Inside the Hell Pirates' headquarters on Doragonzo Island, Donquixote Doflamingo stared straight at Brook, the New World's overlord.
His Haki was still young, still thin. In front of Brook, it felt like paper held up against a hurricane.
Behind him, Trebol, Diamante, and the rest were already shaking. They had never imagined that living quietly in the North Blue, slowly building their little crew, would end with Golden Lion Shiki dropping from the sky and dragging them halfway across the world.
They were washed up pirates, nothing more. After barely a year following a boy with Conqueror's Haki, they had been captured and hauled to the legendary Pirate Holy Island.
It was a nightmare they could not have dreamed up even after ten bottles of rum.
They had tried pushing into the Grand Line once before. They got crushed, fled back to the North Blue, and only then stumbled upon Doflamingo, a "future king" worth betting everything on. Now that bet had paid out in the worst way possible.
Brook, the ruler of the New World, had crossed thousands of miles just to catch a small time pirate from the North Blue.
It was like a nobleman sprinting through an alley to fight over scraps in a trash can.
Brook laughed.
"Doflamingo. Do you want power? Do you want revenge? Then I'll hand you the knife. I'll give you the strength to flip the World Government and the Celestial Dragons upside down."
Doflamingo's eyes were wild, sharp, and stubborn, full of hatred that refused to cool.
A perfect dog, the kind that did not need loyalty. Just a chain and a target.
"You want to use me," Doflamingo said calmly.
Then he smiled.
"But I agree. I want Devil Fruits, money, and training for all three types of Haki."
The demand came out clean, without hesitation, like he had already decided this was his only road forward.
Brook tilted his head.
"Yohohoho. Brat, how much do you think you're worth? I don't have five or ten years to watch you crawl."
Brook had no intention of letting Doflamingo grow slowly, polishing himself into a weapon on his own schedule. Vegapunk had methods, potions that could rip potential out of a body by force.
If the price was lifespan, so be it.
Under Brook's pressure, a bead of cold sweat slid down Doflamingo's forehead.
He finally understood.
Conqueror's Haki meant nothing if you stood in front of a real monster.
"Give me ten years," Doflamingo snapped, then immediately gritted his teeth and corrected himself. "No, five. Five years, and I'll bring you a Celestial Dragon's head."
Brook's grin widened.
"Your little brother, Rocinante, was adopted by Sengoku. He's probably training right now. He's going to come for you one day, the demon who shot your own father in front of him."
Brook's voice stayed light, almost amused.
"And Sengoku himself, he's a Conqueror too. Imagine it, your brother learning from a real master. Does that bother you at all?"
For a moment, something twisted hard in Doflamingo's expression.
Then it turned into pure rage.
"Rocinante…!!"
His teeth ground together like he wanted to chew through the world.
"Fine. Let him come. I'll be stronger than that trash."
Brook nodded, satisfied.
"Good. My people will train you properly. Are you ready for a life that feels like hell itself?"
Doflamingo did not look away.
Brook moved fast after that.
Vegapunk was called, and a full set of potential stimulants was prepared for Doflamingo. Along with them came mid level training methods for all three types of Haki, plus advanced concepts like Ryuo and Conqueror's coating. Brook even tossed him a copy of a Devil Fruit Awakening guide.
If Doflamingo was going to become a weapon, he would become one quickly.
The boy's growth rate was already abnormal. In the original timeline, he could travel from the North Blue to Loguetown in the East Blue at seventeen just to watch Roger's execution.
Brook thought about it for a moment, then snorted.
People always acted like the Grand Line was a one way prison. That was only true for clueless rookies.
There were steel rail waterways on Reverse Mountain. There were merchant fleets that crossed seas. There was the World Conference every four years. Even pirates like Krieg's crew, or men like Trebol and Diamante, had reached the Grand Line and fled back alive.
Sea Prism bottoms were not the only trick in the world.
After everything was arranged, Brook turned his attention to the rest of the Donquixote crew.
Trebol, Diamante, and the others were tossed into one of the Hell Pirates' affiliated groups and ordered back to the North Blue.
