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Punk Hazard – Main Laboratory Vergo held the latest issue of the World Economic Journal. The newspaper crumpled violently under Vergo's gl
Punk Hazard – Main Laboratory
Vergo held the latest issue of the World Economic Journal.
The newspaper crumpled violently under Vergo's gloved fingers. The paper held for a second before tearing in two with a sharp rip, like a muffled gunshot. The fragments fell to the floor, Mihawk's impassive image on his rock facing the crushing defeat of Doflamingo.
"Impossible…" Caesar Clown muttered, stepping back, his gas bubble wobbling wildly. His face twisted with shock and sudden fear. "Dracule Mihawk? Alone?"
Vergo didn't answer immediately. His usually vacant eyes burned with a cold, dangerous glint. He stared at the shredded journal at his feet, the torn image of his master. Then, slowly, methodically, he adjusted his gloves. His knuckles cracked.
"Failure…" His voice was a low rasp, laced with restrained venom. "…is one thing. Public humiliation…" He finally looked up, meeting Caesar's terrified gaze. "…is another." He crushed a piece of the journal depicting Mihawk under his heel. "The Young Master failed. A misjudgment. A weakness." His voice hardened. "I will not fail."
He turned his back on Caesar, walking toward the large window overlooking the island's desolate landscape. "The Empire didn't die with him. The connections are still there." He placed a hand on the cold glass. "We will rebuild. Brick by brick. Connection by connection." He spun abruptly, his piercing gaze cutting through Caesar. "And… this Hawk who thinks he's conquered a kingdom… he'll learn the price of insolence."
At Sea – Marine Flagship
The Dauntless sliced through the deep blue waves, its white prow carving a trail of foam toward Dressrosa. On the upper deck, Admiral Fujitora "Issho" stood motionless, his face turned toward the horizon his blind eyes couldn't see. The sea breeze played with his hair and admiral's coat.
"Admiral Fujitora," a captain announced, approaching respectfully. "We're holding course for Dressrosa. Estimated arrival: four hours."
Fujitora tilted his head slightly. "Four hours…" he murmured, a hint of weariness in his deep voice. "Time is a luxury this world rarely grants us." He tightened his grip on his sheathed sword. "I didn't expect to face you again so soon… or under such circumstances. Dracule Mihawk…"
Suddenly, a soldier ran up, breathless, his face pale under his helmet. "Admiral! Urgent transmission from HQ!" He held out a trembling den-den mushi. "Kaido! The Emperor! He's been spotted heading straight for Dressrosa!"
Silence fell over the deck. Fujitora didn't move, but a palpable tension radiated from his imposing figure. His usually calm brow furrowed slightly. "Kaido… The timing is… disastrous. How long?"
"Less than an hour, Admiral! Maybe even less!" the soldier stammered.
Fujitora turned his sightless face toward Dressrosa's still-invisible horizon. The sea breeze suddenly felt colder. "Four hours… against one."
Marine HQ, Marineford – Fleet Admiral's Office
Sakazuki's fist, wreathed in steaming magma, slammed onto the solid oak desk with a sinister crack. The wood blackened and melted instantly under the impact, leaving a smoking crater.
"KAIDO?! NOW?!" His voice thundered, rattling the windows. Pure, incandescent rage poured from him. "Why the hell were we only informed WHEN HE WAS ALREADY IN SIGHT OF DRESSROSA?! Where was our surveillance network? Where was our intelligence?!" He glared at the trembling staff officer before him.
"F-Fleet Admiral," the officer stammered, sweating profusely. "His movements were… unpredictable. He left Wano without warning, crushing everything in his path. Our outposts… they could only transmit at the last moment. He… he'll reach Dressrosa's shores in an hour. An hour at most."
