-Broadcast-
The evening's grand festivities in Dressrosa had drawn celebrities from across the world. The higher one's station, the more certain their invitation from Doflamingo himself. Yet some guests required no invitation at all—the bloated descendants of the Twenty Kingdoms would have sailed here regardless, drawn like moths to any spectacle promising sufficient entertainment.
Though the streets hadn't been cleared for their passage—an oversight that would have meant death in Mary Geoise—the citizens of Dressrosa knew their place. They lined the roads in respectful silence, heads bowed as they offered the Celestial Dragons the deference typically reserved for their own king.
These self-proclaimed gods retained human bodies but harbored contempt for all other races, humanity included. Even the very air seemed beneath their station. Each wore a crystalline bubble helmet, protecting their divine lungs from contamination by the same atmosphere breathed by lesser beings. To share air with common filth would be an intolerable insult to their celestial nature.
At the procession's head rode Saint Charlos, his bubble mask fogged with condensation from his labored breathing. He gripped leather reins with both pudgy hands, the other end looped around the neck of his human mount. A single sharp tug could choke the life from the man beneath him at any moment.
"Move faster, you worthless wretch!" Charlos barked, yanking the reins viciously. "Didn't they feed you yesterday?"
The blonde figure beneath him—muscular frame gleaming with sweat—responded by activating his Devil Fruit power. His limbs transformed into coiled springs, launching them both into rhythmic, bouncing leaps down the street. The sight brought delighted cackles from his master, who found the springy ride both exhilarating and practical—the elevated vantage point allowed him to better survey the crowds for potential additions to his collection of wives.
Character Note: Saint Charlos - World Noble
Beside them walked a female Celestial Dragon, her face hidden behind designer sunglasses and an ornate veil, a jeweled pug trotting at her heel. Her elderly father kept pace alongside, his own collection of slaves trailing behind like a grotesque parade.
"Father, why was that criminal who dared strike my brother permitted to come here?" Saint Shalria's voice dripped with disdain. "Their entire bloodline brings shame upon our divine heritage."
Character Note: Saint Shalria - World Noble
The patriarch of their twisted family, Saint Rosward, stroked his elaborate beard thoughtfully. Behind him shuffled a broken man who had once commanded his own pirate crew—now reduced to nothing more than another trophy. "Blame his sister's influence," he replied with casual cruelty. "Saint Donquixote Mjosgard possesses a sibling capable of tearing the very heavens apart. When the Knights of God sentenced his brother to execution, she stormed the scaffold and rescued him before their very eyes. Even the Gorosei could only swallow their pride and accept it."
Character Note: Saint Rosward - World Noble
"And now she collaborates openly with the Marines," Shalria continued, her tone suggesting this was somehow even more offensive than the rescue. "A Celestial Dragon abandoning her divine birthright to become a mere Admiral. With such power, why not join the Knights of God instead?"
Their attention turned to the fourth member of their party—a figure who stood apart from their gaudy procession like a shadow of conscience. Unlike his companions, this green-haired man walked without the protection of an oxygen bubble, breathing the same air as the commoners around him. Among Celestial Dragons, he was an anomaly, and the surname Donquixote had always bred such peculiarities.
"Doflamingo," he murmured, his words barely audible even to the white-suited agents flanking him. "What game are you truly playing? Do you still harbor dreams of reclaiming your celestial birthright?"
Character Note: Saint Donquixote Mjosgard - World Noble
The presence of four Celestial Dragons at Doflamingo's music festival represented an unprecedented show of respect for the former World Noble. Originally, the Heavenly Yaksha had extended his invitation to Saint Mjosgard alone, never expecting Saint Charlos to arrive with his entire dysfunctional family in tow.
Behind this divine cavalcade came the true parade of power—kings, queens, and high-ranking officials from World Government member nations. These secondary nobility would follow the same route to the massive outdoor venue, where over a hundred thousand souls would gather for what promised to be an unforgettable spectacle.
Doflamingo's generosity knew no bounds tonight. Every participant would enjoy unlimited food and drink, all provided free of charge. The festival's theme was freedom itself—liberty to indulge every desire without consequence or cost.
As expected, the nobility claimed the premium viewing platforms first, their elevated positions offering perfect sightlines to the main stage. Only after their social betters had settled did the common folk flood through the gates, a tide of eager faces ready to forget their troubles in revelry.
Hidden within this surge of humanity, two familiar figures made their entrance. Nami had disguised herself in common festival attire, while Sanji had opted for more dramatic camouflage—a burgundy dress that accentuated his figure, a slender cigarette dangling from painted lips. They moved with the crowd's flow, two more anonymous faces in the sea of celebration.
"That damned family again," Nami muttered, memories of Sabaody Archipelago flashing through her mind. Luffy's assault on Saint Charlos had ultimately scattered their crew across the world, forcing them into 5 years of separate training and growth.
"Wait," Sanji paused, studying the blonde figure still bouncing beneath the Celestial Dragon's weight. "Wasn't that man on Jaya Island? The spring-powered fool who looked down on everyone until Luffy flattened him with a single punch."
The recognition was bitter. Bellamy the Hyena, once so proud of his connection to Doflamingo, had fallen to the ultimate degradation—serving as a living vehicle for the world's most despised beings. Whatever circumstances had led to this fate, Sanji felt no satisfaction in witnessing it. The ocean's law was cruel enough without taking pleasure in another's suffering.
Inside the festival grounds, the atmosphere bordered on magical. Gorgeous servers moved through the crowds with trays of delicacies and fine wines, their practiced smiles never faltering as they catered to every whim. The main stage pulsed with music and light, drawing thousands of eyes while smaller performances played out across multiple venues. For many of these people, tonight represented the finest entertainment they would ever experience.
The sheer cost was staggering—feeding and providing drinks for hundreds of thousands required resources that boggled the mind. Even someone as money-conscious as Nami struggled to calculate the astronomical expense. What return could possibly justify such an investment?
As one of the handsome servers approached their position, Nami reached automatically for the offered wine glass. But before the crystal could touch her lips, something stirred within her clothing—a small serpent emerging from the folds of her outfit to knock the glass from her grasp.
"Arashi?" she whispered, watching her weather-predicting snake's agitated movements. The creature had never displayed such distress, its tiny head weaving frantically as if sensing invisible danger. "Is there something wrong with the wine?"
Understanding flooded through her. Without hesitation, she rushed to Sanji's side, slapping the glass from his hands before he could drink. "Don't touch it!" she hissed urgently. "Something's wrong with everything they're serving!"
Arashi retreated into the warmth of her clothes, leaving the two Straw Hat pirates standing awkwardly amid the celebration. Around them, nobles and commoners alike continued drinking and feasting with abandon, their laughter and conversations creating a tapestry of joy that now felt deeply sinister.
Ninety-nine percent of the festival-goers had already consumed the Donquixote family's hospitality. Even if warned by complete strangers, most would dismiss such concerns—the immediate pleasure of free food and drink outweighed abstract fears of poison or trickery. For people who struggled daily just to survive, tomorrow's worries seemed less important than tonight's feast.
The festival continued its crescendo as evening deepened. On the main stage, the opening acts reached their finale with spectacular displays of music and light. Soon, the true entertainment would begin—and with it, whatever dark purpose had drawn Doflamingo to spend such an fortune on this elaborate spectacle.
In the VIP sections, Celestial Dragons settled into their golden thrones, eager for the show to commence. In the common areas, thousands of citizens cheered and applauded, unaware that they may have already sealed their own fates. And hidden among them all, two pirates watched and waited, the only souls in attendance who understood that tonight's celebration might well become tomorrow's nightmare.