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The roar of the world press swept across the calm seas of the New World like a tsunami. The front page of the World Economic Journal screame
The roar of the world press swept across the calm seas of the New World like a tsunami. The front page of the World Economic Journal screamed in blood-red letters: "A WARLORD FALLEN! DOFLAMINGO CRUSHED BY HAWKEYE ON DRESSROSA!" A blurry but terrifying photo showed Mihawk, impassive, standing before the smoldering ruins of the royal palace, becoming an object of both obsession and fear.
Reactions erupted, as varied as they were fierce.
***
In Mariejois, the Five Elders gathered in their secret chamber, staring at a detailed report on Dressrosa. "Dracule Mihawk has crossed a line," one growled, his fist clenched around a quill. "Killing a Celestial Dragon… even a fallen one like Doflamingo… sends a dangerous message."
Another, calmer, tapped the table. "The Marines are weakened. Acting now risks rebellion. Affiliated nations are starting to question us."
A third, more pragmatic, sighed. "If he defeated Kaido in a duel… moving against him would open a Pandora's box. Contain the scandal. For now."
A fourth, eyes hard, concluded, "Send Fujitora. Have him retrieve Doflamingo's body. It'll show we're still in control… for now."
***
On Whole Cake Island, Big Mom's territory in the New World, Charlotte Linlin devoured a mountain of cakes, her booming laugh echoing through the throne room. "MAMAMAMAMA! This Mihawk… he's starting to get annoying. If he thinks he can play king, he'll soon learn this world only has room for one more Emperor."
She turned to Katakuri, who watched in silence. "What do you think, my son?"
Katakuri, unruffled, replied, "Mihawk's not a man to underestimate. If he took Dressrosa, it wasn't on a whim."
***
Elsewhere, on an unnamed New World island, a red-haired man with a scarred face flipped through the newspaper with a sly smile. Shanks, a mug of rum in hand, whistled softly. "Mihawk, old friend… you never do things halfway, do you?" He raised his glass, toasting the horizon. "To you, Swordsman. May the world shake a little more."
***
At the Revolutionary Army's headquarters in Baltigo, Dragon stood before a vast world map, his face impassive but his eyes sharp with interest. Sabo, at his side, whistled through his teeth. "Dracule Mihawk… he really cleaned house in Dressrosa."
Dragon nodded slowly. "An unpredictable player. He's upset the balance of power in one stroke. The Marines weakened, an Emperor humiliated, a kingdom freed by a pirate…" A rare smile brushed his lips. "The chaos he's sowing, even unintentionally, is a boon for the winds of revolution. Keep a close eye on him. Something tells me he could become a major flashpoint."
***
At Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral Sakazuki, his face as red and menacing as an impending eruption, crushed the newspaper under his fist, melting paper and ink. "MIHAWK!" he roared, smoke rising from his knuckles. "He struts around on World Government territory, and the Marines have to BACK DOWN?!"
Kong, the Commander-in-Chief, maintained a facade of calm, but his eyes were steely. "Mariejois's orders are clear, Sakazuki. No direct action for now. The Doflamingo scandal… it's too dangerous to expose. But ready the fleet. This truce won't last."
Kizaru, leaning back casually, murmured, "Ohhh… this is all so troublesome…" His relaxed tone clashed sharply with Akainu's fury.
***
In Dressrosa itself, the euphoria of liberation was tempered by tense anticipation.
Mihawk, true to his word, had immediately set to organizing the kingdom's defenses with Kyros and Riku, using his newfound authority and strategic vision to shore up weak points, distribute remaining forces, and establish alert protocols.
Korran dashed around like a madman, Perona grumbled at every new task ("Organize cannonball stockpiles? I'm a lady, you know!"), and Kiku was already sketching plans to reinforce the port's walls.
In this climate of vigilant rebuilding, a massive Marine flagship dropped anchor in Dressrosa's harbor.
A single man disembarked, clad in an Admiral's cape, cane in hand, exuding calm despite the palpable tension gripping the city: Fujitora.
He was escorted without incident, though under the wary, hostile eyes of soldiers and the fearful glances of citizens, to the royal palace.
Mihawk awaited him in the grand hall, standing by the window, his back to the entrance.
Riku, Kyros, Rebecca, and Violet stood back, silent, holding their breath.
Fujitora's measured steps echoed on the cracked marble. He stopped at a respectful distance.
"Hawkeye," he said, his deep, calm voice breaking the silence. "We meet again sooner than I expected. And under… peculiar circumstances."
Mihawk turned slowly, his gaze settling on the blind Admiral. "Admiral. Here to claim the body of your former protégé?"
Fujitora gave a slight nod. "Orders are orders. The World Government demands the return of Donquixote Doflamingo's remains. A matter of… protocol." A hint of bitterness laced his voice on the word "protocol."
A heavy silence settled. Mihawk didn't move, his probing gaze fixed on the Admiral. "And that's all that brings you here?" he asked at last. "Not the urge to resume our unfinished duel? To avenge the Marines' tarnished honor?"
A hearty, surprisingly warm laugh escaped Fujitora. "Hahaha! Truly, Mihawk-san, your bluntness is… cutting." He calmed, a smile lingering on his lips. "No. My orders are clear: retrieve the body. That's all. As for a duel…" He twirled his cane slightly. "Our last encounter adjusted my perspective on Warlords. Or rather, on a certain Warlord." His smile faded, giving way to sincere gravity. "Facing you again without absolute necessity would be sheer madness. And madness isn't on my agenda today."
Mihawk held his unseen gaze. "I'm no longer a Warlord. You know that."
"Indeed," Fujitora agreed, his smile returning, tinged with melancholic irony. "You've chosen a far more… perilous path. And heavier, judging by the weight I sense on those shoulders." He gestured vaguely toward the city outside. "Protecting a kingdom, defying Emperors, standing up to the Government… It's a burden few could bear, even with your strength."
Mihawk ignored the remark. "The body is in the royal crypt. One of my men will lead you."
Fujitora bowed his head. "My thanks." He grew more serious. "But allow me a warning, not as an Admiral, but as a man who's seen the gears of power grind to a halt. This truce you've forced…" He shook his head slowly. "Dressrosa has a year at most. Maybe less. The pressure from Mariejois is immense. Sakazuki is seething. They'll return. In force. And this time, no threat of scandal will stop them."
Riku clenched his fists. Kyros growled low.
Mihawk didn't flinch. His yellow eyes flashed coldly. "A year is enough. By then, Dressrosa will be ready. And anyone who comes to threaten it will face a fortress and a blade that won't yield."
Fujitora stood still for a moment, then a wide smile lit his face, tinged with strange sadness. "That's a claim backed by terrifying conviction. I believe you, Mihawk-san. And it's almost a shame…" He turned as if to leave, then paused. "Almost a shame I'm blind. I'd have liked to see the face of the man who speaks such words with absolute certainty. It must be… quite a sight." He gave another nod, deeper, almost respectful. "Take care, Greatest Swordsman. And good luck. You'll need it."
Without another word, he followed Kyros, who led him with stiff steps, leaving behind a hall filled with a mix of relief and renewed anxiety.
"A year…" Korran muttered, breaking the silence, his enthusiasm briefly dimmed.
"Or less," Kiku added, pragmatic, her fingers tracing the fortification plans she'd sketched.
Perona floated, arms crossed, her expression grim. "Great. Just great. One year to turn this pile of rocks into an impregnable fortress and recruit an army of monsters. No big deal."
Mihawk ignored their comments.
'Time is short.'