The private training grounds stretched across the cliffside, overlooking the endless blue. Once, it had been a masterpiece of living beauty—a garden of blossoms gathered from every sea of the Grand Line, lovingly tended by the nimble hands of the Tontatta tribe. Sakura from Wano, flame lilies from Alabasta, and blue hydrangeas from West Blue—they had all bloomed together here, swaying in tranquil harmony under the salt-kissed wind.
Now, all that serenity lay in ruin.
The land was torn asunder—its soil blackened and steaming, its blossoms reduced to drifting ash. The air crackled with residual energy, flickering with stray arcs of crimson lightning and ghostly tongues of black flame that refused to die. Craters marred the once-flat earth, and the cliff edge was carved with deep fissures that bled molten rock into the sea below.
The training ground had become a war zone.
"Ptui…!"
Doflamingo spat blood onto the charred earth, his breath ragged, the usual grin on his face twisted into a grimace. His sunglasses hung cracked on the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting the stormy horizon. He dragged a sleeve across his mouth, smearing the blood, the other hand pressed against his abdomen — the point where the last strike had landed. He could feel it still: that strange, draining pressure that seeped past his haki, leeching at his energy from within.
The hit hadn't just hurt — it had stolen from him.
He chuckled through the pain, the sound low and rough. "Fufufufu… You're not planning to hold back even a little, are you?"
The moment he laughed, another jolt of pain shot through him, forcing him to hiss through clenched teeth. His body trembled, the black fire armor around his shoulders flickering unstable, veins throbbing with overexertion.
I stood opposite him, steam rising from my fists, eyes sharp and unrelenting. "You want me to coddle you, Doffy?" I said, my tone halfway between teasing and command. "If you wanted an easy spar, you should've picked a punching bag — not me."
The air between us warped with the clash of our auras, invisible pressure rolling like waves across the shattered earth.
"I told you," I continued, stepping forward, the ground cracking beneath each stride. "I've been experimenting with haki. Testing its limits. You just happen to be the perfect subject. I get to push my new techniques — and you, in return, get stronger. Seems like a fair trade, doesn't it?"
Doflamingo straightened, blood still dripping from the corner of his lips. His grin returned — wild, dangerous.
"You think pain scares me?" he said, spreading his arms, his coat of black inferno unfurling like the wings of a predator. "You think I'll stop because of a few broken ribs?"
"You said it yourself," I reminded him, my smirk cold. "You're still not strong enough to face Kaido. If you can't even take my punches, how do you plan to survive against him — a man who's awakened a Mythical Zoan?"
The name alone changed the air. Kaido.
It was more than a name — it was an obsession, a looming shadow that haunted Doffy's pride. And just as I expected, his expression darkened, the veins on his temple pulsing as his aura erupted anew. He didn't respond. He didn't need to.
"Fufufufu…" His laughter cracked through the battlefield, rising like a war cry. "Then I'll surpass him, even if I have to break every bone in my body to do it!"
Flames ignited around him—not normal fire, but a dense, black inferno laced with streaks of crimson lightning. His flames twisted around his body like living serpents, binding the heat, shaping it, and condensing it into armor. The very air screamed as he vanished from sight.
"Soru!"
He reappeared beside me—a blur of motion, his right arm wreathed in obsidian fire, fist streaking toward my ribs with monstrous force. The sound of displaced air cracked like thunder.
But to me, it was slow.
I twisted my body just enough. His punch tore through the afterimage of my shoulder. My counter came from below—clean, surgical, and devastating. My fist met his gut.
"BOOOM!"
The shockwave tore across the training grounds. The earth erupted, fissures spreading like spiderwebs. The sea beyond rose in a towering wave, blasted outward by the force of the blow. Every lingering flame on the field was snuffed out instantly—the impact alone vacuuming the oxygen from the air for a heartbeat before the wind came roaring back, scattering ash and petals alike into the abyss below.
Doffy's body bent around my strike, the sheer power of it rippling through his insides. The hardened haki coating his abdomen shattered like brittle glass—the true force digging past it, inside him. He gagged, spitting another mouthful of blood before being sent flying back, smashing through a half-collapsed column and skidding across the burnt earth, leaving a deep gouge in his wake.
His elemental form wavered, his flames unraveling in disarray. For a moment, he couldn't even breathe. The energy within his core—the life force that fueled his haki—felt drained, siphoned out through the very point of impact.
I straightened, lowering my fist, exhaling steam. My arm tingled faintly, the skin along my knuckles glowing from the recoil. "Still too rigid," I said to myself, watching him struggle to stand.
