Chapter 1: The Inspection Team Has Arrived
Notes:
Fan translation of the Chinese web novel “The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History” (《海贼:海军史上最大败类》) by 马里奥吃鸡胸肉. All rights belong to the original author.
The original fanfic currently has over 900 chapters and is still ongoing—an epic journey that's wild, intense, and unforgettable.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Inspection Team Has Arrived
Sea Circle Calendar: Year 1492
(Approximately 30 years before the Summit War)
North Blue – Open Waters
The sun shone brightly across the vast ocean, and a cool sea breeze rippled gently over the surface.
A marine warship flying the pure white seagull insignia glided steadily over the waves. A massive sail bearing the bold black characters for "正義 (JUSTICE)"stretched from the towering mast.
"Gion... My dear Gion, I like you! Please accept my love!"
On the deck, a scruffy-looking Lieutenant Commander dropped into a flamboyant sliding kneel, dramatically holding out a bouquet of vivid red roses. His eyes shone earnestly as he gazed at the beauty before him.
In front of him stood a tall young woman with flowing black wavy hair. Draped over her shoulders was the white Justice cloak of a Lieutenant Commander from Marine Headquarters. She wore a pink camisole and tight shorts that revealed her long, pale, shapely legs.
"Lieutenant Commander Tokikake is so brave!" "Go for it, Tokikake!" "This time he might just succeed!"
Excited cheers broke out from the surrounding Marines. Someone tossed confetti, another blew a trumpet, and a third even fired a celebratory cannon.
A large banner fluttered in the wind: "Lieutenant Commander Tokikake's 38th Confession."
Spurred on by the raucous support behind him, Tokikake’s chest swelled with confidence. He flicked his oily hair dramatically and put on what he thought was his most charming smile.
"Gion! Accept my love! There’s no man in the world more outstanding than me!"
Gion: …
Her eye twitched. She exhaled lightly.
"Tokikake, you’re a good person… but we’re not compatible."
Suddenly, silence fell over the deck.
The trumpets, cheers, and cannons all ceased. Everyone stared at Tokikake, still kneeling with his bouquet, his back now appearing inexplicably lonely and pitiful.
"Poor Tokikake..." "He's confessed so many times already..." "Sigh..."
They began to approach him with sympathetic expressions, about to offer comfort—
Until Tokikake suddenly turned around, his face tear-streaked.
"Did you hear that?!"
He bit his lip, eyes watery.
"We heard you, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake..." "You don’t have to be so discouraged..." "That’s right, you’re a real man..."
They tried their best to comfort him.
"—Gion actually said I’m a good person!!"
Tokikake suddenly sprang to his feet. His teary eyes gleamed with determination, and his face flushed red with excitement.
"She acknowledged me! That means if I keep trying, maybe next time she’ll agree to go out with me!"
The Marines: …
Did she really mean that as a compliment...?
They exchanged awkward glances, faces stiff with forced smiles.
"Yeah, totally!" "Absolutely!" "She’s definitely coming around!"
"I knew it!!" Tokikake cheered, fists clenched.
"She’s testing my patience! I finally understand your deep intentions, Gion!!"
He turned around, smiling lecherously:
"You really don’t need to test me anymore—we’ve known each other so long. Don’t you already know my feelings for you? Come on, give me a kiss..."
He puckered his lips and leaned toward her.
BAM!!
A second later, Tokikake flew backward like a cannonball, crashing into the mast and sliding down like a sack of wet rice.
Bright red blood poured from his nose, and he twitched on the deck.
The Marines calmly put away their props and returned to their duties as if nothing had happened.
With the farce concluded, Gion massaged her temple and sighed.
She turned her gaze back to the document in her hands — a Marine dossier.
Name: Rogers Darren
Age: 19
Origin: North Blue (orphan)
Position: Base Commander of Marine 321st Branch, North Blue
Rank: Captain
Devil Fruit: Suspected metal-manipulation type; specifics unknown
Assessment: Highly ambitious, decisive and ruthless, unorthodox behavior, commands significant influence in North Blue. Exceptional potential. Candidate for Officer Training Program.
Note: Serious issues regarding personal conduct.
Beneath the notes were line after line of pirate suppression reports and military commendations.
Attached was a photo from the Marine Photography Division.
Gion glanced at it lazily, her black gem-like eyes glinting slightly.
The man in the photo had deep black eyes and hair, strong features, and an intense gaze. A wild, untamed charisma radiated from him.
"This guy’s kinda handsome. Almost enough to rival me," Tokikake muttered, limping over with tissues stuffed in his nose.
"So this Darren guy is our inspection target?"
Gion fought the urge to punch him again and replied flatly:
"Yes. This man has a firm grip on North Blue. He’s practically its uncrowned king. Intelligence suggests connections to underground syndicates, mafias, and even secret dealings with multiple kingdoms."
"According to Vice Admiral Tsuru, Darren is extremely dangerous and competent."
"We’re here not only to award him honors—but to conduct an inspection."
"Also, this is my mission. Why did you tag along?"
She glared at Tokikake, who smirked shamelessly.
"Where you go, I go."
He chuckled, then muttered, "Still, he’s just a Captain. Is he really worth all this fuss from Tsuru?"
Tsuru—Vice Admiral and Great Staff Officer of Marine HQ—was a pillar of justice in the world.
Her scrutiny was usually reserved for figures like Whitebeard, Golden Lion, or Roger himself.
"He may outrank me for now," Gion thought, "but that’s only because I haven’t had the chance to accumulate battlefield merit yet. Once I start taking missions, I’ll surpass him easily."
"No," Gion said aloud. "If Tsuru said so, there’s a reason."
Tokikake's eyes sparkled. "So if we find something suspicious, are we taking action?"
He cracked his knuckles, clearly eager for a fight.
For some reason, just looking at Darren’s picture made him want to punch the guy.
Definitely not because he was better looking.
"No. We’re just reporting back to HQ."
Gion closed the file and turned to the sea. The wind caught her hair.
She remembered Tsuru’s instructions and all the rumors she’d heard about Darren...
North Blue—the most chaotic of the Four Blues.
As her thoughts drifted, a fortified military base slowly emerged from the mist ahead.
"We’re almost there," Gion said softly.
The lookout’s bugle blared from the warship.
From the distance, another bugle answered—from Marine 321st Branch.
"Prepare for disembarkation," she commanded.
The warship docked at the port.
Rows of heavily armed Marines stood in a strict formation, exuding a deadly aura.
"These North Blue Marines... they’re not ordinary," Tokikake muttered, observing them closely.
Though 321st Branch was North Blue’s largest and strongest, the Four Blues were notorious for having lower standards than HQ.
Yet these soldiers radiated discipline and intensity. Their eyes were sharp. Their weapons top-grade.
"Something’s not right... That Darren guy actually trained them to this level?"
Gion and Tokikake exchanged glances, each seeing the same suspicion in the other’s eyes.
"Salute!" a young Lieutenant Commander stepped forward from the formation.
At his order, all Marines saluted in unison.
Gion and Tokikake returned the gesture and stepped off the ship.
"Lieutenant Commander Momonga. A pleasure to meet you," Gion said.
She studied the man with dark purple hair and a stern face. Her memory aligned with the intelligence:
Momonga – Lieutenant Commander, Deputy Commander of 321st Branch, right-hand man to Rogers Darren.
Momonga shook her hand firmly. "Welcome, Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake. Thank you for coming."
Though equal in rank, officers from HQ carried higher authority, and thus respect was expected.
"No need for formality—we’re colleagues," Gion said with a smile. Her gaze swept the area.
"Where is Captain Darren?"
Momonga hesitated. "The base commander... is still occupied."
Occupied?
Gion raised an eyebrow. Her eyes caught a luxurious royal vessel docked nearby, adorned with colorful ribbons and a kingdom’s flag.
"That’s... the royal ship of the Kingdom of Yadis?"
She recognized the flag and her expression turned ice-cold.
Rumors of Darren’s depravity and womanizing echoed in her mind.
That ship was clearly feminine in design. Its owner...
No way—
A bad feeling churned in her gut. She clenched her teeth and strode forward, bypassing Momonga.
Her mind was flooded with all the scandalous rumors about Rogers Darren—corruption, lust, and moral decay.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Author's Note:
This story continues to explore the world of One Piece from the Marine’s perspective—pure, unfiltered, and without systems or cheats.
Also, keep in mind, the protagonist’s sense of justice in this book isn’t the pure kind.
As always, thank you for reading!
Chapter Text
Chapter 2 – Sea of Chaos, Degenerate Marine
Darren awoke on a soft, luxurious bed.
With a high-bridged nose, eyes deep as starlight, brows sharp as blades, and tousled black hair, his whole look radiated unruly charisma.
He slowly rose. His bare upper body was covered in gruesome scars, wild muscle contours enhancing his feral appeal.
In short—he was devastatingly handsome.
“Lord Darren, you're awake?” came a sweet, sultry voice from beneath the sheets.
A mature, alluring face peeked out, followed by curves that defied censorship.
The woman’s dewy eyes gazed longingly at the tall man by the window, her expression full of satisfaction—thoroughly conquered.
She had never met such a man—feral, domineering, untamed.
Though it had been her first time, due to her husband’s preference for men, this wild stranger had given her pleasure beyond imagination.
Darren stepped to the window, picked up a premium cigar from a crystal table, lit it with practiced ease, and exhaled slowly.
“Mm. Go back to sleep, darling.”
Though he called her "darling," she was just another fleeting conquest in his hunt for beauty.
He’d forget her soon enough.
Though, admittedly, this noblewoman had been quite enjoyable.
He casually threw on a loose white shirt, chest still bare, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and picked up the morning paper.
“Infamous pirate 'World Destroyer' Byrnndi World sinks World Government ship. Celestial Dragons outraged. 200 million bounty placed! Wald Pirates now deemed top threat!”
“Gol D. Roger sails again! Last sighted in the weakest of the Four Seas—East Blue!”
“Golden Lion Shiki recruits in the New World, aiming to build the largest pirate fleet ever!”
“Kaido and Charlotte Linlin clash in the New World. A small island is wiped off the map!”
“...”
Headline after headline flashed before Darren’s eyes, each more explosive than the last. He narrowed his gaze.
“What a wild era...”
He folded the paper, took a sip of whiskey, and lit another gold-embossed cigar.
The rich smoke stirred his senses as he sank into thought.
Yes—Darren was a transmigrator.
But unlike others, he had no system, no cheat codes. His only advantage was a strange merger of souls, granting him uncanny control over his body—far beyond normal human limits.
He had crossed into this pirate-filled world five years ago, starting as a bottom-ranked Marine. Climbing to his current position hadn’t been easy.
The North Blue—though outside the Grand Line—was the most chaotic and violent of the Four Blues. No peace like East Blue, no wealth like West Blue, no stability like South Blue.
It was full of mafia wars, underground strife, endless conflicts between kingdoms, and rampant pirates.
A nightmare for any Marine.
From a nameless recruit to commander of 321st Branch and now awaiting official commendation from HQ, Darren had survived countless trials, betrayals, and bloodshed—most of which he couldn’t even remember.
But the scars on his body told the story.
It was precisely because he knew how hard-fought his path was that Darren lived so indulgently.
After all, this was the year 1492 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
The Valley of the Gods Incident had ended just a few years ago, and global order was in chaos—
Roger hadn’t yet completed his grand journey.
Shiki was still dreaming of ocean domination.
Whitebeard was still out collecting “sons.”
Kaido hadn’t become “that suicidal dragon.”
Big Mom still had a figure and was hunting stallions.
Shanks was just a trainee, Buggy hadn’t risen, and Luffy wasn’t even born.
This was an age without Yonko, without the Warlords, full of chaos and bloodshed.
Even the Marines—a favorite class for transmigrators—was still a job where your life dangled by a thread.
Darren never knew if today might be his last. So he lived fully.
He’d crossed worlds—why live miserably?
Even as a Marine, he refused to be some poor dog of justice.
Drink the best liquor. Smoke the strongest cigars. Sleep with the most beautiful women.
That was his philosophy.
Degeneracy? Corruption? Reputation?
He wasn’t a pirate. What use was reputation?
In the North Blue Marines, good reputation didn’t get you promoted.
Look at his former bosses—Borsalino and Sakazuki—both from the North Blue too.
Not exactly saints.
Yet now they were HQ elites, graduates of the officer training camp, and future Admirals in the making.
Of course, fun aside, Darren was deadly serious about improving his strength. He applied the same strict standards to training as he did to women.
He adjusted his breathing, sharpening his focus inward.
The soul fusion had granted him a special ability—hyper-precise bodily perception.
After years of experimentation, he developed a way to quantify his condition—personal stats—comparing himself to real-world examples like Sengoku and other Admirals.
Unbelievable as it sounded, if he could transmigrate, this wasn’t too far-fetched.
Personal Attributes:
Physique: 58.103
Strength: 53.831
Speed: 57.539
Devil Fruit: 71.345
Physique measured durability, vitality, endurance.
Strength was raw power and explosive force.
Speed was movement and short-distance bursts.
Devil Fruit measured his control over his Devil Fruit.
The reference scale was out of 100.
For instance, Kaido—“the world’s strongest creature”—was likely 90 in Physique, given how only advanced Haki could even hurt him.
“Hmph, physique improved by 0.03,” Darren muttered, smiling.
His hunch was right.
After a two-hour conquest the previous night and a refreshing sleep, his body had clearly grown stronger.
It made sense.
Back on Earth, moderate physical “activity” raised testosterone and dopamine, boosting muscle growth.
0.03 might seem small, but every bit added up. Even a mosquito has meat.
This was how Darren had discovered the optimal ways to train and grow stronger—through precise feedback from his own body.
Just then—
Swish!
The door was suddenly sliced open by a flash of swordlight.
A tall woman with flowing black hair stormed in, her expression cold as ice, eyes blazing with fury.
“Captain Darren! You command 321st Branch of the North Blue—how dare you do this inside a Marine base?! Have you no shame?!”
In her hand gleamed a golden katana.
Gion glanced at the trembling woman hiding beneath the sheets. Her gaze burned with outrage.
Then she spat out a line that left the man behind her, Tokikake, staring in stunned silence:
“That woman is the governor’s wife—of the Kingdom of Yadis!!”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Author’s Note (Reminder):
Since this story spans a long timeline—from the Roger Era to the Summit War—many characters appear in their younger, less developed forms.
Expect to see:
A young Dragon, not yet a revolutionary.
Gion, devoted to pure justice.
A naïve Tokikake.
A righteous Aokiji still burning with “justice.”
Ambitious young Crocodile...
They’ll all grow in time. Trust me—I’ll shape them well.
---
Translator’s Note:
When the author said, “They’ll grow. Trust me—I’ll shape them well,” I thought it was just a promise.
But chapter by chapter, I’ve watched that promise take root and bloom.
Every line, every choice—nothing is random. These characters are being shaped with patience, precision, and purpose.
And since you’re here reading this now, you’re already part of that journey.
So come a little further. Let’s witness it together—the rise of legends before they were legends, the making of monsters, the quiet unraveling of justice.
This isn’t just a retelling of One Piece.
It’s a reawakening of everything that made us love it.
Stick with us. It only gets better from here.
Chapter 3: I'm Just Caring for the People
Chapter Text
Chapter 3 – I'm Just Caring for the People
“That woman is the governor’s wife—from the Kingdom of Yadis!!”
As the words left Gion’s mouth, a flush of shame and fury colored her cheeks.
Darren—this damn degenerate—had done something so indecent within a Marine base. For Gion, who had grown up at headquarters under the guidance of Great Staff Officer Tsuru and her teachings of “pure justice,” this was utterly intolerable.
Let alone the fact that she was here on official business—as part of a special inspection team from Marineford.
If word of this ever got out, it would deal a severe blow to the reputation of the Marines!
Darren… was a stain on justice.
Yet the man responsible didn’t look the least bit guilty. He simply smiled—confident and charming—as he stood up slowly.
“Oh? If it isn’t Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, all the way from Marineford. You’ve traveled far.”
A cigar between his lips, Darren extended a hand with bold casualness.
“Welcome to the North Blue. Welcome to 321st Branch.”
Gion stared him down icily, making no move to return the handshake.
Darren didn’t mind in the slightest. He merely shrugged and plucked another cigar from a nearby case, offering it to Tokikake, who had been peeking around curiously.
“Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, I’ve heard of you.”
Tokikake’s eyes lit up when he saw the cigar. The golden-embossed band marked it as an exclusive import from the West Blue—noble-grade.
He instinctively reached for it—but caught Gion’s fiery glare and instantly withdrew his hand, chuckling awkwardly.
“Hey, Darren… is that really the governor’s wife?”
He asked in a hushed tone.
Darren gave no reply, only smiling.
Tokikake inhaled sharply through his teeth.
Beast.
He cursed silently.
He’d seen Lady Marguerite—mature, graceful, seductively refined—and yet this bastard had somehow scored with her?!
Unbelievable. Tokikake couldn't help but think: I’m better looking—why don't I ever get this lucky?!
And she wasn’t just some noblewoman. She was a governor’s wife!
The sheer audacity…
Clenching his teeth, Tokikake muttered, “Captain Darren… this kind of conduct… isn’t exactly great, you know.”
There was more than a little jealousy in his tone.
Gion shot Tokikake a scolding glare before turning toward the bed and bowing deeply to the woman still hiding under the covers.
“My deepest apologies, Lady Marguerite. This is a failing on our part as Marines.”
“I am Lieutenant Commander Gion, part of the inspection unit sent from Marine HQ. Please rest assured—we will thoroughly investigate Captain Darren’s misconduct and ensure he is held accountable.”
Silently, Gion made a vow: she would report this disgrace back to HQ. The Marine Corps must not harbor someone like Darren!
Just then, Lady Marguerite cautiously peeked out from beneath the blanket. Her eyes drifted toward Darren, who stood calmly smoking his cigar. A faint blush lit her cheeks as she said in a soft, sweet voice:
“Um… Lieutenant Commander Gion… actually… I volunteered.”
“I… really like Captain Darren.”
Gion froze in place.
Tokikake’s jaw dropped.
They had assumed Darren had used power or coercion to force Lady Marguerite into this.
But this… this was mutual consent?
Wait a minute.
They both recalled the government ship moored at the port.
This was… was this room-service?
“Well then,” Darren said cheerfully. “Our guests from headquarters—let’s not disturb this lovely lady’s rest any longer.”
He slipped on a crisp, clean uniform, threw his cloak over his shoulders, and gestured toward the door.
“Shall we continue this conversation in my office?”
---
321st Branch – Base Commander’s Office
A large plaque hung on the grey wall behind Darren’s desk, bearing the boldly brushed word: Justice.
Darren sat at the head seat without hesitation, lighting another cigar as he asked casually:
“So, Lieutenant Commander Gion, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake—do you bring good news? Has my appointment finally come through?”
As he spoke, his sharp gaze swept across the two officers before him.
This was the first time, since transmigrating, that he had met these two future "Admiral candidates."
Gion stood tall and graceful, long legs smooth and strong, her figure lean and toned.
Her long black hair was tied in a high ponytail, and the crisp Marine cloak flowed over her shoulders. Her jet-black eyes shone with righteous fire.
A beauty mark by her lip gave her a subtle, seductive charm.
She looked younger than her anime counterpart—perhaps 18 or 19—but already carried hints of her future allure.
Tokikake, on the other hand… was a mess.
With a cigarette in his mouth and both hands stuffed in his pockets, he stood with a slouch, constantly stealing glances at the cigars on the desk. He looked utterly shady.
Despite being just around twenty, he had the aura of a weathered man in his forties—tired, unkempt, prematurely aged.
Typical sons of high-ranking officers… Darren mused.
Tokikake's background was humble enough.
But Gion? A true "second generation elite."
Her talent was incredible, and her background ridiculous.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, the Great Staff Officer herself, treated her like a younger sister. Admiral Sengoku personally mentored her. She’d been raised under the wings of Marine legends.
Even “Hero of the Marines” Garp was casually referred to as “Little Garp” in her presence.
What kind of favoritism was that?
Some people are just born lucky…
Darren had clawed his way up from the very bottom for years to reach Captain.
Gion? Her first field assignment—and she started as a Lieutenant Commander.
Worse yet, it was obvious that Gion and Tokikake’s trip to the North Blue was more of a formality than anything.
After a few months, they'd go back to HQ, a padded résumé in hand, ready for Zephyr’s officer training program—one step away from the core of Marine leadership.
Nothing enviable about it—just reality.
Still, they were young—idealistic, proud, and unseasoned. That much was clear.
As if to prove it, Gion gave a sharp snort and produced an official envelope.
“Congratulations, Captain Darren. As of this moment, you are now the top commanding officer of the North Blue.”
Darren opened the document.
---
Official Appointment Letter
Effective immediately,
Captain Rogers Darren, Base Commander of Marine 321st Branch, is hereby appointed as
Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines.
---
He smiled in satisfaction.
The title of Supreme Commander was a formal position unique to the Four Blues outside the Grand Line. It wasn’t a military rank—Darren’s official rank remained Captain—but the power it conferred was immense.
Each of the Blues—North, South, East, and West—had a single Supreme Commander who held absolute authority over all Marine bases and justice operations within their waters. They reported directly to Marineford and were, without question, the highest power in their seas.
In practice, this piece of paper changed little—Darren already was the North Blue’s ruler.
But even so, formal recognition still mattered.
Besides, who but Garp would complain about gaining more power?
With this title, he could act even more freely.
So... Sakazuki kept his promise, Darren thought.
“Thanks for your trouble,” he said aloud, flashing a wide grin. “How long will you two be stationed here?”
Gion replied coolly, “Up to six months, as few as three—it depends on the inspection.”
“Captain Darren, for the sake of confidentiality, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake and I will be operating under cover during the inspection. Officially, we’re your adjutants.”
“No problem,” Darren replied. “Then I’ll be in your care, Gion.”
At this time, the Marine officer training program hadn’t yet become the full academy it would later be. It followed a bootcamp model, selecting the most elite from each sea for centralized training.
As such, the screening process for candidates was extremely strict—and Darren was now under it.
If he passed, he’d join the elite corps under former Admiral Black Arm Zephyr, where he would learn Rokushiki, even Haki, and become a true powerhouse.
And with that experience, he’d gather the political capital to soar even higher.
He turned to Tokikake and offered him another cigar.
“Looking forward to working with you too, Tokikake.”
Tokikake eyed the gold-labeled cigar—he’d never smoked something this good, not even at HQ. Suddenly, the cheap tobacco in his mouth tasted like ash.
“Hey… Gion…”
He gave her a pitiful glance.
Gion rolled her eyes.
“Fine. Take it.”
“Hell yeah.”
Tokikake lit the cigar eagerly, puffing with exaggerated delight.
Then Gion’s tone abruptly turned icy.
“Captain Darren, you still owe us an explanation for what happened earlier.”
“Even if Lady Marguerite was… willing, your actions reflect terribly on the Marines and our internal discipline.”
“Given her status as a governor’s wife, this could have caused a serious diplomatic incident.”
Tokikake perked up at that, watching Darren with interest.
Let’s see how you talk your way out of this one…
He’d known Gion for years and understood her well.
Under Tsuru’s influence, her view of justice was pristine. Unforgiving.
Let’s see you squirm now, Darren.
Also… damn, this cigar is good.
Darren responded with an utterly innocent look.
“Gion, do I even need to explain? Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’m just… caring for the people. Civilian–military cooperation, you know?”
“Pffff—”
Tokikake nearly choked on his cigar, coughing violently as his face turned red.
He stared at Darren in shock.
Ca… caring for the people?
Civilian–military cooperation?!
This… this…
This… actually kinda makes sense?!
Why hadn’t he ever thought of such a brilliant excuse—no, reason?!
---
To be continued…
Chapter Text
Chapter 4 – I’m Actually a Good Marine
“DARREN!!”
Gion glared at the new North Blue Commander, legs crossed and smirking, with such rage that her clenched teeth nearly cracked. Her chest rose and fell with barely contained fury.
Even before coming to the North Blue, she’d heard countless rumors about this man.
Lustful. Corrupt. Abusive of power. Immoral. Cronyistic. Tied to shady nobles, business leaders—and even the mafia and underground organizations.
She had mentally prepared herself for disappointment.
But never—never—had she imagined a Marine could fall this far from justice!
Those vile, indecent, downright obscene acts—how had he managed to spin them as “caring for the people” and “civilian-military cooperation”!?
Gion could no longer hear those phrases without wanting to retch.
“Where’s your sense of justice?! Does that cloak on your back mean nothing to you? Has military discipline lost all meaning?!”
She unleashed a furious triple volley.
“What you’re doing doesn’t just damage your own image—it brings shame to the entire Marine Corps!”
To reinforce her point, she turned to Tokikake.
“Back me up here—am I wrong, Tokikake?!”
“...Caring for the people... who knew it could be so... caring... That’s genius—uh, yes! You’re absolutely right, Gion!”
Snapping out of his daze, Tokikake sat up straight and slammed his hand on the desk with righteous fury.
“Darren! You’re a disgrace to the Marines!”
Darren gave him a half-smile.
“So… you’re saying you wouldn’t do the same, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake?”
“Of course I w—wait, no! What I mean is, I care about the people too!”
Tokikake’s face turned red as he stammered.
Darren chuckled, blowing out a slow, curling stream of smoke. His eyes landed calmly on Gion’s flushed, furious face.
“This was a consensual affair. Lady Marguerite is happy, I’m happy—sounds like a win-win to me.”
Win-win, my ass!
Gion could hardly contain her rage.
