The dim light of Doflamingo’s throne room casts long shadows across the blood-stained floor, remnants of the violent act still fresh in your mind. You step forward, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach as Doflamingo reclines casually in his chair, unbothered by the carnage.

Your voice finally breaks the oppressive silence. “Was that necessary? Why did it have to end like this?”

He looks at you, an amused smile tugging at his lips, as if your question was expected but foolish. “Necessary?” he echoes, standing up slowly. “You still don’t get it, do you?” His eyes gleam with something dangerous, but calm. “This world doesn’t care about what’s necessary. It cares about who’s in control.”