Loguetown, EastBlue
"Like moths to a flame… How many was it again? I've seriously lost count," Smoker muttered as he bit into a candy, his gaze fixed on the scene below. Seated atop the rooftop overlooking the old armor shop, he leaned back lazily, watching with a mixture of boredom and disdain.
Beside him, Lucci, Robin, Mansherry, and Leo sat in silent observation, the air heavy with the stench of blood.
The Meitō's on display within that shop were drawing fools from all over like a beacon of death. And despite the growing pile of bodies, the number of those who sought to claim it never seemed to dwindle.
"Seventeen, I think," Leo counted out loud, his eyes squinting as another group of would-be challengers approached the entrance to the shop. He shook his head in disbelief. "No, wait. That makes it eighteen."
Robin sighed softly, her eyes scanning the faces of the approaching men. "You'd think they'd learn by now. How many have to die before they realize it's hopeless?"
"Humans never learn," Lucci said coldly, his arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on the growing chaos below. His voice was steady, but there was a certain edge to it, as if he had expected nothing less from the world.
"Their greed blinds them. It always has. There's no greater motivation, no stronger poison, than wanting what someone else has. Whether it's power, wealth, or a legendary sword."
He glanced at the others, his expression unreadable. "The pursuit of what they can't have is what drives them to their graves."
Robin nodded, her face thoughtful. "Greed has a way of convincing people they're invincible. Even when death is right in front of them, they convince themselves they'll be the ones to escape it."
Smoker snorted, rolling the candy to the other side of his mouth. "Yeah, well, good luck to 'em. They're going to need it."
Below them, another group of men charged into the shop, determined to take the Meitō. Moments later, the unmistakable sounds of steel clashing echoed through the streets, followed by screams that were abruptly cut short. The rooftop crew watched with practiced detachment as yet more bodies fell, the cycle of greed and violence playing out yet again.
Mansherry, seated quietly next to Leo, clenched her small hands together. Her heart had ached when the killing started, but now… now she understood. She had tried to heal some of the dying in the beginning, her nature as a dwarf urging her to save them, but even then, they had spat at her, cursed her, screamed for the sword even as they bled out.
"Ross was right, wasn't he?" Mansherry finally spoke, her voice soft but heavy with the weight of disillusionment. "If someone doesn't have strength, they aren't even qualified to have a say in their own life." Her wide, innocent eyes had lost some of their shine, now reflecting the harsh reality of the world they lived in.
"I used to think… maybe there was a way to change them. But now… now I understand. This is what humans are."
Leo glanced at her, his expression troubled. "Princess…"
But she shook her head, her resolve firm. "I used to hate it when the people in our family killed, but now I see. They'll never stop. No matter how many of them die, there will always be more. More greed. More fools."
Lucci, his eyes dark as ever, nodded slightly. "You've learned an important truth, Mansherry. Weakness in this world is a sin. And greed… greed will always drive the weak to destruction. It's not our place to change that."
Robin, though quieter than usual, reached out and gently touched Mansherry's little head. "It's a hard lesson. But not all humans are like this."
Mansherry didn't answer right away, her eyes still locked on the carnage below. "Maybe not all. But enough of them."
Smoker stood, brushing the dust off his pants. "Doesn't matter how many more come. We'll deal with 'em just like the rest." He glanced at Lucci, a wry smirk on his face. "Care to put a bet on how long the next batch lasts?"
Lucci's lips curled into a faint, predatory smile. "Less than a minute." He glanced at Mansherry again, his voice low but sharp. "In the end, this world is a battlefield. If you're not strong enough, you're prey. That's the truth. Never forget it."
As the next wave of fools approached the old armor shop, the group on the rooftop remained watchful, knowing the inevitable conclusion. Death would come swiftly, as it had for all the others.
But now, the quiet acceptance that settled among them was far more chilling than the violence below.
Meanwhile, inside the brightly lit armor shop, my face stretched into a satisfied smile. Things had been turning in our favor lately, and every piece on the board was moving exactly as planned.
"We need to reach out to her, Doffy. She'll be a valuable asset for the future, especially with how weak our connections in the World Government are right now," I said, my voice low but firm, as the transponder snail relayed my words.
