Chapter 118: Garen's Trump Card

Vivi, having essentially sold herself short, gripped Garen’s hand tightly, refusing to let go, her expression fraught with tension as she awaited his final response.

Robin, who remained at arm’s length from her own employer, looked as relaxed as an outsider, casting an intrigued gaze at the pair.

Crocodile, his plans severely thwarted, hid his grim, scarred face behind a thick cloud of cigar smoke. The room fell so silent that only the faint crackle of burning tobacco leaves could be heard.

Garen finally had his chance to speak. With a firm expression, he delivered the words he had been wanting to say, only to be interrupted time and again:

"Crocodile, give up your delusions!"

"No matter how generous your terms, I will never cooperate with you!"

Hearing Garen’s clear-cut declaration of hostility, Crocodile did not seem the least bit surprised; only the invisible aura of malice surrounding him grew significantly thicker.

Vivi, meanwhile, finally let out a long sigh of relief. The soft, trembling arms she had draped over Garen's as if pleading slowly loosened as her anxiety subsided.

Yet, no sooner had she forgotten the life-or-death tension than she was struck by the thought of the ultimate condition she had promised Garen in her desperation. Her bright eyes, still damp with tears, were instantly clouded over with a dull gloom.

Vivi had indeed harbored some hazy feelings for Garen before, but she had never imagined she would have to surrender herself to him in such a forced manner. Without any romance or narrative, this was nothing more than a cold, naked exchange of interests—an undeniably wretched emotional experience.

The image of Garen as a bright, righteous, and perfect knight, which Vivi had held in her heart, collapsed in that moment, making him seem like a stranger, or even someone to be feared.

"Vivi, don't worry."

Garen, failing to read the complex, unspeakable emotions in her eyes, lowered his voice to comfort her:

"I said I would help you, and I will see it through to the end."

"Hmm."

Vivi simply nodded blankly.

A moment later, however, a deep crimson flush rose to her pale cheeks. Like a kitten unable to resist, she murmured in a voice barely louder than a mosquito's:

"Garen, I will keep my promise and become your wife."

"I hope you will treat this country well in the future..."

Her cheeks were so hot they felt as if they were steaming. Finally, she squeezed out a few more words: "And me."

"Ahem..."

Garen coughed awkwardly, then stated his position with righteous indignation:

"Vivi, what are you thinking!"

"Do you take me for some kind of hypocrite who would only help you because I covet your money or beauty?"

Vivi blinked in surprise, a spark of light returning to her dull eyes.

Crocodile, meanwhile, shot Garen a look of disdain. The expression on his scarred, reptilian face clearly asked a single, massive question: *Aren't you?*

"I certainly am not!" Garen declared, answering his own question with a sense of righteous dignity.

The blush on Vivi’s cheeks deepened with excitement. Prejudiced by Garen’s glorious image, she believed his defense without a second thought.

"Enough!"

"I didn't call you here to flirt!"

Crocodile roared impatiently, slashing the map on the table in two with his hook. The paper parted before his sharp blade, yet the wooden table beneath remained unscathed—a testament to the fact that, despite his fury, Crocodile still possessed remarkable self-control.

He fixed a cold gaze on Garen and Vivi, his slightly gravelly voice thick with invisible intimidation.

"Since we cannot reach an agreement, are you prepared for a lose-lose situation?"

As he spoke, Crocodile focused his killing intent entirely on Vivi, adding coldly:

"Garen, if you had come here alone, that would be one thing."

"But you were arrogant enough to bring this incompetent princess along with you!"

The Sand Crocodile’s form began to blur, his silhouette dissolving into restless sand mist. The sound of countless grains of sand began to echo through the room. Outside the villa’s floor-to-ceiling windows, the once-calm golden desert landscape shifted violently, whipped into a terrifying sandstorm that blotted out the sun and left the sky in darkness.

"Do you really think..."

Crocodile stood up from the sofa, cloaked in a thick mist of yellow sand, his two-and-a-half-meter frame casting a heavy, oppressive shadow.

"...that your 'new bride' can walk away unscathed from me, Crocodile?"

Vivi’s face turned ghastly pale; her worst nightmare had come to pass.

"Of course she can."

Garen laughed nonchalantly, as if he didn't care for Crocodile’s intimidation at all.

Crocodile froze, a mental replay of the "Mihawk vs. Garen" duel flashing through his mind. Garen, however, poured oil on the fire:

"I wouldn't have come here if I didn't have a backup plan!"

"Crocodile, it’s not too late to sit back down."

"You bastard!" Crocodile spat through gritted teeth. "You are courting death!"

His legendary self-control finally collapsed completely in the face of Garen’s overbearing arrogance. Once the Sand Crocodile went on a rampage, he was a man who would dare to throw sand in Whitebeard’s face. He decided to risk it all and fight the overstepping knight from the East Blue to the death.

Yet Garen showed no intention of fighting, simply saying something completely out of the blue:

"If you had investigated thoroughly, you would know that the Marine hero Garp and I are old friends."

"What?"

Crocodile paused, then laughed in exasperation. "At a time like this, are you trying to intimidate me with Garp’s name?"

"No, no, no..." Garen shook his head, smiling as he explained.

"I’m not telling you this to say that I have powerful backing, but to tell you this—"

"I have the direct line to the high command of Marine Headquarters."

"Eh?"

Crocodile was even more confused, while Robin, standing to the side, felt a vague sense of foreboding.

At that moment, Garen produced a Den Den Mushi—a high-end visual Den Den Mushi capable of transmitting both sound and image. Crocodile was no stranger to this; the reporters trailing Garen the day before had carried similar devices.

Under Crocodile’s puzzled gaze, Garen aimed the visual snail’s camera lens at him and Robin, then lifted the receiver to make the call. He didn't rush to dial, instead pointing to the map that Crocodile had just slashed in two.

"When you were proposing your terms earlier, I noticed something:"

"You offered to cede the economically developed regions of western Alabasta, including your own lair, Rainbase, while keeping the relatively barren eastern regions with their scarce oases for yourself."

"Why is that?"

Crocodile and Robin’s expressions shifted simultaneously.

Garen continued, his tone heavy with implication:

"The most valuable things in eastern Alabasta are likely the four-thousand-year-old royal capital, Alubarna, and the historical monuments left behind by the ancient royal bloodline."

"Surely our Warlord of the Sea, Sir Crocodile, hasn't suddenly developed a passion for tourism?"

Crocodile’s expression turned grim, and even Robin, who had remained aloof, trembled with agitation at Garen’s words.

"So, if anything happens to Vivi or me today..."

"Marine Headquarters will receive this recording:"

Garen placed the receiver to his lips, took a deep breath, and spoke:

"Hello? Is this Marine Headquarters?"

"I am Garen, a law-abiding citizen from the East Blue. I am here to formally report the treasonous acts of Warlord of the Sea Crocodile and the 'Devil Child' Nico Robin!"

"These two maniacs are in league, colluding to openly study the Poneglyphs within the Kingdom of Alabasta—a practice strictly forbidden by the World Government!"

"I hear that the intelligence regarding these Poneglyphs is also linked to the legendary ancient weapon, Pluton."