The massive palace of Whole Cake Island was a marvel of indulgence and opulence, a testament to Big Mom's insatiable desire for grandeur. It was not merely a building but a fortress of extravagance, constructed to dwarf even the most magnificent castles of the New World.
Its candy-coated walls sparkled under the sunlight, while towering spires of spun sugar reached into the heavens, each one a different hue of the rainbow. The entrance was grand enough to accommodate even the largest of giants, its arched doorway flanked by colossal statues of sweets-shaped guardians that seemed to watch all who dared enter.
Inside, the red carpet stretched endlessly, lined by shimmering chandeliers made of diamonds and glowing sugar crystals that illuminated the vast hallways. The interior was a fusion of artistry and decadence: stained glass windows depicted moments of Charlotte Linlin's conquests, while the scent of the finest confections wafted through the air.
Despite its appearance, the palace exuded an intimidating aura, a reminder that its ruler was as dangerous as she was extravagant.
The air in Big Mom's Throne Room was suffocating, thick with tension and the palpable weight of her growing fury.
"Mama… do I send back the other delegates?" Perospero stammered, his usual confidence faltering as beads of sweat trickled down his temple. His candy cane staff trembled slightly in his grasp, betraying his unease. The towering figure of Charlotte Linlin, better known to the world as Big Mom, loomed over him. Her rage wasn't just simmering—it was an inferno threatening to engulf the room.
Her bloodshot eyes locked onto Perospero, silencing him with a glare that could wither steel. Her labored breathing was more than ominous; each exhale hissed like steam escaping a pressure cooker. The aura of her unbridled power distorted the very air around her, making the walls of the room groan in protest.
"Send them back...?" Her voice was a guttural snarl, a rumble that sent shivers down Perospero's spine. Her massive fist clenched, causing the ground beneath her to crack.
"You dare tarnish my name, Perospero? I called them here! Pledged my name! My prestige! Do you have any idea what it would mean to cancel the tea party? To admit that I—Charlotte Linlin—cannot control my own territory?"
The venom in her words was sharp enough to cut through stone. Her imposing shadow stretched over her eldest son, swallowing him whole in its darkness.
"Mama, I didn't mean—" Perospero began, his voice shaky, his usual bravado utterly gone.
"Silence!" she roared, the sound so deafening it reverberated throughout Whole Cake Island.
"Do you know how long I've waited for this moment? After all these years, I finally have a chance to reconcile with the giants, and you dare suggest I give it up?" Her hand slammed down on the armrest of her throne, splintering the ornate candy-like structure beneath her.
"You dare insult my ambition? My plan?"
Perospero involuntarily took a step back, his usual smirk wiped clean off his face. "N-no, Mama… I would never," he stammered, bowing his head to avoid the searing intensity of her gaze.
"And let's not forget!" Big Mom continued, rising from her throne. The floor creaked beneath her massive frame as she leaned forward, her shadow enveloping the trembling Perospero completely.
"I made a promise. A promise to throw the most lavish funeral banquet for that brat!" Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "I don't break promises. Not to my family. Not to the world!"
Perospero gulped. "Of course, Mama," he said quickly, clutching his candy staff tightly.
"Then stop wasting my time with such foolishness," Big Mom growled, waving a massive hand dismissively. "Go. Make sure the guests are comfortable. I don't want a single conflict with that Donquixote brat until the tea party is over. Is that understood?"
"Y-yes, Mama!" Perospero stammered, bowing deeply before practically scrambling out of the room, the tension still clinging to him like a second skin.
As the massive doors of the throne room slammed shut, Big Mom's lips curled into a wicked smile, though her rage still bubbled just beneath the surface. "That brat thinks he can step into my world, play games with me?" she muttered to herself, her voice a low growl.
"We'll see who's still standing when the tea party's over. Mama-mama-mama!" Her haunting laughter echoed through the cavernous room, a chilling reminder of the storm brewing on Whole Cake Island.
Just a few minutes after Perospero had left to oversee the tea party preparations, Big Mom was indulging in twisted delight, contemplating the myriad ways she could torment the brat who dared to challenge her. However, her revelry was interrupted when her Observation Haki detected a presence outside the palace.
Her unrestrained bloodlust, which had been suffocating the air moments before, shifted abruptly. A wicked smile spread across her face, filled with equal parts malice and anticipation. They were finally here.