On the other end, Doflamingo's familiar laugh crackled through. "Fufufufu..!!! Fine… I'll have someone contact her discreetly. But what about that other asset of yours? They must be in the same place. Can't they handle it?"
"No, Doffy! We're not going to be reckless," I snapped, my tone sharper. "We can't risk exposing that asset. I have grand plans for them, and I won't let anything jeopardize that. We'll use other methods for now, but make sure there's no chance the World Government catches wind of this. Understood?"
"Hmmm… if that's how you want to play it," Doflamingo mused, though there was a trace of curiosity in his voice.
"So, have you decided what to do with those devil fruits you've acquired? I hear you got two new ones. " Senor was informed about the devil fruits that I had acquired one of them, the Paramecia-type, the Goru Goru no Mi, and the other as payment for a favor..
I leaned back in my chair, contemplating for a moment. "I'll send them over to you. You can decide who they go to. Maybe the mythical Zoan could be useful for Reiju—those types are not exactly easy to come by even with our vast network."
Doflamingo's tone turned thoughtful. "Alright, I'll think about it. Mythical Zoans have their uses, after all."
Switching topics, I pressed him on something that had been nagging at me. "So, did you find the Road Poneglyph that was left behind in Big Mom's territory?"
The fall of Big Mom had left her former domain fractured and divided, seized by various powers, but the one prize I truly cared about was her Road Poneglyph. Its value was immense, and while the others might be less important, this one was crucial to our future. I had tasked Doflamingo with finding it nearly a year ago, yet there had been no solid leads so far.
Doflamingo's voice carried a hint of frustration. "Well, little brother, it seems your worst fears have been confirmed. Someone else got their hands on that Poneglyph before we did. If it was still there, we'd have it by now."
My expression darkened. "Who was it? Any idea who took it? Moving a Poneglyph isn't something just anyone can do, which means the list of suspects is short."
Doflamingo paused, mulling it over. "It's either Kaido or the World Government. But I'm leaning toward the latter. The moment Big Mom fell, the race for ancient weapons intensified, and you can bet the World Government acted fast. They must've known she had Poneglyphs. If anyone else had it, we'd have heard by now."
I clenched my fist. "Unfortunate, but not unexpected."
The silence lingered for a moment before I changed the subject. "What about Zunesha? Or any news on Bonbori? I don't care how many resources we burn through—finding Bonbori is a priority, Doffy. We need it, and the sooner, the better."
Bonbori, the massive creature that engulfed Alchemi Island, was a vital piece of the puzzle. It had taken me a long time to uncover even a whisper of its existence.
Alchemi Island was something I had been researching since I arrived in this world, and while at first the trail seemed cold, I had eventually stumbled upon a series of ancient myths and rumors that aligned too closely to be mere coincidence.
If Pure Gold was real, and if it was part of this world, then it was within our reach. And we needed it.
Doflamingo exhaled, clearly weighing his words. "Zunesha's a ghost. No solid intel yet, but we've got eyes and ears combing every lead. As for Bonbori... we're closing in. The myths you dug up are getting more attention, and we've managed to track down a few old relic hunters who claim to have solid information about Alchemi Island. But it's a delicate game. That island isn't exactly on any map, and the stories of it being swallowed by the sea beast are making our search that much harder."
I nodded, though he couldn't see me. "Good. Keep pushing. If we secure Bonbori, it will change the entire balance of power. And I won't stop until we have it."
"I'll keep you updated," Doflamingo replied, the amusement in his voice never quite fading.
"Though I must say, little brother, you're playing a dangerous game. Even more than usual. The Elders have been too silent, and I have no idea what they are planning."
I grinned, my eyes glinting with ambition. "I know, Doffy. But isn't that the only game worth playing?"
He laughed. "Fufufufu… You're not wrong. Just make sure you don't lose. I'd hate to see all your carefully laid plans come crashing down."
"As if I'd ever let that happen," I replied, a confident smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "We're too far in now, Doffy. They've had eight centuries to build their empire, to solidify their power. But we're not here to win a single battle. We're here to dismantle the entire system, piece by piece."
