"Creak—creak—"
The wooden staircase groaned under the strain as Doflamingo and Crocodile descended one after the other, their steps heavy and deliberate.
When they reached the first floor, the scene before them was unmistakable.
The Donquixote Family's executives—Diamante, Pica, and the others, with Corazon among them—were all pressed flat against the walls like startled quail. Faces deathly pale, cold sweat streaming down their temples, not a single one dared to sit. No one even dared to breathe too loudly.
Every pair of eyes was fixed on the long sofa in the center of the hall, their gazes filled with fear and utter confusion.
And on that sofa… sat two people.
One of them sat perfectly upright, back straight, posture immaculate—none other than the world's greatest swordsman, Dracule "Hawk-Eye" Mihawk.
His massive black blade, Yoru, rested casually against the arm of the sofa, emitting a cold, ominous gleam. His hands were folded calmly over his abdomen, and beneath the brim of his hat, his gaze rested tranquilly on the staircase, as though he were simply waiting for an appointment arranged long ago.
The person seated beside him, however, was a study in absolute contrast.
That man was practically sprawled across the sofa, head tilted back, the back of his skull resting against the cushion. A hat was pulled low over his face, completely obscuring his features. His arms were stretched wide across the backrest, one leg cockily crossed over the other, the foot swinging lazily now and then.
The posture was careless, lazy—borderline insolent.
It stood in sharp contrast not only to Mihawk's rigid composure, but also to the terrifying Haki that man had unleashed moments earlier. The discrepancy was almost surreal.
Doflamingo reached the bottom of the stairs first and took in the entire scene.
The moment his subordinates saw their young master, they shot him pleading looks for help—yet none of them dared to move an inch.
Behind his sunglasses, Doflamingo's gaze swept across the hall. Almost immediately, his full attention was seized by the man sitting upright, exuding razor-sharp presence—Hawk-Eye Mihawk.
"Fufufufu…"The tension in Doflamingo's body eased instinctively, and a familiar low chuckle escaped his lips.
Mihawk was dangerous—extremely so—but at least he was a known quantity.
Subconsciously, Doflamingo concluded that the overwhelming Haki from earlier must have been Mihawk's doing.
"Well now, I didn't expect you to be the guest," Doflamingo said, his tone noticeably more relaxed, laced with feigned familiarity and probing intent."'Hawk-Eye' Mihawk… What an honor. Might I ask what brings you to my humble little place?"
But the moment Crocodile, who followed him down, heard those words—
He froze.
No… that's not it.
Crocodile had seen Mihawk before. He had felt the man's blade-like presence—the pure, honed aura of a swordsman who pursued the extreme of swordsmanship.
But that pressure just now—That overwhelming, tyrannical force that crushed others through sheer presence alone—
That was not something Mihawk specialized in.
As Crocodile stepped fully onto the first floor, his suspicious gaze swept across the sofa… and finally settled on the man slouching there, face hidden beneath a hat.
He couldn't see the face.
But that silhouette—
In the next instant, a long-buried memory—one that lingered like a nightmare—slammed violently into Crocodile's mind.
Years ago, at the Sabaody Archipelago.
Back when he was a rising Supernova, brimming with ambition—Before he could even react, that man had crushed him with a single kick.
Utterly destroyed.Captured on the spot.
His rise had ended the moment it began.
If not for his companions risking everything to pull him out, he would have vanished right there. That humiliation had driven him to flee into the New World in disgrace.
Now—
As Crocodile came back to himself, the figure from his memories began to overlap perfectly with the lazy silhouette sprawled across the sofa before him.
The realization hit like a lightning strike.
Crocodile's pupils shrank to pinpoints, and the words burst from his mouth almost involuntarily—his voice sharp, high, tinged with shock and a trace of fear he couldn't fully suppress.
"Gern?! 'Heaven-Shaker' Gern?!Why are you here?!"
The name detonated through the deathly silent hall like a thunderclap.
Doflamingo's smile froze solid.
Every Donquixote Family executive stared in horror at the slouched man on the sofa.
"Recognized already."Mihawk glanced sideways at the man beside him, his tone neutral.
At the sound of Mihawk's voice, Gern—under the weight of countless gazes—raised a long, slender hand and slowly lifted the hat from his face.
He remained reclined, never once looking at anyone. His eyes stayed fixed on the rough, uneven patterns of the ceiling as a faint, amused smile curved his lips.
