Dressrosa, New World
"I am here personally to extend you an invitation to the Holy Land," Elder Saturn began, his tone measured and his expression unreadable. "As the current ruler of Dressrosa, and with your nation being a part of the World Government, we would like you to represent Dressrosa at the upcoming Reverie."
It was a carefully crafted statement, but Doflamingo's piercing gaze suggested he saw right through the facade. Saturn knew he couldn't openly admit the true reason for his visit—that Imu-sama themselves had ordered Doflamingo's presence in the Holy Land.
If Saturn so much as hinted at a summons, the unpredictable emperor of the seas would undoubtedly refuse out of sheer spite, mocking them every step of the way. Such defiance would force the Elder and his peers to answer for their failure, and no one dared to test Imu-sama's patience.
"Fufufufu…!" Doflamingo's trademark laugh echoed throughout the grand chamber, its venomous undertone impossible to ignore.
"Elder Saturn, I always took you for a stern, no-nonsense man, but who knew you could crack such grand jokes? Let me make one thing crystal clear—Dressrosa isn't yours. It's my domain now. So tell me, what makes you think I'd even consider participating in that farce you call the Reverie? That glorified puppet show where you parade your slaves to remind them who holds the stick?"
The mockery in his tone was palpable, and even King Riku, seated off to the side, couldn't suppress the wave of shame washing over him. He lowered his head, the memories of the last Reverie resurfacing. Doflamingo's words, while cruel, carried an uncomfortable truth. The Reverie was less a gathering of allied nations and more a carefully orchestrated display of the World Government's dominance.
Elder Saturn's face darkened, his stoic mask slipping momentarily under the weight of Doflamingo's relentless taunts. But before he could interject, Doflamingo leaned forward, his grin widening.
"If this is what you traveled all this way to discuss, I suggest you save yourself the trouble and leave. That is, unless you're finally ready to tell me the real reason you're here." His voice dipped into a sinister drawl, each word dripping with mockery. "Go on. Indulge me."
Saturn's fingers tightened imperceptibly around his staff, his mind racing. He had expected resistance, but the brazen confidence with which Doflamingo delivered his insults was almost theatrical.
This man wasn't bluffing; he was daring them to falter. The Elder took a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice as he discarded his earlier irritation. His calculating, cold demeanor returned, his sharp eyes locking with Doflamingo's.
"Donquixote," Saturn began, his tone steely, "have your men clear the room. There are some matters best discussed in private, don't you think?"
The request hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown. Doflamingo's grin didn't falter, but his eyes glinted with a dangerous light.
"Elder-sama…" the Cipher Pol leader, standing close by, began to protest.
Saturn silenced him with a single glare, the weight of his authority crushing the man's words before they could leave his throat. The Elder turned his attention back to Doflamingo.
"Or is the infamous Heavenly Demon afraid to be alone in a room with me?" Saturn asked, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "If so, you can admit it. I'd understand."
"Fufufufu…!" Doflamingo laughed, the sound carrying an undercurrent of menace. "Oh, is that supposed to rile me up, Saturn? Well, I'll play along with your little game." He turned toward the assembled group, his expression sharp as a blade. "Leave us."
Unlike the Cipher Pol leader, Issho, King Riku, and Senor Pink exited the room without hesitation.
None dared question Doflamingo's command, especially in the presence of outsiders. Within the walls of Dressrosa, Doflamingo wasn't merely a ruler; he was an emperor in all but name. Any who defied him within his domain would be signing their own death warrant.
As the heavy doors shut behind them, the room plunged into an almost suffocating silence.
Doflamingo leaned back in his seat, lounging like a predator sizing up its prey. The faint flicker of purple flames danced along his shoulders, a silent reminder of the power he wielded.
"Well, Saturn," he began, his voice deceptively light, "here we are. No more audience. No more distractions. Just you and me." He tilted his head, the grin on his face turning razor-sharp.
"Now, why don't you stop dancing around the truth and tell me what it is that's got the great Elder Saturn crawling to my doorstep?"
Saturn met Doflamingo's gaze head-on, the room thick with the weight of unspoken intentions. For the first time, the Elder allowed a hint of a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth—a cold, humorless thing that didn't reach his eyes.
