A day quickly slipped by.
Dusk arrived as half an orange sun cast its glow across the sea.
The final day before the Paramount War would soon be over.
"Fufufufufufu!"
A low laugh rang out in the hall where the Shichibukai gathered in Marineford's rest area.
Donquixote Doflamingo surveyed those around him, letting out an inscrutable laugh.
"The Warlords have never gathered in such full force before."
Dracule Mihawk sat there expressionlessly, his eyes alone showing an incomparably sharp edge as he looked down at the coffee on the table.
Empress Boa Hancock wore an icy expression, seemingly disdainful of every man present, though a trace of worry occasionally crossed her brow.
Bartholomew Kuma stood quietly, no trace of humanity left in him, like a machine planted on the spot.
Blackbeard, Marshall D. Teach, and his crew sat together in a corner, discussing something in low voices and occasionally letting out cold chuckles.
Moria looked grim, his eyes filled with unusual agitation.
"Damn it, why do I have to take part in this war?"
He muttered from time to time, visibly furious.
"You're welcome not to come, Gecko Moria. Your strength hasn't qualified you to hold a Warlord's seat for quite some time anyway."
Having overheard him, Donquixote Doflamingo spread his lips in a cold grin.
"What are you saying?"
Moria roared in fury.
"You should understand perfectly well, shouldn't you? A Warlord's seat has never been a place for the weak."
"Our relationship with the World Government is purely one of mutual exploitation and shared interests."
"What use is someone like you, defeated by a rookie and utterly disgraced?"
After a pause, Donquixote Doflamingo sneered.
"So, what do you think awaits you once this war is over?"
Moria's expression changed. He glared furiously at Donquixote Doflamingo, but soon his