Chapter 55: Building Momentum

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The Celestial Dragons, usually too arrogant to acknowledge anyone, were now subtly trying to please Carl. Their sudden change in demeanor stemmed from a single fact—Carl was the sole heir of the Figarland family.

To outsiders, all Celestial Dragons were the same—untouchable beings who ruled from their gilded throne in Mary Geoise. But within the Holy Land itself, the Figarland family was different.

They weren't just another noble bloodline.

They were power incarnate.

Without Imu's direct intervention, the Figarland family was the last true shield upholding the Celestial Dragons' supremacy.

Carl was now experiencing firsthand what Garling had once enjoyed—absolute deference.

His uncle merely observed in silence.

Then, as Carl's patience began to wane, he tapped a finger on the table. His voice cut through the noise.

"Silence. It's time to talk about Doflamingo."

A faint but undeniable pressure radiated from Garling at that moment. It was the kind of presence that made even the arrogant Celestial Dragons hesitate. All except Saturn flinched, their breath hitching slightly before they forced out awkward smiles and quietly returned to their seats.

Saturn, remaining silent, watched everything unfold. He and Garling stood on equal footing in terms of status, but today was different. This was Carl's first public appearance, and Saturn had no intention of interfering.

Even he had tacitly accepted that this meeting belonged to Carl.

And why not?

The heir to the Figarland family had spoken.

Doflamingo, meanwhile, had become an afterthought.

From the moment Garling revealed Carl's identity, the former Celestial Dragon was reduced to nothing. A mere footnote.

His very existence paled in comparison to Carl, the undisputed future of the Figarland family.

Had Garling not brought up his name again, the meeting would have continued without anyone even *looking* at him.

Doflamingo could *feel* it.

He had walked into this chamber prepared to fight for his rightful place among the gods. Instead, he had been made to wait in silence, a child clinging to a severed head, completely ignored.

He clenched his teeth.

The weight of his humiliation pressed down on him like a vice.

But to leave now—to walk away—would mean surrendering his only chance to reclaim his birthright.

He *couldn't* accept that.

Garling studied him with a cold gaze. Doflamingo's emotions were laid bare before him—resentment, fear, desperation. It was all so *pathetic*.

His voice was casual, almost mocking.

"How does it feel," he asked, "to kill your own father?"

Doflamingo's body stiffened.

His grip on Homing's severed head tightened.

Then, through gritted teeth, he spat out his answer.

"It doesn't feel like anything. He deserved to die."

Garling's expression remained unchanged. "Give me a real reason."

That was the breaking point.

Doflamingo was still just a child—barely ten years old. He had tried to hold it in, to suppress his emotions, but under Garling's questioning, his composure finally cracked.

"He was *stupid!*"

His voice trembled with rage.

"He *killed* my mother! He let my brother and me suffer like *trash* in the outside world!"

The words spilled out like poison.

Doflamingo told them everything. Every hardship. Every betrayal. Every moment of misery he had endured after leaving the Holy Land.

By the time he finished, his face was flushed with fury.

With a final act of contempt, he tossed Homing's severed head aside like garbage. It rolled across the floor, stopping only when it hit the leg of the table.

Any lingering trace of familial love in Doflamingo's heart had rotted into pure hatred.

He looked around the room, at the other Celestial Dragons who now regarded him with amusement, pity, or outright disinterest.

*"I was supposed to be one of them."*

*"My life is ruined."*

Garling sneered. He didn't even glance at the discarded head.

"Well," he said indifferently, "it seems he got exactly what he deserved."

Saturn, finally speaking up, asked, "Saint Garling, what is your verdict? Should Doflamingo be allowed to return?"

Garling didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze shifted to a Celestial Dragon sitting in the far corner.

He had green hair and a face that, while ugly, was nothing unusual among their kind.

"Saint Mjosgard," Garling said, "Doflamingo is a member of *your* Donquixote family. Do you want him back?"

Carl raised an eyebrow at the name.

*So it's him…*

He still remembered this man from the future—a Celestial Dragon who, after being saved by Otohime, had turned against his own kind and ultimately paid the price with his life.

But right now, Mjosgard was just another arrogant noble.

Mjosgard barely looked at Doflamingo before scoffing.

"Homing was a disgrace to the Donquixote family. He shamed us. We expelled him, and that decision will *never* change."

Doflamingo's eyes widened.

His hands trembled.

Mjosgard turned back to Garling, flashing a sycophantic smile. "Of course, Lord Garling, if *you* wish to grant him entry, that's another matter entirely…"

"Enough."

Garling cut him off with a wave of his hand.

Doflamingo held his breath, his entire fate hanging on what Garling would say next.

But Garling didn't speak.

Instead—he turned to Carl.

"Carl," he said, his tone firm, "you decide. Does Doflamingo stay, or does he die?"

The room went silent.

Every gaze shifted to Carl.

Even Doflamingo, caught off guard, looked at him in shock.

Carl himself was momentarily surprised. He hadn't expected Garling to hand him such a critical decision.

Saturn, arms folded, studied Garling for a long moment before understanding his intent.

Garling was *building momentum.*

By making Carl responsible for Doflamingo's fate, he was sending a clear message—Carl wasn't just an heir in name. He was already someone with authority.

This was more than a test. It was a statement.

Carl was here to stay.

Saturn, realizing this, shifted his attention to Carl.

And that was when he noticed it.

A faint black mark on the back of Carl's hand.

His eyes narrowed.

*That symbol…*

His mind reeled in recognition.

"The demon sword… *Muramasa*?"

Saturn barely suppressed his shock.

That sword wasn't just a relic of the Figarland family. Its significance stretched far beyond that.

It was a weapon with the power to *kill gods.*

Not gods in the way the Celestial Dragons referred to themselves—but *the* god.

*Nika.*

The warrior of liberation.

The one who would rise again.

The implications sent a chill through Saturn's spine.

He had planned to give his opinion on Doflamingo's fate. But now, he held his tongue.

No matter what Carl decided, he would support it.

Because the boy before him was not just the heir of the Figarland family.

He was something much, *much* more.