Reincarnated in the world of One Piece

The air around the battlefield was thick with the stench of blood, the earth trembling from the sheer ferocity of the combat. Crocodile stood battered, his body drenched in sweat and blood, his normally unshakable composure now crumbling under the relentless assault. His sand powers, once so mighty, seemed to falter with every strike, and his will was beginning to crack under the intensity of the onslaught from Nixon, Guzen, Laffitte, and Enel.

Crocodile's heart pounded in his chest as he wiped a trail of blood from his mouth, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of rage and disbelief. "How can they be so strong?!" he hissed, the words laced with a venomous disbelief. "Especially them—Nixon, Guzen, even that damned Laffitte! They should be nothing more than insects compared to me!"

The realization gnawed at him. They were from the West Blue... just mere rookies not long ago. Yet here they were, far more dangerous than he could ever have imagined. And it was the speed, the overwhelming power, the precise brutality in their strikes. Guzen's unrelenting pace, Laffitte's eerie calm, Nixon's icy ruthlessness, and Enel's god-like lightning—all of it combined to push Crocodile into a corner he never thought possible.

His body had already endured unthinkable pain, but the relentless assault from Laffitte, Guzen, Nixon, and Enel was only escalating. There was no mercy, no respite. His body was torn and broken, blood pouring from countless wounds, yet his defiance remained. He would not be defeated by these mortals. Not so easily.

Laffitte's mocking laughter echoed around him, his voice distorted by the eerie hum of the air around him, as though his very presence warped the surroundings. His cane gleamed wickedly in the blood-soaked daylight, trailing faint wisps of black mist in its wake. Crocodile's chest heaved with every breath—ragged, shallow. His body was exhausted, but his pride refused to break. The cane came crashing down across his ribs, and Crocodile's breath was forced from his lungs with a sickening crunch.

As the blow landed, a shockwave radiated outward, sending ripples through the earth beneath them. The ground cracked and split in response, dust and debris scattering into the air like confetti.

"You bastard," Laffitte sneered, grinning like a predator cornering its prey. "You were so confident, so untouchable. But now? You're just a joke."

Crocodile barely had time to react as Laffitte vanished into the shadows, his movements swift and fluid, his form surrounded by a faint, ghostly shimmer as he manipulated the air. He reappeared just behind Crocodile, the impact of the strike causing a violent thoom sound that shook the battlefield, sending vibrations through the ground. Crocodile's body was hurled to the dirt with a crash, leaving a crater where his form landed.

With a grunt, Crocodile pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with every movement. His body was drenched in sweat, his vision swimming in and out of focus, but still he fought, still he tried to push through the pain. But he could feel the energy draining from him—his aura dimming. A faint red glow flickered weakly from his body, the remnants of his past power.

"You dare mock me?" Crocodile spat, blood staining his lips, the raw anger in his eyes flickering like a dying ember.

Guzen's laugh filled the air like a twisted symphony, a haunting sound that seemed to echo from all directions at once. Swish, swish—the sound of his sword cutting through the air was sharp and precise, and his presence flickered in and out, like a mirage. Each movement was accompanied by a soft whoosh, like the wind rushing through a crack in the earth. The air hummed with energy as he disappeared, reappearing in an instant. His blade slashed through the air in a precise, deadly arc. The cut was deep, blood spurting from the fresh wound in Crocodile's side.

The moment the blade connected, there was an explosion of light—a bright, blinding flash as the sword's edge met flesh. It left behind a trail of glowing particles, like embers floating in the air, before they vanished into the night. Crocodile stumbled back, gasping, the wound in his side gushing blood.

"Is this really what the Desert King can do?" Guzen mocked, a cruel smile on his lips. He vanished again, and before Crocodile could recover, he reappeared on the other side, delivering another slash. Crocodile's legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, clutching at his side. His vision blurred, the world around him dimming, but still he fought. Still he tried to push through the pain. His mind was swimming in a sea of agony, yet he couldn't allow himself to fall here. Not now. Not in front of them.

"You dare mock me?" Crocodile growled again, his voice more strained, his body shuddering.

Nixon stepped forward, his eyes gleaming coldly, almost frosted, like a pair of windows covered in ice. He raised his hand, and the temperature around them began to drop. The air shimmered with the intense cold as he summoned massive ice pillars that shot up from the ground like titans, their jagged peaks glistening with a cold, blue light. A low hum vibrated through the battlefield as the ice formed, the air distorting with the extreme temperatures. Nixon's voice rang out like the cold wind before a storm.