"Very well, Donquixote," Saturn said, his voice as smooth as a blade sliding from its sheath. "Let's dispense with pleasantries, then. The Holy Land isn't calling you for diplomacy or goodwill. No, your presence is required for something far greater. Something you may already suspect."
The tension between them crackled like a live wire, both men calculating their next moves as the room seemed to shrink around them.
Doflamingo's smile widened, his fingers drumming lazily against the armrest of his chair. "Fufufufu… Now this is getting interesting. Tell me more, Saturn. I'm all ears."
"Still playing possum, pretending you don't know why I'm here?" Elder Saturn growled, his eyes narrowing as his voice reverberated through the chamber like the prelude to a storm. "Your vanity truly knows no bounds, Donquixote."
Without warning, the Elder unleashed his Conqueror's Haki in a calculated display of dominance. The air grew dense, a suffocating pressure spreading out like an invisible tide intent on crushing everything in its path. The ornate crystal chandelier overhead trembled violently before crashing onto the table, scattering shards of glass and crystal across the marble floor.
Massive cracks snaked up the walls and raced along the floors as the room itself seemed to groan in protest. The enormous pillars framing the chamber groaned, threatening to buckle under the strain.
But Doflamingo merely laughed.
"Fufufufu…! So this is how you greet an old friend?" His lips curled into a wicked grin as he unleashed his own Conqueror's Haki, meeting Saturn's oppressive aura with a force equally unyielding.
The two immense wills clashed in the center of the room, like two immovable mountains grinding against one another. The resulting pressure obliterated what remained of the table, reducing it to splinters and dust. The windows shattered, and even the massive stone door groaned as if on the verge of crumbling.
The clash persisted for a full minute, the air itself crackling with energy as both men stood their ground. Outside the chamber, those waiting in the hall had unleashed their Observation Haki in anticipation of the inevitable clash. Marines, Cipher Pol agents, and even Doflamingo's own men waited with bated breath, each one steeling themselves for the moment the stalemate broke into open combat.
But inside, Doflamingo's grin widened further. His tone remained playful, but the chilling undercurrent in his voice betrayed the edge of his patience.
"Fufufufu…! I could keep this up all day, Elder Saturn. So unless you've decided to settle our differences right here and now, I'd suggest you reel it in. This little power play is starting to get annoying."
The room trembled as his words hung in the air, the menace behind them unmistakable.
Saturn's gaze remained locked on Doflamingo for a long moment before he finally relented, withdrawing his Haki. Doflamingo followed suit, his oppressive aura vanishing as if it had never existed. The once-pristine chamber now lay in ruins, its elegance reduced to rubble in the wake of their clash.
The Elder let out a slow, measured sigh, the faintest hint of weariness creeping into his voice.
"You've grown strong, Donquixote. I'll give you that." He adjusted his robes, brushing off the dust that had settled during their confrontation. "But enough games. Let me get to the point."
Saturn's expression darkened, his tone dropping to a near whisper, each word laced with deliberate weight.
"Imu-sama wants to meet you."
The revelation landed like a thunderclap. For a lesser man, such a declaration would have frozen them in place, their mind scrambling to process the weight of the statement. But Doflamingo merely tilted his head, his grin widening into something sharper, more dangerous.
"Fufufufu…! Is that so?" He leaned back in his chair—or what remained of it—completely unfazed. "You've piqued my curiosity, Saturn. But tell me…" His eyes gleamed with malicious glee.
"Why send you? Surely your dear Imu sama could've extended the invitation themselves if it was that important."
Saturn's face remained impassive, but a subtle flicker in his eyes betrayed his unease. Doflamingo's words were deliberate, each one a calculated jab designed to provoke. Still, the Elder maintained his composure, his voice steady as he spoke.
"This isn't a request, Donquixote. It's an order. But…" Saturn paused, his gaze sharp and calculating. "I know better than to think you'd respond well to commands. So consider it a… mutually beneficial opportunity."
Doflamingo's laughter rang out, sharp and mocking.