"You coat your body too thickly with armament. It's strong, yes, but it leaves you blind to internal flow. You fortify the outside while ignoring what's within."
Doflamingo groaned, forcing himself upright. His legs trembled, but his grin—infuriating, defiant—never left his face.
"Always… always lecturing, little brother," he rasped, his voice half a laugh. "You sound more like an old monk than a fighter…"
"And yet I'm the one still standing," I replied coolly. He threw back his head and laughed again, his blood-smeared smile feral. "Fufufufufu… then come on, teacher — show me again!"
The ground beneath his feet ignited once more as black flames burst outward, weaving through the rubble. The filaments embedded themselves into the ruined earth, anchoring him, feeding off the heat and residual energy in the air.
Then — he pulled.
The entire terrain convulsed. Jagged shards of rock and debris shot upward like a storm of blades, spiraling around us in a vortex of destruction.
"Purgatory Inferno!"
Every strand flared crimson, twisting into molten cords that danced with electricity. They lashed at me from every direction—relentless, explosive. I raised my hands, my own Conqueror's Haki blooming outward in a flare of gold and black. My haki pulsed like a living storm, shaping itself into a barrier that split the air. Each thread that touched it disintegrated into ash.
But Doflamingo was already moving again—darting through the chaos, closing the distance with impossible speed, his coat of flame armor blazing like the wings of a demon. Our fists collided.
The explosion that followed tore the sky apart.
The cliff shattered, half of it collapsing into the sea below. The sound carried for miles — a deafening roar of power clashing against power. When the light faded, we stood locked in place, steam and smoke curling around us. Doflamingo's chest heaved, his smile strained but alive.
For the first time in hours, I saw something flicker in his eyes — not arrogance, but exhilaration.
"Fufufufu… not bad…" he rasped, his voice hoarse. "Now that's a punch worth taking."
I exhaled slowly, lowering my stance. "Good," I said, smirking. "Then we'll continue until you can take it without bleeding."
His grin widened. "You better not hold back."
The thunder cracked again, the storm gathering once more over the shattered field. Two brothers, two demons of ambition—standing amidst the ruins of paradise, turning pain into power.
"Fufufufu…" Doflamingo rolled his shoulders, black flames re-forming into a molten cloak around him. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving. The grin on his lips quivered—but it was still there, the grin of a man who refused to bow.
"You always were… a monster in disguise, weren't you?" His voice was hoarse, but his pride was intact. "But if this is all there is to your new technique, then I'm sure I can handle it."
I didn't bother to reply. My stance remained loose—effortless. Steam coiled from my skin, every breath shimmering with energy dense enough to warp the light itself.
Doflamingo's smirk faltered as a sudden heaviness settled on his chest. It wasn't fear—it was the instinctual dread of prey before a predator. He had faced emperors. He had crushed admirals beneath his heel. But this—this was something beyond that.
I wasn't fighting like a man reaching upward. I fought like one who already stood upon the summit. I stepped forward once. A sonic boom split the air.
Fist met fist—one, then two, then dozens in blinding succession. Doflamingo's fiery punches fell like meteors, each impact cracking the heavens. I countered each one, haki meeting haki, fist meeting flame. Every clash birthed shockwaves that carved trenches across the earth. The crater beneath us deepened with each exchange, expanding outward like a living wound.
Before he could regain his footing, I vanished—my silhouette flickering through the smoke like a phantom. A fist slammed into his ribs. A knee drove into his gut. An elbow crashed across his shoulder. Every blow was precise, rhythmic—the storm given form.
"Too slow," I murmured, slipping through his counterattacks like water. "Too predictable."
"Don't—" Doflamingo's snarl ripped through the air as his strings exploded outward, laced with flame. "—mock me!"
The world turned pitch black. His fiery web detonated in a blinding burst, swallowing the entire training ground. The explosion lit the sky like a second sun, vaporizing stone, glass, and steel.
Out of that inferno, I walked—untouched, the air shimmering around me.
My haki was so dense that the fire itself curved away from me, unable to consume what it couldn't comprehend.
"If you fight like this against Kaido," I said quietly, "you'll die before he even acknowledges your existence."
Doflamingo's jaw tightened. His laughter came hollow this time, forced through blood and pride.
"Fufufu… if this is all you've got, little brother, then I'm sure I can take Kaido again—"
He didn't finish. I was already behind him.
