Watching Moria collapse in a single blow, Dark Thorn swallowed hard, his pupils narrowing as his face twisted in shock.
That punch just now had looked light—almost casual—but in truth, Rosinante had compressed all the force into one pinpoint, driving it into Moria's body like an arrow before detonating it from within.
So strong! This wasn't just a difference in strength—it was a difference in dinsion. I was actually foolish enough to think there was a chance to beat him… How arrogant of .
That crushing pressure emanating from Rosinante wasn't an illusion. I've only ever felt sothing like it once before—from Kaido of the Beasts.
"Bzzz…" Rosinante murmured softly.
As soon as he spoke, a black vortex appeared before him.
"Take this one back. Don't let him die—his Devil Fruit ability could still be useful," Rosinante ordered.
With that, he grabbed Moria by the collar and casually tossed him into the dark portal. The wormhole shimred briefly, then vanished completely.
"Fufufufu… to think there's such a gap between them?" Doflamingo's low, cold laugh echoed as his expression shifted between disbelief and fascination.
After so many years, seeing Rosinante take action again left Doflamingo deeply shaken.
He'd read the reports—he already had a vague idea that Rosinante's strength had far surpassed his own—but witnessing Moria fall with a single punch drove the reality ho.
Was Moria weak? Absolutely not. His Shadow-Shadow Fruit was one of the most troubleso abilities out there. Yet before Rosinante, he looked like a helpless child—no ti to react, no chance to fight back, defeated instantly.
In truth, this Moria hadn't even entered the New World yet. His strength hadn't peaked. But even so, he wasn't any weaker than the Moria who would later lose to Kaido.
Against soone with Admiral-level power like Rosinante, though, an instant defeat was inevitable.
It was the sa way Borsalino in the future could instantly crush several Supernovas on the Sabaody Archipelago. It wasn't that those pirates were weak—once soone reached Admiral level, there was a vast, almost unbridgeable gap between them and everyone below. Unless one possessed an absurdly powerful fruit, there was no way to close that distance.
"Fufufufu… Rosinante, Rosinante… very good. Very, very good!"
Doflamingo's expression shifted with every word—from gloomy, to strangely calm, and finally to sothing almost peaceful. It was as if he'd released a burden, let go of pride or stubbornness long held inside.
"You've really grown stronger, Rosinante," he said softly. "You're no longer that kid who needed my protection. In that case… maybe it's not so bad for you to lead the Donquixote Family. But don't get complacent. I'm not planning to give up. The mont you let your guard down, I'll be right there—catching up to you."
"Yacha~ So he's down, huh?" Borsalino said lazily. "But the next one won't be so easy to take out."
To him, Moria's instant defeat ca as no surprise.
Sure, Moria had been one of the more dazzling pirates to erge in the Great Pirate Era after Roger's death—but in Borsalino's eyes, he was still just a rising rookie.
For a man who had weathered the storms of the New World, anyone who hadn't survived that crucible simply didn't matter.
"The Reaper, huh?" Sakazuki said grimly. "If he and Dark Thorn join forces, it might get interesting. But if he's as foolish as Moria, then he won't even make Rosinante take this seriously."
"Don't be so stiff," Borsalino chuckled. "Maybe Rosinante lets his guard down and gets beaten by the Reaper. Who knows?"
"Instead of hoping Rosinante makes a mistake," Sakazuki snapped, "you'd better start thinking about how to stop him. If he wins this battle and brings these people under his banner, he'll be even harder to deal with."
"Hmm, that's true…" Borsalino mused, the corners of his mouth curling up. "Then how about I take care of it? I'll kill off the ones who look promising before he can recruit them. They're not part of the Grey Domain yet—no one can bla Rosinante if they disappear now."
"It won't work," Tsuru said calmly, cutting in. "If Rosinante wins this war, his influence will skyrocket. Even if you kill every strong fighter here, the prestige he gains from victory will make countless others flock to his banner. The way the papers talk about him now—he's already being seen as a king of the seas."
"Damn it! So we're just going to sit here and watch him grow stronger?" Sakazuki growled.
No one answered. The silence that followed was heavy.
At that mont, Rosinante turned his head, his eyes locking on a new presence. After tossing Moria through the wormhole, he looked toward a figure stepping slowly into Zone 1, shrouded in a long coat.
"The Reaper."
To prevent another situation like Moria's, Dark Thorn imdiately appeared beside the newcor.
"Dark Thorn," the Reaper said evenly, his tone calm yet chilling. "Since you're here, why did you call in?"
The number one assassin of the underworld and the number one rcenary of the underworld—two legends in the sa shadowed world. They had never fought, but they knew enough of each other's reputations to understand what they were dealing with.
"This target isn't one we can handle easily," Dark Thorn warned quietly. "You should be careful. Otherwise, your perfect record—the legend of the Reaper who never fails a mission—ends today."
"I see," the Reaper murmured, his voice like a blade drawn in the dark. "So this job isn't so simple after all. You want to team up, then?"
"This ti, our opponent… is a true monster," Dark Thorn replied coldly.
"A monster?" The Reaper's lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile. "I love hunting monsters the most." His eyes, pale and lifeless, turned toward Rosinante.
"That's him, then? The target?"
"That's right," Dark Thorn said grimly. "Dragon King Rosinante. A terrifying monster. Don't compare him to those so-called Supernovas. I just saw one of them get taken out with a single punch."
"I'll test him first," the Reaper said.
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, his body flickered and vanished.
In an instant, he was beside Rosinante—silent, ghostlike—his cold, emotionless eyes fixed on his prey. A long, gleaming scythe arced through the air toward Rosinante's neck.
It was a clean, ruthless swing—one ant to reap a life, the strike of Death himself coming to claim his due.
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