“You think the governor of Yadis would be happy?! Do you even understand the political consequences if this came to light?!”
“Who says Governor Tyril wouldn’t be happy?” Darren replied, smiling.
Gion froze.
Tokikake’s jaw fell open.
An unthinkable idea entered both their minds at the same time...
Could it be...
Darren casually tapped the ash from his cigar and continued:
“And besides—this isn’t exactly a hidden affair. I’m not covering anything up. You two know. HQ knows.”
“But have you ever asked yourselves… why hasn’t anyone from HQ ever tried to impeach me? Why hasn’t Admiral Sengoku questioned me even once?”
He stood up, placing one hand firmly on the table and leaning forward. His presence shifted—oppressive, cold, dominating.
Gion and Tokikake felt a chill run down their spines as his grin vanished.
Looking down at the two “elite officers” from Marineford, Darren said quietly:
“Because I get things done.”
“You say I’m damaging the Marines’ image? Then tell me—how's the image of the top officers in Marineford?”
The room fell silent.
They recalled:
Vice Admiral Garp, snoring and digging his nose at meetings.
Admiral Sengoku, chatting with goats and acting half-crazed.
Sakazuki and Borsalino, the two “monsters” of their generation.
One brutally executed pirates, even if civilians got caught in the crossfire.
The other strolled around saying “How scary~” like nothing mattered.
Suddenly... the "Marine image" didn’t seem so clean after all.
No—wait!
Gion snapped out of it. She wasn’t about to let Darren’s twisted logic win.
But just as she opened her mouth, Darren waved a hand.
“That’s enough. I’ve got training to do.”
“If you’d like, feel free to join me on the drill field.”
“If either of you has a problem with how I do things—then let’s settle it properly. I’m happy to spar with elite officers from HQ.”
He stubbed out his cigar, tossed a fresh box toward Tokikake, and strode out of the office.
Just before he stepped through the doorway, he paused.
“Oh, one more thing.”
He turned back with a playful smirk.
“I drink, smoke, chase women, crave power, love money, and enjoy killing.”
“But I still believe I’m a good Marine.”
“Compared to those so-called men of virtue who do nothing and amount to nothing—I’m a far better choice.”
With a wave of his hand and a grin on his face, Darren disappeared down the hall as the door slowly closed behind him.
Gion and Tokikake sat there frozen.
After a long silence, Gion suddenly snapped back to life.
“That bastard! There’s no way I’m buying into that twisted logic!”
She gritted her teeth and yanked out a military den-den mushi.
Tokikake looked up, half hiding the cigar box under his cloak.
“Uh… Gion? What’re you doing?”
“I’m reporting Darren’s misconduct to HQ!”
The den-den mushi rang once, then connected.
“Brru~!”
“Ahahaha! Little Gion! You made it to the North Blue safely? How’s the place treating you?”
Sengoku’s cheerful voice came through as the den-den mushi morphed to mimic his face—complete with seagull hat and round glasses.
“Reporting in, Admiral Sengoku. I’ve arrived at 321st Branch.”
“But during the inspection, I discovered that Captain Darren’s conduct is… utterly inappropriate—serious enough to harm the reputation of the Marines and even spark a political crisis!”
---
Her voice was tight with rage.
“Oh?” Sengoku responded, curious.
“What sort of conduct? Darren always struck me as quite capable…”
Capable?
That word—combined with Darren’s “caring for the people” excuse—made Gion's face go crimson.
She opened her mouth to speak… but the words caught in her throat.
Tokikake, however, snatched the snail and roared into it:
“He slept with the governor’s wife of the Kingdom of Yadis!!”
Sengoku: …
Back in Marineford Headquarters…
Sengoku sat at his desk, hand on forehead, the den-den mushi showing Tokikake’s righteous fury in full display:
“Admiral Sengoku, I strongly recommend disciplinary action against that bastard Darren!”
“She’s a governor’s wife, damn it! Beautiful, mature, charming—”
Sengoku’s eyebrow twitched.
Okay sure—disciplinary action is one thing. But why the hell are you describing her looks in detail!?
“Ah. So that’s what this is about,” he muttered.
Gion and Tokikake blinked.
“Wait—‘ah’?! That’s it?!”
“Admiral Sengoku… you don’t seem too concerned…” Gion said, clearly displeased.
Sengoku scratched his head and sighed.
“Gion, there’s a lot you don’t know. That kid Darren, yes—he’s problematic. Your mentor Tsuru and I both know it well.”
“This isn’t even the first time.”
“Tsuru’s desk overflows with complaints and reports about Darren. The stack’s practically a mountain.”
“Things like this? I’ve seen hundreds. Maybe even a thousand.”
Tokikake’s jaw dropped. He trembled.
Hundreds? No—thousands?!
That many noblewomen? That many “civ-mil collaborations”?!
Monster.
He took a deep drag on his cigar.
Gion was equally shocked.
“Then why would you still promote him to North Blue Commander? If this keeps up, he’ll throw the entire region into chaos!”
Sengoku sighed again.
She’s still too young…
“Gion, do you have a fax machine nearby?”
She glanced around. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m sending you something. Read it, then destroy it.”
The machine whirred to life. Pages printed out.
“This is Darren’s performance report—what he submitted when applying for the North Blue post. It covers his record over the past two years as commander of 321st Branch.”
Gion and Tokikake looked at each other, then flipped through the pages.
As they read, their eyes grew wider and wider.
“You see now?” Sengoku’s voice was calm.
“The North Blue is the most chaotic of the four seas. A long mafia history, high crime rates, and black market routes running through the Grand Line.”
“Countless wars between nations. And Germa 66 constantly trying to reclaim their old glory.”
“But during Darren’s tenure? Crime plummeted. Pirate activity dropped. Mafia factions kept to themselves. Kingdoms stopped warring. Civilian life improved across the board.”
“This is the most stable era in the North Blue’s modern history.”
Gion blinked. “But what about Rear Admirals Borsalino and Sakazuki? They were assigned here too, right? Are you saying Darren did better than them?”
She looked doubtful.
Sengoku sighed even harder.
“Gion… you don’t know those two well enough.”
“Borsalino? Unless HQ personally ordered him to act, he did nothing. Pirate activity got worse. Eventually, we had to transfer him.”
“Sakazuki?” Gion asked next.
Sengoku rubbed his temples.
“He went full iron-fist justice—ignored political sensitivities and civilian safety. Flattened entire towns in pursuit of pirates.”
“In the end, over ten allied nations filed formal complaints and demanded his removal.”
Gion: …
Tokikake: …
Sengoku continued, exhausted.
“Put simply—only Darren has been able to manage the delicate balance in the North Blue.”
“Unlike you two, raised in comfort at HQ, Darren is a local. He rose from nothing. That alone says a lot.”
“He’s efficient, powerful, ruthless when needed, and smooth when it counts. He commands respect from both sides of the law.”
“And get this—both Sakazuki and Borsalino supported his promotion.”
“That endorsement alone says more than anything I could.”
His tone softened now, almost like an elder advising juniors.
“You two, especially you Gion—your understanding of justice is still very... textbook.”
“Tsuru and I sent you to the North Blue to broaden your perspective.”
“Darren may be cunning, but he’s smart. You’ll learn more from being around him than you ever would staying at HQ.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Translator's Note:
“Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines” is often shortened to “North Blue Commander.” Both mean the same thing—it’s just a matter of tone.
Chapter 5: Hmm, Let’s Spar a Bit
Chapter Text
Chapter 5 – Hmm, Let’s Spar a Bit
The call with HQ cut off.
Inside the vast base commander’s office, only two young officers remained—Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake—staring at one another in stunned silence.
Raised in Marineford under the care of countless mentors and taught the purest ideals of justice, they had never imagined that someone as corrupt and degenerate as Darren could receive such praise from Admiral Sengoku—a man they deeply respected.
Even harder to believe was that Sakazuki and Borsalino, the two monstrous geniuses of their generation—each with vastly different and often clashing ideals—had both endorsed Darren’s abilities and leadership.
That… made no sense.
“…How… how is this even possible…?”
Gion muttered, her expression dazed and her mind in disarray.
Everything that had happened since arriving in the North Blue had struck her innocent, idealistic sense of justice like a battering ram.
Click.
The snap of a lighter startled her out of her thoughts.
“Tokikake! Are you seriously lighting one of his cigars!?”
She turned to see him casually puffing one of Darren’s prized cigars. Her fury reignited instantly.
Tokikake flinched under her frostbitten glare, voice trembling.
“W-Well… Admiral Sengoku did tell us to learn from Darren, didn’t he…?”
Gion: “…”
“You think he meant smoking, drinking, and chasing women?! That’s what you’re learning?!”
Gritting her teeth, she stormed toward him.
Tokikake scrambled to hide the cigar but mumbled under his breath:
“…I mean, those things don’t seem so bad. You can be a good Marine and still enjoy life…”
“What was that?!”
“I-I said you’re absolutely right, Gion!”
“…”
“No. I can’t accept this,” Gion declared, rising to her feet, resolve burning in her eyes like polished steel.
Clenching her fists tightly, she proclaimed:
“Justice must remain pure—it cannot coexist with filth!”
“I’ll stay here and reform that degenerate Darren! I’ll help him see the light of true justice!”
“I won’t allow his twisted, rebellious version of justice to corrupt the Marines of the North Blue!”
Tokikake, still seated, covered his face with a sigh.
In his mind, though…
Civilian-military cooperation… Caring for the people…
“Hehehe…”
Whatever he was imagining, it made him chuckle like a creep.
“Stop giggling like an idiot! Get to the training grounds!”
Gion shot him a glare sharper than her blade.
“Huh? Training grounds? Already? We just got here—shouldn’t we rest first?” Tokikake complained.
Gion’s hand dropped to the golden hilt at her waist, eyes gleaming cold and sharp.
“That bastard Darren said he wanted to spar, didn’t he?”
Her voice was calm, but the fire in her tone burned.
“I’d like to see for myself whether this so-called North Blue Commander truly earned his title.”
Pride and fire flared in her heart. She was a prodigy of Marineford—and she wouldn’t let that bastard get away without proving himself.
---
321st Branch
Training Grounds
The sky was bright. The sea breeze blew sharp and cold.
Dust swirled across the vast training field.
Weapon racks lined the edges—maces, greatswords, naginata, and more, all neatly arranged. Not far off stood dozens of stone targets for practice. Beyond them were rows of old cannons and, in one corner, a decommissioned, battered warship.
Many of the Marines from Branch 321 were already engaged in their regular drills, but their eyes kept flicking toward the center of the field—drawn by a single man.
Darren, bare-chested and wearing only his black Marine trousers, was in the center of the grounds, doing one-finger push-ups.
"1,997… 1,998… 1,999… 2,000..."
Switching to his left hand, he began again.
"1, 2, 3, 4…"
Each motion was steady, precise, and deeply controlled. Every rep lowered all the way to the ground—his form near perfect, rhythmic, almost artistic.
His defined, explosive muscles gleamed with sweat, his wild and untamed presence radiating like a predator on the prowl.
He looked like a jungle cat—dangerous, controlled, coiled with power.
This was the scene that greeted Gion and Tokikake as they arrived.
“…Didn’t expect him to train this seriously,” Gion muttered. Though her anger still burned, she couldn’t help but acknowledge it.
Most Marines stationed in the Four Blues were far from HQ, and discipline was usually lax. Training, even more so. Outside of occasional surprise inspections from HQ, many branches treated drills as a formality.
But this man, who lived so decadently in every other aspect, was brutal in training himself.
“Tch, nothing special…” Tokikake scoffed, hands stuffed in his pockets, feigning boredom.
But in truth, even he was shaken.
They watched a little longer as Darren finished another 2,000 push-ups with his left hand.
Then he stood, clapped the dust from his hands, and turned toward them with a smile.
“You’ve come. Want to join me for a little workout?”
In the sunlight, sweat ran down his sharp jawline and over his sculpted torso. His chiseled frame glistened under the morning sun, and combined with that confident smirk, the sheer visual impact was undeniable.
Nearby, several female Marines who had snuck over to watch let out audible sighs. Stars and hearts practically sparkled in their eyes.
Even Gion blinked.
So that’s why Lady Marguerite was so captivated…
Not that she was that shallow—not at all. But, to be fair, men like Darren were rare in the Marine ranks.
She thought of Sakazuki. Of Borsalino.
She glanced at Tokikake, standing like a bored thug with his hands still in his pockets.
Suddenly… Darren didn’t seem quite as disgraceful.
Still, she hadn’t forgotten why she came.
She would teach this shameless bastard a lesson—wipe that smug look off his face.
“No need for training, Captain Darren.”
“We’re here for something else. Right, Tokikake?”
Gion’s voice was steady as she turned to her companion.
“Huh? Wait, we just got here… Can’t we rest a bit first? This is way too—”
Then he caught Gion’s glare—burning with challenge—and immediately straightened up.
“Ahem—yes! Captain Darren! Let’s see what kind of strength the North Blue’s top dog really has!”
“Oh?” Darren raised an eyebrow, smirking.
“You sure? You two are HQ elites. If we really spar, you might need to go easy on me…”
A spark lit behind his eyes.
Though Gion and Tokikake were still young, not yet at their canon-level strength, they were prodigies trained under Marineford’s top brass.
As a North Blue native who’d climbed up from the bottom, he was curious—how strong were they, really?
More importantly—
This was a golden opportunity to teach these two “inspectors” a proper lesson.
The Marines were, after all, a system built on force. Power made the rules.
If he didn’t beat them into submission, they’d just keep interfering with his business.
“Don’t worry, Captain Darren,” Tokikake grinned, showing his teeth. “Since you gave me a fine cigar, I promise I’ll go easy on you.”
His eyes gleamed with mischief.
This was perfect. A legit excuse to knock the smug bastard around.
Gion, meanwhile, slowly drew her golden-bladed katana.
Her expression was cold, her movements smooth and precise.
If words wouldn’t work—then she would let her blade speak. She’d show this lustful, fallen fool what true justice looked like.
All three of them… wore the same crooked smile.
Everyone had their own agenda.
The spar was about to begin.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 6: No—Not the Face!
Chapter Text
Chapter 6 – No—Not the Face!
The training ground was a cloud of dust and tension.
Darren, Gion, and Tokikake stood apart, facing each other in a triangle. Pressure rolled off their bodies like waves before a storm.
Wind howled through the open yard, snapping at their cloaks and whipping sand into the air. The Marine 321st Branch had gathered, completely surrounding the field, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Vice-Commander Momonga, do you think Commander Darren will lose?”
A young Marine asked the man with crossed arms and a slight smirk.
Momonga didn’t answer.
Lose? That word didn’t exist in Darren’s dictionary.
A more accurate question would be: Just how badly will those two HQ prodigies get wrecked?
—
“So, Captain Darren,” Tokikake asked, full of confidence, “which one of us do you want to spar with first?”
He even tossed his hair dramatically—not that there was much to toss—and threw a charming grin toward the female Marines watching from the sidelines.
His ego swelled. Back at HQ, he had trained under several top fighters. Even Admiral Sengoku had complimented his talent. Among his peers, only Gion rivaled him.
He could already imagine it: knocking Darren flat with a clean blow, basking in the cheers and adoring gazes of every woman watching.
“Hehehe…”
Darren glanced at him, then shook his head.
“No need to waste time. You two come at me together.”
Tokikake and Gion froze, both momentarily stunned… and then enraged.
This guy… how arrogant can you be?!
“You’ll regret that! I was going to go easy on you!”
Tokikake ground his teeth.
He would show this North Blue bumpkin the power of a true Marineford elite!
He bent his knees slightly, every muscle in his body tensing with explosive force.
Boom!
The ground beneath him cratered as he launched forward like a cannonball.
This wasn’t Soru, the Navy’s famed high-speed technique—Tokikake and Gion hadn’t yet entered the Officer Training Camp and hadn’t learned the Rokushiki yet.
This was pure, raw power and speed.
The Marines watching gasped in unison. Tokikake vanished from view.
In less than a second, he closed a gap of over ten meters and appeared in front of Darren with blinding speed, muscles coiled, fist crashing straight toward Darren’s gut!
No feints. No tricks.
Just raw force focused to its peak.
Darren stood still, not moving a muscle, not even blinking.
Tokikake’s lips curled into a victorious grin.
I can already see him flying backward and vomiting all over the dirt!
That’s for showing off your muscles!
That’s for seducing Lady Marguerite!
That’s for pretending to “care for the people!”
Take this, you bastard!
Boom!!
The punch landed squarely on Darren’s chiseled abs, sending a shockwave rippling through the air.
Tokikake’s grin froze.
Something… was wrong.
It felt like he had punched a steel wall.
Darren hadn’t moved an inch.
Not even flinched.
Gion, who had been poised with her blade, ready to back him up, blinked in disbelief.
Tokikake stared upward, meeting Darren’s calm, slightly amused expression.
“…Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, I appreciate you holding back,” Darren said with a smile, “but please—take this seriously.”
Tokikake’s mouth twitched.
“Tokikake! What are you doing?! Stop playing around!!” Gion shouted.
Tokikake: ‘…I wasn’t playing around.’
Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath, his arm muscles bulging, and launched another punch—this time with everything he had.
BOOM!!
Another shockwave. Dust swirled wildly around them.
Darren didn’t budge.
Tokikake was stunned again.
…Is this Iron Body?
Even though he hadn’t learned Rokushiki yet, he knew what Tekkai—Iron Body—looked like. It was a technique that hardened one’s body to the strength of steel through rapid muscle contractions and blood flow acceleration.
But this—this was different. He couldn’t feel any tension or build-up in Darren’s body. It was as if he were just… naturally this unbreakable.
Darren’s calm voice came again.
“Really, Tokikake, there’s no need to hold back. I truly want to see what you’re capable of.”
“Tokikake! Are you messing around?! I told you to go all out!” Gion snapped.
Tokikake’s expression was on the verge of tears.
I am going all out!
Gritting his teeth, he swung wildly with both fists.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
A storm of punches battered Darren’s chest, stomach, legs—even his head.
Blows that could shatter stone walls struck again and again… but Darren didn’t take a single step back.
He stood there like a monolith in a storm.
Unshaken. Unmoved. Unfazed.
It’s not working…
It’s really not working…
Tokikake’s eyes widened as he looked up at Darren’s calm face—smiling faintly, as if he were just warming up.
Could it be…?
Then Darren grinned and spoke.
“Are you done?”
“Because if you are… it’s my turn.”
Tokikake’s heart dropped into his stomach.
A chill ran down his spine and exploded behind his eyes.
A rough hand lunged toward him—fast, too fast to dodge.
In his widening pupils, the image of Darren’s palm grew closer and closer.
No escape.
His face twisted in horror as the truth finally hit him.
This guy… is strong enough to crush me!
“Wait—no, not the face!!”
Tokikake screamed—but it was too late.
Darren’s massive hand clamped over his face.
Under Gion’s disbelieving gaze…
Under the shocked silence of the Branch 321 Marines…
Under Momonga’s resigned sigh…
And beneath Tokikake’s shrill, pig-like wail…
Darren took one heavy step forward—
—and slammed Tokikake’s head into the ground.
BOOM!!
The earth shook violently within a 20-meter radius. A crater erupted, with jagged cracks spider-webbing across its surface.
Tokikake’s head was buried in the dirt, his legs sticking out upside-down in the air, twitching slightly in the breeze.
Dust rose like a dragon’s breath.
Everyone present grimaced instinctively.
Even watching that hurt.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 7: A Monster Emerges from the North Blue
Chapter Text
Chapter 7 – A Monster Emerges from the North Blue
“Damn it!!”
Gion’s face twisted in shock.
Only now did she fully realize—Darren hadn’t been fighting seriously. He was toying with them.
Tokikake specialized in close-quarters combat. His raw strength and physique were outstanding.
Yet his punches hadn’t even scratched Darren.
Her eyes scanned Darren’s bare torso, taking in the tangled mess of scars etched into his flesh. And a thought struck her:
His body… It’s trained to inhuman levels.
He’s not using Iron Body—his natural defense is already comparable to it.
The moment that realization hit, Gion didn’t hesitate.
She launched herself forward, a blur of pink streaking across the dusty field.
Her golden-bladed sword flashed, gleaming in the sun. Her eyes blazed with fighting spirit.
There was no backing down now.
She and Tokikake represented Marineford—and with the entire base watching, they had to regain their dignity.
“Watch yourself, Captain Darren!”
In a blink, she appeared in front of him.
Her blade cut through the air with a shrill shriek.
“Draw Slash: Peach Smoke!”
The golden blade arced down in a graceful slash.
Shhhhink!!
Steel met flesh.
Blood sprayed.
A deep crimson gash opened across Darren’s chest, blood spurting from the wound.
But Gion’s pupils shrank.
He didn’t dodge!?
Her expression froze.
Her blade was stuck. The razor-sharp edge was caught in Darren’s muscle.
And then…
He smiled.
It was cruel. Amused. A little unhinged.
A wide, unrestrained grin stretched across Darren’s face.
“Feel the breath of all things… You’ve nearly reached the realm of cutting steel.”
He licked the blood at the corner of his mouth and looked at her with something resembling admiration.
“You’re truly a genius of Marineford. Just a step away from becoming a true swordswoman.”
Before Gion could react, a violent gust of wind howled past her face—like her cheeks were being ripped apart.
Boom!
The air exploded in front of her.
So fast—!!
She tried to block on instinct.
CLANG!!
Darren’s boot slammed into the flat of her sword with earth-shaking force.
It felt like being rammed by a sea train at full speed.
She flew backward like a cannonball.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
She crashed through several stone targets before rolling to a stop across the field.
Dust and debris rained down.
A thin line of blood trickled from her lips. Her hand trembled, her grip faltering. Her palm split open at the web between thumb and forefinger—blood dripping freely.
Staring at Darren, she was speechless.
His defense was monstrous… and that strength—it was close to a full-grown Giant.
“AAAAARGH!! YOU BASTARD, DARREN!! YOU HIT MY FACE!!”
A roar shook the field.
“My face is my livelihood, damn it!”
From the massive crater, Tokikake struggled to pull his swollen, pig-like head free. Gasping for breath, his eyes glowed red.
Something had changed.
The cheerful buffoon was gone. What stood now was a beast awakened.
“You actually made me use this power… Consider yourself honored.”
His hunched body straightened. His uniform began to stretch.
Muscles swelled like molten rock under the skin.
Crack! Crackle!
With each surge of power, cracks spread across the ground beneath his feet.
The Marines watching paled.
“Such strength…”
“There was that much power hidden in his body!?”
“Is this the true strength of HQ’s elites?!”
Tokikake charged forward, faster and more savage than before.
His speed and force nearly doubled from earlier.
He became a meteor flying across the field toward Darren.
And then—
WHAM!!
—he went flying back even faster.
Blood sprayed from his mouth. His uniform shredded into scraps.
He rolled across the ground, wheezing and curled like a boiled shrimp.
Eyes bloodshot, mouth open, he looked like a fish gasping for air.
“Urgh!!”
He vomited something vile onto the ground. The stench made the air itself gag.
Silence.
The entire training ground was dead quiet.
Everyone stared, horrified.
Darren stepped forward slowly, casting a long shadow over Gion and Tokikake.
Looking down at the “inspectors” sent by Marineford, he smiled like a man basking in the sun.
“You two really are impressive elites…”
He blinked innocently.
“—I look forward to working with you.”
“Damn it, Darren! You bastard! How are you this strong?!” Tokikake growled, blood and spit trailing down his chin.
Darren chuckled, as if remembering something amusing.
“Compared to the real monsters… I’m not strong at all.”
He glanced down at the bleeding slash across his chest.
Ah. The bleeding had stopped. It was already starting to scab.
“Well, that was a fun warm-up.”
He turned away.
“Now it’s time for my real training.”
Gion and Tokikake: “……???”
They stared, slack-jawed.
That was a warm-up?!
You got slashed!
You were bleeding out!
Oh. Right. It’s scabbing now. Never mind.
They looked at each other, wordless.
RUMBLE—
Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to shake.
Dust and gravel danced across the field.
They turned.
Their brains went blank.
In the distance—
Darren was holding a massive black iron chain.
It was rusty, thick, over ten meters long.
The end of it was linked to a decommissioned warship at the edge of the training grounds.
His body, muscles bulging like volcanic stone, surged with strength.
He was pulling the warship.
Step by step.
Each footfall cratered the dirt beneath his boots.
Behind him, the massive ship dragged across the ground, carving deep gouges into the earth.
From where they stood, he looked like a tiny Marine dragging a goddamn ship.
Sunlight gleamed off his shoulders.
It was… surreal.
They couldn’t speak. Couldn’t blink.
A voice spoke beside them.
“You two just got here. You still don’t understand a lot.”
Momonga had arrived, arms folded, eyes gleaming with open admiration.
“Before Rear Admiral Sakazuki was reassigned to HQ, Captain Darren was his adjutant.”
He stared at the towering man dragging a ship like it was a toy.
“Most of those scars on his body? They came from training duels with Sakazuki.”
Gion and Tokikake gasped in unison.
Those scars… came from “training”!?
That wasn’t sparring. That was animalistic bloodsport!!
To have survived that...
To have matched Sakazuki, the so-called “Monster”...
Their minds flashed back to what had just happened.
Their so-called “all-out effort.”
It must have looked like children play-fighting to that madman.
“…Another monster…” Tokikake muttered, swallowing hard.
For the past year, a saying had spread across Marineford:
“Monsters come from the North Blue.”
Because from that chaotic sea, two prodigies had risen:
Sakazuki.