"Mutually beneficial? Fufufufu…! Let's not kid ourselves, Elder. You and I both know that when it comes to the World Government, 'beneficial' only ever flows one way." He rose to his feet, towering over the Elder despite the disparity in their ages. His aura exuded an undeniable menace, though his grin remained firmly in place.
"So tell me—what's in it for me? And do I look so naive…?Why should I walk into the lion's den when I'm quite comfortable ruling my little slice of paradise here in Dressrosa?"
Saturn's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, cold and humorless.
"Because," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "you and I both know that your games here are just the beginning. Imu-sama sees your potential, Donquixote. They see the strings you've been pulling—far beyond this little kingdom of yours. And they are curious. And aren't you someone who enjoys chaos and the thrill that comes with it?"
Doflamingo's grin faltered, just for a fraction of a second. Saturn caught it, and his smile deepened.
"Curious about how much you know… and how much of a threat you truly pose. And aren't you curious to see the one person who is truly in control?"
The tension in the room shifted, growing heavier as Doflamingo's gaze sharpened. For the first time in the exchange, genuine silence fell between them, the weight of the Elder's words hanging in the air like a guillotine.
Finally, Doflamingo broke the silence, his grin returning, though it carried none of the humor from before.
"Fufufufu…! Well, well. When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" He spread his arms wide, his voice dripping with mockery. "Tell Imu-sama I'd be delighted to attend. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
But beneath his laughter, his mind was already racing. The strings were being pulled tighter, and the game was escalating far beyond what even he had anticipated.
For a moment, even Elder Saturn was stunned, his mask of stoic composure slipping ever so slightly. The words Doflamingo had just uttered reverberated in his mind like a mocking echo: he had accepted. Just like that.
It wasn't possible.
The Elder's calculating mind churned furiously. Doflamingo, the ever-devious spider who wove webs of manipulation and deceit, had agreed without negotiation, without resistance. This was the same man who had gleefully mocked the World Government, defied its orders, and danced on the edge of rebellion for years. And now, he was willing to waltz into the Holy Land of Mariejois at their behest?
No, Saturn thought grimly. This wasn't acceptance—it was something else entirely.
Beneath the weight of Saturn's unease, the tension in the ruined chamber thickened. He studied the man before him, the smirking devil in white, and tried to discern the true game being played.
Doflamingo wasn't like the countless adversaries the World Government had crushed over the centuries. He wasn't predictable, wasn't bound by conventional logic or fear. He was something far more dangerous: a man whose ambition and cunning rivaled their own, a monster they couldn't fully comprehend.
The silence stretched, broken only by the distant sound of rubble settling in the aftermath of their Haki clash. Finally, Saturn spoke, his voice as cold and precise as the blade of a guillotine.
"You've accepted far too easily, Donquixote. What game are you playing now?"
Doflamingo tilted his head, his signature grin widening as if Saturn's question was a private joke he found endlessly amusing.
"Fufufufu…! Always so suspicious, Elder Saturn. Can't a man simply be… accommodating?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the splintered remains of the table between them. "Or are you afraid I'll pull on a thread that unravels your perfect little tapestry?"
Saturn's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe a man like you would accept so easily—without some ulterior motive." His voice dropped to a near growl. "What are you planning, Donquixote?"
Doflamingo chuckled, the sound low and menacing, like the rumble of distant thunder.
"Fufufufu…! Oh, Elder, you wound me. Planning? Me? Why, I'm just a humble ruler of a little kingdom, trying to mind my own business. It was you who came here with the invitation. Surely you don't think I'd have the audacity to plot against the almighty World Government?"
His tone was mocking, dripping with false innocence. Saturn's expression remained stony, but inside, his unease deepened.
"And yet," Doflamingo continued, his voice turning sharp as a blade, "it seems you and your fellow Gorosei are the ones plotting something. Summoning me to Mariejois? Bringing me before your precious Imu-sama? Fufufufu…! Do you think I don't see the strings you're pulling? For all I know, you might be inviting me there to silence me forever or maybe use me to lure my little brother."
Saturn's composure cracked ever so slightly at the mention of Imu's name, though he quickly schooled his expression. Doflamingo's sharp eyes didn't miss the flicker of discomfort.
