Chapter 22

What was going on-

In that instant of hesitation, Rossi had already closed in on the beast tamer! With no time to wonder why the hounds stood frozen, he instinctively swung his long whip.

The specially made whip twisted through the air like a writhing python, whistling toward Rossi's face!

Sharp barbs covered the whip. Even a graze would tear away a strip of flesh.

How many self-proclaimed tough guys had howled and begged beneath this whip? This boy had to dodge-

Dodging was his only choice!

Crack!

The tip struck Rossi's shoulder hard. Its barbs instantly bit through the fabric and sliced open his flesh, exposing the red muscle beneath to the air.

That blow nearly shredded half his shoulder.

But Rossi used its momentum to step forward again, driving straight into the tall, burly man's chest.

Shit-

Ultimately, a whip was a tool for taming beasts, an instrument for torturing people, but not a true weapon for mortal combat.

The boy had actually taken the attack with his body. Too late to pull back, the beast tamer could only watch the dull-colored blade stab toward his abdomen.

He hastily blocked downward.

A muffled sound of flesh being pierced.

"You damned brat!"

Pain exploded through his palm, and the beast tamer roared in fury.

As his fingers instinctively closed around the metal embedded in his flesh, countless cruel thoughts churned through his mind.

"I'll have my 'children' tear you-"

Rossi gave him no chance to finish.

He hooked a foot around the man's leg while grabbing his leather jacket's collar and his belt.

He exerted his strength and lifted.

The burly man in leather rose off the ground, then hurtled toward the hounds like a sandbag.

A heavy thud as he hit the ground.

"Whine?"

The hounds scattered nimbly, low growls rumbling in their throats.

It was the warning before their fangs sank in.

"-Attack!"

The beast tamer pushed himself up, his voice twisted with anger.

He had never been so humiliated.

He had to make this bastard pay. He had to-

"Don't waste your breath."

Rossi's voice was frighteningly calm. "Your 'children' can't hear you now."

Even the best beast tamer needed sounds paired with movements to establish commands.

Without those two things, even members of the same species could not understand one another's intentions, let alone animals.

As far as the hounds could tell, after their master gave the command to "surround,"

he had fallen silent and merely wrestled with the prey.

And...

Blood kept dripping from the beast tamer's pierced palm.

The sweet, bloody scent spread, making the hounds, accustomed to eating raw meat, grow restless.

Their nostrils flared rapidly, and their eyes gradually turned dark red.

"Tell me,"

Rossi tilted his head. "What happens when a beast tamer no longer has his whip?"

The burly man in leather froze.

He lowered his head.

A ring of hounds baring sharp teeth surrounded him, his rigid figure reflected in their bloodred eyes.

To keep them aggressive, these beasts were always kept half-starved.

And now:

The smell of bleeding, no whip in sight, no commands... that meant he was no longer their "master."

"Get... get away!"

The beast tamer waved his arms to drive them off, but a tremor slipped into his voice.

The splattering blood only excited the hounds further.

They easily smelled fear-the scent of weakness, the signal of food.

The next second, dark shapes sprang at him from every direction.

The burly man in leather was pinned to the ground.

"No-!"

Tearing, chewing, and swallowing blended together.

Amid them came a leaking hiss, like a punctured leather bag.

It was the sound of the last bit of air squeezing through a shattered windpipe as his throat was bitten through.

The smell of blood mingled with dust filled the courtyard.

As Doflamingo rushed around the corner of the main house, his boot crushed half a bloodstained roof tile.

He saw that familiar figure standing in the courtyard, his dark coat soaked crimson, yet his posture as straight as an unbroken spear.

"Rossi."

The voice squeezed through his teeth.

The knuckles of his gun hand turned white.

"You're not too late."

Rossi turned his face. Torn flesh showed through the ripped fabric at his left shoulder, and several claw marks stretched from beneath his ribs to his waist, deep enough to reveal white bone.

His breathing was steady, as though he were uninjured. "Just in time for the show."

He tipped his chin toward the other side of the courtyard.

Over a dozen muscular hounds formed a semicircle, scraps of flesh and cloth hanging from their fangs, low growls rolling in their throats.

A mangled human shape lay at their feet-the beast tamer's neck bent at an unnatural angle, one hand still clutching half a broken whip.

"The basement's over there."

Rossi said, "They're still alive."

Before he finished speaking, a dark figure darted past his side.

The long blades strapped to Vergo's arms traced two silver arcs. The first sliced away half the nearest hound's skull, and the second opened another's belly.

White steam rose from its intestines as they slid out.

Doflamingo did not move.

He raised his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together.

Pfft.

Pfft, pfft.

Faint whistles rang out in succession.

Three hounds lunging from the side froze simultaneously, a tiny hole appearing between each one's eyes.

They collapsed before the blood could even flow.

"Save your strength."

Doflamingo lowered his hand and glanced at Rossi's wounded shoulder. "Don't die here."

Rossi tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He inhaled deeply-the expansion of his chest pulled at his wounds, making the corner of his eye twitch with pain-then that breath sank down along his spine to the soles of his feet before surging upward.

He charged so fast that wind whistled in his wake.

His first sweeping kick swung like an axe in a full arc.

The heads of two hounds lunging side by side crashed together with a muffled sound like bursting watermelons.

They flew into the courtyard wall and bounced back. By the time they landed, their neck bones had broken into three pieces.

Immediately afterward, he twisted and brought his right fist crashing down.

His fist struck the crown of the third hound's skull.

