-Real World-
The revelation echoed across every sea, every island, every ship that had witnessed the Sky Screen's prophecy: Domain Expansion wasn't just a technique—it was the future.
In darkened strategy rooms and sun-drenched decks alike, the world's power brokers reached the same inescapable conclusion. If Monkey D. Luffy could bypass the traditional path of mastery and leap directly to the third stage of Devil Fruit evolution through auxiliary means, then others must follow suit. The rules of engagement had fundamentally changed.
Domain Expansion would become the baseline for top-tier combat. The logic was brutal in its simplicity: within a manifested Domain, Devil Fruit abilities bypassed even Haki defenses. The hit effects were absolute, unavoidable, overwhelming. Even Donquixote Doflamingo—a man who'd proven capable of holding his own against Marine Admirals—had been rendered passive and defensive against this technique.
For the forces without Devil Fruit users, the future looked increasingly grim.
Nowhere was this despair more palpable than aboard the Red Force.
The flagship of the Red Hair Pirates drifted through calm waters, but the atmosphere aboard was anything but peaceful. Shanks' crew moved with unusual tension, their typical boisterous energy replaced by brooding silence. The Sky Screen had delivered their death sentence in advance, and the psychological weight pressed down on every shoulder.
The pirates who'd once idolized Roger—who'd built their entire combat philosophy around pure Haki mastery—now found themselves locked out of the emerging meta. Following in the Pirate King's footsteps had seemed heroic, principled even. Now it looked like strategic suicide. Without Devil Fruit users in their ranks, they didn't even have a foundation to begin researching Domain techniques.
But the existential crisis wasn't the worst of it.
The protected islands—territories that had flown the Red Hair Pirates' flag for years—were quietly defecting. One by one, they removed Shanks' symbol and replaced it with the flags of Big Mom or Kaido. The Beasts Pirates and Big Mom Pirates were absorbing territory at an unprecedented rate, while even the Whitebeard Pirates found themselves in a similar decline.
It was the oldest story in the world: rats fleeing a sinking ship.
"Boss." A grizzled crew member approached Shanks, fists clenched white. "Another three islands returned the flags this morning. Just... threw them in the sea and hoisted Big Mom's colors before our messenger even left port."
Another pirate slammed his palm against the mast. "We should sail there right now and remind those ungrateful bastards what happens when you spit in a Yonko's face! After everything we've done for them—"
"No."
Shanks' voice cut through the rising anger like a blade. The red-haired Yonko sat beneath the ship's canopy, sake bottle in hand, gaze fixed on the horizon rather than his crew. His tone was calm, almost detached.
"Let them withdraw the flags if they want. We're not responsible for what happens after." He took a long pull from the bottle. "I'm not in the mood to babysit cowards."
The crew exchanged uncertain glances. Their captain had been like this for days now—distant, philosophical, spending hours watching the Sky Screen broadcasts while drinking steadily. It was unsettling to see Shanks, of all people, so resigned to fate.
Yasopp settled down beside his captain, his own sake cup already half-empty. The master sniper's usual sharp eyes were slightly unfocused with drink. "Boss... your bet on that arm in East Blue. Looks like you called it right. I never expected Luffy to reach this level so fast." He gestured vaguely at the sky. "The kid's become a monster who can stand on his own."
Pride flickered across Yasopp's weathered face as he thought of his own son. Usopp had his cowardly moments, sure—but he'd chosen the right crew to grow with. Following Luffy would forge him into something special. The boy had good instincts, even if he'd inherited his father's tendency to run from danger.
But did I choose the right captain?
The thought surfaced unbidden, and Yasopp's grip tightened on his cup. A month ago, he would've never even considered such a question. Now, after the Sky Screen's revelations, doubt had planted its roots deep.
He'd been examining his journey with Shanks from every angle, and the conclusion was inescapable: the happiest times had been before Shanks became a Yonko. When they'd been nobodies chasing adventure. The title of Emperor brought prestige and power, sure—but it also brought shackles. Responsibilities. Targets on their backs.
Maybe they'd peaked years ago and just hadn't realized it.
Shanks' fingers traced the scar where his left arm used to be, his gaze distant as he watched Luffy clash with Doflamingo in the sky above. "Captain Roger was waiting for someone," he murmured, more to himself than Yasopp. "Was it you, Luffy? Will you be the one to reach Laugh Tale and finish what he started?"
His expression darkened. "Shame about Ace."
The words were cold, clinical—devoid of the grief one might expect for the Pirate King's biological son. But Shanks had learned long ago that sentimentality was a luxury the sea couldn't afford. Ace's lone-wolf personality had always been a ticking time bomb. You couldn't survive the New World's apex predators by playing solo. Even Roger's bloodline couldn't buy exemption from that fundamental truth.
Everyone had their fate. Ace had met his.
"Where do you think Buggy's been hiding Ann all these years?" Shanks wondered aloud, referencing Roger's daughter—the secret even most of the world didn't know. "She never showed up on the seas. Buggy must've stashed her somewhere safe."
Yasopp grunted. "You really think that clown had the patience to play guardian?"
"I don't know what to think anymore." Shanks took another drink, his voice heavy. "The more I see on that screen, the less I understand what's happening. I thought I had a handle on fate, on destiny. Turns out I couldn't even see my own crew's ending coming."
The admission hung in the air like a death knell.
Shanks, who'd faced down Admirals and Yonko alike without flinching, sounded lost. Confused. The man who'd bet his arm on the next generation now questioned whether he'd made the right wager.
Will we really be wiped out?
The question echoed through every crew member's mind as they watched their captain drink under the canopy, waiting for a future they couldn't prevent.
