The reports spread before him were meticulous to the point of obsession—dense tables, projections, margin notes from analysts, and pages of recommendations stacked thick enough to make your scalp prickle just looking at them.
This wasn't something thrown together overnight. The World Government had been preparing for Rogers Darren's North Blue Fleet for a long time.
"Well, well. What a surprise…"
Doflamingo let out a low chuckle as he flipped through the pages, the lenses of his sunglasses catching lamplight in quick, shifting flashes.
He tossed Stussy a casual glance. She didn't so much as blink—still wearing that bewitching little smile, perfectly composed, perfectly unreadable.
Tch. That duplicitous woman. A born actress.
Doflamingo's grin widened, sharper at the edges.
"So even you old geezers are scared of that 'invincible' fleet after all," he drawled, lifting his head to stare at the Gorosei with open mockery.
Saint Saturn's response was a cold sneer.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Doflamingo. The North Blue Fleet is far from invincible."
He tapped the file as if it were a verdict.
"The Flying Battleships have a glaring weakness. They have strategic reach, yes—but our scientists have analyzed their speed. It's surprisingly sluggish."
"The fleet's threat to the Government isn't raw mobility, and it isn't just overwhelming firepower." Saturn raised a finger and pointed upward, toward the unseen sky beyond stone and steel. "It's stealth."
"The timing and location of their strikes are unpredictable. That uncertainty is the core of their deterrence."
Doflamingo's lips curled. "So what?"
Saint Warcury answered calmly, as if he were indulging a child.
"No need to rush. We spent considerable time and effort assembling this analysis. Naturally, we prepared accordingly."
His eyes narrowed, glinting under the oil lamps.
"One thing this report makes clear is that Rogers Darren's ambition didn't erupt overnight. It festered for years."
"From the beginning, he manipulated North Blue tax revenue and strangled the region's economic lifeline into his own hands. He used that wealth to cultivate his forces. In recruitment, he focused on the young—shaping them from the start. And he funneled five times the standard Marine military budget into building loyalty that belonged to him alone."
Warcury's voice didn't rise, but the implication did.
"The more we dissect him, the clearer it becomes. His obsession with cultivating a personal military force goes beyond mere hunger for power."
His gaze turned strange, as if the thought itself disturbed him.
"It's almost as if…"
Saint Peter, golden-haired and cold, finished the sentence without blinking.
"—he expected war with the Government long ago, and has been preparing for it for years."
At that, Doflamingo and Stussy traded a glance so quick it might as well have been a twitch—eyes flickering, then still.
Saint Saturn continued, tone turning sharper.
"The North Blue Fleet's tactical command structure is simple. Clear. Hierarchical."
"And that is precisely the problem." His finger traced an invisible line down the air. "Their entire command core hinges on one man: 'Thunder' Momonga."
"Even their energy supply," Saturn added, "is tied to Momonga."
A quiet, unanimous smile spread across the Gorosei—thin, identical, and wrong.
"Which means we don't need to destroy the fleet itself," Saturn said. "We only need to remove the core."
"Kill Momonga—the fleet's tactical commander and power source—and the North Blue Fleet collapses on its own."
The chamber seemed to chill as the words settled, a murderous intent sinking into the air like fog.
Doflamingo clicked his tongue and laughed under his breath.
"Easier said than done." His tone was openly mocking. "That man has the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. Lightning speed. Even you old geezers would have trouble pinning him down."
The Gorosei's brows tightened in unison.
This brat's attitude was insufferable.
Stussy stepped forward, her voice smooth and cold.
"Excellency Doflamingo, if the Gorosei have reached this conclusion, then contingency measures have already been prepared."
Doflamingo's head tilted.
"Stussy," he said softly, "you haven't earned the right to lecture me, have you?"
His fingers curled—subtle, almost lazy.
Something razor-thin seemed to lash through the air, accompanied by a faint, needle-screeching sound.
Stussy's smile sharpened at the corners. Fangs flashed. A crimson glint rose in her eyes.
Their gazes collided, and the space between them felt suddenly volatile—like sparks waiting for oil.
A clash of wills.
"Enough."
Saint Saturn's hoarse voice cut through it like a blade.
Eerie black flames unfurled from his gnarled hands, casting a wavering shadow up his face.
"Now is not the time for infighting. Whatever grudges you carry must be set aside."
"As core members of the Government, your actions serve one thing only: the Government's interests."
Doflamingo's chuckle returned, softer now. His fingers relaxed, the threat receding as quickly as it had formed.
"Fine," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "I'll give you old geezers a little face."
Stussy stepped back, head lowered.
"As you command, Excellencies."
Saint Saturn nodded once, then turned his gaze back to Doflamingo.
"This inauguration ceremony is the perfect opportunity."
"During the ceremony, Saint Garling will speak. He will share his reflections—then, with representatives from all Member States present, he will announce his first mission as Commander of the Knights of God."
His eyes narrowed, and the chamber's air seemed to tighten around the words.
"He will proclaim to the world a full-scale extermination campaign against Rogers Darren and the North Blue Fleet."
Doflamingo's expression shifted—light and shadow sliding over his face beneath those dark lenses.
Stussy's gaze sharpened as well, her composure tightening by a fraction.
"You mean…" Doflamingo said slowly.
"Exactly," the Gorosei replied, their faint smiles perfectly aligned.
"This is the final ultimatum."
"And…"
Their voices seemed to sink into the stone itself.
"—a declaration of total war!"
To be continued...