"What? Say that again!"
In a World Government office at Mary Geoise, a middle-aged, blond, blue-eyed fat man shrieked into the golden receiver of a Den Den Mushi.
His face, usually flushed with the easy life of a high-ranking official, was now drained of all color.
"Sir," the crackling voice on the other end repeated, "it's confirmed. The attackers were the World Pirates led by Captain Byrnndi World. They plundered the ship's treasures and Fine Iron before disappearing."
The fat man slumped back in his chair.
"Impossible... My tribute... my reputation..."
...
Two Hours Later. At the Attack Site.
The belated Marine branch warship, commanded by Captain Pearson Albert, arrived at the coordinates.
What they found wasn't a ship, but a graveyard.
The sea was littered with shattered timber, torn sails, and the ominous slick of oil and blood.
"Branch Chief! Look!" a lookout shouted. "There are surviving Marine soldiers over there! Clinging to wreckage!"
Without time for a thorough investigation, Albert ordered his men to lower the boats.
"Quickly! Rescue the survivors! The water is freezing!"
The various debris floating on the sea made it clear what kind of battle they had endured.
It wasn't a fight; it was an annihilation.
Pearson Albert removed his military cap and silently saluted the floating corpses of the Marine soldiers bobbing in the swell.
"Is there anyone still conscious?" Albert asked as the first boat returned.
"There's one, sir."
Albert approached the shivering, blue-lipped Marine soldier wrapped in a blanket.
He crouched down, his voice gentle. "Soldier. Which branch are you from? Who is your commanding officer?"
The soldier coughed up water, his eyes wide with lingering trauma. "We're... under Rear Admiral Zakri's command... tasked with escorting a shipment of Fine Iron to Mary Geoise."
"The ones who attacked us... were the World Pirates. Byrnndi World... he shot a meteor at us."
His mind could only recall fragments. The massive cannonball hitting the water, the terrifying sea vortex that swallowed their ship whole. He had survived only by clinging to a crate.
Albert was even more shocked upon hearing this.
He was no ordinary young man; Albert had been in the North Blue for over twenty years.
He understood the politics.
He knew perfectly well how deep Zakri's connections ran.
And Zakri was dead.
"It's over," Albert muttered, his expression turning very grim. "The North Blue is about to undergo a massive upheaval."
For the first two-thirds of his career, Albert had been a fighter.
But after a severe injury years ago, he had withdrawn to a quiet command.
Now, with most of the stronger Marine branches "mysteriously" deployed elsewhere by Raleigh, only his branch remained to deal with the aftermath.
Without a doubt, the impossible task of capturing Byrnndi World would fall on his shoulders until reinforcements arrived.
"Dammit! Those cursed pirates—we're not strong enough to handle a 400-million-berry monster!" Albert quickly took out his Den Den Mushi.
There was only one man to call.
"Get me Vice Admiral Borsalino. Now!"
....
At the Eryoku Kingdom Marine Base.
"Moshi moshi~" Borsalino answered, comfortably seated on his sun lounger, a steaming cup of black tea in hand.
"Hello, Vice Admiral Borsalino," Albert's panicked voice came through. "Something terrible has happened."
"The World Government ship... along with the Marine warship led by Zakri... they were just annihilated by the World Pirates near a deserted island."
"We're rescuing survivors, but... less than one in ten marine personnel survived. And there were no survivors from the World Government ship at all. They were slaughtered."
"Tch," Borsalino's lazy smile vanished instantly.
His expression turned unusually grim. "How terrifying."
If Byrnndi World had merely robbed a merchant ship, Borsalino wouldn't have cared.
But this? This was a massacre of Government officials and a high-ranking Marine.
The World Government would be so mad.
"Troublesome," Borsalino sighed, setting down his tea. "So very troublesome. I need to call Raleigh back."
...
Not far from the Kingdom of Eryoku.
On a deserted rocky outcrop, Doflamingo was bored.
To pass the time, he was practicing the basic applications of Armament Haki and Observation Haki, his fingers twitching as he manipulated invisible strings.
Raleigh, meanwhile, had found some shade under a tall, twisted tree.
He was resting comfortably with a blade of grass in his mouth, eyes closed.
Doflamingo watched him with clear disdain.
"What are you doing, you bastard?" he sneered. "Why are you wasting your talent like this? Sleeping while the world burns?"
Doflamingo couldn't understand Raleigh.
The man was a monster, yet he had the ambition of a sloth.
Raleigh rolled over, turning his back to Doflamingo.
"Hard work is the only way for ordinary people to narrow the gap with geniuses," he mumbled sleepily.
"But I don't need it. Because even geniuses are merely qualified to challenge me." He tucked his right hand under his head to get more comfortable.
"Fufufu," Doflamingo laughed, a bitter sound. "Sometimes I really envy your attitude. I can't do that."
He stared at his hands.
"The moment I stop growing stronger... I feel like I'm about to be killed. Like the world is closing in. To avoid that feeling, I have no choice but to keep pushing myself. To become stronger. To become a King."
Raleigh, who wasn't actually that sleepy, turned back over.
He looked at the young Doflamingo.
"That's an illness, you know," Raleigh said bluntly. "A condition called a persecution complex."
"Fufufufufu! An interesting explanation!" Doflamingo laughed wildly, the threads in his hands slicing through the air with sharp whistles, cutting the nearby grass into confetti.
"If that's an illness, then so be it! I'll be the sickest man alive!"
"Ever since that year..." Doflamingo's voice dropped, losing its humor. "When I was hung on the city wall... when those peasants shot arrows at me and nearly burned me to death... I swore. I swore that someday I would become strong enough that no one could control my life or death ever again."
After hearing Doflamingo's words, Raleigh sat up. He slowly applauded.
"Bravo."
To be honest, the tragedies Doflamingo experienced in his childhood were miserable.
A group of ignorant civilians venting their rage on a child.
However, Raleigh knew better than to pity him.
Such an experience had little to do with Doflamingo's nature.
Raleigh didn't believe that even if Doflamingo's childhood had been a bed of roses, he would have grown up to be a good person.
To be frank, Doflamingo was born cold-blooded.
From the moment he killed his own father with a pistol at the age of ten, the Pandora's box in his heart had been opened.
"You don't want others to control your life and death," Raleigh said, his eyes gleaming with knowledge.
"So you developed the Parasite String technique to control others' lives and deaths, right?"
"How..." Doflamingo froze.
He stopped his practice instantly, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"How did you know that name?"
The Parasite String was his secret technique.
He had developed it recently.
He had used it only a handful of times, always leaving no witnesses.
No one—not even Trebol—knew the name he had given it.
Raleigh just smiled without saying a word.
A mysterious, knowing smile.
For someone like Doflamingo, he needed to be kept in check.
Occasionally showing off omniscience, occasionally flexing muscles—these were good methods to ensure cooperation.
Seeing the mockery on Raleigh's face, Doflamingo's expression shifted unpredictably, turning from shock to suspicion to fury.
He knew the problem definitely didn't lie with him.
He hadn't told anyone.
'Either Raleigh guessed correctly by chance... or there is someone within the Donquixote Family secretly observing me.'
'Someone high up. Someone close.'
Doflamingo gritted his teeth. 'When I return to the base... I will thoroughly investigate everyone. No one is safe.'
Buru buru...
Raleigh's pocket buzzed.
"Ah," Raleigh said, picking up the snail. "Showtime."