Borsalino.
They had stormed through Officer Training Camp in under six months, acknowledged as “monsters” by Admiral Zephyr himself.
And now—
Another was rising.
A new beast.
Rogers Darren.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 8: The Road to Becoming a Monster
Chapter Text
Chapter 8 – The Road to Becoming a Monster
Momonga chuckled at Tokikake’s words.
“Monster, huh? Maybe.”
He paused for a moment, eyes turning distant, softened by nostalgia.
“Captain Darren and I joined Branch 321 at the same time. I remember it clearly—his first day of training, five years ago…”
A rare hint of warmth glinted in the usually stern and unshakable gaze of the base’s Vice-Commander.
“He was skinny. Fragile. Could barely run ten laps around the training field without collapsing. Took him half an hour just to catch his breath and get back up.”
“Among all the recruits that year, he was physically the weakest.”
“But he didn’t give up.”
“He trained every single day, pushing himself to the brink of collapse—every single day.”
“He started by dragging a cannon barrel. Then a small wooden boat. It took him three years of hell before he could even move that scrapped warship by a single meter.”
“Compared to Rear Admiral Sakazuki, who was born a monster, Captain Darren…”
“…is a monster of another kind entirely.”
Gion and Tokikake fell silent.
—
CLANG.
Darren dropped the iron chain, panting beneath the scorching sun. His throat and lungs felt like they were tearing apart with each breath.
His muscles burned—like they were on fire.
But he was used to this pain.
He looked back at the long, deep groove the dragged warship had carved into the ground. Eyeballed the distance.
101 meters.
He smirked.
A new personal record.
Tuning into his body’s feedback, he brought up his internal stats:
Constitution: 58.106 (+0.03)
Strength: 53.837 (+0.06)
Speed: 57.539
Devil Fruit Mastery: 71.345
Another 0.03 in constitution. 0.06 in strength.
“Growth’s slowing down. Might need a bigger warship next time.”
He muttered to himself while staring at his imaginary “stats panel.”
To Darren, this “sense” of internal data wasn’t some game UI—it was the best possible use of his innate perception ability.
By monitoring the changes in his stats, he could judge how effective his current training was.
The human body is an adaptable machine. The same exercises, weights, or drills might yield results at first, but over time, the gains diminish. Eventually, progress grinds to a halt.
That was science.
Even before transmigrating, Darren had read enough about sports science to know: pro athletes constantly switch up training routines to keep improving.
Progressive overload. One of the most basic principles in kinesiology.
Push the limits—gradually and sustainably—to spark growth.
With his gift, Darren could measure exactly when and how his training was working.
That was why he endured pain most people would call hell.
Why he smiled through what others called torture.
Because every push-up… every squat… every lap…
He could see the results.
Just like leveling up in a game.
But this world wasn’t a game. It was very, very real.
And he knew better than anyone how dangerous the seas truly were.
So he trained harder than anyone.
Because only monsters can stand among monsters.
With this gift, he believed—no, he knew—that if he kept pushing…
One day, he’d be like Whitebeard himself: able to stop a charging warship bare-handed.
“All right,” he exhaled, voice steadier now. “Time for the constitution drill.”
He motioned toward Momonga.
He could feel his body reaching its limit. If he forced any more strength drills now, it’d be counterproductive. Muscle strain, overexertion… injuries.
“Captain Darren’s calling me,” Momonga said, turning to Gion and Tokikake.
But before walking off, he paused and smiled.
“Oh, right—what’s next is gonna be real fun. Try not to blink.”
Gion and Tokikake blinked.
Before they could ask, Momonga was gone, marching toward the center of the field.
He didn’t usually have a sadistic streak, but something about watching these HQ “prodigies” gawk in open-mouthed disbelief was… strangely satisfying.
“Form up!!” Momonga barked.
In less than twenty seconds, dozens of Marines swarmed the center of the field in perfect coordination.
Two teams.
CLANG!
The front line drew their sabers in unison.
SHING!
The back line raised their flintlock muskets.
All of them took aim.
At Darren.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tokikake muttered, eyes twitching uncontrollably.
Gion swallowed hard.
“This kind of training… people die from this.”
But before their shock could settle, Momonga gave the order.
“Attack!!”
The front row charged.
Cold steel flashed.
Sabers slashed—without mercy—at Darren’s body.
His head, face, neck, chest, back, arms, thighs, even his throat—
They “took care” of every vital spot.
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG!!
The blades bounced off like they’d struck iron.
Sparks flew. Steel shattered.
The sabers broke one after another.
Without missing a beat, the front row cleared out as the back line pulled their triggers.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
A storm of bullets rained down on Darren.
Ricochets danced across the dirt, leaving pockmarks and craters in the earth.
As soon as they emptied their guns, the back line drew sabers and charged.
Meanwhile, the first group began reloading.
Repeat. Rotate. Reload.
Swords.
Bullets.
Explosions.
Yes—even artillery.
Momonga casually wheeled out a cannon, loaded it, and fired it straight at Darren mid-exchange.
The training field was engulfed in smoke, flames, sand, and dust. From a distance, it looked like a battlefield.
A real war zone.
Gion and Tokikake stood at the edge, faces pale, completely speechless.
No Iron Body.
No dodging.
No blocking.
That lunatic—
He was taking all of it. With his body.
“…Is this… really something a human can do?”
They stared at the man standing tall in the middle of hell, as bullets sparked off his skin and smoke coiled around his silhouette.
And they whispered—
“…Monster.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 9: Germa Rising?
Chapter Text
Chapter 9 – Germa Rising?
That evening.
“The Base Commander’s residence at the 321st Branch.
After completing his brutal training regimen, Darren rinsed off quickly and stepped out of the steaming shower.
He paused in front of the mirror, staring at the lean, scarred body that resembled a panther coiled with raw power.
His stats flashed across his mind:
Constitution: 58.418
Strength: 53.890
Speed: 57.548
Devil Fruit Mastery: 71.345
Today’s impact-resistance training had added a few new wounds, but most had already scabbed over. By morning, they’d be gone.
He'd gained +0.312 in Constitution, inching ever closer to the milestone of 60 points.
“At this rate,” Darren muttered, brows furrowed, “I’ll need to drag some naval cannons from the warships into the training grounds.”
His eyes fell to the tangled web of scars covering his torso.
With his growing durability, standard sabers and muskets were no longer effective. They barely left red marks on his skin.
During today’s drills, most of his injuries had come from Momonga’s cannon blasts.
If he wanted to continue increasing his endurance and regeneration, he'd have to up the intensity.
That was the beauty of his perception ability—precise feedback on training.
He could control the exact limit without pushing himself to crippling injury or death. It allowed him to train hard, but smart.
Progress was slower than before, but it was still progress.
And Darren knew—strength was everything.
Even though he now held the title of Supreme Commander of the North Blue, with full authority over the region’s Marines…
That meant nothing without power.
Before heading to Marineford’s elite Officer Training Program, he needed to turn the North Blue into a solid fortress—his own turf.
More territory meant more access to resources.
And more strength.
Until he mastered Haki, his only path was to raise Strength, Speed, and Constitution.
He wasn’t like Sakazuki—a born monster. He had to bleed for it.
From what he estimated, an adult Giant’s Strength was around 60.
If he could push Constitution past that same threshold, his base durability would match or even surpass Iron Body—without even using it.
And now… he was close.
Very close.
Darren had chosen to walk the Monster’s Path.
No weaknesses. No blind spots.
A wall of power so absolute, it crushed hope.
With the aid of his unique gift, he would someday attain a body as unbreakable as Kaido’s.
“Knock, knock, knock…”
A rap on the door broke his thoughts.
Darren casually threw on a bathrobe and opened the door.
Standing outside was Momonga.
“The ice you requested has arrived.”
Darren nodded with a smile. “Thanks for the trouble.”
Momonga turned to signal two nearby Marines, who quickly entered with large crates of ice.
Clatter…
The tub was soon filled with glistening shards of frost. The Marines gave Darren a look of quiet admiration before respectfully exiting.
Darren dropped his robe and stepped into the freezing bath without a change in expression, fully submerging his body into the zero-degree water.
Ice baths were his routine.
They promoted blood flow, reduced inflammation, accelerated healing, and soothed soreness.
Momonga, standing beside the tub, shivered just watching.
“…So,” Darren asked casually, “what are those two up to now?”
Momonga chuckled. “They’re training. I think your ‘performance’ lit a fire under them.”
Darren blinked—then laughed out loud.
“So HQ’s golden children have their pride after all.”
It made sense. The Marines had their own internal pecking order.
HQ elites looked down on the Grand Line branches. Grand Line Marines looked down on the Blues. And everyone looked down on the remote squads scattered throughout the four seas.
Darren could imagine what was going through their heads.
Born and raised in Marineford. Raised by admirals. Exceptional talents. National treasures.
And yet, here in the “boondocks” of the North Blue, they’d been beaten like schoolchildren.
Of course it would sting.
“They’ve got pride, all right,” Darren muttered. “Guess I hit a nerve.”
Momonga hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“…Are you sure their presence won’t complicate things?”
With no one else around, Momonga didn’t bother with formalities.
Darren’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“This so-called ‘inspection’ from HQ? It’s just theater. Sengoku knows exactly what I’ve been up to.”
“Sending Gion and Tokikake here wasn’t about punishment. He wants me to mentor them.”
“The third round of Officer Training is starting soon. They’re already guaranteed entry. But they need some combat merits to pad their resumes. A little ‘polish’ before graduation.”
“If HQ really wanted to move against me… they wouldn’t have sent those two brats. They’d have sent Tsuru herself.”
Momonga fell silent.
“…Still,” he said at last, “your position’s getting riskier. HQ might start digging into things. If they do…”
Darren shrugged with a smirk.
“The North Blue? HQ doesn’t give a damn about this place.”
“And even if they do dig something up—so what?”
“Let them look. Let them see the truth. Let them understand the reality of this sea.”
He leaned back in the ice, then shifted topics.
“Speaking of trouble… I heard Vinsmoke Judge has been stirring things up?”
Momonga’s expression turned serious.
“Yeah. He’s been on a warpath lately—expanding his army, raiding towns, publicly threatening to behead the kings of four North Blue nations, including the Kingdom of Yadis.”
Darren’s lips curled in a sneer.
“Sounds like he’s gotten his hands on some serious tech.”
Vinsmoke Judge—formerly a collaborator of the infamous Vegapunk, the man said to be 500 years ahead of his time.
In canon history, after Vegapunk was taken by the World Government, Judge stole part of his research and fled back to the North Blue.
There, he rebuilt Germa 66 and sparked the “Decapitation of the Four Kings” incident—slaughtering the rulers of four nations and commissioning a mural to commemorate it.
“Send him a message,” Darren said coldly. “Let him know that Germa 66 doesn’t get to run wild in my sea. I don’t care if HQ’s here to play nice—if he messes with the balance under my command, I’ll crush him.”
He tapped the edge of the tub with his fingers.
“The one who rules the North Blue… is not Germa 66.”
Momonga nodded. But he hesitated again, a strange look passing over his face.
“…Something else?”
Darren glanced at him.
Momonga took a breath.
“There’s… a new group rising in the North Blue. Not pirates—something else. Dangerous. Vicious.”
“They’ve already crushed several of the major mafia families, including the Galleon family. Took over their networks. Their methods are… ruthless.”
Darren raised an eyebrow.
“I looked into their background,” Momonga continued slowly. “And the results were… strange.”
He exhaled, his voice unusually low.
“The leader of this syndicate… is a kid. Barely ten years old.”
“…His name is—”
“Donquixote Doflamingo.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 10: The Elegant Magneto Fruit
Chapter Text
Chapter 10 — The Elegant Magneto Fruit
“Donquixote Doflamingo?”
Hearing that name, Darren froze.
A peculiar expression surfaced on his face—half amused, half serious.
As a transmigrator, that name was anything but unfamiliar. In fact, it was practically legendary.
One of the future Seven Warlords of the Sea.
The flamboyant "Heavenly Yaksha."
The infamous underground broker known only as Joker, controlling over half the world's illegal trade routes.
King of Dressrosa in public, Kaido's shadowy partner in private.
But that was the future.
Right now, there were no Warlords. Kaido hadn’t yet risen as one of the Four Emperors. And Doflamingo…
…was just a brat, newly arrived in the North Blue, trying to gather influence with a ragtag crew.
“That’s right,” Momonga confirmed, face troubled. “But this kid’s background…”
He trailed off.
Darren smirked and said it outright:
“Just a discarded Celestial Dragon. A mutt without a home, now in the North Blue biting at whoever’s closest.”
Momonga glanced at him with a look of helplessness.
He’d worked with Darren long enough to know the man didn’t care for rules—or consequences.
But this level of contempt for a Celestial Dragon… it still gave him pause.
“You’re calm for someone poking a hornet’s nest,” Momonga muttered with a sigh. “Even if he’s been exiled from Mary Geoise, the blood of the Celestial Dragons still flows in his veins.”
“He’s flying the Donquixote Pirates’ flag now, clearly aiming to plant roots and expand in the North Blue. If we engage him, it might unravel everything we’ve built over the years.”
He hesitated, then added:
“…Should we report this to Marineford?”
By protocol, any pirate flag meant open hostility. They should launch a mission immediately.
But Doflamingo’s lineage… complicated things.
Darren fell silent.
Doflamingo really was a tricky bastard.
In canon, this lunatic dared to rob the Heavenly Tribute. He blackmailed the World Government into giving him a Warlord seat using his bloodline as leverage.
Even the Marines couldn’t touch him.
Sure, Vice Admiral Tsuru had chased him down multiple times, giving him quite a few beatings. The guy started fleeing the moment he saw her ship.
But the point remained:
He was never caught.
And it wasn’t because she couldn’t.
Tsuru wasn’t quite at Garp or Sengoku’s level, but someone of her caliber could’ve crushed a half-baked Doflamingo easily.
She let him go because of politics.
Because of that wretched “bloodline.”
“…No,” Darren finally said. “Leave that little punk to me.”
“As for HQ, I’m sure that old man Sengoku won’t be able to sit still for long.”
Momonga nodded and left.
Darren reclined in the freezing bath, falling deep into thought.
Then, almost lazily, he lifted a hand.
A faint electric arc shimmered at his fingertips. An invisible field rippled outward.
And then—
Clink.
A metal coin floated up from the pocket of his uniform trousers, hovering above his palm, spinning slowly in the air.
If someone else had witnessed this scene, they’d be stunned.
Because the coin wasn’t just floating—it was dancing.
Gliding through the air like a butterfly, flipping with uncanny grace around his fingers.
The Jiki Jiki no Mi.
The Magnet-Magnet Fruit.
The very Devil Fruit that, in canon, belonged to Supernova Eustass Kid.
It allowed the user to generate magnetic fields, turning metal into projectiles, controlling magnetism and electricity—all metal was subject to the user’s will.
Darren had confiscated the fruit during a Mafia purge operation.
Once he confirmed its identity, he ate it on the spot. No hesitation.
In his view, the Magnet-Magnet Fruit was a broken-level, god-tier Devil Fruit with nearly limitless potential.
Only one problem:
Kid was an idiot.
He could’ve been a charismatic, elegant Magneto-type battlefield controller…
But no. He went for cheap gimmicks.
Junk bots. Lego armors. Shouting and smashing.
A waste of a masterpiece.
Darren, however, had other plans.
In his hands, the Magnet-Magnet Fruit became his ultimate trump card.
He closed his eyes.
The floating coin spun steadily above his hand. Faint purple sparks flickered along its edge.
The magnetic field intensified.
His body, submerged in ice water, became wrapped in a living web of electromagnetic current.
Under this biomagnetic field, his wounds began to heal at accelerated speeds.
His muscles twitched and flexed rhythmically, gradually strengthening with each pulse.
This was a technique he’d only recently developed—
Biomagnetic Body Reinforcement.
By surrounding himself in a carefully controlled field, he could enhance cellular recovery and stimulate physical growth.
It wasn’t without limits.
Even with his freakish durability, Darren could only maintain this state for about three hours.
Any longer, and the pressure would start damaging his internal organs irreversibly.
Still… every ten minutes, he could feel his stats rising.
Constitution +0.01
Strength +0.01
Speed +0.01
Tick.
By.
Tick.
---
The next morning.
Darren stepped into the base commander’s office, dressed in a crisp new uniform and flowing Marine cloak.
There, slumped on the couch with giant bags under his eyes, was Tokikake.
He was yawning like a bear, clearly drained.
Darren couldn’t help but laugh.
Looks like he really did traumatize the poor guy.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake.”
“‘Mornin’…” Tokikake muttered half-asleep.
Then, as if struck by lightning, he suddenly bolted upright:
“DON’T HIT MY FACE!”
He threw his arms up in front of him.
Specifically, in front of his face.
Darren raised an eyebrow. “Relax. I know your face is your moneymaker.”
Tokikake peeked between his fingers, still wary.
After a moment, he lowered his hands and huffed:
“Hmph. You’d better.”
He puffed his chest and added, with forced bravado:
“Anyway, that spar yesterday—you know I wasn’t going all-out, right?”
“I mean, you're the top dog here in the North Blue. It wouldn’t look good if I beat you bloody in front of all your subordinates.”
Darren nodded solemnly.
“Of course. A prodigy from HQ like you? I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
He reached for his cigar box and passed one to Tokikake.
Tokikake beamed, taking the cigar proudly.
“That’s right!”
He struck a pose—one hand on hip, one hand lighting the cigar.
But then he frowned.
“Say… where’d you even get these? This brand’s rare, even in Marineford.”
As he puffed happily, Darren crossed one leg over the other and lit his own cigar.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty. If you like them, I’ll have a whole box delivered.”
“…A box?”
Tokikake’s hand froze mid-puff.
His eyes widened like saucers.
This wasn’t some bumpkin’s stash.
These cigars were noble-grade, sourced from the Belman Islands in the West Blue—just one cost over 50,000 Berry.
A box held 20 packs, 10 cigars each.
That was over 10 million Berry!
And his entire annual salary as a Lieutenant Commander was barely 2 million.
Just who the hell was this Darren guy, really…?
---
To be continued…
Chapter 11: The Reason to Mobilize
Chapter Text
Chapter 11: The Reason to Mobilize
At that moment, Gion also stepped into the office.
Seeing Darren and Tokikake sitting together like old pals, puffing away on cigars, she furrowed her brows slightly but ultimately said nothing.
“Captain Darren.”
Gion offered a crisp salute.
Darren smiled and waved it off.
“No need to be so formal, Lieutenant Commander Gion.”
He swept a casual glance across Gion and Tokikake.
It was clear from their expressions—after yesterday’s little “spar”—they looked at him with a newfound respect.
After all, in this sea, strength speaks louder than anything.
“So, what’s on the agenda for you two today?”
Darren exhaled a wisp of smoke like a dragon, smiling as he spoke.
Gion and Tokikake exchanged a look. Gion then stepped forward with a serious face.
“Captain Darren, after our observations, we’ve noticed a financial issue with your branch’s income and expenditure.”
“Oh?”
A glimmer of interest sparked in Darren’s eyes.
“And what exactly do you mean, Lieutenant Commander Gion?”
Prepared for this, Gion pulled out a document and placed it on the desk, her expression turning frosty.
“According to data from HQ and my personal review... let’s put aside the other branches in the North Blue for now. Just here at 321st Branch, your Marines’ incomes far exceed the military funding standards set by HQ.”
Darren flicked some ash off his cigar, still smiling:
“Isn’t that a good thing? As Marines, we’re always one mission away from dying gloriously in battle.”
“Let’s not pretend that ‘justice’ pays the bills—being a Marine is an incredibly dangerous profession.”
“If the salary and benefits are scraps, who would be willing to die for justice?”
Gion bit her lip.
“You know that’s not what I meant, Captain Darren!”
“What I mean is—military budgets are allocated by HQ. Each branch’s funding is clearly outlined. But under your command, the Marine salaries here are five times—or even more—than the official standard.”
“So I ask you, Captain Darren: where is all this extra funding coming from?”
At that, Darren hadn’t yet responded when Kajii’s expression already shifted.
Looking at the luxury cigar on the desk, realization struck him, and he whipped his head toward Darren, eyes narrowed.
Facing their accusing stares, Darren simply shrugged.
“Didn’t you already figure that out, Lieutenant Commander Gion?”
Gion gritted her teeth.
“In other words, you’ve been taking bribes!”
“Bribes?”
Darren chuckled as if hearing a joke.
“No, no, how could something like that be called bribery in the Marines?”
“This is called reasonable compensation.”
Gion stared at him in disbelief.
“So the rumors are true—you really are entangled with the Mafia in the North Blue, even taking money from them!”
“Do you even understand? That money is squeezed from innocent civilians! Because of the Mafia’s oppression, countless families are broken!”
“Families ruined?”
Darren burst out laughing.
“You’ve read my report, haven’t you? Under my watch, crime rates across the North Blue have dropped significantly, and the quality of life has improved for ordinary people.”
“Yes, you’re right, Lieutenant Commander Gion. Mafia money does come from civilians. So in a sense, yes—I did take money from the people.”
“But when I take their money, I get things done.”
“You know what civilians here fear most? It’s not the Marines taking money—it’s Marines who don’t take money.”
Gion trembled with rage.
What kind of twisted logic was that!?
“Protecting the people is the Marines’ duty! If you take money for it, it changes everything! Darren, where’s your belief in justice!?”
Darren smiled calmly.
“You have your beliefs. I have my way of doing things.”
“I judge by results. And the result is—I’ve managed the North Blue better than anyone before.”
“You don’t understand how messy the North Blue really is. It’s not like what you see from HQ in Marineford.”
“Of course…”
He spread his hands.
“If you don’t accept my way of doing things, feel free to report me to HQ. If they issue a formal order, I’ll accept whatever punishment they decide.”
Gion opened her mouth to say more—but at that moment, Vice Commander Momonga stepped in with a grim expression.
“Captain Darren...”
Sensing the tense atmosphere, he hesitated.
Darren glanced at him and waved a hand.
“Go ahead. What happened?”
Momonga nodded.
“Germa 66 has begun its ‘Decapitate the Four Nations’ campaign. Their evil army has amassed over 10,000 troops and is about to launch an assault on the Kingdom of Yadis.”
“Based on our analysis of both sides’ forces, Yadis will likely fall within the hour once war breaks out.”
“Governor Tyriel of Yadis has officially requested help from us—asking for North Blue’s Marines to intervene.”
At those words, Gion and Tokikake’s expressions changed drastically.
Germa 66—called the “Evil Army” and “House of War”—was a fearsome force and a territory-less kingdom recognized by the World Government.
Its ruling family, the Vinsmokes, was infamous.
Their king, Vinsmoke Judge, known as “Garuda,” was a scientist who wielded advanced military technology.
And under his lead, Germa 66 was among the strongest armies in the world. Their influence in the North Blue was immense.
If Judge truly intended to dominate the North Blue… the entire sea would be engulfed in war.
The two HQ elites—raised in the relative peace of Marineford—couldn’t help but feel a chill run down their spines.
They instinctively looked to Darren.
“So… that old bird didn’t get our message?”
Darren narrowed his eyes, smirking.
Momonga, knowing him well, realized instantly—Vinsmoke Judge was doomed.
“It was delivered directly to his hands,” he said grimly.
“Good.”
Darren stood, snuffing out his cigar. His eyes turned cold.
“Then let’s move.”
Momonga nodded and began issuing orders via Den Den Mushi. Marines across the base mobilized swiftly.
Darren threw on his large white Justice cloak.
“Wait!”
Gion’s voice stopped him. She looked uneasy.
Darren glanced over.
Gion hesitated, then said firmly:
“Shouldn’t we report to HQ first? This is a dispute between sovereign nations. If we interfere rashly, it could escalate into a political crisis.”
What a naïve girl... Darren thought to himself.
“With Germa’s speed, if we wait for HQ’s response, those kings’ heads will already be hanging from Judge’s wall.”
“I’m not letting Germa 66 start a war in my jurisdiction and slaughter innocent civilians.”
Gion blinked—surprised.
So… this guy does have some sense of responsibility?
But Darren’s next words nearly made her spit blood.
“—If all the civilians die, who am I supposed to collect payments from?”
Gion’s chest heaved with fury.
“You bastard! You’re protecting the people just to get paid!?”
In the distance, the sound of war drums rose from the naval port—321st Branch’s forces were assembling.
Darren chuckled.
“Of course not.”
Gion blinked again, feeling oddly relieved.
Darren grinned.
“Also, Lady Marquerite is still in Yadis. We just spent the night together two days ago. If I don’t step in, it’d look bad, wouldn’t it?”
Gion: …
Tokikake: …
Both were stunned.
So your reason for mobilizing… is to rescue your lover!?
---
To Be Continued...
Chapter 12: I Will End This War
Chapter Text
Chapter 12: I Will End This War
Yadis Kingdom.
Border Seas.
The sky was shrouded in clouds. Fierce winds roared across the sea, raising towering waves.
On the border coastline, tens of thousands of Yadis Kingdom soldiers gripped swords and spears, standing in a loose and shaky formation. Their eyes were filled with fear, faces pale as they stared at the approaching massive warships. Their hands trembled, unable to hold their weapons steady.
One ship.
Two ships.
Three ships...
One after another, enormous fortress-like battleships plowed forward across the stormy sea, heading straight for the shores of the Yadis Kingdom, radiating overwhelming military might.
Flying atop each warship was a flag emblazoned with the number “66.”
The main bodies of the ships were constructed of rock and metal, dragged forward by giant sea snails.
