"Dover!"
Trebol's distinctive nasal voice cut through the silence as he approached with several family members in tow. The sight that greeted them defied their worst expectations, the battlefield bore scars that spoke to devastation on an almost geological scale. Massive trenches carved through bedrock, crystallized glass formations where superheated air had fused sand and stone, and craters that suggested the deployment of weapons beyond conventional understanding.
When his eyes fell upon Doflamingo's broken form sprawled among the rubble, Trebol's characteristic composure cracked completely. Blood stained the Heavenly Demon's pink feathered coat while wounds covered his body like a roadmap of systematic defeat. Yet despite his obvious injuries, the young master continued studying something at his fingertips with fascination that bordered on obsession.
Red threads flowed from his fingers like liquid silk, their crimson hue gleaming with an inner light that defied natural explanation. Each strand seemed to pulse with vitality that transcended his normal string-based abilities.
"Dover~ Are you okay?" Trebol rushed forward, his mucus-covered features twisted with concern.
But Joker's only response was that characteristic low laughter, his attention completely absorbed by the transformed manifestation of his Devil Fruit powers. The threads danced between his fingers with hypnotic beauty, creating patterns that seemed to bend light itself.
"This is... that guy did it?" Diamante surveyed the devastation with professional assessment, his tactical mind struggling to categorize the types of attacks that could have created such comprehensive destruction.
The landscape resembled the aftermath of a natural disaster rather than a simple confrontation between pirates. Whatever had transpired here operated on scales that challenged conventional understanding of individual combat capability.
"Help me up," Doflamingo commanded coldly, finally acknowledging his subordinates' presence.
Señor Pink stepped forward, his pacifier clicking against his teeth as he carefully assisted his captain to a sitting position. The normally stoic officer's face showed visible strain, Doflamingo's injuries were far more severe than his casual demeanor suggested.
"We found their pirate ship anchored near the shore," Diamante reported with military precision, "but it was completely abandoned when we boarded. No crew, no supplies, no indication of where they might have gone."
Before anyone could respond, two more figures descended from the sky aboard Buffalo's mechanical form. Baby 5's weapon configurations gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as they touched down, her expression showing the frustration of a failed mission.
"He was too fast," Buffalo announced with his characteristic simple-minded honesty, his propeller hair still spinning from their pursuit attempt. "Disappeared in the blink of an eye, we never had a chance of catching up."
"It's over," Doflamingo stated with finality that brooked no argument. "Don't worry about it."
The assembled family members exchanged confused glances, their understanding of their captain's psychology creating cognitive dissonance with his current behavior. This was the same man who had spent weeks orchestrating an elaborate manhunt throughout the North Blue, mobilizing every resource at his disposal to eliminate these upstart rookies who had dared challenge his authority.
"Young master," Trebol ventured carefully, "do you mean... we're letting them go?"
The question hung in the salt air like an accusation. Everyone present understood Doflamingo's character intimately, his pride, his ruthlessness, his absolute intolerance for challenges to his power. The Hell Pirates had destroyed his business operations, humiliated his organization, and escaped his grasp repeatedly. Under normal circumstances, such affronts would have triggered a vendetta that would consume every resource necessary for their elimination.
Yet here he sat, apparently content to abandon pursuit of the very enemies who had just left him broken and bleeding on a deserted island.
"I discussed a business proposition with him," Doflamingo replied with deliberate vagueness. "A very interesting business proposition."
His tone carried undertones that warned against further inquiry, though the cryptic explanation only deepened his subordinates' confusion. What kind of business could the Hell Pirates possibly offer that would override the young master's legendary vindictiveness?
The implication that their notorious captain had engaged in negotiations rather than simply attempting to kill his enemies challenged every assumption about how such confrontations should unfold. More troubling was the obvious evidence that this "discussion" had left Doflamingo in his current condition, hardly the outcome of successful diplomacy.
Since their captain had spoken, however, the family members could only accept his decision regardless of their personal confusion. Years of absolute loyalty had taught them that questioning Joker's strategic thinking was both futile and dangerous.
Soon, the assembled group surrounded Doflamingo and began the careful process of evacuating him from the devastated battlefield. The Hell Pirates' abandoned vessel was located and systematically destroyed, eliminating the last tangible evidence of their presence in the area.
The next morning, newspapers across the North Blue carried headlines that would reshape the region's political landscape.
'Clash of Titans: Doflamingo Confronts Hell Pirates on Deserted Island!'
'Seven Warlords Battle Ends in Stalemate, Hell Pirates Escape Again!'
