The air still smelled of burnt gunpowder and blood.
Dorry's massive sword cleaved through the space where Luffy had stood a heartbeat before, shearing the earth open in a deep scar. Luffy's sandals skidded on the torn ground, his breath coming in sharp, angry pants.
"You're not listening!" Luffy shouted, his voice raw. "We didn't do it!"
"LIES!" Dorry's roar shook the very trees. Tears of grief and rage streaked through the grime on his face. "Broggy is gone! Your kind brought nothing but treachery to our sacred duel!"
He swung again, a horizontal slash meant to cut Luffy in two. Luffy didn't dodge backward. He dove forward, under the lethal arc of steel, the wind of the blade ruffling his hair. He sprang up, a rubber band pulled taut, his fist cocked back.
"Gomu Gomu no—"
Dorry's shield, a wall of ancient iron, slammed into him like a falling fortress. The air left Luffy's lungs in a whoosh. He flew backward, crashing through underbrush, his world a blur of green and pain.
Get up. Get up!
He wasn't fighting a villain. He was fighting a friend's grief, and that made every blow feel heavier. His hand shot out, stretching impossibly far into the forest canopy. His fingers wrapped around the trunk of a towering palm.
"Okay," he grunted to himself, the taste of dirt and copper in his mouth. "New plan."
He yanked.
His body became the projectile, snapping forward like a stone from a sling. Dorry's sword whistled past, missing him by inches as Luffy soared over the giant's head. He saw it then—the sheer, unguarded anguish in Dorry's eyes, the confusion beneath the fury.
Luffy landed on a thick branch, coiled his legs, and pushed off with everything he had.
"ROCKET!"
He became a living cannonball, shooting straight for Dorry's jaw. The impact echoed through Little Garden like a crack of thunder. Dorry's head snapped back, his eyes rolling white. For a terrifying second, the giant warrior teetered, the ground trembling under his wavering balance. Then, with a groan that seemed to come from the earth itself, he began to fall.
The crash was monumental. Birds erupted from the distant forest in a panic.
Luffy hit the dirt a moment later, rolling to a stop, gasping. He pushed himself up, his body aching. Vivi ran to his side, her face pale.
"Is he…?"
Dorry let out a low, rumbling snore. Unconscious, but alive.
"He'll be alright," Vivi said, her voice trembling with relief. "You did the right thing, Luffy. He wouldn't have stopped. He was lost in it."
Luffy didn't feel relieved. He felt a cold, simmering anger burning in his gut. He stared at the fallen giant, then at the charred remains of the victory barrel.
"It wasn't Broggy," Luffy said, his voice low and deadly serious. "And it wasn't anyone on my crew." He turned, his eyes scanning the dense, watching jungle. "Someone else is here. Someone who wants them dead."
The realization hung in the air, more dangerous than any giant's sword.
---
Deep in the heart of the primordial jungle, a predator was having a very bad day.
The Tyrannosaurus rex, ruler of this green hell, had spotted a strange, white structure. It looked like a weird, smooth hill. It smelled… interesting. The beast lunged, jaws wide enough to crush a ship's mast, and clamped down on the wall of the wax house.
CRUNCH.
Not the sound of splintering bone or tearing flesh. The sound of shattering enamel.
The T-Rx stumbled back, shaking its massive head in bewilderment, a low whine of pain rumbling in its throat. It stared, dumbfounded, at the unyielding, tooth-marked wall.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. You're blocking the door."
A man in a striped beret and dark glasses—Mr. 5—stepped out from behind a giant fern, looking profoundly annoyed. He flicked a booger from his nose with his thumb.
The booger shot through the air and exploded against the dinosaur's snout with a small but sharp pop. The beast roared in fresh irritation.
"My turn, darling~" sang a woman's voice from above. Miss Valentine, floating gently down from the canopy under her umbrella, smiled sweetly. "Kilo Kilo no… Ten Thousand!"
Her form plummeted, becoming a living meteor. She landed square on the dinosaur's skull.
THOOM.
The ground quaked. The mighty king of the dinosaurs saw stars, then darkness, and collapsed in a heap, out cold.
Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine stepped over the fallen beast towards the seamless wax door, which melted open to admit them.
Inside was an oasis of absurd civility. The air was cool and smelled of beeswax and Earl Grey tea. A chandelier of solid wax cast a soft glow. At a delicately sculpted table, Mr. 3 sipped from a porcelain cup, his hair styled into his signature '3'. In the corner, a young girl, Miss Goldenweek, napped peacefully on a wax chaise lounge, a half-finished painting of a tranquil landscape beside her.
"An instant hideout in the middle of this savage place," Mr. 5 said, removing his glasses to polish them. "Impressive as always, Mr. 3."
Mr. 3 took a slow, deliberate sip. "Efficiency is the hallmark of genius. Unlike, say, failure, which is the hallmark of certain other pairs."
Miss Valentine's smile tightened. "We didn't fail. The mission parameters changed. We had no intelligence suggesting the Alabasta princess would be traveling with a crew of capable pirates!"
"Capable?" Mr. 3 set his cup down with a soft clink. "You were defeated by a boy made of rubber and a swordsman with a toothpick. Don't dress incompetence in the robes of 'changed parameters.' It's… vulgar."
Mr. 5's jaw clenched. "The mission is still ours. We will finish it."
"Will you?" Mr. 3 leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the wax-light. "The game has evolved. This is no longer a simple assassination. This is a masterpiece in the making. Two ancient warriors, driven by a sacred code… now poisoned by grief and suspicion. Their century-long duel, ended not by honor, but by a whisper and a spark."
A cruel smile played on his lips. He gestured to a large, wax canvas against the wall. On it, he had begun a sculpture—a detailed, dramatic scene of the two giants, Broggy and Dorry, locked in mortal combat, their faces twisted not with warrior's zeal, but with betrayed fury.
"I am not merely an assassin," Mr. 3 whispered, his voice full of dark pride. "I am an artist. And my medium… is chaos."
He looked from Mr. 5 to Miss Valentine, his gaze dismissive.
"Your part in this is over. You are the failed prologue. I," he said, picking up a fresh lump of wax, which began to soften and shape itself in his hands, "am writing the tragic climax."
Miss Valentine's umbrella handle creaked in her grip. Mr. 5's fingers twitched near the pouch at his belt.
Before the tension could snap, Miss Goldenweek stirred in her sleep. On her lap, the top page of her sketchpad fluttered. It wasn't a landscape.
It was a perfectly rendered, color-coded portrait of Monkey D. Luffy, mid-punch, with a single, chilling word written beneath it in cheerful, looping letters:
TARGET.
---
Back at the clearing, Zoro and Nami had returned, drawn by the sounds of battle. They took in the scene: the fallen giant, the scorched earth, and Luffy's stormy expression.
"What happened?" Zoro asked, hand resting on his sword hilts.
"We have company," Luffy said, not looking at them. His gaze was fixed on the jungle depths. "Bad company."
A sudden, unnatural rustle came from the treeline to the east. Not the wind. Not an animal.
Something was moving with purpose.
Then, from the opposite direction, near where the Going Merry was hidden, a sharp, startled cry cut through the air.
Usopp.
Luffy's head snapped toward the sound, his blood running cold. The trap wasn't just for the giants.
It was for all of them.
And in the wax house, Mr. 3 finished molding the newest addition to his sculpture: a small, stylized figure with a straw hat, caught in the wax giants' crossfire, about to be crushed.
He smiled.
"Let the final act begin."
(⭐ If you love the journey, please support us by collecting this story, adding it to your library, and leaving a rating! Your support keeps the adventure alive!)