And when he heard that Whitebeard, to obtain his second ability, had actually consumed six Devil Fruits…
That single piece of information exploded like a depth charge in Doflamingo's mind, creating a truly massive, chaotic storm.
How much money would that cost?
It would be an astronomical figure.
The first Enchantment was already ten billion.
The difficulty and cost of the second, as Ron had implied, would only increase.
From what these pirates were saying, the funds required for a guaranteed second ability, after five failures… it wouldn't be twenty billion.
Or thirty.
It could be forty, fifty… even over a hundred billion Berries, just for one man.
Even with his considerable financial resources, his underworld empire, his control of Dressrosa… such a massive amount of funds left him feeling, for the first time in a long time, genuinely strapped.
Faced with this new, terrifying reality, Doflamingo clearly understood his path.
The primary task, the only task that mattered right now, was to obtain those replicated Devil Fruits.
They were the key.
Only by possessing them could he proceed with the mass upgrade of his Family's strength.
Once his entire crew's power was enhanced, they would be able to firmly establish their footing in the New World, not as partners to a Yonko, but as a force in their own right.
After that, the next step would be to focus on accumulating wealth on a scale he had never even considered before.
Only with that kind of capital, the capital of a world power, could he even begin to prepare for his own second and third abilities.
With this cold, hard, pragmatic plan solidifying in his mind, Doflamingo slowly rose to his feet.
He gave a slight, respectful bow to Vice-Captain Ron, his voice reverting to a calm, business-like purr.
"I won't disturb you any further, Vice-Captain Ron. We will take our leave and return to our residence. We shall await your good news."
Then, Doflamingo led his men away, their earlier excitement now replaced by a silent, heavy sense of awe and renewed determination.
....
Two days later…
As a dazzling, sky-piercing beam of golden energy shot up from the laboratory, punching a hole through the clouds—a signal flare of pure, alchemical success that illuminated most of the sky—Ron's previously tense expression finally relaxed.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile of pure exhaustion and triumph curled at the corners of his lips.
The order was, at last, complete.
When Doflamingo was summoned, he entered the lab to a sight that staggered him.
On a massive, rustic wooden table, twenty identical, pale pink Devil Fruits were arranged in neat, perfect rows.
They pulsed with a soft, internal light, exuding an aura of mystery and unimaginable power.
Doflamingo stood nearby, his eyes wide with an astonishment he could hardly conceal.
The sheer, impossible uniformity of it all… the identical patterns, the exact same color… it was as if they had been stamped from a single mold.
The sight was so unnatural, so blasphemous to the laws of the world, that it almost made him suspect they were fakes.
But he knew they weren't.
"Seven," he whispered, his voice hoarse, as he pointed to the first row.
Seven Ice-Ice Fruits, emitting a faint, visible chill that hazed the air around them.
"Six…" he continued, his gaze drifting to the next row, which shone with a dazzling, almost blinding radiance.
The Glint-glint Fruits.
"Five…"
The Mythical Zoan Phoenix Fruits, swirling with a gentle, warm, golden energy.
And finally, two Float-Float Fruits, resting peacefully at the end.
Not one more, not one less.
Exactly twenty fruits.
"Doffy… am I… am I seeing this right?" Diamante's voice trembled, as if each word were being squeezed out with great difficulty from the depths of his throat.
"Are those really… seven Admiral Aokiji fruits?" He stared dumbfounded, standing as if petrified, his mind blank except for the magnified image of a power that could freeze the entire ocean.
"If even one of these were released into the world, it would incite a war," Doflamingo murmured, a meaningful, predatory smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"But this… this…"
His gaze swept over each fruit, one by one, as if he could already envision the future seas thrown into a madness and turmoil that he would be orchestrating.
"The entire sea will go mad over this! So many Logia types… it's simply unheard of!" an executive exclaimed, their voice thick with fervor and a raw, greedy longing.
"I say, I say, Doffy!" Trebol eagerly jumped forward, his eyes wide and manic, drool trickling from his nose.
"Can I eat the Ice-Ice Fruit? Behehe! My Sticky-Sticky Fruit is too soft! Everyone says I'm useless! I want to become the hardest man!"
Bellamy, his heart pounding, stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the two fruits at the end of the table.
"Young Master," he said, his voice firm and full of anticipation.
"I still wish to become a Float-Float Fruit user." He gritted his teeth, his decision made.
"Even if it means losing my original ability, I won't hesitate!"
Only after hearing their conversation did the other executives finally snap out of their daze, the full implication dawning on them.
'Right, these are replacements.'
But when they looked again at the Devil Fruits, at the Admiral-class powers just sitting there, their desire instantly, completely overwhelmed their reason.
"But so what?" Diamante roared with laughter. "My cape fruit is fun, but gaining an Admiral-level ability? It's worth everything!"
In this moment of overwhelming temptation, they could no longer hold back.
Doflamingo turned to Ron, his smile wide and sharp.
"Thank you, Vice-Captain Ron. We'll take these fruits."
He motioned for his men to step forward, but a massive, diamond-hard arm blocked their path.
Jozu, who had been standing silently in the corner, stepped forward, his expression like stone.
"Not so fast, Flamingo," he grunted, the disrespectful nickname cutting through the excitement.
"First, you sign the contract. Then, your men eat the fruits. Right here, in front of us. That's the most basic rule of the transaction."
Doflamingo's face instantly darkened.
'Flamingo? 'he seethed inwardly.
'As expected, nothing good ever comes from following that annoying, muscle-bound old man, Whitebeard. Such an ill-mannered fellow.'
But on the surface, he merely suppressed his displeasure and let out a cold, airy snort.
"Hmph! I know the rules."
At that moment, Marco leaped gracefully into the air.
He soared outside for a moment, his figure tracing a graceful arc as he swiftly plucked several fresh, large leaves from the great Tree of Covenant.
He landed like a feather between the table of fruits and Doflamingo.
"Come," he said, his voice calm and business-like. "Let's sign the contract, yoi."
The leaves in his hands seemed to be imbued with a magical power.
As the Donquixote Family watched in stunned silence, the leaves rapidly transformed, their green surfaces shifting and solidifying into sheets of glowing, golden parchment.
The stems miraculously hardened and sharpened, becoming the very pens needed to sign.
Doflamingo, ignoring this casual display of impossible magic, turned to his loyal, excited family.
With a magnanimous, kingly gesture, he smiled.
"Go ahead," he said, his voice full of generosity.
"Whoever eats which fruit, sign for it. Choose your new future."