A/N: WAY TOO LATE FOR AN UPDATE BUT TO BE HONEST I AM GIVING MY FINAL EXAMS FOR MED SCHOOL NOW. FEELS UNREAL AND TOUGHEST EVER LETS KEEP GOING THO AFTER A LONG TIME THIS FINALLY GETS A BIT REAL.( only a short one this time). Will increase updates if feedback is good.

Dressrosa was already dead. The people just didn't know it yet.

I stood in the middle of the carnage, fists clenched, jaw locked so tight I thought my teeth might crack. Blood pooled between the cracks in the cobblestone, the scent thick in the humid air. The city burned, smoke rising like funeral pyres, and in the distance—always in the distance—Doflamingo laughed.

I had lost.

Again.

The realization curdled like bile in my throat. No matter how strong I was, no matter how much muscle I had built, how fast I had become—I was still a pawn on his board.

And that? That wasn't something I could stomach.

FLASHBACK

Monet had watched me with an amused smile, wings folded, her gaze cool as if she had already won.

"Really, now?" she mused, tilting her head. "You're strong, but you're not dangerous."

The insult barely had time to register before she moved.

Her palm slammed against my chest, and a surge of biting cold swallowed me whole. My breath hitched as ice spiked across my limbs, locking me in place mid-motion. My instincts screamed, muscles tensing to break free—but they wouldn't move.

Shit.

I'd NEVER fought Logia users before. BUT I knew better than to waste time with brute force. My fingers twitched as I shifted my stance—no, I tried to. But Monet's ice wasn't just freezing my body; it was sapping my speed, my momentum. My breath came sharp as the temperature plummeted, seeping into my bones.

Move, damn it.

Monet took a step forward, slow and measured, as if savoring the moment.

"You're physically stronger than Vergo," she admitted, her fingers tapping against her chin. "Faster, too. But you lack Haki." Her eyes flickered with something akin to pity. "That's why you can't win."

She was right.

And that pissed me off more than anything.

With a sharp inhale, I forced my muscles to move. I had spent a year on an island of beasts—I didn't need Haki to survive. I had adapted. I focused on my breathing, channeling every ounce of strength into my legs.

Geppo.

The ice cracked. A fissure spiderwebbed from beneath my feet as I launched myself backward, the sheer force of my movement shattering the frozen hold. Monet's eyes widened—she had underestimated me.

Big mistake.

I twisted midair, shifting into Soru before my feet even touched the ground. The moment they did, I was gone. My body blurred as I shot forward, my fist cocked back.

Monet barely had time to react before I was on her. My knuckles drove straight into her stomach. A solid hit. Direct.

Nothing.

No impact. No damage. Just cold.

My frustration barely had time to register before she exhaled, and a gust of frost erupted point-blank into my chest. I gritted my teeth, twisting into Kami-e to soften the impact, but the sheer force still sent me skidding back.

"You don't get it," she sighed, brushing off the nonexistent dust from her coat. "Without Haki, you can't touch me."

My hands curled into fists, breath coming out ragged. She wasn't wrong. Every strike I landed was like punching mist. I had fought harder battles—I had taken down beasts twice my size—but against her? I might as well have been swinging at air.

I wasn't weak.

But right now, I sure as hell felt like it.

Monet flexed her fingers. "You should've just kept quiet."

I spat blood onto the ice. "Yeah?" I exhaled, forcing my breathing into control. "You should've killed me when you had the chance."

Then I was gone.

She barely had time to blink before I was behind her. My Rankyaku tore through the air, an arc of compressed wind ripping toward her. Monet moved to dodge—too slow. The gust shredded through her wing, forcing her into a stumble.

Not enough.

Before she could react, I twisted into Tekkai, turning my entire body into a battering ram as I drove my knee into her ribs. It connected—barely.

She winced. A small crack in her mask of control.

But it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

So I ran.

Towards the Carnage.

The king's sword came down, slicing through flesh.