Their job was simple.
Keep growing, keep gathering, keep hunting Devil Fruits for the Hell Pirates.
With Brook behind them, they did not hesitate for even a second. They abandoned Doflamingo on the spot and immediately threw themselves at the Hell Pirates' feet, grateful for the chain as long as it meant survival.
Brook also singled out Vergo.
He gave him special training, then sent him into the Marines.
Vergo would earn merit, climb fast, and become a rising star, a knife hidden in the Navy's ribs, just like Dragon.
Brook's eyes narrowed slightly when Dragon came to mind.
Dragon had the itch to rebel already, but he did not even have a loyal core inside the Marines willing to follow him.
Pathetic.
Even Zephyr, in another life, had students who would die for him. Dragon had nothing but stubborn pride and empty dreams.
As for Doflamingo, Brook did not just hand him over.
Brook trained him personally.
He dragged him into the same brutal special training as his descendants and students, and forced him to watch, up close, what real monsters looked like when they grew.
Douglas Bullet was beaten into accepting the role of "student."
Sakazuki remained exactly what he had become in the Hell Pirates' camp, everyone's sparring partner, everyone's punching bag.
Outside, the shattered World Government launched another round of global conscription.
Not long after, the Seven Warlords of the Sea were officially established.
And Brook watched the board being reset with cold interest while far away, that old immortal Imu continued collecting and repairing the fragments of Uranus.
Brook's fingers tightened slightly.
No more trump cards. No more hiding.
Next time, there would be no stalemate.
Next time would be the decision.
--------------
Human desire has created countless things.
It is also the force that keeps pushing mankind forward, letting people reshape the world little by little, until they finally became the ones standing at the top.
Because of laziness, people invented tools that made life easier.
Because of greed and ambition, they forged weapons meant only to kill.
Because of fear, because of joy, because of every craving buried in the heart, desire piled up into cultures, inventions, and the strange brilliance of countless races.
And in the end, it even gave birth to Devil Fruits.
Which raised a question that had annoyed Brook for years.
Was Hell, that forbidden and terrifying place, born from human imagination?
Or had it existed since ancient times, waiting in the dark long before anyone gave it a name?
And the "gods" inside Devil Fruits, were they only fantasies made real?
Or had they once truly walked the world?
A golden Buddha.
A phoenix.
A blue dragon.
A Divine Wolf.
The Sun God Nika.
Did those things ever exist, in flesh and blood, under the same sky?
Brook did not want to chase answers that led nowhere.
He only wanted to become stronger and keep his fate in his own hands.
More than once, he had tried to force the Yomi Yomi no Mi's passive to trigger again, to throw his soul back into Underworld Hell.
During those eight long years on the moon, boredom had been his greatest enemy, and it had driven him into obsession.
He tore into every corner of his awakened power, stretching it, twisting it, trying to find a path back.
Who decided the Yomi Yomi no Mi could only trigger once?
Some nameless voice, some unproven claim, treated like an absolute law?
The Rubber Fruit could become the Sun God Nika.
So why could the Yomi Yomi no Mi not have deeper, higher potential?
To test it, Brook did not hesitate.
He executed criminals in prison, again and again, following the trail of their souls, observing the moment they fell toward the underworld, searching for a crack he could slip through.
Eventually, he found something.
The stronger a soul was, the bigger the disturbance when it entered Underworld Hell.
With how far he had developed his own soul now, with his current depth of power, he had a real chance of riding along with a soul and sneaking into the underworld again.
But then came the real problem.
How would he return?
Could the Yomi Yomi no Mi trigger again to drag him back out?
And if he slipped in and got caught, if some great terror of Hell tore him apart, would that not be the stupidest death imaginable?
The risk was real.
And now Brook could not afford it.
He was no longer a lone man chasing strength with nothing to lose.
He had wives and children.
He had soldiers, cadres, divisions, an entire empire of pirates that depended on his existence.
If he vanished into the underworld and never came back, the Hell Pirates would collapse.
After weighing it again and again, Brook finally swallowed that desire and forced himself to step back from the edge.