"You're walking a fine line, Donquixote," Saturn warned, his tone heavy with menace.
"Am I?" Doflamingo leaned back, spreading his arms in a theatrical shrug. "Or am I simply playing along with the game you started?"
The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension between the two men palpable. Saturn's mind raced, weighing the possibilities. He had come prepared to offer concessions—promises of wealth, power, or immunity—to drag this unpredictable devil to Mariejois. Yet now, Doflamingo was walking into the trap willingly, smiling all the while.
Why?
What did he know? What was he planning?
Doflamingo broke the silence with another laugh, rising to his feet with a flourish.
"Well then, Elder Saturn, it seems we have an understanding." His grin widened, but his eyes gleamed with cold calculation. "You'll have your precious meeting with Imu-sama, and I'll play my part. But remember…"
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"When you dance with the devil, the strings aren't always yours to pull."
Elder Saturn watched him carefully, his expression unreadable. He had delivered his message, but he knew this was only the beginning. Behind his cold exterior, he couldn't help but wonder: was summoning the Demon into Imu-sama's web a mistake that would unravel everything?
*****
Fossha village, New World
The salty breeze swept across the golden shores of the island, carrying with it the cheerful laughter of children playing by the water's edge. The waves lapped gently at their feet, leaving darkened, glistening trails in the sand that quickly faded with each retreat.
A warm sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the scene, while the occasional squawk of seagulls punctuated the rhythmic melody of the ocean.
In a cluster near a fallen palm log, a group of children chattered excitedly, their faces glowing with energy and the endless curiosity of youth. The leader of the group, a scruffy boy with a mop of brown hair and a stick held aloft like a sword, turned to the others with an expectant grin.
"So, what should we play next?" he asked, his voice brimming with eagerness.
The children exchanged glances, their minds racing with ideas. Just then, a smaller figure stumbled into the group—little Ace, his freckled cheeks flushed from running. Most of the kids had grown used to his presence on the island by now, though Ace had a way of always standing out.
"Let's play pirates!" shouted another boy, his enthusiasm spilling over as he jumped up and down, waving his arms. "Pirates are way cooler than anything else!"
The suggestion was met with a chorus of cheers and nods, though one of the girls wrinkled her nose in mock protest.
"Only if I get to be the captain!" she declared, hands on her hips, a fiery spark in her eyes.
Little Ace tilted his head, his wide-eyed expression quickly transforming into a mischievous grin.
"Captain? I'm the one who's going to be King of the Pirates, so I get to be captain!" one of the kids declared boldly, puffing out his chest.
The group erupted into a lively debate, each child vying for their role in the imagined crew. Some grabbed sticks to serve as swords, others fetched dried palm fronds to use as makeshift hats, and a particularly creative boy tied a red bandana around his head, striking a dramatic pose.
"We'll need a ship!" shouted one of the younger kids, pointing toward the large driftwood log lying half-buried in the sand.
"That's the Fire Star! The fastest ship on the Grand Line!" Little Ace exclaimed, clambering onto the log with boundless energy, his arms spread wide as if already feeling the wind in his hair.
The others followed, scrambling aboard the "ship" with excited shouts. A girl grabbed a coconut shell and declared it the treasure chest, tucking it safely beneath the log. Another boy picked up a conch shell and blew into it, the resulting sound an eerie wail that made everyone laugh and cheer.
With Ace standing at the helm, stick in hand, and the others crowded around him, the group set off on their grand imaginary adventure.
"Raise the anchor!" Ace shouted, pointing toward the sky.
"Set the sails!" added another.
The children's laughter rang out over the shore as their voices mixed with the crashing waves, their imaginations weaving an epic tale of high-seas adventure. Even as the tide began to creep closer, threatening to overtake their "ship," they played on, their spirits unyielding, as free and untamed as the ocean itself.
As the game progressed, it drifted in the direction of depicting real-life characters. It was a tradition among the island's children to act out the tales of legendary figures, passed down from the elders of their village, where pirates were villains and the Marines were noble heroes protecting the innocent.