This was the presence she had been waiting for, the one that could make her temporarily forget even the chaos stirred by Rosinante. Unlike the other guests, none of whom had the privilege of meeting her before the grand tea party began, Big Mom herself had personally extended an invitation to this group for a private audience.
She shifted on her throne, her hulking figure casting an ominous shadow across the throne room. The Empress of Totto Land was ready to greet her long-awaited guests—guests she hoped would help her secure a future where her dominion was unshakable.
The heavy, deliberate footsteps of giants echoed through the main hall, announcing their presence long before they came into view.
A contingent of Big Mom's children guided the distinguished guests through the main entrance, led by Charlotte Compote, her massive girth similar to that of her mother masked beneath the lavish attire.
She was flanked by her siblings, including Cracker, whose stern expression betrayed none of the tension he felt. Together, they escorted the giants along the carpet that led to the throne room.
At the forefront of the visitors was a figure who demanded attention simply by existing. Loki, the prince of Elbaf, carried himself with an aura of absolute confidence, as if he owned not just this palace but the very ground it stood upon.
His every step was purposeful, his immense frame moving with a poise that belied his towering size. Adorned in regal armor etched with runes of the giant kingdom, Loki's mere presence was a statement of power and lineage.
Flanking him were two of his most trusted warriors, giants as formidable as they were loyal. Their solemn expressions and the way they moved—always a half-step behind Loki—spoke of unwavering allegiance. These were not mere companions but an entourage fit for royalty, their loyalty to Loki far surpassing the devotion they held even for the current king of Elbaf.
The air was heavy with tension, not from hostility but the sheer weight of history and potential. This meeting was not just a diplomatic encounter; it was an event that could reshape the relationship between Elbaf and Big Mom's empire.
The throne room was the crown jewel of Big Mom's palace, a space so immense that even the largest giants felt small within its bounds. The ceiling seemed to stretch endlessly upward, disappearing into the dim glow of chandeliers that glittered like constellations.
At the far end of the room sat Big Mom, her throne a grotesque monument to excess. Crafted from the finest confections—gleaming gold, creamy white chocolate, and candy so vibrant it seemed to glow—it was both a seat of power and a symbol of her insatiable hunger. Despite her throne's whimsical appearance, there was nothing playful about the aura she radiated.
Big Mom's figure loomed, her shadow cast long across the room. Her crazy bloodshot eyes sparkled with anticipation, and her broad grin revealed jagged teeth that gleamed like knives.
She radiated a barely contained lust that made even her children, who entered leading the giants, avert their gazes. This was a woman who had built an empire through fear and ferocity, and she relished every second of it.
When the giants entered the throne room, the air itself seemed to grow heavier. The tension was palpable as Loki strode forward, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. He showed no sign of intimidation, meeting Big Mom's gaze with the unshakable confidence of a prince who had nothing to prove.
"Mamamama! Finally, my long-lost brethren grace my halls!" Big Mom's voice boomed through the chamber, rich with manic glee. "Welcome to Whole Cake Island, Prince Loki of Elbaf! I've waited far too long for this moment!"
Big Mom's booming laughter echoed through the vast throne room, the sound reverberating like a storm rolling across a chaotic sea. But Loki remained unmoved, his strides slow and deliberate.
Each step radiated power and purpose, as if the weight of his presence alone could crush any defiance. His towering form reached the center of the room, where a resplendent candy throne awaited—a seat meticulously crafted to honor his stature, positioned directly opposite Big Mom's own imposing throne.
Behind him, his two warriors stopped with military precision, their movements synchronized as though they shared a single mind.
The glint of their weapons in the shimmering light wasn't accidental; it was a quiet, deliberate warning that these giants were not mere guests but emissaries of strength.
Loki's lips curled into a faint smirk as he lowered himself onto the candy throne with casual elegance. However, the moment his powerful arms rested on the throne's armrests, a sharp crack echoed.
The Haki-infused candy armrest splintered beneath his grip, shards scattering to the floor. For a brief moment, the room fell silent save for the soft tinkling of the candy pieces hitting the ground.
Loki scoffed involuntarily, a low sound that carried unmistakable mockery. His laughter wasn't loud, but its implications were deafening. He didn't bother hiding the amusement in his voice, his icy eyes glinting as he casually tossed the broken armrest aside.
