Totto Land, New World
The once-majestic Totto Land Archipelago was now nothing more than a shattered graveyard of islands, left in ruin after the legendary clash between Charlotte Linlin and Donquixote Rosinante. What was once a sprawling kingdom of islands had been reshaped beyond recognition, the very fabric of the sea warped by the unimaginable forces that had been unleashed.
The ocean itself had not yet settled.
The echoes of their battle still lingered, a force so raw that even miles away from the battleground, the sea still trembled as if afraid.
And yet, here they were.
A small fleet cut through the ruins of Totto Land's once-proud domain, approaching what little remained—a tiny, desolate speck of land, barely afloat in the chaotic sea.
Scarlett stood at the bow of the lead ship, arms folded, her expression unreadable as she observed the remains of what was once a thriving empire.
She turned her gaze toward Katakuri, his usual stoic demeanor unshaken, yet the weight of his past was evident in his silence.
"You sure you want to start from this wasteland?" Scarlett asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Katakuri said nothing.
Scarlett smirked. "You do realize, Katakuri, that I don't grant favors easily. Are you really going to waste the one I'm offering you… on this?"
Still, Katakuri remained silent.
Scarlett studied him for a moment, then chuckled.
"Hah… so that's how it is. Even now, you can't let go of the past, can you?" Her golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable—mockery, or maybe even respect. "You and your siblings… you no longer represent the Big Mom Pirates. That era is over."
Katakuri's silence was his answer.
Scarlett sighed. "Fine. If this is your request, then so be it. This will be the place where we build our empire."
She turned her gaze back toward the sea, observing the scattered fragments of land that still clung to existence—broken remnants of an empire lost to history.
Perospero stepped forward, arms crossed, his face lined with doubt as he scanned the devastated landscape before them.
"But how exactly do you plan to build an empire when there's nothing to build on?" he asked, licking his candy-striped cane. "These little patches of land aren't enough to support a single village, let alone an entire kingdom. What, are we planning to build a wandering fleet like Germa 66?"
Despite their reluctance, the Charlotte family knew the truth—they no longer had the luxury of standing alone. Without Scarlett, their bloodline would perish, scattered like dust in the wind.
Scarlett's lips curled into a smirk.
"Heh… have you already forgotten who I am?"
Without another word, she stepped forward. Her body began to rise into the air.
A faint hum filled the space around them as a strange, unseen force pulsed outward. The air itself seemed to bend under her presence, the ships beneath her trembling ever so slightly.
She descended toward the tiny scrap of land beneath them.Scarlett placed her hands firmly against the rocky ground.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
A pulse of pure, magnetic force erupted from her palms.
A shockwave rippled through the sea, unseen but felt by all. The very fabric of the ocean shuddered in response, sending deep, rolling vibrations that stretched for miles.
The Charlotte siblings barely had time to react before—
The sea itself began to move.
At first, it was subtle—a low, rumbling tremor beneath the waves. But then the ocean began to twist and churn, shifting unnaturally as if something far greater than gravity had seized control.
To their shock and awe, the tiny fragment of land they stood upon began to grow.
It wasn't just expanding—it was being forged.
Scarlett's magnetic power reached deep into the earth's very core, her influence stretching beyond mere surface metal. She was manipulating the metallic composition of the submerged lands, calling forth landmasses that had been lost to time, buried beneath the crushing depths of the sea for centuries.
What had been swallowed by the ocean was now being resurrected.
The sea raged against her will, resisting the unnatural force pulling the land upward—yet it was powerless to stop her.
One by one, massive chunks of submerged earth rose from the abyss, reshaped and fused together through Scarlett's irresistible command over magnetism.
Perospero and the others could only stare in stunned silence.
Minutes passed.
And yet, Scarlett did not stop.
What was once a barely visible island fragment had expanded into a colossal landmass, large enough to support a kingdom and beyond.
