Dressrosa.
In the palace garden, a man in pointed shoes and a pink feathered coat lounged with a den-den mushi in hand, laughter bubbling from his throat in soft, sinister ripples.
He was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea Donquixote Doflamingo.
"So that's how it went. The Gelt Kingdom really drew the short straw. Even I can't help them now, fufufu."
His words were perfunctory. His tone, delighted chaos.
On the other end, a family officer reported, voice low.
"Our ship withdrew safely. The money is secured. One more thing the Krieg Pirates were wiped out by a bounty hunter."
"Oh?"
Doflamingo sipped crimson wine, eyes glittering behind flamingo shades as he listened to the concise account.
"A bounty hunter, hm? If we're hearing this from the Navy's chatter, he likely refused recruitment. Fufufu. Extend him an invitation. Being a hunter is a waste. If he likes money, I have oceans of it."
In this world, true power clustered among pirates, Marines, and a sliver of the Revolutionary Army. Bounty hunters were a stagnant pond.
If someone could dominate the East Blue, bring him in, temper him, and the Donquixote family would gain a new blade. At worst, a Baby 5. At best, a Lao G. Either way, useful.
And money? For the Donquixote network that coursed through the entire underworld, money was just a number.
"Understood, Young Master."
The line went dead.
…
The news rolled across the seas.
A pirate crew with an army of two thousand, the Krieg Pirates, annihilated by a single bounty hunter.
At Marine Headquarters it made a brief stir, enough that Vice Admiral Burning Mountain and a handful of officers memorized the name Ron. In the East Blue, it hit like a tsunami.
The underworld shuddered. Petty lords and smugglers went silent. The sea's small-time tyrants broke into sweats. Even the pirates who swaggered at the top of the food chain stared at the horizon and felt something watching back.
In the Grand Line, Krieg was nobody. In the East Blue, he was one of the tallest pillars. Hunters who aimed at him had always died for their arrogance.
But now Krieg was dead.
Not just Krieg his two thousand were scattered and burned.
"Magician Ron…"
"Damn it."
"What kind of monster bounty hunter did the East Blue spawn?"
A pirate who had once witnessed Krieg's fleet gritted his teeth, cold seeping into his bones. Within hours, ships near the Zeal Sea spun their wheels and fled for new waters.
No one wanted to become a walking purse in the eyes of a magician.
Offers began to flow as well. Underworld outfits. Noble houses. Even kingdoms.
More than one royal court sent word to Ron, promising rank, land, and gold if he would stand watch over their shores. The Gelt Kingdom that same power whose guard had been broken by Krieg was among the first to invite him.
Every invitation vanished into silence.
Because at that moment, Ron was busy.
Specifically, he was busy paying for a shoulder massage.
Of course, the rate was astronomical. Ten minutes, one hundred thousand Berries.
But Ron, flush with cash, barely blinked.
After Kraken-sized ledgers were tallied, Krieg's entire war chest and the earlier spoils added up to a staggering 270 million Berries. Ron and Nami had expected a fortune, but the number still turned Nami giddy enough to stay wired for two nights.
Since the total smashed past their original agreement, Ron kept a portion not much, only 100 million. Which meant Nami began her favorite game: draining him with a smile.
"Twenty minutes. That will be two hundred thousand Berries."
Kneading his shoulders with small, diligent hands, Nami dabbed her brow and presented her palm with a sunny grin.
Ron stretched, handed over the money, and enjoyed the breeze.
"Thank you for your patronage. Please come again."
To Nami, two hundred thousand for twenty minutes was highway robbery. To Ron, money was a number. And paying Nami felt like dropping coins into his own piggy bank.
It was still his, just in another pocket.
Both of them felt like the winner. Which one truly "won" was a riddle for another day.
Ron rose from the deck chair, rolled his shoulders, and stepped out to the rail for a lungful of clean sea air.
From the battle, he had harvested seven achievement points.
Yes, seven in total.
They came from "Butcher" and "Massacre" for slaying 100 and 1,000 enemies worth four points. "Life on the Edge," awarded for taking a light wound during battle, one point. And "Captain III," for seizing a large three-masted ship, two points. Seven altogether.
He placed them all, without hesitation, into Spirit.
His total Spirit reached 44.
Thirty of those points had come from achievements. Yet even after crossing a total achievements threshold of thirty, no new lottery or reward appeared. A faint pang of disappointment tugged at him. When would the next draw come? At what total?
He rested his elbows on the rail, watching the sunlight skip across the water, and felt his mind move even faster than the wind.
The East Blue was listening now.
And the magician's name was already riding every current.
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