After the Jedi Family was absorbed, the group began to grow, yet their strength was strangely inversely proportional to their ages.
If Trebol and Diamante did not start pushing themselves to the limit, they would probably still end up at the bottom.
"Speaking of Haki, Rossi."
Doflamingo watched the plate before him-the food split into neat pieces without warning.
Even while eating, he was honing his Devil Fruit ability.
He turned to his brother beside him.
"Vergo seems to have reached the threshold of Armament Haki."
"...Really?"
Unlike Observation Haki, which depended on talent, or Conqueror's Haki, which relied on bloodline, Armament Haki was a power born from the union of a repeatedly tempered body and an indomitable will.
Vergo was destined to master it in the future; that dark, hardened coating had once left Smoker in a sorry state.
But he was only eleven now.
If he could already use Armament Haki, that would be astonishing.
"No, I haven't mastered it."
Vergo emerged from the inner room with both arms wrapped in bandages, followed by Jora in formal attire.
He had suffered the worst injuries, and his treatment had taken the longest.
If not for Jora's "Art-Art Fruit"
being able to give properties to matter, turning ordinary alcohol into "Healing Water" brimming with vitality,
Vergo's arms, their skin charred black, would have been beyond saving.
"If that first mate hadn't pointed it out, I probably would've just thought the pain had gone to my head."
Vergo recalled what had happened in the cabin.
"Rather than Armament Haki... it was more like a fluke from gritting my teeth and holding on."
Enduring fatal damage through sheer willpower-that sounded like something that should have belonged to certain people favored by destiny.
Rossi listened in silence, guessing that it might have been