"You little bastard!" Saint Feipuluosi’s voice broke with rage. He pointed a shaking finger at Doflamingo, chest tight, breath ragged.
Even after all these years, he recognized him at a glance—the brat from the Donquixote Family. The vicious little devil who had once strode into the Holy Land carrying the severed head of his own father, the fool Saint Homing. How could he forget? A patricide fit for the stage.
"Heh heh heh... now, now, Uncle Feipuluosi," Doflamingo chuckled, his laughter turning thin and sharp. "We’re both Celestial Dragons, aren’t we?"
At the insult, a glint of malice flashed beneath his sunglasses. His fingers curled like talons, twitching.
"No! You were cast out of the Holy Land—stripped of your World Noble status!" Saint Feipuluosi spat, a mocking smile twisting his mouth. "What right does trash like you—half-blood filth—have to call ’uncle’?"
Doflamingo’s eyes went to ice. A vein stood out on his forehead as he flicked his fingers—threads snapped forth in a vicious slash.
Clang!
A pale, wraithlike figure appeared in front of Saint Feipuluosi, arms crossed and sheathed in Armant Haki to catch three invisible strings. Sparks leapt where force t force. The shockwave shoved the Celestial Dragon back two steps; he stared, rattled and bewildered.
"You dare strike ?!" he scread, his voice cracking. "You’re dead! Not even the Gorosei can save you now! Kill him! Kill him now! Doflamingo—you’re finished!"
The words had barely left him when two CP0 agents vanished like smoke.
They reappeared behind Doflamingo.
One raised a leg. The other braced two fingers.
Dark spirals of Armant Haki coiled around their limbs, heavy with killing intent. Whatever this golden-haired upstart was, he had offended a Celestial Dragon. The sentence was the sa for all:
Instant execution.
"Rankyaku!"
"Shigan!"
Their cold intent hit like frost. They moved without hesitation, blades of wind and steel-tipped digits thrusting in perfect concert—CP0’s infamous precision laid bare.
Doflamingo didn’t so much as glance back. A mockery tugged at his lips.
"Can’t let you kill my dear godson now, can I?"
The drawling voice ca from between the two agents.
How fast?!
When did he—?
Hairs rose along their necks. Cold sweat beaded beneath their masks. Forcing their bodies to twist mid-strike, they redirected their killing blows at the intruder in the sa heartbeat.
Clang!
Clatter!
Sparks burst as the air rang with bone-deep shock.
The leg that could cleave a battleship—
The finger that could pierce steel—
Both t sothing harder than diamond. Shin and index finger bowed into grotesque arcs, then snapped with sickening pops.
White-hot pain flooded their skulls. Behind the masks, eyes went bloodshot with disbelief.
Darren stood there, untouched, still wearing that easy smile.
How is this possible?!
"I’d hoped to trade a few blows with the ’Strongest Shield of the Celestial Dragons,’" he said, black hair stirring in the breeze. "Seems that won’t be happening. What a pity."
He didn’t move his feet. Standing just behind Doflamingo, he let his gaze slide sideways—and grinned.
Under the agents’ horrified stare, his hands flashed up, thick fingers clamping around both their skulls at once.
Then he squeezed.
Crack.
Crack.
The heads of the two CP0 elites—n whose strength rivaled ordinary Vice Admirals—burst like overripe fruit. Blood and gray matter geysered, only to be smothered midair by the Vice Admiral’s Haki. Not a drop touched him.
Twin fountains of blood roared from headless necks as the bodies toppled. Darren turned slowly toward the Celestial Dragon, whose face had gone corpse-pale.
"Vice Admiral Rogers Darren, Marine Headquarters," he said with a slight, mocking bow. "At your service, Lord Saint Feipuluosi."
For a heartbeat, everything before the palace fell into a stunned silence.
Marines, attendants, even the Celestial Dragons themselves stared at the carnage, hearts pounding. CP0—the Governnt’s elite. And in that man’s hands, they were no more than squawking chickens—two easy twists, and silence.
"Y-you... Rogers Darren?!" Saint Feipuluosi found his voice at last, shrill with disbelief. "What are you doing?!"
He stumbled, tripped over his own feet, and crashed to the ground, eyes fixed on the Vice Admiral’s predatory smile.
"I’m a Celestial Dragon!" he screeched. "If you dare kill , the Governnt will never forgive you! Your power, your fa, your status—your foolishness will destroy everything!"
And then the truth hit him like a bolt: Rogers Darren was here to kill him. Why?! The Gorosei had entrusted this Marine whelp with investigating the Celestial Dragon assassination in the North Blue...
"Wait!"
A thought stabbed through his panic. He stared at the smiling Marine, horror widening his eyes.
Saint Shaldes?
"No, no, you’ve got it all wrong," Darren said, flapping a hand as if batting away a fly. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, lit it, and exhaled with a weary sigh. "Lord Saint Feipuluosi, I wouldn’t dare kill you. After all, I’m just an ordinary Marine."
He found a rock, sat, propped his chin on his hand, and watched as if settling in for a good show.
"Let the Celestial Dragons settle their own scores. Seems fair, doesn’t it?"
Saint Feipuluosi looked as if thunder had struck him where he stood.
"Yes, that’s perfectly fair, Godfather," Doflamingo hissed, licking dry lips as a manic smile took shape. He turned that feral grin on Saint Feipuluosi. "So. Let’s catch up, Uncle Feipuluosi."
His crooked fingers began to twitch, beckoning.
Invisible threads unfurled behind him, lacquered in Armant Haki, gleaming with a dark, ominous sheen beneath the sun.
To be continued...
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