The leader of the group, a tall and scrappy boy named Tama, stood on a makeshift "platform" fashioned from an overturned crate. With a stick in his hand and a confident smirk, he declared, "I'll be Monkey D. Garp, the Hero of the Seas! Protector of the weak, savior of our island!"
The other children cheered, already grabbing roles.
"I wanna be Gold Roger!" shouted a smaller boy with wild, unkempt hair, who had earlier declared about being the Pirate King. He snatched a branch from the sand and swung it wildly.
"Gold Roger?!" Tama scoffed. "That's the bad guy! You sure you wanna be him? He's a monster!"
"I don't care!" the smaller boy retorted, puffing out his chest. "He's the Pirate King, right? That's cool!"
From the back of the group, little Ace watched quietly, clutching a smooth rock in his tiny hand, all his laughter and joy until now faded away. The other kids had accepted him into their games, but he always felt a strange unease when the name Gold Roger came up. His mother had spoken of the man often, with a wistful sadness that he didn't yet understand.
"Fine, you can be Gold Roger," Tama declared, rolling his eyes, "but don't forget, he's the bad guy. I'm gonna beat you and lock you up, just like the stories say!"
The children scrambled into positions, using sticks, rocks, and bits of driftwood to create a chaotic yet vivid scene. Gold Roger and his "pirates" began their rampage, pretending to burn down a village built from small piles of sticks and leaves.
"Argh, we're here to take all your treasure!" shouted the boy playing Roger, stomping through the "village" and scattering the sticks.
"No, stop! Please, have mercy!" cried a girl, pretending to be an innocent villager, falling to her knees dramatically.
"Mercy?!" Roger bellowed with exaggerated cruelty, swinging his stick and knocking over another pile of leaves. "I'll burn your homes to ashes!"
The scene shifted as Tama, playing Garp, arrived with his "Marines."
"Hold it right there, Roger!" he shouted, pointing his stick at the boy. "You'll pay for your crimes!"
The two groups clashed, waving sticks and shouting over each other. Little Ace found himself in the "Marine" ranks, but his movements were hesitant, his eyes fixed on the boy playing Gold Roger. The mock carnage continued, with the "Marines" ultimately "chasing away" the pirates, led by Tama with a triumphant shout.
"We've caught him! Gold Roger, your days of terror are over!" Tama declared, gripping the other boy by the arm and hauling him to their makeshift "execution platform."
The children gathered around, their eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and disdain.
"You thought you could destroy the world, didn't you?" Tama accused, wagging a finger. "But justice always wins!"
"That's right!" chimed another child. "Gold Roger deserves to die for what he did!"
Ace's heart pounded as he watched. His mother's words echoed in his mind:
"Your father was a kind man, Ace. He wanted a world where people could be free."
But here, in this game, his father was being torn apart. The children shouted insults, calling Roger a monster, a demon who had ruined lives.
When Tama mimicked driving a "sword" into the boy playing Roger, shouting, "This is what happens to evil men!" something in Ace snapped.
"STOP IT!" he screamed, charging forward.
Before anyone could react, Ace tackled Tama to the ground, his small fists flying with a fury that seemed impossible for a three-year-old. Tama yelped as Ace pummeled him, shouting incoherent words through tears of rage.
"You don't know anything! He's not a monster! He's not!" Ace cried, his voice breaking.
The other children froze for a moment, stunned by the sudden outburst. Then, one by one, they sprang into action, pulling Ace off their leader. Tama, now furious, scrambled to his feet.
"Get him!" he shouted, and the group piled onto Ace, fists and kicks raining down.
Ace fought back as best he could, his small frame no match for the older children. But even as the blows landed, his anger didn't fade.
Finally, the noise drew the attention of a passing villager, who rushed in to break up the fight. The children scattered, leaving Ace curled on the ground, bruised and bleeding but glaring fiercely at the retreating backs of his tormentors.
From a distance, a figure watched silently—a woman with kind eyes and a sorrowful expression, her hands clutching her chest as if to still the ache in her heart. Rouge turned away, tears streaming down her face, as she whispered softly to herself, "He'll never know how much his father loved him..."