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The name Nachthrone rang like a death knell in the sudden silence that followed the explosions of the counterattack.
Acrid smoke swirled around the black ship, giving it the air of a vengeful specter rising from the abyss.
On the Donquixote flagship, the laughter had frozen. Diamante clutched his firecracker cloak, Trebol giggled nervously, and Lao G adjusted his grotesque stance.
Only Doflamingo kept his smile, though his eyes, behind those pink-tinted glasses, gleamed with a new intensity—a mix of morbid curiosity and irritation.
Mihawk, ever impassive, tilted his head slightly. The sun was sinking on the horizon, staining the sea with blood and gold.
"Doflamingo." His tone was neutral, almost conversational, but carried an authority that commanded attention. "The sun will set soon." His golden eyes locked onto the Dark Lord of Dressrosa. "Have you made your decision?"
Korran, glued to a monitor in the bowels of the Nachthrone, held his breath. Kiku, at the helm, her fingers hovering over the controls, tilted her head imperceptibly.
Doflamingo let out a dry chuckle, a "Fufufu…" stripped of its usual jubilation. His smile widened. "Decision?" His voice boomed with renewed arrogance. "It was made the moment you dared poke your nose into my waters with that pretentious heap of scrap!" He spread his arms wide, encompassing the deadly circle of his ships, even the damaged ones. "You won't see the sun rise tomorrow!"
Mihawk didn't flinch. His gaze swept the horizon slowly, taking in every enemy ship, every silhouette of a Donquixote officer. "I see," he murmured, a chillingly simple observation. Then his eyes returned to Doflamingo. "But allow me one question, King of the Underworld Pirates…" He paused deliberately, letting the tension ratchet up under the stunned gazes. "Have you forgotten?"
Doflamingo raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering slightly.
"Forgotten what, exactly, Hawk-Eyes?" Diamante snapped, unable to stay silent any longer, brandishing his flail-sword.
Mihawk ignored him completely, his focus locked on Doflamingo. "Forgotten that the vast majority of your elite forces…" His gesture dismissively encompassed Diamante, Trebol, Gladius, Lao G, and the captains of the other visible ships, "…are Devil Fruit users." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, yet everyone heard it. "And the sea, gentlemen… the sea is not such a friendly battlefield for you. A grain of sand in the well-oiled gears of your 'reasonable naval strategy,' don't you think?"
A heavier silence fell. The truth of his observation hit hard. Encircling an enemy at sea was a classic tactic, but it assumed total naval superiority. If Doflamingo's best fighters—those capable of matching Mihawk or overwhelming his small crew—were vulnerable to a mere fall into the water, the equation changed. The sea was not their ally.
Doflamingo burst into laughter, a loud, scornful sound that dispelled the growing unease among his men. "FUFUFUFUFU! Really, Mihawk? Still clinging to that?" He shook his head with mock pity. "That old saying is obsolete! Completely outdated!" His smile turned predatory. "When you have good Fruits… very good Fruits… the sea's just a slightly more… restrictive backdrop."
Mihawk held his gaze for a long moment. Then, an almost imperceptible nod. "Very well."
The word had barely left his lips when the unthinkable happened.
Without a change in expression, without the slightest warning, Mihawk raised the arm still holding Perona by the collar of her dress. The young ghost, who had been whimpering faintly after her earlier screams, had just enough time to open eyes filled with absolute terror.
"W-WHAT?! M-MIHAWK?! WHAT ARE YOU—GYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
With a fluid motion and terrifying strength, Mihawk hurled Perona forward like a living cannonball. She sailed through the thirty meters of air separating the Nachthrone from the nearest Donquixote warship, spinning in a piercing scream that tore through the sky.
"YOU HEARTLESS BRUTE! SADIST! MONSTER! I CURSE YOU! I WISH YOU A DEPRESSION SO DEEP YOU'LL WANT TO SEW YOUR EYELIDS SHUT! MAY YOUR BEARD HAIRS GROW INWARD! YOU—AAAAAAAH!!!"
Her chaotic flight ended in a spectacular crash on the enemy ship's deck, right in the midst of a group of stunned pirates. She bounced, rolling several times before coming to a stop in a cloud of dust and debris, her gothic dress in tatters, her pink bow tie askew. She lifted her head, eyes glassy, and violently vomited on the deck before collapsing, groggy but clearly alive—and seething with rage.
Simultaneously with this dramatic toss, Mihawk had rested Yoru on his left shoulder with unsettling nonchalance. The great black sword lay there, serene.
He turned his head slightly toward the flagship, where Doflamingo, for the first time, seemed faintly rattled by the absurdity and brutality of the act.
"We don't have all night, Doflamingo," Mihawk said, his voice returning to its icy calm. He glanced at the sun, now touching the horizon, setting the west ablaze. "I'd like time to start redecorating Dressrosa… by tomorrow morning."
