The Red Line.
Holy Land Mary Geoise, Pangaea Castle Chamber of Deliberation.
"Don't you think this operation is a bit too risky?"
Saint Figarland Garling lounged on a plush leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a cup of steaming tea balanced casually in his hand.
He took a slow sip and said coolly, "Given Doflamingo's nature, that little brat has never struck me as someone capable of letting go of a grudge."
"That kid shot his own father dead when he was barely ten, then dragged the man's severed head back to Mary Geoise… Tsk. I can still picture the bloodstains on the Stairway to Heaven."
A soft chuckle slipped out.
"But what truly stuck with me was the look on his face when you rejected him after he'd sacrificed everything to return as a Celestial Dragon. That expression—desperate and powerless. The look of someone realizing, 'I killed my father for nothing.'"
"And to put a maniac like that as my second-in-command… Sometimes it makes me wonder if you don't trust me and assigned him just to sabotage my efforts."
Saint Saturn cast him a sidelong glance. "Garling, if we didn't trust you, we would never have appointed you Commander of the Knights of God."
"As for Doflamingo, you're right—he is unpredictable. But in the current situation, he's still the most logical choice."
Saint Warcury spoke next, his tone low and steady. "The battle at Felsek Island, combined with the incident at Mary Geoise… these disasters wiped out the elite Celestial Dragon ranks. Rogers Darren and his North Blue Fleet slaughtered almost all the promising candidates among the younger generation of the Knights of God."
"You are well aware of this."
"Flawed as he may be, Doflamingo carries Celestial Dragon blood. And since becoming a Shichibukai, his influence has grown sharply. He's clashed with the Big Mom Pirates and the Whitebeard Pirates without losing ground."
"Add to that his position as an Underworld Emperor, and he's already proven his value."
Figarland Garling gave a dismissive shrug. "I doubt those are your real reasons. Bringing an unstable element—one who despises the World Government and hates all of you—straight into the Holy Land? Those surface-level justifications aren't enough."
"You want an Executioner's Blade."
Saint Nusjuro, who had been silently polishing his Demon Blade, finally spoke. His voice was raspy, cold.
"Me?" Garling paused, genuinely puzzled.
Saint Warcury rose, his long dark robes rippling like a storm wind. An overwhelming aura radiated from him, wisdom glinting in his aged eyes.
"For eight hundred years, the World Government has ruled the seas. And while amassing immense power, we've also allowed filth to fester within the Holy Land."
His words were like a winter blade, his gaze fixed on the distant Land of the Gods—the heart of Celestial Dragon society.
"The once-mighty Clan of God has rotted into a herd of gluttonous, lazy pigs."
"Back at God Valley's Native Hunting Competition, there was at least a 'King' like you, Figarland Garling. But twelve years later at Felsek, we couldn't find even one promising candidate."
"Your own nephew sparked a conflict with Rogers Darren… and lost his head for it."
Garling remained expressionless.
He knew the boy well enough. The kid had talent—not at the level of true monsters, but certainly gifted. Yet pampered parents had inflated his ego until he saw no one as his equal, flaunting the Figarland name for his own petty indulgences.
His death at Darren's hand? Garling found it neither surprising nor worth avenging.
The boy had been weak. Outmatched. End of story.
"So what?" Garling said lightly. "What does any of that have to do with your decision to bring Doflamingo back? And as for an Executioner's Blade, I already have one."
He tapped the griffin-hilted rapier at his hip.
Saint Warcury shook his head. "No. Your sword is meant to intimidate enemies. But the Holy Land has been at peace for too long. Even the North Blue Fleet couldn't shake our fellow Celestial Dragons awake."
"The Clan of God needs a radical transformation."
"Strict laws. A clear training system. Every young Celestial Dragon must undergo military training."
"In that case, Doflamingo will serve well. Doesn't he crave revenge on the Celestial Dragons who scorned him? Joining the Knights of God will grant him the power to judge and punish."
Garling listened quietly, glanced around at the Gorosei, and then burst into an amused laugh.
"And then?"
"You'll let Doflamingo butcher Celestial Dragons so the Commander of the Knights of God doesn't get his own hands dirty?"
"And once the revolution ends, you just toss him aside?"
Saint Saturn replied evenly, "Without prey, the executioner's blade naturally becomes obsolete."
"By then, he will have fulfilled his final purpose."
Garling chuckled again, eyes glimmering with curiosity. "But have you considered that the Celestial Dragons Doflamingo most wants to kill… may be you five old men?"
He hadn't expected what followed.
As his words settled, slow, knowing smiles spread across all five faces.
"We are well aware."
"That is precisely why we keep him close—right under our noses."
"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer… isn't that how the saying goes?"
---
At that same moment…
New World, Wano Country.
Onigashima Laboratory.
Darren set down the Den Den Mushi and let out a quiet chuckle.
So, I really did wipe out the younger generation of elite Celestial Dragons in the Holy Land.
The Gorosei had been forced to call back Doflamingo, a "Celestial Dragon bloodline" who had been wandering abroad for years.
Something still felt off, but at the heart of it, this was simply the Gorosei and Darren waging a remote power struggle over Doflamingo's fate.
Darren exhaled softly and turned—only to find a pair of wide eyes filling his entire view.
"H-he called you… Godfather?" Dragon stammered, staring at him as if he'd just seen a ghost.
To be continued...