Sun Devourer | Trafalgar Law

Chapter 25: Sundream

Ｓｕｎｄｒｅａｍ

Warning: A boring chapter lol

In the dream, (Y/n) stood alone in a quiet, desolate world. A puddle at her feet reflected her seemingly normal self, but the world within the reflection revealed a stark contrast. In the twisted realm of the upside-down, her reflection morphed into a haunting image – a zombie, embodying the decay and darkness that had perhaps lingered within her.

The tension in the air thickened as the word "Donquixote" hung between them. (Y/n) stood firm, her gaze unwavering, as her father, Doflamingo Donquixote, stared back with an intensity that hinted at a complicated history.

Doflamingo's voice, smooth and calculated, broke the silence. "You bear the blood of a Donquixote — you bear my blood, (Y/n)," he stated, his words carrying the weight of a legacy she had both inherited and sought to distance herself from.

A defiant edge entered (Y/n)'s voice as she firmly responded, "I'm not a Donquixote." Her words held a resonance that reflected the internal struggle to carve out her identity separate from the infamous name that loomed over her.

Doflamingo, known for his cunning and manipulation, observed her closely. The dim lighting cast shadows on his face, emphasizing the enigmatic nature of the man who stood before (Y/n). The atmosphere crackled with the unspoken history and conflicting emotions that lingered between them.

"What do you want?" (Y/n) demanded, her glare piercing through the familial ties that bound them. The question hung in the air, a challenge to the motives and intentions that had brought her father into her life once again.

Doflamingo's expression remained composed, betraying little of his true thoughts. "I've heard tales of your exploits, (Y/n)," he replied, a hint of curiosity underlying his words. "A pirate forging her own path. I came to see if the blood of a Donquixote truly runs through your veins or if you've managed to escape the destiny that often entwines our family."

Doflamingo's gaze remained fixed on her, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he absorbed (Y/n)'s defiance.

"Blood ties run deep, (Y/n)," Doflamingo responded, his tone laced with a calculated charm. "Even if you choose to deny it, the Donquixote name has a way of weaving itself into the fabric of one's destiny."

(Y/n)'s eyes held a steely resolve, her skepticism deepening. "I've made my own choices and forged my own path," she retorted, her words a declaration of independence. "I won't be entangled in the web of your schemes and power plays."

Doflamingo chuckled, a sound that echoed through the room with an unsettling cadence. "Independence is a luxury, my dear. But the world we live in often demands alliances and connections."

"I'm not one of your own, and never will be," (Y/n) asserted, her tone cutting through the air like a blade. The Donquixote name, with its dark legacy, hung heavily between them, a symbol of both power and oppression.

Doflamingo, known for his ability to manipulate both strings and people, circled around his daughter with a predatory grace. "You may try to distance yourself, (Y/n), but the threads of fate have a way of intertwining. The Donquixote legacy is not easily shaken off."

The puddle beneath her feet seemed to ripple with a disconcerting energy, mirroring the internal conflict she faced. It was as if this dream had become a metaphorical journey, a manifestation of her inner struggle to separate the goodness within her from the shadows that threatened to consume.

As (Y/n) stood in contemplation, the puddle before her seemed to transform into a reflective portal, offering a glimpse into an alternate reality. In its shimmering surface, she witnessed a distorted version of herself – a projection of what accepting the Donquixote blood might entail.