Flickering candlelight cast trembling shadows over the dark, damp lower deck of the ship. The air reeked of rust and mildew. Iron bars and reinforced steel walls lined both sides of the corridor, separating it into cells. Some held a single occupant, others cramped in twos or threes. The prisoners, clad in rags and bearing wounds old and new, huddled in silence.
At the corridor’s end was a larger, isolated chamber. Inside sat a man in a black-and-white striped prison uniform. Across from him, just beyond the bars, reclined a middle-aged man in a black suit and black formal hat, draped in a fur-lined coat. He stared silently at the prisoner, his posture relaxed yet alert.
"Three years I’ve been hunting you down," said the suited man, voice steady, a razor-sharp smile cutting across his chiseled face. "Didn’t expect to find you holed up in the Dorita Kingdom’s prison, bribing the guards and living the high life; food, drink, and even your own lab to tinker in. You sure know how to lay low in style."
The prisoner looked up, his voice hoarse, but laced with sarcasm. "Felix Gregory. To think the infamous cold-faced instructor of the Cipher Pol would be sent to sniff me out like a bloodhound. I’m honored."
"No choice," Felix replied coolly. "Devin Hubert, orders came straight from the Five Elders themselves. Unless one of the Four Emperors shelters you, there’s nowhere you can run that I won’t find you. Still, if it weren’t for that firestorm around EDU5, the so-called Malice Drug, you might’ve slipped through the cracks."
The shadows around him shifted as he leaned forward. In the underworld’s recent chaos, the experimental drug EDU5 had skyrocketed in popularity. Its near-lethal side effects hadn’t stopped major players from coveting it for its terrifying performance-enhancing results.
"Can’t believe those fools are raving over that outdated failure," Hubert muttered, shaking his head in genuine disappointment. His face remained indifferent, even as regret tinged his voice.
To him, EDU5 was nothing more than a discarded experiment, one of many failures along the road of his research.
"You’re a gifted man," Felix said quietly. "You could’ve had anything working for the government. Labs, resources, freedom. Why risk everything selling a drug that drains people’s potential and destroys them from within? Makes no damn sense."
He pulled his hat low over his eyes, ending the conversation. Silence fell between them like a guillotine.
Hubert said nothing, merely smirking, eyes gleaming with scorn, as though mocking something far beyond Gregory himself.
One week later, Dressrosa.
A massive warship with a snarling wolf-head prow and black sails bearing a skull insignia brazenly entered the bustling harbor.
"There... That’s... That’s one of the Seven Warlords, Golden Ring Chris T. Aeridar!!"
A man in a black shirt, stationed atop a coastal watchtower, nearly dropped his telescope as he staggered back in shock. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
"What the hell is someone like him doing in Dressrosa?"
The Donquixote Family had only recently taken control of the island.
In just a few months, they had already crushed a number of reckless pirates, some with bounties over a hundred million, even three hundred million berries.
Doflamingo had personally handled many of them with brutal efficiency.
But this... this was different.
Chris T. Aeridar wasn’t just another infamous pirate, he was a peer. A fellow Warlord of the Sea. A monster sanctioned by the World Government itself. Even someone like Doflamingo would think twice before crossing blades with someone of his caliber.
"No choice... I have to report this to Doflamingo-sama immediately!"
The man hastily put down his telescope and scrambled to pull a Den Den Mushi from his coat.
As the crew passed through the city gates and into the vibrant streets, the aroma of Dressrosa struck them like a wave.
"Mmm! Smells amazing!" Millie and Mina tilted their delicate noses to the air, twirling as they breathed in the floral perfume that wafted through the streets.
"Yeah... and there’s food too," Gorbo added, eyes locked on a row of food stalls lined with sizzling delicacies. He didn’t blink once.
"So many babes... MILFs, office ladies, lolis, cute girls everywhere..." muttered another crew member, overwhelmed by the endless stream of beautiful women passing by. "Too much eye candy, I can’t focus...!"
"Their dancing’s elegant," Dimitri noted calmly, watching a tall, graceful woman performing atop a platform in the square.
"Eh? What’s that? A moving toy?"
Oliver and Backan blinked in confusion as a toy monkey carrying a drum marched right past them. They stood frozen, their expressions blank with bewilderment.
The entire group, save for Aeridar, stared in stunned silence as animated toys and dolls bustled through the streets—walking, waving, even talking—like they were living beings. Every one of them, except him, looked utterly dumbfounded.
"Welcome, welcome~! Welcome to Dressrosa~!" chirped a toy soldier, tapping its drum in rhythm as it marched by.
Aeridar knew exactly what was going on, of course, but witnessing it firsthand was still surreal.
"Paramecia-type... the Hobby-Hobby Fruit. What a terrifying ability," he murmured.
Though Donquixote Doflamingo had ruled Dressrosa for only a few short months, the island was already bustling with prosperity and an eerie kind of peace. And at the heart of it all... was the overwhelming power of the Hobby-Hobby Fruit.
King’s Plateau, Dressrosa Palace.
"Fuffuffuffuffuffu~ What a hasty one. Just entered the New World and already charging straight here... eager little bastard," Doflamingo chuckled. He lounged on a deck chair beside a crystalline pool, dressed casually in a white button-up and cropped slacks. On the nearby side table sat a glass of orange juice and a pink Den Den Mushi.
"Oh, Young Master," said a calm, sultry voice beside him. A woman with long, wavy mint-green hair and golden eyes glanced up from the book she was reading. "That’s the rookie you mentioned, the strongest among the new generation? What brings him here, I wonder? There’ve been whispers about Revolutionary Army activity, too. Shall I go meet him?"
It was Monet, seated elegantly on a high stool, her voice as composed as ever.
Doflamingo grinned wide, those unsettlingly sharp teeth bared in delight.
"Heh... Monet, that guy’s no fool. As for his reason for coming... well, we’ll probably find out soon enough. Fuffuffuffuffu~"
"Ne, ne, Doffy... is he fun?" came a sudden voice from behind.
Doflamingo turned, and immediately scowled.
Standing far too close was a slovenly man with a runny nose, scraggly mustache, and a sparse set of yellowed teeth. It was Trebol.
"Trebol, you’re way too close!" Doflamingo snapped, face twitching in distaste.
"Shnurk! I was just sayin’, maybe he came to work with us, huh?" Trebol grinned, inching even closer as if oblivious to boundaries.
"Hm... who knows..." Doflamingo rose from the chair, smile widening as he turned and strode back into the palace. "Fuffuffuffuffu~"
"Heeheehee~ Monet, what do you think?" Trebol leaned toward her now, his voice oily with mischief.
"Trebol-san, you’re incorrigible," Monet sighed, expression flat as she stared at the unkempt man practically pressing his face to hers. "But... you might be right."
The very next moment, her form shimmered white, then, whoosh, she dissolved into swirling snow, vanishing entirely along with the thick-framed milk-bottle glasses resting on the table in front of her.
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