At the forefront sailed a warship the size of a small town, crowned by a towering fortress spire. From its peak flew a menacing black banner—a cross-shaped falcon soaring in grim majesty.
The Saint-Germain.
The flagship of the so-called “Army of Evil”—Germa 66.
“Damn it! Has the Marine arrived yet!?”
King Yadis III—an overweight, middle-aged man with an ornate golden crown and an extravagant robe—was sweating profusely as he watched the steel tide of Germa 66 roll in like thunderclouds across the horizon.
That madman, Vinsmoke Judge, had openly declared his intention to decapitate the king unless the Yadis Kingdom surrendered him. Otherwise, the entire kingdom would be razed to the ground under Germa’s iron heel.
Seeing the sidelong glances some soldiers threw his way, King Yadis III paced like an ant on a hot stove.
“Your Majesty, I’ve already sent word to Lord Darren. The 321st Marine Branch has mobilized. They should arrive at any moment,” said the royal governor, Tyriel, in a respectful tone.
Tyriel was a handsome man in his early thirties, with delicate features and a refined aura. A faint fragrance wafted from his luxurious attire.
Hearing this, King Yadis III calmed slightly, but anxiety still clouded his face.
The Germa Kingdom had stood for over 300 years in the North Blue, boasting a terrifying military legacy. Their society revered strength, their citizens were overwhelmingly adult males, and every one of them was a trained soldier.
Faced with such overwhelming power, even though Yadis had the numbers, their army would likely collapse within ten minutes if war broke out.
---
Aboard the Saint-Germain.
A towering figure with flowing blond hair stood at the bow, clad in a light-gray battle suit marked with Germa’s “66” and a billowing orange cape. He wore a metallic helmet, his sharp black goatee pointed upward, and in his hand was a gleaming silver spear.
Vinsmoke Judge, head of the Vinsmoke family, supreme commander of Germa 66, and current king of the Germa Kingdom.
“What a bunch of pathetic cowards... A nation this weak has survived in the North Blue this long? Disgraceful,” he sneered, staring coldly at the trembling troops on the Yadis coastline.
“Your Majesty, are you sure we should proceed? The newly appointed Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines...”
A butler in a black tailcoat spoke cautiously from behind.
“Hmph?”
Judge raised an eyebrow.
The butler’s eyes widened in horror.
Shnk!
A spray of blood burst forth as Judge’s spear pierced the butler’s chest.
Drip, drip...
The butler knelt lifelessly, staring in disbelief at his king.
“North Blue Commander? Just a mere Marine Headquarters captain. What gives him the right to warn me?”
Judge yanked his spear free and flicked the blood away with disdain.
Germa didn’t need weaklings.
As for that letter from someone named “Darren”? Straight into the trash.
Judge turned his gaze to the tightly packed figures on the nearby battleships. Clad in shades and uniform gray suits, with blank expressions—even in the face of imminent war—they remained emotionless.
Clone soldiers.
He smiled in satisfaction. Thanks to his past cooperation with Vegapunk, he’d acquired partial access to Lineage Factor technology.
Using it, he had developed cloning methods to mass-produce obedient, fearless soldiers genetically programmed to never fear death or betray orders.
To Judge, this was the pinnacle of military evolution. These soldiers were stronger than ordinary Marines, immune to pain, and absolutely loyal.
And best of all? With his current tech, it took just five years to raise a fully formed twenty-year-old soldier.
With enough funding, he could produce a limitless army. Once the North Blue fell, the world would be within his grasp.
He raised a hand.
Under his command, the scattered warships began converging.
Driven by their snail engines, dozens of massive ships locked together like puzzle pieces.
To the shock of Yadis soldiers, Germa 66’s fleet merged into one colossal floating war fortress.
Towering battlements.
Black cannons.
Tens of thousands of emotionless clone soldiers.
From afar, it looked like a monstrous war machine, bristling with weapons and seething with menace.
This... was Germa.
“For the glory of Germa! Conquer the North Blue!!”
Judge raised his spear and bellowed.
“FOR THE GLORY OF GERMA! CONQUER THE NORTH BLUE!!”
The clone army echoed in unison, their voices thundering like a tidal wave across the sea.
The pressure was suffocating. Some of Yadis’s younger soldiers collapsed, dropping their weapons with clatters.
King Yadis III trembled violently, needing aides to hold him upright.
“We’re doomed... doomed...” he muttered.
Judge laughed wildly.
“Bow down and submit!! Germa is the true ruler of the North Blue!!”
He raised his spear high, crackling with blue electricity. The entire war fortress began to surge forward.
Massive waves churned in its wake.
“Prepare to—”
BOOM!
A black cannonball crashed down beside him mid-sentence.
BOOOOOOM!!!
A massive explosion rocked the battlefield.
Everyone froze.
Smoke billowed. Judge staggered out of a crater, clothes scorched, eyes blazing with fury.
“Who dares!?”
He spun to look.
So did everyone else.
From the stormy sea, a single warship emerged—grand and imposing.
On its towering mast flew a banner with bold, inky characters: JUSTICE.
A tall, commanding figure stood at the bow, his white Marine cape whipping in the wind.
“It’s Darren!!”
“The Marines are here!! We’re saved!!”
King Yadis III broke into tears of joy.
Judge’s face turned dark.
Between the two armies, the lone Marine warship sailed into the no-man’s land, dividing them.
The air grew still and tense.
All eyes turned to the man at the ship’s prow.
Short black hair. Sword-like brows. Deep, sharp features.
The Marine Captain smirked slightly.
He looked straight at the furious Judge.
“In the name of Justice...”
His voice echoed over the sea.
“I have come to end this war.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 13: Jiki Jiki no Mi: Iconic Moment
Chapter Text
Chapter 13: Jiki Jiki no Mi: Iconic Moment
“I’m here to end this war.”
The low voice of the Marine captain echoed across the deathly silent sea, causing everyone to widen their eyes in shock.
On the deck of the warship, the Marines of the North Blue stared at their imposing and awe-inspiring commander at the bow. Their eyes lit up with admiration, and many of the young female Marines even had hearts in their eyes.
“Damn it! He pulled it off again!! Why can’t I come up with lines like that!?”
Tokikake glanced around at everyone’s reactions and grumbled in a low voice, his face flushed with frustration.
Gion’s eyes sparkled faintly.
At that moment, a furious roar came from the Jerma fleet:
“Darren, what the hell are you doing!? Are you trying to make a move against me!?”
“Jerma is a recognized member of the World Government and a nation with the right to attend the Reverie... Attacking me is an act of aggression against a fellow member state!”
“And you Marines have no right to interfere in international conflicts!”
Darren narrowed his eyes, the cloak of Justice behind him billowing wildly in the wind as he sneered:
“Vinsmoke Judge… It’s true that Jerma is a member nation of the World Government, but so is the Kingdom of Yadis.”
“And more importantly, I will not tolerate such a destructive war within my jurisdiction.”
Judge burst out laughing in fury:
“So you think a mere Marine captain, with just one ship and a few hundred men, can stop the might of Jerma 66!?”
“Naive little Marine brat—stop talking big!!”
He raised his hand high.
“No one can stop Jerma from conquering the North Blue!”
A hint of madness and brutality flickered in his eyes.
“Open fire!! Sink that warship immediately!”
With Jerma's status as a World Government affiliate, even killing this so-called North Blue commander on the spot wouldn’t earn him a single reprimand.
In fact, it would send a message to Marine Headquarters—a warning: even they cannot stand in Jerma’s way.
“Tremble beneath Jerma’s firepower… and submit!”
The moment his words fell—
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
Deafening cannon fire shattered the silence over the sea.
Everyone from the Kingdom of Yadis looked on in horror as countless flashes of light erupted from Jerma’s warships, spewing fire like volcanoes.
As fiery trails soared into the sky, it seemed the heavens themselves turned dark, as if covered by thick storm clouds.
But no—
It wasn’t clouds.
It was an overwhelming barrage of cannonballs and bullets, cutting through the air like a swarm of locusts, their high-pitched screeches forming deadly arcs as they rained down over Darren’s ship.
A dark and oppressive curtain of death blotted out the sky.
There was nowhere to run.
In that moment, scorching winds roared overhead. Hundreds—no, thousands—of shells rained down like a torrential storm, the gunpowder stench thick enough to choke the sea.
Some of the shells weren’t even traditional cannonballs—many looked like rockets or missiles.
This… this was the advanced military technology that gave Jerma 66 the power to dominate the North Blue!
On the warship, Tokikake and Gion’s faces turned pale.
“Damn it!! Jerma 66 actually dared attack the Marines!”
“Vinsmoke Judge has gone insane!?”
Tokikake was sweating, panic etched across his face.
Gion swiftly drew her blade, but her expression was grim. A barrage of this scale could level a small mountain in seconds. There was no way they could stop it.
Worse still, they were in the middle of the ocean.
If the ship sank, even if they survived the first wave, they’d be helpless in the water for the next.
But just as panic was settling in, the two suddenly noticed something odd—none of the other Marines seemed scared. In fact, many wore a strange, confident look on their faces.
Could it be…?
Gion and Tokikake both turned to stare at Darren.
And then, the Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines… moved.
A cold smirk curled across his lips as he gazed up at the raining firestorm, raising one hand slowly.
He gently pressed forward.
It looked almost casual, like he was softly pushing the air.
And then—
Faint purple sparks crackled through the sky.
An invisible force spread out in silence.
Tokikake and Gion froze, their eyes widening as if witnessing something unimaginable.
On the coastline, the soldiers of Yadis—tens of thousands of them, including the king—gaped in absolute disbelief.
The overwhelming rain of cannon fire—
Countless shells and bullets—
Suddenly hit an invisible barrier.
Their descent slowed dramatically—
Then… stopped in midair.
A thick, dense field of projectiles floated silently about five meters above the Marine ship, unmoving.
They were so close, Tokikake and Gion could make out the fine engravings on the shells, even smell the acrid stench of powder.
Silence.
The world fell into an eerie, deathly stillness.
It was so quiet, the air itself seemed to hum.
On Jerma’s flagship, Judge stared in horror at the scene, his eyes bloodshot.
Cannonballs that had been roaring toward impact… had frozen midair!?
The whole world seemed to pause.
In the midst of this heart-stopping silence—
Click.
A lighter flared.
At the bow of the ship, the black-haired Marine captain lit a cigar, shielding the flame from the wind with one hand.
A warm red glow flickered.
“I’ll give you one last chance, Vinsmoke Judge.”
His tone was flat, emotionless.
As he spoke, the floating shells began to rotate.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Adjusting.
The direction of the rocket launchers and missiles shifted as well—
Toward Jerma’s fleet.
Judge’s face drained of color.
Staring at the dense array of turned projectiles, a bone-chilling fear crawled down his spine.
The North Blue Marine commander took a deep drag of his cigar. The smoke curled into the air, forming the shape of a snowy-white flag.
“Turn back now, and I’ll pretend nothing happened.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 14: One Man Destroys a Nation?!
Chapter Text
Chapter 14: One Man Destroys a Nation?!
"W-What kind of power is this...?"
Tokikake stood frozen, staring up at the artillery shells slowly turning in mid-air. Even his voice trembled.
"The ability to... control metal?" Gion murmured, equally stunned.
Beside them, Tokikake crossed his arms and lit a cigarette with a grin.
"Darren's control over magnetic fields is getting sharper by the day..."
Far in the distance, atop the Saint-Germain, Vinsmoke Judge clenched his teeth, his pupils trembling violently at the oppressive sight.
But the moment Darren's words rekindled the anger in his heart.
That Marine brat… what arrogance!
Did he really believe that just because he ate a Devil Fruit, he could stand against Germa 66—the Evil Army?
"Don't kid yourself!! If I can't even take out a brat like you, how could Germa 66 ever rule the North Blue?!"
Vinsmoke Judge roared, eyes bloodshot:
"All units—CHARGE!! Ram that warship to splinters!!"
With that command, Germa’s fleet surged forward again, powered by massive snails, accelerating wildly toward Darren’s solitary vessel.
Darren said nothing.
Once again, he slowly raised his hand.
The motion was deliberate—eerily slow—completely out of sync with the thunderous charge of dozens of warships slicing through raging waves.
Tens of thousands of soldiers from the Yadis Kingdom, watching from the shore, saw it clearly.
Darren’s long, powerful fingers spread into the air...
Then clenched.
BOOM.
A high-pitched, almost mechanical whine filled the air.
Everyone widened their eyes in shock.
The barrage of suspended shells above Darren’s ship suddenly trembled violently.
A magnetic storm erupted.
And then...
WHOOOOOM!!!
With terrifying speed—twice as fast as when they’d been launched—
the deathstorm of shells reversed course and shot straight toward the Germa fleet.
Judge’s blood vessels burst in his eyes.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!
Like a rain of meteors, the stolen shells rained down upon Germa’s war fortress.
Explosions bloomed in every direction, red mushroom clouds rising high into the sky.
Germa’s cloned soldiers—engineered for war—couldn’t even react.
They were engulfed in fire and shockwaves, annihilated where they stood.
Towering flames devoured the fortress that was Germa Kingdom, causing it to tremble like a leaf.
Wave after wave of blast-force rippled across the sea, creating tsunamis that reached even the Yadis coastline.
Thick, black smoke spiraled into the sky as the ground-shaking tremors turned every Marine pale.
On Darren’s ship, everyone—including Gion and Kajii—clung to the mast or railing to avoid being thrown off.
And yet, Darren stood tall at the prow—unmoved, unshaken.
A lone man against a nation, with nothing but a cigar and a white cape.
In the light of Germa’s burning wreckage, that cape looked almost blood-red.
It was then they understood:
Darren hadn’t ruled the chaos of the North Blue through diplomacy alone.
He had the power of a monster.
The power to destroy an entire nation—alone.
...
The bombardment lasted a full minute.
When the sea breeze finally cleared the smoke, everyone gasped.
Germa was a wasteland.
Charred earth. Fires still burning. Craters everywhere.
The once-formidable fortress reduced to ash.
Bodies of cloned soldiers lay mangled and strewn across the ground—some unrecognizable.
Even the towering Saint-German’s flag—the Crossed Falcon—had crumbled to ash.
Half of Germa Kingdom had been leveled.
"Cough... cough... Damn Marine... how dare you..."
From the rubble, a ragged figure stumbled to its feet.
Vinsmoke Judge.
His pride shattered. Bloodied. Barely standing.
The "66" cloak behind him fluttered like torn flesh.
"So... you’ve finished the first-generation battle suit," Darren murmured with interest.
Germa 66’s battle suits—high-tech armor made from shape-memory alloy—were famously resistant, even to flame.
That cape had saved him from total incineration.
"Then let me test its limits."
Darren turned to his crew and said calmly:
"Hold on tight."
Gion and Tokikake blinked.
Tokikake and the others immediately gripped the railings.
Following their lead, Gion and Tokikake braced themselves too.
Then—
Darren took a deep breath.
HSSHH—
The cigar in his mouth burned halfway in an instant.
His eyes locked on the distant wreckage of the Saint-Germain.
He bent his knees.
Cape flaring. Muscles tensed like coiled steel.
A predator ready to pounce.
"No way..." Tokikake’s face twitched.
And then Darren smiled.
BOOM!!
The ship tilted.
From one kick.
The bow smashed into the sea. The stern lifted high—deck tilted at a 45-degree angle.
CRACK!!
The ship shifted several meters from the force alone.
And Darren? He launched like a cannonball.
The air cracked.
A white trail slashed across the sea—the waves split by the speed of one man.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 15: The Science of Germa
Chapter Text
Chapter 15: The Science of Germa
"What a total monster!!"
Seeing the white flash soaring like an arrow straight toward the Germa flagship, the St. Germain, Gion clutched the railing tightly, her expression looking like she'd just seen a ghost.
Boom!
At that moment, the raised tail of the warship came crashing down under its own weight, sending a cascade of waves that drenched all the Marines onboard.
But Tokikake didn’t even notice. He stared, slack-jawed, as Darren's figure tore through the air, eyes bulging in disbelief.
"That ridiculous burst of power... That bastard really intends to cross a hundred meters just by raw strength and launch himself into Germa Kingdom?!"
"Oi! Is that lunatic always this insane!?"
Tokikake's mouth twitched as he looked at Momonga, who could only offer a helpless smile.
"That’s just how Darren fights... In the past year alone, he’s already scrapped more than five ships by pulling stunts like this."
...If not for the North Blue Marines' "deep pockets", their fleet would have gone bankrupt long ago with the pittance allotted from headquarters.
As their ship finally stabilized on the waves, Darren slammed into Germa Kingdom's shores like a horizontal cannonball.
Boom!
A thunderous impact shook the land as dust erupted into the air. The ground itself seemed to tremble.
A moment later, Darren rose slowly from a crater five meters wide, a cigar clenched between his teeth, and a crooked, wild grin tugging at his lips.
"Smooth landing," he muttered, the justice cloak behind him billowing in the wind and dust.
"Kill him!! Take him down now!!"
Vinsmoke Judge narrowed his eyes as he gave the command with a furious snarl.
From the ruins of turrets and bunkers all around, swarms of cloned soldiers emerged.
Clad in uniform, each wearing mirrored sunglasses, they moved in perfect synchrony, radiating a chilling, emotionless aura.
Shing!
They raised their rifles in unison. Hundreds of barrels locked onto the Marine captain.
Triggers pulled.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Muzzle flashes erupted like wildfire. Countless bullets screamed through the air, streaking toward Darren.
"Still haven't learned your lesson?"
Darren smirked, a manic gleam in his eye.
He didn’t even activate his Jiki Jiki no Mi.
He simply walked forward at a calm, deliberate pace—straight into the storm of bullets.
Judge's pupils dilated in disbelief.
Ting! Ting! Tink!
The bullets slammed against Darren's body, shredding his suit and uniform—yet they rebounded like they’d struck solid steel.
Sparks flew. The bullets ricocheted off his skin, crashing into the ground, fortifications, and walls around him, leaving behind dense craters.
From afar, he looked like a lone traveler marching forward through a torrential storm.
Utterly fearless.
"Impossible! How can a human body be this strong?!"
Judge screamed in rage.
Seeing their bullets fail, the cloned soldiers switched tactics. One of them raised a compact rocket launcher, aimed, and fired.
Biuuuuu!
A blazing rocket hissed through the air, trailing red flames—
Only for Darren to reach out and catch it.
"New tech, huh? Gotta say, this is a lot sleeker than our Marine models..."
He examined the trembling warhead with casual interest—then hurled it back.
Biuuuu...BOOM!
It detonated in the face of the clone who'd fired it, consuming a five-meter radius in roaring fire.
"Roughly equal to a small artillery blast, but way more portable..."
Darren narrowed his eyes, assessing the damage with expert detachment.
His mind was already moving several steps ahead.
All this time looting the underworld, funneling massive funds into his North Blue Marines, spending beyond what HQ allowed—it all had a purpose.
He wasn’t just fattening a branch.
He was building his own private army.
The entire North Blue fleet would become his personal military force.
As a transmigrator, Darren understood the core weakness of the Marines:
No matter how righteous their ideals, they were still shackled under the weight of the World Government.
It was the sad reality—
The Marines were the world’s greatest enforcement body, yes.
But they were also the Government’s puppet.
The leash? Military funds.
The Government collects the Heavenly Tribute, then rations funds to the Marines—ensuring they hold the financial leash.
Without fiscal autonomy or alternative revenue, Marines are always at the mercy of bureaucrats.
Darren’s ultimate goal was to break that chain.
To raise a force that answered to him alone.
And after years of groundwork, North Blue Marines had reached self-sufficiency—their budget rivaling HQ levels.
But it still wasn’t enough.
He knew all too well how weak the Blues' branches were. Compared to HQ’s elite, to the New World where Haki was the norm, they were far behind.
Even with his reforms and modern training methods, North Blue was still underpowered.
But today...
Germa 66 opened a new door.
They held some of the world’s most advanced military tech: weapons, cybernetics, battle suits...
If Darren could seize it all—and use it to outfit his Marines?
Then in short order, he would command a fleet unlike any in the Blues.
With that thought, Darren's smile widened. He surged forward.
Target: Vinsmoke Judge—supreme commander of Germa 66.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 16: I Am the Genius of Headquarters—Tokikake!
Chapter Text
Chapter 16: I Am the Genius of Headquarters—Tokikake!
As Darren charged forward with long, powerful strides, the ground beneath his feet trembled and cratered, as if struck by an invisible hammer.
In that moment of inhuman explosiveness, his figure rocketed ahead like a cannonball, cloaked in a raging whirlwind.
Vinsmoke Judge felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation crash down on him. A chill raced down his spine, as though a colossal Sea King had locked its gaze upon him.
The killing intent exuding from the Marine Captain was so suffocating it was like a devil born from a mountain of corpses and rivers of blood. Even the sea breeze carried the scent of iron and slaughter.
"Kill him! Take him down!!"
Flashes of Darren's brutal anti-pirate methods echoed in Judge's mind. Blood filled his eyes as he roared his command.
Immediately, dozens of cloned soldiers surged forth from the rubble of nearby fortifications, weapons raised.
Two gleaming blades slashed toward Darren's chest. He smirked, subtly shifting his body.
The blades whistled past, missing by mere inches.
In that passing instant, Darren's arms moved like spears forged in steel. His palms became blades, piercing the throats of both soldiers with ruthless precision.
SPLURT!
Blood sprayed as their pupils dimmed.
Without missing a beat, Darren charged again like a tiger unleashed. His body, hardened beyond steel, crashed into the clones like a storm tearing through straw.
From a distance, the Marine Captain appeared engulfed by the clone army. At the center of the encirclement, the sounds of flesh tearing and bones snapping echoed.
Cloned bodies, drenched in blood, were hurled outward. In less than ten seconds, the ground was awash in crimson, littered with torn limbs.
Onboard the Marine ship, Gion and Tokikake watched in stunned silence, faces pale.
In that moment, Darren resembled a precise, efficient killing machine. His monstrous physique and savage close-quarters combat tore through enhanced clones like they were paper.
He was unstoppable.
Bullets, blades, axes, and spears bounced off his body with metallic clangs, leaving nothing more than shallow welts.
Bathed in blood, the Marine Captain let out a wild laugh. The white cloak of justice on his back had turned crimson.
"He's enjoying the slaughter..."
Gion watched in awe, her mind replaying their duel the day before.
Darren had taken her sword strike head-on, not out of arrogance, but because he relished walking the edge between life and death.
"This guy's insane..."
She bit her lip in frustration.
Nearby, Tokikake noticed her dazed gaze and suddenly snapped to attention.
"Quick! We have to move in too!"
"I'm gonna send Vinsmoke Judge flying!"
Momonga blinked in surprise. "You sure? Darren doesn't like interference in his fights. He's enjoying this, and according to intel, Judge's strength and tech are—"
He didn't finish. Tokikake grabbed his collar and snarled, face flushed red.
"Damn it, Momonga! Who do you think I am!?"
"I'm the genius of Headquarters! The one and only Tokikake!"
"Like hell a little Germa 66 is enough to stop me!"
Releasing his grip, he spun around dramatically. Peeking at Gion from the corner of his eye, he spoke in a deep, solemn tone:
"This rush of battle... It's been too long."
"Who knew the backwater North Blue would push even a genius like me to this extent."
Momonga twitched at the sight of Tokikake's theatrical pose and signaled the crew.
The Marine vessel roared forward, engines at full throttle, charging into Germa's fleet.
Meanwhile...
CLANG!
Several steel blades struck Darren's chest, only to shatter in a spray of sparks.
The clone soldiers stared in disbelief at their broken weapons.
Though they lacked pain and fear, the flicker of confusion remained.
Why was this man’s body tougher than their weapons forged in reinforced steel?
And even more disturbing—his defense had clearly grown stronger.
"That should do it... Real combat really is the best way to grow."
Darren grinned.
According to his sensory talent, his physique and strength had surged. Most notably, his Physique stat had broken past the 60-point threshold.
"Time to move on."
With his enhanced defense, fighting clones provided diminishing returns. Tireless and fearless, they were now just a waste of time.
He licked his dry lips.
A high-pitched whistling rushed from behind.
Several clones leapt into the air, blades aimed for his neck.
But just before their swords struck, they froze.
WHIRR...
An eerie silence fell.
The suspended blades vibrated in place, held still by unseen force.
Suddenly, without Darren moving an inch, the ground around him stirred.
Rebar burst forth like black serpents, twisting and intertwining into a massive net that ensnared the clones.
Before they could react, they were bound tight, pulled down violently.
Steel skewered their bodies, tightening until it tore flesh and shattered bones.
Vinsmoke Judge watched in frozen horror.
Centered around Darren, within a hundred-meter radius, hundreds of clones were impaled and crushed by rebar that had "grown" from the ground.
In seconds, the ground ran red.
Flesh ripped. Organs spilled.
Silence returned.
Darren stood alone in a field of blood and twisted metal.
Steel tendrils writhed around him like serpents—
Like a demon risen from hell.
To be continued...
Chapter 17: I Am the True King of the North Blue
Chapter Text
Chapter 17: I Am the True King of the North Blue
Dust swirled in the air. Cold steel danced wildly.
Vinsmoke Judge stared at what was now mostly the ruins of the Germa Kingdom, his bloodshot eyes trembling with rage.
"Damn it!! I'm the man who will lead Germa to dominate the North Blue!!"
Darren narrowed his eyes and smiled. "The Marines are the true rulers of these seas... and the title 'King of the North Blue'? I won’t let you have it."