Another body fell. Another innocent life lost.

I moved. Soru propelled me forward, intercepting the next strike. My forearm crashed against the flat of the blade, stopping it cold. The force rattled through my bones, but I held firm.

"Stop!" I snarled. "He's controlling you!"

His sword trembled, his arm fighting against itself. For a single moment, I saw clarity break through his expression—fear, horror—before it was crushed. The strings tightened.

A slashing pain ripped across my shoulder as a soldier's blade tore through skin. I hissed, barely avoiding the next strike as another came from behind.

Shit.

They weren't going to stop.

Geppo.

I vanished upward, boots slamming against the air as I launched above them. They looked up, momentarily stunned. I twisted midair, gathering momentum.

Then I dropped.

Rankyaku Hakurai.

A storm of compressed wind blades rained down, carving through the stone streets, slicing weapons from hands, cutting deep enough to disable without killing. The soldiers collapsed, groaning, their weapons shattered.

I landed in the center of them.

I ducked low, pivoting into a sweeping kick that sent two of them to the ground. My instincts took over. Rankyaku flashed as I spun, cutting down the soldiers surrounding me. I didn't want to kill them, but they were coming hard.

A hand shot out to grab me—I twisted, gripping their wrist and dislocating their elbow in one quick motion. A knee to the gut sent them sprawling. My body moved on its own, trained reflexes taking over as I cut through the chaos.

More soldiers fell. More blood hit the ground. I was fighting a losing battle, but I didn't care.

I turned back to the king—just in time to see the strings tightening again.

"Damn it!" My voice cracked as I roared, "He's using strings—you're all being controlled! He's behind this!"

The civilians didn't hear me. But the soldiers did.

And Doflamingo definitely did.

That's when I felt it.

The air shifted.

It was like the world itself recognized something greater had entered the scene. A sudden weight pressed down over everything. My breathing stilled. The cobblestone beneath my feet cracked with an eerie, silent pressure.

Then—

A slow, amused chuckle.

A shadow stretched long over the ruined streets.

Doflamingo.

He strolled toward me, hands in his pockets, that damn grin carved across his face. The pink feathers of his coat fluttered in the night breeze, catching the glow of the nearby fires. His sunglasses gleamed, hiding his eyes, but I could feel them. Watching. Mocking.

"You really don't know when to quit, huh?"

His voice was lazy, a drawl filled with amusement. Like this was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum.

I glared up at him, chest heaving. He was right here. He was right in front of me.

I could kill him.

I would kill him.

I took a step forward.

That's when the world shook.

A pressure unlike anything I had ever felt crashed down on me. It wasn't physical—it was raw will, invisible and suffocating. The air hummed with it, like an electric current crawling over my skin.

My vision blurred. My head pounded.

All around me, civilians collapsed. Soldiers dropped to their knees, eyes rolling back into their skulls. Some began convulsing, unconscious before they hit the ground. Even the flames in the burning streets seemed to flicker under the weight of his presence.

Conqueror's Haki.

I gritted my teeth, muscles screaming under the pressure. I forced my legs to stay steady, my spine to stay straight. I refused to fall.

Doflamingo cocked his head, as if evaluating me. His smile widened. "Oh? Still standing? Kukuku." He pushed his sunglasses down slightly, just enough for me to see the flicker of curiosity behind them.

"Not bad, not bad," he mused, "but it's painful to watch. You're like a wild dog, snapping your teeth, thinking you can bite the leash off."

His fingers twitched. The strings glinted in the firelight, barely visible.

"You're strong," he admitted, voice light. "Faster than Vergo. Tougher than most. But…" His grin stretched wider. "You don't matter."

My stomach twisted.

I clenched my fists, rage bubbling in my chest. My vision tunneled in on him, everything else fading into the background. My body screamed for me to move—to lunge, to rip him apart, to do something.

I didn't notice the way my knuckles darkened. Didn't see the black creeping across my fingers.

I just knew one thing.

I wasn't running this time.