"It's about time."
Ragnar glanced at the pocket watch in his hand, then slowly turned his gaze to Don Quixote Doflamingo.
"It's your turn, Joker."
The moment he finished speaking—
Three cold, murderous auras instantly locked onto the Shichibukai.
A mace surrounded by the black lightning of Haoshoku Haki.
A samurai sword wreathed in flames.
And two shottel knives coated with the black sheen of Busoshoku Haki.
All aimed at Doflamingo's neck, face, and heart.
Whether it was Doflamingo himself, or his cadres outside the door—nervously watching, powerless to act—none of them doubted for a moment: if his next answer wasn't what Ragnar wanted, the number of Warlords in the world would absolutely decrease.
Click.
The second hand of the pocket watch ticked forward.
The air grew heavier.
The pressure in the room became suffocating.
As the lethal aura from Yamato, King, and Jack continued to spread through the hall, a defiant, mocking laugh rang out.
"Fufufufufufu!"
"I didn't expect True Lord to value a broken-winged Celestial Dragon like me—one we've never even met before."
"But in this era of pirates, it's not just the kings who choose their subjects—subjects choose their kings too."
Doflamingo stood up abruptly, enduring the pain from his leg, still pierced by King's blade.
Seeing this, King's eyes flashed with coldness. He moved to impale Doflamingo's other leg, but—
Ragnar, seated high in the center, raised a hand.
King halted, then withdrew his blade.
Puff.
The blade slid out of flesh. Blood spurted from the wound.
Yet Doflamingo didn't even flinch. He merely swayed slightly, then straightened up in front of Ragnar.
The aura he exuded—the majesty of the Heavenly Yaksha—was as unshakable as ever.
Even with death just one thought away, his pride as a king remained untarnished.
"The one who defines good and evil... is the winner."
"The one who decides what is justice... is the winner."
"The only one who can conquer me... is also the winner."
"True Lord—if you want me to submit..."
"Then conquer me by force!"
Doflamingo met Ragnar's gaze squarely. That same defiance—the arrogance of a Celestial Dragon, the tyranny of a Warlord, the cold pride of a black market emperor—burned brightly in his eyes.
"You want to challenge me?"
Ragnar's voice was cold, and his eyes were like those of a divine king gazing down upon all creation.
"Why not?"
"Ever since the civil war among the Five Emperors, this sea has echoed with a new name."
"More and more believe that the title of 'Strongest Man in the World' no longer belongs to Whitebeard..."
"...but to you."
"It would be my honor to be the first to test that claim—and measure the gap between us."
With that, Doflamingo bowed slightly and extended his hand forward.
"Please."
Suddenly—
Whizz—!!
A sharp whistle tore through the air.
A silk thread, coated in armament haki and fired from Doflamingo's fingertip, shot out like a bullet—aimed directly at Ragnar's forehead.
Bang!
Ragnar didn't even flinch.
He remained seated, regal and still.
Two fingers rose slowly—and effortlessly caught the silk thread mid-air.
Doflamingo's face darkened slightly.
Just as he steadied himself, preparing his next move—
"Wait."
Ragnar spoke, halting him.
Under Doflamingo's confused, tense gaze, the throne behind Ragnar transformed.
From behind him, a majestic phoenix wreathed in blue flames emerged—rising like a divine omen.
Immediately, the resurrected blue flames fell onto the wound on his leg—the very spot that had just been pierced by King's blade.
A sizzling hiss echoed through the room as the flames burned steadily. Remarkably, the wound began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye. Yet Don Quixote Doflamingo's expression continued to shift unpredictably.
"True Lord, you truly are generous," he remarked, slowly raising his right thumb.
As a king who would resort to any means to achieve his goals, Doflamingo did not feel insulted or humiliated by the fact that Ragnar had healed his injury.
"The Seven Warlords aren't worth my effort," Ragnar said indifferently.
He reverted to his human form, resting his chin on one hand, deep in contemplation.
"How about this, Joker," he said after a pause.
"As long as you can force me to rise from this chair, everything that happened today will be treated as if it never occurred."
"I will personally escort you to your ship and see you off from Onigashima—as your host."
Doflamingo's expression turned uncertain.
"Master… are you joking?" he asked, struggling to process the offer.
His face flickered between shock, suspicion, and exhilaration.
To be escorted by the new Emperor himself?
If he could actually pull that off, it would elevate his name and reputation above all other Shichibukai.
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