I leaned back, my eyes narrowing in thought as I continued. "That's why we stick to the plan, Doffy. Every step we take isn't just for the immediate gains—it's for the long game. The kind of war we're waging isn't about a single victory; it's about tipping the balance of power so that, by the time they even realize what's happening, it'll be too late for them to stop it."
Doflamingo's laughter crackled through the transponder snail, but there was a subtle edge to his tone, one that understood the depth of the stakes.
"Fufufufu… I like the sound of that. But remember, little brother, the longer the game, the more chances for things to go wrong. One misstep, and all these pieces you've set up could come crashing down. So don't just go on and try to carry the burden alone."
I nodded, though he couldn't see it. "That's why we keep our moves calculated. No risks that we can't afford. We may be the underdogs now, but they'll never see us coming. By the time they do, it won't just be one empire that falls—it'll be the entire world they've spent centuries controlling."
And with that, the call ended, leaving me alone in the quiet of the old shop. But in my mind, the pieces continued to move, the grand design inching ever closer to fruition. Victory wasn't a hope or a dream—it was a certainty, one I would carve out no matter the cost.
*********
Wanokuni, New World
"Clang... Clang...!!!" The sound of metal biting into stone echoed through the oppressive silence of the seastone mine. Each strike reverberated through the narrow, damp shaft, the noise swallowed by the thick air and the weight of despair that clung to the darkness.
Gecko Moria stood hunched, his once towering frame now gaunt and disheveled. His skin, pale as death itself, seemed stretched too tightly over his bones. His eyes were sunken, ringed with dark circles from sleepless nights and relentless toil.
His once formidable size had withered under the brutal conditions of the mine—lack of food, overwork, and the relentless oppression of the seastone shackles that bound his wrists, robbing him of his devil fruit powers. His clothes were tattered, hanging loosely from his skeletal figure, soaked with sweat and grime, and torn in places from the jagged stone.
The air in the cave was thick with the smell of damp earth and rusted iron. Water dripped from the low ceiling, pooling into muddy patches on the uneven ground. The only light came from the occasional flicker of dim lanterns, casting long, eerie shadows across the cold stone walls.
Moria's breath came in harsh, labored pants as he raised the pickaxe again, his palms raw and bleeding from the strain. Blood smeared the wooden handle, but he barely noticed, his mind too consumed by a single, burning thought. His hatred for Kaido.
"Kaido..." Moria muttered, his voice raspy from the dryness in his throat, as he brought the pickaxe down once more. "Kaido..." The name was a curse, a poison that festered in his soul. The Beast that had taken everything from him—his crew, his pride, his dreams of becoming the Pirate King. Kaido had left him with nothing but the burning embers of vengeance, and it was that hatred, that desire for revenge, that kept him alive.
He hadn't given in. Not to the exhaustion that weighed down his every movement, not to the constant pain that wracked his body, and not to the despair that threatened to crush his spirit in this suffocating, godforsaken pit.
With every swing, Moria pushed harder, the hatred boiling inside him like a flame that refused to be extinguished. His body, frail and starved, was breaking down, but his mind, his will, was sharper than ever. He could feel it—his chance for vengeance would come. He just had to survive. He had to endure. Because as long as he lived, there was a path to revenge.
The pickaxe came down again with a mighty crash, and this time, something changed. Moria's bloodied hands gripped the handle tighter, and with a raw, primal scream, he felt his rage surge through him. He wasn't just striking the wall. He was imagining Kaido's face behind every blow, and with each swing, he grew more determined.
Suddenly, as if responding to his iron will, the pickaxe gleamed faintly. The air around him seemed to shift, charged with a subtle but undeniable energy. Without realizing it, Moria had infused the pickaxe with haki, the weapon becoming an extension of his fury. Though it wasn't advanced, it was enough.
CRACK!
The pickaxe collided with the seastone ore, and to Moria's shock and satisfaction, the wall shattered. Large chunks of seastone ore crumbled away from the impact, sending a sharp, metallic ringing through the shaft. For the first time in months, Moria felt a small thrill of victory, however fleeting.
