Anime Girls are Moist

Chapter 1138 1,137: Death of the Donquixote Family!

The royal palace plaza of Dressrosa had long since turned into a living hell.

Razor-sharp parasitic strings filled the sky, glinting coldly in the sunlight—like an airtight, colossal web that wrapped the entire palace within it.

Cries, screams, and the crack of shattering bones blended together, then scattered on the sea wind.

Doflamingo stood atop the highest roof of the palace. His pink feather coat was whipped up by the wind, and his mouth curled into a crazed, arrogant grin.

With lowered eyes, he looked down on the people below struggling like ants, his fingertips lightly swaying.

At the other end of those strings was King Riku III of Dressrosa.

The razor lines bit deep into the old king's flesh, drawing blood.

His hands were forcibly puppeted, gripping a longsword that symbolized royal authority—the tip pressed hard against his own throat.

"Riku III, hurry up and do it."

Doflamingo's voice carried a mocking smile as it boomed through the broadcast system across the entire island.

"In front of all your subjects, slit your own throat and atone. Let them see what kind of tyrant the king they've been longing for really is."

Riku III trembled all over, his cloudy eyes brimming with tears and humiliation.

He exhausted every ounce of strength trying to break free, but the strings were like they'd grown into his bones and blood.

No matter how he struggled, he could only watch as the sword point slowly pierced his skin, beading fresh blood.

On the other side of the plaza, Kyros had been driven into a corner.

One leg was broken. His body was covered in wounds of varying depth, blood soaking through his clothes, and all he had left was a chipped, broken sword.

Trebol's sticky mucus had wrapped around half of him, pinning him in place. He could only watch as the old king was forced into a dead end.

Not far away, Rebecca huddled in a corner, her face paper-white with fear, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

"Kyros, aren't you the so-called undefeated hero?"

Diamante raised his sword, his face full of sneering ridicule.

"So why can't you even move now? Watching your king die, watching your daughter terrified—feels powerless, doesn't it?"

Trebol let out a freakish heh-heh laugh, snot wobbling with every movement.

"Stop struggling. Young Master's power is invincible. Today, all of you are going to die here."

Pica rumbled in agreement, his rocky muscles tensed, ready to crush whatever resistance remained.

Gladius clutched a bomb in his hand, his eyes burning with manic killing intent.

Every executive of the Donquixote Family was intoxicated by the thrill of about to seize Dressrosa completely.

Citizens fled in all directions, only to be herded by parasitic strings until there was nowhere left to run.

Some were forced by the strings to slaughter each other; some collapsed on the ground, wailing in despair. The entire nation was plunging into boundless darkness.

No one noticed that, high above the palace plaza, a young man was standing there in silence.

Rei Ao didn't even lift his eyelids.

He simply hovered in midair, without a trace of presence leaking out—like he had fused with the wind, the sunlight, the very air around him.

The catastrophe consuming the whole country was, to him, no different from a few ants fighting.

He couldn't be bothered to waste words on a bunch of clowns.

He didn't even make an extra movement—he only slowly raised one hand.

No earth-shaking technique. No flashy effects. No sweeping, domineering aura. Not even a stir of wind.

He just reached toward the rooftop… and gently clenched his fingers.

"Pff—"

A dull, extreme sound of flesh bursting abruptly cut through the plaza's chaos.

On the roof, Doflamingo's wild laughter hadn't even faded before his whole body was seized as if by an invisible hand—one that stood above the rules of the world—and crushed mercilessly.

His pupils snapped tight. Absolute terror drowned every shred of his arrogance in an instant.

The strings about to surge from his fingertips were pulverized on the spot.

The awakening he'd prepared for so long, the power just beginning to spread, was forced back into his body—without even raising the slightest ripple.

His prized Haki was as thin as paper before that force.

He didn't even manage a scream.

Throat, bones, organs, muscles—everything was compressed to the limit in the same instant, then detonated.

His body became a thick, vivid mist of blood that exploded under the sun.

Shreds of the pink feather coat mixed with warm blood spray and drifted down from the roof like a rain that reeked of iron, splattering onto the faces and bodies of everyone in the plaza.

A second ago, Doflamingo's crazed voice had been blasting across the island.

Now it cut off abruptly.

Only a harsh electric hiss remained in the broadcast, painfully loud in the plaza's sudden deathly silence.

Below, the Donquixote Family executives all froze.

The arrogance, mockery, and madness on their faces looked as if they'd been wiped away by force—replaced by bone-deep, absolute fear.

Time itself seemed to stop.

Trebol's wobbling snot just hung there on his chin. His sticky face was full of disbelief, and he forgot even to breathe.

His mouth hung open, no sound coming out for a long while—until the snot dripped onto his clothes and he jolted back to reality, his voice shaking beyond control.

"Y-young… Young Master?!"

With a clang, Diamante's sword fell to the ground.

He stared at the rooftop—now empty except for smeared blood—and trembled all over.

Impossible.

This was absolutely impossible.

Young Master was an awakened String-String Fruit user.

How could he fail to take even one move—how could he be unable to resist at all—and just explode into a mist of blood out of nowhere?

They hadn't even seen who attacked, or what ability was used.

But they didn't get time to process it.

Rei Ao's gaze finally swept down, calm and flat.

There was no killing intent in it, yet it was like an ancient glacier pressing down on the hearts of every Donquixote executive.

Another invisible force descended without warning.

"BOOM—"

The ground split instantly with dense cracks.

Trebol, Diamante, Pica, Gladius, Señor…

Every Donquixote executive standing in the plaza was slammed into the ground in the same instant by an irresistible power.

The hard stone paving collapsed into deep craters under their bodies.

The sound of bones snapping crackled in a rapid chorus—like beans popping in a wok—horrifically clear in the dead silence.

Trebol tried to unleash his mucus ability—

But the mucus that had just emerged was flattened in an instant into a dead, stagnant puddle.

Even his body warped under the pressure, thick fluids mixed with blood surging from his mouth.

Diamante tried to activate the Flag-Flag Fruit.

But his clothes were pinned tightly to his body. He couldn't move at all. The bones in his limbs were crushed and broken, and all he could do was let out a muffled, agonized grunt.

Pica's rocky armor shattered to powder the moment it hit the ground.

He tried to merge into the surrounding stone wall—

But that force locked him down completely, not leaving even a sliver of space. His spine was crushed, and he couldn't even scream.

They couldn't move even a finger.

All they could do was lie facedown in the shattered stone pits, their chests compressed to the point of bursting,

letting out broken, unbearable wails.

Just moments ago, the Donquixote Family had been unstoppable, toying with an entire nation in the palm of their hand—

and in the span of a single raised hand, they were utterly wiped out…