Big Mom's eyes narrowed dangerously, her smile faltering into a tense frown. The shattered armrest was a symbolic blow, a blemish on the grandeur she had painstakingly prepared. Her sharp nails dug into her own throne, betraying her simmering fury.
This was her palace, her realm of control—how dare anyone, even a giant prince, mock her? Silently, she vowed to discover which of her children was responsible for this shoddy failure and punish them severely.
But as quickly as her fury appeared, it vanished, replaced by her signature maniacal grin. Her jagged teeth gleamed wickedly in the flickering light of the throne room, and her oppressive aura surged again, thick enough to suffocate weaker beings.
Loki leaned back comfortably in the throne, unfazed by the tension that hung in the air like a blade. His piercing gaze locked onto Big Mom, his every movement dripping with nonchalance. This was a prince who had grown up knowing power, wielding it as effortlessly as he breathed.
"Charlotte Linlin," Loki began, his deep voice resonating with authority. It sliced through the tension like a battle axe, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. "Your reputation precedes you. I trust that this meeting will be... mutually beneficial."
Big Mom's grin widened, her jagged teeth now bared in their full ferocity. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and menace. "Oh, it will be, my dear Loki," she replied, her voice thick with malice and promise. "It most certainly will be!"
The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their confrontation. It was more than a meeting of two titanic figures—it was the collision of ambitions, each seeking to twist the other's will to their own ends.
*****
The scent of sugar and baked goods filled the air as we strolled away from the pier and deeper into the heart of Whole Cake Island. The vibrant candy-themed surroundings seemed almost comical—a confectionery dream brought to life—but I couldn't help chuckling exaggeratedly.
"Ahh… so much candy. Just looking at all these sweets is giving me a toothache," I said with a theatrical sigh, making sure my voice carried a note of mock despair. My words hung in stark contrast to the leisurely, almost carefree pace I maintained, as though I hadn't just sunk three islands on my way here.
Katakuri, our guide, was anything but relaxed. His shoulders were tense, his sharp eyes darting around like a hawk's. For all I knew, he might even attack me if I sneezed too suddenly. Not that I was concerned—if anything, it was amusing to see him on edge.
Lucci walked beside me, ever the embodiment of focus and discipline; he carried a large backpack easily thrice his size. His sharp gaze never wavered, undistracted by the vibrant chaos of the island. Dora, however, was a stark contrast.
Her childlike excitement was palpable as she marveled at the sheer variety of beings and sights—so many different species and races bustling about in preparation for the evening's banquet. It was her first time on such a unique island, and she took in everything with wide-eyed wonder.
Unable to resist, Dora snapped off a large chunk of a candy-coated house, her teeth crunching loudly as she chewed with unabashed delight. Katakuri twitched. It was clear he wanted to yell at her not to destroy the buildings, but he held back, knowing I wouldn't lift a finger to stop her. After all, almost everything on Whole Cake Island was edible. Who was I to deny her a rare treat?
"Here, Rossh… you habe to try dish… it'sh sho good…" Dora managed, her garbled words barely decipherable with her mouth stuffed with sugary pastries. Bits of cake and crumbs sprayed from her mouth, landing haphazardly on the pathway as we walked.
I waved her off with a chuckle. "Don't blame me later if you end up with a stomachache, Dora."
My attention shifted to a long-necked tribesman who passed by, his head craning curiously in our direction. It seemed almost everyone we passed took a second glance. Whispers spread like wildfire.
They recognized Katakuri instantly, the towering figure of the Sweet Commander unmistakable. But their curiosity wasn't for him alone. For Katakuri to guide someone personally? That made me either important or dangerous. Possibly both.
The tension in the air thickened. Katakuri's stoic mask didn't falter, but I could sense his unease. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, as though he was escorting death itself through the streets of his beloved island. I decided to break the silence.
"It seems you're quite popular within your own territory, Katakuri," I remarked lightly, feigning ignorance of his discomfort. My voice carried just enough friendliness to bait a response, but not enough to ease his nerves.
Katakuri's jaw tightened slightly. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye but said nothing at first. It was clear he wasn't in the mood for small talk, but I wasn't one to let such golden opportunities slip by.