"Tsk…"He clicked his tongue softly, sounding almost pleasantly surprised."I came here just to have a little chat with a flamingo…"
His gaze finally drifted downward, passing over Doflamingo without pause, before settling squarely on Crocodile's face—now pale to the extreme. The smile widened.
"Didn't expect an extra bonus.""Sir 'Sand Crocodile.'"
"One Paramecia… one Logia…"Gern rose slowly from the sofa, stretching lazily as if no one else were present. He let out an exaggerated yawn and muttered to himself,"Even coming down the stairs took that long… What a waste of time."
Only then did Doflamingo realize something.
From the moment Gern stood up—
Aside from that single glance at Crocodile, he had never once lifted his eyes to look at Doflamingo directly.
Gern's gaze hovered consistently… below his line of sight.
That unmistakable feeling of being completely ignored sent a surge of irritation through Doflamingo's pride.
Still, his face maintained its trademark, carefree grin as he subtly took a few steps forward, trying to close the distance.
Deep down, he remained convinced that his status as a former Celestial Dragon was a shield.Even if the man before him was a Marine Admiral, surely he wouldn't dare kill him outright.
"Fufufufufu… To think that a Marine Admiral—the mighty 'Heaven-Shaker' Gern—would grace a backwater like the North Blue with his presence," Doflamingo said with forced joviality."You honor this shabby little base of ours."
Seeing no reaction from Gern—who still didn't even bother to look at him—Doflamingo's irritation deepened.
He pressed on.
"Are Marine Admirals' eyes… placed on the tops of their heads?""Can't even spare a proper look at the person you're speaking to? That's rather rude, don't you think?"
The moment those words left his mouth, cold sweat poured down Crocodile's back.
He knew exactly how reckless—and suicidal—that provocation was.
"Hey! Doffy—don't—" Crocodile hissed under his breath.
But before he could finish—
Gern spoke.
His voice was calm, flat—yet carried an inexplicable weight.
"Our lines of sight don't match."
The meaningless-sounding statement stunned everyone present.
Even Crocodile and the smug Doflamingo froze.
"Huh?"Doflamingo frowned beneath his sunglasses, confusion and irritation flashing in his eyes."What kind of nonsense are you spouting? I—"
The moment the word "I" left his mouth—
A surge of Conqueror's Haki erupted from Gern's body.
This time, it was nothing like the casual suppression he'd used to clear fodder.
This was a concentrated, razor-sharp, overwhelmingly heavy torrent—A crushing force aimed with absolute precision at Doflamingo alone!
The smile vanished from Doflamingo's face.
An indescribable weight slammed into his soul!
Fueled by youthful arrogance, he roared instinctively, desperately forcing his own fledgling Conqueror's Haki to erupt in resistance.
"Graaah—!!"
It was pointless.
That pitiful spark of kingly potential shattered instantly—Like a firefly before the blazing sun, like glass crushed beneath a mountain.
"Kneel."
Gern's voice remained utterly calm—without the slightest ripple of emotion—yet it carried the unquestionable authority of a divine decree.
"THUD!!"
Doflamingo's knees gave out under the soul-crushing pressure.
With a sickening, bone-jarring impact, they slammed violently into the cold floor.
White-hot pain shot through his legs, but he couldn't even register it.
"Damn it…"A tidal wave of humiliation drowned him. Teeth clenched, veins bulging on his forehead, Doflamingo struggled to raise his head, fury burning in his chest as he tried to glare at Gern.
And in the instant his gaze finally met Gern's—
Those eyes, looking down at him like eternal ice—
Doflamingo understood.
He understood the true meaning of "our lines of sight don't match."
As expected—
Gern leaned forward slightly, those eyes that looked down on all living things fixed on the man kneeling before him—trembling under humiliation and pressure.
He spoke softly, as if stating the most obvious truth in the world.
"Doflamingo.""When you face me…"
"This—is—the height your eyes belong at."
Silence.
Absolute, tomb-like silence filled the first floor.
Every Donquixote executive was frozen in terror, not daring to breathe.
Crocodile stood rigid, face ashen, unable to move.
Only now did he fully grasp it—
The man before him was even more terrifying than the monster etched into his memories.
More dangerous.
More lawless.
Doflamingo knelt on the floor, gasping for breath. His sunglasses slipped slightly as his head bowed, revealing eyes filled with shock, humiliation, rage—and a fear he could not put into words.
He finally understood.
From the very beginning—
He had never been considered an equal.
The reason their "lines of sight didn't match" was simple.
From the very start, in that man's eyes—He was only ever fit to speak while kneeling.