'Pica, who had suffered from chronic throat inflammation for years, had been a self-conscious boy due to his unnaturally high-pitched voice. As the wielder of the Stone-Stone Fruit, a Paramecia-type that was close to a Logia, he was one of the few truly reliable subordinates. That colossal stone giant, standing at least 900 meters tall…
Considering that Mr. 3's Wax-Wax Fruit could create wax as hard as steel, Pica's stone construct shouldn't be any weaker. Based on the density of steel, its weight should be at least 100 million tons.
As long as he enhanced his Observation and Armament Haki to protect his real body and avoided opponents like Zoro—who had an unfortunate affinity for pinpointing weaknesses—he could wreak havoc on an entire island without fear against anyone below a vice admiral's level.
And then there was the cold and ruthless Vergo.
In the original timeline, eighteen years later, in 1509, he was already capable of full-body Armament Haki when he beat Rosinante on Minion Island. Yet thirty years later, in Punk Hazard, he was cut to pieces by Law in a single strike. Even accounting for the boost from the Op-Op Fruit, it meant that Vergo's Haki had barely improved in the thirteen years since. That so-called full-body Haki… was rather disappointing.
Was his Observation Haki too weak to dodge? Is that why he focused so much on strengthening his Armament Haki? Perhaps I should look into ways to enhance Devil Fruits instead…
But most importantly, I need to strengthen my own power first!
...
Morning sunlight streamed through the broken ceiling, casting a stark contrast of light and shadow across Doflamingo's face. His grin was bloodthirsty and filled with violent delight.
"The World Government… The Celestial Dragons… This time, I hold the future of the world in my hands. Fufufufufu…"
...
Three Months Later
Donquixote Family Headquarters
With rigorous training, proper nutrition, and the advantages of his naturally strong physique, Doflamingo had shed his small, scrawny frame and grown to a height of 1.5 meters. Beneath his red shirt, his muscles were well-defined and brimming with power.
Wiping away the sweat dripping into his eyes, he concluded his sparring session with Vergo—who, as usual, had a fried egg stuck to his face.
"Well done, Vergo."
"It's my duty, Doffy."
Even after three months, Doflamingo still couldn't understand how it worked. Every day, Vergo's face featured a rotating assortment of rice, cake, roasted meat, octopus… Was he secretly the human form of the Sticky-Sticky Fruit?
Stepping into the bathroom, Doflamingo peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt. Scars, burns, bullet wounds, arrow marks, and whip lashes crisscrossed his body. A testament to the depths of human cruelty and malice.
After a quick rinse, he donned his signature diamond-patterned sunglasses, threw on a shirt, and stepped out.
In the main hall, Trebol, Diamante, and Pica—reeking of gunpowder—had been waiting for some time. Seating himself at the head of the table, Doflamingo barely had time to settle in before Trebol, with his slug-like body, eagerly slithered forward.
"Nyeh-nyah, Doffy, we've taken control of all the scraps in town except for Michael and Jason's families, just like you ordered. They're not too happy about it. When do we take them out?"
With their current strength, the Donquixote Family could easily dominate the entire town. The four of them all had their doubts about Doflamingo's cautious approach.
"No rush. We need a little more time."
Pushing Trebol away—Doflamingo still hadn't gotten used to his habit of talking inches from people's faces—he turned his gaze to Vergo, who had swapped his usual trinket for a different bath cap ornament today.
"Vergo, Jason has a son, doesn't he?"
In the original timeline, Vergo had always been adept at intelligence gathering. Doflamingo had assigned him the role of overseeing the family's intelligence network. Given his current childlike appearance, it made information gathering even easier.
After all, who would ever suspect a ten-year-old?
Vergo handed him a prepared envelope and replied, "Yes, Doffy. Not only that, but Michael and his brother are also Jason's sons. However, Jason's favorite is his youngest, who's about the same age as your brother."
Doflamingo took the envelope, breaking the wax seal. Inside were two photographs. The first showed a shirtless, broad-chested man with white hair holding a blond six-year-old dressed in a fine suit. The second featured two identical young men—youthful versions of Jason himself—standing side by side with arrogant expressions.
Doflamingo's lips curled into a wicked grin as he looked at the refined, aristocratic-looking child in the photo.
"Fufufufu… how interesting. Jason, the bloodthirsty old pirate, trying to raise his own heir? Even aspiring to become a noble? I have a great idea. Why don't I give him a real noble son?"
His words piqued Trebol's interest. Excited, he flicked his ever-present mucus and grinned.
"Zehaha! Nyeh-nyah, Doffy, what kind of fun game are you planning? Let me handle it!"
"No rush… Vergo, how's my dear brother Rosinante doing lately?"
After establishing the Donquixote Family, Doflamingo had immediately gone back to invite Rosinante. As expected, he was rejected.
Aside from a few public encounters where he had provided food, Doflamingo had not visited him since. Not because he was upset about being refused. Of course not.
How could he be angry at his own little brother? Doflamingo wasn't that petty.
But what could be more entertaining than watching a kind-hearted soul fall into darkness?
It was merely an insignificant price to pay. Just a little bit of extra money spent. Fufufufu…
"Doffy, according to plan, Rosinante has spent the past two months getting beaten up regularly. However, recently, he's been discovered less often."
Doflamingo narrowed his eyes slightly.
'Is he showing up less frequently? Or has he already eaten the Calm-Calm Fruit, reducing his chances of being noticed?
Two months of violence in the slums should have planted the seeds of resentment in Rosinante's heart. It's time.'
"Very good. He just needs a little push to see the world for what it truly is. Before that, as family, we should offer some assistance. Send him a suit—without our family crest. Oh, and bring me his 'physical education instructors.' It's time to reward them. Right now."
"Yes, Doffy."
As Vergo departed, Doflamingo glanced past the ever-silent Pica and turned to Diamante.
"Diamante, you and Pica will keep an eye on the Michael brothers."
"Wait, Doffy, I'm not good at this kind of thing. Give it to Trebol."
"Fine, then Trebo—"
"Since you insist, I'll take the job! I'll keep them under tight surveillance."
"Hmph, hmph, hmhahaha! How reliable, Diamante. Watch them closely and wait for my orders."
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+100 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg