Inside the conference hall reserved exclusively for the Seven Warlords of the Sea, the atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the tense, methodical war preparations unfolding outside.
Here, only three Marine Headquarters lieutenant commanders were present, tasked with reception and coordination.
Around the round table sat the three summoned Warlords, each striking a different pose.
"Heavenly Yaksha" Donquixote Doflamingo squatted brazenly atop the table itself, legs spread wide, his trademark wicked grin stretching across his face as he shattered the silence first.
And when he opened his mouth, it wasn't to ask a question.
Instead, he turned toward "Moonlight" Gecko Moria and mocked him openly.
"Fufufufufu… Moria.I hear you got thoroughly thrashed by that Straw Hat brat from the East Blue? What a disgrace… You've dragged the name of the Seven Warlords through the mud."
Before the dark-faced Moria could respond, Doflamingo's gaze shifted toward the obese man grinning with missing teeth — "Blackbeard" Marshall D. Teach.
"And you, Teach… fufufufu… You've really pulled off something spectacular.First you betray that old geezer Whitebeard, and now you personally deliver his 'son' here for execution, forcing him to march to his own death. What a perfect script!"
Blackbeard merely let out his low, rumbling "Zehahahaha," offering no reply.
Seeing that neither man rose to his bait, Doflamingo felt no embarrassment whatsoever. He continued speaking to himself, as though reviewing a drama in which he wasn't even a participant.
"It seems this time, even if the Marines win… the losses will be catastrophic. Perhaps…"
At last, the three Marine lieutenant commanders responsible for maintaining order could no longer tolerate his reckless remarks.
One of them stepped forward stiffly, saluted, and spoke in a firm voice:
"Doflamingo! Mind your words!Fleet Admiral Sengoku will arrive shortly. Please maintain proper decorum and conduct!"
"Hmm?"
The smile on Doflamingo's face instantly cooled. He turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto the lieutenant commander as he stretched out his tone.
"Decorum? Conduct? Fufufu… I've been 'quietly' waiting here. But he hasn't arrived, has he?"
His voice turned chilling.
"So… before the main act arrives, I should at least find something… to pass the time."
Before his words had fully fallen, the fingers of his left hand twitched almost imperceptibly.
The next second—
The three lieutenant commanders stiffened violently.
Their pupils lost focus. Terror flooded their faces, yet they could not control their own bodies. Trembling hands moved toward the hilts at their waists.
Shing! Shing! Shing!
Blades were drawn.
Amid Moria's excited cackle and Blackbeard's deep "Zehahahaha," the three officers, like puppets yanked by invisible strings, raised their sabers and began swinging at one another against their will.
Despair filled their eyes as their blades, uncontrollable, sliced toward each other's throats—
The doors to the conference hall burst open.
Sengoku and Tsuru stood at the entrance.
The moment Sengoku stepped inside and saw the chaos, his expression turned iron-green with fury.
"Doflamingo! Stop this at once!"
But Doflamingo's lips only curved into a cold sneer. His fingers did not stop.
Instead, they began to curl more deliberately, preparing to complete the final, lethal motion.
He was certain of one thing: with a full-scale war against Whitebeard imminent, the Marines would never dare truly tear relations apart with them — such "vital combat power."
Yet just as the muscles in his fingertips tightened—
A cold voice sounded almost directly against the back of his skull.
"If you so much as twitch again, I'll twist each of your fingers into spirals right now. You'll spend the rest of your life as a cripple performing party tricks."
"!!!"
In that instant, Doflamingo felt his blood freeze.
There was no mistaking that voice.
It was etched into his bones — a fear carved too deep to ever forget.
All movement ceased.
Even the faint tremor of his fingertips halted midair, as though time itself had been paused.
Slowly — very slowly — he lifted his gaze toward the seat of honor.
Somehow, Sengoku and Tsuru were already seated calmly.
Moria and Blackbeard, who had just been watching with grotesque amusement, now sat upright like model children, expressions composed, not daring even to let their eyes wander.
Those bastards… they did that on purpose, Doflamingo cursed inwardly.
But the chill pressing against his spine kept him utterly still.
Grinding his teeth, forcing his lips into a grotesque approximation of a smile, he released the Parasite Strings.
The three lieutenant commanders collapsed to the floor, gasping violently, drenched in cold sweat.
Doflamingo didn't dare turn around.
He could only face forward toward Sengoku and Tsuru, forcing a faintly trembling laugh.
"Fufufufu… It's been… a long time…Heavenquake."
Gern, however, had no intention of indulging him.
Before Doflamingo's feigned casual greeting fully faded—
Gern Reginald Sigmar did not even need to issue a command.
A single cold glance was enough.
"BOOM!!!"
A thunderous explosion of force erupted.
Behind Gern, the silent figure moved.
Douglas Bullet struck.
A single Armament Haki–coated hand shot forward faster than Doflamingo could react, seizing his head from behind.
Then—
Power detonated.
Doflamingo didn't even manage a complete grunt before he was smashed face-first into the solid wooden conference table.
"CRASH!!"
The sturdy table collapsed instantly, wood splintering in every direction.
Doflamingo's cheek ground into shattered timber as Bullet pinned him down with one hand, crushing him into the wreckage, utterly immobile.
Did he want to resist?
Of course he did.
The powers of the String-String Fruit surged instinctively toward eruption.
But the hand pressing against the back of his skull did not carry mere physical strength.
It bore a tidal wave of Haki.
An overwhelming, absolute difference in hierarchy.
Under the crushing dominance of a monster whose power rivaled emperors, every thought of resistance was pulverized.
Fight back?
That would be self-humiliation.
Or worse.
If he dared, there was only one outcome.
Death.
Meanwhile, Moria and Blackbeard remained seated amid the shattered debris, perfectly still, not even daring to blink too loudly.
Only then did Gern step forward at an unhurried pace.
He dragged over Doflamingo's once-pristine chair, placed it behind himself, and sat.
From above, he looked down at the Warlord pinned helplessly in the rubble.
His tone was calm.
"It seems some people don't like sitting properly."
"If you dislike sitting… then lie down."
"This way… the view might be clearer."
His gaze fell upon Doflamingo's left hand — the one that had just manipulated the Parasite Strings.
Gern extended two fingers and grasped Doflamingo's index finger.
"And besides…"
Crack.
The crisp, unmistakable sound of bone snapping echoed sharply through the deathly silent room.
"Urgh—!"
When Gern bent the final pinky—
Doflamingo could no longer suppress the pained groan that tore from his throat. Fine beads of cold sweat instantly formed across his forehead.
Only after finishing did Gern release his hand.
He even wiped his fingers casually against Doflamingo's flamboyant pink coat.
"This is Marine Headquarters — Marineford.Not the World Government's inner sanctum.And certainly not your pirate crews' playground."
"If you wish to be arrogant… at least know where you are."
His eyes swept across the three Warlords.
"You three."
"Garbage."