With a wave of his hand, dozens of twisted steel bars surged, whistling through the air under magnetic force, shooting straight toward Vinsmoke Judge.
Hiss!!
With a hiss of propulsion, jets of white steam erupted from the heels of Judge’s combat boots. His figure soared upward like a monstrous bird.
"Then I’ll show you the true power of Germa 66, brat!!"
Wielding his metal spear, he knocked aside the incoming steel bars as he dove down at high speed, golden hair flowing behind him.
Crackling blue lightning surged along the spear.
"Electromagnetic Lance!!"
In the blink of an eye, Judge closed in, gripping the electric spear and striking down toward Darren.
The sheer heat and piercing force split the air apart.
"So this is the power of science, huh?"
Facing a weapon capable of piercing steel and fortress walls, Darren simply smiled.
The rushing wind stirred his black hair, the tip of the spear inches from his brow—he could even feel the searing heat—yet he kept smiling.
A wave of magnetic force rippled silently from his body.
In the next moment, the spear’s speed slowed drastically, as though it had plunged into invisible molasses, eventually freezing in place.
Judge’s pupils contracted.
No matter how he pushed, his high-tech spear wouldn’t budge—like it had been clamped by an invisible vice.
"Trying to beat me with tech? That’s your biggest mistake."
Darren’s voice was calm.
"Damn you!! I refuse to accept this!!"
Judge roared, releasing the spear, spinning midair. His boots flashed with energy as he kicked sideways toward Darren’s head.
"Electromagnetic Crush!"
But once again, the same scene played out.
The battle boots, roaring with propulsion, froze in the air, bound by that same invisible force.
Judge’s expression twisted in horror.
His cutting-edge tech—was completely suppressed by this man’s Devil Fruit!?
Before he could react, Darren vanished from sight.
So fast!!
Wind exploded beside him. Judge clenched his teeth, cold sweat on his back.
Behind him, his sentient battle cloak wrapped around him like a shield.
Boom!!
A devastating kick slammed into his abdomen. Judge flew like a cannonball, smashing through a distant fortress.
Rumble...
The entire structure collapsed. Cracks webbed through its walls before everything crumbled.
Stone rained down. The ground groaned.
Darren landed gently.
"Damn it!! This can’t be happening! My technology is supposed to be invincible!!"
Watching Judge stagger from the wreckage, Darren smirked in satisfaction.
He’d been testing the battle suit’s capabilities.
Unlike his modified children, Judge’s body was not enhanced—no monstrous toughness.
His strength came entirely from his tech—the battle suit.
Without it, he wouldn’t be stronger than a Marine Lieutenant Commander.
Though this was only the first generation suit—far weaker than what appeared in the Whole Cake Island arc—it was still impressive.
From the attacks and defenses so far... Darren was pleased.
In fact, with this tech, any well-trained Marine wearing such a suit could probably fight on par with a Rear Admiral.
And just then—
"Hahahaha!! Let me help, Darren!! The genius of Marine HQ—Tokikake—is here to defeat the evil army’s commander and save the Yadis Kingdom! I’ll be a Marine hero!!"
A boisterous voice rang out.
Darren blinked, turning back.
At some point, their warship had landed. Gion and Momonga were leading Marines against the remnants of the clone army.
Meanwhile, Tokikake was charging ahead like a whirlwind, dust billowing behind him as he rushed toward Judge.
Several black lines popped up on Darren’s forehead.
This guy... trying to steal the spotlight again?
He opened his mouth to speak, but Tokikake shouted triumphantly:
"Darren, don’t interfere!!"
Darren thought for a moment... then stopped.
Tokikake beamed with joy.
Looking at the winded Judge, his lips curled in smug delight.
From earlier exchanges, he could tell—this guy wasn’t that strong.
If he could beat him here, Gion would definitely notice him.
Even if not, he’d become the hero who saved Adis. Countless noble ladies would flock to him!
With that thought, Tokikake charged even faster.
"Vinsmoke Judge, Supreme Commander of the Evil Army! I, Tokikake, Lieutenant Commander of Marine Headquarters, in the name of justice—"
He didn’t finish.
Boom!
A boot crackling with blue lightning slammed into his face.
He was launched back twice as fast as he’d come, crashing into a fortress.
Not far away—
Momonga facepalmed in agony.
Judge wasn’t weak—Darren was just too strong.
Gion sighed, shaking her head.
Having punted the fool away, Judge turned back to Darren with bloodshot eyes.
"Damn you... one after another... You Marines are all such eyesores!!"
Boom!
Steam burst from his boots again, sending him soaring toward Darren.
He would not accept that the technology he’d developed with Vegapunk’s help had lost so badly.
But before he could strike—
Darren raised his hand.
An invisible magnetic force spread.
Judge froze midair.
Agonizing pain erupted in his limbs.
Squelch!!
The spear in his hand...
The boots on his feet...
Metal parts twisted like living snakes, piercing his arms and legs. Blood sprayed.
"Aaaaagh!!"
His scream was cut short as steel rods burst from the ground, coiling around him like serpents, binding him midair.
Clang!
A metal plate slammed over his mouth, silencing him completely.
His wide eyes were filled with veins and blood.
"Shh..."
The Marine Captain stepped before him, raised a finger to his lips, and smiled politely.
"I’m sorry... but your plan to conquer the North Blue—ends here."
To be continued...
Chapter 18: Then I Quit?
Chapter Text
Chapter 18: Then I Quit?
Evening.
Vernar, capital of the Kingdom of Yadis.
In a lavish side hall of the royal palace—
“Darren, you little bastard!! That was Germa!! A member state of the World Government! And you nearly wiped it off the map?!”
A furious roar came from the military Den Den Mushi placed on the tea table. The snail, with lifelike expressions, vividly mimicked Admiral Sengoku of Marine Headquarters in a full-blown rage, smoke practically fuming from its shell.
“Do you even realize what you’ve done?! Germa isn’t just any member state—it’s one of the few with the right to attend the Reverie!”
“What you did will bring enormous political pressure down on us!”
“Protecting member states is the Marines' duty and obligation!”
“…”
Darren sat casually on a soft leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a lit cigar between his fingers and a glass of whiskey with ice in his other hand.
He puffed away leisurely, clearly unbothered by Sengoku’s raging voice.
Nearby, Gion, Momonga, and Tokikake—whose face was still swollen like a pig’s head—stood silently, holding their breath, pretending to be invisible.
“Damn it!! Darren, did you even hear a word I said?!”
After ranting for two whole minutes with no response, Sengoku’s temper flared even further.
“Are you trying to get yourself fired from the position of North Blue Commander?!”
Darren chuckled, raising his glass slightly.
“Then I quit?”
Sengoku: “…”
On the other side of the line, in the Admiral’s office—
Sengoku fell silent, face turning red from suppressed fury.
The North Blue was a mess—he hadn’t forgotten the disasters caused by Borsalino and Sakazuki back when they held the post.
Only this cunning little bastard Darren had managed to whip the region into shape.
If he left, the North Blue would likely revert into a playground for pirates and mafia families overnight.
“…Just kidding,” Darren said, smiling more broadly. He took a light sip of his whiskey, feeling the spicy warmth slide down his throat, and added casually, “Don’t worry so much, Admiral Sengoku. I’ll take care of it.”
Sengoku’s eye twitched violently.
He inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to fly to the North Blue and beat Darren to a pulp on the spot.
“Darren, what exactly are you thinking…? One misstep in handling this could spark a chain reaction.”
His voice dropped low, filled with gravity.
“The Germa Kingdom has been a member of the World Government for three hundred years.”
“For a Marine to act against a member state… If this blows up, not even I can protect you.”
Darren exhaled a puff of smoke, his tone light and composed.
“I understand, Admiral Sengoku.”
“But this incident wasn’t unprovoked. Vinsmoke Judge led Germa 66 in an unprovoked attack on the Kingdom of Yadis, another member state. If I hadn’t intervened, Yadis would’ve already fallen into chaos and bloodshed.”
Sengoku’s mouth twitched.
You call that ‘intervention’? You nearly massacred their entire military!
Darren continued.
“And as for the North Blue’s instability—surely a man of your wisdom already sees it clearly.”
“Conflict and friction between nations are constant. This event sends a message. A warning.”
“As for Germa’s losses… Germa 66’s troops are mostly clone soldiers. These are products of cloning technology, and essentially, they’re weapons—not civilians.”
“With Vinsmoke Judge’s ambition and arrogance, I judged that only overwhelming force would drive the lesson home.”
“If he isn’t crushed completely, he’ll just become more and more arrogant, more and more reckless. And if he drags the region into war again, it won’t just be Yadis that suffers.”
“Imagine how many innocent civilians would die—how many happy families would be torn apart by Germa’s ambition.”
Hearing such righteous rhetoric, Gion and Tokikake both rolled their eyes in unison.
You're not worried about civilians. You just don’t want a war to mess with your side income.
Sengoku, on the other end, finally fell silent.
He knew full well what kind of man Vinsmoke Judge was.
Just as Darren said—Yadis was only his first step. His true ambition was to dominate the entire North Blue.
“…So, Darren. How do you plan to handle this?”
Sengoku’s tone had softened significantly, though it still carried weight.
Though he was furious with Darren’s methods, what was done was done. Pointless to scold him now.
Darren’s talent, resourcefulness, and achievements had already proven he was a rising pillar of the Marines.
And Sengoku also knew—this cunning little brat never caused trouble without a plan.
No matter how sensitive the political situation, he always found a clever way to resolve it.
“You don’t need to worry about that, Admiral.”
Darren flicked his cigar ash and smirked with interest.
“I’ll handle it. I’ll offer Vinsmoke Judge a deal he can’t refuse.”
“He won’t file a protest with the World Government. Germa will retain its member status. The Marines won’t suffer any fallout. And peace will return to the North Blue…”
He leaned forward slightly, his smile turning razor-sharp.
“…under Marine rule.”
Silence fell in the side hall, with only Darren’s calm and domineering voice lingering in the air.
Three seconds later—
“…Then I’ll leave it to you, Darren. No matter what, this must be handled properly.”
Sengoku’s heavy voice came through the Den Den Mushi.
Darren grinned with satisfaction.
“Mission accepted, Admiral Sengoku.”
Blrrk!
The call cut off.
Darren turned to Momonga.
“How’s the situation with Germa?”
Momonga reported calmly:
“We’ve mobilized 10 ships and over 5,000 troops from other North Blue branches. The entire Germa Kingdom is under our control. Their fleet is currently being ‘escorted’ out of Yadis waters.”
“As for Vinsmoke Judge—he’s been detained aboard our ship, just as you ordered.”
Darren nodded.
Years of cooperation had built deep trust in Momonga’s capabilities.
“What do you plan to do with Vinsmoke Judge?” Gion finally spoke up. “He’s still a king, after all.”
Darren looked at her, then smiled.
“That’s not something you need to worry about, Lieutenant Commander Gion.”
“Right now, we have something more important to do.”
“…What is it?” Gion blinked.
Darren clapped his hands and grinned.
“To celebrate our victory.”
To be continued...
Chapter 19: When the Marines Refuse Money, the People Get Upset
Chapter Text
Chapter 19 — When the Marines Refuse Money, the People Get Upset
As Darren clapped his hands, the ornately decorated side hall doors swung open.
One by one, soldiers of the Yadis Kingdom, dressed in standard military uniforms, carried in large wooden crates.
In less than a minute, dozens of crates had been stacked upon the marble floor, forming a small mountain.
“Darren... this isn’t what I think it is, is it?”
Gion stared at the obviously heavy crates, a sinking feeling rising in her chest.
At that moment, a man dressed like a butler entered, his face plastered with a flattering smile as he bowed and said:
“Lord Darren, I am the Minister of Finance of the Yadis Kingdom...”
He gestured toward the crates on the floor.
“This is a small token of gratitude from our kingdom. We hope the North Blue Marine Fleet, the upholders of ‘justice,’ will kindly accept it.”
As he spoke, he ordered the nearby soldiers to open the crates.
In an instant, Gion and Tokikake’s eyes widened, their mouths forming perfect O-shapes.
A dazzling radiance burst forth from the crates, lighting up the entire side hall in a cascade of brilliant color.
Clatter...
Piles of gold and silver treasures, thick stacks of colorful banknotes, rare jewels, premium cigars, and luxury liquors spilled from the overflowing crates like liquid mercury, flooding the air with the thick scent of wealth and indulgence.
“Th-this... this...”
Tokikake stammered, utterly dumbfounded by the mound of treasure before him. His bruised, pig-like face contorted in sheer disbelief.
How much was this worth?
He couldn’t even begin to count!
Growing up in Marineford, he had never seen this much money in his entire life.
Darren smiled with satisfaction.
“His Majesty is too kind. Protecting member nations is the solemn duty of the Marines—we’re merely doing what’s expected of us.”
The finance minister chuckled, bowing again.
“But of course. Who in all of North Blue doesn’t know of our esteemed Lord Darren—selfless, incorruptible, and utterly devoted to the safety of our people and their property?”
“To be under Lord Darren’s protection is the greatest blessing to the people of the North Blue.”
“But we simply can’t allow the Marine warriors to come all this way for nothing. Hospitality is a tradition of the Yadis Kingdom. Please, Lord Darren, don’t refuse.”
He sure knows how to talk... no wonder he’s the finance minister, Darren mused, about to nod.
But Gion suddenly stepped forward, her lovely face stern and angry as she gritted her teeth.
“No! We cannot accept this money!”
She spun around and glared at Darren, her voice sharp.
“We Marines must not accept funds from unofficial sources! Darren, this is a bribe!”
“If you dare take it, I’ll report you to HQ myself!”
Beside her, Tokikake jumped in with equal enthusiasm:
“That’s right! I’ll file a report too!!”
His overly animated reaction tugged at his swollen face, causing him to wince in pain as he seethed inwardly.
If it weren’t for that bastard Darren, I wouldn’t have gotten one-shotted by Vinsmoke Judge and embarrassed myself in front of Gion...
Hearing their outbursts, the finance minister’s smile froze.
He cautiously turned to Darren, asking respectfully:
“Lord Darren, these two are...?”
Darren took a leisurely puff of his cigar, smiling casually.
“Oh, they’re from Marineford HQ—Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake... my adjutants now.”
Direct from HQ?!
The finance minister instantly picked up the hint in Darren’s tone.
He hadn’t earned his title by being clueless. He quickly turned and bowed deeply to Gion and Tokikake.
“So you’re the esteemed Marines from HQ! I was truly blind—my sincerest apologies for the oversight.”
Gion’s expression remained solemn as she addressed him directly.
“Sir, let me make something very clear.”
“We Marines uphold justice and peace. Protecting civilians is our duty. We do not ask for compensation.”
She pointed toward the glittering riches, her voice resolute.
“We cannot accept this money. Doing so would be a grave insult to the very justice we stand for.”
“Of course, of course... Lieutenant Commander Gion speaks the truth.”
The finance minister nodded gravely.
“However, since you’ve come such a long way and fought valiantly, the Yadis Kingdom has prepared separate gifts for you both.”
“Lieutenant Commander Gion, you strike me as a skilled swordswoman. As it happens, our royal treasury holds a piece of refined steel perfect for crafting a fine scabbard.”
“And for Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, we have a selection of premium cigars...”
Gion: “......”
Tokikake: (★w★)
“I already said—we’re not taking anything!!”
Gion snapped.
The minister blinked, then smiled again.
“Of course, of course. In addition to the gifts, we’ve also prepared some well-deserved rewards for your contributions in battle.”
“Our treasury holds many exquisite blades for Lieutenant Commander Gion to choose from.”
“And for Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, our royal performers have prepared a special show.”
Tokikake: (☆▽☆)^o^
“Really?!”
His eyes lit up.
BANG!
Before he could finish, Gion sent him flying with a single kick, his head embedding into the wall, legs flailing helplessly.
“Minister... I meant to decline, not negotiate for more,” Gion said through gritted teeth, her face pale with fury.
The finance minister was stunned, eyes full of confusion.
Isn’t the refusal just part of the bargaining process? You mean... it wasn’t enough?
At that point, Darren couldn’t take it anymore. He sighed and spoke up.
“You’ve worked hard, Minister.”
“We’re grateful for these gifts. Please extend our deepest thanks to His Majesty from the North Blue Marines.”
The finance minister visibly relaxed and smiled again.
“In truth, this was all organized by the people. The enthusiasm was overwhelming—they gathered these donations to express their gratitude.”
“And tonight, the royal family has prepared a banquet in your honor. We sincerely hope you will attend.”
With that, he gave a polite bow and quickly exited the room.
As the doors closed, Gion could no longer suppress her frustration. She turned toward Darren, who was once again sitting with his legs crossed, and yelled:
“Darren—!”
Before she could continue, Darren waved his hand dismissively.
“Gion, you saw how awkward the minister was. If we don’t accept this money, he won’t be able to report back.”
“This is just how things work in the North Blue.”
“To them, if you don’t take the money, they won’t be at ease.”
“That idealistic sense of justice doesn’t apply in these waters.”
In a way, it was like giving a red envelope to a surgeon before an operation back on Earth.
If the surgeon didn’t take it, the family would worry all the more.
It wasn’t about the profession.
It was about human nature.
Seeing Gion still poised to argue, Darren shook his head.
“That’s enough. Go get ready. We’ve got a banquet to attend.”
To be continued...
Chapter 20: "Tokikake the People's Champion"
Chapter Text
Chapter 20: "Tokikake the People's Champion"
“Damn you, Darren!! You’ve betrayed the faith of justice! You’re a disgrace to the Marines! A blight on justice!”
An outraged roar echoed behind him as Gion unleashed her fury, but Darren merely laughed heartily as he stepped out of the palace hall.
He wasn’t concerned about what others thought of him.
Worrying too much about reputation only shackled one’s actions, preventing them from truly wielding their power.
This was a world where the strong devoured the weak—a world ruled by the primal laws of the jungle.
Darren never denied that some Marines genuinely upheld their sense of justice. In fact, he deeply respected those individuals.
They were willing to give their youth, their energy—even their lives—to protect what they believed in.
People like that were admirable. Noble, even.
It was precisely because of people like Gion—foolish, stubborn, idealistic—that this world still held a glimmer of hope.
But Darren knew he wasn’t that kind of person.
Because the path of righteousness was far too difficult.
He wasn’t blessed with Sakazuki’s monstrous talent, nor did he have Gion’s prestigious background and elite upbringing.
Ever since arriving in this world five years ago, every step he had taken through the chaos of the North Blue had been one of struggle and danger—like walking a tightrope on the edge of a cliff.
He had to be cautious. Meticulous. Always calculating.
Power. Wealth. Influence. Status. He needed to seize all of it—whatever the cost.
And now, it was time to reap the rewards of this latest victory.
With that thought, Darren’s pace quickened.
---
Night fell.
In the capital city of Vilna, the lights of the Kingdom of Yadis sparkled like stars, illuminating a festive night.
Inside the palace’s grand banquet hall, nobles, dignitaries, ministers, royal heirs, and wealthy merchants mingled in splendor.
Brilliant chandeliers cast dazzling light over the guests, refracting through their wine glasses into glimmers of crimson and gold.
Everyone was laughing and chatting with enthusiasm.
“Let me tell you, that battle was absolutely terrifying! Germa 66 really lives up to its name as an evil army. Their commander, Vinsmoke Judge, is as powerful as a monster…”
At one side of the hall, Tokikake—now dressed in a brand-new tailcoat—was dramatically spinning a tale, glass of wine in hand, surrounded by a flock of finely dressed noble ladies and young women.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” he continued, “the weapon he wielded was cutting-edge technology. His spear released currents strong enough to knock out an elephant in one shot!”
Gasps and soft exclamations spread among the crowd of women, hands fluttering to mouths in alarm and awe.
“And then?” one of them asked breathlessly.
Tokikake lowered his voice, injecting a deep magnetic tone as he gave a faint smirk—emulating the very image of Darren in his mind.
“Germa’s tech is powerful, no doubt,” he said modestly. “But I’m a genius forged by the Marine Headquarters. A man like Vinsmoke Judge was never my match.”
“I took one casual step forward—and bam! Sent him flying more than ten meters. And when he tried to resist justice’s righteous force, I had to shut him up myself.”
The ladies looked at him with sparkling eyes, their admiration near worship.
“You’re incredible, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake!”
“A true genius of Marine Headquarters!”
“Germa 66… defeated by you alone! Unbelievable!”
Every compliment felt like a massage to his ego. Tokikake felt like his pores were opening with joy.
The North Blue was heaven!
So many lovely noble ladies, the best wine, premium cigars, and an elegant dance troupe…
No wonder Darren refused to leave this place.
As for whether any of what he said was true?
Well… the battle took place a good distance offshore, with heavy sea fog blocking visibility. Even the royal army barely knew what had happened—let alone these sheltered young women.
Confident in the details of his tale, Tokikake took a thoughtful sip of wine, puffed on his cigar with practiced melancholy, and sighed softly.
“You know,” he said, “I’ve spent my life searching for a worthy opponent. I thought maybe, just maybe, the North Blue would offer a challenge… but in the end, I was disappointed.”
The ladies swooned.
“If even someone like Lieutenant Commander Tokikake says that… how powerful must Lord Darren be?”
“Yes! He’s so strong… and handsome… and charming…”
“Mmhmm, exactly!”
As thoughts turned to the highest commander of the North Blue Marine, blushes bloomed on delicate cheeks. The women giggled and swooned, utterly smitten.
Tokikake: …
Wait, weren’t we talking about me?
Why did this suddenly turn into a love letter to that bastard Darren?!
He’s not even at the banquet!
His face twitched, cigar trembling in frustration, a storm cloud forming over his head.
He took a furious puff.
“Um… Lieutenant Commander Tokikake?”
A soft, shy voice behind him broke through his frustration.
He turned instinctively and saw a girl in a flowing white lace gown, cheeks flushed, her hands twisting nervously in front of her.
She was beautiful. Innocent. Radiant.
His heart skipped a beat. His eyes turned into literal red hearts.
Love. This was love.
“I… I wanted to…”
Her gaze flitted up to meet his and darted away again, shy as a startled deer.
“…ask for your Den Den Mushi number,” she whispered.
She’s asking for my number!
She heard my story—she admires me!
She likes me!
Tokikake almost exploded from happiness. He nodded furiously.
“Of course! I’ll give you my personal line right now—”
“No… I wanted to ask if you know how to contact Commander Darren,” she said, blushing even deeper.
Crack!
Tokikake felt something shatter in his chest.
The red hearts in his eyes crumbled to dust.
In silence, he turned away—stone-faced, numb—and shuffled toward the far corner of the banquet hall.
There he crouched, back hunched like a collapsed balloon, motionless.
Tears streamed quietly down his cheeks.
Across the room, in a dazzling pink evening gown, Gion rejected her fifteenth dance invitation. Glancing at the black-aura-wreathed Tokikake in the corner, her lips twitched.
She took a sip of wine, then clenched her fist.
And elsewhere…
Darren stepped aboard his warship at the port, leaving the festivities behind.
To be continued…
Chapter 21: What Do You Want?
Chapter Text
“Captain Darren!”
On the deck of the warship, the North Blue Marines on duty immediately stood to attention and saluted the moment they saw Darren appear.
“You’ve all worked hard,” Darren said with a smile.
The Marines shook their heads humbly, then returned to their posts.
The treatment in the North Blue Marine far exceeded that of counterparts in other seas. Beyond their base pay, they enjoyed fixed paid leave, were equipped with the finest firearms and weapons, and received the highest-level military training in the region.
Each and every North Blue Marine knew in their heart: they owed all of this to their Supreme Commander.
Darren walked slowly into the interior of the ship, descending a narrow staircase toward the lower deck.
There, in the ship’s hold, a temporary prison had been set up.
This was where the commander of Germa 66, Vinsmoke Judge, was being held.
The moment he saw that damned Marine, Judge—tightly restrained in iron bindings and even gagged—began thrashing wildly. His bloodshot eyes radiated with hatred and fury, and muffled roars erupted from deep in his throat.
If looks could kill, Darren would’ve died a hundred times over under the searing, venomous glare Judge gave him.
With a casual wave of Darren’s hand, the metal plate sealing Judge’s mouth was yanked away and flung aside.
Immediately, Judge erupted in rage.
“You damned Marine brat!! How dare you imprison me!! You’re finished as the North Blue Commander!!”
“Germa is a member of the World Government! You’re dead—!”
His voice cut off.
Judge’s pupils contracted.
A sharp steel rod twisted out from the prison walls, slicing through the air to hover inches from his brow.
Reflected in his widened pupils, the tip of the rod shimmered with a cold light beneath the flickering torchlight—like a venomous serpent poised to strike.
“Finished talking?” Darren asked calmly, smiling.
Judge clenched his teeth in silence.
“Looks like you are.”
Satisfied, Darren beckoned with a finger, and the ‘serpent’ of steel slowly slithered back.
“Vinsmoke Judge, you’re right about one thing: Germa is indeed a member of the World Government. And by Marine protocol, my actions here will definitely cause me a lot of trouble.”
Darren lit a cigar and took a puff.
“But you forgot something...”
He gazed at the fallen king of the North Blue like a predator toying with its prey.
“You don’t represent Germa.”
Judge’s heart skipped a beat. His voice wavered with forced bravado.
“What do you mean!? I’m the head of the Vinsmoke family—the king of Germa! How can I not represent my kingdom?!”
“No, no,” Darren chuckled. “You still don’t get it.”
He exhaled smoke leisurely.
“This time, I seemingly destroyed a large portion of Germa 66’s army. But you and I both know—it was just clone soldiers. With enough funding and time, you could recreate them easily.”
