The one who fired the shot was still Maude.
This shot was aimed directly at Doflamingo's heart.
Under the suppressive force of Issho's gravity, the bullet should have pierced Doflamingo's heart without fail.
At that moment, Maude could have summoned the Hunter's Notebook and written Doflamingo's name before his life force completely faded.
However, the bullet that should have delivered a major payoff merely pierced Doflamingo's shoulder blade.
The reason was...
As the bullet neared him, Doflamingo unexpectedly relaxed his body, letting Issho's gravity press him downward.
This sudden adjustment caused the bullet, originally aimed at his heart, to strike his shoulder blade instead.
In such a dire situation, Doflamingo had pushed his reflexes to the limit, making the only move that could minimize his losses—a choice that, with a bit of luck, might have spared him from injury entirely.
The shot came with blinding speed.
Blood sprayed into the air from Doflamingo's wounded shoulder blade.
Issho frowned slightly, easing his gravity to give Doflamingo a sliver of breathing room.
Doflamingo, no fool, seized the opportunity to escape from the stalemate with Issho.
He couldn't grasp Issho's motives or actions, but the bullet wound left him with no interest in figuring it out.
Breaking free, Doflamingo retreated swiftly, putting as much distance as possible between himself and his opponents.
Then, his gaze locked onto Maude, who was calmly lowering his flintlock in the distance.
"Fufufu..."
The malicious laughter echoed in the open air.
Without a single word of venom, his cold, piercing gaze conveyed everything to Maude.
Maude returned Doflamingo's icy glare with an impassive expression, swiftly reloading his flintlock before pulling the trigger once more.
"Bang!"
Doflamingo's laughter halted abruptly as he dodged the shot with a sidestep.
Without Issho's suppressive assistance, hitting Doflamingo had become significantly more difficult.
Issho, observing Maude's relentless shooting, couldn't help but feel a tinge of helplessness.
"What a shame..."
Failing to take out Doflamingo with a surprise shot left Maude regretful. Nevertheless, he reloaded and continued firing, leveraging Issho's imposing presence to keep Doflamingo under pressure.
"..."
By this point, Doflamingo had stopped laughing. After narrowly avoiding a few more bullets, he retreated without looking back.
To any uninformed bystander witnessing this scene, it might appear as though Maude, armed with nothing but a flintlock, had driven Doflamingo into a hasty retreat.
As it happened, such bystanders arrived on the scene: a group of Marines led by Servis.
Approaching from another direction, they were just in time to witness Maude continuously firing at the fleeing Doflamingo.
Meanwhile, Doflamingo, dodging bullets, was making a rapid escape off the island.
"Isn't that... the Warlord Doflamingo?!"
"The one shooting... is Bacardi Maude!!!"
"What's going on here...?"
The Marines were utterly dumbfounded. Some were so shocked their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
The esteemed Warlord Doflamingo being driven to such a sorry state by Maude wielding a single flintlock? Who would believe such a thing?
But the scene before them left no room for doubt.
"This..."
Servis struggled to collect himself, his gaze shifting between Maude and the other Marines. His eyes lingered on Maude for a few seconds before settling on Issho.
"What exactly happened here?"
In the field.
Watching Doflamingo retreat out of his shooting range, Maude reluctantly holstered his flintlock.
The last few shots weren't fired with the hope of taking Doflamingo down; they were merely a final attempt to annoy him.
"Why hold back?"
Maude sheathed his rifle and silently regarded Issho's back.
From Maude's perspective, missing such an opportunity was unthinkable. In his view, even if the shot didn't land a fatal blow, it could have been the final straw to crush Doflamingo.
Yet Issho had chosen to give Doflamingo an opening to escape.
Had Maude not sensed Issho's unwillingness to take Doflamingo's life, he might have argued relentlessly to convince him to finish the job.
But the opportunity was lost.
What's done is done. Dwelling on it now would serve no purpose.
After Doflamingo's departure, Lafitte, Gaya, and the others did not let down their guard, casting wary glances at Issho.
Issho, ignoring their guarded expressions, slowly turned to "gaze" in Maude's direction.
"Young man, you're certainly ruthless."
"Just doing my part to rid the world of evil."
Maude's reply was nonchalant as he sheathed his sword, signaling he was done fighting.
"Ridding the world of evil, you say..."
Hearing the sound of Maude's sword being sheathed, Issho paused and then said calmly, "You may rest assured. I won't go after your lives anymore."
"Go after our lives? Old man, you've been holding back from the start, haven't you?"
Maude stared seriously at Issho. If not for Issho's restraint, he'd have already been a corpse.
Issho shook his head. "From the beginning, I never held back in my attacks. If your strength had been lacking, well..."
He trailed off with a faint chuckle that sent a chill down Maude and his crew's spines.
Reflecting on it, Issho's words rang true. Without the power to counter his meteors or gravity slashes, they'd have suffered a miserable end.
"Old man, letting us go so easily, won't you have trouble explaining to Marine Headquarters?"
"?"
Issho tilted his head slightly, puzzled.
Maude and his crew exchanged glances, taken aback.
That expression seemed to say: What does Marine Headquarters have to do with me?
"Old man, you're not a Marine yet?"
"I never introduced myself as such, nor claimed to be one."
Issho's calm reply carried no hint of deception.
"..."
Lafitte and the others stared at Issho with complex expressions.
Not a Marine?
Then surely not a bounty hunter driven by greed?
If so, why had he come for them so aggressively?
Maude rubbed his temples. Certain details were hazy in his memory. He only recalled Issho's rise three years later, when he became an Admiral.
Regardless, as long as Issho refrained from attacking them, nothing else mattered.
"Old man, so can we leave now?"
Maude looked at Issho, ready to depart no matter what.
Issho responded earnestly, "I'm afraid... not yet."
"Huh? Why not?"
The crew's expressions shifted slightly.
At that moment,
Servis and a group of Marines arrived on the scene.
Even with Issho—an awe-inspiring figure of immense power—present, they couldn't hide their unease. Their wary gazes fixated on Maude with an almost palpable dread.
Here stood the man whose infamous moniker, "The Butcher," had spread far and wide—a cold-blooded figure who had, with a single pistol, reduced Donquixote Doflamingo to such a pitiful state.
If he were to erupt in violence without warning, the consequences would be unimaginable.
This deep apprehension led many Marines to involuntarily conjure up terrifying scenarios in their minds.
In that instant, their gazes toward Maude carried a mixture of fear and caution.
Maude, however, was baffled. He furrowed his brows, regarding the uninvited guests with a hint of annoyance.
"Issho-san."
Servis addressed Issho with a tone of deep respect, using an honorific to convey his reverence.
This act caused Maude's group to narrow their eyes slightly, their expressions sharpening.
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