Doflamingo expressed his intentions to Mork— he hoped to trade for Mork's weapons.
He didn't know who lived inside the fortress, but as an arms dealer, that didn't matter.
As long as he could secure the man's support, everything else was irrelevant.
Perhaps worried that Mork would refuse, Doflamingo continued:
"Sir, I witnessed your firepower just now—its destructive power shocked even me."
"In this world, almost no one can manufacture weapons of such magnitude.
Vegapunk is nothing but a fart compared to you.
Even Isaac pales before your brilliance…"
"..."
Inside the fortress, Mork couldn't help laughing.
No wonder this guy can walk freely between the underworld and the government.
It's not just his Celestial Dragon background—the man is a world-class sweet-talker.
"Yes! He spoke so well I almost felt proud!"
the fortress system chimed in.
Mork shot it a disgusted look.
A system feeling proud? Seriously?
Despite Doflamingo's flowery flattery, Mork still replied coldly through the fortress speakers:
"I refuse."
Just a few simple words—
but coming from the "Iron Beast," they carried an absolute sense of dominance.
In the distance, Buffalo and Baby 5 felt their hearts tighten.
"At this range… we won't even be able to find Young Master's corpse later…"
"Don't jinx it! Don't say something so unlucky!" Buffalo snapped.
"Young Master possesses the 'qualities of a king,'
a man destined to become a ruler of the world—
how could he die so easily!?"
Doflamingo himself felt his heart clench from the icy tone.
But he didn't intend to give up.
As a businessman, he was highly skilled at reading people.
And since the mysterious lord of the fortress hadn't blown him up immediately,
there was still room for negotiation.
So he continued:
"Sir, there's no need to reject me so quickly."
"Since you know who I am, you must understand I'm an arms dealer."
"Don't you wish to be known to the world, to make a name for yourself?"
"As long as—"
"Not interested."
Mork cut him off without a shred of courtesy.
Doflamingo: "…"
I wasn't even done talking—can you at least let me finish before rejecting me!?
The ruthless refusal left Doflamingo momentarily frozen.
He stood there, silent, brain buffering.
After a long moment, he coughed lightly and composed himself.
"Sir… even if fame doesn't interest you… what about money?"
"As long as you're willing to trade with me, money is no issue."
He seemed slightly annoyed now, slipping from "sir" to "you."
Mork didn't care.
Details like word choice? Too much effort.
Besides, Doflamingo was still standing there with his hands raised,
clearly showing submission.
Mork stroked his chin, then his eyes shifted—
and inspiration struck.
"I can provide you with some weapons…"
Doflamingo hadn't heard the rest yet,
but upon hearing those first few words, his heart immediately leaped.
Excellent!
"Sir! Whatever terms you have—speak freely.
I will do everything in my power to fulfill them!"
Excitement gleamed in his eyes—
though with the sunglasses, it wasn't visible.
Mork spoke with irritation:
"I wasn't done. Can you stop interrupting me?"
"Apologies! My apologies!" Doflamingo hurriedly said.
"Your weapons are too extraordinary.
Hearing you're willing to trade… I got overly excited…"
Mork ignored the smooth talk and continued:
"As for the terms—
bring me comic books, transponder snails with video playback, good food and drinks…
and finally, a giant ship."
Outside, Doflamingo—who had been smiling confidently—froze.
His mind blanked.
What… kind of demands are these?
Among them, only the giant ship truly required effort.
The rest were trivial.
But for the sake of these weapons,
he would have agreed even if Mork had asked for a Devil Fruit.
"Sir, no problem at all!"
"I'll have my men prepare these immediately."
He paused, then asked cautiously:
"Sir… may I see a sample of the weapons first?"
Inside the fortress, Mork immediately understood.
Doflamingo wanted to "inspect the goods."
He snorted disdainfully.
Such a petty trick posed no threat.
Business deals needed samples—it was normal.
"Fine," Mork agreed.
Doflamingo immediately bowed gratefully, mood soaring.
Behind his sunglasses, his eyes flashed with anticipation.
Inside, Mork instructed:
"Transmit a Small Gun Turret to him remotely."
Outside, a beam of light shot from the fortress, enveloping Doflamingo.
His nerves tightened instantly.
His String-String Fruit activated at once, invisible threads lashing out and wrapping tightly around his body.
In the distance, Baby 5 gasped:
"We're going to lose Young Master!!"
Buffalo panicked and tried to rush over to help.
But at that moment, Mork's voice echoed from the fortress speakers:
"Don't panic.
This is just delivering the weapon to you.
No danger."
Doflamingo froze—
then seeing he remained unharmed, he let out a long breath.
He gave an embarrassed laugh.
"My apologies, sir.
Your firepower earlier… left me with a bit of trauma."
"No matter," Mork said, voice cool and emotionless,
as if he didn't care about the earlier reaction.
Inside the fortress, Mork burst into laughter.
So Doflamingo's calm demeanor had been entirely forced—
he'd already been scared into developing psychological trauma!
Doflamingo's mental-trauma level?
Probably off the charts.
Mork coughed lightly, resuming his cold tone:
"Just stretch out your hands."
Doflamingo obeyed without hesitation.
And then—
right before his eyes—
a small turret slowly materialized in his palms.
Doflamingo: "!!??"
In the distance, Baby 5 and Buffalo also stared wide-eyed…