"In that case, brother…! The next few minutes," I whispered in his ear, my voice low, sharp, and cold, "will decide whether you walk out of here alive."
My fist drove into his spine. Armament and Conqueror's Haki overlapped—dense, crackling, absolute. Even Kaido's scales might have splintered under such a blow. Ribs shattered with a wet crack—but Doflamingo didn't scream. He grinned, blood spilling down his lip as he swung at my face, a reflex of defiance. I caught his fist easily. He staggered upright, black flames rippling from his body like the pulse of a living heart.
"You think I haven't bled for mine?" he spat. "You think the world handed me this strength?"
"No, Doffy." I met his glare with calm, quiet certainty. "I just bled more."
The words cut deeper than my fists ever could. For a moment—just one—his laughter died.
He knew it was true. No matter how much he schemed, clawed, or killed his way upward, there was always a gulf. A distance he could never close. His little brother was blessed by the world itself.
He—the Heavenly Demon—was still only human. His veins bulged, his flames flared, and he screamed,
"Then let's see what that blessing is worth—when the world itself burns!"
He unleashed his awakened logia ability beyond what he ever thought was possible. The sky answered. Every flame still clinging to the battlefield began to twist and turn, drawn toward him like moths to a dying star. The temperature surged. The air screamed under the pressure. Even the sea retreated, boiling into a haze of steam.
At first, I thought it was his usual reconstruction—his black fire reshaping, intensifying. But then I felt it. Something ancient. Something that did not burn—it consumed. A flame that did not create light—it devoured it. Even my haki strained against its touch; I had to reinforce my guard with raw Conqueror's just to keep my flesh from blistering.
The ground liquefied. The last blossoms turned to vapor. And then— The sea itself boiled.
"Fufufufufu…" The laughter came again—but deeper now. Rougher. As if something within him—something long buried—was laughing with him. His Conqueror's Haki erupted outward, jagged and alive. The purplish-black tendrils of his usual flame warped into scarlet-black waves veined with molten crimson lightning.
It didn't radiate—it devoured, sucking the oxygen from the air. Flames coiled around his body in reverse spirals. The ground beneath his feet turned to glass, then ash, then nothing at all.
"Hellfire…" I murmured, narrowing my eyes. "You finally broke through that barrier."
A grin tugged at my lips. "If I knew beating you to a pulp would've done that, I'd have done it years ago."
Doflamingo's grin widened, his eyes bloodshot, wild. "Fufufufufu… you always were insufferable."
His fist came down like a meteor wrapped in apocalypse. I caught it mid-swing, but the shock burned through my arm—the hellfire biting at even my reinforced haki.
"Impressive…" I admitted, feeling the sting. "You finally made me feel it."
"Then feel this!" he roared.
Pitch black falmes erupted from his other hand—serpents of black fire, their bodies writhing with hunger. They didn't cut—they devoured, erasing everything in their path. One brushed past my shoulder, and the skin beneath my haki hissed, the burn refusing to fade.
I surged forward, golden and black lightning bursting from my frame. My aura clashed with his—lightning against devouring flames. The impact birthed miniature suns that detonated across the training field. Reality trembled, unable to contain the storm we unleashed.
He fought like a demon unchained—wild, magnificent, desperate. Every strike carried the weight of everything he'd ever lost: pride, pain, the burden of being lesser. But even in that fury, the gap remained.
My movement was sharper, smoother, unhurried. I weaved through his infernal barrage, countering blow for blow, each hit driving him further back until the earth cracked beneath his heels. Still, he refused to fall. His hellfire roared louder, feeding on rage, exhaustion, and sheer will. When my fist finally met his chest, the sky split.
The shockwave carved the horizon in half, hurling molten debris into the sea below. Doflamingo slammed into the far cliffside, embedding deep into the rock. His chest heaved, blood spilling freely. The hellfire flickered—unsteady, trembling—but alive. Silence fell. The wind howled over a world reduced to ruin.
Then he laughed. Low at first, then louder, echoing across the scorched sea.
"Fufufufu… So this… is what it takes to make you serious."
He wiped the blood from his lips, flames still crawling across his arm. "Are you feeling warm, little brother?" he sneered.
I smiled faintly as black lightning rippled across my body as I vanished and reappeared right in front of Doffy. Even his cursed hellfire recoiled at its presence, its edges retreating instinctively.
"You've barely scratched the surface of this new power, Doffy," I said, my fist clenched, layered with obsidian black armament and conqueror's haki, my haki devouring his. "Don't get complacent yet."
