Wiping the sweat from his brow, Doflamingo, who had just gone through three consecutive rounds of combat, tossed the five unconscious crew members into a small pool on the deck to soak.
Back in his previous life, he'd read stories from veteran sailors on online forums, and the one word they used most to describe the sea was "boring."
He hadn't expected the reality of sailing to be this dull. The vast, boundless ocean could wear down even the most patient souls.
'Back in Eskimo, there were always distractions, so I never noticed it before.
This body's natural talent has made my stamina and endurance grow stronger by the day. Now, even my need for sleep has decreased.
What am I supposed to do for the rest of the journey? I can't just fight every day. I can handle it, but Rosinante and the others won't last.'
Lying on the deck, Doflamingo gazed at the distant sky, lost in thought.
'The New World. A paradise for the strong. A nightmare for the weak.
By now, Roger should have been ruling the New World for over a decade, exploring the unknown and clashing with the most formidable opponents. I envy that.
I wonder if the legendary "Red the Aloof" Patrick Redfield truly exists.
Then there's the Golden Lion, Shiki, who still hasn't had a ship's wheel lodged into his skull. Right now, he's leading his Flying Pirates, expanding his forces and chasing his dream of world domination.
As for Whitebeard—how many sons has Newgate taken in so far since leaving the Rocks Pirates?
And Big Mom—also a former Rocks Pirate—she's probably giving birth to her fortieth child by now.
Hmm… they both love their families so much. Why don't they just have a kid together?
With that bloodline, they'd probably create the world's strongest warrior by default.
Wait—no. Big Mom might have considered it, but Whitebeard probably refused.
And Kaido… he should have broken out of Punk Hazard by now, along with his newly acquired Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit. When I get the chance to deal with Caesar, I need to make sure to take those artificial fruits away from him. Letting that Momonosuke eat one would be an absolute waste.
Artificial Devil Fruits probably don't carry the will of real demons. I wonder… if Kaido ate another Uo Uo no Mi of the same model, would he just drop dead?'
Lost in thought about the power struggles of the New World, Doflamingo resumed his training, burning off his seemingly endless energy.
Now that he had the means, he needed to prepare for the day he would go head-to-head with Kaido.
As for the New World itself…
Though he longed to cross swords with the strongest, he wasn't ready yet.
Not everyone was like Douglas Bullet, the "Demon Heir" who destroyed a nation at fourteen and fought Rayleigh to a standstill at fifteen.
Right now, if he entered the New World, he'd be nothing more than a nameless foot soldier, unworthy of even witnessing the battles of true titans.
Then, a particular record surfaced in his mind.
Nineteen-year-old Bullet had fought twenty-year-old Crocodile to a draw.
Crocodile = Rayleigh?
Was this foreshadowing Crocodile's ridiculous post-prison power-up?
And then there was twenty-seven-year-old Moria, who had once faced thirty-six-year-old Kaido. His crew might have been wiped out, but at least he had survived.
Mihawk and Shanks used to spar daily, and even Whitebeard had once called their full-powered battles "spectacular."
Jinbe once held off Big Mom in a one-on-one fight.
A young Boa Hancock was considered a dangerous threat by Sengoku.
Even that fool, Whitebeard Jr., was strong enough to take an arm off Zephyr in his old age.
Doflamingo suddenly felt an uncomfortable realization creeping in.
Was he really the only one who had relied on his Celestial Dragon status, stolen the Heavenly Tribute, and blackmailed the World Government to gain his position as a Warlord?
'Damn it!'
Abandoning any thoughts of reducing his training intensity, he grabbed a spare anchor chain, wrapped it around his arms, and with a "splash," leapt off the deck.
As his lower body submerged in the sea, a wave of unbearable weakness washed over him—akin to the exhaustion of a sleepless night.
...
500 nautical miles from the Flamingo.
A fleet of ten Marine battleships was advancing in formation.
At the head of the convoy stood Sengoku, clad in a blue suit and draped in a coat emblazoned with the word "Justice" on the back.
He was heading straight for Doflamingo's last known location.
...
Four Years Later
North Blue, Spider Miles.
After four years of laying low, not just the port town but the entire nation had fallen under the control of the Donquixote Family, becoming a key manufacturing base for weapons, fueling the chaos of the North Blue.
Doflamingo was no longer the scrawny child he once was.
Now towering at an imposing 2.5 meters, his golden hair swept back, he wore red-tinted sunglasses, and his black shirt barely contained his bulging, blood-pumped muscles.
"Trebol, are you ready?"
Doflamingo asked casually, raising his now-massive right arm.
"D-Doffy… I-I'm ready!"
Trebol swallowed hard, forcing his blood to circulate faster in an attempt to boost his defenses. He stared at Doflamingo's gaze, trembling as he responded.
"Good. String-String Fruit: Artificial Muscle—Arm Enhancement."
The moment Trebol spoke, Doflamingo vanished and reappeared right in front of him. A massive, iron-clad fist slammed into Trebol's chest.
BOOM!
CRACK!
With the clear sound of bones shattering, Trebol's enormous body was sent flying like a cannonball, crashing into a towering heap of industrial scrap at the port, leaving a deep crater.
"Cough…! Doffy… you've gotten even stronger."
Struggling to his feet, Trebol's face flushed red, blood welling in his mouth. He clutched his broken ribs, unable to suppress his admiration.
So this… was the power of a king?
'I did it! Trading blows with Kaido is just around the corner!!'
Watching as Trebol coughed up fragments of his own organs, Doflamingo smirked in satisfaction.
Slowly, he retracted the fibrous strings woven into his muscles, letting his body recover from the strain of exerting such extreme force.
Over the past four years, the more he pushed himself, the more he felt the limitations of the String-String Fruit. Parasite String was a great ability, but it was only useful against the weak.
At its core, his Devil Fruit could only create and manipulate physical strings.
Concepts like "time strings," "fate strings," or "magnetic field threads" were intriguing ideas… but completely beyond his grasp.
So, he returned to the most fundamental pursuit of all—raw power.
In this brutal world, talent, technique, and even Devil Fruits…
Ultimately, it all came down to one thing:
Pure, overwhelming strength.
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+100 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg