"What... what's going on?"
Makuro stared at the hole in Damon's clothes, pierced by the spear tip. What was revealed wasn't human skin, but rather the scales of some kind of predator.
Makuro had never seen a dragon before, so he couldn't immediately identify the origin of the scales.
Damon glanced down at the scale that had been struck; only a white mark remained. He thought to himself:
"I never expected my defense to improve so much after the Dragon Scales were stacked with Iron Body and the Dragon's Roar passive."
"My current state is comparable to activating Armament Haki, isn't it?"
"If I ever actually learn Armament Haki..."
Seeing Makuro thrust his spear again, Damon immediately swung his sword to meet the attack.
The two sides exchanged blows, the sounds of clashing steel filling the shipyard.
After Garo, wielding his Goldfish Swordsmanship, severely wounded Hina with a single strike, he saw that Makuro was struggling to subdue the black-haired boy. Disregarding any mercy for Hina, he rushed to assist his leader.
He circled behind Damon and exchanged a grim smile with Makuro.
The two had been partners for years and needed no words.
Makuro shouted, his spear flashing in a series of afterimages to distract Damon.
Even though the dragon bloodline provided formidable defense, it could not completely protect areas like the eyes. Once the spear tip pierced the eyes, it could directly damage Damon's brain.
Taking advantage of this, Garo, like a venomous snake waiting for its chance, suddenly darted forward, his sword silently approaching the back of Damon's head.
Clearly, while Garo was fighting Hina, he had been paying attention and noticed Damon's unnatural toughness. To ensure his strike landed, he aimed for the head.
Pirate crews that make a name for themselves on the Grand Line are not ordinary, even if they are just rank-and-file members.
However, neither of them noticed one thing.
From the moment Damon killed the two fish-men who initially ambushed him, he had never used his full strength!
Damon gripped the hilt with both hands, raised the blade above his head, and stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. The pendant at his waist swayed, its ruby shimmering with a burning light.
"Fifth Form! Flame Tiger!"
Scorching flames rose from beneath Damon's feet, coiling around his body like a fiery python.
Heat waves rolled out, distorting the air.
The hot wind made Damon's bangs flutter, and his dark eyes reflected the raging fire.
He looked like a ruthless, fiery king, capable of inflicting devastating blows on his enemies when enraged.
Feeling the heat wave, even the two fish-men attacking from both sides slowed their pace instinctively.
Fish-men dislike fire, not just by nature, but due to an instinctive resistance.
Under the command of the Flame King, the raging fire—like a tiger unleashed from its cage—pounced on Garo as he attacked from behind.
Before the creature could even let out a scream, it was burned to a crisp.
Emboldened, the Flame Tiger charged at Makuro next.
The surrounding temperature rose sharply, making it difficult to breathe as the oxygen was rapidly consumed.
Makuro felt extremely dehydrated—a lethal sign for a fish-man.
"Fight!"
Makuro gritted his teeth and thrust his spear forward with all his might.
This was not a heroic act; it was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot—utterly ridiculous.
The spear scattered a few sparks, but against the ferocious Flame Tiger at the height of its power, it only caused a minor scratch.
"Pfft!"
Makuro followed in his companion's footsteps, collapsing to the ground charred black, a wisp of smoke rising from his body.
Damon slowly sheathed his sword, then belatedly slapped his forehead in surprise:
"Oh no, I forgot to hold back!"
"Could this guy be dead?"
Upon hearing this, Makuro's lips twitched violently, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
Damon squatted down and checked the pirate's pulse.
Despite being severely injured and barely breathing, Makuro managed to stay alive thanks to a physique superior to ordinary fish-men.
Seeing his accomplices fall, and his subordinates being taken down by Drake and the others, Tans the Karate Master lost his composure. He revealed a fatal flaw, which Smoker accurately seized upon.
White smoke swirled around Tans' arms, and Smoker appeared behind him. Before Smoker could pin him down, Hina—ignoring her injuries—delivered several whip kicks, making Tans' face swell until he was barely recognizable.
"Hiss!"
Seeing the state of Tans' face, Smoker gasped.
"Women are truly terrifying creatures."
Smoker thought he was speaking softly enough.
To his surprise, Hina stopped in her tracks and turned around abruptly.
"Smoker, say that again if you dare?"
Smoker gave an awkward smile. What else could he say?
When Damon arrived, Smoker witnessed the multifaceted nature of women.
Hina pulled Damon into a tight embrace, letting him experience her "compassionate heart."
"My little man is the best. He came to my aid the moment he saw I was injured."
Smoker opened his mouth, but in the end, it only turned into a sigh.
They were so caught up in the victory that they didn't notice a group of journalists in the crowd quickly snapping photos.
One reporter slipped into a quiet alley and took out a Transponder Snail:
"Please report to the Young Master that the plan has been successful."
"Checkmate!"
A large, broad hand gripped a black knight, capturing the white king on the chessboard.
Doflamingo withdrew his hand, stretched his fingers, then lay back on the sofa and crossed his legs. He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, smiling at the person opposite him.
"Morgans, it seems I've won this round."
The figure opposite him was in the form of an albatross, wearing a top hat with a feather, a blue shirt, and a black cape.
Seemingly annoyed by his defeat, the man's feathers were slightly disheveled.
The New World is a place where order and chaos coexist. Warfare has spawned a multitude of shady businesses, creating countless arms dealers in the underworld.
Only six people stand out among them: the Six Kings of the Underworld, controlling currency, assassins, entertainment, intelligence, goods, and transportation.
Morgans, president of the World Economic News Paper, is one of them.
Morgans, displeased, swept the chess pieces off the board. His sharp eyes fixed on Doflamingo.
"Joker, you didn't invite me here just to make fun of me, did you?"
"Of course not," Doflamingo replied with a mocking smile. "Look how serious you are. Can't we take a joke after all these years?"
Morgans rolled his eyes and got up to leave.
Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder, and Doflamingo's warm breath reached his ear.
"I'd like to know the routes used to transport the Heavenly Gold this year."
The 170 member states of the World Government are required to pay a portion of their wealth to the Celestial Dragons every year—the Heavenly Gold.
While the Navy escorts the fleets, the logistics are often handled by each member state individually. To avoid pirates, these routes are top-secret.
But Morgans, the head of intelligence, was an exception.
No one knows what they discussed during that hour.
After Morgans flew away, Trebol emerged from the shadows.
"Young Master, our messengers report that Zephyr's squad has taken the bait."
Doflamingo burst into laughter.
"I'm looking forward to seeing Spandam's expression when he hears this news."
Human sorrows and joys are not interlinked.
After Damon and his companions defeated the leaders, the remaining fish-men confessed to their crimes. They revealed the location of the hidden slaves: near the terminal station of the Sea Train in Water Seven.
Franky and Iceburg couldn't believe it, but they insisted on following the group to the dock near Blue Station.
A group of journalists followed them like cats smelling fish.
Ten fish-men remained at the dock, using the movement of goods as a cover for the human slaves inside the containers.
They were quickly subdued.
The group arrived at the containers and lifted the curtains.
Dozens of women were inside, shielding their eyes from the light. They ranged from young and pure to mature and charming.
The crowd gasped in astonishment.
Franky and Iceburg looked grim.
This dock was owned by Tom Shipbuilding Company. These fish-men were utterly despicable for using their home for such a crime.