"Boom!"
My haki coated fist connected squarely with his jaw, snapping his head to the side and shattering the cliff behind him.
"Lose that smirk. You've just stepped into a new world of pain."
"Y-you little bastard…" he groaned, coughing out blood. "I should've beaten you to a pulp when we were kids!"
The flames around him flared defiantly—but my lightning surged, swallowing his hellfire whole in a cascade of gold and black. Before he could counter again, I paused—tilting my head toward the horizon. A familiar presence flickered at the edge of my Observation Haki.
"It seems Señor's here to put an end to this little training session," I said, releasing his fist and stepping back.
The air still crackled between us—embers and sparks dancing like twin suns refusing to die.
Doflamingo smirked through his exhaustion. "Fufufufu… next time, I'll burn you for real."
I met his smirk with my own. "Then make sure you survive long enough to try."
It didn't take long for Senor to reach us. High above the ruins, his strings glistened faintly against the drifting clouds—thin silver lines that stretched like veins through the sky. The man cut through the smoke and heat with practiced ease, his Devil Fruit allowing him to glide as long as the heavens themselves offered something to anchor upon.
He landed hard, boots crunching against glassed stone. The moment his eyes found Doflamingo, the breath hitched in his throat. The once-pristine training grounds—that grand terrace overlooking the sea, tended by the Tontatta gardeners and dotted with exotic blossoms—were now unrecognizable. The earth was cracked and molten, steam rising in slow columns toward a blood-red sunset. The scent of scorched stone and ozone clung to everything.
And there, sitting amidst the destruction, was Doflamingo. The Heavenly Demon—the self-proclaimed King of the New Age and one of the four Yonko—was almost unrecognizable.
His back rested against what remained of a shattered cliff. His flamboyant coat was gone, burned to scraps. His chest was bare, streaked with soot and blood, muscles trembling with exhaustion. Dozens of bruises painted his skin in hues of violet and black. Cuts crisscrossed his arms and ribs. Each breath rasped like sandpaper. The sunglasses still clung to his face, cracked at one lens, the last piece of vanity holding his dignity together.
For the first time in years, Doflamingo did not look untouchable. He looked like a man who had been taught a brutal lesson — not by an emperor or an admiral, but by his own blood.
"Master…" Senor's voice broke the silence. The man's usually stoic face flickered with something dangerously close to fear — not for himself, but for the sight before him. His pristine coat hitched slightly in the wind as he stepped forward, his usual smirk nowhere to be found.
If it were anyone else who'd done this to his master, Senor would have buried them under the ocean floor without hesitation. But the one standing here—calm, unscathed, with lightning still whispering faintly across his shoulders—was Rosinante.
Senor swallowed hard. He knew his place in the hierarchy of the Donquixote family. He was loyal to Doffy unto death—but reprimanding Rosinante was something else. The young master. The blood heir. The one even Doffy himself had once feared losing. So he said nothing.
Still, his thoughts were loud — loud enough that I didn't need words to read them. Even without Observation Haki, a man like Senor was transparent; with it, his worry, his silent reprimand, his loyalty—they all rang clear in my mind.
Did you have to be so heavy-handed, young master?
I met his gaze across the fractured field, saying nothing. The question hung unspoken between us, simmering with restrained defiance and buried respect. Senor exhaled slowly, shaking his head. He turned back to Doffy, his expression softening into something almost reverent. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his heavy white coat and knelt beside the family's patriarch.
"Here, Master," he said quietly, his usual sarcasm stripped away. "You'll catch a cold like that."
Doflamingo looked up at him through cracked shades, the faintest flicker of his old grin tugging at his lip. "Fufufu… Cold, huh? After that beating, I think the flames did me more than enough favor."
His voice was rough, gravel-edged, but still carried that arrogant undertone — the king refusing to sound beaten, even while bleeding into the dirt. Senor draped the coat over his shoulders anyway, the gesture deliberate, almost ceremonial. Then he hooked an arm beneath Doffy's, helping him rise to his feet.
Doflamingo staggered once, his legs trembling under his own weight. The air around him still shimmered faintly from the residual heat of his own hellfire. His hand clenched reflexively, the faint crackle of flames flickering before dying out—spent.
I watched silently as Senor steadied him, one arm locked under Doffy's to keep him from falling. Despite his exhaustion, Doflamingo's grin returned—faint, but defiant.
"Still standing," he muttered. "That's what counts."
"Barely," Senor said under his breath, almost too low to hear. Then, after a pause, "You both really are insane, Master."