-Broadcast-
Within the crimson alien space of Luffy's Domain, the tides of battle were turning decisively.
Doflamingo's essence—his very being—was being siphoned away like water through a sieve. Luffy had already absorbed one-third of the Celestial Dragon's core value, and the effect was intoxicating. The Straw Hat Captain's red giant form swelled larger with each passing moment, muscles bulging with stolen power.
This is incredible, Luffy thought, a manic grin spreading across his face. Taking other people's hard work feels AMAZING!
He'd discovered the ultimate shortcut, and part of him wondered why he'd ever bothered training when he could just take strength instead. The high was addictive—pure, unearned power flooding his system.
Doflamingo felt the drain acutely. His movements had slowed. His strings lacked their usual snap and precision. He'd been reduced to two-thirds of his former strength, and the number was still dropping.
But the Heavenly Demon refused to bow.
Even weakened, even trapped in another man's Domain, Doflamingo's connection to his Ito Ito no Mi (String-String Fruit) remained intact. The fundamental bond between user and fruit couldn't be severed so easily. His hands moved in practiced patterns, and reality responded.
"Taigan Shiro Ito!" (Giant Wave White String!)
Hundreds—no, thousands—of white strings erupted from nothingness around Doflamingo's position. At this level of mastery, he didn't need existing materials to work with. The strings manifested from pure Devil Fruit power, a flood of razor-sharp threads that filled the alien space like a tsunami.
The wave crashed forward, threatening to shred everything in its path.
"I'll eliminate you completely within my own territory!" Luffy roared back, crossing his right arm over his chest. Armament Haki spread across his skin in black patterns as he bit down on his thumb and blew.
Air rushed into his muscles rather than his bones, and his body responded with grotesque enthusiasm. His torso twisted and expanded horizontally, arms and legs swelling to tree-trunk proportions. His height increased by several feet as muscle mass piled onto his frame in impossible configurations.
Fourth Gear: Muscleman!
In this form, Luffy's limbs had become so thick that three grown men linking hands couldn't encircle one arm. The compressed muscle fibers radiated heat, and his body practically vibrated with condensed power.
He launched himself skyward, using the superhuman leg strength to clear the incoming wave of strings entirely. Why waste energy on defense when he could go straight for the kill?
Luffy's jump carried him nearly a thousand meters into the air. From Doflamingo's ground-level perspective, the Straw Hat Captain became a tiny dot against the crimson sky of the Domain.
What is that idiot planning?
Doflamingo's eyes narrowed, tracking the distant figure. Then understanding hit him like a freight train.
"Gomu Gomu no Kong Gun!" (Rubber-Rubber Monkey God Gun!)
Luffy stretched his arms backward in Fourth Gear, and his right fist began to swell. It grew larger. And larger. And larger, until the shadow of the descending attack completely blotted out Doflamingo's field of vision.
The Heavenly Demon looked up, and for the first time in years, genuine fear flickered across his features.
The fist falling toward him was the size of an island.
A mountain of compressed rubber and Haki, black as midnight, with enough mass to flatten Dressrosa's entire palace district. Gravity accelerated the descent, adding geological force to spiritual will. The air itself screamed in protest as the Kong Gun fell.
Sweat beaded on Doflamingo's forehead. His usual smirk had vanished entirely.
"You think a bigger fist means victory? How naive!" He thrust both hands toward the sky.
"Jūroku Hatsu no Sei Naru Shimatsu: Kami Koroshi!" (16 Holy Bullets: God Slaughter!)
Sixteen colossal strings—each wrapped in layers of advanced Armament Haki until they were black as volcanic glass—erupted from the ground. They pierced upward like the fingers of some buried colossus, each one thick enough to impale a Marine battleship.
The holy bullets met the Kong Gun with a sound like a thunderclap.
For a moment, the two attacks were evenly matched. Doflamingo's strings held firm against the descending pressure, their Haki-reinforced structure resisting compression. The Heavenly Demon's face twisted with concentration, veins bulging on his forehead as he poured everything into the defense.
Then Luffy felt the resistance and knew he needed more.
"Help me!" he shouted to his feet. "Give me strength!"
The sentient sandals—Kensei, the inanimate object that had consumed the Chikara Chikara no Mi (Strength-Strength Fruit)—responded to their master's will. Power flooded into Luffy's body in waves, tons of force channeling up through his legs and into his core.
Under normal circumstances, accepting this much external strength would pulverize Luffy's skeleton and rupture his organs. But within his own Domain, physical laws bent to his will. His body absorbed the power without breaking, and the Kong Gun's descent accelerated.
CRACK.
The first of the sixteen holy bullets snapped like a dried twig.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The strings broke in rapid succession, unable to withstand the combined force of Fourth Gear, gravity, and the Strength Fruit's enhancement. Black threads unraveled and disintegrated, and Doflamingo's defense collapsed.
The Kong Gun—a fist the size of a small mountain—descended toward the Heavenly Demon with apocalyptic finality.
Yet Doflamingo's expression showed no panic. No despair. Instead, his grin returned—wider and more manic than before.
"You think this is enough to defeat me?" His voice was a mixture of rage and exhilaration. "I am the master of the future world! The Celestial Dragons' will made manifest!"
His eyes burned with fanatical conviction.
"The Will of D stole everything from us eight hundred years ago! Destroyed the great kingdom and took what was rightfully ours!" Strings began manifesting around him again, dozens, then hundreds, forming a protective cocoon. "We reclaimed the world, and we'll do it again! God's enemies will be annihilated—just like we did to that pathetic kingdom!"
The Kong Gun continued its descent, but Doflamingo stood his ground, his laughter echoing through the alien space.
"Come then, Straw Hat! Show me if you can surpass eight centuries of divine right!"