"Oh?" Doflamingo froze for a fraction of a second, the gears in his mind grinding to a halt as he processed Ron's subtle but significant correction.
But soon, the full implication dawned on him, and he burst into that strange, unsettling laugh once more.
"Fufufufu! Right, right—it's cooperation!"
He knew he'd been put in his place, but he was far too elated by the potential gains to care.
He was a pragmatist above all else.
He extended his own hand, his grip surprisingly firm as they shook.
"A pleasure cooperating with you."
"Likewise," Ron replied with a smile that was all business.
With that, the monumental deal was officially established.
The air, once thick with tension and suspicion, now buzzed with a shared, greedy excitement.
Everyone was satisfied, grinning as if they had all just won the lottery. It was, on the surface, a win-win situation.
"Ron, how many copies of the contract should we prepare?" Haruta asked respectfully, ready to pluck out an entire wig's worth of hair if necessary.
"No need for now," Ron replied, waving him off.
"We'll handle the official signing when the fruits are ready for delivery."
A subtle but clear message: the deal is only done when I say it's done.
"Understood."
With the specific terms to follow, things became relatively straightforward.
As Ron had explained, he would prioritize completing Doflamingo's massive order first.
After all, the Heavenly Yaksha was the first truly major client he had acquired, a veritable whale in the chaotic sea of the underworld.
This order had to take precedence.
Doflamingo, of course, wasn't in a hurry to leave.
Having already waited and schemed for so long, what difference would a few more days make?
Especially when the payoff was this immense.
So, he readily agreed to accompany Ron and the others to their base of operations.
The entire Donquixote Family would be bound by contract soon enough; there wasn't much to worry about.
Besides, they were all intensely curious.
It was the first time any of them had heard that the nomadic Whitebeard Pirates even had a permanent base.
Weren't they a fleet that was always sailing the seas, a force of nature without a home?
This revelation alone was shocking.
The other Yonko consolidated their power by conquering territories and establishing island strongholds in the New World.
But the moment they set foot in the first half of the Grand Line, Paradise, they would face the relentless suppression of the Navy.
Yet, unexpectedly, the Whitebeard Pirates had ingeniously built their base in the sky.
This unique, impossible location left the World Government and the Navy completely helpless.
It was quite literally beyond their jurisdiction.
...
High above the clouds, the journey was a surreal and terrifying experience for the Donquixote Family.
Bellamy was plastered to the back of the massive, ethereal dragon they were riding, his entire body pressed flat as if he were trying to merge with its scales.
His muscles trembled uncontrollably, a physical betrayal of the terror that had seized him.
His once-arrogant eyes now flickered with raw panic, and beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking his bandana.
"We're at an unimaginable height," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.
"If we fall from here… we'll be nothing but a red stain on the sea."
The other executives were utterly petrified.
Diamante, usually so boisterous, was uncharacteristically silent, his eyes squeezed shut as if refusing to acknowledge the terrifying reality of the endless blue void below.
His knuckles were bone-white where he gripped the dragon's spine.
Gladius looked like he was about to pop, his face pale and his body rigid.
"We absolutely cannot fall," one of them whimpered. "This would be the end!"
Doflamingo, of course, had only brought his most trusted confidants on this mission.
Every single person present was a loyalist who had proven their devotion time and time again.
He was acutely aware of the sensitivity of dealing with a legend like the Golden Lion; the fewer people who knew, the better.
Just as the crew was lost in their shared terror, one of the lookouts suddenly shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief.
"Look, Young Master! Over there! There really are islands up here!"
Every eye instantly snapped toward the direction he pointed.
Amid the endless ocean of white clouds, two massive landmasses loomed faintly in the distance—one towering and wild like a natural fortress, the other smaller, yet no less peculiar, with what looked like the ruins of an ancient city.
"Hiss...!" Diamante couldn't help but gasp, his voice thick with awe as he finally dared to open his eyes.
"The islands… they're actually floating in mid-air!"
The sight of land defying the very laws of nature inspired a profound reverence and a deep-seated dread.
"Unbelievable," Trebol stammered.
Doflamingo's gaze pierced through the layers of mist, taking in the distant spectacle.
Sure enough, as the dragon flew closer, the two islands gradually came into sharp focus.
They were suspended in the sky as if held by an invisible, divine hand, just as the impossible rumors described.
They looked like something torn from a dream, exuding an otherworldly aura.
Sunlight etched their outlines, revealing lush, primeval forests, the scattered ruins of ancient structures, and, on the smaller island, a faint golden glimmer that took his breath away.
It was at that moment that Bellamy let out a choked gasp.
His jaw went slack with utter amazement, his eyes widening as he recognized the source of that glimmer.
"That's… the legendary City of Gold," he breathed, his voice trembling with a barely contained, hysterical excitement.
He stared, desperate to sear this miracle into his very memory.
"The legends… the legends are real! Montblanc Noland… he wasn't a liar! The City of Gold exists!" he muttered, completely overwhelmed by an indescribable awe.
Once upon a time, not so long ago, he had scoffed at such stories.
He had built his entire identity on a philosophy of brutal pragmatism, dismissing dreams and legends as the foolish fabrications of weaklings.
He had sneered at those who chased fantasies, mocked their "impractical" hopes with his fists.
But the real, undeniable, impossible scene before his eyes changed everything.
In his mind, an inexplicable sound of shattering echoed—it was the sound of his entire cynical worldview breaking apart like cheap glass.
Faced with this unbelievable sight, his heart was profoundly shaken.
In place of his mockery, a new reverence and curiosity for the vast, unknown world began to bloom, along with a deep, crushing shame for the man he used to be.
The legend of the Golden Land was true.
And he had been the fool all along.
The others were also drawn to this strange spectacle, their gazes turning toward the two islands, their faces mirroring expressions of shock and wonder.
Noticing his subordinate's unusually intense reaction, a flicker of keen interest flashed in Doflamingo's eyes.
He had seen Bellamy in a state of fear, but never in a state of pure, soul-shaking awe.
"Montblanc Noland?" Doflamingo purred, his voice cutting through Bellamy's stupor.
"The Great Liar? And what legend is that?"