Before the beast could even whimper, its entire head was driven into the paving bricks.

The bricks cracked like a spiderweb. The hound's body stuck upright, its hind legs twitching twice before going still.

The courtyard suddenly fell silent.

Bolkin slumped beneath a veranda pillar, the crotch of his trousers soaked.

Doflamingo narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting between Rossi's bleeding shoulder and the fist embedded in the ground.

"Let's go."

Rossi shook his wrist, blood dripping from his fingertips. "We need to hurry."

He led the way toward the low wooden door in the courtyard's corner.

The door was unlocked and opened with a push.

The smell of mold mixed with something else billowed out, like rotten meat left wrapped in damp cloth for three days.

The steps were steep.

Rossi descended five steps and stopped.

Doflamingo's voice came from behind. "What is it?"

Rossi did not answer.

He stared into the gloom deep inside the basement, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The rank stench of rust and ** wove a sticky web through the underground space. Every breath felt like swallowing cotton soaked in filthy blood.

Many bodies hung in the compartments on either side, suspended in midair by iron hooks driven through their wrists.

Some were missing hands and feet. Others had no skin left, with only a few dark red holes where their facial features should have been.

Even the disturbance of Rossi's group entering failed to make a single one of them stir.

"What an utterly inefficient pastime."

There was no righteous indignation in Doflamingo's assessment, only pure weariness with such conduct.

Vergo's teeth made faint grinding sounds in the silence. He followed silently at the rear of the group, taking no action on his own even though he knew the three people they sought were nearby.

Rossi glanced at him, a trace of approval passing through his mind-as a traveling companion, this man was fairly reliable.

It was over. It was all over.

Trebol felt like livestock awaiting slaughter in a slaughterhouse, hanging from a hook and quietly waiting for the end.

It was all his own fault... How could he have imagined that some random passerby could expose the fatal weakness of his Devil Fruit ability in a single sentence?

No, that had been no random passerby.

Those two brats... were probably hired by the Jedi Family long ago.

First, provoke members of the Family and draw the four of them into attacking, then strike while they were unprepared-once they retreated to their base wounded, Jedi's surprise attack followed immediately.

One link after another, all meticulously calculated.

He had been far too careless...

The only thought that still let him catch his breath was that Vergo had escaped disaster because he had gone to find a doctor.

Vergo also knew where that Devil Fruit was hidden.

Eat it and leave this city.

When you've become strong enough, come back-

"Trebol!"

"Open your eyes! Hurry!"

...Who was calling?

The familiar voices reached his ears, making Trebol, who had already given up struggling, barely lift his eyelids.

First, Diamante's tall, thin figure appeared in his vision, then Pica's broad shoulders, and then-

His gaze shifted downward, and he saw Vergo wipe his face with the back of his hand.

"You're still alive..."

Wait, those two were...

Beside Vergo stood Rossi with his arms folded, and Doflamingo with his face turned aside.

"They're the ones who got us out,"

Diamante interrupted his daze, his voice hoarse. "We'll explain once we're outside."

Neither Diamante nor Pica had a single patch of uninjured flesh on him. Together, they freed Trebol from the hook.

Unlike his two companions, who could still stand, Trebol's thin body could not even maintain its balance.

"I'll carry him."

Pica's shrill voice rang out. He crouched down of his own accord and hoisted Trebol onto his back.

Rossi had already tilted his head toward the exit.

"If everyone's here, let's go.

Next-we kill our way out."

The basement's iron door closed behind them, shutting away the mingled stench of rust and moldy decay.

Rossi was the first to step onto the stone stairs leading to the surface, his boots crushing congealed blood with faint cracking sounds.

The bodies hanging on the walls on either side began to writhe. The scraping of iron hooks through collarbones sounded like rusty gears turning.

"Take... me with you..."

A hoarse plea drifted from somewhere, its syllables so broken they were almost unrecognizable.

Doffy did not break stride, his gun barrel gleaming iron-gray in the dim light.

He glanced sideways at his brother, who had slowed beside him, a faint crease forming beneath his brow.

"Now isn't the time to go soft."

Most of the hanging bodies no longer looked human. Broken limbs dangled at unnatural angles, their chests rising and falling as faintly as dying embers.

Rossi's gaze swept over the nearest one-a girl, an iron hook piercing her shoulder blade, the outlines of dark red organs barely visible in the open wound in her abdomen.

Her lips were still trembling, but she could no longer form complete sounds.

"We can't take them with us."

Rossi kept his voice very low, as though trying to convince himself.

He tightened his grip on the ** in his hand, his knuckles whitening with the force. "The moment we lower the hooks, a lot of them will stop breathing."

Doffy had already raised his gun.

The muzzle pointed at the third hanging captive on the left-a man who had lost both legs, the rags wrapped around his abdomen soaked blackish brown by the fluid seeping out.

"Do you need release?"

There was no warmth in Doffy's question. His index finger tapped lightly against the trigger guard. "Ten seconds."

The bodies on the hooks began to stir.

Some whimpered, some shook their heads desperately, and others used the last of their strength to raise their mutilated arms.

The first to speak was the girl with the open abdomen, her eyes frighteningly bright in the gloom.

"**."

The gunshot exploded in the enclosed space, shaking dust loose from the walls.

The dull thud of ** piercing a chest was followed by a brief silence, then more voices surged in from every direction.

"Kill me-"

"Please... end it..."

Doffy's muzzle moved steadily, each pause accompanied by an explosive report.