"Oh? What do you mean, Godfather?"
Doflamingo's voice was light, curious—but beneath it, a razor's edge of wariness.
Darren smiled faintly, his tone measured and deliberate.
"The World Government's so-called Shichibukai selection?" he said, exhaling a soft plume of smoke. "It's just a lineup of silver medalists. The true monsters of this sea would never stoop to accept that leash."
"We can't dictate who the Gorosei choose... but we can shape the options they're forced to choose from."
Across the vast distance bridged by the Den Den Mushi, Doflamingo felt an icy current ripple down his spine. It wasn't imagination. It was intent.
Pure, surgical killing intent—so thick it almost had weight.
Darren wasn't bluffing.
If the World Government nominated someone unworthy in his eyes... he'd eliminate them. Quietly. Efficiently.
With his mobility, firepower, and disregard for protocol, he could do it.
"The excess will fall," Darren said softly. "And when the dust clears, the most vibrant flower will be the one that remains."
"This is your moment, Doflamingo."
Doflamingo fell silent, eyes dark behind his sunglasses. He lit a cigarette with trembling fingers and took a slow, deep drag.
The Godfather's words didn't merely carry ambition—they carried a vision. And that vision unsettled even him.
A Marine Vice Admiral, openly defying the World Government... and yet still untouched.
"How can you be so sure?" Doflamingo muttered. "What if those five decrepit fossils still refuse me?"
"No, no, Doflamingo," Darren said, chuckling. "You've misunderstood. My godson doesn't ask for anything."
"We don't beg for thrones, Doffy. We take them."
Doflamingo's breath caught.
Take it...?
From them?
He knew better than most the vast, tangled machinery that upheld the World Government. Even as a former Celestial Dragon, he'd barely scratched the surface of their true reach. And he'd paid the price for it.
"Godfather," he said quietly, "I don't understand."
Still green, Darren thought, shaking his head.
"Doflamingo, strength is important—but so is leverage. Power is a blade. Influence is where you choose to swing it."
"You have what no one else in this sea does: blood."
"You are, by blood, a Celestial Dragon. Stripped of title, yes—but not of origin. That makes you dangerous. Useful."
Doflamingo's head rose.
Something flickered behind the dark glass of his shades.
"Go on, Godfather," he said, voice low.
Darren exhaled a slow breath through his cigar. "Use your name. Use your disgrace. The very thing that damned you... can be the thing that elevates you again."
"And that brings us to the real question."
He paused, letting silence settle in.
"In your opinion... what is the World Government's greatest weakness?"
Doflamingo blinked.
Weakness? The World Government?
His mind raced.
This wasn't rhetorical. It was a test—and not one he could afford to fail.
Darren didn't suffer incompetence.
A bead of sweat rolled down Doflamingo's temple.
He thought of the Gorosei, of Mary Geoise, of CP0, of the Cipher Pol hierarchy, of the Marines, of the God's Knights...
What weakness could possibly threaten that ironclad tower of global authority?
Then—
His eyes snapped open.
"Heavenly Tribute!"
The words burst from his throat like a gunshot.
Darren smiled.
"Exactly."
Doflamingo froze, then burst into maniacal laughter.
"Heh... heh heh... HEH HEH HEH HEHHH!!!"
His shoulders shook. His fingers curled into claws.
"Heavenly Tribute!! Of course!! That's it!!"
"If I take the Celestial Tribute for myself... if I seize the system's own blood-money—then even if those fossils loathe me, they'll be forced to accept me!"
"Because I'm one of them! Because I'm a Celestial Dragon! They can't touch me!"
Doflamingo's laughter tore through the Donquixote hall like a storm. His Conqueror's Haki exploded outward, surging like a tidal wave.
Had Darren been there in person, he would've sensed it: a sudden, violent uptick in Doflamingo's Haki—clear, unmistakable growth.
A response to clarity.
To purpose.
"Excellent," Darren murmured. "Now you're thinking like my godson."
"But don't get ahead of yourself."
He gave a final puff of his cigar, voice turning cool.
"Your next step isn't tribute. It's movement."
"Leave the North Blue."
There was a pause on the other end.
Then Doflamingo straightened, his voice heavy with respect.
"Yes, Godfather. Where shall I go?"
Darren smiled.
"I'll be waiting in the New World."
Click.
The Den Den Mushi connection cut out.
Darren tucked it back into his coat and exhaled a fresh curl of smoke, the sea wind ruffling his coat as the Marine warship surged forward beneath a blue, cloudless sky.
Hands in his pockets, eyes toward the horizon, he smiled faintly.
The Shichibukai...
His gaze sharpened, and he gave a dry laugh under his breath.
Weren't they really just the shichibukai... serving under the King of the North Blue?
To be continued...