CHAPTER 106: THE PATH TO THE SWORDSMAN
As an emperor of the underworld, Doflamingo was intimately familiar with the name "Dracule Mihawk." The World's Strongest Swordsman was a legend, a figure of pure, untamed strength. He also knew Mihawk's other, more ominous title: "Marine Hunter." The man had cut down countless Marines, including officers of high rank. Doflamingo had no illusions; in a direct fight, he was no match for Hawk-Eyes. That title wasn't self-proclaimed; it was carved from the bones of every challenger who had dared to face him.
Every swordsman in the world either dreamed of being challenged by Mihawk—a mark of supreme recognition—or dreamed of dethroning him. None had succeeded. The gap between Mihawk and the rest seemed to be a sheer cliff face.
"Give me a day," Doflamingo said, already mentally accessing his network of informants, smugglers, and bounty hunters. "I'll find where he is and give you the location."
"Good," Satoru nodded. "I'll be back in a day."
And just like that, Satoru vanished. One moment he was there, the next he wasn't. No burst of speed, no blur—just an absence where a person had been. Doflamingo's sunglasses hid his wide eyes. What kind of ability is that? Teleportation? Something to do with that invisible barrier?
"If Dracule Mihawk also becomes a Warlord," Doflamingo mused to the empty room, a slow grin spreading, "then the 'Seven' will have some real teeth. I hope the other five can keep up."
The day passed quickly for Satoru. He kept a discreet eye on the chaos and subsequent re-suppression in Dressrosa, and sent a secure message to Monkey D. Dragon. The Revolutionary Army leader would be very interested in a kingdom whose horrific secret had just been violently exposed, a kingdom now nominally under the World Government's protection. It was the perfect kind of tinder for Dragon's fire.
The next day, Satoru reappeared in the palace as silently as he'd left.
"Mihawk is currently on the island of La Ravisa," Doflamingo reported, handing over a small Eternal Pose, its needle pointing unerringly southwest. "Rumor has it a supremely skilled swordsman lives there in seclusion. Mihawk must have heard and gone to issue a challenge. That's his way—he'll travel to any of the four seas if a worthy blade awaits."
"Thanks. Your network is efficient," Satoru said. He extended a hand, and the Eternal Pose lifted from Doflamingo's palm, floating through the air into Satoru's grip.
Doflamingo watched, his mind reeling again. Telekinesis too? Or part of the same ability? He buried his questions. Perhaps he could get answers from another source… like Ember of the Beasts Pirates. The man had faced Satoru directly. He would know the nature of this power.
"I'm off," Satoru said. "Next time we meet, I hope you're still as… composed as you are now." Before Doflamingo could parse the meaning of that odd farewell, Satoru was gone again.
"What is that Devil Fruit?" Doflamingo muttered, frustration and awe warring within him. "Intangibility? Space manipulation? A barrier that blocks everything?" His vast knowledge offered no clear answer.
"Young Master," Trebol slithered forward, worry in his voice. "Is joining this Warlord system wise? It makes us enemies of every other pirate on the sea!"
"And do you think the few of us could have stopped him?" Doflamingo shot back, gesturing to where Satoru had stood.
Trebol fell silent. The point was unarguable.
"And who said Warlords have to be enemies of pirates?" Doflamingo's grin returned, full of malice and cunning. "We simply have a legal shield. Our nature… remains unchanged. FUFUFUFU!" His trademark laugh, suppressed for a full day, finally erupted, echoing through the throne room.
There was no convenient Marine ship heading to La Ravisa. Satoru would have to make his own way. He couldn't risk Mihawk leaving before he arrived.
"Cursed Technique Lapse: Maximum Output — Blue."
A point of intense gravitational pull formed in front of him. The very air distorted. Satoru stepped into it, and the world blurred into streaks of color. He wasn't flying; he was falling through space, pulled by his own created singularity across the vast ocean.
A few minutes later, he touched down on the rocky shores of La Ravisa. To cross such a distance so quickly would shatter the understanding of any logician or physicist in this world. Even Kizaru, the "Yellow Flash," couldn't achieve such speed over such range.
But the feat came at a cost. Satoru landed, bending slightly to catch his breath. Two beads of sweat traced paths down his temples. Manipulating space on a trans-oceanic scale, even with his near-infinite energy, was mentally and physically draining.
He straightened up, his senses immediately assaulted. "What terrifying sword intent… It's already begun. I hope I'm not too late."
The air itself felt cut, sharp and cold. Two immense, clashing pressures—one a lonely, supreme peak, the other a deep, rooted mountain—warred invisibly over the island. The sword intent he'd felt from Cullom and Ember was a candle flame compared to these two roaring bonfires.
A thought struck him. Cullom. She was on the cusp of becoming a true Great Swordsman. Witnessing a battle at this level could be the catalyst she needed. And if she broke through, his work at G-8 would get a lot easier…
He acted on the impulse immediately.
Back at G-8 base, Commander Cullom was reviewing patrol logs in her office. The air warped beside her.
"Wha—?!"
Before she could even grab her sword, Satoru's hand was on her shoulder.
"Field trip," he said simply.
And they vanished.
In the corridor outside, two passing Marines froze, mugs of coffee halting midway to their mouths. They had seen a flash of white hair, then nothing.
"…Was that the Admiral?"
"Y-yeah."
"…Did he just kidnap Commander Cullom?"
They stared at the empty space where their formidable swordswoman commander had been standing just a second before. It certainly looked like a kidnapping.
(End of Chapter)
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