“In the end, they’re not human. Just weapons.”
“And more importantly…”
“The World Government doesn’t care about member nations. The Gorosei don’t care. The Celestial Dragons care even less.”
“What they care about—is whether the member nations deliver their tribute: the Heavenly Tribute.”
“As long as Germa pays on time, the powers-that-be couldn’t care less who sits on the throne. It doesn’t have to be you, Vinsmoke Judge.”
Judge’s face turned pale.
“Ah, so now you understand,” Darren said with a faint grin.
With a wave of his hand, the steel cage binding Judge opened like a blooming flower. Behind Darren, the twisting metal reformed into an elegant steel chair.
Judge, though nominally free again, didn’t charge Darren. His face was grim, and he remained standing in place.
He knew—without his battle suit, he wasn’t a match for this man.
Darren sat down slowly, puffing his cigar as he smiled.
“I’m sure the other noble families in Germa would be very interested in the throne. And I’m sure they’d be more than happy to see you dead and gone.”
Judge’s expression darkened.
Darren wasn’t wrong.
Germa’s history stretched long. Though the Vinsmokes held power, other noble families still existed. After returning from MADS and reclaiming Germa through superior technology, Judge had seized power brutally.
Many were purged.
But not all were eliminated.
There were definitely those who would love nothing more than to see him die in Darren’s hands.
“You won’t kill me,” Judge rasped.
Darren laughed.
“That’s true. After all, you are technically a king of a World Government nation, and I’m just a lowly Marine Captain.”
“But I could hand you over to the World Government.”
“A scientist from the MADS group, one who worked alongside Vegapunk himself—I think the Government would be quite happy to have you in custody.”
Judge’s face twisted in alarm.
“What do you know?!”
He had gone to great lengths to escape the Government’s clutches and avoid becoming their research tool. How could this young Marine possibly know?
“You don’t need to worry about what I know,” Darren said calmly. “You just need to understand one thing.”
“If you cooperate, you get to keep your crown. Your army. Maybe, when I’m in a good mood, I’ll even help you achieve your dream of ruling the North Blue.”
“But if you resist?”
“I’ll hand you to the Government, and raise another noble to the throne. As long as they raise Germa’s tribute by 20%, the World Government won’t just overlook what I’ve done—they might even award me for it.”
Silence fell.
Judge’s face shifted between fury and despair.
Darren wasn’t in a rush. He smoked slowly, letting the silence speak for itself.
He knew Judge’s kind well.
Power-hungry. Arrogant. Vain.
Would he risk everything to save face, or surrender for the sake of power?
Darren already knew which path he’d take.
Thirty seconds later,
Judge finally raised his bloodshot eyes and spoke hoarsely:
“…What do you want?”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 22: Protecting a Celestial Dragon
Chapter Text
The following day, news broke from the World Government affiliate, the Germa Kingdom:
"Yesterday, Germa 66, alongside the North Blue Marine fleet, conducted a public joint military exercise in the waters near the Kingdom of Yadis. During the exercise, both sides demonstrated overwhelming combat prowess..."
"...The King of the Germa Kingdom and Commander of Germa 66, Vinsmoke Judge, expressed his appreciation for the cooperation with North Blue Marine Captain Darren and promised to sign a long-term friendly cooperation agreement to jointly maintain security, peace, and prosperity in the North Blue."
Inside the office of the 321st Branch Base Commander, Gion and Tokikake stared wide-eyed at the latest newspaper.
"How is this even possible!?"
Especially with the accompanying photo of Darren and Vinsmoke Judge standing under the seagull flag, shaking hands with bright, friendly smiles. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were long-lost brothers.
Just yesterday, they were trying to kill each other. They nearly wiped out all of Germa 66, and now they're shaking hands in less than twenty-four hours?
Gazing at that photo, the warmth and familiarity between them was unsettling.
"Why not? Vinsmoke Judge is clearly a reasonable man. After my patient explanation and guidance, he quickly came to understand the position of the North Blue Marines and our commitment to justice and peace."
Darren spoke calmly, lighting a cigar as he glanced at the stunned expressions on Gion and Tokikake.
"He realized that launching a war was a mistake and decided to correct it. Isn't that perfectly reasonable?"
Tokikake nodded slowly, feigning understanding.
"Mm, that... sounds reasonable."
"Like hell it is!!"
She gnashed his teeth.
With Judge's violent, arrogant, and stubborn personality, there was no way he’d be ‘convinced’ by a few pretty words.
Darren might have eaten the Magnet-Magnet Fruit, but this wasn’t the Inspire-Inspire Fruit!
"Darren, what did you do? Did you threaten him?"
Gion glared suspiciously.
"Ah, you caught me."
Darren raised his hands playfully, as if admitting defeat.
With a smile, he said:
"Honestly, I didn’t do anything. Like I told Admiral Sengoku, I simply made him an offer he couldn’t refuse."
"I just didn’t expect Vinsmoke Judge to be such a sensible man."
Gion and Tokikake: "..."
They knew better than to pry further. With that smug look on Darren’s face, there was no way he’d tell them the truth.
Even though they had no idea what method he used to force Judge into submission, the result was surprisingly satisfactory.
They had stopped a war.
Hundreds of thousands of citizens in the Kingdom of Yadis were spared.
The Germa Kingdom dropped all charges against the North Blue Marines.
Gion received ceremonial flags of honor from the royal family of Yadis.
Tokikake’s mansion was now stocked with crates of fine liquor and premium cigars.
Everything seemed to be heading toward a beautiful and prosperous future... or not.
Gion looked at Darren’s calm, self-assured grin and felt a surge of helpless frustration.
Coercion, deceit, corruption, violence, manipulation...
All things she had been taught were vile and incompatible with justice—yet, in Darren's hands, they had become the key to governing the North Blue.
It clashed with everything she believed in.
It overturned her entire worldview.
Buru buru... Buru buru...
Suddenly, the military Den Den Mushi rang.
Darren picked it up.
"This is Darren."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku’s hearty laughter boomed through:
"Hahaha! Darren, you little rascal! You really are the subordinate I can count on. You handled this matter brilliantly."
Gion and Tokikake rolled their eyes. They clearly remembered Sengoku shouting furiously just yesterday.
"All glory to justice. This was only possible thanks to your guidance, Admiral," Darren replied humbly.
"I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. And I must say, sending Gion and Tokikake to the North Blue was the right call."
"Those two are such a headache. Tokikake lazes around and keeps trying to sneak my cigars, and Gion... well, she’s just like her sister—far too idealistic."
As Sengoku ranted on, Darren glanced at the increasingly dark faces of Gion and Tokikake.
"...In short, they’re still young and inexperienced. Let them follow you around more to gain perspective."
Unaware of the looming danger, Sengoku’s voice grew more animated.
Ahem...
Sensing the murderous aura emanating from Gion, Tokikake gave an awkward cough.
Sengoku: "..."
The line went quiet.
"Admiral Sengoku, I heard you’re quite displeased with me?" Gion said coldly to the Den Den Mushi.
Sengoku: "..."
"Hello? Hello? Why is the signal so bad? Darren, did you hear what I said just now?! You take good care of Gion and Tokikake, they’re the future of the Marines and the hope of justice!"
"Hello? The signal’s... breaking up... can't hear you..."
Buru.
The Den Den Mushi went to sleep.
Call terminated.
Gion: "..."
Tokikake: "..."
Darren: "..."
They looked at one another.
Nearby, Momonga covered his face in agony.
That acting... was way too terrible.
But less than a minute later,
The Den Den Mushi rang again.
Darren picked up.
"Admiral Sengoku."
"Yes, Darren. I nearly forgot—there’s a critical mission."
Sengoku spoke as if nothing had happened.
"Please go ahead."
"Byrnndi World attacked a World Government vessel a few days ago. A Celestial Dragon, Saint Shaldes, was onboard and went missing after the incident. His escape pod drifted to Batiya Island in the North Blue."
"The Government has issued a directive. I’m en route to the North Blue myself."
Darren’s brows furrowed.
He remembered the headlines from a few days ago:
"Great Pirate ‘World Destroyer’ Byrnndi World sinks a Government ship. Celestial Dragons outraged. Bounty raised to 200 million Berries. The World Pirates now pose the greatest threat to the Government!"
"Admiral, what are my orders? Should I pursue Byrnndi World?"
Smoke curled from Darren’s cigar as his eyes narrowed.
Sengoku shook his head.
"No. You’re strong, but not strong enough to take him head-on. That task falls to me."
"Your mission is to head to Batiya Island immediately and protect Saint Shaldes."
"CP has dispatched agents to escort him back, but until they arrive, the Government needs local Marine forces to safeguard the Celestial Dragon’s life."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 23: As Expected of a Genius
Chapter Text
The sky was blue, the sea was vast, and white clouds drifted lazily above.
A massive battleship steadily cut through the endless azure sea, its wake trailing behind like a long ribbon of white.
In the dimly lit cabin below deck, Darren sat cross-legged alone, eyes closed.
The glow from an oil lamp cast a faint, flickering shadow of him against the wooden walls.
Three smooth metallic spheres floated in midair, orbiting his body with flawless centripetal motion.
Anyone witnessing the scene would be utterly shocked—because even while circling rapidly around the Marine captain, the distance between the metal spheres never wavered. Not by a millimeter.
Such perfect control required immense mastery.
Time passed slowly.
With a subtle twitch of Darren’s fingers, the three spheres morphed like liquid metal—stretching into sharp spikes, twisting into slithering chains, or flattening into shield-like panels of steel.
Then, at a certain moment, Darren opened his eyes.
The spheres drew together and melded into a silver metallic bracer that latched around his right wrist.
He exhaled slowly, a satisfied smile curving his lips.
Physique: 60.451
Strength: 55.890
Speed: 58.048
Fruit Mastery: 71.871
"As expected... real combat and bloodshed are what truly push you to grow."
Sensing his condition through the innate perception of his “Insight” talent, Darren couldn’t help but murmur to himself.
Over the past few months, his training had gradually slowed. His progress in speed and Devil Fruit mastery had all but stagnated.
Even with intense regimens, his stats were barely rising.
But after the recent clash with Germa 66, both his physique and strength had increased by over a full point.
Under normal training, such gains would’ve taken at least a month.
"Shame Germa 66 was too weak... couldn’t even get me warmed up," Darren said with a chuckle, lighting a cigar.
Germa 66 and Judge weren’t weak by any means—but Darren’s powers completely countered their technology.
In truth, had Darren not been there, Judge and his elite army could’ve easily overthrown the four northern kingdoms and seized total dominance over the North Blue.
“I miss sparring with that lunatic Sakazuki back in the day...”
A touch of nostalgia entered his gaze.
Before Sakazuki was transferred to Marineford for officer training, the two would often engage in brutal practice battles—devil fruit abilities prohibited.
Of course, to bystanders, those “sparring sessions” looked more like life-and-death brawls.
Sakazuki never held back. One slip, and you could end up dead—labeled as just another “training accident.”
Back then, Darren pushed himself to the brink every day. It was exhausting, painful... but also the fastest he’d ever improved.
But that was in the past.
Sakazuki had since trained under former Admiral “Black Arm” Zephyr. He had probably already mastered Haki by now.
The gap between them had widened.
After all, as Kaido once said—Haki is the strongest force on this sea.
With that thought, Darren rose from the floor.
He wasn’t anxious. The third round of officer training was approaching, and he had secured a spot.
He wasn’t a monster like Sakazuki or Borsalino. But Darren believed that with his talents and discipline, he could still carve out his place among the Marines.
Before that, however, he needed to forge the North Blue Fleet into a true force—armed with Germa’s tech, loyal only to him, and answering only to his command.
Determination flickered in his deep-set eyes as he opened the door and stepped outside.
Sunlight bathed the deck, where Marines were maintaining weapons, patrolling, and checking the cannons.
Further ahead, Tokikake and Gion were drenched in sweat as they trained relentlessly.
Tokikake was doing handstand pushups—with a one-ton barbell balanced on his back—gritting his teeth, veins bulging from his forehead.
Gion, poised and composed, practiced her sword forms with surgical precision. Each stroke carved the air with sharp whistling sounds.
"...Are they possessed or something?" Darren asked, puzzled, as he walked over to Momonga, who was standing nearby.
Momonga sighed, rubbing his temple. “The Germa incident really got to them. Especially Tokikake—he’s been training like a madman ever since we returned.”
Darren remembered the sight of Tokikake getting booted in the face by Judge and laughed aloud.
BOOM!
Suddenly, a towering column of water erupted beside the ship.
Waves crashed against the hull, sending the entire vessel rocking violently.
“What was that?!”
“Enemy attack?!”
“No—it’s a Sea King!!”
The Marines scrambled into action. Swords were drawn, rifles loaded, and cannons swiveled toward the disturbance.
A massive shadow loomed beneath the waves, rising toward the surface. It swallowed the sun above.
Then emerged—a colossal beast nearly 70 meters tall, with black scales, gills, and the serpentine shape of an enormous eel.
Its eyes, like twin lanterns, peered down at the Marines, maw opening to reveal rows of jagged fangs.
“A small Sea King, huh?” Darren remarked with mild interest.
At this point in time, Vegapunk had not yet developed seastone-lined hulls to make ships invisible to Sea Kings.
So it made sense that these creatures could still sense passing vessels.
Momonga reached instinctively for his blade—but Darren placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
Just then—
“Hahaha! Perfect timing!! You ugly lizard, you’ll be my test dummy today!”
With a thunderous laugh, Tokikake launched himself from the deck like a cannonball, aiming straight at the Sea King.
ROOOAR!!
The beast's crimson eyes gleamed with rage, clearly offended by the tiny “insect’s” arrogance. Its jaws snapped open, ready to swallow him whole.
BAM!!
Tokikake punched.
A shockwave burst forth, visibly rippling the air.
Cracks webbed across the Sea King’s teeth. Then they shattered like porcelain.
It stared, dumbfounded.
Just then—
CLANG!!
The hum of a blade echoed as Gion’s golden sword flashed through the sky.
SCHNK!!
A thin red line traced across the Sea King’s throat.
In the next moment—
BOOM!!
Its massive head tumbled into the sea, followed by its limp body. Waves surged upward, blood blooming across the ocean’s surface.
On deck, Tokikake struck a dramatic pose, basking in the moment.
Gion sheathed her blade, cloak fluttering behind her.
The crew stared, then erupted into cheers. Some were already casting nets for the meat.
“Impressive... the Headquarters' geniuses really are cut from a different cloth,” Darren murmured.
He could see it clearly—their strength had grown significantly since arriving in the North Blue.
Tokikake’s strength, speed, and physical conditioning had improved by at least 30%.
Gion, meanwhile... had grasped the “Flying Slash,” stepping into the realm of swordmasters.
And all this—after only a few days!?
Even if they weren’t quite monsters like Sakazuki and Borsalino, they weren’t far behind either.
“Hahahaha! Darren, did you see that!?” Tokikake strutted over, flexing his biceps. “That Sea King? I smashed its teeth with a single punch! You—”
BOOM!!
A massive surge of water exploded beside the ship again.
One.
Two.
Three...
Eight towering Sea Kings rose from the ocean, each over a hundred meters tall. They roared in unison, shaking the heavens.
Waves crashed over the deck as their immense bodies writhed and charged toward the ship.
The battleship shook like a leaf.
Darren raised a hand.
The metallic bracer on his arm detached, twisting and stretching into a spear.
With a sharp sonic boom, it fired, propelled by an intense magnetic force.
Air rippled as the weapon blurred forward at blinding speed—too fast for the eye to follow.
The eight Sea Kings froze.
Then—
SHNK! SHNK! SHNK!
Tiny puncture wounds exploded across their bodies. Blood sprayed like fountains.
BOOM!
The titans collapsed, one after another, crashing into the sea and drenching the ship.
Darren recalled the spear, which morphed back into a bracer. Calmly, he fastened it around his wrist.
Behind him, the corpses of eight Sea Kings floated lifeless in the blood-red sea.
He turned to Tokikake and asked casually:
“Now, what were you saying?”
Tokikake’s face twitched. “I was saying... you’d definitely do it better than I could.”
Darren gave him a pat on the shoulder, then looked toward the horizon.
An island silhouette appeared in the distance.
“Get ready. We’re making landfall soon.”
His lips curled into a smirk.
“Our mission this time—”
“Is to protect the great, noble, and most holy Celestial Dragon.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 24: Arrival
Chapter Text
North Blue, Batiya Island.
The Marine warship slowly docked at the port.
As the anchor dropped, Darren led the North Blue 321st Branch Marines down the gangplank and onto the land.
The moment his foot touched the ground, Darren raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"This... doesn't quite look like the Batiya Island I remember."
Batiya Island was one of the key transit hubs on several major trade routes in the North Blue. While its commercial throughput couldn't compare to the bustling islands of the Grand Line, it was certainly among the most prosperous in the region.
Countless merchant ships and trading caravans passed through the island to resupply, fueling a robust local economy.
And, where wealth gathered, so too did vice.
The island's prosperity and accessibility made it a breeding ground for corruption and criminal dealings. Mafia families, underground syndicates, illegal trades, and even piracy had long become part of the local landscape.
Darren had invested considerable effort over the past year to balance the chaotic powers here.
Yet even in his memory, Batiya Island had always been a place of bustling activity and unrelenting disorder.
What he saw now was... unexpected.
The once oil-slicked, congested docks were now immaculate, decorated with vibrant floral arrangements.
The streets were spotless, devoid of litter. The once-chaotic sidewalk stalls were now neatly aligned in perfect order.
Old buildings had been freshly painted white with blue roofs, giving the town a tidy, dignified appearance.
And in front of the town gate, a brand-new ten-meter-tall arch had been erected. Brightly colored characters hung from the top:
"Welcome, Saint Shaldes of the Celestial Dragons."
"After the Celestial Dragon's shipwreck, the mayor immediately issued a city-wide beautification order," explained Momonga, stepping up beside Darren and lowering his voice.
"He spent a large amount of tax funds to repaint the old buildings. And this color scheme? Supposedly it's inspired by the architecture of Mary Geoise, so the Celestial Dragon would feel 'right at home.'"
Gion and Tokikake both stood stunned.
Darren, however, chuckled.
Apparently, image projects existed in every world.
Still, it made sense.
To the world, the Celestial Dragons were self-proclaimed gods—supreme in authority.
In a backwater place like the North Blue, seeing a Celestial Dragon in person was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
And now, with one of these divine beings washed ashore in their territory, the mayor would of course go all out. A single compliment from a Celestial Dragon could very well change a man's life.
"How interesting," Darren said with a smile. He turned to the others and gave his orders:
"Get the troops into position. Establish a security perimeter around Saint Shaldes' area of activity. Screen for suspicious individuals. We can't afford any accidents."
He had no interest in protecting those pig-like Celestial Dragons. In fact, he'd be happy to eliminate a few.
But an order was an order. And in this case, success or failure could determine his entire political future in the Marines.
If something happened to a Celestial Dragon on his watch, not even Sengoku could protect him.
Darren had no intention of leaving the Marines.
He wasn't cut out to be a pirate. He had no desire to spend his life on the run.
He didn't consider himself a good man, but he did have a line. Attacking civilians? That wasn't something he could ever do.
And for someone like him, who had no cheat ability to rely on, the Marines—with their structured training and clear advancement paths—were the best option.
Most importantly, he'd already poured too much time and effort into the North Blue to give it up now.
"What about you?" Gion asked, frowning slightly.
She was no fan of the Celestial Dragons, either.
"I need to meet with the mayor and hand off some duties. As of now, the Celestial Dragon is still under the protection of the city's militia."
Darren gave her and Tokikake a casual wave.
"Besides, we have to make nice with the local government. We'll need their cooperation."
"Lieutenant Commander Momonga will lead the coordination. You two just support him as needed."
"You’re still unfamiliar with North Blue operations, after all."
Then Darren turned to Momonga.
"They’re in your hands."
Momonga nodded.
Seeing that the orders had already been given, Gion could only fall silent and watch Darren board a carriage headed toward City Hall.
"This way, Lieutenant Commander Gion, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake," Momonga said with a polite smile. He turned and led the Marines toward their assigned positions.
He knew Darren was going to handle something... delicate.
Bringing Gion and Tokikake along wouldn’t be appropriate.
The two exchanged glances but said nothing, eventually following.
---
Batiya Island.
City Hall.
Guided by a secretary in a form-fitting skirt, Darren entered the mayor's office.
The decor was lavish: fur carpets over marble floors, oil paintings on the walls.
"Ah! What an honor to receive you, Captain Darren. Please forgive me for not greeting you sooner!"
Moments later, a sweating, rotund man in a fine suit came jogging in—Mayor Hunter.
"Mayor Hunter, the fault's mine for disturbing your work," Darren said with a smile as he accepted a cigar the mayor offered.
Then he casually sat down on the plush leather couch.
"Not at all!" Hunter said with a forced laugh. "Ever since Saint Shaldes arrived, we've been in total chaos."
He wiped sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief.
Darren nodded and lit the cigar.
"Understandable. It's a once-in-a-generation occasion."
"I must say, the transformation of Batiya Island was quite a surprise. I'm sure Saint Shaldes will be pleased."
Delighted, Hunter quickly handed over a folder.
"Captain Darren, here's an updated report on Batiya's affairs."
As Darren flipped through the pages, Hunter explained nervously:
"Thanks to your... deterrence, the two main mafia families on the island have been unusually well-behaved these past six months. They've even paid their taxes on time."
Darren glanced at the final page and smiled.
"Hmm. Looks like they’re learning."
Hunter nodded rapidly.
"Of course! No one in the North Blue would dare disrespect you."
Hunter knew all too well what this man was capable of.
A year ago, Batiya had been a blood-soaked turf war. Crime families constantly battled for control.
Then Darren arrived.
With brutal efficiency, he uprooted nearly every criminal organization.
Hunter would never forget the rivers of blood, the piles of corpses.
And Darren, drenched in gore, standing over it all.
The last two remaining mafia bosses had knelt before him, trembling.
From that day on, Batiya had known peace.
The two remaining families divided the territory, paid their "taxes" without fail, and avoided all conflicts.
With gang violence gone, civilians thrived. The economy boomed.
"Same as always," Darren said, exhaling smoke.
"Tell them this: stay within the lines, and I’ll look the other way."
"Play nice... and the money will keep flowing."
His smile faded.
"But if I see civilians getting hurt on my turf..."
He grinned, cold and sharp.
"Well, I'm a Marine of justice, after all. Wouldn't you agree, Mayor Hunter?"
Hunter bowed even deeper, laughing nervously.
"Of course! Everyone in the North Blue knows Captain Darren is the very embodiment of justice!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 25: The Little Girl Selling Flowers
Chapter Text
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
Lieutenant Commander Momonga and his men, leading over a hundred Marine soldiers, were marching through the bustling streets of the town toward the residence of Saint Shaldes.
Gion followed quietly, her expression troubled as she stared at Momonga’s back.
Something felt off. She couldn’t shake the suspicion that Darren had deliberately sent her and Tokikake away, so he could act alone.
“Big sis, you’re so pretty!”
A sweet, childish voice suddenly piped up from the side, breaking Gion’s train of thought.
She blinked and turned her head.
Standing beside her was a little girl in a simple floral dress, no more than seven or eight years old. She carried a small backpack filled with neatly wrapped red roses.
The girl had large, bright eyes and bowed politely.
“Would you like to buy a flower?”
Gion’s heart nearly melted at the sight. She knelt down, a gentle smile spreading across her face as she patted the girl’s head.
“How much, sweetheart?”
The girl glanced nervously at the sword at Gion’s waist and spoke timidly,
“Big sis, it’s 200 Berry for one. Is that okay?”
Gion chuckled.
“That’s not something you need to ask me.”
She noticed the girl’s anxious eyes and added warmly,
“Don’t worry. I’m a Marine—we protect people like you.”
“This sword? It’s only for bad guys.”
“Really?” the girl asked.
Gion nodded with a smile.
“Of course. That’s our job.”
She glanced at the roses.
“I’ll take one.”
She pulled out 200 Berry and placed it into the girl’s small hand.
The girl looked thrilled. She clumsily took off her backpack and began to search through it with great care.
“Hmm… this one is the prettiest.”
She picked the most vibrant red rose and held it up proudly.
Gion took it and asked with a smile,
“Why are you out here selling flowers at such a young age?”
The girl smiled sweetly.
“Liya’s not little anymore! I can help Daddy!”
She beamed with pride as she looked at the roses in her bag.
“My daddy grows them. They’re as pretty as you, big sis!”
Gion laughed.
So her dad’s a florist?
“What about your mom?”
The girl’s eyes dimmed slightly.
“Mommy’s sick… Daddy said she went far, far away to get treatment.”
Gion paused, a flash of sadness in her eyes.
The girl then turned to Tokikake, bowed politely, and asked,
“Uncle, would you like to buy a flower too?”
Tokikake’s face darkened.
He crouched down with an awkward smile.
“Little one, I’m not even twenty yet. You should call me big brother, not uncle.”
The girl widened her eyes, carefully studying the man in the brown hat with a cigarette in his mouth. After a moment, she shook her head firmly.
“Nope. You don’t look like a big brother. You look like an uncle.”
Tokikake: …
He gritted his teeth and forced a smile.
“If you call me big brother, I’ll buy all your flowers.”
The girl’s eyes lit up—but then she hesitated. She nervously twisted her hands and looked conflicted.
“Liya really wants to sell them… but Daddy said we can’t lie.”