"Is this even something a human can do…?" one of the Charlotte siblings muttered, voice filled with disbelief.
As they watched the landscape continue to reshape itself before their eyes, they could no longer see Scarlett as a mere pirate. No. This was not a Devil Fruit Awakening.
This was something beyond awakening. This was the birth of a god's dominion. And from this place—this land that should not exist—a new empire would rise.
Perospero still couldn't believe the events that had unfolded—the cataclysmic battle that had reshaped the seas, the fall of their empire, and now, the birth of something new beneath Scarlett's overwhelming power.
His gaze flickered toward Katakuri, whose sharp, unyielding eyes never wavered from Scarlett as she continued to pour her power into the expanding landmass. More and more of her will infused into the earth, forging it, molding it, reshaping what was once lost.
There was no hesitation in her actions.
And that was what unsettled him the most.
Perospero leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Did we make the right choice, brother?"
The words felt heavy, laced with uncertainty. The Charlotte family, once among the mightiest forces in the world, had now sworn allegiance to another. It wasn't a matter of loyalty—it was survival.
Their pride had already been shattered.
Their mother was gone.
And their name?
Their name was no longer enough to command fear.
They had chosen Scarlett because they had no other option. But whether that choice would lead to their rebirth or annihilation—that answer would rest solely on Katakuri's judgment.
Perospero knew this.
The others knew this.
The remnants of the Charlotte family had placed their faith in one man—the only brother they still believed in.
Katakuri's response was immediate.
"Forget the past, Perospero."
His voice was steady. Firm.
"We can no longer rely on our name to rule the seas."
The words cut deep.
For years, the name Charlotte had been a force of nature, a warning to the world, a name that bent kingdoms and pirates alike to their will.
But that was over.
Katakuri clenched his fists, his eyes never once leaving Scarlett, who stood at the center of the storm she had created.
"If serving Scarlett ensures our family's survival, then I will gladly follow her—" His voice hardened. "—even if it costs me my life." And he meant it.
There was no hesitation in his words. No doubt in his resolve. For all of Katakuri's strength, for all of his power—he knew one truth.
Had it not been for Scarlett, their family would have been hunted down, one by one, like animals.
The thought alone sent a cold chill through Perospero. He had seen how the world worked, how fallen empires were devoured by vultures. Had Scarlett not intervened, they wouldn't be standing here now.
Katakuri understood that. And because of that, he would serve her. Not out of loyalty. Not out of gratitude. But because Scarlett was their only path forward.
*****
Mary Geoise, Red Line
The outer plaza of the Holy Land of Mary Geoise buzzed with activity, a grand spectacle unfolding in preparation for the Reverie. It was meant to be a gathering of the world's most powerful rulers—kings, queens, and dignitaries from kingdoms affiliated with the World Government.
But in truth, the so-called monarchs were nothing more than glorified puppets, their strings tightly woven around the fingers of the Celestial Dragons.
Their presence here was tolerated, not welcomed.
That was why they were confined to the outer layers of the Holy Land, never allowed past the gilded gates of true power.
None of them dared to question this blatant display of hierarchy—not because they didn't understand the insult, but because they lacked the spine to challenge it.
However, this Reverie was different.
For the first time in its long and oppressive history, an Emperor of the Sea strode through the heart of World Government power as though he owned the place.
Donquixote Doflamingo.
Dressed in a bold crimson suit, he moved with an arrogant swagger, his very presence mocking the false order of this so-called noble gathering.
He did not bow.
He did not hesitate.
He did not fear.
While others walked with cautious reverence, keeping their gazes lowered and their voices hushed, Doflamingo laughed—a deep, knowing chuckle that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared steal a glance at the infamous Heavenly Demon.
"Fufufufufu... It seems nothing much has changed since the time I was cast out from this wretched place."
His voice dripped with amusement, but beneath it lurked contempt.