He stared down at the fractured stone, his chest heaving, blood still dripping from his hands. He hadn't just broken the wall—he'd proven something to himself. He wasn't done. Not yet. Kaido would pay for what he had done. No matter how broken Moria's body became, his hatred, his desire for vengeance, would never wane.
In the cold, damp darkness of the mine, his eyes burned with an intensity that no amount of hardship could extinguish. He could see it clearly—the image of Kaido, the mighty Beast, brought low by his hands.
"Kaido..." he whispered again, this time with a dangerous smile creeping across his cracked lips. His voice, barely above a rasp, was filled with a venomous promise. "Sooner or later…I'll tear you down, no matter what it takes."
The cave swallowed the sound of his words, but they echoed in his mind, fueling the fire in his chest. The pickaxe, still infused with the haki of his rage, rested in his hands like a weapon forged by his suffering. Moria knew he was still a long way from escaping this prison. He knew he was still weakened, deprived of his powers, forced to toil in the bowels of the earth.
Just then, a voice echoed from the depths of the mine, cold and calculating, cutting through the rhythmic clang of the pickaxe like a knife.
"Not bad... I was sent here to confirm your fate, but it seems you're still clinging to it." The voice belonged to a man who stepped out of the shadows, his tailored suit immaculate despite the grime of the mine. His face was obscured by a painted mask, a sinister grin etched onto the surface, concealing his identity but not the menace behind his words.
"Gecko Moria… once a Shichibukai appointed by the World Government. How low you've fallen."
The agent's voice dripped with disdain, but Moria didn't flinch. He barely acknowledged the man, his focus still on the seastone wall before him.
The pickaxe came down again with a resounding clang, sending sparks flying. Moria's bloodied hands trembled with exertion, yet he didn't stop. The insult rolled off him like water off stone. He had endured far worse.
"Tch…" the agent clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Despite living a life worse than a dog, you still cling to that pride of yours. How foolish." His tone was mocking, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, as though Moria's defiance intrigued him. "Well, never mind that. My mission parameters have changed now that I see you're still alive."
Moria paused, his chest heaving with exertion, but his eyes—those cold, sunken eyes—remained fixed on the wall. His hatred for Kaido was like a furnace burning in his chest, and no amount of mockery from a Cipher Pol agent could extinguish it.
The agent stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. "Tell me, Moria. Would you like to escape this nightmare?" His voice was smooth, almost seductive now, offering something tantalizing. Freedom.
From the shadows, his hand morphed, transforming with a strange fluidity, until Moria saw it take the shape of a key—its surface glossy and white. In the dim, flickering light of the mine, Moria recognized it. Wax. The agent had a Devil Fruit power. The Doru Doru no Mi.
"I have the key to your freedom…" The agent's voice trailed off, and he stepped closer, holding the key-shaped hand toward Moria's seastone shackles. But before he could finish his sentence, something unexpected happened.
His body froze.
The man's confident expression faltered. His muscles locked, his movements halted as if he had been seized by an unseen force. Panic flickered across his masked face. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Slowly, the agent's eyes widened in realization—something unnatural had taken hold of him.
Moria's lips curled into a slow, sinister smile, his first in what seemed like years. "You didn't think I'd spend all this time rotting away without evolving, did you?"
In the faint light, shadows began to shift and writhe across the walls, creeping closer like living tendrils. The mine itself seemed to come alive, the darkness folding in on itself, drawn toward the agent like a predator to its prey.
The agent struggled, his eyes darting in every direction, but the shadows had already wrapped around him—binding him, constricting his limbs as though he had been entangled by chains made of pure night.
Moria loosened the grip of his shadows just enough for the agent to gasp for breath, his eyes wide with terror. He reveled in the fear etched on the man's face, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Did you not, for a second, consider why I'm here… unsupervised?" Moria's voice was low, venomous, as he slowly dragged the agent closer, the clinking of his chains echoing ominously in the darkness.
The Cipher Pol agent stammered, struggling against the invisible force constricting him. "M-Moria... you've awakened your Devil Fruit..." His voice shook, pure terror bleeding through every word.
