"What are you doing!?"
"Courting death! Release Saint Shamlok at once!"
"Guards! Where are the guards!?"
The black-suited bodyguards froze, faces blanched. None of them had even seen when the masked man moved—one blink, and their young master was already dangling in the air by his collar.
They didn't dare rush in; they could only bark threats. The ruckus drew eyes from every path in the park. Celestial Dragons turned and, seeing the Figarland boy pinched in a stranger's grip, sucked in sharp breaths. Then the screaming began.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
"Notify the God's Knights—now!"
"Protect us!"
Chaos tore across the lawns.
Doflamingo slipped away with the surge. He still intended to remain a Celestial Dragon; being mistaken as an accomplice would be fatal.
Dimon's Observation Haki felt several strong auras racing closer—one of them even a touch familiar. He didn't linger. He stamped once; a five-pointed array flowered underfoot. Black smoke boiled up, swallowing captor and captive.
"Tell Grinco to prepare top-tier Devil Fruits if he wants his son back."
The guards lunged—grabbing only air. The smoke and its sigils collapsed, leaving behind nothing but a single paper slip, which one bodyguard snatched up with trembling fingers.
"What do we do!? Saint Shamlok's been taken!"
"Why is there a kidnapper in the Holy Land!?"
"We're dead—we're all dead!"
They shook like reeds in a storm.
A figure dropped from above—a woman in a face mask and military-cut jacket over an ultra-short skirt, cap cocked, a red scarf snapping behind her. There was refined arrogance to the whole ensemble.
"What happened here?"
"Lady Gunko!" one guard forced himself to report, then handed over the paper. "He left only this… and then the floor under him turned to black smoke and he vanished!"
That description… eerily like Imu-sama's power…?
Gunko unfolded the slip. A string of digits. A Transponder-Snail number.
"So—kidnapping."
Her mind flashed back seven years: a pirate crew bold enough to snatch Celestial Dragons on the Sabaody Archipelago. This was worse—an abduction in the Holy Land itself. And not just any brat, but the God's Knights' commander's son. Rumor had it Shamlok's potential was excellent—he'd inherited Figarland Grinco's strength.
"Teleportation… a kidnapped Celestial Dragon… it's that man."
—
Wano — Shogun's Manor
Dimon stood in the center of the pentagram and let the smoke peel away. He tossed the five-year-old onto the tatami.
"Wh-who are you? Why did you take me!?" Shamlok stared up at the blue-ogre mask, voice shaking.
"Quiet, brat. If your father shows sincerity, you go home."
He jerked his chin; Abel stepped in. "Keep a very close eye on him."
—
Mariejois, High Noon
The abduction rocked the Holy Land. Celestial Dragons were suddenly… uneasy.
Commander Grinco cut his external mission short and rushed back.
Pangaea Castle, Audience Hall.
Five old men wore five very different frowns. They looked at the man who'd barged in to demand answers and, for a long half-minute, said nothing. The vast room was nearly bare—three sofas only. Four of the Elders sat; the one with the goat stood.
"Who did this?" Grinco demanded again. "How does this happen here, in the Holy Land?"
The five traded looks. The blond Elder passed him a slip.
"According to the boy's guards, the kidnapper wore an ogre mask, but it should be him."
"A remnant of the Rocks Pirates. The Winemaker…"
"You're no stranger to the name," the mustached Elder said. "He uses a power… similar to Imu-sama's."
Grinco, the "moon-head," opened the paper—numbers. A snail frequency. He stood silent for a beat.
"What are his demands?"
"The finest Devil Fruits," said Saturn, touching his once-ruined right eye. Imu had restored his sight, but the memory of that pain hadn't faded.
Grinco's face tightened. "The tournament at God Valley drained our stock of top-tier fruits."
Common fruits were one thing; top fruits meant Logias and Mythical Zoans. Even the World Government didn't have infinite supply.
"The number's in your hand," the blond Elder said. "Call him yourself."
—
Donquixote Estate
"Doffy! Where did you go this morning?" his mother scolded gently when he slipped in. "They say there was a kidnapping at the park. It's not safe outside. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mother."
He spotted his little brother Rosinante reading on the sofa and shot the question that mattered. "Where's Father?"
"He returned and is in the study, sorting financial documents."
"What? He still plans to descend?"
Fury bubbled up. He'd worked so hard to stop that.
Mother stroked his hair. "With all this chaos, no one will process our application soon. We may have to wait a long while."
Good. Perfect.
Doffy fought to keep the grin from his face and nodded somberly. "I'll go to my room, Mother."
"Don't sneak out again—it's dangerous."
"Yes, Mom."
Up in his room, he clenched his fists; the mask cracked into a full, delighted smirk. Any kid who'd ever lived under a parent's thumb knew the thrill: fighting back and winning.
"I owe that bastard Dimon for this one… fufufu…"
"Show some respect to your big brother, brat."
A knuckle hammered his skull. He whipped around—Dimon again, impossibly there.
"Why are you here!?"
"I like the Holy Land. Think I'll crash at your place for a few days." Dimon dropped onto the bed, crossed his legs. "Hmm? Why are you frozen? Will coffee fly into Big Bro's hand by itself?"
Damn it, you came back!
Doffy's face went black. He opened and shut his mouth, then swallowed his pride. "You misheard, Big Bro. I'll… go downstairs and pour it. Wait here."
He didn't dare tip anyone off. He'd sold out Shamlok himself—if that got out, he was finished. For now, he could only walk Dimon's road to the end.
His mother blinked in surprise when he appeared in the kitchen. He's… pouring his own coffee? A miracle.
"What is it, Doffy?"
"Nothing. Suddenly wanted coffee."
"You poured two cups. Are we expecting a guest?"
"No—just hungry! Don't worry about it, Mother!"
He hurried back upstairs with both cups.
Dimon was on the Transponder Snail, speaking to a face stretched across its shell.
"There are no top-tier fruits left!"
The snail mimed the caller's fury perfectly; Doffy had glimpsed the man once from afar—that was Figarland Grinco's voice.
Dimon laughed. "No? Then your son has no future either."
A beat. Then, genial malice: "But I'm a kind man. Bullying five-year-olds feels a tad mean."
"How about this—" his smile curved under the mask, voice silk-smooth, "—I hear certain nobles in some lands… enjoy the company of boys…"
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