[Cover Story Serial — Donquixote Arc: "The 150th 'Tally' Mark"]
"In the filthy, dim prison cell, time seems to have lost all meaning. To remind oneself of existence, one must always be doing something."
"Doflamingo was currently curled up in the corner, his eyes empty and lifeless. He lowers his head to glance at the freshly delivered slop, stretches out his right hand in a mechanical motion, and carves another stroke into the wall already covered with tally marks…"
...
Is there a problem?
There are plenty of problems!
Nao rubbed his forehead helplessly. Without bothering to explain further, he said flatly:
"Forget it. I'll go there myself."
"Eh?"
The old king froze. Before he could say anything more, Nao's body had already turned into a bolt of blue lightning — soaring straight into the sky and vanishing from sight in an instant.
The Marines aboard the Thunder Hawk were already used to this sight and calmly dispersed.
As for the Karemia delegation, they all stood dumbfounded, staring blankly up at the heavens for a long time before anyone could even react…
...
Karemia Kingdom — The Royal Capital
The city, nestled between mountain and sea, was a prosperous hub well-known throughout the North Blue — its citizens wealthy, its buildings densely packed, and its ports always lively.
But now…
The city lay in ruins. Ever since the outer city fell, the royal army and palace guards had been forced to retreat and make a desperate stand behind the inner fortifications.
The pirates were still outside, unable to breach the gates for the moment, but cannonfire rained down intermittently, explosions blooming across the city like malignant flowers.
As night fell, the offensive paused — yet scattered artillery blasts still echoed now and then, lighting up the outer city streets with bursts of fire.
Inside the royal palace, the lights burned bright.
The kingdom's prime minister, an elderly man even older than King Karemia IX, paced restlessly across the grand hall, hands clasped behind his back, his face lined with anxiety.
Several ministers stood nearby, whispering heatedly among themselves.
"If we take advantage of the night to form an elite strike force, maybe we can surprise them — at least take down a good number of those pirates!"
"Useless. The captured soldiers are all being held in the port warehouses — heavily guarded, impossible to reach. If we launch a sneak attack without rescuing them first, we'll only enrage the pirates and put the hostages in greater danger."
"But His Majesty's orders were clear: even if he must give up the throne and meet their outrageous demands, those soldiers cannot be abandoned."
"Tch… this won't work, that won't work — all this hesitation is suffocating! Are we just going to sit here, helpless?"
The debate dragged on, yet no real solution emerged.
Then—
"Prime Minister! Prime Minister!"
Hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor, and the palace doors burst open as the captain of the royal guard stumbled in, panting.
"Th-the… the envoy from the World Government has arrived!"
"Oh?"
The old prime minister froze mid-step, then turned with visible relief.
"Quick! Bring the envoy in!"
"Yes, sir!"
The captain spun around — but before he could even take a step, a dark shadow strode calmly in from the hallway. With one hand, he lightly pushed the guard aside and said in a low, indifferent voice:
"There's no need for that."
Light fell upon him — a boy, no older than thirteen or fourteen, dressed neatly in a black suit, with jet-black hair and an expressionless face.
"A… a child?"
The prime minister blinked, dumbfounded, while the rest of the officials broke into uproar.
"This… this little brat?"
A bearded official growled furiously, slamming his palm on the table.
"Has the World Government lost its mind? Sending us this snot-nosed kid — is this some kind of joke?"
Amid the rising murmurs, the boy in the black suit — Rob Lucci — stood motionless, his eyes still closed, his expression utterly cold.
When the hall finally quieted a little, he spoke — his voice calm, detached, and chillingly precise:
"The prey. Where is it?"
The officials exchanged uneasy glances, still whispering among themselves — but not a single one dared to answer.
"Prey…"
The old prime minister blinked in mild surprise, then quickly regained his composure and replied in a deep voice:
"If you mean the Iron Hammer Pirates, their main force is currently occupying the western port of the capital as their base. By now… they're probably having a victory feast over there."
"I see."
Rob Lucci finally opened his eyes — dark, emotionless pupils that seemed to swallow all light.
"Then, from here on, leave everything to me."
With that, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the hall's exit.
"Wait!"
The old prime minister suddenly called out, his tone earnest.
