As the call connected, an urgent voice came through.
"Doffy! What was that light just now?! Are you alright over there?!"
Feeling the pain radiating through his body, Doflamingo's expression darkened.
"Nothing major. What about your side? You wouldn't call unless something's wrong—is it the cargo?"
"No, Doffy! It's the Marines! A battleship is rapidly approaching from the south of the island! We need to leave now. We've identified the ship—it belongs to T-Bone from Akainu faction. That guy might not be the strongest, but he's troublesome. And since he's one of Akainu's trusted men, we can't afford to clash with the Marines right now. We need to evacuate immediately!"
Listening to the news relayed by Trebol over the phone, veins bulged one after another on Doflamingo's forehead.
He turned his gaze toward Jake, his sunglasses reflecting the figure enveloped in Holy Light.
His hand twitched uncontrollably and his murderous intent toward Jake reached its peak in that moment.
Yet, even at this point, Doflamingo didn't lose his head.
He merely shouted in the direction of Jake's retreating figure.
"Brat! No matter which faction sent you, your head will soon be delivered to me. I'll uncover your family, your origins, everything about you! Anyone connected to you won't escape!"
Hearing Doflamingo's words, Jake who was carrying Monet in his arms, didn't look back.
He had no desire for a war of words—his mind was entirely focused on the dwindling time left on his experience card.
2 minutes and 17 seconds!
Beside him were the excited slaves, clutching crude weapons as they surged toward the exit of the dungeon.
But it was still too slow!
At their current pace, they wouldn't even make it out of the dungeon before his experience card expired, let alone plunge the entire island into chaos.
Taking a deep breath, Jake gritted his teeth and channeled the last remnants of Holy Light within him, casting a buff on everyone.
An incredibly light force emerged within each of them and to their astonishment, their speed more than doubled compared to before.
The slaves weren't fools.
Gazing at Jake's figure leading the charge and recalling the light that had torn through the dungeon, someone shouted first.
"Protect the Holy Light! Protect him and get him out of here!"
One voice rallied a thousand others!
Like cold water splashed onto hot oil, the not-so-loud cry ignited a fervent response among the slaves.
"Help that man escape! Kill those damned pirates and slavers!"
"Wipe out those rat-like bastards!"
Though their shouts were chaotic and their movements clumsy, with each cry, flames began to rise into the sky.
Unlike the radiant Holy Light Jake had unleashed, these flames were born from the sparks of rebellion—tiny embers on the ground converging into a wildfire!
Under the effects of Divine Teachings, it took less than a minute for them to free every slave in the dungeon.
The newly liberated slaves, spurred by the crowd, joined the resistance.
Jake, who had once been at the forefront, now found himself enveloped within the masses.
Monet, cradled in his arms, blushed slightly with worry.
"Jake, put me down. I can walk on my own. You look weak—does this power have side effects?!"
Jake didn't answer, but Monet was right.
The power brought by the template had temporarily elevated his combat strength to a considerable level, but the exhaustion from using the Holy Light was unavoidable.
For Jake, it felt as though his brain was about to split apart from the pain, making it almost impossible to walk.
If not for the intense will to survive driving him, Jake would have long since collapsed.
But he knew he was still far from escaping.
After breaking out of the dungeon, they were met with a siege by the Aston Kingdom and the executives of the Donquixote Family.
The well-trained kingdom soldiers, armed with spears and muskets, fired a volley of single-shot flintlocks at the civilians fleeing the slave market—without any warning or questions.
Before that, the slaves had already laid down their weapons, some even wearing joyful smiles as they called out to the soldiers.
"We are citizens of this country! We were captured by those—"
Yet before the words could even finish, they were met with countless blinding flashes of gunfire.
The smell of gunpowder mingled with the sinful glow of flames as they erupted from the cold, black barrels, unleashing a savage and wicked assault upon the unarmed civilians.
This sudden attack, however, was halted by a series of clink-clank sounds.
A radiant figure stood towering among the crowd, his brilliance was awe-inspiring.
"Holy Light Protection!"
A faint white glow, thin as an eggshell, enveloped all the slaves.
Bullets struck it, producing only metallic clinks.
But using Holy Light skills far beyond his limits in quick succession left Jake face increasingly pale.
Glancing at the stunned and disbelieving slaves, he shouted hoarsely.
"Run! that's the only way you'll survive! This is no longer your home! Go!"
Without hesitation, Jake spread his arms, his eyes bloodshot and launched an attack toward the army.
A sacred pattern, three to four meters in radius, materialized beneath the soldiers' feet.
Before their commander could issue an order to scatter, an unbearably bright light descended from the sky.
The terrifying impact crushed those at the center, while the shockwave tore a massive gap through the neatly lined ranks.
Before Jake could say anything, the crowd instinctively surged toward the only opening.
Even if what awaited them there were cold, gleaming spears and blinding swords—so what? It was the only path to survival!
Monet, supporting the pale Jake, followed the crowd toward the breach.
Just then, a trembling voice called out.
Jake and Monet instinctively turned to look—only to find themselves surrounded by layer upon layer of human walls.