-Broadcast-
When Franky observed the surname written on the Silver Daughter's placard, a terrible suspicion crystallized in his mind. Combined with Trafalgar Law's barely contained fury radiating from the back row, the conclusion was inescapable—the exhibit on stage shared blood with the newly appointed Shichibukai.
As both a pervert and a gentleman, Franky placed firm hands on his companion hostesses' shoulders. "You two need to leave. Now," he said urgently. "People are going to die at this show tonight, and I won't be able to protect you when it starts."
The two sisters, recent additions to the entertainment district's workforce, possessed enough street sense to recognize genuine danger when they heard it. Without questioning the cyborg's warning, they immediately began extracting themselves from the frenzied crowd. Before departing, they each planted grateful kisses on Franky's metallic cheeks.
"Mr. Franky, we'll never forget this kindness," one whispered. "Please stay safe yourself."
As he watched the hostesses hurry toward the exits, Franky realized they must have misunderstood his warning. From their perspective, he was the one planning to cause mayhem. The irony wasn't lost on him—if they survived tonight's bloodbath, their chance encounter might prove to be the luckiest moment of their lives.
Franky's mechanical eyes tracked movement in the rear seats. Trafalgar Law had risen from his chair like a specter of death, one hand raised with fingers positioned in a familiar gesture. The air around him seemed to thicken with malevolent intent as his Devil Fruit power awakened.
"Room."
The word fell from Law's lips like a judge pronouncing a death sentence. A translucent blue sphere expanded outward from his position, engulfing the entire venue in its otherworldly glow. Within this supernatural operating theater, the Surgeon of Death held absolute dominion over space itself.
One second, the patrons were still marveling at the artistic beauty of the Silver Daughter's transformed flesh. The next second, the world exploded into chaos as Law's surgical mastery carved through reality itself.
Bodies separated at impossible angles—heads floating independently of torsos, limbs spinning freely through the air, organs displaced but somehow still functioning. Yet remarkably, impossibly, no one died. No blood spilled. Law's precision was so absolute that he could dismantle human anatomy without causing a single drop of suffering.
"I can still talk!" gasped a severed head as it bobbed through the air. "How is this possible?"
"Is this some kind of Devil Fruit power?" wondered another dismembered patron, his voice strangely calm despite his bizarre predicament.
"What's happening? Donquixote Family representatives, we demand an explanation!"
The surreal scene resembled a grotesque puppet show, with dozens of floating body parts gesticulating helplessly in the air above the arena. Only two figures remained intact within the chaos—a hooded man and his polar bear companion.
As Law lowered his hood, revealing the distinctive spotted hat and cold features beneath, recognition rippled through the floating crowd like an electric shock.
"The Surgeon of Death!"
"It's Trafalgar Law—one of the Shichibukai!"
"I'm not a pirate!" pleaded a businessman whose torso was rotating slowly near the ceiling. "I'm just a merchant! I can pay any ransom you demand—please, just let me go!"
Through the cacophony of curses, desperate pleas, and terrified sobs, the infamous pirate surgeon began his steady march toward the center stage. Each footstep echoed with ominous finality as Bepo followed nervously in his wake.
The mermaid host Camie had somehow escaped Law's initial surgical strike, but facing such an overwhelming display of power had paralyzed her with terror. She collapsed to her knees, trembling uncontrollably as her mind struggled to process the impossible scene before her. Fear had wiped away all recognition—she couldn't remember where she might have encountered this particular Shichibukai before.
Tears were already gathering in Law's eyes as he approached the glass container. After their separation in burning Flevance, he and his sister were finally reunited—but under circumstances so cruel they seemed designed by a malevolent god to maximize his suffering.
When the Silver Daughter sensed someone approaching her prison, her conditioning kicked in automatically. She began striking seductive poses, attempting to please the approaching viewer with practiced movements that made Law's heart clench with anguish.
"Lami," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm your older brother. It's me—it's Law. Don't you remember?"
