"How did this guy manage to recognize me?"
Mr. 2—Bon Clay—couldn't understand how the person in front of him had seen through his identity.
His Clone-Clone Fruit transformations in both appearance and voice were flawless, and he had never failed before.
But clearly, that no longer mattered.
Because even after being exposed—
his kick came without the slightest hesitation.
"The way of the okama is a path walked straight ahead despite knowing how difficult it is—
Okama Kenpō: Brilliant Swan Dance!"
The leg clad in ballet shoes tore through the air, carrying a sharp whistling sound as it kicked straight toward Dragon's head!
Yet Dragon (Shenlong) was clearly not nervous at all.
He didn't even rise from his lounge chair—his left hand still cradled his final cup of cola.
Casually, he raised his right hand, lifting his index finger slightly upward.
"Bzzzz!"
In an instant, Bon Clay felt the temperature around him plunge!
Just as the tip of his foot came within less than half a meter of Dragon's mask—
a massive wall of ice suddenly condensed out of thin air, standing between them.
"Bang!"
A dull, thunderous impact echoed through the hall as Bon Clay's kick slammed heavily into the ice wall.
And then—
"So cold… no, no, no… so painful—no, that's not it—this thing is way too hard!"
Bon Clay stared in disbelief.
His long-trained legs—his pride, capable of shattering massive boulders with a single kick—had struck the ice wall, yet it hadn't budged at all.
Forget cracking—it didn't even show a single fissure.
Instead, intense pain surged through Bon Clay's leg, a mixture of freezing cold and numbing frost.
At the same time, he could see sheets of ice spreading up his leg toward his body.
"Ice—hey, hey, hey! Aren't you supposed to control rainfall?!"
Bon Clay's eyes went wide as he shouted without hesitation.
"Miss Merry Christmas—this is about the time! The intel was wrong, I'm no match for this guy—attack together!"
As his voice fell—
"Rumble—!"
A roaring sound rose from beneath the ground as the earth began to tremble.
The stone floor of the Southern Hall suddenly shattered apart.
Amid the broken slabs, several deep, dark tunnels were clearly visible beneath the floor—tunnels that had appeared at some unknown moment.
"Oh?"
Dragon raised an eyebrow, seemingly sensing something.
At that moment, a round, bulky figure emerged from one of the tunnels.
It was a fat man wielding an enormous baseball bat, accompanied by a strange creature that looked like both a gun and a dachshund.
Baroque Works—Mr. 4, "Babe," and his pet:
the cannon Lassoo, which had eaten the Dog-Dog Fruit, Dachshund Model.
"Lassoo."
Mr. 4 spoke slowly.
"Prepare to fire."
The dachshund-gun Lassoo slowly raised its head.
Mr. 4 lifted his massive bat and assumed a batting stance.
"Four-Hundred-Pound Heavy Hitter."
He quietly spoke the name of his technique.
That's right—this was their signature combo attack:
Lassoo would spit out the projectile, and Mr. 4 would bat it away to deliver a long-range strike.
But—
Dragon: "…"
Bon Clay: "…"
Watching the master and pet move at an excruciatingly slow pace, Bon Clay's expression turned absurd.
"Hey, hey, hey—this is not the time to perform comedy! Who are you going to hit moving that slowly?! I'm about to get frozen solid here!"
He shouted as the ice spread up to his thigh.
"Of course it'll hit!"
"Because everything—including your defeat, Mr. 2—is proceeding exactly according to my meticulous plan!"
A sinister voice rang out.
Then, from another tunnel, a lock of hair shaped like the number '3' emerged—
and notably, there was a fuse at the tip, burning with a small flame.
At the same time another figure poked his head out as well—a thick-lipped man wearing glasses.
At this moment, both of his hands had already transformed into pure white wax.
Mr. 3, the Wax-Wax Fruit user—Galdino.
Clumps of wax extended from his arms, and on the other end—
"Hm?"
Dragon suddenly let out an interested sound.
Because he had noticed that the ground beneath his feet had somehow begun to seep out white wax, tightly binding his feet in place.
"When you were about to be defeated, I'd already asked Miss Christmas to dig tunnels beneath this guy's feet,"
Galdino said smugly to Bon Clay.
"Thanks to you keeping his attention—Mr. 4, do it!"
As his words fell, Babe and the dachshund-gun Lassoo—who had been preparing at a snail's pace for ages—finally completed their setup.
Lassoo opened its mouth and spat out four wooden boxes.
At last, Babe swung the bat.
"Bang!"
The immense strength of his bulky body instantly shattered the four boxes, and the contents shot toward Dragon at high speed.
In the blink of an eye, the four objects completely restrained Dragon's limbs.
They were unmistakably four pairs of handcuffs and shackles.
"Specially acquired Marine craftsmanship—handcuffs and leg shackles inlaid with Seastone, plus my wax—now this guy can't escape."
Galdino burst into arrogant laughter.
As he spoke, white wax continued to wrap around Dragon, sealing him more and more tightly.
Then—
"Hahahaha—I'll help too!"
Accompanied by exaggerated laughter, a woman holding a parasol descended from above.
"Hey, wait a second, Miss Valentine—I'm still here!"
Bon Clay shouted in panic.
The spreading ice was still connected to his leg, so even though Dragon had been completely sealed in wax, he still couldn't get away.
But clearly, the woman codenamed Miss Valentine, who had eaten the Kilo-Kilo Fruit, paid him no attention.
"Boom!"
An enormous weight instantly crushed both the wax-encased Dragon and Bon Clay straight into the ground.
Immediately afterward—
"Whoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
Three more figures suddenly shot out from the tunnels.
