He couldn't help but wonder how in the seven hells did he, the Golden Lion Shiki, end up on this pirate ship, so completely and inexplicably outmaneuvered?
Beside him, "Diamond" Jozu shook his massive head slightly, though the corners of his lips curled up into an involuntary smug grin.
He had always said it: when it came to business, to pure, uncut negotiation, Ron was the man.
Just look at these tactics, this foresight.
It was utterly, impressively ruthless.
Ace, for his part, was barely holding back a full-blown belly laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort.
He hid his grin behind his hand and shook his head lightly.
Is the Golden Lion going to cough up another two pounds of blood from sheer rage? he wondered.
Marco, ever the stoic first mate, simply watched the scene unfold with a deadpan expression.
"...Fetch the bucket," he muttered under his breath.
The Golden Lion's face flushed deep crimson.
Veins bulged on his temples, and the sound of his teeth grinding together was audible even over the distant sounds of battle.
His fists were clenched so tightly they trembled, his entire restored body quivering as he struggled to suppress the inferno of pure, unadulterated rage that threatened to consume him.
But he knew, with a certainty that tasted like ash in his mouth, that this was not the time or place to explode.
Under this roof, bound by a power he couldn't break, he had no choice but to endure.
He shot Ron a glare so venomous it could have curdled milk.
Fine, he seethed internally.
You want to sell my blood? Go ahead, you little bastard! Sell it!
Doflamingo took a slow, deep breath, as if trying to inhale the suffocating tension in the air.
His chest, draped in his ridiculous pink feather coat, rose and fell slightly.
His eyes, hidden behind their usual shield, betrayed a flicker of the shock that was still crashing violently against the shores of his mind.
Yet, with the practiced ease of a master manipulator, he forced himself to regain his composure, masking his inner turmoil with a veneer of untouchable calm.
"Vice-Captain Ron," he began, his voice a low, silky purr.
"These… abilities you have on display are truly..." He lifted his gaze, his sunglasses glinting as he locked eyes with Ron.
His pupils, just barely visible, shimmered with a complex, volatile mix of emotions—seething resentment, cold calculation, but above all, an insatiable, burning hunger for the power contained in those vials.
And now, with Shiki's transformation, the blood of the Float-Float Fruit had become a one-of-a-kind treasure, an exclusive commodity.
Even if he wanted to walk away from this deal… Ron now held something he desperately wanted.
He had no choice.
His voice, though feigning his usual arrogant calm, trembled almost imperceptibly, betraying the war raging within him.
"How… do you propose we collaborate?"
For a moment, time seemed to freeze.
The air thickened, and Doflamingo's mind was a battlefield—cold, hard reason clashing violently against the primal, screaming desire for more power.
In the end, there was no contest.
He could never resist the devil's temptation.
I underestimated him, Doflamingo admitted inwardly with a silent, bitter sigh.
Completely and utterly underestimated him.
This seemingly young upstart, this cunning opponent, had laid out an inescapable, perfectly constructed trap.
Every step, from the moment he had arrived on this island, had been meticulously calculated by Ron, leaving him utterly powerless to fight back.
His mind flashed back.
If he had acted at the very beginning, before this public display, perhaps there might have been hope.
He could have used his vast underworld network, the black market, traded rare intelligence, or used intermediaries to acquire some of these samples covertly.
But reality was brutally harsh.
The news of Ron's ability to replicate Devil Fruits had already spread through the shadows of the world like a wildfire.
It was no longer a secret.
This "encyclopedia" was an insurmountable chasm, shattering all his hopes of a subtle acquisition into oblivion.
But then again… his eyes drifted to the vial labeled [KAIDO] and the one shimmering with golden light labeled [KIZARU].
The situation would be entirely different.
Kaido's monstrous strength, Kizaru's untouchable speed… with power like that, would he even need to trade? He could simply take whatever he wanted!
But all of this was merely wishful thinking, a fantasy.
The reality before him left no room for alternatives.
At that moment, Doflamingo finally conceded defeat.
His eyes betrayed a hint of resignation, of desolation.
This transaction would not be simple, and the price would be astronomically steep.
Yet, he knew this was his choice to make—the only choice, if he wanted to not just survive, but to thrive and climb to the top of this cruel, chaotic world.
"Joker... you're quite the straightforward man," Ron remarked, a satisfied glint in his eyes.
He then gestured grandly towards the cabinet.
"The pricing is simple. Different blood, different value. Just like everything else in this world, each power has its own unique worth."
Ron extended a finger, pointing to the meticulously arranged vials.
His gaze was earnest, his demeanor shifting to that of a professional, an expert in his field.
"As you can see, these blood samples are priced according to their rarity and power, as I'm sure you understand."
"First, the Mythical Zoan types," he said, tapping the glass in front of Kaido's and Sengoku's samples.
"These are undoubtedly the most expensive. The power they contain often defies imagination. They grant the user the abilities of a literal myth, a living legend."
"Next up are the Logia Types." He gestured to the vials of Kizaru and Aokiji.
"Logia users can command the very forces of nature—light, ice, magma, lightning. Such overwhelming power naturally makes them highly valuable and sought after."
Here, Ron paused, sweeping his eyes over the stunned faces of the Donquixote Family before continuing.
"As for Paramecia and regular Zoan types, you can't generalize. It all depends on the specific ability. Some Paramecia powers might seem mundane, but in the hands of a genius, they can produce unexpected, world-altering results." He gave Doflamingo a pointed look, a subtle nod to the Heavenly Yaksha's own mastery of the String-String Fruit.
"And Zoan abilities vary widely. So, setting a single price for them would be unreasonable."
Then, as if recalling a crucial, non-negotiable point, Ron's expression became serious.
"Of course, our captain's Tremor-Tremor Fruit cannot be lumped together with ordinary Devil Fruits." His voice was firm, absolute.
"You must understand, the Tremor Fruit is hailed as the strongest Paramecia-type Devil Fruit in existence. The sheer destructive power and intimidation factor it possesses are unparalleled. When considering its price, we must account for its intrinsic, world-ending value."
Jozu, hearing Ron's words, raised his chin, his chest swelling with pride.
"Exactly!" he boomed. "Pops ranks first among the Four Emperors! His status and strength are beyond anyone's reach."
"How could Pops' abilities be compared to some common pirate's?" Ace chimed in, stepping forward with a fiery, confident smirk.
"Doflamingo, you should know it's only because you're our top trading partner that you even have the privilege of seeing this. With your status, you wouldn't normally even come close to experiencing Pops' true power. Others can only gaze at him from afar."
Doflamingo narrowed his eyes, the verbal barbs bouncing off his practiced composure.
His mind was a whirlwind of colliding thoughts.
After a moment of intense contemplation, he finally grasped the full, humiliating complexity of the situation before him.
He wasn't a partner.
He wasn't a collaborator.
He was a customer, standing in the most exclusive, high-stakes shop in the entire world.
And the price of admission was acknowledging that he was no longer the one pulling the strings.