The audacity of the statement—claiming he'd take Dressrosa before even defeating its master—lit the fuse. Literally.
"CANNONEERS!" Diamante roared, red with fury. "FIRE AT WILL! REDUCE THAT SHIP TO KINDLING!"
"CRUSH THEM!" Trebol bellowed, spitting globs of mucus in excitement.
The roar of cannons resumed, wilder, more desperate. BOOM! KRAAAA-BOOM! Cannonballs whistled through the twilight air, tracing deadly arcs toward the Nachthrone.
Kiku, in her armored helm, became a demon of focus. Her hands flew across the controls, her eyes tracking trajectories with inhuman precision. The black ship, massive yet supernaturally agile, began a macabre waltz through the sprays of water and explosions. It pitched, veered sharply, accelerated, or slowed with uncanny fluidity, dodging direct hits by the slimmest margins, its armor shrugging off shrapnel. The Nachthrone's side cannons roared again, FWOOOOSH-KRAKBOOM!, unleashing their luminescent wrath and dealing fresh damage to the reckless flanks of enemy ships.
But the Donquixote Family's true response didn't come from cannons.
"HE'S MINE!" Diamante roared, unable to contain his rage any longer. Instead of ordering a standard boarding, he leaped prodigiously from the flagship's deck, straight into the void above the churning sea. Rather than falling, his massive, sparkling firecracker cloak unfurled like a mad sail, then stiffened oddly. Thanks to his Hira Hira no Mi (Flag-Flag Fruit), he could make any inanimate object he touched "flutter" like a flag in the wind. He turned his cloak into a grotesque but effective rigid wing, a makeshift paraglider, letting him glide dangerously low over the waves, heading straight for the Nachthrone's bridge where Mihawk stood.
"Don't be so hasty, Diamante!" Trebol giggled, his body dripping with green mucus. His Beto Beto no Mi (Sticky-Sticky Fruit) wasn't built for flight but for adhesion and manipulating sticky substances. He pointed his pudgy hands at the Nachthrone's hull. SPLOUCH! SPLATCH! Globs of thick mucus shot out, splattering and spreading across the black metal, well above the waterline. Without hesitation, Trebol jumped overboard and landed in it. The mucus acted like a giant suction cup, keeping him from sliding. He began climbing the vertical hull like an enormous slug, using his powers to create more sticky holds, giggling, "We'll stick this ship, stick stick stick! Mihawk stuck stuck! Fufufufu!"
"Optimal interception trajectory calculated," Gladius murmured, adjusting his round goggles. His Pamu Pamu no Mi (Boom-Boom Fruit) let him turn any part of his body into an explosive substance. He took a deep breath, channeling his power into his legs.
PAM! A controlled but powerful explosion erupted under his feet, launching him like a rocket over the water in a short, rapid arc. He landed hard on the Nachthrone's rear deck, narrowly avoiding a salvo from its own side cannons, the impact rattling the metal beneath him. "Objective: neutralize propulsion system. Analysis in progress."
"Youth… IS ETERNAL!" Lao G thundered, striking an exaggerated karate pose on the flagship's deck. Unlike the others, he had no Devil Fruit. But his physical strength and agility were monstrous. He grabbed a massive grappling hook and, with a roar, spun it before launching it. The hook bit deep into the Nachthron's railing. Lao G seized the thick rope and, with superhuman strength, began pulling himself across the fifty meters of water separating the ships, his muscles bulging like cables, ignoring the splashes of cannonballs falling around him.
And finally, Doflamingo. He didn't need risky leaps or mucus. A cruel smile back on his lips, he simply raised his hands.
Zzzzip! Invisible threads, produced in abundance by his Ito Ito no Mi (String-String Fruit), shot from his fingers. They didn't aim for the Nachthrone but wove into the low twilight clouds. In a fraction of a second, he crafted a complex, resilient web in the air, high above the battlefield. Then, with a fluid motion, he grabbed several threads and pulled. His body shot upward, like an inverted puppet, landing with demonic elegance on his makeshift aerial platform.
From there, overlooking the chaotic scene, he gazed at Mihawk with a mix of defiance and sadistic anticipation. "Fufufufu… Let's see if your Nachthrone is as tough as it looks, Mihawk. Sunset… is also when the vultures gather."
Perona, coming to on the enemy deck, saw the silhouettes of the Donquixote officers descending on the Nachthrone and its lone captain. Fear turned to hysterical fury. She staggered to her feet, shaking the dust from her tattered dress. "YOU… YOU DARE ATTACK MY SHIP?! AND TOSS ME LIKE A DIRTY RAG?!" Her eyes narrowed to furious slits. She raised her hands, and dozens of her small, grayish, dejected-looking negative ghosts materialized around her. "YOU'LL ALL LEARN THE TRUE MEANING OF… DESPAIR! HOLLOW…!"
'It's not us who threw you!' the men on the ship thought in unison.