"You're not the only one who controls the elements," Nixon said coolly, his breath visible in the freezing air, every word crystal-clear in the silence.

With a motion of his hand, Nixon sent one of the ice pillars hurtling towards Crocodile. The massive shard struck with a thunderous crack, embedding itself deep into Crocodile's shoulder. Blood and ice shattered across the battlefield in an explosion of gore, spraying outward like a violent burst of red mist. Crocodile screamed in pain, his body spasming as the cold seemed to seep into his very bones, paralyzing him momentarily.

As Nixon raised his hand again, the ice pillars groaned with a deep creaking sound, like a frozen world being torn apart. They shifted and moved, aiming directly at Crocodile, each one seeming to pulse with a cold, murderous intent. Nixon's aura flared, a deadly, icy glow wrapping around his body like a storm cloud ready to strike.

"You're just a ragdoll to us," Nixon said softly, almost pityingly, but his eyes were as cold as the ice he wielded.

With every attack, Crocodile's strength was fading, his body unable to keep up with the barrage of merciless blows. His mind raced. Was this how it would end?

Enel appeared next, his presence like a divine storm. The air crackled with electric tension as his voice rang out like thunder, his tone filled with godly arrogance, as if the entire atmosphere responded to his every command. A soft hum of energy filled the air as the clouds above began to darken, swirling ominously, reflecting his god complex.

"Bow before me, mortal," he boomed, his eyes glowing with divine, lightning-filled power, radiating an unearthly, almost blinding intensity. The ground trembled beneath them, the atmosphere thickening with energy, every hair on Crocodile's body standing on end.

"Thunder Judgment!" Enel declared, summoning a massive bolt of lightning that tore through the sky with a deafening crack, the sound itself sending shockwaves across the battlefield. The bolt struck straight at Crocodile's chest with a violent blam, the lightning coursing through the warlord's body. The impact turned the ground beneath them to molten glass, shattering into glowing fragments, as electricity crackled and burned through the sand.

The bright flash of lightning filled the battlefield, and the sound of thunder rumbled on for several moments, echoing like the roar of some vengeful god.

"Is this all you can do, Desert King?" Enel sneered, stepping forward like an omnipotent ruler, his god complex on full display. "You truly think you can defy me?"

As Crocodile struggled to rise, the lightning still crackling around his body, Laffitte closed in once more. The air thickened around him, as if the very shadows were drawn to his presence. His cane slashed downward in a flurry of strikes, each one landing with deadly precision—across Crocodile's face, his back, his arms—cutting into him like a blade through paper. The impact of each strike sent violent shockwaves across the battlefield, creating tremors that shook the ground, and Crocodile's body was thrown around like a ragdoll.

As Laffitte struck again, the sound of bone snapping echoed in the air with a sickening crack. The blow left a trail of blood in the air as it landed. The aura surrounding Crocodile flickered briefly—a small flash of defiance before it dimmed once again.

"How can you still be standing?" Laffitte asked, his voice full of disgust. "How can you be a warlord without even knowing the basics of Haki?"

Crocodile's face twisted in pain and fury. "I do not need Haki to crush you," he roared. "I am a god in this desert! I-

But before he could finish, Guzen reappeared, his sword slashing horizontally across Crocodile's chest. The blade cut through flesh and bone alike, the sound of the sword slicing through the air accompanied by a deafening whoosh. The force of the blow sent Crocodile flying backward, crashing through a nearby rock formation. The impact of his body against the rocks reverberated like a thunderclap, and the rocks shattered into pieces, creating a small avalanche of rubble. Blood sprayed from Crocodile's mouth as he staggered to his feet, his eyes wild with rage.

"This is what it means to be a warlord, you weakling," Guzen sneered, his figure shimmering in and out as he faded into the shadows, only to reappear at Crocodile's side again.

"This is the cost of being a god in your own mind."

As Crocodile rose, Nixon's ice pillars closed in again, smashing into the warlord like titans of frost. One after another, they crashed down upon him with terrifying force, sending shockwaves through the earth. Each strike embedded itself deeper into his body. Blood sprayed from his mouth with each hit, a cascade of gore filling the air, and the crunch of frozen flesh echoed with every impact. His body was growing weaker, his movements slower, more erratic. But still, he fought. Still, he struggled to stand.

