~ Support & Read 13 Advanced Chapters on Patreon!
❁❁❁❁
Dressrosa—an island in the first half of the New World, only a few days' sail from Fish-Man Island's exit. In the vastness of these seas, a journey of re days made them practically neighbors.
Though it had given birth to the Donquixote Family of Celestial Dragons eight hundred years ago, the island itself remained nothing more than a sun-scorched, impoverished rock.
It possessed nothing of value save for its tropical climate and a handful of cultural quirks.
The ruling Riku family governed with such selfless benevolence—never imposing their will upon the people—that they couldn't even afford the tribute required for World Governnt mbership.
No resources. No wealth. For Doflamingo to obsess over such a barren place simply because his ancestors once ruled there...
Arthur refused to believe a man of his calculating intelligence would be driven by sothing as worthless as nostalgia. He could have claid any number of prosperous islands instead.
So what was the true prize?
What secret lay buried there? No one knew.
Perhaps the answer existed only in the twisted depths of Doflamingo's mind.
But even if it concealed a secret—sothing damning about the Celestial Dragons, perhaps the very leverage Doflamingo held over them—what did it matter?
Arthur was a man who pursued only what genuinely captivated him. For instance—a certain Devil Fruit that granted its user vision extending four thousand kiloters, a reconnaissance ability that dwarfed even his own Observation Haki.
His own senses allowed him to hear, predict, and perceive, but he had yet to push them further. His range barely reached two hundred kiloters.
The Glare-Glare Fruit, however, could peer into the very hearts of n—an ability that echoed Queen Otohi's gift for hearing souls. And it ca with that staggering four-thousand-kiloter clairvoyant range. The implications were staggering.
A power of that magnitude transcended normal classification.
According to the encyclopedia, that four-thousand-kiloter range represented rely the "pinnacle" achieved by previous users.
To Arthur, that simply ant they lacked the exceptional "Talent" possessed by n like Doflamingo or Kuma. Could a truly gifted user push those boundaries even further?
It would be like commanding a personal satellite. Absolutely monstrous. Content originally cos from novel·fire·net
Arthur craved that power. Once recovered from his injuries, he could use it to hunt Devil Fruits across the entire globe.
"A user of the Paracia-type Glare-Glare Fruit?" Doflamingo's smile grew strained. "To catch the Thunder God Pirates' attention... she must be remarkably fortunate. The mont we locate her, I'll ensure my subordinates keep their distance."
"Her na is Viola. Second daughter of the Riku royal family," Arthur stated flatly, turning toward the Donquixote Family's flamingo-headed vessel. "She is very important to ."
On Sabaody's shores, the pirate swarm continued their brutal lee, transforming the ground into rivers of blood.
"Doflamingo! You trying to claim the Thunder Emperor's head for yourself?!" one pirate shrieked upon spotting their exchange. Instantly, all eyes locked onto them.
"Kill him!"
"Don't let him steal the glory!"
They abandoned their infighting, turning their blades toward Doflamingo as one.
Doflamingo—whose temper already simred from restraining himself around Arthur—felt his rage boil over.
"Khh..."
Veins pulsed across his forehead. The fury he'd been suppressing erupted with volcanic force. A wicked, gleeful smile stretched across his face.
"Fuffuffuffuffu! They're practically begging to die!"
"Overheat!"
A whip of compressed, razor-sharp strings lashed out, bisecting dozens of charging pirates at the waist. Severed limbs and viscera painted the beautiful archipelago in shades of carnage. Sabaody had transford into a living hell.
The rest of the Donquixote Family joined the massacre with sadistic enthusiasm.
Hours passed before Doflamingo's bloodlust finally ebbed. Only then did he lead his crew back to their ship, had it coated, and descended toward the New World.
————————
Another beautiful, cloudless day graced the seas.
The New World's chaotic magnetic fields made such weather a precious rarity. Storms, blizzards, hail, and lightning were the norm here. A clear day like this felt almost miraculous.
Every year, countless marines, pirates, and rchants fell victim to that rciless, unpredictable weather.
"Screee!"
A gull soared through azure skies, diving at breakneck speed, talons and beak aid at a small fish below.
Just then, the ocean's surface began to churn. Bubbles stread upward from the depths.
"SPLASH!"
The sea parted as a massive ship erupted from below. The coating bubble shattered into nothing, and the vessel settled onto the waves with practiced ease.
"Finally back on the surface! Fish-Man Island's scenery is gorgeous, but nothing beats open air," Declared Pica, a towering mber of the Donquixote Family, his voice an absurdly high-pitched squeak.
Unless one possessed skin thick as armor or genuine fearlessness, any Devil Fruit user felt profound unease on Fish-Man Island. That bubble overhead felt perpetually on the verge of collapse, ready to let the entire ocean co crashing down.
In that environnt, claustrophobia beca torture. Surrounded on all sides—above, below, everywhere—by an ocean held back only by a fragile film, it was like being trapped in a slowly shrinking cage. Enough to make anyone's heart race and skin break out in cold sweat.
And Pica, despite wielding the Stone-Stone Fruit's power, suffered from exactly that phobia.
Yet for his family's sake, he spent his days encased in stone, constantly battling his fear. His loyalty ran absolute.
What kind of charisma did Doflamingo possess that inspired such devotion, such willingness to die for him?
Every pirate or marine who carved out a reputation on these seas possessed sothing extraordinary.
On deck, Arthur lay curled in a lounge chair, lazily absorbing the sun's warmth. His face remained deathly pale, drained of all color. IV tubes snaked into his powerful chest and arms.
Doflamingo's ship doctor had examined his injuries but lacked the skill for aningful treatnt.
His thods proved less effective than Arthur's own technique of stimulating cellular regeneration with lightning.
Garp's devastating blow had left a wound that festered like a curse embedded in his very bones. Electrical therapy had no effect—and the constant agony assaulted Arthur's consciousness without reprieve.
This was pain that could shatter a man's sanity. The mont the ship's doctor glimpsed the wound, he'd nearly lost control of his bladder. He then stared at Arthur with absolute disbelief, as if thinking: He's still alive with injuries like this? What kind of monster is he?
Of course, the doctor would never voice such thoughts. All he could manage was administering IV drips to prevent the wound from worsening.
Actually healing it lay beyond his abilities entirely.
Any other man would have already died. But Arthur endured through pure, unbreakable will.
"Thunder Emperor. Would you care for sothing to eat?" Doflamingo approached with his signature theatrical swagger.
"So wine—" Arthur replied weakly, waving a tired hand. "—And bring the latest newspaper."
❁❁❁❁
~ 13 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon!
sp-atreon/dragonnx
(Just remove the hyphen to access Patreon normally.)
Reviews
All reviews (0)