Through weeks of feeding, White Flame had once again surpassed the limits of biological energy.
A new IBM had been born.
He called this one Little Third Black—simple, direct, and fitting.
It was taller and stronger than its predecessors, inheriting all their strengths in perfect balance.
With Little Third Black's help, White Flame had easily killed the Popp-Popp Fruit user Gladius and his guards in front of an entire crowd.
Now, his sights were set on the two Donquixote officers patrolling the skies—
Buffalo and Baby 5.
Their aerial patrols posed the greatest risk of exposure.
And while White Flame wasn't afraid of being found, he wasn't ready for the game to end yet.
Not until every last member of the Donquixote Family was dead.
"Little Black, Little Two Black, Little Third Black—"
He murmured, eyes closed, sitting quietly in the dark.
"The targets are above you."
Through the eyes of his three shadow wraiths, he could see the entire city at once.
When his eyes were closed, their vision became his—
three vantage points that together gave him a perfect, seamless view of the world.
Then he whispered the words that sealed their fate.
"Now. Move."
The ground trembled.
With a sound like thunder, three dark shapes shot into the sky.
"What was that?"
"Below us—something's moving!"
Buffalo and Baby 5 looked down.
They never had a chance to scream.
A claw ripped through Buffalo's chest, tearing his heart free before he could draw breath.
A second hand clamped over his mouth—then sliced his head clean off.
"Buffalo!" Baby 5 froze in horror.
Her mind blanked as blood sprayed through the air.
Three bandaged shadows materialized around her, cold and silent.
One reached forward, hand closing over her mouth.
Another seized her arms and legs, binding her as easily as a puppet on strings.
In moments, they were falling—carrying her down toward the rooftops below.
Buffalo's body vanished in the opposite direction, swallowed by the dark.
Everything had changed in the blink of an eye.
Moments ago she'd been patrolling the skies; now she was a prisoner.
The shadows dragged her into an abandoned house.
They pushed her forward—and then released her.
On the far side of the room sat a man in a high-backed chair, a faint glow of fire at his lips.
He looked at her through the smoke.
Even before she saw his full face, she knew who he was.
The rumors, the whispered nightmares that haunted Dressrosa…
The man-eating monster.
Baby 5 trembled, words failing her.
White Flame's voice was calm.
"My plan was simple. Everyone in the Donquixote Family dies—man or woman, it makes no difference."
He stood, walking toward her.
"But not all of you deserve death. Some of you… still have a use."
He knelt before her, his eyes level with hers.
Baby 5's breath caught. "W-What do you want from me?"
"You're one of Doflamingo's people," he said softly. "That's all that matters."
His hand lifted her chin until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
"Tonight," he whispered, voice cold as steel,
"your life belongs to me."
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