Sound of Pharaoh's Wrath! Crocodile screamed, his voice filled with the raw power of desperation. His ultimate attack—his final stand—was unleashed with devastating force. A massive storm of sand rose up around him, swirling violently, the desert itself answering his call. The winds howled like a thousand voices in agony, the very earth beneath him shaking as the storm raged. The sky darkened as the sandstorm grew in strength, whipping and tearing through the air in chaotic fury.

But this time, Nixon was ready. His ice pillars surged forward, shattering the sandstorm in an explosive collision of elemental forces. The sound of cracking ice and collapsing sand rang out, an almost deafening roar as Crocodile's own attack turned against him. The ice shattered through the storm, and the force of it sent shockwaves across the battlefield, crushing Crocodile beneath its weight.

"You are nothing compared to me mortal! "FOR I AM god!" "God's Wrath"

Enel shouted looking down at the soon dead warlord with disdain, his eyes glowing with divine arrogance., summoning mutiple bolts of lightning that onl darken the entire sky stripped it of the very esenence of light but also ripped through the air snakes like with cracks that felt like the sky itself was splitting in two. The lightning bolts descended like a horde of vicious wild beasts and struck down with godly might.

"BOOOM"

Both elements collided creating a loud deafening sound, like to world open and both god and man was fighting fiercely with their very soul. So the world was divided by the onslaught of thunder and the carnage of sand, when both spread out bodies of dead soldiers swired up in the air muktiple parts of the broken battlehships were smashed all about and around. The earth beneath cracked and sank changing the very land structure all around them which also caused the mountians, hills etc to crumble and fall like their life esssence was drained from them because of this. Destruction and havoc permeated around as both the thunder snake and sand of death slipped out to the suurounding area.

But right in the center of all of this the final blow came from Guzen. As Crocodile struggled to stand, his strength depleted, his body battered and bloodied, Guzen vanished one last time, his presence flickering like a shadow in the dying light. The sound of his blade slicing through the air was almost imperceptible, but the effect was immediate.

In a fluid motion, his sword slashed down across Crocodile's throat in one clean stroke. The air around them seemed to freeze for a moment, the sound of the blade's arc ringing out with an eerie silence, followed by the sickening thud of Crocodile's head falling to the ground. Blood erupted from his neck, splattering onto the sand in a grotesque spray that seemed to stain the very earth beneath him.

Crocodile staggered back, blood staining his once-pristine cloak, the weight of his injuries slowing his movements. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—burned with a furious, desperate rage.

How can this be happening? he thought, his mind racing as he tried to steady himself. How can I—Crocodile—the Desert King, a Warlord of the Sea—be defeated at the hands of them?

He felt the sting of humiliation creeping in, a burning question clawing at his very identity. I haven't even been able to find the ancient weapon, let alone wield its might… The thought echoed like a mocking whisper, a painful reminder of the power he had sought for so long, and yet never attained. If I had the ancient weapon, no one would dare oppose me...

The sandstorm he had summoned now raged uselessly around him, the raw power of his abilities faltering under the onslaught of ice, lightning, and brutal strikes. I should have crushed them by now. I should have been untouchable.His body followed in a twisted, slow collapse, collapsing into the sand with a heavy, final crunch.

The battlefield was eerily silent after the final blow, save for the faint hum of crackling electricity and the distant sound of wind howling through the desert. The ground beneath them trembled slightly, as though even the earth itself mourned the fall of the Desert King. Crocodile's body lay sprawled in the sand, blood pooling around him, a lifeless corpse surrounded by shattered rock, twisted ice, and the smoldering remnants of his own sandstorm.

As Crocodile's life faded, Motoa's voice coughed in the distance, then said: "Checkmate."

The moment he spoke those words, the scene changed. The winds stilled. The violence of the battle paused. Crocodile's final, tortured breath left his body. 

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, like the final judgement, the verdict. The complete banishment declared out for the offender. Motoa's voice was soft, almost pained as he coughed into his hand, wiping away the blood from his lips. "Captain… this is another lost game for you."

Joshua, his gaze fixed on the battlefield, did not respond immediately. He simply reached for his tea, sipping it slowly as though nothing more than the usual. But his expression was unreadable, his focus unwavering. This fight had long been decided—like a game of chess, where each piece had its role, and the board had been set long before the final blow.