CHAPTER 486: CHAPTER 486

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*****

"THOSE BACKSTABBING BASTARDS!"

Kaido’s roar cracked across the stormy sea like thunder, a guttural explosion of fury that sent a shudder through the timbers of the battered galleon upon which he now stood. The crushed Denden Mushi exploded against the deck, its shattered shell skittering across the blood-stained planks as stunned subordinates looked on in silence.

The once-mighty Beast Pirates’ fleet, over two dozen ships strong, was now a broken armada, limping through the seas with barely half a dozen battered vessels. Smoke trailed in the wake of some, hulls split, sails shredded. The main flagship—Kaido’s pride—had been obliterated in the chaos of the battle. What remained was a brutal reminder of the cost of hubris.

But Kaido’s rage didn’t stem from defeat alone. It was what came after that soured his blood.

The report he had just received—through the dying breath of one of his informants—confirmed what his instincts had begun to whisper: a Marine admiral had arrived. A massive force, descending like wolves onto the carcass of a battle. Too perfectly timed. Too precise.

Kaido’s massive frame loomed over the deck like a force of nature. He clenched his fist, the gourd he held crushed in an instant, its sake spilling over his forearm. The liquid stung as it soaked into the partially healed burn scar—a scar not from the awakened ability of Doflamingo’s flame fruit but from the opponent’s attack infused with Conqueror’s Haki.

Even with the awakening of his Mythical Zoan and mastery of his form, Doflamingo’s Conqueror’s Haki could wound him. A reminder of what the Marine hero had once screamed at him through shining teeth while pummeling him to the ground.

"No matter how strong or special your devil fruit is—Haki rules all."

The sting grounded him—but only for a moment. His eyes, burning with a feral light, swept over his inner circle. They looked pitiful.

All except King, who stood tall, impassive, the black flames of his race flickering faintly behind the cold of his gaze. Queen, however, looked like a joke—his arm bound in a sling, cybernetics sparking erratically. His once flamboyant frame now slumped in exhaustion and pain.

Kaido’s voice rolled like distant thunder, cold and sharp.

"Just a bunch of corpses who haven’t realized they’re dead yet... You call that a crew?"

The wind was heavy with salt, smoke, and shame.

Ryuji, one of the newly appointed core cadres, clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He wanted to scream—millions of zombies, they’d fought. A literal sea of the undead, swarming over their ships like locusts. And then Donquixote’s forces had descended like vipers. Even that monstrous Colossus Zombie, the one Kaido had locked blades with, had turned its rage on them the moment Moria turned his attention on them while Kaido engaged with Doflamingo.

If Kaido hadn’t withdrawn—if Doflamingo hadn’t suddenly pulled back—none of them would have walked away. But Ryuji kept his mouth shut. He knew better. Kaido’s wrath did not forgive reason.

Kaido turned, the wind tugging at his tattered cape as he addressed the one man he trusted to speak without flinching.

"King. Tell me." His voice had dropped, more dangerous than when it thundered. "Was this all a trap?" King remained unmoved, expression carved from granite.

"It’s possible, Kaido-sama. The timing was... too precise. The alliance offer from the World Government. The intercepted broadcasts. Gecko Moria. The rumors of Marine outposts falling to you—rumors that we didn’t start. And then Donquixote..."

He paused.

"But I doubt Doflamingo’s involvement with the World Government. They’ve burned each other too deeply. He’s unpredictable—yes—but loyal to no one but himself. If this had been the work of the Bloodseal Pirates and the World Government?" He nodded slowly. "Then I’d believe it without question."

Kaido grunted. His mind raced. Pieces moved. The noose tightened.

Then, Queen—still in pain, still wrapped in bandages, but forever irreverent—let out a huff and lit a cigarette, wincing as he fumbled with the flame.

"You think too much of that man’s sanity," he muttered, exhaling smoke. "That pink-feathered freak? That’s not a man you can predict. One day he’s sitting in the Holy Land sipping tea with the Celestial Dragons, the next he’s setting the place on fire just to watch them burn."

He offered the cigarette to King, who ignored him. Queen sighed.

"I told you not to trust the world government when it comes to dealing with another of their own kind, especially someone like Doflamingo. The bastard offered me a seat at his table back in the day before all this. Good thing I turned him down—my heart’s too delicate for that kind of madness."

Kaido ignored Queen’s ramblings, but the seed of doubt had already burrowed deep. He turned back to the sea, the sky brooding with storm clouds overhead. In his mind, the image of a web formed—strands tied to Moria, to Doflamingo, to the World Government. The more he thought, the tighter the snare felt around his throat, a plan masterfully executed to bring him out of Wano.

He crushed the rail beneath his palm, splinters exploding.

"If the world thinks I’m cornered..." he growled, "...then let them see what a dragon does when caged."

Thunder cracked across the sky. And in Kaido’s eyes—beneath the fury, the suspicion, the wrath—there was something more dangerous still.

"Do we know where that senile bastard Whitebeard is...?" Kaido’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder as he loomed near the helm of the fractured ship. "The last thing I want is to be intercepted before we reach Wano. We were hasty... leaving our home completely unguarded."

His frustration was not just audible—it was palpable, crackling in the air like a coiled storm waiting to strike. Gone was the reckless tyrant who once hurled himself into Marine fortresses, believing himself unkillable. That Kaido—the drunken warlord who courted death like a lover—was dead.

What remained now was something far more dangerous. A man awakened. He stood silently for a moment, staring into the horizon, the sea a blackened scar beneath the bleeding sky. His fingers curled into fists at his side, the scar on his forearm—a remnant from his most recent clash with Doflamingo—and the numerous scars on his body, the reminders he gained from his fatal clash with Whitebeard—still aching faintly. Not from pain, but as a lesson.

Back then, he had believed in the invincibility granted by his Mythical Zoan fruit, that the power of the Azure Dragon alone made him a god among men. But the battle with Whitebeard had stripped him bare, beaten him to the brink of death. It was in that crucible of annihilation that he’d awakened—not just the fruit’s true power, but a clarity that had long eluded him.

"I wasn’t unkillable back then," he thought darkly. "The World Government simply kept me alive... a tool. A piece too dangerous to break, but too valuable to discard. They feared what my death would expose."

He clenched his jaw. No more.

He had learned the truth—the will within the Devil Fruits, the twisted echoes of their original wielders, the price of taming such power. For too long, he had leaned on the strength of the fruit and neglected the Oni blood that roared through his veins. He was strength itself. The fruit was merely a crown—not the throne.

Kaido turned sharply, his presence drawing the eyes of every subordinate on deck. The beast was wounded, yes—but not broken. And now, he was watching. Thinking.

"No sightings of Whitebeard, Kaido-sama," King reported, his tone level, unflinching. "He’s deep in his own territory, chasing after one of the Shichibukai. Apparently, one of them dealt a serious blow to his pride... some game of cat and mouse. We’ve confirmed that a few of his division commanders—his so-called sons—are dead."

Even King couldn’t keep the edge of surprise from his voice.

"Whoever that Shichibukai is... they killed Whitebeard’s family. And lived to brag about it."

There was a beat of silence. Then—

"WORORORORO—!"

Kaido’s laughter erupted like an explosion, rolling over the waves and into the wind. It echoed through the splintered mast like a war drum, his earlier frustration melting into savage amusement.

"Good! That senile relic deserves it!" he bellowed. "How long has he sat on that fading throne, clinging to the past like some old ghost? I want to meet the lunatic who dared provoke him—I’d shake their hand!"

He turned, the grin splitting his face wide, fangs gleaming under the blood-red sky.

"Maybe I’ll invite them to join our crew! Hah! We could use someone with that kind of madness."

King didn’t answer immediately. He was long accustomed to Kaido’s violent mood swings, the pendulum that swung from fury to euphoria in a heartbeat. He stood silently, waiting—knowing the next question would come just as fast.

Yet beneath the levity, King too was thinking. This battle had cost them dearly. The Beast Pirates, once a symbol of unstoppable force, were bruised and bleeding—caught between the eyes of the World Government, the wrath of Whitebeard, and the silent rise of new, unpredictable forces. Their enemies grew sharper in the shadows. The sea had changed.

And Kaido, though still unbending, had changed with it.

As the last remnants of dusk slipped beneath the horizon, Kaido turned his gaze skyward. The heavens above Wano waited—dark, smoldering, vulnerable. But for the first time in years, he didn’t feel invincible. He felt aware. Ready. And that made him more terrifying than ever.

****

Aboard the flagship of the Donquixote Pirates—Anne’s Grace—the sea was calm, but the scent of war still clung to the wind. Unlike the shattered remnants of the Beast Pirates’ armada, Doflamingo’s fleet returned largely intact, sailing in a disciplined wedge formation as they carved a silent path back toward Dressrosa.

On the sun-drenched deck, Doflamingo lay reclined on an opulent chaise lounge, shirt open, his signature pink feathered coat draped loosely over the back. A damp towel veiled his face from the blistering sun, beads of water glistening on his chest, half from sweat, half from the cooled cloth.

Beside him, on a small table, sat a tray with half-melted ice, a wine glass untouched, and a transponder snail twitching insistently.

Peri... Peri... Peri...!

The Den Den Mushi kept ringing. The crew watched in anxious silence. None dared approach. Their captain had just fought a living calamity. If he wanted to ignore a call, they would sooner leap into the sea than suggest otherwise.

But Doflamingo had been listening the whole time. He knew who was calling.

There was only one man persistent enough to keep ringing until he picked up—Rosinante.

Doflamingo exhaled heavily. "Persistent little bastard," he muttered under the towel before reaching lazily to answer.

Click.

"Moshi moshi! Am I speaking to the Dragon Slayer—Doflamingo-sama?" came the mischievous, singsong voice from the other end, thick with sarcasm. A vein visibly popped on Doffy’s forehead under the towel.

Of course. He should’ve known. Not only had Rosinante heard about the outcome—he was enjoying every second of it.

"...Ross," Doflamingo grunted, dragging the name like a lead weight.

"You sound tired," Rosinante chuckled. "Didn’t quite go as planned, huh? So, tell me—has the mighty Kaido really awakened his fruit... like little Shyarly predicted?"

The question cut deeper than Doflamingo expected. He slowly pulled the towel from his face, revealing his signature grin—but it was tight, bitter, and laced with frustration.

"...Yes," he admitted. "At first, I couldn’t believe it. But that form... the hybrid state, the aura, the regeneration... It matches everything you told me about awakened Zoans. That monster’s not just a dragon anymore. He’s something else."

There was a pause on the other end. Then came the teasing voice again, smug as ever.

"So admit it, Doffy... You were hasty. You should’ve listened to your wise little brother."

Doflamingo clenched his teeth.

"If he hadn’t awakened, I would’ve had him. I’m sure of it—"

Rosinante cut him off, his voice suddenly colder.

"Listen to me, brother. Own it. When you’ve been bested, admit it. Pride doesn’t shield you from the truth—it blinds you to it. That’s how Kaido nearly got himself killed—believing he was untouchable. Don’t make the same mistake."

The words struck hard.

Doflamingo sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees, the towel slipping from his shoulders.

He wasn’t used to being lectured. Especially not by Rosinante. But he also wasn’t used to losing.

"...You’re right," he said at last, the grin slipping into a more thoughtful smirk. "I was hasty. I underestimated what an awakened Kaido meant. I should’ve waited... planned better. Hell, maybe if you were there, we could’ve done it together."

Rosinante chuckled. "Oh, please. Remind me who said, and I quote—’I’ll sail into the eye of the storm myself and return with Kaido’s head.’" He dropped into a flawless imitation of Doflamingo’s theatrical bellow. "’None shall interfere! I am the storm that will shake the New World to its core!’"

The sound of Doflamingo groaning in embarrassment was audible.

"...Don’t ever do my voice again."

"This is a lesson, Doffy." Rosinante’s voice softened, serious now. "Don’t underestimate your enemies. They grow too—just like us. You can’t afford mistakes anymore. Not at the level we’re playing at."

Silence fell for a moment, only the creak of sails and the distant cry of seabirds filling the gap. Then Doflamingo leaned back again, laying his head against the chair with a sigh.

"...So, why exactly did you grace me with this call? I assume it’s not entirely to rub salt in my wounds."

A smirk curled across Doflamingo’s lips as he sank deeper into his chair. The sun beat down mercilessly over the Anne’s Grace, but the lazy breeze rolling over the sea carried a dark undertone—a stillness before the storm. Rosinante’s voice drifted from the transponder snail again, soft but with that edge of calculated urgency only Doflamingo could decipher.

"Of course not. I didn’t call just to twist the knife, brother. I’ve got news. And it might just change everything."

Doflamingo cocked an eyebrow.

"Go on."