'North Blue Shaken as Heavenly Demon Fails to Capture Notorious Rookies!'
The official reports painted a picture of tactical stalemate, the Donquixote Family had engaged the Hell Pirates in fierce combat, destroying their vessel and inflicting casualties, but the enemy's leadership had managed to escape Doflamingo's pursuit through unknown means. Such outcomes weren't entirely unprecedented when dealing with the more elusive criminal organizations that specialized in hit-and-run tactics.
But beneath the surface narrative, whispered rumors began circulating through the networks of witnesses and informants who had observed the confrontation from a distance. Multiple fleet elements involved in the encirclement operation had seen Doflamingo's approach to the island, followed by sounds of battle that had carried for miles across the open ocean.
What they had witnessed upon the Heavenly Demon's extraction painted a very different picture than the official reports suggested.
Several observers had noted his obvious injuries, the way he'd required assistance simply to remain upright, and most tellingly, the complete absence of any Hell Pirates corpses among the devastation. If Doflamingo had achieved the decisive victory that the newspapers claimed, where were the bodies? Where was the proof of his enemies' destruction?
The witnesses dared not spread such observations openly, recognizing that challenging the Donquixote Family's version of events would invite deadly retaliation. But whispered conversations in taverns and private communications between trusted allies slowly disseminated the uncomfortable truth, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea had been systematically outfought by a rookie pirate crew.
More disturbing was what followed the confrontation. Despite the Donquixote Family's massive investment in hunting down the Hell Pirates, their pursuit efforts ceased entirely after the island battle. The organization that had mobilized unprecedented resources to track these criminals across hundreds of miles of ocean suddenly showed no interest in continuing the hunt.
Such behavior was completely inconsistent with Doflamingo's established patterns. Even casual observers who had followed North Blue politics understood that the Heavenly Demon never forgave insults to his authority, never accepted defeats gracefully, and never abandoned grudges until his enemies had been thoroughly destroyed.
Yet here was definitive proof that the Hell Pirates continued operating freely in North Blue waters, while the Donquixote Family pursued entirely different objectives as if their previous conflict had never occurred.
The cognitive dissonance created by these contradictions spawned countless theories and speculation, though none of the proposed explanations adequately addressed the fundamental questions surrounding this unprecedented outcome.
Several days later, aboard the distinctive vessel of the Hawkins Pirates, another of the North Blue's rising stars contemplated the shifting power dynamics that were reshaping their familiar territory.
Captain Basil Hawkins sat in his characteristic meditation pose, studying the newspaper spread before him with the analytical intensity that marked his approach to all significant intelligence. The headlines screamed about events that would have seemed impossible mere months ago, rookies challenging established powers and surviving to tell about it.
The Hell Pirates had dominated North Blue coverage with remarkable consistency, their exploits growing progressively more dramatic as they systematically eliminated rival organizations and territorial powers. What had begun as localized criminal activity had evolved into something approaching a regional revolution, with consequences that rippled through every aspect of the area's political and economic systems.
According to various reports, their captain's bounty had climbed toward the one hundred million berry threshold, an astronomical sum for someone who had never set foot in the Grand Line. For context, even some veteran New World pirates commanded lower official rewards from the World Government.
The newspaper's layout reflected the Hell Pirates' growing significance. While local North Blue publications had long featured their activities prominently, seeing them claim space in Morgans' World News Agency represented elevation to global recognition. The King of News rarely wasted ink on regional criminals unless their activities possessed implications for the wider world.
Such coverage was both honor and curse, it attracted exactly the kind of international attention that most pirates sought to avoid until they possessed sufficient strength to handle the consequences.
"Hell Pirates," Hawkins murmured, his voice carrying the distinctive thoughtful cadence that marked his philosophical nature.
Behind him, his crew maintained respectful silence while their captain processed intelligence that would determine their organization's future strategies. The Hawkins Pirates had established themselves as one of the North Blue's premier criminal organizations through careful calculation and strategic patience, qualities that had kept them alive while more reckless crews destroyed themselves through premature ambition.
"His bounty is almost one hundred million," observed Faust, the crew member whose steel fork and wizard robes marked him as one of Hawkins' more distinctive subordinates. "That's an incredible sum for someone who hasn't even entered the Grand Line yet."
The wanted poster's photograph remained frustratingly unclear, showing only the Hell King's back while he stood upon what appeared to be Roger's execution platform. The symbolic implications of that image had not been lost on anyone, here was someone bold enough to claim the Pirate King's legacy for his own purposes.
