"The winner is Issho!!!"
"Our very first God of Gambling!"
"None other than the blind swordsman from the South Sea—Issho!"
"Despite being blind, it didn't affect the godlike gambling skills of our new champion one bit!"
Tesoro, the master of social spectacle, was holding up Issho's arm, announcing the results at full volume.
Click! Click! Click!
Cameras flashed wildly from every direction, capturing the moment. Every newspaper that covered this event had been paid off by Doflamingo.
Soon, the rules and schedule for future editions of the Gambling God Tournament would spread across countless islands.
And our victor, Issho...
He stood there, surrounded by cheers and attention from every angle—and for the first time in his life, he actually felt a bit awkward.
Boom!
Doflamingo reappeared on the stage in a burst of flair, accompanied by an explosive cascade of Belly, instantly drawing everyone's attention away from Issho.
Issho let out a quiet sigh of relief.
All eyes had been on him. That sudden distraction came just in time.
Under Doflamingo's precise control, the scattered bills and coins danced through the air, then landed in neat stacks and bundles.
A full billion Belly in prize money flew straight toward Issho.
Doflamingo turned to leave. He had no intention of dealing with Issho right here, not in front of everyone.
He needed somewhere quiet, somewhere off the map.
Because if people saw him make a move against the champion... how would that reflect on him, Doflamingo?
Would he look petty? Like he couldn't handle a loss? Like he couldn't stomach a little prize money?
Would anyone still want to enter his tournaments if they thought the host couldn't take defeat?
But just as he was about to disappear, Issho's voice rose from below.
"Doflamingo-san, I'm quite curious. Just what are you planning?"
Holding the enormous prize in his hands, even Issho found it hard to keep his voice firm.
"Fufufufufu... that's a secret."
Behind his sunglasses, Doflamingo's gaze turned strange. He twisted back to look Issho up and down, smiling like a cat that'd just cornered a mouse.
"If you really want to know... come meet me offshore. I'll have someone bring you. Before I leave, I'll give you your answer."
If you have the guts to come.
"I'll be waiting, Doflamingo-san."
"Then come find me. Tesoro—your turn."
"Yes, boss!"
With a wave, Doflamingo had his attendants escort Issho away.
The spotlight swung back onto Tesoro.
"That concludes the first-ever Gambling God Tournament!"
"Donquixote has prepared some special services for our winners. You can claim them based on your final ranking."
"Also, the Donquixote Family is now offering a brand-new service: fund storage."
"If you're worried about pirates targeting your wealth..."
"Feel free to reach out..."
...
The news of the Gambling God Tournament hadn't even had time to spread across the seas when a new story exploded onto the front page.
"The Red the Aloof Captured — Fleet Admiral and Marine Hero Join Forces!"
"End of the Pirate Era???"
"Pirate Era × — Marine Era √"
Across major and minor newspapers, the headlines blared. Hidden among them were some editorials clearly paid for by the Marines.
But of course... some papers had no regard for their own safety.
"Three of the Four Pirate Legends Gone — When Will Whitebeard Edward Newgate Die???"
Marko gripped the paper he'd just received.
A surge of rage shot through his veins, and the flames of the Phoenix burst to life around him.
The deck beneath his feet blackened and charred, visibly scorched from the heat.
"This paper's got a death wish. They're actually cursing Pops?!"
The surrounding crew stared in disbelief. As they saw the headline, their fury exploded.
"What the hell?!"
"Damn it! Pops is the strongest man in the world!!!"
"Where is this paper based? I'm gonna **********!"
"Gurararara! Let me take a look at that."
The paper, already smoldering from Phoenix flames, was extinguished by a shockwave and snatched up by a massive hand.
Whitebeard scanned the headline—and then burst out laughing.
"Gurararara! Someone wants to take my life? Then bring it on!!!"
Even without his IV tubes, Whitebeard was still as unshakable as ever.
"But still... hard to believe. In the blink of an eye, I'm the last one left."
"Don't say that, Pops! You're still young—you're the next Pirate King!"
"That's right, Pops! If anyone's worthy of being Pirate King, it's you!"
"Let's head for Laugh Tale!"
His loyal sons rushed to lift his spirits as the old man stared at the sea, lost in thought.
