"Yamato, Doflamingo-sama has already left," Jora interrupted the silent staring match between the two kids.
"Ahhh..." Yamato slumped, clearly disappointed.
"Miss Jora, can we come in?"
Weevil's massive head cautiously peeked in through the doorway.
Buffalo's round head popped up just beneath Weevil's.
Seeing the hall empty—no sign of the Godfather—Weevil looked disheartened.
He had really wanted to see his mom.
"No way!"
Jora cut him off flatly.
With his size? Absolutely not. This palace was no place for someone like him to be stomping around.
With that, Jora reached out, took Monet's hand, and gently placed it into Yamato's.
"Yamato, this is Monet. She's part of the family now—someone the Young Lord brought back himself. A companion of yours. And Monet, this is Yamato, a guest of the Young Lord."
Yamato's disappointment vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced with a bright, energetic smile aimed at Monet.
"Nice to meet you, Monet! I'm Yamato! But… why do you look like you hate me already?"
...Huh? Monet blinked, caught completely off guard.
Is she an idiot?
She froze, her whole body stiff, saying nothing.
Meanwhile, Jora was happily skipping off to the back, having shooed all the little brats away.
She couldn't wait to see Zoffy and Ace again. It had only been a short while, but she missed them already!
...
Sky Island
"Where… am I?"
Issho, bloodied and broken after being nearly killed by Doflamingo, had finally awakened after lying unconscious for more than a month.
A heavy weakness clung to every nerve in his body as he stirred.
Struggling to his feet on legs that had gone thin and frail, he touched the sea prism stone shackles binding him.
He understood right away—he had been captured.
But… why wasn't this a prison? And why was there no guard in sight?
Issho quietly extended his Observation Haki, reaching out with his senses.
The ground felt strange—soft, almost unreal.
The peace, the quiet… it didn't feel like the sea. It felt like a dream.
Suddenly, a presence surged into his range—fierce, blazing like a wild beast.
Not far away.
Issho began to walk toward it, his steps heavy and slow.
...
In a nearby zone—
Bullet's skill in forging island clouds had grown sharper by the day.
Even shackled as he was, he worked faster and better than most people ever could.
He labored to earn his meals, and life had become surprisingly satisfying.
Despite the sea stine shackles preventing him from using his abilities, the intense restriction had a strange effect—
He was learning more about his body, gaining a finer sense of control.
And once the shackles came off... he was certain he'd find the path to awakening.
If this kept up…
Next time, he'd defeat Doflamingo for sure!
If only that annoying little brat beside him would just vanish.
Just across the wall, Law was crawling behind him, weighed down by chains made of cloud-forged iron.
His bruised and battered face said everything—life in the combat unit's Class had not been kind.
Bullet glanced over his shoulder at the kid, who was drenched in sweat.
He was just about to head off for food when he couldn't hold it in anymore and yelled out:
"Brat! You've been tailing me since morning—what the hell do you want?!"
"Lord Doflamingo… said that if I can't find a way to grow stronger on my own, I should start by imitating the strong."
The strong, huh? This brat's got a good eye. Bullet puffed his chest, just a little.
But Law, panting heavily, hadn't finished.
"You lost to Lord Doflamingo, but you didn't die. That means you must be strong."
"Get lost, brat!"
Bullet's face turned pitch black with rage. Sure, the kid was calling him strong—but it still didn't sit right.
Damn it. All this crap was because of that mutt Doflamingo...
...
"Hey… could you tell me where we are?"
Issho's voice floated in, calm as he stepped forward.
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