The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 51: The Will of Doffy

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

Blood and brains splattered together, painting the muddy street in brutal colors.

A pointed leather shoe pressed into the gore. Above it, a golden-haired boy, drenched in blood, tilted his head back and let out a triumphant, unhinged laugh.

"Hehhahaha!"

The remaining members of the Fells crime family froze mid-battle, their faces draining of color. Horror seized their hearts as they stared at the blood-soaked youth.

"That kid..."

"He's a demon..."

"A full-blown demon..."

Amidst burning ruins, collapsed buildings, curling black smoke, and writhing flames, the boy stood beside a headless corpse like a devil born of war and fire.

Behind him, the top brass of the Donquixote Family gazed at their young lord with burning admiration.

Trebol. Pica. Diamante. Vergo.

Each of them knelt in spirit before the radiance of their king.

Such power. Such grandeur.

Like a rising star, young Doflamingo shone with blinding brilliance.

Born of noble blood. Wielding power that needed no justification. The natural order bent around him.

A cold smile tugged at his lips as he stepped over the corpse of Fells and marched forward, fingers twitching midair as if plucking strings.

With each motion, unseen blades slashed across the streets and buildings, leaving behind clean, unnatural cuts in stone, brick, and flesh.

In his path, a dozen Fells gangsters froze.

Thin crimson lines bloomed across their throats.

By the time they realized what had happened, the world had already tilted sideways.

They saw their own bodies.

Their shoes.

Their fading eyes filled with confusion.

And then, nothing.

Their heads fell.

Schlick!

Fountains of blood erupted from their necks as their lifeless bodies remained standing for one final moment.

"Hehhahaha!"

Doflamingo laughed louder, madness taking hold.

Blood and fire. Screams and steel.

"Finish the rest," he said with a lazy grin.

Donquixote pirates surged forward, eyes gleaming red with fury. Like ravenous beasts, they swept through the street, overwhelming the enemy.

Within minutes, dozens of Fells men had fallen.

The street was no longer a battleground. It was a slaughter.

Blood pooled in the cobblestones. The stench of gunpowder and death clung to the air.

In the center stood the boy.

Doflamingo inhaled deeply, as though savoring the perfume of chaos.

"Fufufu... This is the world I want," he whispered. "A world where chaos reigns. Where only the victors get to walk the stage."

He spread his arms wide. Barely five feet tall, yet exuding the presence of a king.

Smoke, sweat, corpses, and terror surrounded him.

He saw their eyes—the eyes of the Fells gang.

Terror. Submission. Powerlessness.

Yes.

That is how insects should look at me.

Father... are you watching?

This is the gaze we were meant to receive.

This is the world the Celestial Dragons deserve.

Memories flashed—torches, arrows, hatred in the firelight.

He remembered.

Tied to a wall, treated like cattle. Screaming in agony.

They were Dragons. But they were burned like pigs.

You were wrong, Father.

You were wrong.

I am right.

His fingers curled into fists. His glasses flashed with cold hatred.

Crack!

Lightning split the sky. Thunder howled.

And then the rain came.

Torrents fell upon the blood-soaked city.

It washed the blood.

Beat down the fires.

Covered the screams.

The massacre drew to a close. The Fells had broken.

Kneeling. Begging.

Only death answered.

Thirty minutes passed. Then, as quickly as it had come, the rain faded.

Steam rose from broken rubble. Blood soaked the streets. Corpses lay everywhere.

Doflamingo stood alone in the road.

Raindrops dripped from his hair, sleeves, and pant legs.

Around him, his officers knelt in silence, weapons still slick with blood.

Waiting.

"Take the island," he said. "No more killing civilians. Let the people know—our rule brings stability."

His hands trembled. He was suppressing the urge to burn it all.

But he would control himself.

Rubeck Island was only the beginning.

He needed territory. Resources. Infrastructure.

Plundering towns? Wandering aimlessly?

That's what low-class pirates do.

He would build an empire.

And then, the world would kneel.

His men bowed their heads in awe.

Only a king who could tame his own chaos was worthy of loyalty.

That was their young lord.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A sound broke the stillness.

They turned.

A man stood atop the ruins, tall and calm, hands coming together slowly in applause.

He was smiling.

"That was impressive" the stranger said.

"The difference between a drifter and a man with ambition—it shows in the eyes."

He met Doflamingo's gaze.

"You're the real thing."

---

To be continued...