The sun blazed high above a horizon of gold.
The desert of Alabasta rolled endlessly before them—vast dunes rising and falling like waves in a frozen ocean. Camels plodded forward in rhythm, their hooves kicking up plumes of fine dust that shimmered like glass in the midair heat. Every rise of the terrain offered the illusion of an end. Every crest, just more sun-scorched emptiness.
Each Straw Hat rode in silence for a time, beads of sweat clinging to their faces despite scarves and veils. The wind carried no moisture—only grit, heat, and the distant murmur of sand shifting.
"I see the light," Usopp groaned from his saddle, draped dramatically over the neck of his camel. "This is it. Tell my story. Say I was brave."
"You've been groaning since the last dune," Zoro muttered, squinting at the horizon.
Sanji wiped sweat from his temple. "It's like traveling through a furnace… with a comedian tied to the front."
"I hallucinated a breeze just now," Usopp whispered. "It kissed me goodbye."
Behind them, Nami adjusted the cloth shielding her face and scanned the skyline again. The dunes shimmered. The sky darkened ever so slightly to the south.
"The pressure's shifting," she said. "A sandstorm could be forming. We should stay moving, fast."
Vivi nodded. "We're heading for Yuba. It's the last place I know where the rebels may be. My father trusted Toto. If he's still alive…"
Her words drifted off. In her mind, a memory flashed—a gentle old man with a shovel, digging through cracked earth, laughing despite the thirst. Her fingers tightened on the reins.
Luffy rode just ahead. His posture was still, his focus precise. Beneath him, a shadow pulsed across the saddle—its tendrils scanning the terrain with faint flickers, like it sensed the heat and distance in waves.
[SYSTEM STATUS: STABLE. NO HOSTILE SIGNS DETECTED. ENVIRONMENTAL TEMPERATURE: 47°C]
He blinked slowly.
The system was calm.
But the desert was too quiet.
As they climbed another slope, the camels huffed, sand slipping from beneath their hooves. From the top, a breeze passed them, strong and sudden.
Below—what remained of a town.
Erumalu.
A city swallowed by time.
The buildings were skeletons—arches half-buried, doorways filled with dunes, homes crumbling into themselves like sandcastles abandoned to the tide. A broken tower leaned against a cracked pillar. Flags once bright with color now flapped in faded tatters.
Vivi's voice was soft. "This… used to be alive."
They dismounted.
As they entered the town on foot, the sand beneath their boots made no sound. The silence here was deeper—thicker. Nami touched a wall where a child's handprint had once been painted in blue. It had faded to white.
A bell hung from a ruined stall. It jingled as a gust passed.
Sanji crouched by what used to be a vendor's stand, brushing away dust. "Not a drop of water anywhere."
Usopp stood near a broken fountain. "This was the oasis?"
Luffy knelt beside it. His palm rested on the dry stone. Cracks ran through every tile. The basin was caked with hardened mud and dust.
Vivi stepped to the edge and knelt. She ran her fingers along the carving of a lotus flower chiseled into the base.
"My father planted trees here," she said. "Toto watered them every morning. Children used to play in this square."
No one interrupted.
The sound of Zoro's breath was all that marked the moment.
Nami exhaled. "We should keep moving."
Vivi nodded, standing upright. "We reach Yuba by dusk."
The group remounted, the mood heavier now. No one joked. No one looked back.
Behind them, the ruins of Erumalu stood silent, the wind its only visitor.
But far behind—shadows watched.
Among a cluster of jagged rocks half-buried in the dunes, three cloaked figures crouched. Their faces were covered by sand cloths. One adjusted the lens of a strange Den Den Mushi—its eye glowing faintly, its mechanical shell whirring as it tracked movement on the far ridge.
"They've passed Erumalu," he muttered into a receiver.
Another agent unfolded a map and stabbed a gloved finger on a location. "Then they'll reach Yuba by nightfall."
The third leaned against a rusted scimitar, tapping the hilt rhythmically with one gloved finger.
"Let them sweat," he said, lips curling into a smirk. "We'll greet them with the storm."
[End of Chapter 122]
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