"RUMBLE!!!"
The earth-shaking roar was so intense that Trebol felt as though an earthquake had struck beneath him.
"What… what's happening?!"
Instinctively, Trebol dropped low to the ground, his slimy body trembling as he searched for the source of the disturbance.
But just as he lowered his gaze, he noticed the ground beneath him was collapsing. From the crumbling earth, several massive fingers, thick as ancient tree trunks, erupted upward.
Before Trebol could even react, those five fingers closed together, snatching him up like one would a slug, and lifted him high into the air.
"RUMBLE!!"
The sound grew louder, and from the depths below, a colossal figure emerged. A warrior clad in black armor, its horned helmet and blood-red mask gave it the visage of a demonic god clawing its way out from the underworld.
"Wh-what… what kind of existence is this?!"
The sheer enormity of the black-armored warrior filled Trebol's vision, and an instinctive terror clawed its way into his heart.
In the Donquixote Family, the top executive "Spade" Pica wielded the Stone-Stone Fruit, able to manipulate vast amounts of stone to form titanic giants capable of crushing entire islands.
Yet the being before him… this towering black warrior radiated a presence utterly unlike Pica's constructs. This thing did not feel like lifeless stone. It felt alive. It exuded power and suffocating oppression.
Trebol understood instantly: if Pica's stone giant ever clashed with this monstrosity, it would be pulverized in a single blow.
"Gulp…"
The sound of swallowing echoed not only from Trebol's throat but also from Doflamingo, hidden high above in the clouded sky. His Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily as he beheld the sight.
The creature had only half of its body out of the ground, yet its size alone was staggering.
If it fully emerged… would it rival the legendary Oars, the demon said to carry entire islands on his back?
"How… how could something like this even exist?"
"Even in a sea as vast as this one, there should have been rumors—some shred of information! Not total silence!"
"So this… this is the terror of the Hueco Mundo?"
Cold sweat slid down Doflamingo's forehead. Even as he muttered, he felt a twisted sense of relief. Accepting the Hueco Mundo's terms had been the right choice—otherwise, the Donquixote Family might already have been annihilated.
On the shattered island below, the massive black warrior lifted Trebol higher. A deep, resonant hum echoed from its body as a voice thundered:
"Are you the human who dared offend the Great Lord of the Hueco Mundo?"
"N-no! This… this is all a misunderstanding! Please, let me meet the Lord of the Hueco Mundo—I swear, I'm willing to…" Trebol stammered, desperate to explain.
He had prepared lines for this moment, rehearsed words to plead his case. But before he could utter them, the black warrior's voice cut him off coldly.
"Misunderstanding or not is irrelevant. The wrath of the Hueco Mundo demands blood. Your explanations are worthless."
Its fingers tightened abruptly.
"The only thing the Lord of the Hueco Mundo requires—"
"—is your life."
CRACK!
The sound of something bursting echoed sharply.
But hidden within the warrior, Yahn—who controlled the Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō—frowned.
That sound… was wrong.
He unfurled the warrior's massive palm, only to find not a mangled corpse but a splatter of sticky white mucus. Trebol's body was nowhere to be seen.
Observation Haki!
The warrior's head twisted suddenly, locking eyes on Trebol as he scrambled frantically toward the ships, his true form revealed—scrawny, hunched, hideously frail compared to his usual bloated slime-covered frame.
"Ah… now I remember."
Yahn recalled the truth. Among the four top executives of the Donquixote Family, "Club" Trebol was the Sticky-Sticky Fruit user. He could generate and control great amounts of mucus, usually encasing himself in layers of slime as both shield and disguise.
But Yahn hadn't expected he could use it as lubrication to slip free of the giant's grasp.
"Disgusting."
Through the warrior's buzzing voice, Yahn spat the word, and the massive hand reached once more to seize Trebol.
The insult enraged Trebol. His cowardly flight halted, and he whirled around, shrieking:
"Bastard! Don't underestimate me! I'll show you the true power of the Sticky-Sticky Fruit!"
He raised his clover-marked cane and pointed it at the advancing giant hand.
BOOM!!
Flames suddenly erupted from the cane's tip. When they touched the sticky slime coating the giant's hand, a violent explosion followed.
RUMBLE!
A fireball of orange-red flame lit up half the sky.
Trebol laughed with manic glee, his thin face twisted with triumph.
"Hah! Take that, you arrogant freak! Even steel would melt under this blast!"
But as his words fell, a shadow stirred within the inferno.
A moment later, a colossal black hand ripped through the flames and seized him once again.
"That little spark? At best, it's good for warming hands in winter."
The buzzing voice of the Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō echoed disdainfully.
The suffocating shadow of death pressed in on Trebol. Panic consumed him, and he screamed desperately:
"Doffy! Doffy, help me! Save me—!"
CRUNCH!
This time, there was no escape. The unimaginable force crushed him utterly, leaving nothing behind.
The giant flicked the remains aside casually, speaking once more in its low drone.
"Doffy? You mean that little pirate… Doflamingo?"
Its gaze lifted suddenly, the red glow beneath its mask locking directly onto the hidden figure above the clouds.
Doflamingo's heart skipped a beat.
"He… already found me? That fast?!"
Though shocked, he did not panic—he was high above, well out of reach, shrouded in clouds. Distance meant safety.
Or so he thought.
For at that very moment—
The half-emerged Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō drew its massive blade and swung upward.
A single strike, cleaving the heavens themselves—
Straight toward Doflamingo!