Everywhere he looked, he saw weak men clinging to illusionary thrones, ruling over even weaker subjects. The same rulers who prostrated before their oppressors, knowing full well that their sovereignty was a mere performance—a privilege granted at the whims of those who sat above them.
Doflamingo had seen it all before.
Kings who abused their power without restraint—pillaging, enslaving, and slaughtering without consequence—because they knew they had the blessing of their divine overlords.
And yet, these very same kings trembled at the sight of a true ruler.
An Emperor.
None dared to meet his gaze for long.
They stole fleeting glances, whispering hurriedly to one another before quickly looking away, as if making eye contact with him would spell their doom.
After all, what kind of man walked willingly into the lion's den of the World Government?
What was Doflamingo's game?
But none dared to voice the question aloud.
The further they distanced themselves from him, the safer they believed they were.
A CP0 agent, clad in pristine white, who had escorted him, stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Donquixote-sama, would you like me to escort you to the guest quarters arranged for you and your aide? Or perhaps… you would prefer to take part in the Reverie meeting?"
Her tone was measured, almost reverent—as though she was addressing royalty.
"The Elders have granted you the authority to oversee this gathering. If you wish, you may even represent them."
Doflamingo's smirk widened.
"Oh?"
The Elders were pulling out all the stops, showering him with favor after favor, desperate to bring him into their fold.
To bribe him with power.
A seat at the table that only the gods were meant to occupy.
But he wasn't fooled.
"Fufufufufu... You people must be truly desperate if you're offering me scraps like this."
He shook his head, amusement gleaming behind his tinted glasses.
These fools thought they could entice him with the illusion of control.
They thought he still cared about the status quo of the Celestial Dragons.
But Doflamingo had long outgrown this place.
This was no longer his home.
This was a den of decaying gods, desperately clinging to power that was slipping through their fingers.
As for him?
He was no longer a disgraced noble begging to reclaim his status. He was something far greater. And he had come to rewrite the game.
A sudden commotion near one of the gates leading deeper into Mary Geoise quickly drew the attention of the gathered rulers from across the world.
However, the moment they caught sight of who stood at the center of the chaos, fear gripped their hearts.
A Celestial Dragon stood surrounded by his entourage of attendants and bodyguards, his bloated form barely contained within the pristine, opulent glass suit that encased his entire body. Fat, pale, and repulsive, his pale skin glistened under the artificial lights of the Holy Land, and his bulging, beady eyes, filled with unrestrained lust and arrogance, were fixated on only one thing—Queen Otohime.
By his side, a small platoon of armed guards and Cipher Pol agents stood at attention, their faces blank and expressions dead, a perfect reflection of mindless obedience. Behind them, a group of wretched slaves, shackled and collared, crawled on their hands and knees, trembling with silent misery. Some were missing limbs, others bore fresh whip wounds, their bodies living proof of the Celestial Dragon's cruelty.
Yet, despite the horrifying spectacle before them, the gathered kings and queens—the supposed rulers of the world—turned away in willful ignorance. They knew better than to interfere.
Even as monarchs, their power meant nothing before the whims of the Celestial Dragons. To defy them was to invite death—a fate none of them wished to share.
At the heart of the conflict, King Neptune of Fishman Island stood his ground, his massive frame towering over the armed men surrounding him. His muscular arms gripped his trident, its tips shimmering with blackened Haki, poised in a defensive stance as he shielded his beloved Queen Otohime.
By his side, two loyal Fishmen warriors flanked the Queen, their expressions fierce, bodies coiled like tensed springs, ready to fight to the death if necessary.
They were outnumbered—half a dozen against over two dozen—a mix of World Government soldiers and the Cipher Pol agents.
Yet, to these so-called enforcers of justice, it was never a battle to begin with.
Because the moment the Celestial Dragon had spoken, the outcome had already been decided.
To them, his word was absolute law—a commandment from a self-proclaimed god.
And the Queen of Fishman Island? Her status meant nothing.
