CHAPTER 616: CHAPTER 135: I WANT TO JOIN THE SHICHIBUKAI

"Are you sure, Excellency? You’re the World Government’s representative here. I’m only a humble Vice Admiral," Darren said, feigning reluctance.

Tsuru said nothing. The Marines traded uneasy looks.

The official looked ready to cry. "Vice Admiral Darren, please—stop teasing me," he begged, face twisted in despair.

Darren sighed, throwing up his hands. "If you insist, Excellency, I’ll do my best."

"Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll contact the Gorosei."

The man exhaled like a condemned prisoner granted a stay. He bitterly regretted volunteering for this assignment. What had looked like a plum posting had turned to ruin—colleagues dead, and the blame poised to fall on him.

With shaking hands he produced an encrypted Den Den Mushi and dialed.

Purupuru...

After a few rings, a rasping elder’s voice—cool, condescending—came through.

"What is the status of the operation?"

"G–Gorosei!" The official knelt, trembling. "Doflamingo has gone mad! He flouted the Government’s authority and butchered our party."

"Fortunately, Vice Admiral Rogers Darren of Marine Headquarters arrived in time. I survived by a miracle."

"The situation is under control. Doflamingo has been subdued... We await Your Excellency’s judgment."

Silence held the line for a beat.

"Put Darren on."

Darren knew the voice at once.

The official bowed low and offered the receiver with both hands.

Darren took it with an easy smile. "Great and noble Saint Topman Warcury, Warrior God of Justice—Rogers Darren, reporting. I’m honored to receive your command again."

At Pangaea Castle, within the Chamber of Deliberation, the fragrance of green tea drifted through still air. The highest authorities of the World Government sat or stood with a quiet, godlike poise. On a low table before them, a golden Encrypted Den Den Mushi projected a clear image onto a pale wall: Darren, Doflamingo, Tsuru, the Marines.

Saint Topman Warcury reclined on a plush sofa, a faint smile touching his lips. His gaze slid to the unconscious Doflamingo. His voice was almost casual. "Darren, what’s Doflamingo’s condition?"

"We’ve subdued him, Your Excellency," Darren said. "He’s currently unconscious."

"What about the Heavenly Tribute?" Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the blond Warrior God of Agriculture, cut in, voice cold.

Darren shook his head. "Regretfully, we’ve found no trace. Our assessment is that Doflamingo hid it."

Frowns creased five ancient faces. Saint Jaygarcia Saturn—the white-bearded Warrior God of Science and Defense beneath a black flat cap—tapped his cane against the floor. His voice rasped. "Wake him."

"Yes, Your Excellency." Darren gestured.

Marines moved with practiced speed. Doflamingo stirred, pried his swollen lids apart, saw the Den Den Mushi on the deck—and understood. He wiped the blood from his mouth and let out a low, dark laugh.

"Heh heh heh... So it’s you five old fossils..."

Boom.

A Marine boot hammered the back of his head, driving his face into the boards. Stone splintered; grit flew. The brutality made everyone present flinch.

Doflamingo groaned, vision swimming, blood trailing from the corner of his lips.

"Damn you, Marines! I’ll slaughter you all!" he snarled, eyes burning red as he fixed on Darren. Killing intent rolled off him in waves, cold enough to bite.

Unmoved, Darren ground his heel on Doflamingo’s skull and leaned in, voice like ice. "Mind your tongue, Doflamingo."

"You’re addressing the Gorosei—the supreme authority of the World Government."

Blood bubbled in Doflamingo’s nose and mouth. He sneered anyway. "Those old men? Without the Heavenly Tribute, they’d grovel before me like dogs."

"Heh heh heh... Go on, kill me if you dare. I’d love to see you explain to the Holy Land why the Tribute vanished along with me."

"You’re asking for it!" Darren’s eyes flared. Steel hissed; his saber flashed toward Doflamingo’s neck with lethal speed.

Tsuru and the Marines gasped—too fast to stop.

"Enough." The voice from the receiver sliced the air.

Steel halted mid-arc; the gust it had raised died. A thin line of blood traced the back of Doflamingo’s neck.

Sweat prickled down spines. At this range, they could all see it—so close. One heartbeat later and the head would have rolled.

"Darren, you’ve done well. Release the brat for now," Saint Saturn said, studying the Vice Admiral’s projected figure. He let the moment stretch, then spoke again, slow and deliberate.

"Yes, Saint Saturn." Darren paused, then slid the blade away and lifted his foot from Doflamingo’s chest.

"Heh heh heh..." Doflamingo’s laughter sharpened, teeth stained red.

"Tell us what you want," Saint Marcus Mars, the long-bearded Warrior God of Environment, said, breath leaving him in a stale plume.

"My terms... heh heh heh... are simple." Doflamingo fought upright, a ragged chuckle scraped from his throat. "Your Government is pushing this Shichibukai system, isn’t it?"

Fierce ambition blazed in his eyes.

"I’ll return the Heavenly Tribute... in exchange for a seat among the Shichibukai."

To be continued...