"Fufufu~ Unfortunately, my parents passed away long ago," Doflamingo smirked, brushing his hair back. "Not sure if I even had an Uncle Ben."He gestured ahead, eyes glinting. "Lord Bravoc, we've arrived—Sabaody Archipelago lies just up ahead."
Bravoc slowed down out of courtesy for his slower "meal ticket."
And what a sight.
An island formed from seventy-nine colossal Yarukiman Mangrove trees, each one big enough to house an entire district.
Zones 1–29: Lawless and filthy, crawling with slavers and worse.
Zones 30–39: Leisure district—bubble parks, tourists, amusement traps.
Zones 40–49: Souvenirs and scenic spots.
Zones 50–59: Coating docks and artisan workshops.
Zones 60–69: Government offices and Marine patrols.
Zones 70–79: Hotels and high-end travel stops.
As they flew over the trees, Doflamingo rattled off the layout with casual flair, while inwardly plotting the next phase of his ambitions.
Originally, his plan was simple: visit the lawless zone, get a ship from the Marine port, and head to Marineford. He could've flown, but where was the fun in that?
Besides, some dealings—like a "reminder" visit to a certain gassy scientist on Punk Hazard—were better kept off Marine radar.
But now?
Now everything had changed.
Lord Bravoc came first.
If he could pull this wild card into the Donquixote Family, their influence would skyrocket. Warlord? Please. He'd become kingmaker.
Their immediate destination: Zone 35—Sabaody's famous gourmet street. A culinary battleground where chefs fought for glory, and some had even won top honors on Chef's Island.
The light pouring through the resin canopy bathed the mangrove tops in golden shimmer. Below, multicolored bubbles floated upward from mossy roots, drifting like lazy fireflies before popping with soft pops. A fairy-tale scene—until your ears adjusted.
From nearby Zone 43 came sharp, unpleasant noises. The clink of chains. The crack of mallets. And once in a while, a cry—brief, but unmistakably human.
The coating port. And a reminder.
This was still a pirate world.
A land sugar-coated with dreams… and rotting underneath.
But Bravoc wasn't surprised.
Most worlds were like that.
"We've arrived, Lord Bravoc," Doflamingo announced, bowing with unnatural courtesy. "Forgive the humble setting. Once we return to Dressrosa, I'll host a feast worthy of a god."
In truth, he'd already booked the finest place on the island. The bill could bankrupt a mid-tier pirate crew. Not that he cared.
Not when entertaining someone like Bravoc.
Inside the restaurant's private grand hall, Doflamingo sat with a wine glass in hand. He barely touched it. His eyes were glued to the whirlwind of chaos across the banquet table.
Dozens of servers scrambled to bring in dish after dish, only to be instantly overpowered by a blur of motion.
CRUNCH.
A roasted pig—no, a small boat disguised as a roast—was hoisted and devoured like a snack. Bravoc, tail flicking behind him, bit clean through ribs and bone, chewing like a sentient meat grinder.
His jaw bulged, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his throat swallowed entire slabs with terrifying ease.
The servers could only retreat in wide-eyed terror.
"L-Lord Doflamingo," the restaurant manager whispered, pale with sweat. "W-we're out of food…"
"Are you suggesting I serve you up next?" Doflamingo's tone sharpened in an instant.
"N-No! We'll raid the nearby kitchens! Right away, sir!"
"Fufufu~ Good," he chuckled darkly, then turned back to Bravoc. "As expected of Lord Bravoc—not just devastating in battle, but even his appetite is a force of nature."
Tens of millions of Berries gone in one sitting.
And Doflamingo had never been happier to pay it.
Because Bravoc… looked happy.
As for Bravoc?
He was in heaven.
Back on Earth, he'd grown up in a food-obsessed country, sure. But as a broke office worker, his meals had mostly been microwave ramen and street curry.
Then came the Dragon Ball world.
As a Saiyan grunt under Frieza's army, it only got worse. You either choked down military nutrient cubes—efficient but disgusting—or scavenged whatever you could on conquered planets. Which usually meant slimy tentacle stew or "meat" that blinked.
He'd once seduced a powerful female Saiyan with a battle level of 5,000 just for access to her private food stash.
Desperate times.
But here?
Here, in Pirate World…
This was paradise.
Sizzling roast meats, seasoned sea monsters, bubbling stew pots, and sauces that made his taste buds do somersaults.
Bravoc grinned as he sank his teeth into another creature, something between a lobster and a dragon.
Forget the One Piece.
He was going to eat his way across the Grand Line.