T-The Marines!?
Fisher Tiger stared blankly upward, momentarily unable to process what he was seeing.
The young man before him had sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, his gaze distant and profound, as if it concealed an entire night sky. Yet when he narrowed his eyes, a chilling sharpness flashed within them, like a ferocious tiger ready to pounce.
But at this moment, with the sunlight spilling across his casually smiling face, he gave off an inexplicable sense of trust and security.
This man...
"You're the 'King of the North Blue,' the 'Legend Slayer,' the 'Monster of the Marines' Young Generation'... Rogers Daren of Marine Headquarters!"
Fisher Tiger, completely forgetting the blood streaked across his face, widened his eyes and shouted in disbelief.
As a world-renowned adventurer and traveler, he had visited many countries and had seen a lot—he recognized Daren at a glance.
But what followed was an overwhelming shock and confusion.
The "monster" of Marine Headquarters, the rising star of the Marines, Rogers Daren... had just killed members of CP0, the World Government's top intelligence agency!
If he hadn't witnessed it himself, Fisher Tiger wouldn't have believed such a thing was possible.
Was he insane!?
To attack his own superiors...
Was he betraying the Marines?
Fisher Tiger's gaze kept darting between Daren and the headless bodies of the two CP0 agents, his voice trembling.
"You, you, you..."
Hearing this string of titles, Daren looked a little awkward... That was seriously embarrassing.
"Relax, Tiger-san. Maybe stand up first so we can talk properly?"
Daren waved his hand lightly, smiling.
Only then did Fisher Tiger realize he was still kneeling before Daren. Flustered, he scrambled to his feet, his rugged face flushing red—though on his bright red skin, it wasn't too noticeable.
"Vice Admiral Daren... how could you..."
Before he could finish, a chilling voice suddenly drifted in from above.
Fisher Tiger looked up, stunned to see a figure cloaked in a pink feather coat soaring through the clouds.
Like a wild flamingo, Doflamingo, with his short blond hair, descended gracefully, hands in pockets and strutting arrogantly.
"Fufufufufu, Godfather, is this the one you're interested in?"
"His aura's not bad... but after all, he's still just a slave."
Doflamingo let out a bizarre laugh, his sunglasses hiding a casual glance at the bloody tattoo emblazoned across Fisher Tiger's chest.
The tattoo had long since healed but was deeply burned into his flesh like the hoof of a soaring dragon—shocking and painful to see.
Fisher Tiger gritted his teeth, glaring back, humiliation flashing in his eyes.
The "Hoof of the Soaring Dragon."
It was the mark that the Celestial Dragons branded onto their personal slaves.
It symbolized ownership by the world's nobles—a brand that condemned its bearer to forever be seen as an inferior human being.
Daren glanced at Doflamingo.
"It doesn't matter."
Doflamingo just smiled and said nothing.
Fisher Tiger stared at this strange duo, his mind spinning.
One was a Marine Vice Admiral famous across the seas.
The other... was clearly a lawless pirate.
No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't figure out how these two could be standing together.
And that pirate had just called Daren "Godfather"!?
Still, compared to the shock of Daren killing CP0, these questions seemed trivial.
"Well then, Tiger-san... you're free now."
Daren stepped aside, smiling as he gestured outward.
"The sea is waiting for you."
Fisher Tiger froze, a flicker of disbelief flashing in his eyes.
This guy... was really letting him go?
He hesitated, then suddenly slammed back down onto his knees with a loud thud, pressing his forehead to the ground and roaring from the bottom of his throat,
"Vice Admiral Daren, please save my comrades!"
…
In the heart of the jungle on a deserted island...
Inside the lavishly decorated palace, hysterical screams and the sound of things being smashed echoed relentlessly.
"Damn it! It's already been three minutes!"
"Why isn't there any result yet?!"
"You worthless pieces of trash... what the hell are you good for!?"
Saint Phepros, eyes bloodshot and face twisted with rage, hurled the wine glass in his hand at one of the CP0 agents kneeling before him. The glass exploded, showering the agent's head with wine and shards.
The agent lowered his head, motionless, though under his mask, a faint trace of disgust flickered across his eyes.
"Ahhh!"
"What's happening to me?!"
"My body... it's not listening..."
"Stay away from me! What are you doing?!"
"I don't know..."
While Saint Phepros was still frantically venting his anger, a chorus of terrified screams suddenly erupted from outside the palace, quickly followed by wails, roars, and the sounds of chaos.
"What now?!"
Saint Phepros' eye twitched, thick veins bulging across his forehead. He pulled out his pistol and stormed outside in a rage.
He was disciplining his dogs, and those outside dared to cause a commotion!?
Did they think this was some filthy marketplace from the underworld!?
Furious, he flung aside the palace curtain and stormed out.
But the moment he looked outside, his pupils shrank sharply.
The stench of blood hit him like a slap in the face, thick and nauseating.
Across the clearing, hundreds of guards and attendants had lost their minds and were slaughtering each other!
Fear and confusion twisted their faces, their movements stiff and unnatural. Even as they screamed in terror, they stabbed and slashed at their comrades without the slightest hesitation.
Realizing something was terribly wrong, three CP0 agents rushed out from inside the palace. Their expressions changed drastically at the scene before them, but they quickly moved to shield Saint Phepros.
"Stay back, my lord!"
"Please retreat! We're under attack!"
But Saint Phepros didn't seem to hear them. He stood there, dazed, staring blankly up at the sky.
Above them, countless white threads rained down like falling stars, embedding themselves into the distant edges of the island, weaving a massive white Torikago that sealed the entire island within it.
Saint Phepros staggered back two steps, then suddenly whipped his head around, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the depths of the jungle.
There...
A blond figure wearing a pink feather coat, sharp-toed shoes clicking arrogantly against the ground, strolled forward with a casual, unrestrained gait, a twisted smile spreading across his face.
"Fufufufufu... It's been a long time, Uncle Saint Phepros."
"All these years, and you still love putting on your delightful little comedies."
Saint Phepros' pupils contracted into fine pinpricks, and he shrieked,
"It's you!"