Thud!
Tokikake fell flat on his face.
He got back up, seething.
“Damn it! Open your eyes! I’m only 19!!”
He let out a desperate howl.
“That’s enough!” Gion sighed and, seeing the girl on the verge of tears, kicked Tokikake away. She gently patted the girl’s head.
“That uncle might look a bit scary, but he’s a good person. Don’t worry.”
The girl blinked and nodded.
She opened her hand, counted the 200 Berry, then split it—40 Berry into her left pocket, 160 into her right.
Gion tilted her head.
“Why are you separating the money?”
The girl replied seriously,
“Daddy said we have to give part of what we earn. That way, the people with weapons won’t bother us.”
Gion’s expression changed.
Just then, a man rushed over, grabbing the girl’s hand. He bowed nervously to Gion.
“I-I’m terribly sorry, ma’am. Liya was just babbling.”
Without another word, he scooped up his daughter and hurried off.
“Bye-bye, big sis! Bye, uncle!”
The little girl waved as she disappeared.
“Damn it!! I said I’m not an uncle!!” Tokikake shouted.
But Gion was silent, watching the father and daughter vanish into the crowd.
Giving up income… armed men… tax collection…
Her brow furrowed. She quickly strode forward and intercepted Lieutenant Commander Momonga, who was giving orders nearby.
“Lieutenant Commander Momonga, tell me—did Darren go off to do something shady again?!”
Her tone was stern.
Momonga sighed.
“Lieutenant Commander Gion, Captain Darren is the supreme officer of all North Blue. Naturally, there are matters only he can handle.”
“As his officers, our duty is to carry out his orders.”
“Our current mission is to ensure the security of Saint Shaldes.”
Gion shook her head firmly.
“No. I want to know where Darren really went.”
“If HQ already issued orders, then Marineford must’ve coordinated with Batiya’s governor. Darren had no reason to go himself.”
“And if protecting Saint Shaldes is so important, then as the mission lead, he shouldn’t have left.”
She bit her lip.
“Did he go to collect taxes from the mafia through the mayor?!”
Momonga froze—surprised.
Naïve as she was, Gion had nailed it.
“I knew it!” she growled, clenching her fists.
His silence had confirmed it.
“How could you?! The mafia may not be as violent as pirates, but they still suppress and exploit civilians!”
She glared.
“Darren’s long gone—a corrupt, fallen bastard beyond redemption.”
“But you, Lieutenant Commander Momonga! How could you side with the mafia?”
“We’re Marines! Our duty is to protect civilians—not to exploit them!”
She’d wanted to confront Darren long ago, but the Germa 66 war had gotten in the way.
Momonga looked into her eyes, seeing her fury and resolve, then sighed deeply.
Such noble conviction… too bad pure justice is useless in the North Blue.
“Lieutenant Commander Gion, look at that street.”
He pointed forward instead of replying.
“What do you see?”
Gion paused and looked.
Shops lined both sides, filled with merchandise. Families strolled happily with their children. The streets buzzed with laughter.
“…Peace,” she murmured.
“Yes.” Momonga nodded.
“But you don’t know… just a year ago, that street was one of the most notorious criminal zones on Batiya Island.”
“It was crawling with con men, thugs, killers… a darkness no Marineford elite like you could ever imagine.”
Before she could respond, he pointed at a nearby hospital.
“That used to be a shelter for the homeless.”
He pointed to the harbor.
“Our docking point? Once a corpse-filled ditch.”
“The road we walked down? A stinking trash heap.”
Gion and Tokikake’s expressions paled.
“Batiya was once one of the most chaotic hubs in all of North Blue.”
“Pirates raided freely. Dozens of mafia families ruled the streets.”
“Gunshots rang daily. Over 30% of the population was criminal. Over half the children joined pirates, gangs, or con artists before coming of age.”
“This prosperous island… was a breeding ground for evil.”
“…That can’t be…” Gion whispered.
She and Tokikake couldn’t connect this vibrant trade city with Momonga’s image of filth and chaos.
“Didn’t the Marines intervene?” she asked.
“Of course,” Momonga said bitterly.
“When Rear Admiral Sakazuki was here, he led multiple raids—slaughtering pirates and mafia alike.”
“But innocent civilians and officials died too. The political backlash got him transferred to HQ.”
“But at least it had results, right?” Gion asked.
“Results?” Momonga looked weary.
“No. It only made things worse.”
“That’s impossible!” Gion and Tokikake said together.
Momonga sighed.
“If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t believe it either.”
“But you can’t wipe them out—not in the North Blue.”
“Less than six months after Sakazuki’s purge, criminals, pirates, mafia—they returned like locusts. Batia fell back into chaos.”
“No one had a solution.”
“Borsalino’s indulgence failed. Sakazuki’s iron fist failed.”
“—Until a year ago, when Darren became commander of 321st Branch.”
Momonga’s tone shifted. When he said that name, his eyes showed admiration.
“He cracked down with brutal force—wiping out nearly all the gangs and pirates, leaving just two mafia families, and drew clear territorial lines.”
“He told me once, ‘Pirates and mafia can’t be eradicated—not here. Control is the key.’”
“By preserving two manageable groups, he balanced power and unified the island’s underworld.”
“Peace returned. Fearing Darren’s wrath and seeking profit, the two mafia families cooperated.”
“No more turf wars. Civilians could finally rest. Batia’s economy thrived. The city changed beyond recognition.”
“Crime dropped from over 30%… to under 5%.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 26: The Marines’ Greatest Problem
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Momonga’s words struck Gion and Tokikake like invisible hammers—each sentence hitting heavier than the last. Their expressions turned pale, minds shaken by the weight of a truth they had never imagined.
They had never once considered that this bustling, trade-thriving island had once been the lawless, hellish place Momonga described.
Even harder to comprehend was that this peace and prosperity had come about because Darren had propped up two mafia families to maintain control.
Everything they’d been taught at Marineford was being shattered, piece by piece.
“B-But… don’t mafia families earn their income by exploiting civilians?”
Gion’s voice trembled, her face pale, her eyes full of confusion.
“That’s right,” Momonga replied plainly. He didn’t sugarcoat it.
“But consider this—what’s worse? Living in fear of daily shootings? Watching your friends and family killed in gang wars? Seeing your child turn to crime or piracy just to survive in a rotten environment?”
“Or paying a protection fee in exchange for relative peace and stability?”
“This… is reality.”
Gion stumbled back two steps, her legs weak. She shook her head.
“But… if we, the Marines, wiped out all the mafia families, then civilians wouldn’t have to pay anything! Their lives would improve, wouldn’t they? Why leave any mafia at all?”
Momonga let out yet another sigh. He’d lost count of how many times he had sighed today.
“That… is exactly what makes Captain Darren so brilliant.”
He explained slowly:
“If you erase all the mafia families, what you’ll get is exactly what happened during Rear Admiral Sakazuki’s time. Within months—sometimes even weeks—countless new gangs rise to fill the void.”
“They fight for territory. The turf wars are brutal. And it’s the civilians who suffer the most.”
“But by leaving just two mafia families and clearly dividing their territories, Darren created a system. One where the two factions keep each other in check. Neither dares deceive the Marines. And more importantly—it makes them easier to monitor and control.”
“These two remaining families now protect their zones—fighting off pirates and rival criminal elements—not out of kindness, but for profit. But in doing so, civilians benefit indirectly.”
“The better the civilians live, the more protection money those mafia families can collect.”
“And because of Darren’s overwhelming presence, they know better than to go too far. They understand that everything they have was given to them—by him.”
Gion felt like lightning had struck her.
Using pirates and mafia… to protect civilians?
She had never heard of such a concept.
“But… shouldn’t the Marines be doing more…?” she muttered.
“No,” Momonga said quietly, his voice tinged with helplessness.
“The Marines can’t do more.”
“Because we’re just a military force under the World Government. And due to geography and politics, we only have law enforcement authority—not governance. We don’t have the right to establish long-term garrisons on independent islands.”
“In short, no matter what happens—pirate raids, gang wars, mafia turf fights—we Marines can only react. We can’t stay. We can’t protect civilians permanently.”
“That… is the Marines’ greatest problem.”
“Captain Darren’s approach—propping up mafia groups—is a way to govern and protect at the local level. It’s not traditional. But it works.”
“And most importantly, it allows him to allocate his true focus—on hunting actual dangerous pirates.”
“Lieutenant Commander Gion. Lieutenant Commander Tokikake. Do you understand now?”
Momonga looked them both in the eye. His tone was solemn.
If the Marines could deploy troops across islands, there’d be no need for any of this. They could simply protect the people directly.
But the system forbade it.
Because if the Marines had the right to garrison wherever they wanted, they’d stop being a peacekeeping force—and start looking like conquerors.
That’s something the World Government and all the kingdoms under it would never allow.
“I know both of you believe deeply in justice,” Momonga said. “And for that, both Darren and I respect you immensely.”
“Yes. You heard me right—I know Darren well. He may look wild and reckless on the outside, but it’s clear he doesn’t reject you two.”
Seeing their doubtful expressions, he added,
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t have discovered any of this.”
“Believe me—if Darren wanted to hide something, you’d never find a trace. Not even a whisper.”
Gion and Tokikake fell silent.
Momonga continued:
“I know you both have issues with how things are run in the North Blue. But this isn’t Marineford. The rules you learned there… just don’t work here.”
“And like it or not—this is the best era the North Blue has ever seen.”
There was pride in his voice now. A pride that came not from idealism, but from results.
Watching one island after another rise from chaos into peace—watching civilians walk freely without fear—that was the greatest reward his uniform had ever earned him.
Even if the methods weren’t always clean.
“Darren won’t explain this to you himself,” Momonga said. “He doesn’t care about what others think. He follows his own code.”
“But I’ll say it for him—he’s not the disgrace you think he is.”
Gion bit her lip.
“But still… taking money from the mafia—from civilians—just feels wrong…”
Momonga chuckled softly.
“Of course it’s wrong. But the North Blue Marines are broke.”
“And most importantly—Darren has one rule.”
He winked.
“If he takes your money…
…he gets the job done.”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
author's note:
This story leans more into realism than my previous work. It’s not all idealism — just a bit closer to how things might really be.
Your support and kind reviews mean everything. Thank you!
Chapter 27: I Want Her
Chapter Text
Gion walked forward absentmindedly alongside the other Marines, her dark eyes clouded with confusion.
Ever since hearing from Momonga about the real way Darren governed the North Blue, everything she saw—this prosperity, this peace—felt almost like a dream.
In that haze, she suddenly remembered something Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Tsuru once told her.
> “Gion, we Marines may carry justice on our shoulders… but sometimes, justice is powerless on this sea.”
“But why? Aren’t we the strongest military force in the world?”
“We are—but this ocean is vast. The light of the seagull flag can’t shine into every dark, filthy corner.”
“You may not understand this yet. That’s both a blessing… and a curse.”
…
Gion looked hollow. Beside her, Tokikake also seemed deflated, forgetting to interact with the citizens entirely.
Soon, they arrived at a luxurious mansion.
It was clearly newly built—blue roof, white walls, trimmed gardens with decorative flower beds.
Outside the estate, a few hundred poorly equipped local militiamen had formed a security line.
“Useless trash!! Can’t even handle something this simple!!”
A furious voice rang out from inside the mansion, followed by the sound of things being smashed.
Militiamen began to drop to their knees in waves, trembling and pale with fear.
Then a man emerged from the mansion—a figure draped in white silk, his head encased in a glass bubble, walking with arrogant authority. As he moved, the kneeling spread outward like ripples.
Saint Shaldes was furious.
He never imagined that this pleasure-filled “inspection tour” would end with him encountering that lunatic, Byrnndi World.
What infuriated him more was that some filthy commoner actually dared attack a World Government vessel—his ship, no less!
Most of his accompanying CP agents had died in that apocalyptic disaster at sea. Then a violent storm scattered the wreckage and washed him ashore on this island.
It was the most humiliating moment of his life.
“Damn it all…”
The blond-haired Celestial Dragon gritted his teeth in fury.
He glanced at the two remaining CP agents behind him.
His last guards.
“Move, filth! Don’t block my way!”
Annoyed, he kicked aside a kneeling militiaman. As he looked up, he saw a Marine in a white cape walking toward him.
“Saint Shaldes, I’m Momonga—Vice Commander of the 321st Branch of the North Blue Marines. By order of Marine HQ, I am here to ensure your personal safety.”
Momonga stepped forward, saluted, and spoke with a blank expression.
Saint Shaldes cast him a sidelong glance and sneered with disdain.
“Oh? So the World Government’s obedient little mutts have finally arrived.”
“And what’s this—just a vice commander? Where’s your superior?”
Momonga clenched his fist… then released it. His voice was low and steady.
“Captain Darren is coordinating with the city government to transfer security duties. Until CP reinforcements arrive, the North Blue Marines will ensure your protection.”
“Tch… I wasn’t expecting much from you mutts anyway. You’re barely good enough for guarding doghouses.”
He waved a hand dismissively, ignoring Momonga’s stiff expression, and looked around.
Then his eyes landed on Gion—and they lit up.
The greed and perversion in his gaze made Gion instinctively step back, her skin crawling with unease.
“Well, well, well… never expected to see such a beauty in the Marines…”
He leered at her, his eyes roaming up and down with open lust.
Momonga’s face darkened slightly.
Tokikake’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, unconsciously.
They had all heard of the Celestial Dragons’ twisted desires—and if he had truly set his sights on Gion…
“What a shame… she’s a bit too old. So close, so close… You almost became my eighteenth wife! Hahahaha!!”
Saint Shaldes laughed obscenely, waggling his eyebrows and sneering at Gion.
“Let’s go. I want some fun. Staying in this dump the past few days is killing me.”
With a self-important stride, Saint Shaldes marched out of the mansion, surrounded by uneasy Marines.
“That damned bastard… He actually dared to lay eyes on you,” Tokikake muttered angrily.
“I should be your husband, not him!”
Gion rolled her eyes and released her grip on her sword hilt. Deep down, though, she felt a wave of relief.
If she really had been targeted by a Celestial Dragon, the burden it would place on Vice Admiral Tsuru and the others would’ve been unimaginable.
“Let’s go…” Momonga said grimly.
“Lieutenant Commander Gion, stay far from him.”
Gion nodded, silently praying that nothing would escalate further.
The Marines quickly followed behind the Celestial Dragon.
A large procession formed, with Saint Shaldes at the head, strolling down Batiya Island’s main commercial street.
Everywhere they passed, lively streets fell into utter silence.
Civilians dropped to their knees in waves, bowing like tidal surges—faces pale, eyes terrified.
For eight hundred years, the World Government had ruled the world like an unshakable titan. Before such “gods,” the common people could only tremble in reverence.
But then—
A small, innocent voice rang out.
On that silent street, it echoed sharply—like a scream in a tomb.
Gion’s face turned white.
Momonga and Tokikake’s pupils shrank.
They turned their heads, bodies stiff with dread.
A little girl stood there, her black hair tied up, wearing a simple floral dress. A huge bouquet of flowers rested on her back.
She smiled sweetly, lifting a fresh red rose high into the air with both hands.
“Uncle, would you like to buy a flower?”
Time froze.
In the eyes of Gion and the others, a sense of horror crept in.
On Saint Shaldes’s hideous, pockmarked face, a slow, twisted grin began to form.
His expression flushed red with excitement.
His eyes blazed with greed and possessiveness.
It was the gaze of a child who had just found a shiny new toy.
Gion and Tokikake tensed ins
tantly, jaws clenched.
They saw the bloated Celestial Dragon raise a fat, ring-covered finger—his grin feral.
“I want her!!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 28: Greetings, Saint Shaldes
Chapter Text
“I want her!!”
Saint Shaldes’s frenzied snarl echoed through the dead-silent street.
Gion and Tokikake’s faces instantly turned ghost-white.
Then, a man covered in mud and dirt burst through the kneeling crowd in a panic. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees with a thud before Saint Shaldes.
Pulling his daughter behind him, he shielded her with his own body, trembling as he said in a shaking voice:
“M-My Lord… I’m so sorry… My daughter was in your way. I’ll take her and leave right now…”
Seeing the fear on her father’s face, little Liya finally realized she had done something wrong. Her face turned pale, and her tiny hands clung tightly to the hem of his shirt.
“In the way? No, no, no… she’s not in the way at all,” Saint Shaldes chuckled darkly, his gaze still glued to the girl with sickening obsession.
“She’s your daughter, isn’t she? Hm. Not bad.”
“Starting today, your daughter is about to receive the greatest blessing of her life—she will become the eighteenth wife of the great Saint Shaldes!! Hahahaha!!”
The middle-aged man’s legs gave out. His eyes went wide in shock.
He bowed deeply, forehead to the ground, eyes bloodshot.
“Please, Saint Shaldes… Please don’t take her. She’s all I have left in this world.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of his forehead striking the ground rang sharply through the silence. He hit the ground so hard that blood stained the stone beneath him.
Behind him, the little girl was frozen in fear. Thick tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Hmph.”
Saint Shaldes snorted with annoyance. He lifted his foot and stomped on the back of the man’s head.
“What’s this? Still not willing?”
“You should be honored that I chose your daughter! It’s the greatest glory your pathetic lives will ever know!”
“Do you realize how many people across the seas would beg to have their daughters marry a Celestial Dragon?”
“Your daughter becoming my wife means you’ll live in luxury for the rest of your life, elevated above the filth of commoners!”
The man’s face was twisted beneath the Celestial Dragon’s foot, bleeding against the cobblestones.
Still, he gritted his teeth and forced out a pained smile.
“Saint Shaldes… I appreciate your offer… but Liya is just a child. I only wish to live peacefully with her…”
Saint Shaldes’s face twisted in rage. He kicked the man hard in the face.
The man rolled several meters away, his face swelling instantly as blood poured from his mouth.
“Papa…”
The little girl finally cried out in sobs.
Gion’s face darkened, her hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of her sword.
Tokikake clenched his fists, grinding his teeth.
The surrounding civilians remained on their knees, trembling, eyes cast downward, too afraid to speak or even look up.
The Celestial Dragons—descendants of the nineteen kings who founded the World Government 800 years ago—lived as “gods.” They possessed ultimate authority and all privileges.
Anyone who dared challenge or offend them would face the wrath of the entire World Government.
Even a single slight could summon an Admiral or CP0 to protect them.
To be “chosen” by a Celestial Dragon… was not a blessing.
Everyone on this sea knew the perverse, twisted obsessions of the Celestial Dragons. They didn’t hide it—on the contrary, they flaunted it.
They called them “wives,” but they were nothing more than playthings.
Celestial Dragons didn’t see others as people, only insects. The life or death of a toy meant nothing to them.
In truth, for someone taken by a Celestial Dragon, death was often the best they could hope for.
If this girl would become Saint Shaldes’s eighteenth wife…
Then what happened to the other seventeen?
The answer needed no words.
“Hahahaha! Come now, let’s go back to Mary Geoise.”
Saint Shaldes didn’t even glance at the bloodied man on the ground. He laughed and stepped toward the girl, hand outstretched.
“No! You’re a bad man! I don’t want to go with you!!”
Tears welled in Liya’s eyes. She bit down on Saint Shaldes’s hand and broke free of his grip.
He screamed in pain—but his eyes gleamed with even greater excitement.
“Yes… Yes! That look in your eyes. It’s perfect!”
He licked his lips and stared down at the little girl struggling to stand her ground.
Her face was pale with fear, but she still resisted.
It thrilled him.
Such a precious reaction—he knew he wouldn’t grow bored of it anytime soon.
“Grab her,” he ordered the two CP agents behind him. “Don’t hurt her. If you do, I’ll feed you to the dogs.”
The agents nodded and closed in around the girl.
“Damn it! No!!”
The man on the ground gasped and stumbled to his feet, face soaked in blood. With a roar of fury, he charged toward Saint Shaldes.
One of the CP agents stepped forward and punched him hard in the gut.
The man bent in half, eyes bulging, gasping for air.
He collapsed to the ground, coughing up a thick pool of blood.
“What an ungrateful little worm…”
Saint Shaldes growled with irritation. He drew a gold-plated pistol.
“Damn it—!” Tokikake cursed under his breath, bending his knees to strike.
Gion gripped her sword tighter.
Just as the two were about to act—
A shadow appeared between them.
A tall figure moved like a ghost, placing one hand on Tokikake’s shoulder and the other firmly over Gion’s sword—pushing it back into its sheath.
The two froze. Before they could react, their pupils shrank, thin blood vessels spreading into the whites of their eyes.
“Die, you ungrateful commoner!!”
Saint Shaldes shrieked with glee.
The man looked on in despair.
The little girl’s cries tore through the air.
Bang!
A gunshot.
Then—silence.
Everyone froze.
The CP agents froze.
Saint Shaldes froze.
The man and the girl froze.
A low humming filled the air.
In front of the man’s forehead, the golden bullet trembled in midair.
Suspended.
As if some invisible force had locked it in place.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three…
“DAMN IT! WHO DID THIS?!”
Saint Shaldes roared, veins bulging across his forehead.
From the gathered Marines, a presence stepped forward.
A deep, cold aura rolled with every step.
He had short, dark hair. His features were sharp, chiseled like stone. His face cold as a cliffside.
He was tall—nearly three meters—and imposing.
A white Marine coat billowed behind him, though there was no wind.
He stopped in front of the bleeding man, reached out, and plucked the bullet from the air.
Then he turned.
His towering frame loomed over Saint Shaldes like a mountain. The pressure was suffocating.
The black-haired Marine looked down at the Celestial Dragon.
Only when Shaldes, unable to bear the weight of that stare, unconsciously stepped back—
Only then did the Marine smile and speak:
“Captain Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, reporting to Saint Shaldes.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 29: I Like You
Chapter Text
“Captain Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, reporting to Saint Shaldes.”
The Marine Captain’s voice—casual, smooth, and laced with magnetism—echoed across the silent street.
The bloodied man stared blankly at the tall figure before him, frozen in place.
Gion and Tokikake exchanged shocked glances.
Darren had caught the bullet…
He had just stopped a Celestial Dragon from pulling the trigger.
And yet, for some reason, both Gion and Tokikake felt… relieved.
“North… North Blue Commander?”
Saint Shaldes flinched. The cold, suffocating aura of the man before him made sweat bead on his back. Trying to muster authority, he barked:
“You… you dared to stop me?”
Then he snapped, voice rising to a shriek:
“You dared to defy a Celestial Dragon?!”
Darren chuckled.
His eyes narrowed, a sly grin curling across his face like a fox.
“No, Saint Shaldes, you’ve misunderstood.”
“I didn’t stop you.”
“I simply thought…”
Suddenly, Darren turned, and with a swift, brutal kick, slammed his black military boot into the man’s gut.
The sheer force of the blow didn’t even allow the man time to scream. His body arced like a broken kite, trailing blood as he flew more than ten meters through the air.
Whether he lived or died—unknown.
“Tch…”
Gasps rippled through the street.
Gion and Tokikake’s eyes filled with bloodshot rage. Their bodies tensed, one gripping her sword, the other ready to leap.
But before they could move, Momonga stepped in front of them, his voice low and ice-cold:
“Do you want everyone on this island to die because of your stupidity?”
That single sentence, filled with grim authority, hit them like a bucket of ice water.
Their trembling eyes widened. Their breaths turned heavy. Their clenched muscles—reluctantly—relaxed.
They understood.
If they acted now, if they provoked the Celestial Dragon, his fury could doom the entire island.
One civilian’s life wouldn’t be enough to atone.
Everyone would pay.
They clenched their jaws so tight, it was a wonder their teeth didn’t break.
Saint Shaldes, meanwhile, stood stunned. He couldn’t quite figure out what this Marine Captain was playing at.
Then Darren slowly retracted his foot and turned to him with a grin.
“No need to dirty your hands on a lowly commoner, is there, Saint Shaldes?”
The Celestial Dragon blinked—then burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha!! Excellent! A proper lapdog of the Celestial Dragons. You know your place!”
Darren’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“To serve the great Celestial Dragons, to serve the noble World Government—that is the Marine’s duty.”
Gion and Tokikake stood off to the side, eyes blazing, their chests heaving in fury.
Darren took a step closer to Shaldes, lowered his voice, and said smoothly:
“With your status, Saint Shaldes, there’s no need to waste time on trash like that.”
“You’ve honored the North Blue with your presence. As a token of our gratitude, we’ve prepared a small gift. Please accept it.”
“It’s a modest show of our respect for your greatness… and a personal gesture from me.”
He clapped his hands.
Within seconds, Mayor Hunter arrived, leading a dozen militiamen struggling to carry several massive crates. He jogged over with a greasy smile.
“Saint Shaldes, it’s an honor!”
The mayor bowed low, his face a picture of obsequious flattery.
Saint Shaldes didn’t even glance at him. He merely narrowed his eyes at Darren, then stepped forward and cracked open one of the crates.
A dazzling flood of gold and silver spilled through the crack, the glint of treasure shining onto the street.
The Celestial Dragon finally smiled.
“Hmm…”
He closed the crate, nodding in satisfaction.
“You’re Darren, yes? Excellent. I like you.”
“With talent like yours, remaining a mere North Blue Commander is a waste.”
Though Celestial Dragons wielded absurd power, they were still often short on money.
The World Government did fund them with inconceivable sums, but their greed and decadent lifestyles consumed wealth faster than it could ever be replenished.
Darren smiled and shook his head.
“I only serve the Marines and justice. It doesn’t matter where I’m stationed—as long as I’m useful.”
“The North Blue may not match the Grand Line in spectacle, but I grew up here. I care deeply for this sea.”