Doflamingo laughed—a hoarse, ragged sound that still carried that signature madness.
"Fufufufu… Takes one to serve one."
Senor didn't smile back. He turned his head toward me, the movement slow and deliberate. His eyes—those cold, tired eyes that had seen too much—hardened into steel.
"Did you have to go that far, young master?" He finally said aloud, his voice calm but edged with reproach. "He's still your brother and the family head."
The words hung heavy in the burned air. I said nothing at first. The lightning around me faded, leaving only the faint hum of the wind and the crackle of dying embers. Then I stepped forward, stopping a few paces away. My eyes met his—unwavering, and with a mischievous smile, "Doffy asked for it… Don't blame me…" I said, trying to brush away the blame.
Finally, Doflamingo chuckled again, leaning against Senor for balance. "Don't scold him, Senor… Ross did what he had to. Fufufufu… It's been a while since someone reminded me that I'm not invincible."
Doffy adjusted the coat Senor had draped over his shoulders; the fabric, still pristine, felt like a smooth cushion over his scarred physique, which was now brutally beaten and torn. His breathing had steadied, though each exhale came with a low, rasping undertone that betrayed the damage beneath the bravado.
He tilted his head, a crooked grin returning to his bloodied lips. "So, Senor," he drawled, voice hoarse but tinged with mischief, "what made you come crashing down in such a hurry? Surely it wasn't to lecture me about brotherly love?"
Senor's brows twitched. The man looked utterly exasperated—though in fairness, seeing Doflamingo upright again was already a miracle. He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache.
"Lecture you?" he muttered, his tone halfway between annoyance and disbelief. "Master, you're lucky to be standing. The young master over there used you like a personal punching bag. If I had arrived any later, I'd have had to fish you out of the sea in pieces!"
Doflamingo chuckled weakly, a low, amused sound that bubbled through cracked lips.
"Fufufufufu… You're exaggerating."
"I'm not exaggerating!" Senor barked, his usual monotone replaced by genuine irritation. "Look at yourself! You're leaking from more holes than a colander!" He jabbed a finger toward the bruises mapping Doffy's ribs, his voice rising. "If this is your idea of training, I don't even want to imagine what a real fight looks like!"
Doflamingo's grin widened despite the scolding. "You talk too much, Senor. Maybe I should get Ross to train you next."
Senor visibly paled. "No, thank you," he said quickly, holding up both hands in surrender. "I quite like my bones the way they are, unshattered."
Even I couldn't help but smirk faintly at that, the first flicker of humor cutting through the smoldering tension that hung over the field. For a brief moment, it felt almost like old times—a time before power, before ambition, before the world knew of the Donquixote family, a time when we were simply three orphans on an island in North Blue.
But then Senor blinked. A realization flickered across his face — that expression of sudden panic when a soldier remembers why he was sent in the first place.
He straightened instantly. "Ah—! That's right!" he blurted out, voice urgent now. "Master Doffy! Young master Ross!"
Doflamingo's head turned, his grin fading slightly at the tone. "What now?"
"It's an urgent matter," Senor said, his earlier flustered humor vanishing like smoke. "Shyarly, she's had a vision about Fishman Island."
The air changed. It wasn't visible — but everyone felt it. The laughter, the remnants of mockery, even the warmth of the setting sun — it all seemed to drain away. A low, almost inaudible hum filled the silence, like the world itself holding its breath. My expression hardened as my Voice of all things seemed to resonate instinctively, feeling the tremor of destiny in Señor's words.
"Go on," Doflamingo said quietly, his voice stripped of all playfulness.
Senor paused for half a heartbeat, then spoke. "Queen Otohime has given birth," he said. "It's a girl."
The world seemed to still. For a moment, no one spoke. The wind died. Even the flicker of distant embers froze mid-dance, caught in the weight of that single sentence. Then Doflamingo's jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck tightened. Slowly—painfully—he pushed himself upright, shrugging off Senor's supporting arm. His body screamed in protest, but his will didn't yield.
He stood tall, the fading light catching on his cracked shades as he stared out toward the distant horizon—toward the unseen depths where Fishman Island lay. The sea beyond glimmered like molten glass, the sky bleeding into it in streaks of red and gold.
"So," he said at last, his voice low and almost reverent. "It's finally happened."
His grin returned—not the playful smirk of a pirate nor the manic sneer of a tyrant, but something colder. Sharper.
"So Poseidon has been reborn once more into this world…"