To them, she was not a ruler, not a diplomat, not a representative of an allied kingdom—she was merely a mermaid, a creature to be owned, toyed with, and discarded at his leisure.
Neptune's deep voice bellowed through the plaza, his tone laced with fury and disbelief.
"Is this how the world government treats its guests?! We have come as envoys—to represent the Fishman Kingdom in this Reverie! Yet you dare disgrace us in such a way?!"
With a mighty swing of his Haki-clad trident, he struck the ground, sending a shockwave through the marble plaza, forcing the encroaching soldiers to halt their advance.
Yet, despite the overwhelming hostility surrounding her, Queen Otohime, ever the pacifist, refused to give up hope.
With desperation in her voice, she pleaded once more.
"Please! We came in peace! We only wish to build a bridge between our people—to end the hatred between humans and Fishmen!"
Her golden eyes glimmered with sincerity, but her words fell on deaf ears.
The Celestial Dragon, whose name none even dared to utter, sneered from within his glass bubble, his twisted smirk revealing white, vibrant teeth.
His beady, ravenous eyes scanned Otohime's delicate mermaid form, lingering far too long on her graceful features, his breathing growing heavier, his lust now fully unrestrained.
"Heheheh… you really don't understand your place, do you, mermaid bitch?"
His voice was nasal, sickly sweet with cruelty, like a spoiled child who had just laid claim to a new toy.
"You should be honored, really! I have deemed you worthy to serve me—ME! A god!"
He licked his smooth lips, his pupils dilating with perverse hunger.
"Bring her to me. Now."
His voice darkened, taking on a chilling finality.
The soldiers hesitated, their uncertainty flickering for just a moment. Kidnapping an allied kingdom's queen in broad daylight—especially during Reverie—was a move far too bold, even by their standards.
But then… the Celestial Dragon's expression twisted into something uglier.
His patience was at its limit.
"You BASTARDS!" he screeched, his face contorting in pure rage.
"Did I stutter?! I told you to CAPTURE HER! Kill anyone who stands in the way!"
His high-pitched wail rang across the plaza, his entire bloated form trembling in uncontained wrath and entitlement.
"It is HER BLESSING to be my plaything! Do you understand, you pathetic worms?! EVERYTHING in this world belongs to us Celestial Dragons, whose veins the blood of gods flows!"
His pudgy fists, bloated with indulgence and unchecked power, slammed into the frail face of a young serving slave girl, his frustration spilling over in an act of mindless cruelty. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the plaza as her tiny body was sent hurtling through the air, crashing against the cold marble floor with a dull thud.
She did not scream.
She did not cry.
She simply lay there—motionless, a broken doll discarded by its master.
Yet, not a single soul reacted.
The nobles, the guards, even the other slaves—all remained silent, their eyes either averted or empty, as if this was nothing more than a mundane occurrence, a passing inconvenience in the life of those who served beneath the so-called gods.
The Celestial Dragon merely huffed, his beady eyes still locked onto Queen Otohime, his rage unabated, his desires unfulfilled.
To him, the girl he had just struck was of no more significance than a speck of dust beneath his polished boots—an object, a tool, something to be used and discarded without a second thought.
His patience was wearing thin.
And when a god's patience ran out, the world suffered for it.
The agents and soldiers knew that disobeying would mean certain death—not from an enemy, but from their own godly master.
And so, with grim resolution, they raised their weapons once more, ready to fulfill their duty—to enforce the will of the gods.
Neptune gritted his teeth, his massive frame tensing, knowing that the moment steel met steel, there would be no turning back.
Just as the World Government soldiers and Cipher Pol agents were about to descend upon the Fishman delegation, chaos moments away from erupting, a cold yet commanding voice sliced through the tension, sending a shiver down the spines of those present.
"Fufufufufu… There never seems to be a dull day within these cursed walls, does there? Now, what do we have here? One of my many kin causing trouble again?"