Maybe one day, when he was tired of life, he would gamble everything and walk into Hell for answers.
If he never returned, then so be it.
But not now.
Now he could not be lazy.
Now he had to move.
He had to crush the New World completely, hunt down every pirate and rebel he could, feed his private Hell until it overflowed, and keep climbing.
Ever since learning that Imu was repairing Uranus, Brook had also poured the Hell Pirates' resources into Vegapunk's hands, ordering him to build the real Pluton.
And he would not stop until the New World was strangled quiet.
Even Rocks' remnants would not be spared.
Surrender, or die.
Wang Zhi and Jennifer had chased Captain John for years without success. They had already returned to New Beehive Island and risen into major pirates.
News also reached Brook's desk that Barbossa and his daughter were hiding on Greenbit, exposed by Karina.
And that man Naguri had gone to the East Blue.
Antonio guessed he was hunting Roger's family for revenge.
Ever since hearing about Kaido's "mistress," Brook had started combing through every roster and division report, looking for familiar names.
And then he saw it.
In Newgate's Third Division, among names like Jozu and other veterans, one name jumped out like a knife.
Marshall Teach.
Even without the "D," Brook recognized him instantly.
This bastard still had the same boldness he carried in the original world.
Brook did not want to alert him. He planned to go to Newgate in person, claim Teach, and drag him to Sky Island to study that abnormal body.
Then he found another note.
In Hiruba's Seventh Squadron, the Sniper Division, there was a woman named Miss Bakin.
Beside her name was an extra line.
Five year old child, adopted, named Weevil.
Hiruba, with the mind reading and spiritual peeping abilities of the Glare-Glare Fruit, had accepted Bakin even though she clearly had her own schemes, and even though she brought a burden.
But under the haze of "first love," Hiruba did not care.
He slept with her anyway.
Two people with dirty intentions, wrapped up together like lovers.
Even Brook had to stare at the report for a moment.
That little traitor Hiruba had grown up.
Maybe he could not win Bakin's heart, but he had at least taken her body.
Brook could not help muttering.
Snipers were all a little shady.
He immediately convened a meeting.
Rocks' remnants on Beehive Island.
Wang Zhi and Jennifer.
The remnants of the Diger Pirates.
Barbossa and his daughter.
All of it would be handled at once.
If they could not be tamed, they would be captured, and Brook would execute them personally, reclaiming both soul and Devil Fruit.
Orders went out fast.
Shiki's First Division, Newgate's Third, and Kaido's Fourth would join forces and crush the remnants on Beehive Island.
Vampire Shakky's Second Division, Kozuki Oden's Fifth, and Fisher Tiger's Sixth would head to Greenbit and capture Barbossa and his daughter.
While thinking of Barbossa, Brook suddenly remembered the other one.
The blood donor locked in Crocus' prison.
That annoying man with the stubborn bones.
Brook sighed and asked casually, "Crocus, is that Jack still refusing to surrender? And how are his woman Amber and his son Depp doing?"
Then he clicked his tongue.
"It's been almost twenty years. Jack must be close to sixty now. Is he still that tough?"
Antonio froze for a moment, then answered quickly.
"Brother Brook, Jack is still in the blood donation prison. But Amber died in an accident."
"And Depp… he still doesn't know Jack is his father."
Antonio scratched his head, as if realizing how absurd it sounded as he spoke.
"Depp had good talent, so Linlin adopted him as her adopted son and gave him a new name."
"Katakuri."
Brook's eyes narrowed slightly.
Antonio continued.
"Later, Katakuri awakened Conqueror's Haki. He became the strongest guardian of Cake Island."
"He has the fighting talent of the Sparrow bloodline, and Amber's Sea King, big mouthed eel bloodline too."
"Right now, his strength is already catching up to Ben Beckman and the Flame Disaster, Abel."
Antonio lowered his head.
"I forgot to hand you Linlin's and Redfield's updated roster earlier."
Brook fell silent for a moment.
Then, slowly, his lips curled upward.
Teach.
Katakuri.
One rotten seed, one sharp blade, both rising at the same time.
The New World really never ran out of surprises.
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