Who was Donquixote Doflamingo?
A former Celestial Dragon.
One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
The undisputed emperor of the underworld.
Each title alone was enough to shake the world—
yet such a man had died quietly, without warning,
in his own kingdom.
To the World Government, it was a nightmare.
A Warlord they had personally sanctioned, slaughtered under their nose?
How could the people still trust the power that had chosen him?
The Den-Den Mushi on Fleet Admiral Sengoku's desk suddenly rang.
"Have you found anything?"
Sengoku snatched up the receiver, his tone sharp.
"Fleet Admiral… w-we can't investigate any further…"
The trembling voice on the other end reeked of terror.
"What? What happened?!"
"A man-eating monster—!"
"It—it was a man-eating monster that killed Doflamingo!"
Screams crackled through the line.
"Fleet Admiral! There's a monster here—help me—ahhhh—!"
The line went dead.
Sengoku stared at the silent receiver, jaw tight.
"Damn it!"
Another team gone.
And that name—"Man-Eating Monster"—wasn't even a name, just a nightmare whispered in fear.
Whoever it was had killed Donquixote Doflamingo—
and no one could even identify him.
"Who is this person?"
Sengoku's brow furrowed.
"Someone powerful enough to kill Doflamingo couldn't just appear out of nowhere!"
The Navy's intelligence network reached across the globe.
No fighter of that caliber could exist without being recorded.
Yet here was an unknown—
a ghost who had slain a Warlord and vanished into legend.
"We need answers."
He slammed the desk.
"Send for Vice Admiral Maynard. I want him in my office—now!"
A storm was brewing in Marineford.
Dressrosa — Shadowed Alley
"So the World Government's rats finally got impatient, huh?"
In the narrow backstreets, White Flame exhaled a stream of smoke.
The faint glow of his cigarette lit the bodies at his feet—
a half-dozen CP0 agents sprawled in their own blood.
They had followed him for days.
He had ignored them—until they got too bold.
Now, they were meat for the flies.
"If the Government's already watching me," he muttered,
"then I suppose my time in Dressrosa is over."
He looked up at the sky.
It had been exactly one month since Doflamingo's death.
In that month, Dressrosa had become a beacon—and a target.
Pirates from the New World, furious over the collapse of their arms and SMILE trade,
descended on the island like vultures.
Without Doflamingo, they had no weapons, no power—
and so they turned their rage on innocent civilians.
Dressrosa's small army was helpless.
They were not a nation built for war.
Even the mighty Kyros, the undefeated gladiator of the Corrida Colosseum,
could not stand alone against the fleets that came.
To the people, it was a disaster.
To White Flame—it was an opportunity.
"So Doflamingo still has his uses, even after death."
He smirked faintly, crushing his cigarette underfoot.
"All these fools rushing here in anger…
They're perfect IBM feedstock."
"Has Little Six finished off that New World fleet yet?"
He felt the surge of heat through his body—
the signal of his IBMs feeding on new prey.
"Good," he murmured.
"Their Haki was decent. My own's getting sharper too."
The energy flowed into him like fire through his veins.
Strength. Endurance. Awareness. All of it rising.
"Time to move on."
White Flame flicked the ash from his fingers and leapt skyward,
his foot catching on a nearly invisible thread of hardened string.
He soared above the rooftops, gliding across the capital
like a ghost in the wind.
He landed silently at the window of a modest, hidden apartment—
his temporary refuge from the ever-curious eyes of the public.
The door creaked as he stepped inside.
He shrugged off his coat and let it fall to the floor.
From the kitchen, a soft voice called out:
"You're back!"
A woman appeared, carrying a tray of steaming food.
Her hair was tied neatly, her cheeks flushed from the heat of cooking.
It was Baby 5,
the only member of the Donquixote Family who had escaped punishment besides Viola.
Gone was the cigarette between her lips, gone the rebellious smirk.
In its place stood a gentle, almost domestic smile—
a far cry from the gun-wielding assassin she once was.
"It's been a month," she said quietly.
"Your wounds should've healed by now…"
But before she could say more, White Flame's eyes turned cold.
"Don't."
His voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Don't make yourself comfortable here."
"And don't think your little act will work on me."
He turned away, unbothered by her hurt expression.
"Leave my room. Now."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Outside, the waves crashed against Dressrosa's cliffs—
and somewhere in the distance, the world continued to tremble
from the death of one man…
and the rise of another.
If you Enjoyed Reading
Visit my p@treon for more chapters
Advance 80+ Chapters Available
patreon.com/Sagamaster789
If you really Enjoyed Reading. Give Power Stones and Reviews !