"Gurararara... I've got no interest in being Pirate King!"
...
The dungeons of Dressrosa.
At first, Cricket wasn't alone—his crewmates were with him.
Then, it was the dwarves who kept him company, trying to laugh through the pain.
Eventually, he was moved into a private cell.
A room just 1.7 meters in both length and width, 2.5 meters high.
Above him, a spotlight that never turned off.
At first, Cricket screamed in rage—but only his own voice echoed back at him.
Now, his bloodshot eyes stared blankly ahead.
His limbs were mangled, torn raw, but his fingertips still scraped back and forth against the stone wall.
He had managed to wear a small dent into the surface, only for it to repair itself in the blink of an eye—smooth and pristine once more.
Time had lost all meaning in this place.
Cricket didn't know how long he had been here—only that it had been a very long time.
What kept him alive were the faces of his missing crewmates and the dwarves—whether dead or alive, he didn't know.
Suddenly, a tray of food was pushed into the room.
The silence, the only thing he'd had left, was shattered.
...
Outside the thick dungeon walls, a feast was in full swing.
Face flushed with drink, Masira swallowed a mouthful of fighting fish and slurred a question to the man beside him.
"Shoujou... the captain's really gonna be okay, right?"
"How could he not be—uh, I mean... yeah, he'll be fine," Shoujou quickly corrected himself, catching the sharp look tossed his way. "All of Doflamingo's officers said he's just waiting for an audience with Lord Donquixote himself."
No way the captain was okay. But even if he wasn't, what could they do? They didn't have the power to fight back.
Still, if Doflamingo wanted a personal meeting, that probably meant the captain wasn't in immediate danger.
All they could do was hope the dwarves came through.
...
Gambling.
A game of risk, where something of value is wagered in hopes of winning more.
A form of human entertainment—and from it, countless roles have sprung: dealers, gamblers, shills who lure people in, and more.
Lust, excitement, rage, hatred, bloodlust.
If a demon ever needed to feed, they could walk into any casino and feast on all the negativity they'd ever want.
Issho—"Fujitora"—chose not to see such filth and chaos.
Not because he couldn't, but because he wouldn't. He had blinded himself and now looked at the world through his Observation Haki.
But today, Issho sat cross-legged at the bow of the ship, his cane-blade resting across his knees. His expression was unsettled.
Even with his Observation Haki, he couldn't read Doflamingo's thoughts.
The only thing he sensed was overwhelming danger.
Their destination was still unclear.
The ship drifted forward.
Then, a strange vessel appeared in Issho's mind's eye—a massive ship shaped like a firebird, wearing sunglasses.
Its wings were pressed flat against its sides, no sails in sight.
Instead, a large dome of transparent crystal covered the entire top.
"How does that thing even sail?" Issho wondered aloud.
"Fufufufufu~ Of course it doesn't sail the usual way," came a voice from above.
Startled, Issho turned toward the top of the flamingo-shaped figurehead, where Doflamingo stood grinning.
"Can you read minds, sir?" he asked.
Doflamingo patted the flamingo beneath his feet and shook his head.
"No no no—nothing like that. You were just too obvious. Everyone who sees this beauty reacts the same way."
He raised the newspaper in his hand, gesturing to the column of defeated challengers, reading it like a priest quoting scripture.
"As for reading minds, there's only one pirate on this sea capable of such a thing—our legendary Red the Aloof."
A sly smile curled his lips. "Me? I'm just a lucky Heavenly Yaksha."
"Luck alone isn't enough to handle someone like the Golden Lion," Issho countered.
He wasn't buying Doflamingo's humble act.
Issho sat up straighter. Though short, his presence was commanding.
"Sir," he said, his tone grave, "stirring up the seas like this... hosting such a massive tournament... what is your real goal?"
Issho had sensed something was wrong from the very beginning. He'd won his matches too easily.
Yet Baccarat hadn't used her powers on him. And he hadn't found the source of that strange feeling.
"Fufufufufufu! I like that question."
Doflamingo beamed, like a farmer basking in the glow of harvest.
"This tournament?" He pointed at Issho.
"Of course, it's for you!"
"Issho, I've taken quite a liking to you."
-----------
(For each review +1 additional chapter)
+277 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg