"The Marines?!"
Fisher Tiger stared up, dumbfounded.
The young man before him had sharp, blade-straight brows and star-bright eyes that seemed to hold the night sky. Yet when they narrowed, a chill gleam cut through—predator's focus behind a casual smile that, in the sunlight, somehow radiated steadiness and trust.
Who is this…?
"You're the King of the North Blue… Rogers Darren!"
Ignoring the blood sliding down his face, Fisher Tiger widened his eyes in disbelief. A famed traveler who'd seen much of the world, he recognized the man at once—and then the shock hit.
Rogers Darren, the "Monster" of Headquarters and rising Marine star, had just executed agents of CP0—the World Government's top intelligence arm.
Had he lost his mind? To strike at the Government's own… Wasn't that treason against the Marines?
Tiger's gaze flicked between Darren and the two headless CP0 corpses in the distance. His voice trembled. "Y-you… you…"
Darren found the avalanche of nicknames a touch embarrassing—more than a little overblown. "Relax, Mr. Tiger," he said lightly, waving a hand. "Why don't you stand up first?"
Only then did Fisher Tiger realize he was still kneeling. Flustered, he scrambled to his feet. A flush crawled over his rough features, barely visible against the vivid red of the Sea Bream Fish-Man's skin.
"Vice Admiral Darren… how could you—"
A cold voice rolled in from the horizon.
Tiger looked up to see a figure in a pink feathered coat descending from the cloudline, swaying as if borne by invisible currents. Like a rogue flamingo, Doflamingo alighted with practiced ease, hands in his pockets, swagger in every step.
"Heh heh heh… Godfather, is this the candidate you had in mind?" His odd laughter lilted through the air. "Strong aura, sure—but he's still just a slave…"
Behind his sunglasses, Doflamingo's gaze slid to the crimson brand on Fisher Tiger's chest. The scar, long since healed, resembled a dragon's hoof—burned deep into flesh.
Fisher Tiger gritted his teeth and glared, humiliation flashing in his eyes.
"The Hoof of the Celestial Dragon."
The mark the World Nobles burned into their slaves—a crest that declared ownership, an eternal stigma of "lesser humanity."
"That's irrelevant," Darren said, glancing at Doflamingo.
Doflamingo chuckled and said nothing.
Tiger stared at the pair, reeling. One was a Marine Vice Admiral known across the seas; the other, an unmistakably ruthless pirate. How were they connected? And the pirate had called Darren… "Godfather"?
None of it mattered more than what he'd just witnessed: Darren's merciless execution of CP0.
"Well, Mr. Tiger… you're free now." Darren stepped aside with a faint smile. "The sea is yours."
Tiger froze, bewilderment flickering. He hesitated—then dropped to his knees again with a thud, pressing his forehead to the ground. "Vice Admiral Darren! Please… save my comrades!"
---
Deep in the jungle of the deserted island, hysterical curses and shattering glass spilled from a lavishly decorated palace.
"Damn it! It's been three minutes!"
"Why is there still no news?!"
"You useless dogs—what are you even good for?!"
Saint Feipuluosi's eyes burned red as he hurled a wineglass at a kneeling CP0 agent. Crystal exploded across the floor, drenching the agent in wine and glittering shards.
Head bowed, the agent didn't dare move. Beneath the mask, disgust flickered and was gone.
"Aaaah!!"
"What's happening to me?!"
"My body—why can't I control—"
"Don't come near me! Stay away!"
"I don't know—!"
While the Celestial Dragon raged, terrified screams erupted outside, folding into a chaos of howls and agony.
"What now?!"
A vein throbbed at Saint Feipuluosi's temple. He tore the pistol from his belt and stormed out, seething. He was disciplining his dog—and those scum outside dared raise their voices? Did they think this was some filthy underworld bazaar?
He ripped open the curtains and froze.
The stench of blood hit like a wall.
In the clearing, hundreds of guards and attendants were hacking each other apart, eyes wide with terror and confusion. Their movements were stiff, jerky—puppets sawing their comrades to pieces even as they screamed.
Inside the palace, three CP0 agents surged forward to cover the Celestial Dragon. After a heartbeat of shock, they moved as one, bodies interposed.
"My lord, watch out!"
"Saint Feipuluosi, please step back! Enemy attack!"
But he seemed deaf to them. His head tilted back, eyes lifting toward the sky.
White threads fell like shooting stars, lancing down to the island's far edge. In moments, they drew together into a vast, gleaming birdcage that sealed the entire island.
Saint Feipuluosi staggered two steps and spun toward the jungle's depths.
From the shade emerged a golden-haired figure in a pink feathered coat, pointed heels tapping with precise, cold rhythm. A thin, sinister smile curled his lips.
"Heh heh heh… it's been too long, Uncle Saint Feipuluosi."
"After all these years, you still love a good comedy, don't you?"
Saint Feipuluosi's pupils shrank to pinpoints. "You!" he hissed.
To be continued...