The moment Trafalgar Law's fists made contact with the glass container, the woman inside underwent a dramatic transformation. Her seductive posturing vanished as she collapsed to her knees and began desperately bowing, her silver forehead striking the container's floor repeatedly in supplication. The sight of his proud sister reduced to such abject servility nearly drove Law to his knees.
"What have they done to you, Lami?" Law's voice was barely audible, thick with grief and rage. "You don't need to be afraid—I'm your brother."
The sister trapped within that transparent cage had been broken down to her very core, her spirit rebuilt around absolute submission. Trafalgar Law couldn't bear to imagine the years of systematic torture required to achieve such complete psychological destruction. This dark transformation represented his greatest failure as an older brother—his inability to protect the one person who mattered most.
The memories crashed over him like a tidal wave. Ten-year-old Law hiding in their burning house, watching their parents' blood pool across familiar floorboards. He had hidden Lami in the bedroom closet, believing it would keep her safe. When he returned later to find their home consumed by flames, he had assumed his sister perished with everything else he loved. For years, he had carried the guilt of her supposed death, never thinking to search for survivors.
Now, discovering Lami had endured years of exploitation while he remained ignorant of her suffering—this knowledge cut deeper than any blade.
"Lami, you'll never be an exhibit again," Law declared, his voice strengthening with resolve. "I'll protect you from now on. Anyone who wants to hurt you will have to go through me first."
The Shichibukai drew Kikoku from its sheath, the cursed blade singing as it cut through the air. Within his Room, Law's surgical precision allowed him to slice the glass container perfectly in half, the transparent walls falling away without a single shard threatening his sister's safety.
Law shrugged off his long black coat and gently draped it around Lami's naked form. Initially, she flinched away from the approaching fabric, conditioned to expect punishment for any unexpected contact. But when the warm material settled around her shoulders—when she realized this was kindness rather than cruelty—something shifted behind her silver eyes. Tears began to well up as fragments of suppressed humanity struggled to resurface.
"Bepo," Law called softly to his navigator. "Hold my sister. Keep her safe while I handle this."
The white bear nodded solemnly and approached with characteristic gentleness. Despite her traumatized state, something about Bepo's inherently non-threatening nature and natural warmth seemed to reach through Lami's conditioning. When his massive, soft paws lifted her into a protective embrace, she didn't resist. For the first time in years, she experienced comfort without fear—the simple warmth of unconditional care.
The mermaid host's terror spiked to new heights as she watched the Hakuen-byou patient being freed from containment. "That's Amber Lead Syndrome!" Camie shrieked, her voice echoing through the arena. "If the Silver Daughter is released, everyone in Dressrosa will die! We're all going to die!"
Her panicked wailing ignited the floating crowd's hysteria. Despite their dismembered state, the patrons began hurling accusations and demands at Trafalgar Law, insisting he kill the Silver Daughter immediately to prevent another Flevance catastrophe.
The cacophony of ignorant voices pushed Law past his breaking point. Kikoku flashed through the air in a surgical strike so precise it defied comprehension—every floating patron's vocal cords were severed simultaneously, reducing the chaotic arena to blessed silence.
The cursed blade's tip came to rest against Camie's throat as Law fixed her with a stare that could freeze hell itself. The mermaid could feel the weight of his killing intent pressing down on her like a physical force. She understood with crystal clarity that her next words would determine whether she lived or died.
"Who taught you those conditioning techniques?" Law's voice was deadly quiet, each word sharp enough to cut glass. "I want a specific name."
Law's analytical mind had already identified the truth—whoever had trained Camie in psychological manipulation was undoubtedly the same monster who had spent years systematically destroying his sister's mind. That person had just earned a place at the very top of his kill list, right alongside Doflamingo.
"I... I can't tell you," Camie stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "If I tell you, he'll kill me. He has leverage—people I care about."
The mermaid's refusal sealed her fate. Law had no patience for self-preservation when his sister's tormentor remained free. Kikoku began its descent toward Camie's head, ready to separate it from her shoulders with surgical precision.
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