"Where is the Op-Op Fruit?"
Its existence alone is enough to make the World Government and the top forces of the Naval Headquarters tremble.
A teenage kid like Luo—how could he possibly withstand Ayr's overwhelming Conqueror's Haki, akin to the force that once brought giants to their knees in the New World?
When Pica regained consciousness, he found himself lying inside a hut nearby, his memory foggy, as though struck by Shinra Tensei—a sudden, devastating pressure he couldn't comprehend.
And Doflamingo? Even as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, he now found himself woefully outclassed.
But now, everything had changed.
Even Doflamingo's elite officers—Pica, Diamante, Trebol—were all incapacitated by the sheer spiritual might of Ayr's Conqueror's Haki.
Today, Doflamingo knew the bitter truth: he would not be leaving this island alive.
Ayr had already sensed it. The Op-Op Fruit was on the island.
"That's Ayr, the monster himself. You were all knocked out by his Haki," Doflamingo explained as his officers slowly came to.
Though many had only heard tales of Ayr, to experience his presence was like facing Madara Uchiha's Susanoo—immense, unrelenting, and divine.
"I believe this could work in our favor," Doflamingo said with a twisted grin.
"What… just happened?" Pica asked, his voice groggy. "How did I black out so suddenly?"
Doflamingo sighed in relief, thankful that Ayr's killing intent hadn't been directed at him. Yet there was no mistaking it—Ayr did harbor some murderous intent.
Right now, Ayr stood as a greater threat than any Yonko.
"Clearly, the Op-Op Fruit is crucial to this monster," Diamante said gravely, wiping cold sweat from his brow.
The Donquixote officers, who had been stunned moments ago, were finally coming back to their senses.
Doflamingo turned and walked back into the hut, face grim.
His crew, shaken, exchanged uneasy glances. They had heard Ayr's name countless times—
but this was the first time they truly felt it.
And Doflamingo had a strong hunch: Ayr knew exactly where the Op-Op Fruit was.
He could still see it in his mind—Rosinante falling to the ground from Doflamingo's shot, blood seeping out slowly.
And now, even Luo was caught in the storm.
Sitting beside a makeshift table, Doflamingo popped the cork of a rare wine bottle.
"The Op-Op Fruit," he said flatly, "was taken by Luo. Most likely, he passed out from Ayr's Haki. He should still be somewhere on this island."
If Ayr were to acquire the power of immortality from the Op-Op Fruit's Perpetual Youth Surgery, he would transcend the level of any known pirate or Marine. His threat would become mythical—perhaps even Six Paths level.
The chaos that would erupt from Ayr gaining such power would disrupt the balance of the world. And that suited mid-tier powers like Doflamingo just fine.
After all, if the giants fall, the rats can thrive in the rubble.
And now that Doflamingo was also on the island…
There was no avoiding it. A clash between Ayr and the Marines was inevitable.
And that clash would leave devastation in its wake.
"If that monster really uses the Op-Op Fruit to gain immortality," Doflamingo mused, "this sea will descend into madness."
In the end, at least one faction—Marine or Pirate—would suffer catastrophic losses.
The World Government would unleash every resource it had to prevent such a future.
The Donquixote officers, still weak-kneed, stood up and looked around warily.
Ayr cast a sidelong glance at Doflamingo, then calmly strode into the depths of the island.
Doflamingo, meanwhile, began forming plans in the shadows of his mind.
"What happened to Dover?" Trebol asked, trying to get his bearings.
But the moment his mind began to grasp it, he felt his consciousness falter again, crushed beneath the weight of Haki far beyond anything he had known.
Ayr didn't care about Doflamingo's resignation from the Warlords.
Because to someone like Ayr, the top brass of the Marines were nothing more than obstacles to be crushed.
"Where is the Op-Op Fruit?" Ayr demanded.
Watching the pirate king-level threat walk into the trees, Doflamingo said nothing—only stared, chilled to the core.
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