A deserted island.
Doflamingo clawed his way up from a coma of pain. His fingers twitched; his eyes cracked open—then he jolted fully awake. Instinctively, he touched his face and exhaled in relief.
Thank God, my sunglasses are still on.
"Awake?" a deep, amused voice asked beside him.
He gritted his teeth through the searing ache and forced himself upright. Cold sweat dotted his brow. The brutal wounds Scopper Gaban had carved into him were crudely bandaged; the bleeding had stopped.
"Godfather…"
He turned toward the man on a nearby rock, a cigar between his fingers. The Marine Vice Admiral sat bare-chested, a lattice of old and new scars etched across a body built like armor. Sunlight laid a fierce, looming grandeur over him.
He was a bloody ruin and left his wounds uncovered. Though they'd clotted, the bone-deep gashes made Doflamingo's eyelids twitch.
He's hurt worse than me, and he acts like it's nothing… A monster.
"Where are we?"
"Doesn't matter," Darren said, smiling as he turned to his wayward godson. "How do you feel?"
How do I feel?
"My injuries are serious but not fatal," Doflamingo answered by reflex. "Give me a couple weeks and I'll be fine."
"No," Darren said, gaze cutting through him. "How did you feel fighting Scopper Gaban?"
Doflamingo blinked. Under that knowing smile, he steadied his breathing and took stock. After a few moments his pupils tightened behind the lenses.
"My Haki… and my strings. Control feels… stronger."
Darren's mouth curved, pleased. "Now do you understand?"
Doflamingo stared, struck dumb.
He didn't throw me to Gaban to get me killed… but to make me stronger? Is he really that generous?
"Don't look at me like that, Doffy," Darren chuckled, exhaling a long coil of smoke. "I'm your Godfather. My standards for you are high."
He flicked him a sidelong glance. "You, on the other hand, are always guarded—always suspicious of me."
"I get it. Out here on the Grand Line, vigilance is a virtue. No one wins forever. But with enough care, you can avoid losing forever, too."
"Whether you hate me—or want to kill me—I don't care. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."
Doflamingo licked his cracked lips, fists tightening at his sides. "I can't," he rasped.
Darren's next words froze him.
"No—you must."
He laughed, unrestrained, the sound rolling down the beach.
"Hatred isn't the best fuel," Darren went on, rising to his full height, blood-drenched and unbowed, "but it's one hell of an accelerant."
"The hatred you hold for the Celestial Dragons and the World Government is abstract. What you feel for me is direct."
Sunlight poured down like molten gold, turning him colossal, indomitable. Under Doflamingo's stunned stare, the Vice Admiral's mottled wounds stopped weeping, knit, and scabbed—too slowly to be natural, too steadily to ignore.
"Keep getting stronger, Doffy," he said softly, looking at the dazed blond brat with a gentle smile. "Let the urge to kill me drive you."
"Remember: you were born a king. And aside from me, your Godfather, no one should—or is worthy of—frightening you."
"Scopper Gaban, the Dark King Rayleigh, Whitebeard Edward Newgate, Big Mom Charlotte Linlin, even Kaido of the Beasts… none of them deserves your submission."
Waves hissed and broke in the bright glare.
Darren bent until their eyes were level and ruffled Doflamingo's hair with an easy warmth. "Do you understand?"
---
The New World.
Along a certain route, a slave ship slid over the swells toward the Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Filthy, blood-stained iron cages lay stacked like cordwood across the deck. Whips cracked. Captives groaned.
"Hahaha! This batch is top-class. We even netted three Fish-Men!"
The trader, jowls sagging and eyes slick with greed, leered at the bleeding prisoners and met their hate with a hungry smile.
"Don't beat 'em so hard! Kill one and we eat the loss."
"These are the nobles' playthings. They weren't easy to catch."
He rubbed jeweled fingers together and chuckled, shivering at the thought of the deal to come. He was trading with gods—people who held the world in their hands.
Keep the Celestial Dragons pleased, and there's nothing I can't have.
Lost in blissful schemes, he didn't register the first jolt.
Boom!
The hull lurched. Men sprawled. Cages slammed together with a screaming clang.
"What was that?!"
"A Sea King?!"
"No! Nothing there!"
"Wait… what's that?!"
Panic burst like a fuse. The trader staggered to the rail and clamped on, eyes widening at the crimson blur knifing through the water below.
Before he could draw breath—
Thwack!
A jet of water punched from the sea like an arrow and bored straight through his throat with a shriek.
To be continued...