The New World, a desolate island.
White threads, like the Grim Reaper's brushstrokes, formed a massive, ominous Torikago, locking down the entire island.
On the ground, a brutal battle had erupted around the massive Moby Dick, as large as a white whale. Shouts and cries of combat shook the skies.
"The scent of war... it's truly intoxicating..."
Doflamingo let out a chilling laugh, his facial muscles twitching slightly from overwhelming excitement.
He shifted his body to the side, dodging a slash aimed at his back from a pirate.
Pink feathers danced in the air as he flicked his fingers. The pirate who had missed his strike froze—his pupils trembled—and a sharp gash burst open across his chest, blood gushing out.
Blood spilled from the pirate's mouth and nose. He staggered, trying to continue his assault, but a hand had already clamped around his throat.
A blond face wearing strange sunglasses appeared before him, smiling with cruel mockery.
"Fufufufu... tell me, do the weak even have the right to choose how they die?"
Doflamingo leaned in close, his voice laced with an icy madness.
The pirate gritted his teeth but felt as though an invisible force had completely immobilized him—he couldn't move a muscle.
"Looks like the answer is no."
Doflamingo grinned. His five fingers tightened suddenly.
Crack!
The sound of bones snapping rang out. The pirate's head slumped to the side, the light swiftly fading from his eyes.
"Fufufufufu!!"
Doflamingo spread his arms wide, standing amid the chaos and laughing like a madman.
Around him, dozens of Whitebeard Pirates stood pale with terror, turning their weapons on each other.
Screams rang out. Blood sprayed in all directions.
...
Clang!!
Blades clashed, sending brilliant sparks flying. Sword strikes carved a web of slashes into the earth.
From the void, illusory roses wilted and fell.
"Flower Sword" Vista's twin curved blades danced like a whirlwind, slashing and thrusting. His swordplay bloomed like roses—flamboyant, fast, and fierce—targeting the young Hawk Eyes' upper and lower body with a relentless assault.
But the longer they clashed, the more shocked Vista became.
His complex and ferocious attacks were all effortlessly blocked by the brat before him!
Those piercing hawk eyes looked as if they could see through everything. It was like he had already read Vista's every move, countering each one with an unshakable calm.
The strange, jet-black broken blade in his single hand moved with a balance of agility and weight, as steady as a mountain.
But what unsettled Vista the most was the boy's composure—far too calm for someone his age.
"...Why would someone like you lose an arm!?"
Unable to break through and with unease mounting, Vista finally asked through gritted teeth.
Mihawk parried the furious flurry of strikes with quiet poise and replied flatly,
"To pursue the strongest swordsmanship."
With a sudden shift, he caught both of Vista's swords with a metallic clang.
"You're strong. As expected of the Whitebeard Pirates' top swordsman."
A smile began to form on Mihawk's lips.
Vista froze.
In that boy's eyes—he saw joy.
The kind of joy that comes from the thrill of the hunt.
...
Yellow sand burst forth, forming a massive, razor-sharp sword that suddenly rose from the ground.
"Desert Grande Espada!"
"Fujiazami!"
Surging blue-green flames gathered and compressed into a blazing shield, intercepting the desert sword.
Sand and flames erupted in a violent explosion. Crocodile and Marco faced each other from a distance, the wariness in their eyes unmistakable.
"I didn't think the rumors were true... The legendary 'Phoenix Fruit' really does have near-invincible defense and regeneration."
Sand swirled ominously around Crocodile as he stared grimly at Marco floating in midair.
Marco's arms had transformed into wings of vivid blue-green flame. His eyes remained cautious, fixed on the restless sands below.
At that moment, the land surrounding Crocodile for several hundred meters had already become a barren desert.
Scattered grains of sand leapt as if alive, hiding deadly dangers that defied belief.
"You're not bad yourself. To have developed a Logia to this level… you must be close to awakening, huh?"
As he spoke, Marco glanced quickly toward the distant mountains, his heart sinking.
From that direction, two overwhelming auras clashed violently again and again, entwined with black and crimson lightning.
Each collision roared like meteorites slamming into each other, sending out shockwaves that uprooted boulders and towering trees, tearing them apart and flinging the debris into the sky.
The sea of clouds broke apart with each impact, entire peaks leveled in the onslaught.
Chasms split open in the earth, bottomless rifts spreading outward. Fierce winds and lightning intertwined, transforming that section of the world into a living hell.
Marco took a deep breath, trying to suppress the shock in his chest.
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would've believed a Marine could raise their combat strength to such a terrifying level in just one or two years.
He was fighting Oyaji.
He was fighting the "strongest man in the world"... in a head-on battle!
Marco quickly withdrew his gaze and turned to Crocodile, his tone low.
"But there's one thing I've been wondering, Crocodile."
"A rebellious man like you—why would you take orders from that Marine?"
Crocodile's expression changed. With a boom, his figure shot from the ground.
"I don't take orders from that bastard!"
"My target has always been the Whitebeard Pirates!"
His furious roar triggered a sandstorm that completely erupted into chaos.
The whirlwind of sand faintly took the shape of a monstrous crocodile.
...
Mary Geoise, Pangaea Castle.
The atmosphere in the council chamber was suffocating, as if the air itself might start to drip water.
The Five Elders stood or sat in silence, calmly waiting.
One toyed with the katana in his hand.
Another sipped tea at ease.
A third crossed his legs casually.
A fourth stood with lowered eyes, unmoving.
And the last watched the pale-faced Fleet Admiral before them with amusement.
In each of their eyes gleamed a cold, mocking sneer.
"Kong, the World Noble Hunting Tournament represents the highest honor of the Celestial Dragons… Even members of the 'God's Knights' are often chosen from its victors."
"That brat Rogers Daren is lucky beyond measure to be entrusted with the security of such a grand event."
"It's a rare chance. He'll gain access to secrets that most in this world couldn't dream of knowing."
"This will be his opportunity to fully enter the upper ranks of the World Government."
"You understand that, don't you?"
The wrinkled, eerie faces of the Five Elders all curled into the same sinister, knowing smile.
"After all… you and Sengoku got your start the same way."
Clang!
Kong's face went ghostly pale. He staggered back two steps, unable to stop himself.
His mind surged with painful memories best left buried. Bloodshot veins spread through his eyes, his expression twisted with conflicting emotions.
"No... what you're doing... you'll destroy him…"
His blood-red eyes trembled, and he let out a deep, unconscious growl.
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
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