The agent's initial arrogance was gone, replaced by the chilling realization of what stood before him. He had thought Moria was weak, bound and shackled by seastone. But people who had awakened their Devil Fruit abilities were a different breed. Even the strongest restraint could not fully suppress their power, not when their will was as indomitable as Moria's.
Moria's grin widened, his bloodshot eyes gleaming in the faint light of the mine. "Awakened, indeed," he murmured.
"My devil fruit is a very rare Paramecia type… You see, while you all thought I was broken, I had all the time in the world down here, honing my Haki, mastering the intricacies of my Devil Fruit." His voice grew darker, more malicious. "And you, my foolish little agent, walked right into the lion's den without even realizing it."
The agent's breathing quickened, panic setting in as he tried to move, but his body refused to obey. His limbs remained rigid, as if shackled by invisible chains—Moria's shadows.
Moria chuckled, a deep, menacing sound. "Now, shall we see if you truly have the keys to my freedom?" His voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with sadistic glee as he dragged his chains closer to the trembling agent.
The agent struggled in vain, every muscle in his body fighting against the shadows that held him in place. He had approached too casually, too confident that the seastone would keep Moria at bay. But now, face to face with an awakened Devil Fruit user, his fate was sealed.
"You might have escaped someone else," Moria continued, his voice dripping with mockery, "but unfortunately for you, I've had all the time I need to understand my power... and your mistake." He smirked as he eyed the agent's wax-formed key.
With a flick of his wrist, Moria began guiding the agent's hand—his own waxy Devil Fruit power now betraying him—toward the shackles binding him. Despite the agent's feeble protests, his hands moved on their own, unlocking the seastone cuffs one by one.
With each restraint that fell away, Moria could feel the vitality returning to his body. The weight on his shoulders lifted, and though his body was scarred and weakened, the dark flame of vengeance burned hotter within him.
His fingers flexed, power returning to them with every click of the shackles opening. His sinister grin widened, even as blood trickled from his wrists where the seastone had dug deep into his skin.
The agent's voice broke through in desperation. "Y-You don't understand! I came here to rescue you! The government sent me to—"
Moria's laughter cut him off. It was a harsh, mocking sound, devoid of humor. "Rescue me? Do you take me for a fool?" He spat, his tone brimming with disdain.
"The World Government doesn't rescue anyone. You're here because they couldn't stand the idea of a former Shichibukai rotting away in a prison. It's an insult to their power. They sent you here to eliminate me before I became a problem again." He paused, his voice darkening. "And now you've failed them. But then I have to thank you; if not for you, I may not have a way out of these restraints."
The agent's eyes widened in horror as Moria picked up the pickaxe he had dropped earlier. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it carefully, almost reverently, as if it were a treasured weapon instead of the crude tool it was.
"This pickaxe has been my only companion in this dark, wretched place," Moria mused, his voice eerie and distant. "It's fitting, I suppose, that it will be the last thing you ever see."
"No... please!" The agent begged, his voice cracking. "I-I can help you! I have resources! I have—"
"Help me?" Moria interrupted, his voice cold and devoid of mercy. "The only help I need from you is this key. And you've already provided that." His eyes darkened, and in a swift motion, he infused the pickaxe with Armament Haki. It glowed with a faint black sheen, a testament to the strength he had regained.
Before the agent could utter another word, Moria raised the pickaxe high above his head, his gaze filled with nothing but pure, unrelenting hatred. "This is the fate you chose the moment you stepped into my prison."
With a final swing, the pickaxe came crashing down with a sickening thud. The mine echoed with the sound of bone shattering, followed by the chilling silence that only death could bring.
Moria stood over the body of the Cipher Pol agent, blood splattered across the stone floor and staining the once pristine pickaxe. He rubbed his wrists where the seastone shackles had once been, relishing the feeling of freedom—true freedom—once more.
His voice, barely a whisper, broke the silence. "Kaido... I'm coming for you."
His eyes burned with renewed purpose as he turned toward the exit of the mine, his figure casting a long shadow across the walls. The world had forgotten him, left him to rot in the dark. But Moria was far from finished.
*****
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