"Sir! Please, no matter what, make the hostages' safety your top priority — I beg of you! They are brave men who fought to defend the kingdom and its people!"
"…."
Lucci stopped mid-step. He turned his head slightly, casting a cold, sideways glance at the old man.
"What's this? Are you… giving the World Government advice?"
For some reason—
Though the one standing before them was just a teenage boy, that single glance made the prime minister and every official in the hall feel their blood run cold.
Without thinking, they all took a step back.
The old prime minister swallowed hard, staring at Lucci in disbelief.
This aura… this killing intent… this oppressive presence…
How can something like that exist in a child?
"…Hmph."
Lucci withdrew his gaze with a faint snort of disdain, then strode out of the hall without looking back.
As the black-suited boy's figure faded into the night, the prime minister stood frozen, a mixture of frustration and dread twisting in his chest.
He could feel it—
That boy hadn't taken his plea seriously at all.
"World Government…"
The old man clenched his jaw and slammed a trembling fist against a nearby pillar.
...
Under the moonlight, at the port.
Just as the prime minister had said, a raucous celebration feast was in full swing aboard the Iron Hammer Pirates' ship.
"Come on, boys, drink up!"
Their captain — a tall, skinny man with sharp red hair and a thin mustache — raised his cup and laughed heartily.
"With the hostages in our hands, the royal palace will have no choice but to surrender by tomorrow! Tonight, let's indulge to our hearts' content!"
"Long live Captain Bobitru!"
Thunderous cheers shook the deck as countless mugs clashed, sending froth and beer spraying everywhere.
"The so-called royal army — turns out they weren't that tough after all! We crushed them like nothing!"
"Of course! They were up against none other than Captain Bobitru, with a bounty of fifty million berries!"
"Hah! What 'Captain Bobitru'—" a drunken pirate cackled, slamming his cup down, "—you mean His Majesty the New King!"
"Oooohhh!!! Long live the new king!!"
...
Amidst the boiling cheers.
In the quiet night, a solitary figure, completely out of place, slowly and steadily walked toward them.
"More booze, bring more booze!"
"Over here too, hurry up, hurry up!"
Rob Lucci stepped onto the deck. All around him were pirates too drunk to notice, their revelry echoing into the sea breeze.
It wasn't until he stood still, letting his cold gaze sweep across the deck, that a nearby group finally noticed him.
"Oi! Where'd this brat come from?" one pirate barked, startled. "How'd you even get up here?"
The others turned their attention toward him — even Captain 'Iron Hammer' Bobitru, who had been gulping down wine, narrowed his eyes and stared at the boy.
"You don't need to know."
The black-suited boy's voice was utterly flat. "All you need to understand is this: I'm here, in the name of the World Government, to arrest you."
Arrest?
Bobitru blinked, then clapped a hand to his belly and laughed out loud:
"Arrest me? Hey, hey—are you kidding? I'm the Iron Hammer, a pirate with a fifty-million-berry bounty! You little milk-suckin' brat — you've got some nerve talking like that."
The deck erupted in raucous laughter.
Obviously, nobody took a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old kid seriously.
"Looks like the World Government's really short on people."
Bobitru shook his head and waved his hand impatiently.
.Two of his officers leapt forward with vicious grins, drawing blades and swinging down in a coordinated slash: "We don't have time to play with kids. Get lost!"
Faced with the crossed blades, Rob Lucci didn't even flinch. He spoke calmly and almost casually:
"Iron block."
Clang!
Amid the dull sound, two broken sword blades fell to the ground. The two pirates who had crossed past him turned their heads in shock, staring dumbfounded at their broken swords.
The deck fell silent for an instant.
Rumble!
Just then, a rolling thunderclap suddenly came from the distant sky. Dark clouds began to gather in the night sky.
A heavy rain coming?
All the pirates instinctively looked up at the sky. Bobitru also frowned. If it had to rain right now, that would be really unlucky; the banquet wasn't even over yet.
Fortunately, no lightning flashed across the night sky, and the thunder gradually faded away, restoring calm.
Good...
The pirates collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
Bobitru also turned his gaze back to the black-suited boy's face, grinning as he said: "Can make your body block swords? Weird techniques... So you do have some skill. It seems this brat might not be lying about being from the World Government..."
