A supreme-grade greatsword.
Even for those who weren't swordsmen, few among the strong could resist its allure.
After all, it wasn't just a symbol of status—but a real leap in combat power.
And only now, after King mentioned it, did everyone suddenly realize—
They had never seen Don Quixote Doflamingo wield this sword.
In fact, this supreme sword, had never even appeared in public.
"I couldn't afford it before," Doflamingo said, his expression slightly dark. But after glancing at Ragnar, he chose to speak honestly. "And now... I don't dare to use it."
"Couldn't afford it?" King frowned. He had no intention of letting Doflamingo off easily.
Not daring to use it, he could understand. After all, his own True Lord wielded a three-pointed, double-edged spear.
If Doflamingo dared to take out a similar-style supreme sword right now—especially one on the same level—wouldn't that be a quick way to die?
"All famous swords have a will of their own," Doflamingo said coldly. "If you can't tame it, it'll turn on you."
"And as a supreme-grade sword standing atop all others, This weapon is no exception."
He looked down at the weapon inside the box, the sunglasses hiding most of his face—except for the faint glint of fear and resentment in his eyes.
"You can't control it?" Yamato blinked in surprise.
She had witnessed Doflamingo's strength firsthand. Even if he bowed his head before her brother, elsewhere in the Grand Line, Joker was still a true first-rate pirate.
"Let alone a supreme sword..." Ragnar suddenly spoke. "There are even some lower-grade swords with extreme temperaments... he can't control those either."
A name appeared in everyone's mind—Roronoa Zoro.
It took that man becoming powerful enough to cut down King the Wildfire before he could fully tame Enma, which was merely a great-grade sword.
And Doflamingo? He wasn't even a swordsman to begin with. To wield a supreme blade like Shenfeng?
That was just wishful thinking.
"Does it really have a personality?" Yamato asked, more curious than ever as she stared at the blade.
"If the first-generation Kitetsu is a demon sword," Doflamingo said slowly, "then this one... this is a king's sword."
"Because it was forged to be held by kings."
"But that doesn't mean every king can command it."
As if to prove his point, Doflamingo stretched out his hand and grasped the hilt of Shenfeng in front of everyone.
The moment he touched it—
A crushing pressure burst forth.
Centered on Doflamingo, a tremendous burst of Haoshoku Haki—Conqueror's Haki—exploded like a shockwave.
"Conqueror's?" Yamato narrowed her eyes.
She wasn't surprised. Doflamingo was born with a king's potential.
But then—her expression shifted.
The frozen floor beneath their feet—ice that Ragnar had created in his True God form—began to crack.
And aside from Ragnar, King, and Yamato, everyone else in the hall was crushed by the weight of that pressure.
Even bones began to groan under the strain.
"H-how... how does Joker have this level of Haki?" Jack stared in disbelief.
It wasn't on the same level as the Five Emperors' true Conquerors... but it far exceeded what anyone expected of a mere Shichibukai.
In King's opinion, if Don Quixote Doflamingo truly possessed that kind of courage, he wouldn't have lost so utterly against Ragnar earlier.
"That sword…!" King's eyes narrowed sharply as he stared at the sword in Doflamingo's hand.
Suddenly—
A mouthful of blood spurted high into the sky.
Doflamingo's entire body trembled violently, before collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Even the sunglasses he always wore—symbols of his arrogance and pride—fell off and shattered on the stone floor.
"Dover!!"
"Young Master, are you alright?!"
Trebol and the others rushed forward in a panic, surrounding their fallen king.
"Joker, you…" King's voice trailed off. His eyes widened.
The man lying on the ground was no longer the proud king of Dressrosa.
His face was pale and drawn, his once-vibrant body limp and lifeless. Most disturbingly, his eyes—always sharp and filled with madness—were now dull, like those of a corpse. As if something fundamental had been stripped from him.
"This sword… I can wield it, but I can't control it."
Doflamingo lifted his head with difficulty, voice hoarse and weak.
At this moment, no one—absolutely no one—would believe this was once the tyrant of the underground world.
"Ragnar," Yamato suddenly spoke up. As one of the few present who bore the qualifications of a King, she furrowed her brow. "What's happening to Joker?"
She could feel something… a presence, an instinct. But it was like trying to see through a sheet of thin paper—it was there, but unclear.
Ragnar calmly explained:
"Feed it with Conqueror's Haki. Let the King's spirit be its nourishment."
"Rather than a King's Weapon, it's more fitting to call it a Conqueror's Weapon."
"Once held, it will drain your Haki without consent. If you can feed it… good. If not—and it refuses to let go—it will suck you dry."
He glanced at the three-pointed, double-edged weapon resting quietly in its ornate box. The one in Doflamingo's hand—clearly a manifestation of its power—had revealed its true nature.
"In short—"
It feeds on Conqueror's Haki. It devours the King's spirit.
It was far more domineering than even the famed sword Enma, which merely drew Armament Haki on its own.
Armament Haki could be recovered.
But once Conqueror's Haki is drained, the King's spirit is gone forever.
And when a King loses that…
He is no longer a King.
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