"An hour…" Sakazuki growled, pulling his smoking fist from the crater he'd made. His jaw was clenched tight enough to shatter. "An hour before an Emperor lands on a kingdom already in chaos, ruled by an uncontrollable former Warlord who just took down another of their kind." He leaned forward, his bloodshot eyes boring into the officer. "What did Doflamingo have in his grasp to make Kaido move this fast?" The question hung unanswered, adding a dark layer of urgency to the looming disaster. "Warn Fujitora. Tell him to prepare for the worst. And mobilize everything we have within a 500-mile radius. If Kaido and Dracule Mihawk clash… at least one of them needs to fall."
Dressrosa – Royal Palace
The golden, peaceful light of the setting sun flooded Dressrosa's throne room.
Mansherry's power had worked miracles, almost obscene in its speed. The main structures—the palace, central plaza, arenas—stood as if new, gleaming with pink marble and glass. In the streets, a palpable buzz mixed disbelief with fragile hope. Teams of citizens, revitalized by the Tontatta princess's healing, were already rebuilding lesser structures, their tools scraping against fresh stone. Birdsong had replaced the rumble of battle.
On the imposing throne, Dracule Mihawk sat. His posture was erect, motionless, the sword Yoru propped vertically against the right armrest, its black hilt within reach. His impassive gaze fixed on the open grand door of the hall.
Perona floated to his right, slightly behind, her pink umbrella slung carelessly over her shoulder.
A herald announced in a clear voice: "Korran and Kiku request an audience, Your Lordship!"
Mihawk gave a slight nod. The two crew members entered.
Korran let out a whistle of admiration, glancing around at the carved columns, sparkling stained glass, and high painted ceilings. "Some palace, Captain! Damn, this place is fancy!"
"We report that the island is secured," Kiku stated. "No organized resistance. The population… cooperates, shocked but active. You are now the undisputed master of Dressrosa."
Perona let out a light, mocking laugh, a soft "Hihihi." "Master? Of course he's the master! We did all the work!" She pointed an accusing finger at Korran. "You, on the other hand, you big useless oaf! Where were you while Mihawk was slicing up the string puppet and his clown crew? Napping? You've done absolutely NOTHING to deserve strutting around this palace!"
Korran's face flushed red, his massive frame seeming to swell with fury. "WHAT?! Say that again, you little ghostly pest!" He took a step forward, fists clenched.
"Pfft!" Perona scoffed, floating higher to loom over him. "Really, you deserve a medal… for participation! Useless!"
"You little…!" Korran roared, ready to lunge.
"Silence."
The word, spoken in a low voice that cut through the air like a blade, came from the throne.
Mihawk hadn't shouted. He hadn't even raised his voice. But the authority in that single word was so absolute that Korran froze mid-step, his momentum shattered, while Perona pursed her lips, crossing her arms with a sulky huff.
Mihawk slowly turned his gaze toward them. "Your squabble is childish. And ill-timed." His eyes lingered briefly on Korran, then Perona. "This isn't over."
Korran frowned, confused. Kiku, still, seemed to perk up slightly. Perona raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself.
Before anyone could ask, a sudden, colossal shadow swallowed the sunset light flooding the hall through the grand windows. A deep, swift darkness, like a snuffed candle, fell over the palace and the city below.
The gentle birdsong stopped abruptly, replaced by a deathly silence, then a low, deep rumble that seemed to rise from the sky's very core. It wasn't thunder.
Mihawk stood. With a fluid motion, his hand closed around Yoru's black hilt. His eyes, sharp as the hawk he embodied, lifted to the grand window, beyond which the sky, blue and gold moments ago, was now inky black. A tangible, thick darkness.
Perona let out a stifled yelp, floating instinctively closer to Mihawk.
In the blackened sky, a shape began to form. A monstrous, titanic silhouette that devoured the horizon. Reptilian contours, sinuous and powerful. Scales hinted at by the texture of the shadow itself. And dominating this terrifying form, two burning points—yellow, slit-pupiled eyes like a serpent's.
The Beast of a Hundred Beasts had arrived. Kaido, the Emperor, was here.
"WORORORORORO!"
A faint smile brushed Mihawk's lips.
"Finally," he murmured, so softly only Perona, trembling at his side, could hear. "a drunk dragon pays us a visit"