I Sell Gacha Jars in One Piece Chapter 193 193: The Pitiful Crocodile

The mont Fujitora drew the blade, the clear sky shifted. The light changed, the air pressure dropped, and then a massive teor tore through the clouds and ca screaming downward.

"Look! Is that a teor?"

"It is! That's actually a teor!"

"Run! Everyone run!"

The people of Rain Base craned their necks upward and ca very close to losing their composure entirely. A chunk of rock the size of a small building was falling directly toward them. The more faint-hearted mbers of the crowd were already fleeing before anyone had ti to say another word.

Fujitora stood completely still beneath it, his Observation Haki stretched wide, his expression one of pure, undisguised astonishnt.

"This weapon actually summons a teor."

He turned it over in his mind, and sothing clicked. The truth was that Fujitora's mastery of his Gravity Fruit had not yet reached the point where he could call down teors through his ability alone. But watching the Shooting Star Blade do exactly that, seeing the chanism of it laid out before him in practice, sothing in his understanding shifted suddenly and sharply into place.

"Go."

He pointed the blade at the falling rock, and in the sa instant his grip on his Gravity Fruit deepened. The teor answered, crashing into the desert ahead of them with a sound that rolled across the sand like a thunderclap. A crater opened in the dunes, deep and wide and still smoking at the edges.

"That is remarkable," Robin said quietly, staring at the impact site with an expression she couldn't quite flatten. No wonder the Jars were worth what they were worth. This was not a reasonable thing to exist.

"Ha ha! Again!"

Fujitora smiled, drew the blade once more, and a second teor descended. Another thunderous impact. Another crater gouged out of the desert floor, sand spraying in every direction.

"Excellent. Very satisfying." He sheathed the blade with a nod of approval. Two draws had already consud a substantial portion of his stamina, but the results were more than enough to tell him everything he needed to know. He was very pleased.

Robin watched the second crater settle and felt sothing quietly turbulent moving through her chest. The Shooting Star Blade had genuinely frightened her.

"GWAHAHAHA! What a weapon! What an extraordinary Jar!"

"To think sothing in a jar could bring rain down on all of Alabasta. These really are sothing else!"

The laughter ca from the swirling sand behind them. A figure stepped out of the desert wind wearing a long black fur coat and holding a cigar between his teeth.

"Crocodile?" Amon said.

"Mr. 0!" Robin said at the sa mont.

The owner of Rain Dinners had arrived.

He had been there longer than any of them realised. The mont Fujitora had overwheld Robin's Fruit ability back in the casino, Crocodile had already appeared in the vicinity, following at a distance, quietly calculating how and when to deal with Amon. What he had witnessed instead had given him a different idea entirely.

His eyes moved across Amon with naked greed.

"Not bad at all. I'll be taking those Jars of yours. With treasures like these, I'll be the strongest man on this sea."

"You want my Jars?"

Amon blinked, and then started laughing. Of all the things Crocodile could have opened with. He raised one hand and curled a finger, beckoning him forward with complete ease.

"Co and try, then."

"You dare." Crocodile's eyes went flat. The fact that this man was standing there smiling at him while effectively inviting his own death apparently required a response. He raised one hand, and a massive Desert Spada tore out across the ground, a roaring cyclone of sand and wind that surged toward Amon at full speed. One of Crocodile's most devastating techniques, and he had thrown it without restraint.

Robin, caught between the two of them, found herself at a sudden loss. She wanted to act, but she didn't know which side to act for. She was Baroque Works. But she had absolutely no desire to move against Amon.

"Do you need a hand?" Fujitora asked from the side, turning toward the commotion with an easy, unhurried smile.

"Ha, no need. That level of force barely registers."

Even as the words left his mouth, Amon reached into the air with one hand. A long blade of condensed sword aura materialised in his grip, silver-white and humming with presence. The mont he took hold of it, the killing intent radiating off him expanded outward, pressing against the surrounding space in every direction, vast and heavy and absolutely relentless. The air itself seed to tremble around it. A quiet, resonant ring passed through the blade, and the sword aura shuddered once in response to the weight of his intent, announcing itself to everything within range.

"That is..." Robin's eyes went wide. She took an involuntary step back. "That sword intent. It's monstrous."

If that had been pointed at her, she was certain she would simply cease to exist.

"Quite sothing," Fujitora murmured, trying and failing to open his sightless eyes wider toward the source of it. He let his Observation Haki do the seeing instead. "No wonder Borsalino lost. Terrifying."

The silver blade ca down in a single clean stroke.

The Desert Spada, which had been consuming everything in its path, was cut apart. The cyclone collapsed into dust and fell across the sand in a wide scatter, spent and harmless.

Before Crocodile could draw breath for a second technique, Amon was already moving. He crossed the distance in a blink and drove his fist directly into Crocodile's chest.

With Armant Haki running through that blow, Crocodile's sand body offered him absolutely nothing in the way of protection. The impact landed clean and the Warlord went airborne, launched backward through the desert air before crashing hard into the ground.

Robin stared. The Baroque Works agents who had been hovering at the edges of the confrontation stared. Every one of them had been handed the sa description of this man. A Jar rchant. An ordinary trader who happened to sell interesting things.

One punch. Their boss was half-conscious on the ground after one punch.

Amon landed lightly, brushed the dust from his sleeve, and looked down at where Crocodile had landed with a mildly satisfied expression.