"Weak?"
The lazy expression on Kuzan's face finally vanished completely, replaced by an extremely dangerous calm.
The surrounding temperature dropped abruptly, and the frost condensing in the air made a faint cracking sound.
"Arara, you... you're arrogant enough to make someone really angry."
"This isn't arrogance."
Abel shook his head.
"It's just a fact."
"Your civilization can't even manage to connect with the universe."
His dull, grey eyes swept over Kuzan, then over the Marines standing ready in the distance; his voice was flat yet carried an unquestionable authority.
"If the Foundation's main force weren't currently at war with the Namekians, creating a gap in internal defenses, that joker would never have had the chance to slip through."
"And I wouldn't have followed his trail to descend upon this remote and barren planet."
Kuzan's brow furrowed tightly; his brain was on the verge of crashing.
Namekians?
What the hell is that supposed to be!
Mordred almost burst out laughing within the mental space.
"The traitor you mentioned—what exactly did he steal?"
Kuzan asked the key question.
Abel's mouth twitched, revealing a savage grin that looked worse than crying.
It was the excitement of a beast about to tear its prey to shreds.
"A containment object codenamed 'Blacklight'."
"In the Foundation's archives, it is defined as an X-class hazard."
Kuzan's brow remained furrowed.
More unfamiliar vocabulary.
"Don't understand?"
Abel casually pulled a dagger from the void, flipping it nimbly between his fingers.
"Simply put, that thing can turn carbon-based organisms into perfect killing machines."
"It rewrites genes, devours flesh, and turns the host into a monster that knows nothing but feeding and evolution."
"Furthermore, it possesses a hive mind."
"As long as a single Mother exists, the infected on the entire planet will become an army that follows orders implicitly."
"If he isn't stopped."
Abel continued to up the ante, his voice icy.
"In three months at most, there will be no living people left on this planet."
"Only a swarm of monsters devouring each other will remain, until the planet's resources are completely exhausted."
"At that time, the Foundation will initiate the 'Purge Protocol'."
"They will blow up this planet directly to prevent the virus from spreading to other dimensions."
Blow up the planet directly?
Kuzan exhaled a breath of white mist, the muscles at the corner of his eye twitching slightly.
Reason told him the other party wasn't lying.
"That's quite an exaggerated way of handling things..."
Kuzan scratched his head, trying to ease the atmosphere that was so tense it felt ready to snap.
Just then.
Buru buru buru... Buru buru buru... The sudden, urgent ringing of a Den Den Mushi broke the dead silence of the square.
The sound came from Kuzan's wrist.
He was wearing a black anti-eavesdropping Den Den Mushi there.
Kuzan didn't answer immediately; instead, he took a deep look at the Abel in front of him.
The other man still had his arms crossed, showing no intention of launching a sneak attack, and didn't even bother to look at the ringing communicator.
Clack.
Kuzan answered the call.
"This is Kuzan."
On the other end of the line, there was a long silence.
"Bring him to Headquarters."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku's voice came through the Den Den Mushi.
Kuzan hung up the Den Den Mushi and thrust his hand back into his pocket, a hard-to-detect gravity appearing in his lazy gaze.
"Let's go, guest from the Foundation."
Kuzan stepped aside, opening a path toward the Headquarters building.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku wants to meet you and, while he's at it, chat about that... Foundation thing."
Abel gave a cold snort and casually brushed off non-existent dust from his shoulder.
"Lead the way, native."
Abel set off, his heavy combat boots thudding against the wet stone slabs with a dull sound.
The surrounding Marine soldiers instinctively backed away to either side, their eyes filled with awe and fear.
A monster who could go toe-to-toe with an Admiral and regenerate a severed limb.
No one wanted to court disaster at a time like this...
New World, Dressrosa.
King's Plateau, the Royal Palace.
By the luxurious swimming pool, Doflamingo was lying on a beach chair, swirling a glass of crimson wine in his hand.
"Young Master!"
Trebol, sniffing back snot, shuffled over in his slimy robes, a fawning yet nervous smile on his face.
"Has news come from Vergo's side? Was that foolhardy fellow caught?"
Doflamingo casually flicked away the glass shards from his hand and stood up with a dark expression.
"Not yet."
"However..."
Just as he spoke.
An urgent and unstable roar of propellers came from the sky.
Whoosh—!
A dark shadow plummeted crookedly out of the clouds, trailing thick black smoke, heading straight for the palace gardens.
Boom!
A loud crash sent dust flying into the air.
The meticulously manicured bushes were smashed to bits, and the once-level lawn was plowed into a deep trench.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
In the smoke and dust, Buffalo crawled out miserably.
His signature hairstyle was in shambles, and his body was covered in lacerations; most terrifyingly, a large chunk of flesh was missing from his left leg, exposing the bone.
And on his back, Baby 5 was deathly pale, already unconscious.
Her arm was twisted at a bizarre angle, clearly having suffered a heavy blow.
"Young... Young Master..."
Buffalo, ignoring the searing pain in his body, scrambled to Doflamingo's feet and pressed his head deep into the ground.
His body wouldn't stop trembling.
Doflamingo looked down at the shivering Buffalo at his feet.
That usually grinning face was now etched with terror, snot and tears mixing with blood to smear the ground.
Baby 5 lay on a nearby stretcher, unconscious, her left arm a bizarre purplish-black—the mark of being brutally broken by some blunt instrument.
The veins on Doflamingo's temples throbbed violently.
Beneath his sunglasses, his eyes flickered with a predatory, murderous light.
Doflamingo walked over to the stretcher, step by step, in his signature pointed leather shoes.
Baby 5 remained unconscious, her once pretty face now as white as paper, her breathing as faint as a candle in the wind.
Doflamingo didn't speak.
His sunglasses hid his eyes, but the veins bulging on his temples were like writhing earthworms, pulsing madly against his pale skin.
Crack.
The marble floor tiles beneath his feet shattered without warning, fine cracks spreading outward like a spiderweb.
"Who did it?"
Three brief words were squeezed out from between Doflamingo's teeth.
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried a bone-chilling coldness that caused the surrounding temperature to drop to freezing in an instant.
Buffalo lay on the ground, his whole body shaking like a leaf.
He knew the Young Master too well.
This kind of calm was often the prelude to a destructive storm.
"Speak."
Doflamingo's voice was very soft.
But the Conqueror's Haki beneath his feet was like a physical sledgehammer, slamming hard against Buffalo's chest.
Buffalo pressed his head firmly against the ground, cold sweat instantly soaking the stone slab beneath him.
"It was... it was a monster..."
Buffalo's teeth were chattering, making a clattering sound.
"Iron Fang Island... is gone."
"Everyone turned into monsters... living dead... biting anyone they saw..."
Beneath his sunglasses, Doflamingo's brow furrowed slightly.
Living dead?
That waste Moria who only knows how to play with shadows?
"Beheyehehe... Doffy, could it be that Moria fellow is up to something?"
Trebol sniffled that disgusting trail of snot and leaned in toward Doflamingo with a lewd smile.
"No! It wasn't Moria!"
Buffalo suddenly looked up, his eyes full of terror.
"Those living dead could move in the sunlight too! The one controlling them was a freak wearing red clothes."
"Baby 5 was taken down by a living corpse in a single move."