The punch that White Flame threw carried the concentrated might of countless stolen wills.
He had devoured many of Doflamingo's top officers—each of them seasoned warriors, each possessing Armament Haki strong enough to rival Marine Vice Admirals.
Combined with the power he'd taken from other New World elites, his own Haki had become something monstrous.
The air shattered as his blackened fist rocketed forward.
"So fast!"
For the briefest instant, even Doflamingo's pupils contracted.
White Flame's fist filled his vision—black, burning, unstoppable.
But then his grin returned.
"Attack me? Keep dreaming."
He raised his head, laughter curling from his throat—
and a crushing, invisible wave of will exploded outward.
BOOM.
White Flame froze mid-strike, his vision flashing white as his mind reeled.
An aura thick as lightning filled the air, shaking the very ground.
Conqueror's Haki.
Doflamingo was a man born to rule.
That overwhelming pressure, that instinct to dominate—this was his proof.
It was this very presence that had made Torebol, Pica, Vergo, and Diamante kneel before a boy and call him "King."
It was the essence that separated kings from common men.
Shhk!
In that single instant of daze, Doflamingo's Ever White struck.
A line of pure white pierced straight through White Flame's chest, impaling his heart.
"Feel it?" Doflamingo laughed.
"This is why I stand above all others. Why I rule!"
"This is the power only a king possesses—Conqueror's Haki!"
"You filthy upstart, you thought you could challenge me?"
"Your monsters are gone. Let's see you cheat death this time!"
The threads around them thickened, wrapping around White Flame's body, binding him like a cocoon.
CRACK—SHRRK—
They tightened, slicing through flesh and bone until blood poured from every seam.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" Doflamingo's laughter echoed through the ruined city.
"Die! Die! DIE!"
He wouldn't stop—not until there was nothing left to resurrect.
He skewered the body again and again, each strike bursting more crimson across the stones.
"Is… is he dead?"
Viola's lips trembled.
From her vantage on the shattered balcony, she watched the black-coated figure collapse into a mutilated heap, unrecognizable.
All that remained was blood and ruin.
Her heart sank.
She was of the royal line of Dressrosa—the princess who had once wielded the Glare-Glare Fruit, forced into servitude to keep her father alive.
She had hoped, foolishly, that this "man-eating monster" might change everything—
that he might bring light back to her stolen kingdom.
But as she stared at the corpse, that fragile spark of hope guttered out.
Dressrosa's dawn had died again.
Under Doflamingo's heel, it would remain in darkness… until the nation itself turned to ash.
"Enren!"
Kyros's voice broke, echoing from below.
He wanted to rush forward, to help, to do something—but he couldn't.
He could barely hold his ground against Senor Pink.
To challenge Doflamingo now was nothing short of suicide.
"He's lost," Senor said quietly, removing his pacifier for once.
"Died like a man, though. I'll give him that much."
Doflamingo's laughter cut through the smoke.
"Challenge my throne?"
"Defy my rule?"
"Defy me?!"
"That's your punishment!"
He withdrew his threads, releasing the Awakening.
The white fibers that filled the city dissolved, the buildings regaining their solid form.
Sweat ran down his face, glistening in the sunlight.
Even for him, maintaining an awakened state drained strength at a terrifying rate.
He glanced down at the broken corpse, exhaling slowly.
Finally… it was over.
Even he could admit it—without Awakening, he might not have been able to kill this monster.
"Remember this in hell," he hissed, voice low and sharp.
"It was I—Donquixote Doflamingo—who sent you there."
"Etch that name into your soul… and never forget why you should never cross me."
He sneered and kicked the mangled body aside.
"Viola. Throw his remains to the mountains. Let the beasts finish what I started."
He turned to leave—
but none of them noticed the faint shimmer rising from the corpse.
Tiny black motes—like dust—floated into the air, gathering in a swirling mass.
Two breaths later, the impossible happened.
"Doflamingo…"
A familiar, emotionless voice spoke behind him.
"I'll admit it—you actually managed to make me feel pain."
The Warlord froze mid-step.
His muscles locked, his grin vanished.
Slowly, he turned.
There stood White Flame—
body whole, every wound gone, the blood erased as if it had never been.
Only his torn clothes remained to hint at the carnage.
He stood upright, calm, eyes cold as ever.
"You… you…" Doflamingo stammered.
His fingers trembled.
"What the hell are you?!"
For the first time, the Heavenly Yaksha's voice shook.
He was sure—absolutely sure—he'd killed the man.
He'd crushed his organs, shredded his body, destroyed every part that could possibly heal.
No one could survive that. No one.
And yet—here he was. Whole. Untouched. Smiling.
It was like a nightmare made flesh.
A nightmare Doflamingo couldn't wake from.
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