"In the North Blue... the darkest one of all is you, cloaked in justice!"
The man's laughter echoed manically through the vaulted chamber, madness and clarity interwoven in his voice.
"We—the so-called emperors of the underworld, the feared kings of the black market... All of us were nothing but puppets. Your puppets, Rogers Darren!"
His face convulsed in rage.
"You, who hoist the banner of justice, are more wicked, more ruthless than any of us!"
Captain Rogers Darren remained still. His gaze sharp, face calm.
A trail of cigar smoke drifted lazily from his lips.
"This world," he said simply, "has always worked that way."
This was the true world of One Piece.
The anime? A dream. Freedom. Camaraderie. Laughter. Firelit adventure. But reality?
Slaves in chains, their lives cheaper than dirt. Civilians torn from homes, families scattered. Pirates singing songs of freedom while burning villages to ash. Mafias gorging on suffering. The Celestial Dragons—"gods" of this world—executing people on whims. The World Government, decayed and monstrous, hiding centuries of truth.
And the Marines? Dogs on a leash.
Justice? A word. Nothing more.
Pull away from the straw hat fantasy and what remains is a rotten sea, choked with blood and lies.
Darren had seen it. Understood it. Long ago.
He couldn't change the world.
So he had to be darker than anyone within it.
The man before him stared, the fury on his face withering in the face of blunt honesty. He stood quiet for a long moment, then:
Darren raised an eyebrow.
"Once we've been purged, who inherits the North Blue's underworld?"
Darren glanced up at the chandelier.
"Donquixote Doflamingo."
The man blinked. Then chuckled. A slow, exhausted sound.
"So that's how it is..."
He sat up straight, buttoned his cuffs, adjusted his suit. Ran fingers through greased-back hair.
Threads zipped through the air.
Three mafia enforcers collapsed mid-charge, their bodies cleaved in two. Entrails steaming across the ground. Eyes frozen in confusion, fading to gray.
'Did they think blades could stop me?'
Doflamingo twitched a finger. Blood flecked across his shades.
He advanced, slow and confident.
Behind him, the Donquixote Family surged forward—swords drawn, voices wild.
Screams echoed. Gunfire. Chaos.
From the rooftops, five more enemies descended, axes raised.
Invisible strings seized them.
"My arms—they won't listen!"
"Stop! Don't—not him—!"
Their weapons swung with unnatural force. Five skulls split open.
'I control fate. Every limb, every heartbeat, every breath.'
'I was born to command. Born to conquer.'
'I am a Celestial Dragon. The blood of gods runs through me. They should all kneel.'
Dozens of threads twisted into a single whip and lashed forward, splitting an armory wide open.
The explosion lit the sky. Black smoke towered upward. Screaming men burned in orange flame.
'He said the underworld was mine. But even if he hadn't, I would have taken it anyway.'
'Because I am the one meant to rule it.'
'I am the king of the dark.'
Every step was death.
His officers followed, laughing madly.
Doflamingo's smile stretched wider.
'There is no pleasure greater than watching them suffer. Watching their illusions collapse.'
His body trembled. Not in fear. In hunger.
Power rippled from his frame.
Dozens collapsed unconscious.
The air warped. The sky churned.
'Rodriguez is only the beginning. I won't rot in the North Blue forever.'
'No. The Grand Line awaits. The New World awaits.'
'Where emperors rise, and kings are devoured.'
He halted before a grand mansion.
Rodriguez Michael's estate.
Behind him stood Trebol, Vergo, Pica, Diamante. The entire Donquixote Family. Watching. Waiting.
Their faces? Adoration.
Doflamingo looked at the gilded door.
His smile curved into something cruel.
'No one will stop me.'
He reached forward and pushed the door.