Their other crew members presented equally mysterious profiles. The Night Walker appeared wrapped in black bandages from head to toe, creating an intimidating silhouette that suggested either injury concealment or deliberate psychological warfare. Yurivich and Dolan both displayed similar covering, as if the entire organization had adopted concealment as their standard operating procedure.
"Intelligence suggests this represents their standard uniform rather than temporary disguise," Faust continued with analytical precision. "Though some sources question whether the current Yurivich matches previous descriptions, the size differential is quite dramatic."
Such discrepancies raised intriguing questions about the Hell Pirates' recruitment methods and organizational structure. Had they somehow enhanced their existing members, or had they recruited entirely different individuals while maintaining established identities?
"People are calling them the strongest rookie pirates in the North Blue," another crew member added with obvious implications for their own reputation.
The comparison stung more than any of them cared to admit. The Hawkins Pirates had been operating in these waters far longer than these newcomers, building their reputation through careful campaigns and strategic victories. To be overshadowed so dramatically by latecomers challenged their understanding of how maritime hierarchies should function.
Hawkins remained unmoved by his subordinates' obvious frustration, focusing instead on the divination cards that appeared in his hands with practiced ease. His Devil Fruit abilities allowed him to manipulate probability itself, though the process required careful interpretation of symbolic guidance rather than direct control over outcomes.
Thin grass branches sprouted from the deck planks beneath his feet, growing with supernatural speed until they formed an intricate lattice of natural supports. The sight was both beautiful and unsettling, nature responding to human will in ways that defied conventional understanding.
"The throne beneath the dark night bears cracks," Hawkins intoned with the distant voice of someone accessing supernatural knowledge. "In the starry sky, the ones that draw the world's attention are always the nearest and brightest."
His crew had long grown accustomed to such cryptic pronouncements, recognizing them as glimpses into the complex web of fate that governed their reality. Hawkins' predictions possessed uncanny accuracy, though their meaning often remained unclear until events had already unfolded.
With deliberate precision, he placed divination cards atop the extended branches, each one representing different aspects of the question that consumed his thoughts. The first card depicted a crowned figure seated upon an ornate throne, clearly representing established power and authority.
"The King," Hawkins murmured, studying the image with analytical intensity. "Referring to those who currently rule these seas..."
His mind focused on the Hawkins Pirates themselves, their position within the North Blue's hierarchy, their accumulated reputation, and their prospects for continued advancement. The card's symbolism suggested stability and established authority, though the cracks he'd mentioned implied vulnerability to disruption.
The second card showed an angel with his head bowed, nailed to a cross while tears of blood streamed down his divine features. The imagery was unmistakably ominous, representing sacrifice, suffering, and unavoidable destiny.
But this card had been drawn while his thoughts centered on an entirely different subject.
The Hell Pirates.
The symbolic meaning crystallized in his enhanced perception with disturbing clarity. Blood indicated violence and conflict, while the cross represented inescapable fate. The angel's suffering suggested that someone divine, or at least someone who considered themselves above mortal concerns, would face consequences they couldn't avoid.
"Destined to meet," Hawkins spoke with the certainty of someone who had glimpsed the threads of fate themselves. "There is no escape."
The probability calculations flowing through his consciousness confirmed what the cards had revealed. One hundred percent chance of confrontation. The mathematical certainty was as absolute as any natural law, the Hawkins Pirates and Hell Pirates would clash, regardless of any efforts to avoid such an encounter.
His crew members exchanged meaningful glances, recognizing the significance of their captain's pronouncement. When Hawkins spoke of destiny with such conviction, events had a way of unfolding exactly as he predicted.
Slowly, methodically, he collected the cards and began shuffling for additional divination. The first reading had confirmed that conflict was inevitable, but numerous questions remained about timing, circumstances, and ultimate outcomes.
The North Blue's power structure was shifting with unprecedented speed, and the Hawkins Pirates would need every advantage they could gather if they hoped to survive the coming storm.
As his hands moved through the familiar motions of card preparation, Hawkins' analytical mind contemplated the broader implications of what his divination had revealed. The Hell Pirates weren't just another ambitious crew seeking to establish territory, they represented a force of disruption that would reshape everything about their familiar world.
Whether that change would elevate the survivors to greater heights or consume them entirely remained to be determined. But one thing was certain, the age of predictable North Blue politics was rapidly coming to an end.
The strongest rookie pirates in these waters were about to discover whether their reputation could withstand the test of genuine opposition from established powers who had ruled these seas long before they had ever dreamed of piracy.
Fate had spoken, and the cards never lied.