"I just heard from Señor. The one we’ve been waiting for... he’s finally arrived at Dressrosa. We can begin."

A pause. Rosinante’s tone dipped into something almost jubilant.

"We can finally start work on our own ancient weapon, Doffy. But what we lack most now... is time."

Doflamingo chuckled darkly. "Oh? You mean Einstein?"

He tilted his head back, exposing his throat to the sun, letting the heat bake into his skin.

"I was wondering when that eccentric genius would crawl out of the depths to keep his promise to you.. Wolf hasn’t left the boy’s side since he arrived at Green Bit.It seemss Vegapunk kept his word after all. So, tellme,e Ross...Whatt do you propose?"

They had already charted the broad strokes of this operation years ago—to craft a modern answer to the legendary Pluton, a war machine that could rival even the gods. The blueprints from Tom, passed in secret before his death, were in their possession. But owning a map didn’t mean one had reached the destination. They’d barely gathered a fifth of the necessary resources, and materials were the least of their concerns.

The true problem was the power source.

Without it, their weapon would be a hollow shell—a mimicry of a forgotten terror. Einstein had theorized a core design based on primitive nuclear theory unearthed from ancient ruins that the Donquixote family had collected over the years—something that could awaken Pluton’s potential. But even in his brilliance, he had warned, Ten years, best case. Maybe more.

Ten years they didn’t have—unless the world’s gaze was pointed elsewhere.

"We need someone to seize the attention of the World Government, Doffy," Rosinante said calmly. "We need to step back. Let them believe we’re licking our wounds. We cannot provoke a reaction—not until we’re ready."

Doflamingo’s fingers drummed against the armrest. His pink coat shimmered in the sunlight as his mind danced through variables.

"Hmmm. You want the Marines to re-establish their so-called ’chaotic order’ in the New World?" he said, amused. "You remember how hard it was to drive them out last time, Ross. Are we just giving them a free pass to take it all back?"

"Times have changed, brother." Rosinante’s voice dropped, serious now. "It’s not the Marine’s greenhorn admirals leading the Vanguard this time. It’s Garp-san himself. This isn’t just a political reshuffling—it’s a crusade. But if we’re careful, we can use this to elevate Vergo within the Marines."

That made Doflamingo pause.

Ross continued, his voice sharper now, calculated. "This isn’t about territory anymore. It’s about longevity. The World Government hasn’t even revealed a fraction of its true power. They’ve had eight centuries to prepare for this era. You and I both know... they will not fall easily."

Doflamingo’s grin returned, but it was thinner now, more predatory.

"Even so, Ross... do you really think we can vanish from the spotlight without raising suspicion? After all we’ve done... our enemies won’t believe we’ve simply retreated."

"No," Ross admitted. "But they will believe in a new threat. One that commands attention. One that they know to fear."

There was a pause.

"Kaido."

Doflamingo’s eyebrows rose slightly. "You want to hand the title back to that drunkard?"

"Not hand it back. Crown him with spectacle," Ross said smoothly. "We let this battle be remembered not as your defeat—but as Kaido’s resurrection. Let the world believe he drove you back, that he survived an ambush, stood against the odds, and crushed an Emperor’s army. That the last open seat among the Yonko is now his again."

Doflamingo leaned forward, interest piqued. "Hmph. And who’s going to tell the world this grand tale?"

Rosinante’s laughter came like a blade through silk.

"Morgans. Who else?"

Of course. The news king himself, the one who has been the Donquixote family’s puppet for years now. Always hungry for drama, always willing to sell the lie that inspired the most fear. With the right story, the world would forget that Kaido had been nearly killed by Whitebeard. Instead, they’d remember him as the beast that broke an emperor’s advance.

"There are... other variables we didn’t account for," Ross added quietly. "New players. And the Grand Brawl isn’t as simple as we thought. Until we know all the hands on the table, we need to play ours close to the chest."

Doflamingo stood now, stretching slowly, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the deck. His grin widened, and his eyes glinted with that dangerous light that had once brought kingdoms to heel.

"So we become the architects of chaos... while Kaido dances like our puppet in the firelight."

Rosinante chuckled darkly.

"Let him roar and rage. Let the world believe he is the greatest threat walking. Meanwhile, we build our god in silence."

Doflamingo picked up his wine glass and raised it in the direction of the snail.

"To the greatest con ever pulled... and to the gods who will tremble before us when we rise."