Snowflakes drifted down like silent ons, veiling the frozen forest in a white shroud. Byrnndi World and his entourage erged from the treeline, their heavy boots crunching over the snow, and were greeted by a vast, flat expanse of white.
There, in the middle of that ghostly field, stood over a dozen n in jet-black mafia suits—mbers of the Donquixote Family. Their expressions were tense, guarded. Behind them, wooden crates were stacked high, their corners buried in ice and powder.
World's lip curled into a sneer, mocking and wild.
"Where is that little rat Doflamingo? What's the matter? Doesn't have the guts to co see face-to-face for such an important deal?"
He chuckled with derision.
"The so-called 'King of the North Blue Underworld'—hiding in sewers like a coward. Hilarious."
The Donquixote n bit down their fury. One of them stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Lord Doflamingo has other pressing matters. He couldn't attend in person."
World's gaze flicked toward him, unimpressed.
"So? Are my goods here or not?"
The mafioso gave a signal. The others moved quickly, hauling crates forward and cracking them open with iron bars. Inside glead row upon row of rifles, sabers, and pistols, each pristine and lethal.
"Enough arms to supply 3,000 n. All top-standard."
World's crew surged forward, ravenous. They tore open crates, pulled out weapons, held up rifles to the light.
"Hah! Now this is quality!"
"These are better than what most allied nations of the World Governnt carry!"
World laughed with satisfaction. But his eyes glead with sothing darker.
"Where's the main course?"
The lead Donquixote mber gestured. He walked to the edge of the forest and knelt, hands brushing aside snow until they found a tarp handle.
With one swift motion—
Shhhk!—
He peeled back a heavy canvas, revealing a monstrous piece of machinery.
The cannon was pitch black and cold, its barrel over three ters wide and eight ters long. It sat mounted on thick spoked wheels, like an ancient war god waiting to be roused. A dense, burnt-tal stench radiated from its hollow mouth.
World's pupils dilated.
Whoosh! His figure vanished in an instant, reappearing by the cannon's side.
He ran a hand over its fra, fingers trembling slightly.
"Where are the shells?"
The Donquixote man revealed another tarp, and under it were massive ammo crates. Inside lay shells nearly as tall as a man.
"This cannon is one-of-a-kind. Built from the ground up. Range over three nautical miles. Paired with those shells, it can sink a battleship in a single shot."
World chuckled low and wicked.
"I don't trust words. Let's see it for ourselves."
He hoisted a shell with ease, as if lifting a toy, and loaded it into the cannon.
Fsshhht! A fuse sizzled, a thread of fla dancing in the wind.
Then—
BOOM!!
The world exploded with sound. The blast was deafening. Snow rained from trees, dislodged by the sonic quake. The cannon's roar echoed for miles.
A black arc tore through the sky. Monts later, the shell slamd into a distant mountaintop.
BOOOOM!!!
A shockwave tore through the earth. Fire engulfed the peak. Avalanches cascaded in every direction. When the smoke cleared, half the mountain was gone.
Everyone stood frozen.
Even Byojack, wide-eyed and breathless, couldn't speak.
And World—
He threw back his head and roared.
"Barororororo!! YES! This is power! This is what I've been craving!"
His silhouette burned red in the firelight, laughter echoing over the snow.
Byojack's heart sank. And he didn't even use the Moa Moa no Mi...
Just the cannon alone had that effect.
If enhanced by World's Devil Fruit—doubling or hundred-folding its destructive power...
It might truly be capable of annihilating an island—or Marineford itself.
World stepped forward and gently patted the cannon's barrel.
"Doflamingo didn't disappoint."
The Donquixote man bowed.
"The Donquixote na is ironclad in the North Blue."
World nodded.
"Still... I haven't tested the rest of the rchandise yet."
The mafioso blinked.
RATATATATAT!!
Gunfire erupted.
Donquixote n dropped like puppets, holes torn through their suits, crimson soaking into the white snow. World's pirates grinned, rifles smoking in their hands.
"You dare—!"
BANG!
The lead man's skull cracked sideways. A neat hole blood between his eyes. He collapsed, staring up in horror as blood filled his mouth.
"Lord Doflamingo... no... Lord Darren... he won't forgive you..."
World approached with a musket still smoking. He looked down with cold amusent.
"Doflamingo I've heard of. But Darren? Who the hell is that?"
The corpse gave no answer.
World turned to go, but then—
VRRRMMMMM!!!
A sudden sound like tearing tal and thunder scread through the air.
Sothing fast. Sothing inbound.
World's eyes narrowed.
His body twisted. A palm shot out.
BOOM! The force of his push cracked the snowpack as he slid backward, catching a sleek, blade-like tal surfboard with one hand.
Its tail whipped in the wind.
Then, behind him, ca a voice—
Low.
Clear.
Inevitable.
"It's ."
---
To be continued...
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