In the underworld, everything had a price.
Even Doflamingo—the so-called King of the Underground—could be killed, so long as someone paid enough to place a high-enough bounty. There would always be assassins willing to risk it all.
But White Flame wasn't the kind of man to let someone else fight his battles.
His revenge was personal. It would be his hands that did the killing—and his enemies' blood that paid the debt.
He knew much about this world from memory—about Doflamingo, his officers, the empire of crime ruling Dressrosa. But manga knowledge and reality rarely matched. When facing monsters like the Donquixote Family, details were everything.
Each officer was powerful. Too powerful to underestimate.
And even with Ajin immortality, White Flame couldn't rely only on brute force.
He needed to evolve. To plan.
To outgrow them.
"Doesn't matter," he murmured, lighting a cigarette as he leaned back on the sofa. "I've got all the time in the world."
From the moment he first died and resurrected, time had stopped for him.
His body would never age, never change—his organs frozen in perfect, unending stasis.
He was eternal.
He could take his time.
Half an hour later, a sudden surge of heat rushed through his veins.
The power from the traffickers that Little Black had devoured continued feeding back into him—burning, reshaping, strengthening him.
Then—
DING!
∗∗Congratulations.Energythresholdexceeded.IBMcountlimitincreased.Youmaynowsummon:2∗∗**Congratulations. Energy threshold exceeded. IBM count limit increased. You may now summon: 2**∗∗Congratulations.Energythresholdexceeded.IBMcountlimitincreased.Youmaynowsummon:2∗∗
White Flame sat up straight, eyes glinting.
"Two… I can summon two at once?"
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Now that's interesting."
In the world of Ajin, even the strongest could summon only a single IBM.
But this system—his system—was rewriting the rules.
Through consumption—through devouring—his limits kept breaking.
Two IBMs meant his combat power wouldn't just double… it would skyrocket.
Imagine it: one specter overwhelming the enemy head-on, while another struck unseen.
A perfect nightmare—two invisible killers listening to his commands.
And outside of battle…
Two IBMs meant two predators feeding, two streams of energy pouring into him twice as fast.
Exponential growth.
"System," White Flame exhaled a thin trail of smoke. "If I keep feeding—keep devouring—can I increase that number again?"
Silence.
He waited, staring at the ceiling through the haze of smoke.
Five long minutes passed before the cold mechanical voice returned:
∗∗Yes.ContinueabsorbingbiologicalenergytoincreasethenumberofIBMsyoucansummon.Thereisnoupperlimit.∗∗**Yes. Continue absorbing biological energy to increase the number of IBMs you can summon. There is no upper limit.**∗∗Yes.ContinueabsorbingbiologicalenergytoincreasethenumberofIBMsyoucansummon.Thereisnoupperlimit.∗∗
White Flame froze.
No upper limit.
He'd suspected something like that—but hearing it confirmed sent a tremor through his fingers.
"Unlimited IBMs…" he whispered.
"An invisible empire… and an immortal king."
The thought alone made his pulse quicken.
He finished the cigarette in a long drag and laughed softly, smoke spilling through his grin.
"One Little Black was enough to terrorize all of Dressrosa," he said. "With two… even Doflamingo won't be able to stop me. He'll watch while I eat his empire alive."
"Come out."
A ripple of black particles gathered before him—another IBM materializing beside the first.
This one was larger, taller, its claws longer and sharper.
"Master…" it rasped, voice low and hollow. "Awaiting… your command…"
White Flame's eyes gleamed.
"So the stronger I get, the stronger my new IBMs become. Clever system. You're really evolving."
He smirked.
"Still, strength or not—you're number two. The first came before you, and that matters."
He waved lazily.
"Your name is Little Two Black. Remember it. It'll follow you for eternity."
The new creature tilted its head.
"Little… Two Black… name… nice… Master… Little Two Black…" it repeated in a slow, distorted tone.
Its power was greater—but its mind was still dull and loyal.
White Flame chuckled.
"Good. Now then…"
His gaze chilled.
"The traffickers were only the beginning. Next, I'll turn the entire black market into my slaughterhouse."
He stood, glancing down at his bloodstained clothes.
"But first… a bath. Hard to enjoy a meal smelling like dried blood."
He nodded at the new IBM.
"Little Two Black, help Little Black finish cleaning up. Crush the bones, scatter them in the sea. Make sure not even their ghosts come back."
The next day, a knock sounded on the door.
Kyros and Rebecca stood outside, the girl holding a beautifully wrapped cake in her tiny hands.
"Today's Rebecca's birthday," the toy soldier said with a polite bow. "She insisted on celebrating it with you. I hope we're not intruding."
Rebecca beamed. "It's my birthday cake, Mister Savior! It's too big for just the two of us, so please—have some too!"
White Flame studied them for a moment, cigarette in hand. He knew they only wished to show gratitude.
"…Cake, huh? Haven't had that in a long time," he said at last. "Sure. Why not."
"Yay!" Rebecca cheered. "A birthday party with our savior!"
They ate together, and soon the entire cake was gone.
Rebecca's laughter echoed through the room until she eventually curled up on the sofa and drifted asleep.
Kyros smiled softly, though his wooden face showed no expression.
White Flame leaned back, lighting another cigarette, smoke drifting upward and shadowing his eyes.
"Kyros," he said quietly, "tell me everything you know about the Donquixote Family."
His tone was calm—
But his intent was colder than steel.
"All of it."
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