massive, ethereal bird—its wings crackling with lightning—descend upon him. The Thunderbird, Enel's divine manifestation, swooped down with a cry that sounded like the clash of storms. The air around Crocodile felt charged, as if the very atmosphere had become a weapon, ready to strike him down.

His mind raced, but just as he was about to move, he heard a faint chuckle from the shadows. A dark figure, creeping silently like a predator, emerged from the depths of the battlefield. It was Laffitte, his eyes gleaming with amusement, a dangerous smile curling up at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, Laffitte's here too, Yea," Guzen chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with excitement. "I guess it's time for everyone to join in the fun." His grin widened as he licked his lips, the bloodlust in his eyes unmistakable. "I always wondered what it would feel like to fight a Warlord of the Sea. Now's my chance."

Crocodile's eyes flicked from one opponent to the next. His mind raced—he couldn't outrun this. Perhaps we can negiotiate."

He stood up slowly, his voice steady despite the weight of the situation. "This is a little tricky, isn't it? Maybe we could—"

Nixon's sharp, cold gaze landed on him, and he interrupted, his voice dripping with ice. "Hmm… If this were a different setting, perhaps I might have taken your offer. But this isn't that kind of situation, is it?" His smile was sharp, the air around him growing colder with each passing second.

Enel, standing nearby, spoke with disdain in his voice. "Mortals... You speak as though I need your help to destroy this insignificant insect. I am a god. I do not require the assistance of mongrels."

Crocodile's heart sank. He had known from the moment they'd surrounded him that there would be no way out, but hearing Enel's god complex play out like that filled him with a dread he couldn't shake.

The air was thick with tension, every breath a frozen struggle. The ground trembled beneath Crocodile's feet, as if the very earth recognized the mounting threat surrounding him. It was impossible to escape now.

In a perfect circle around him, the four pirates stood, each with their own aura dominating the scene, cutting through the air with the raw energy of impending destruction.

Nixon, standing just to Crocodile's left, had his silver cane resting lightly in his gloved hand, the lightest flicker of cold emanating from him like a quiet storm. The blue aura that surrounded him wasn't just the chill of winter—it was the presence of a force capable of freezing time itself. The air was sharp, biting, and if Crocodile had even a moment to breathe, the frost would consume him. Nixon's eyes—calm, composed, and disturbingly polite—never left Crocodile's form. A soft smile tugged at his lips, as though the conflict was a mere formality.

Guzen stood opposite Nixon, a wild figure, his crimson aura a stark contrast to the cold precision of his comrades. His eyes were glowing with madness, bloodlust running through his veins like wildfire. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each exhalation a puff of red fury. Crocodile could feel his presence like a predator stalking its prey. The air around Guzen was charged, every movement tinged with violent intent. His fingers twitched near his blade, his bloodstained knife gleaming in the light. He wanted to destroy, to tear apart whatever stood in his way, and Crocodile was at the top of that list.

Above them all, Enel hovered, a towering figure in the sky. His divine aura crackled with power, the sky itself darkening as he raised his arms. The clouds above were thick and menacing, a storm gathering with every second. The faintest traces of lightning danced at his fingertips, arcs of energy crackling and flaring in chaotic bursts. His eyes—golden and unblinking—observed from high above, filled with an arrogance only a god could possess. His very presence made the air feel thick, as though gravity itself had become heavier. Enel wasn't just observing the battle—he was ready to descend upon it like a god delivering his wrath.

And then there was Laffitte, sneaking around Crocodile's blind spot, his figure practically melting into the shadows. His presence was subtle at first, like a whisper in the darkness, but Crocodile could feel it now. The oppressive, unnatural shadow surrounding him. His grin, twisted and eerie, was the last thing Crocodile could focus on before the battle truly began. Laffitte's dark aura pulsed like the blackened remnants of a dying star. He wasn't just a fighter—he was an executioner, a harbinger of doom, a reminder that there was no escape. Laffitte was where the shadows and death merged, an entity of chaos poised to strike.

Crocodile stood in the center, surrounded on all sides. His eyes darted from one foe to the next. The ground beneath his feet was already turning to sand, his powers swirling in desperate defense, but the forces around him were overwhelming. No corner, no angle, was left unguarded. He was trapped—nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The chill from Nixon's aura sent a shiver through him, and he could feel the heat of Guzen's bloodlust rising, his anticipation palpable.

Enel's thunderous presence above, towering with divine wrath, only made the situation worse. It was as though a storm was waiting to unleash its fury at a single command. The very air felt electrified, crackling with dangerous energy. The lightning arcing through the sky was a reminder that, up here, no one was safe. Laffitte's silent movements only made things more unnerving. His figure melted into the shadows, just out of sight, but his presence loomed over Crocodile like a predator ready to strike.

The battle had already begun in the silence of their auras—the pressure mounting, the tension unbearable.

Then, with a sudden shift, everything erupted. The silence shattered with the sound of ice cracking as Nixon took the first step, the ice around him stretching and snapping, his cane pointed directly at Crocodile. Guzen's laughter was a low, mad chuckle, his crimson aura flaring as he lunged forward with the speed of a demon, his eyes glowing with the promise of carnage. Enel's voice boomed like a thunderclap, his hands crackling with divine power, as he prepared to bring the storm down upon Crocodile. And in the shadows, Laffitte was already gone—vanishing into the darkness like the specter he was, his knife eager for blood.

Crocodile was no longer alone. He was surrounded by them, every angle covered, every path to escape blocked. With a final, defiant sneer, he summoned the full might of his sand powers, feeling the weight of their auras pressing down on him, squeezing the life out of the battlefield.

The storm had come—and Crocodile would either stand and fight or be swallowed by it.