The soft, deliberate clicks of polished shoes against the marble floor echoed unnaturally loud in the eerie silence that followed. A ripple of unease spread through the assembled soldiers, agents, and even the kings and queens who had been mere spectators a moment ago.
Donquixote Doflamingo had arrived.
The CP0 agent assigned to escort him instinctively moved to intercept, knowing full well how volatile this man was. Every briefing she had received about dealing with Doflamingo had emphasized the same thing: Caution.
"Donquixote-sama, perhaps we should leave this matter to be handled by the appropriate authorities and proceed to your guest quarters—"
Her words were cut off as Doflamingo brushed past her effortlessly, knocking her aside with a mere flick of his wrist. Despite activating Tekkai—a technique that should have turned her body into an immovable wall—she was still sent stumbling back.
A flicker of frustration crossed her normally composed face—not just at her own weakness but at the gulf of power that separated them. And knowing Doflamingo's nature, she could already see it in his devilish smirk—he was eager to stir the pot.
As he strode past the intimidated ranks of soldiers and agents, the tension in the air thickened. Despite their superior numbers, many found themselves instinctively stepping back, an action beyond their control.
For the first time in years, they felt something foreign—fear.
Doflamingo radiated it effortlessly.
His very presence carried an authority that overshadowed even the Celestial Dragon at the heart of this confrontation. The so-called "gods of the world" may have held titles, but before the Heavenly Demon, they were nothing more than spineless worms, clinging to power they had never earned.
Even the CP0 agent, ever-loyal to the World Government, couldn't help but watch in silence.
"This… is what a true dragon looks like."
Not the sniveling, trembling fool currently shaking in his glass suit as Doflamingo made his entrance.
"Oh? If it isn't Queen Otohime herself."
Doflamingo's smirk widened, his rose-tinted shades glinting under the sunlight as he took in the sight of the Fishman Queen, now visibly tense.
"It seems like you're in quite a bind, Your Majesty."
Even King Neptune, a warrior feared for his strength, felt the oppressive weight lift slightly at Doflamingo's arrival. Their two nations had always maintained a lucrative trade alliance, and for a brief second, he dared to hope that Doflamingo's intervention was meant to aid them.
But that hope was quickly shattered with Doflamingo's next words.
"Oh, don't mind me," he waved a carefree hand, mock amusement dripping from his tone.
"I'm simply here to spectate."
Then, his gaze locked onto Otohime, the intensity of his stare making her heart sink.
"You know, Queen Otohime…" he leaned forward slightly, his tone turning mockingly thoughtful. "Sometimes, reality gives you the harshest lessons."
Otohime's face paled.
"The last time you visited Dressrosa," he continued, his grin stretching wider, "I warned you of this exact situation."
The memory stabbed into her like a dagger.
Back then, Doflamingo had scoffed at her idealistic dreams of coexistence, of bridging the gap between fishmen and humans. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that the world was built on power, not goodwill.
And now—this—was the reality she had walked into.
"It seems you ignored my advice," he sighed, shaking his head with feigned disappointment. "And now, I truly wish to see how you plan to talk your way out of this mess."
His voice dripped with amusement, yet beneath the surface was an undeniable edge—a cold reminder of how cruel this world truly was.
"After all," Doflamingo chuckled as he casually lowered himself into a chair woven entirely from razor-sharp threads, conjured effortlessly from Senor's String-String Fruit, who acted even before Doflamingo gave a command, "Don't you always preach that if one is willing to let go of past grievances, coexistence is possible?"
Otohime's hands clenched into trembling fists.
"So, tell me, Your Majesty…" He leaned back, lacing his fingers together, "Can you truly achieve such a miracle now?"
His grin widened as he watched her face shift between fear, hope, and despair.
For Doflamingo, this was pure entertainment. A brutal lesson she needed to learn. And he intended to enjoy every second of it.