"Doffy, there are nine of them in total. They're all here."
Doflamingo looked at the nine arrogant thugs standing before him, unfazed. He hadn't expected anyone to actually be dumb enough to take the bait. His gaze flickered toward Vergo, who still lacked the necessary political awareness.
What does Doffy mean by that?
Noticing the glance, the young spy-in-training scratched his head in confusion.
While the two exchanged silent looks, a short, round thug with a bloated belly stepped forward, his eyes filled with disdain.
"The so-called rising Donquixote Family? Just a bunch of kids playing make-believe!"
With that thought in mind, he stepped out from the crowd.
"Hey, brat, where's the money you promised? Hand it over, now—ack—"
Before he could finish his sentence, thick strands of silk shot from Doflamingo's palm, stuffing his mouth and cutting off his words. The thug's eyes bulged as he choked, his body thrashing violently in a desperate struggle.
Doflamingo's silent smile widened, twisting into something manic.
"No wonder they had the guts to attack a Celestial Dragon. Even if they didn't know who they were messing with, they sure don't understand their own situation."
The onlookers instinctively stepped back, their faces filled with terror.
"D-Donquixote, you—"
Doflamingo's voice was calm, almost soothing.
"Relax. This is just a little punishment for running your mouth."
"As for the brave ones, I do believe a reward is in order. Let me think… How about making your hearts bloom?"
Thread Bullet.
A series of sharp wires shot out from his fingertips before anyone could react, piercing through one chest after another.
Scarlet flowers bloomed in the air, staining the carpet an even deeper red.
"Rosinante, the stage is set for you. Now, let's see your performance."
Fuffuffuffuffu… HAHAHAHAHA!
Doflamingo turned to Vergo and Trebol, both of whom remained expressionless.
"Vergo, tell Diamante to move in. You two attack together. Surround them from three sides—kill as many as possible, and drive the survivors toward Rosinante."
"Trebol, let's go. Time to send Jason scurrying back to his trash heap."
The moon had risen high in the sky.
Doflamingo gazed at the estate in the distance—vastly different from the rundown shack he used to call home.
Jason's estate was grand, its brightly lit mansions standing tall, guarded by armed men patrolling the grounds.
The Jason Family had already noticed the gathering Donquixote forces. Their men had formed ranks, guns raised at the approaching intruders.
Jeremy, one of Jason's lieutenants, scoffed at the sight of the small-framed figure leading the group—a boy in a tailored black suit.
A child? Hardly worth being on guard for.
"The Donquixote Family? Hah! So, the trash of the underworld has started recruiting kids now? Listen, brat, at your age, you should be back in your mother's arms, suckling at her—"
Mother?
Slice!
Jeremy's words were abruptly cut off—along with his life—his chest pierced through by razor-sharp wires.
His lips barely had time to form the next syllable before he collapsed, dead.
Doflamingo spat on the corpse and swept his gaze across the stunned thugs, their expressions a mix of horror and incomprehension.
Then, in a voice both commanding and cold, he made his proclamation:
"I am Donquixote Doflamingo, head of the Donquixote Family. You have two choices—submit or die."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Bullets rained down on Doflamingo. He barely flinched.
Not a single shot penetrated his body.
For the past three months, he hadn't just been sitting around. The clothes on his back were crafted by Diamante using transformed steel—his first layer of defense.
Beneath that, a finely compressed fiber layer of thread covered his skin, dispersing force upon impact—his second layer of defense.
Ordinary bullets? They were useless.
As for Trebol, his Sticky-Sticky Fruit rendered normal gunfire meaningless. Every bullet that touched him passed straight through, leaving no mark behind.
Watching this horrifying scene unfold, the remaining thugs felt true terror.
What kind of monsters are these?!
Doflamingo sighed in mock disappointment.
"What a shame—you made the wrong choice. And now, it's time for your punishment."
He turned his head slightly.
"Trebol, let's begin."
Sticky Impact!
Doflamingo propelled himself forward using his threads, his body launching toward the enemy like a bullet.
Trebol followed closely behind, his body morphing into a massive blob of sticky mucus.
"Hmph. Weak and pathetic resistance."
Five Strings.
Doflamingo flicked his fingers, releasing five razor-sharp threads.
The gunmen barely saw the glint before their bodies were sliced apart—shredded into ribbons of flesh and blood.
Pinkish human remains slithered onto the floor.
The scent of blood thickened in the air.
...
Inside the inner estate—
Seven-year-old Jason Jr. sat at a grand piano, playing a soft melody.
Dressed in an elegant tuxedo, the young boy had an air of nobility.
Jason, watching from a distance, felt immense satisfaction.
He no longer remembered which of his thirty-six wives had given birth to this child, but as an ex-slave and former pirate, it hardly mattered.
All that mattered was that his son had the chance to become a noble.
Jason had even given him a name befitting his future status: Jason II.
At sixty-six years old, Jason had lived a long life.
How many of my old pirate crew can say they've made it this far?
Satisfied with his musings, he took another sip of wine.
Then—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The estate shook violently.
Jason's drunken haze vanished in an instant.
"F-Father, what's happening?!" Jason Jr. clutched at his father's sleeve, trembling.
Jason's mind raced. He could hear explosions growing closer. The very structure of the house groaned under the impact.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his son and bolted.
For an old pirate who had survived this long, it wasn't strength that had kept him alive—it was knowing when to run.
And right now? Running was the only option.
This isn't something my two muscle-headed sons could've caused… This is something far worse.
Trying to fight back is suicide. I'm too old for this. I just hope those idiots can survive on their own…
But—
He was a step too slow.
Sticky Meteor.
Exceeding Whip.
Two massive globs of mucus crashed through the windows, obliterating the luxurious décor and flattening the piano into splinters.
Then, a fiery whip struck the gelatinous mass—igniting it into roaring flames.
BOOM! BOOM!
The side walls of the mansion collapsed.
Jason shielded his son, dodging the falling debris. He turned toward the gaping hole in the wall, only to see—
Two figures emerging from the smoke.
A shadowed figure chuckled darkly.
"Kehahahaha~ Doffy, I must say… there's nothing more touching than the love between a father and his son."
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+100 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg