To build this duel arena,
Doflamingo hadn't just given orders—he personally oversaw the work, even staying up late into the night to monitor progress.
He even mobilized all the Donquixote Family executives to help!
On top of that, with Pica's Stone–Stone Fruit, which allowed him to freely manipulate rock, construction efficiency skyrocketed.
In just a few days,
they completed a super-massive duel arena that spanned from Sabaody Archipelago Area 14 all the way to Area 30!
"You've worked hard these past days," Ron said with a smile as he stepped behind the bar.
"What do you want as payment?"
Hearing this, Doflamingo waved his hands hurriedly.
"No, no, no! There's no need—this is what I should be doing."
Ron shrugged.
"Alright then, I won't hold back."
Doflamingo's face instantly darkened.
Damn it.
I was just being polite!
You actually took it seriously?!
So all that hard work was for nothing?!
You really deserve to die!
If I weren't completely outmatched, I'd make you understand what real underhanded tactics look like…
Just as Doflamingo felt like his sincerity had been fed to a dog—
A flash of light appeared.
Three Devil Fruits materialized on the bar.
"Relax, I was joking. Don't pull such a funeral face—smile a bit."
"One Paramecia, and two Ancient Zoans."
"Consider this your reward for building the arena."
Ron smiled. "What, not enough?"
"Enough! More than enough!"
"Thank you, Boss!"
Doflamingo immediately hugged the three Devil Fruits to his chest, as if afraid Ron might change his mind.
Ron nodded and said nothing more, returning to the newspaper in his hands.
Just then—
The tavern doors were kicked open.
Rayleigh strode in, chest out, looking smug.
"Kid!"
"This time I struck it rich."
"Morgans paid me a full one billion Beli!"
"When are you free? I'll treat you to some fast food."
Ron: "..."
Too stingy.
You've got a billion Beli and you're talking about fast food?
You're the Dark King, for god's sake—this is embarrassing.
At the very least, shouldn't we go wild at Gran Tesoro?
Seeing Ron ignore him, Rayleigh leaned in and muttered with a wicked grin:
"Most men hate pink when they're young."
"But when they grow up, they care very much whether it's pink or not."
"Kid, opportunity knocks but once. If you don't go, I'll have to wish myself good fertility."
Ron replied solemnly,
"Please make sure you take me."
Their eyes met.
Both of their lips curved upward uncontrollably.
Just then, a soft, milky voice sounded:
"Your drink. Please enjoy."
Rayleigh looked down.
A small, adorable girl was standing on tiptoe, placing a bottle of alcohol in front of him.
Rayleigh frowned in disdain.
"Child labor?"
Ron smiled calmly.
"She's over a thousand years old."
"By age, you should be calling her ancestor."
Rayleigh: "..."
As time passed,
regulars like the Demon Lord and his son, Karshe, Morgana, the Dark King, and others all arrived.
Knowing the duel arena was complete, even rare visitors like Black Tiger, Boiling Goat, Saitama, Escanor, and Jiraiya came to watch the fun.
The tavern grew explosively lively.
Escanor raised his axe, scanning the crowd, declaring he'd take on ten at once.
A certain handsome man with slicked-back hair quietly drew Kyōka Suigetsu.
If Gray Wolf hadn't ordered him to find a screwdriver, he might've already declared war.
Elsewhere—
The Dark King wanted to fight Snow Emperor to determine supremacy and settle life and death!
Snow Emperor calmly replied:
"Why do such meaningless things? Love can resolve everything. Why can't you face the love in your heart?"
The Dark King nearly flipped the table.
At a side table—
Karshe sipped her drink and smiled gently.
"Want to fight?"
Morgana might've been nervous inside, but her presence didn't falter.
"Come on, bitch! I dare you!"
Karshe chuckled lightly.
"Boring. I can see the fear in your heart."
Morgana froze—
Then instantly turned into a professional broadcaster, unloading a full verbal barrage.
At that moment—
The Demon Lord stood up and let out a chilling roar, pointing straight at Saitama.
"I ask everyone here to grant me some face."
"Let me fight this bald man."
"Everything consumed in this tavern today—"
"Will be paid for by me!"
Not long ago, after his son lost an arm-wrestling match to Saitama,
the Demon Lord, as a father, naturally wanted payback and challenged him on the spot.
But his son showed zero reaction—
even a hint of killing intent toward his father.
The reason?
Yesterday, after breaking his son's legs, the Demon Lord didn't heal him immediately—
he waited until today.
And spent the whole night grinding a low-level account instead.
Now—
The tavern went silent.
No one objected.
Saitama stood up, lifted his head, and stared at the Demon Lord with his usual dead-fish eyes.
"I hope you can entertain me."
The Demon Lord looked down at him, crimson eyes burning with battle intent.
"Kid, don't talk big too early."
As the two exchanged threats, Ron spoke calmly:
"Spectator tickets cost ten million per day."
"Paid at the tavern. Comes with a complimentary bottle of Maotai."
"The loser pays the venue fee."
"Payment cannot be money—only items, weapons, or similar valuables."
"Any objections?"
The first rule existed because if everyone was fighting, they wouldn't have time to drink.
The free bottle kept profits flowing and helped upgrade the tavern.
The second rule was for people without spare items.
For example—Escanor.
You couldn't exactly make him hand over his divine axe before the fight.
That's why the loser paid.
"No objections," everyone replied.
Ron nodded with a smile.
"Then let's go."
Inside the Duel Arena
The moment everyone stepped inside—
Ron, Tohru, and Lucoa exchanged a glance.
At the same time, magic circles rose beneath their feet.
The formations expanded rapidly, enveloping the entire arena.
A barrier.
To prevent the arena from being destroyed—or worse, affecting the outside world.
After everyone took their seats, Ron said softly:
"Begin."
As his words fell—
Saitama and the Demon Lord charged at each other simultaneously.
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