They were:
A black man with an afro and sunglasses—the Bomb-Bomb Fruit user, Mr. 5 "Gem."
A sexy blue-haired woman in leather—the Spike-Spike Fruit user, Miss Doublefinger "Zala."
And lastly—
A heavily muscled man with a monk-style haircut—the Dice-Dice Fruit user, Mr. 1, Daz Bonez.
At this moment, all three attacked simultaneously.
Miss Doublefinger's hair instantly transformed into sharp thorns, countless spikes piercing straight through Dragon's body.
Mr. 1's arms became razor-sharp blades, silently slicing Dragon's form clean apart.
"Hey! You stabbed me—aren't we colleagues?! Aren't we friends?!"
Amid the relentless piercing and slashing, Bon Clay twisted his body, shouting as he desperately tried to dodge.
Finally, at one moment, one of Mr. 1's slashes happened to sever the ice connecting Bon Clay's leg to Dragon.
He fell to the ground with a painful cry of "Oof!"
"You guys…"
But before he could finish complaining, he saw the two agents who had been frantically cutting and impaling Dragon retreating—
and the afro-haired Mr. 5 had already plucked out a strand of his own hair.
Bon Clay's expression changed drastically in an instant.
He immediately turned and leapt backward—and then—
"Boom!"
A violent explosion triggered by Mr. 5 erupted at once.
The massive blast instantly kicked up huge clouds of dust and blazing fire, shaking the entire South Palace.
"Bang!"
Bon Clay was once again thrown to the ground by the explosion, and at this point he finally snapped.
"You people are just trying to kill me, aren't you?! You're jealous of my beauty, right?!"
He shouted angrily, then pointed at Mr. 3, Galdino.
"Especially you, Galdino—you just want to kill me so you can become Mr. 2 yourself, don't you?!"
"Tch, he's still alive—ah, I mean, how could that be?"
Bon Clay narrowed his eyes.
"I heard the first half! I heard all of it!"
He fumed.
"But no matter what you do, it's useless—this time I'm the one with the greatest contribution! There's no way I'll let you become Mr. 2!"
"Huh?"
Galdino was clearly unconvinced.
"How could you be the top contributor?"
He smoothed his hair smugly.
"Whether it was you serving as the decoy, us approaching from underground, the Seastone cuffs locking down his powers, or the follow-up attacks—this artful plan was entirely my creation. No matter how you look at it, the top credit should go to me, right?"
"No, no, no—the top credit obviously belongs to me."
At this moment, a short, stout woman emerged from beneath the ground, her hands fitted with enormous mole-claw gloves.
The Mole-Mole Fruit user—Miss Merry Christmas.
"If I hadn't dug the tunnels, none of you could've gotten close to him, let alone kill him so easily."
"It was me."
"Clearly me."
"It—it was me!"
"Woof woof!"
As the Baroque Works assassins descended into noisy argument—
"…What is it?"
Miss Doublefinger quietly asked her calm, cold partner, Mr. 1.
At this moment, Mr. 1 didn't bother joining the quarrel.
As the highest-ranked assassin present, there was nowhere higher for him to climb, and he didn't care about credit anyway.
He simply stared at the thick smoke and flames left behind by the explosion and said quietly:
"Mr. 0's order was to kill him at any cost and ensure the plan proceeds smoothly."
"I'm waiting to confirm the target's death."
He knew very well how much the mysterious president of Baroque Works, Mr. 0, valued this mission—the number of people sent here was proof enough.
Except for Miss Goldenweek, nearly all of Baroque Works' elite had come.
And the only reason Miss Goldenweek wasn't present was because she was just a child, unsuitable for a long-distance assassination mission.
"…Relax. He's definitely dead."
Miss Doublefinger thought her partner was being overly cautious.
"I pierced him at least a hundred times, you practically cut his body to pieces, and on top of that, there was an explosion like that—no one could survive."
She spoke lazily, then glanced toward the increasingly noisy palace entrance.
"Besides, after that explosion, the guards will probably be back any moment now."
She was clearly preparing to withdraw.
"Once we confirm the target's death, we'll retreat."
Mr. 1 remained unmoved.
Miss Doublefinger sighed helplessly.
"You really are—"
Her words cut off abruptly.
In fact, at this exact moment, all of the Baroque Works assassins froze.
Because in that instant, every single one of them felt as if they had plunged into an icy abyss.
No—more precisely, the word "as if" didn't quite apply.
"So cold…"
"What do you mean cold? Have you lost your mind—so hot. No… scorching hot!"
The surrounding environment seemed to undergo constant, violent change.
The air felt bitterly cold, yet the ground beneath their feet glowed red-hot.
Scorching heat and bitter cold seemed to intertwine in that very moment.
Then—
"Tap." "Tap." "Tap."
Footsteps echoed.
Each step felt as though it were stamping directly onto their hearts.
Then—
"So it's not just one… hmm, there are eight of you in total."
"Very nice."
All of them heard that pleasantly amused voice.
And as the voice sounded, a figure emerged from the swirling smoke and dust.
Moments later, they clearly saw the dragon-headed mask—
and Dragon, casually tossing aside the Seastone shackles on his body, walking out completely unscathed.
"How is that possible…?"
Those four words became the shared thought of everyone present.
Their attacks had clearly hit him.
They had clearly locked Seastone cuffs onto him.
Everything had been perfect.
But Dragon clearly had no interest in their disbelief.
"I should tell you something—you destroyed my very last bottle of cola, so now…"
He looked at the members of Baroque Works, and for the first time, a dangerous edge entered his voice.
"I'm a little angry."
"You'd better go all out—otherwise… you'll die."