"However,"
He sneered, "Right now is the time for me and my brothers to drink and feast. You interrupting already makes me very unhappy... If you dare make any more moves, I can't guarantee the safety of those hostages in the warehouse."
Click-click-click!
The surrounding pirates drew their guns in unison. Over a dozen pistols were cocked simultaneously, triggers held tight, all aimed at Rob Lucci, trapped in the middle.
"..."
Surrounded by so many guns, Rob Lucci's expression remained completely unfazed. He simply stared coldly at Bobitru.
"What, speechless? Finally know to be cautious and afraid?"
Bobitru mocked. "Just go and stay in the warehouse obediently. Behave yourself, and I might spare your miserable life to use as leverage in future negotiations with the World Government."
"Take him away!"
He waved his hand, raised his cup again, and roared with laughter: "Keep drinking, boys! Tonight, we don't stop until we're wasted!"
"Cheers!!!"
The black-suited boy was restrained by several pirates and escorted off the ship. He offered no resistance throughout.
No one noticed the faint, mocking curve that secretly lifted the corner of his mouth.
...
CLANG!
The heavy iron door creaked open. The pirates pushed the black-suited boy inside roughly.
"Get in there, brat!"
Moonlight spilled through the narrow crack of the door, revealing the scene inside the warehouse.
It was packed with hundreds of soldiers from the royal army, many wounded and exhausted. They looked up weakly toward the entrance, eyes widening when they saw the boy being thrown in.
"Another kid? What's going on?"
"This little punk," one of the pirates sneered, "tsk, tsk — says he's some envoy from the World Government, came here to 'save' you lot."
"Too bad he's a hostage now too!"
Another pirate began to close the door, laughing triumphantly. "Now the World Government'll have to do what we say! The Iron Hammer Pirates are unstoppable!!"
"You're all hostages anyway — get along in there!"
Bang!
The door slammed shut again, plunging the warehouse back into dimness.
"All the hostages are here, right?"
The black-suited boy suddenly spoke.
"Yeah," a young soldier nodded, frowning. "Why?"
"That's good…"
The boy smiled faintly. "That means I can take action — without worrying about holding back."
Take action?
"What do you mean—?" the young soldier barely got the words out before the black-suited boy raised his right hand. His calm voice uttered two words:
"Finger Pistol."
Whoosh!
His index finger shot forward like a bullet, aimed straight for the soldier's forehead. The young man froze, eyes wide in horror as the fingertip grew larger and larger in his pupils—
Thud!
Just then, a dull sound abruptly interrupted Rob Lucci's action.
The Finger Pistol seemed to have been blocked by something. The black-suited boy looked down at the ground and saw a pigeon lying there, flapping its wings half-heartedly, seemingly half-dead...
A pigeon?
Lucci glanced at the small high window. A faint frown crossed his face. What a coincidence. A random pigeon happened to fly in and blocked my Finger Pistolfor this soldier?
Well, it changes nothing…
He withdrew his gaze and lifted his right hand again. But this time, the young soldier stumbled back into the crowd, terrified. The other soldiers surrounded him angrily.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!"
"Didn't you say you were an envoy from the World Government? Why are you attacking us instead of going after the criminals outside!"
…
So they'd caught on.
"Criminals?"
Lucci's cold gaze swept across the battered soldiers. "From what I see… you are the criminals."
"What did you just say?!"
"As soldiers of a kingdom, you surrendered to pirates — you failed to defend your homeland. If that's not evil, then what is? If you're not criminals, then what are you?"
His voice remained calm, almost detached. "Weakness itself is evil. Weaklings like you don't deserve to exist in this world. I'm merely carrying out my justice."
"Soru."
The moment his words fell, his killing intent surged. He couldn't be bothered with further talk. In a flash, he appeared above the heads of the numerous soldiers. Under countless terrified gazes, he raised his right leg—
Swish!
Just as the "Tempest Kick" was about to be unleashed, something small and white seemed to fly into the corner of his eye.
As Rob Lucci was about to turn his head to look, his body suddenly felt as if struck by a heavy blow, slamming hard onto the ground.
THUD!
Wh–What…?
Clutching his abdomen, he coughed up a large mouthful of blood and looked up in disbelief. The same plump little white pigeon he had knocked down earlier was now looking down at him, a mocking expression on its face.