The underworld of the New World had always been ruled by a handful of giants arms dealers, informants, slavers, smugglers. These shadowy trades were often far more brutal than open wars on the sea.
Because of Rett's involvement, the timeline had shifted. Gild Tesoro had already stepped into the underworld earlier than in the original flow of history. Quietly, his influence spread like golden veins through the dark markets, and before long the name of the "Golden Emperor" was whispered across the seas.
On the surface, Tesoro appeared to be a casino and entertainment tycoon. But beneath the glitter, his golden tendrils reached deeper: black market auctions (though never in slave trade), underground intelligence networks, even the secret circulation of weapons within the Navy.
That was how Tesoro earned the confidence to one day tell Rett that, when necessary, all of it could be transformed into military might.
Doflamingo, meanwhile, had only just begun laying the groundwork for his family's rise, saving coin and influence in Paradise. He thought that the New World's underworld still had plenty of unclaimed space.
What he didn't know was that Tesoro already monopolized more than thirty percent of all underground trade, controlling nearly a quarter of the world's total wealth.
Those so-called "masterless" industries? They were Tesoro's bait, deliberately left unattended.
When Tesoro stepped into the captain's cabin, his expression was unusually relaxed.
Rett sat with his legs up, playing rock-paper-scissors with Laboon.
"Laboon, I threw paper. You threw rock. I win!" Rett grinned.
The whale looked at his fin, nodded solemnly, and pulled a small dried fish from the little pouch Stella had sewn for him.
"Well well, Mr. Tesoro. You seem in a good mood today." Rett laughed as he counted his winnings. The fish was salty, spicy, and surprisingly tasty.
Tesoro didn't bother to smile. He tossed a thick file onto the table. "Captain. Our underworld operations have been attacked. The bait is working."
Rett raised an eyebrow, skimming the file. "Donquixote Doflamingo? The flamingo?"
"To be precise, his family," Tesoro sneered. "They just gained a foothold in the New World and now they want a slice of the black market. But as you can see…" He tapped the vandalized Donquixote crest on the report. "They've walked straight into the trap. If they're not complete fools, they'll have realized it by now."
Meanwhile, in Doflamingo's palace.
"What did you just say?!" The Heavenly Demon crushed his wineglass in one hand, crimson liquid dripping between his fingers.
Torrebol trembled as he held out a file. "A-according to our investigation… the ports and casinos we recently seized… all have connections to 'Gran Tesoro.'"
Diamante's face twisted in anger. "But we targeted unclaimed territory!"
"Fuffuffuffu…" Doflamingo's laugh was like knives scraping glass. "Unclaimed? No. We've been played."
He finally understood. Tesoro had been fishing. And the Donquixote Family was the dumb fish that took the bait.
"Doffy, if we pull back now, it might not be too late…" Torrebol whispered nervously.
But Doflamingo's fingers were already twitching with threads, his eyes hidden by cold glass.
Retreat? Impossible. They had already poured too much blood and treasure into this gamble. If they backed down now, their family would lose its chance to stand in the New World forever.
"Continue," he said, his voice like a blade of ice. "If Tesoro wants a game, then we'll play it big."
Back on Rett's deck, the captain leaned lazily against the railing. "That kid is interesting. Crazy enough, ruthless enough, and he loves pulling strings. The perfect man for dirty work."
He actually admired Doflamingo in a way. From Luffy's or Law's perspective, the man was a monster. He killed, enslaved, and destroyed. But if you saw through Doflamingo's eyes, the story was different. Born to fallen Celestial Dragons, betrayed by foolish parents, he clawed his way up from the bottom. Piece by piece, he built his family, became Joker of the underworld, seized a kingdom, and toyed with both the Marines and the World Government.
A revenge-driven antihero if there ever was one.
Of course, Rett knew his character was rotten beyond repair. But some jobs required exactly that kind of filth. Not everyone in the world could be reasoned with.
Rett didn't want to be like Roger, who only left behind a title. He wanted to become the ultimate "Face" of the world, the man who cast his blood mist over every corner of the seas. Power alone wasn't enough. He wanted dominance in every aspect.
Tesoro adjusted his glasses. "So you want me to keep leaving bait?"
"Exactly. He won't spit it out." Rett grinned, blood mist curling around his fingers. "Let him bite. Let him think he's winning. And when he's swallowed the hook deepest…"
"That's when we reel him in."
And so, Rett let the Donquixote Family run wild for a while.
As expected, Doflamingo soon grew suspicious.
"Fuffuffuffu… Rett's reaction is far too gentle. That's not his style," Doflamingo mused from his throne. His family stood below, waiting.
"If it were anyone else, he would have struck already."
Torrebol hesitated. "You mean… this is on purpose?"
"No. They're observing." Doflamingo's smile twisted. "They want to see if I'm worth making into a tool. Hah… Do they think I'll just play along?"
He guessed correctly. Rett was evaluating whether Doflamingo was worth recruiting. And to be honest, Rett didn't mind either way.
If Doflamingo turned out to be useless, Rett wouldn't even be interested in crushing him.
But as Rett pondered his next move, something strange appeared on the horizon.
A coffin? Floating across the waves?
No… not just a coffin. A tiny, black boat shaped like one. And standing at its bow was a lone figure cloaked in black, golden eyes sharp as hawk talons, a massive black sword strapped across his back.
Dracule Mihawk.
He was not yet the "World's Greatest Swordsman." But the sharp edge of his will was unmistakable as his gaze locked on Rett.
"Now that's a dramatic entrance…" Rett squinted, lips curling into a grin. "Don't tell me you've come to challenge me?"
After years on the sea, Rett had seen all kinds. But these duel-obsessed maniacs… he could never get used to them.
Enel snorted from atop the mast. "Another idiot courting death."
Lina's hand tightened on her rapier. She whispered, "Captain… his sword aura is dangerous."
She was right. At her current level, she stood no chance against Mihawk.
Rett, however, finally looked excited. Blood mist rippled around his form. "At last. Something interesting."
After all… what was worth clashing blades with, if not a rising greatsword master?
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