"Do they always stare like that? Or is it because I'm the special guest today?" I pressed, tilting my head to catch his reaction.
He exhaled slowly, his deep voice finally cutting through the sugary ambiance. "They're cautious. Anyone I guide personally is either someone we trust completely… or someone dangerous enough to warrant constant vigilance."
"And which am I?" I asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Katakuri's gaze hardened. "You already know the answer to that."
Dora, oblivious to the tension, happily gnawed on another chunk of edible architecture, oblivious to the delicate balance of fear and respect our presence invoked. Meanwhile, Lucci's silence was as sharp as a blade, his presence a reminder that any sudden move could lead to chaos; after all, we were in the heart of enemy territory.
As we walked, the vibrant world of Whole Cake Island buzzed around us. The streets—paved with caramel and lined with gingerbread—were alive with activity. Citizens hurried by, some carrying trays of sweets, others decorating for the evening's festivities. Yet, all the while, they stole cautious glances, their whispers blending with the melody of preparation.
For all its whimsy, the air was thick with tension. It was as if the island itself held its breath, waiting to see what would unfold next.
Katakuri hesitated for a moment, his usually unflinching demeanor faltering as he wrestled with the question gnawing at his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but steady.
"Are you sure you want to bring them along?" His sharp eyes flicked briefly toward Dora, who was still gleefully devouring a chunk of what had once been a charming candy clocktower, and then to Lucci, whose stoic presence was as unsettling as the expressionless mask he seemed to wear.
Katakuri's lips pressed into a thin line before he continued, a note of warning creeping into his tone. "After what you did, barging in here like this… you know Mama won't let you leave. Not unless you submit to her."
I turned my gaze to him, my easy smile fading into something sharper, something colder. "Ah, Katakuri, is that concern I hear? Or perhaps," my voice dropped, slicing through the air like a blade, "you're thinking about taking advantage of the situation? Hoping you can use them as hostages in case things go south?"
The subtle twitch in Katakuri's jaw and the brief flicker in his eyes were all the confirmation I needed. My words struck true, and I could feel the unease radiating from him like heat from a dying fire.
His instincts screamed at him, but what could he do? Except for Garp, Mihawk, and Doffy, few knew of my mastery of the Voice of All Things—an ability that, paired with my Observation Haki, allowed me to pluck thoughts as easily as picking fruit. Katakuri had unwittingly revealed his plan, and I had no intention of letting it slide.
He stopped midstep, his towering frame suddenly rigid. Before he could react, I leaned in, my tone turning dark and quiet, a whisper of thunder before the storm.
"I understand your desperation, Katakuri. You've seen my power. Perhaps Big Mom still dreams of toying with me, locked away in her palace, but you…" I let my words hang, cutting the air between us. "You know better."
Katakuri's expression froze, his legendary composure cracking ever so slightly. He wasn't guiding a pirate through his homeland—he was escorting death itself into Whole Cake Island, and his instincts screamed for him to act.
I took a step closer, my presence pressing down on him like an anchor. My voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unspoken promise. "Katakuri," I began, nudging him lightly to continue walking.
"You're a decent man. I'll give you that. But mark my words—if you harm even a single hair on their heads…" I gestured briefly to Dora and Lucci, who remained oblivious to the tension crackling like lightning. "I won't stop at Big Mom. I'll take the heads of anyone—anyone—who carries the name Charlotte."
My tone was velvet laced with steel, and the devil's whisper followed my words into Katakuri's heart. I saw the flicker of doubt, the momentary shadow of fear cross his face. For all his strength, for all his resolve, he dared not move. He knew that if it came to it, he couldn't stop me.
Not alone. Perhaps not even with Mama herself.
And so he didn't argue. He didn't fight. He let the weight of fate settle on his broad shoulders, silently hoping that Mama had a plan to counter this storm he had unwittingly brought into their home.
Katakuri kept walking, his steps careful, measured, though the tension in his frame betrayed the war raging inside him. His instincts screamed at him to act, but his reason held him in check. For now, all he could do was lead me to the heart of Whole Cake Island and hope the Charlotte Family's queen could face what was coming.
As for me? I simply walked with a smile curling my lips, the chaos I carried an inevitability on the wind. For now, I'd let Katakuri stew in his unease. The real storm was yet to come.