“Saint Shaldes, the World Government’s envoys arrived at the port two minutes ago. For your safety, I suggest departing for Mary Geoise as soon as possible.”
Saint Shaldes nodded.
“You’re right… The air here reeks of filth and lowborn stench. It’s disgusting.”
He wrinkled his nose and glanced at the white-walled, blue-roofed buildings nearby.
“And the architecture? Utterly tasteless imitation.”
Mayor Hunter wiped sweat from his brow, forcing a smile.
“Saint Shaldes, thank you for your insight! I’ll order renovations immediately!”
He turned and barked at the militiamen:
“You heard him! Move faster! Get the gifts to the port—now!”
Darren gestured politely.
“Right this way, Saint Shaldes.”
The Celestial Dragon smirked and was about to move—when he suddenly stopped.
“Oh… I almost forgot.”
Gion and Tokikake’s faces paled.
Saint Shaldes looked greedily toward the little girl, Liya—her face deathly pale—and then turned back to Darren with a sly smile.
“I want my wife brought aboard.”
“She’ll come with me to the Holy Land. We’ll hold the wedding once we arrive.”
The words left his mouth—
And the smile on Darren’s face… slowly vanished.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 30: Live On
Chapter Text
“Take her.”
Saint Shaldes burst into triumphant laughter as he gave the order to his two CP bodyguards.
“No… please, no…”
Little Liya's eyes were swollen from crying. As the two men in black suits approached her step by step, she backed away in terror, trembling uncontrollably.
The CP agents showed no emotion. They grabbed her by the arms and shoulders, violently dragging her forward. Her breathless sobs were ignored, and red welts began to form on her delicate skin.
The civilians kneeling nearby couldn’t bear to watch. One by one, they turned their heads away.
Gion and the other Marines stood motionless, their faces dark as ash. Rage boiled inside them, hot enough to burn their very bones—but their limbs felt like they were filled with concrete. Heavy. Useless. Powerless.
Darren inhaled deeply.
“Saint Shaldes…”
“What is it, Captain Darren? Do you have a problem with my decision?”
The Celestial Dragon cut him off with a mocking smile, eyes narrowed in provocation.
Darren’s gaze narrowed—but then, strangely, his face lit up with an even more radiant smile than before.
“Of course not. It is her great fortune to be chosen by you, and a glorious honor for the North Blue.”
“I merely feared that your two subordinates might accidentally harm your wife. Allow me to assist.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Darren vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of the girl.
No one even saw him move—but the two CP agents suddenly stumbled backward, as if pushed by an invisible force.
Darren casually flicked his hand. One agent’s sword ripped from its sheath, flew into the air, twisted like molten metal, and reshaped into chains. The metal wrapped around the girl's arms and legs like a pair of shackles.
The leftover material formed a gag, silencing her cries in an instant.
Only her wide, tear-filled eyes remained uncovered—full of terror and confusion.
Darren stepped forward and knelt down, meeting her hateful gaze with a blank expression.
“To serve the great Saint Shaldes is your greatest honor.”
He took her by the hand and led her—empty-eyed, hopeless—straight to the Celestial Dragon.
“This way, at least, your journey will be peaceful.”
Saint Shaldes looked at him… and suddenly burst into laughter again.
“HAHAHAHA! Entertaining! Very entertaining! You’re a fun little Marine, aren’t you?!”
His gaze toward Darren was filled with admiration and perverse amusement.
“You, Darren… you’re good. I’ll put in a word for you with the old men at the top.”
Surrounded by the furious, despairing stares of the crowd, Darren bowed slightly and smiled.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“HAHAHA… let’s head back.”
At his command, one of the CP agents crawled forward like a loyal dog, hands and knees on the ground.
Saint Shaldes climbed onto his back and arrogantly gestured toward the port.
The other CP agent followed behind, dragging the girl like a broken doll—her soul seemingly shattered.
“No… don’t…”
A hoarse voice called out.
Everyone froze.
The girl’s father—covered in blood—was dragging himself up from the ground, barely breathing. He reached a trembling hand toward the departing Celestial Dragon, as if trying to pull his daughter back.
But there was nothing he could grasp.
Gion’s face twisted with sorrow. She stepped forward to help him up.
“I’m sorry…”
She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.
Out at sea, the ornate government vessel raised its sails and disappeared beyond the waves.
And then… the man smiled.
A broken, contorted smile—filled with sorrow, despair, and hollow absurdity.
“Maybe… maybe Liya will have a better life…”
Gion tried to say something—something even she didn’t believe.
“You should live on too—”
CRACK!
The man slammed his skull into the wall beside him.
Blood sprayed across Gion’s face.
Her vision blurred—everything dyed in red. Her senses turned inside out. The world twisted like a descent into hell.
She vaguely saw the man’s blood trailing down the pristine white wall—freshly painted for the Celestial Dragon’s arrival.
Crimson on snow-white.
A spiral of colors in her mind.
That sound—the sickening thud of his skull hitting stone—echoed again and again in her head, buzzing like a curse.
Screams broke the silence.
Someone shouted for a doctor. Footsteps. Panic.
“He’s still alive!”
“Get help—NOW!”
“We can still save him!”
…
Gion knelt there, dazed and numb.
In her hand, she still clutched a single blooming rose.
Its thorns had pierced her palm. Blood trickled down her fingers.
But she didn’t even feel it.
“Live on.”
She finally realized how absurd those words were.
Liya’s mother had died from illness. Her father had lived for his daughter—she was all he had left.
And now… she was gone.
Taken from him by force.
This man—this dirt-covered, broken man—was now alone.
What reason did he have to live? What strength could keep him going?
In a haze, Gion remembered her words to the girl:
“Don’t worry. I’m a Marine. I’ll protect you.”
“Of course. That’s the duty of a Marine.”
Gion began to tremble.
She looked up. Her eyes were lost, empty.
The sky above was grey—dim and heavy, as if the light itself had been swallowed.
BOOM—!!
A clap of thunder echoed across the heavens.
And then… snow began to fall.
White flakes drifted gently, like feathers.
“…Snow? In the middle of summer?”
She muttered in disbelief.
In the year 1492 of the Sea Calendar, the tropical island of Batia saw its first snowfall in decades.
The snow wasn’t cold.
It settled softly onto Gion’s shoulders as she turned, stunned, toward the silent figure standing nearby.
The Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines.
Captain Darren.
His back stood tall and motionless, and her mind froze—numb.
And in that moment…
She understood.
She finally understood what Admiral Sengoku meant:
“This ocean… is far too vast. The light of justice can’t reach every dark, filthy, and twisted corner.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 31: A Reason
Chapter Text
Batiya Island.
Hospital.
“The head injury appears minor. Strangely enough, the impact wasn’t as forceful as expected. He should recover after some rest.”
“I understand. Thank you, doctor,” Momonga replied flatly.
The doctor gave him a complex look before quietly leaving the room.
In the empty ward, Momonga stood over the unconscious man on the bed. He pressed his lips together and exhaled heavily.
“Damn it… damn it all!”
Not far away, Tokikake’s eyes were bloodshot as he slammed his fists against the wall again and again.
Bang! Bang!
Plaster crumbled and dust fell. The wall was now filled with dents streaked in blood.
“She called me ‘uncle’… Uncle! She called me that!!”
He let out a roar like a wild beast.
Blood dripped from his fists, but he didn’t even notice.
Gion sat still beside the hospital bed, eyes closed, fingers interlaced at her brow in silent anguish.
Then suddenly, she stood up.
Her bloodshot eyes turned sharply toward the man standing by the window, calmly smoking a cigarette.
“Darren!!”
“How can you still be smoking?!”
Her voice cracked with fury she couldn’t explain—so raw it turned hoarse.
“You call yourself the ruler of the North Blue?! You think you’re so powerful?!”
Darren finished his cigarette, lit another without pause.
Gion’s anger surged. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“Say something!”
She bit her lip so hard it bled.
Darren exhaled a long stream of smoke, casually flicking his ash.
The tray on the windowsill was already piled high with cigarette butts.
The room was unbearably silent.
Like a tomb that buried the living.
Momonga looked at Gion, then at Darren, lips parting—but he couldn’t say anything. His expression was tangled.
“…What else could I have done?”
Darren’s voice finally cut through the quiet.
Gion froze.
A bitter, mocking smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
He turned, laughterless, eyes cold.
Then he glanced at the clock on the wall.
Gion’s face paled.
What else could he have done?
He was just a Captain. A mere North Blue commander.
Even if Admiral Sengoku himself had been there—it wouldn’t have changed anything.
Because the man they were dealing with…
Was a Celestial Dragon.
One of the World Nobles, untouchable and above all laws.
If any of them had acted—even the Marines present—Saint Shaldes’s wrath would have burned the entire island.
All the civilians of Batia would have paid the price for their defiance.
“…Am I still alive…?”
A weak voice broke the tension.
Everyone turned sharply.
The man on the bed slowly opened his eyes, struggling to stay awake.
“…Liya… Liya…”
He murmured, hollow and broken.
Then, spotting Darren by the window, his body shuddered.
“Marine sir… Commander Darren…”
He gritted his teeth and tried to sit up—only to collapse off the bed.
Gion rushed to help, but he waved her off.
Bloodshot eyes filled with desperation locked on Darren.
“You saved me…”
Gion and Tokikake both stiffened.
They recalled the doctor’s words.
The impact wasn’t that strong.
Then they saw it—the man’s belt buckle.
Metal.
Realization dawned.
Darren had prevented the suicide.
“If you’re alive, then live.”
Darren took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled, voice calm.
“Under my watch, no civilian dies an unnatural death.”
“No… Commander Darren…”
The man knelt weakly on the floor, tears in his eyes.
“Please… save my daughter…”
“She lost her mother to illness when she was little…”
“She’s so good… so sweet… never cried, never complained. She even helped me sell flowers on the street…”
“Flowers…”
Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, he slapped himself across the face.
SLAP!
And burst into tears.
“It’s my fault… If I were stronger… If I hadn’t let her go out there alone… none of this would’ve happened…”
He sobbed uncontrollably, banging his head against the floor.
“Please, Commander… Save Liya… She’s all I have left…”
“I’ll do anything! Be your servant… your killer… take my garden, my money—everything I have…”
“Please…”
He frantically searched his dirty clothes, pulling out wrinkled bills and handfuls of coins caked with mud.
His hands trembled from weakness. The coins slipped from his palms and scattered across the floor.
Clink. Clink. Clink…
They spun briefly, then stilled—stained with dirt and blood.
On the surface of the fallen coins, Darren’s reflection stared back.
Cold. Unmoving.
“…You misunderstand.”
Darren stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his coat from the rack.
As he flung it over his shoulders, the word Justice unfurled boldly across his back.
Majestic. Cold. And absolute.
The man looked up at the imposing figure, his expression lost.
Darren sighed and met his eyes.
“I’ll say it again: under my command, no civilian dies an unnatural death.”
He glanced at the crumpled money on the floor.
“As for your payment…”
Darren gave a crooked smile.
“I’ve already accepted it.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
Gion called out, heart racing with unease.
Tokikake stared at Darren’s back, fists dripping with blood.
“It’s time.”
Darren didn’t look back.
Time…?
Gion and Tokikake froze.
They suddenly recalled: since they entered the room, Darren had kept checking the clock.
He was waiting for something.
Before they could react, Darren had already left the ward.
His boots echoed down the hospital corridor—sharp, steady.
His eyes grew colder with each step.
“Darren!”
A voice called from behind.
He turned.
It was Momonga, catching up.
He hesitated.
“Earlier… Lieutenant Commander Gion bought a flower from the girl. She didn’t know what would happen…”
“I know.”
Darren cut him off.
He smiled faintly.
“You seem to think well of her.”
Momonga smiled bitterly.
“There aren’t many people left in this sea… who believe in justice as purely as she does.”
Darren didn’t answer.
It was true.
That was why he didn’t hate Gion.
Her anger wasn’t directed at him.
She knew the truth—knew that no one, not even she, could’ve changed the outcome.
Her anger was with herself.
With her powerlessness.
With the weakness of justice.
With the cruelty of the world.
“…Anything else?”
Darren asked.
Momonga hesitated.
“Are you really going?”
“No Marine has ever done this.”
“You don’t have to…”
His voice faltered.
Darren chuckled.
“Momonga, you’re right. I have a thousand reasons not to go.”
“This world is filled with tragedy. There are countless horrors caused by Celestial Dragons alone.”
“I’m just the North Blue Commander. I can’t save everyone.”
“If I do this, I risk everything. If I’m found out, no one will be able to protect me.”
“As a Marine, I serve the World Government. I’m supposed to get used to injustice.”
“And all this… for one little girl I don’t even know?”
“One misstep… and everything I’ve built in the North Blue collapses.”
“…Yes. There are so many reasons not to go.”
He paused.
Then smiled.
“But I only need two reasons to go.”
“And those two are enough to crush every excuse.”
His voice turned sharp. Cold. Unyielding.
“First—this is my territory. And I won’t allow anything like this to happen on my sea… even if
the one responsible is a Celestial Dragon.”
“Second—his face disgusts me. And I want to kill him.”
Darren’s smile twisted into something feral.
“…The kind of disgust I can’t suppress—no matter how hard I try.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 32: The Only Hope
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
In the quiet corridor of the hospital, two men faced each other.
Outside, snow drifted gently through the air.
Yet to Momonga, the room felt colder than the winter beyond.
Cold to the bone.
Darren’s smile grew broader—wild, defiant, even a little mad.
“You said this kind of thing has never been done before…”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“But ‘never been done’ doesn’t mean it can’t be done. And it definitely doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
His tone grew strange. Deep.
“Between zero and one… there’s a world of difference.”
The words hit Momonga like lightning.
His fingers trembled slightly.
An unfamiliar fear clenched his chest, tightening around his lungs, stealing his breath.
But then—he clenched his fists, raised his head, and said with resolve:
“Then I’m going with you.”
Darren’s smile widened—as if he’d been waiting for that answer.
But he shook his head.
“No need. I move faster alone.”
“And if something happens to me… I’m confident leaving the North Blue fleet to you.”
“Stay here. Watch those two.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
With that, Darren turned and strode away without hesitation.
Only after his figure disappeared down the corridor did Momonga finally exhale.
His back was soaked with cold sweat.
He stood frozen for a long moment—then slowly raised his hand in a solemn salute…
To the empty hallway.
Suddenly,
He turned to the window.
The snow fell harder now, the skies above blanketed in heavy gray.
Far in the distance, thunder cracked.
A storm was coming.
“…The sky’s about to change,” he murmured.
Then his gaze sharpened again, steady and firm.
“Captain Darren…”
“…As expected of you.”
His voice trembled, but his smile was genuine.
“To serve under you… is an honor.”
He clenched his fists.
Darren was right.
He wouldn’t be any help in battle.
But staying behind—maybe that he could do something with.
---
One minute later.
Darren left the hospital alone, heading north of Batiya Island.
The mountains stretched in rolling peaks, and the once-verdant forest was now blanketed in snow.
After confirming that no one was following him, he pulled a crumpled piece of white paper from his coat.
Only half a sheet—torn unevenly.
A Vivre Card.
His vivre card.
Laying it flat on his palm, Darren watched as it slowly tilted in one direction, pulled by an unseen force.
He memorized the direction and tucked it away.
This was a risky move.
But Darren was no fool.
He hadn’t risen from the bottom ranks to North Blue’s highest command through strength alone.
He had caution. Vision. Strategy.
Before the hand-off earlier, he’d confirmed that the CP agents escorting Saint Shaldes were all from the CP1 division.
A bunch of intel agents—not even close to CP9.
Which meant—none of them used Haki.
That was enough.
Sparks flickered between Darren’s fingers.
An invisible magnetic field rippled outward.
On his right wrist, his metal bracer melted like liquid, morphing into a sleek silver plank—just over a meter long, aerodynamic, edged like a triangle at the tip.
A floating metal board.
Polished, weightless.
His magnet board.
Darren stepped on, knees bent, leaning forward.
And then—
BOOM.
The magnetic propulsion launched him forward in a burst of speed that shattered the sound barrier.
Sonic booms cracked in his wake.
He vanished into the storm clouds above—lightning flashing in the distance.
---
At the same time.
Far off the coast of Batiya Island.
A grand government ship flew the World Government flag, sailing slowly through icy waters.
“Achoo!”
“Damn this weather! Snow in summer? This isn’t the New World!”
On the deck, Saint Shaldes sneezed, shivering beneath his thick white robes.
Snow coated the deck and sails, blanketing the government ship in a layer of silver frost.
Even the glass dome over his head fogged with condensation.
“Lord Saint Shaldes,” a CP agent in a black suit approached and knelt respectfully.
“If all goes as planned, we should arrive at Mary Geoise in two days.”
“Twelve agents from CP1 will serve you during this voyage.”
Shaldes accepted a luxurious fur cloak, scowling.
“Why just CP1? Where’s CP0?”
He still hadn’t recovered from the attack by Byrnndi World. His personal guards were wiped out.
Normally, in such cases, CP0—the top of the Cipher Pol hierarchy—would handle security directly.
But now, just CP1?
The agent replied nervously:
“CP0 is currently assisting the Marine in hunting Byrnndi World. Most of their forces are deployed.”
“We’ve analyzed the risk of this voyage. Everything will be fine, I assure you.”
Shaldes grunted in annoyance.
He could technically summon CP0—but only in extreme situations.
Real authority over them belonged to the Gorosei.
“Whatever. Take me to see my wife.”
The agent nodded and led him into a private cabin.
The interior was damp, dark, and reeked of blood and rot.
At the center stood a cage—meant for slaves.
Inside, Liya sat shackled by wrists and ankles, mouth gagged, body trembling.
As Shaldes entered, her tear-stained eyes flared with stubborn fire.
“…What a beautiful gaze,” he murmured, heart racing with delight.
Yes—this was the feeling.
Everyone else grovelled like dogs when they saw his face.
No fun in that.
But this—this fire in her eyes—that was what he wanted.
He wanted to see her break.
Bit by bit.
To watch the light in her eyes die.
That was the joy he lived for.
“…Just wait a little longer, my beautiful wife. Once we reach the Holy Land, our happy life will begin.”
Laughing gleefully, he turned and left the cabin.
His desire burned—but he could wait.
A noble like him wouldn’t defile himself in a filthy ship like this.
Not until she was clean. Presentable.
Worthy.
The door closed.
Darkness returned.
The swaying oil lamp flickered, casting twisted shadows across the floor.
Liya remained curled in the corner.
Bruised. Silent. Still.
Her knees and arms bore fresh scrapes.
She must’ve been dragged in violently.
No one noticed—
Her small fists were clenched tight.
Clutching a slip of paper.
It was something the handsome Marine officer had slipped into her palm while pretending to restrain her.
She didn’t know what it was.
But somehow…
She hadn’t let go.
It felt like warmth.
Like safety.
Like something sacred.
Her only hope…
In a world drowning in darkness.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
A Vivre Card is a special type of paper in the world of One Piece. Made using a person's fingernails, it is impervious to fire and water and represents the life force of the one it’s made from. A torn piece will always point toward its owner, and it is often given to friends and family before parting ways.
Chapter 33: The Way He Looked at Me
Chapter Text
“Make sure she gets her meals on time. Wouldn’t want my beloved wife going hungry.”
After stepping out of the slave-holding cabin, Saint Shaldes ordered one of the CP1 agents without even turning his head.
“Yes, Lord Shaldes,” the agent replied, bowing deeply.
“Oh, and one more thing…”
Shaldes paused, then looked back over his shoulder.
“That Marine from the North Blue—the one called Darren…”
The CP1 agent blinked, recalling the generous tribute from earlier. He bowed again and said:
“Are you considering promoting him, my lord? Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines—ranked Captain under Marine Headquarters—has already been selected for the Marineford Officer Training Program. By all reports, he's on the path to high command.”
“He’s extremely capable, with excellent leadership and vision. Under his rule, the North Blue has seen measurable improvement in both order and economy. He’s definitely worth cultivating.”
“Promote him?”
Shaldes suddenly let out a twisted laugh, as though he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke.
“Not at all. What I meant was—find a way to get him thrown out of the Marines. Then kill him.”
The CP1 agent was stunned, briefly unable to keep up with the noble’s logic.
“Did he… offend you somehow, my lord?”
Sure, a Celestial Dragon had the power to snuff out lives on a whim.
But Darren wasn’t just anyone.
A candidate for Marineford’s elite training program, and a commander holding real power over the entire North Blue Marine forces, wouldn’t be easy to touch—not even for the World Government.
At least not without a reason.
“Offend me?” Shaldes sneered. “No, not really.”
The CP1 agent dropped to one knee, trembling.
“Then… may I ask the reason, my lord?”
Shaldes gave him a sidelong glance, then casually stomped down on his head.
Blood splattered as the agent collapsed, dazed.
“Do I need a reason to make a decision?”
“N-No, my lord!”
The CP1 leader trembled, face pale, not daring to wipe away the blood.
Shaldes snorted and turned away.
“If I had to give a reason…”
His expression darkened. His eyes turned vicious.
“It’s the way he looked at me.”
“…I hated the way he looked at me. That’s reason enough.”
He disappeared into his private quarters.
Unlike the dingy, damp slave cage below, Shaldes’s personal cabin was grand and opulent. Warmly lit. Lavishly furnished. Dry carpets underfoot. Gleaming oil lamps cast golden glows across the room.
His eyes fell on the towering piles of treasure—the so-called “gift” from the North Blue’s Marine commander.
Dozens of chests stuffed with gold and silver gleamed beneath the lights, making the entire room glow.
He smiled with satisfaction.
Shedding his fur coat and tossing it to the floor, he stepped through the treasure pile to the far end of the cabin, where a hidden door waited.
He turned the lock.
Click.
“Come out, my treasure,” he whispered.
A woman crawled out on hands and knees. Beautiful. Collared. Shackled. Her expression vacant, her eyes lifeless.
Saliva dripped from her painted lips as she crawled to him like a broken dog, rubbing her cheek against his leg.
Shaldes let out a twisted laugh, madness in his eyes.
He pressed a button on the gramophone.
Soft jazz began to play.
He picked up a thorn-covered whip.
…
Above deck.
“You alright, boss?” one of the CP1 agents asked their bloodied commander.
“I’m fine. It’s an honor to be corrected by Lord Shaldes.”
He smiled proudly, wiping blood from his face and lighting a cigarette. He passed the pack around to the others.
They leaned against the railing, puffing smoke into the snowy air, faces relaxed.
They liked this feeling.
High-grade tobacco mixed with the smell of sea and snow. The chill in their lungs was oddly pleasant.
Standing on this elite government vessel, looking out over the vast ocean, they felt as though the world was theirs.
Wherever they went, commoners bowed and trembled before them. It was almost enough to convince themselves they were nobles too.
This was the reward for serving the gods.
Soon, jazz music drifted from the cabin below.
Mixed with it: maniacal laughter, the snap of a whip, and the agonized screams of a woman.
The agents looked at each other.
“Looks like Lord Shaldes is starting again…”
“Think he’ll let us have a turn when he’s done?”
“Heh heh heh…”
They shared knowing smiles.
“Bunch of degenerates…” their commander said with a shake of the head, chuckling.
But before he could finish the thought—
He froze.
The others did too, their eyes locked behind him, wide with horror.
A chill ran down the commander’s spine.
He turned slowly.
Floating just off the bow of the ship—
A man stood calmly on a hovering silver board.
A white Marine cape billowed behind him.
Snow fell around him like feathers.
He held one finger to his lips and smiled, eyes filled with murderousintent.
“Shhh…”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 34: Farewell
Chapter Text
The jazz reached a fevered crescendo.
Its notes surged like a stormy sea—rising, crashing, and breaking in waves.
Inside the cabin,
Saint Shaldes danced madly, his iron whip lashing through the air.
His face twisted in frenzied glee, each beat matching his violent steps. The cracks of his whip punctuated the music like a deranged percussionist.
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
Each strike left welts on the woman's flesh. She clenched her teeth, her back a canvas of bloodied stripes.
Fiery pain burned across her skin, but she didn’t scream. She smiled through the agony, obedient. Submissive.
It was her only chance to survive.
“No! That’s not the look! That’s not the look!!”
Shaldes suddenly roared. His gem-studded hand cracked the whip even harder.
“You should be glaring at me with hatred! You should be furious! You should despise me!!”
“Think about it! I killed your father, your mother—remember it!!”
CRACK!
Another strike across her chest. She gasped. Blood pooled, breath heaving.
And yet, her expression only grew more docile. She knew better.
Hate only made him worse.
“Useless filth!!”
Shaldes stormed forward, slapping her across the face.
Her body slammed against the wall, face swelling, blood trickling from her mouth.
“So boring!!”
Panting in rage, he drew the gold pistol at his waist.
With a click, he flipped off the safety and pressed the barrel to her forehead.
He’d hoped she’d be entertaining. Worth sparing.
But clearly, she wasn’t.
The gods had no need for mercy. Especially not with trash.
After all—he already had a new toy now, didn’t he?
“I’m sorry, my darling wife.”
He smiled cruelly, finger tightening on the trigger.
“Goodbye.”
Just then—
Her eyes widened.
Color returned to her lifeless gaze as she looked past him.
“Hm?” Shaldes frowned.
He smelled blood.
A thick, familiar stench.
From behind him… came the sound of a door creaking open.
He turned, confused.
Blood seeped under the door.
And when it swung wide—
A gust of wind and snow howled inside.
A tall figure stood silhouetted in the storm. Bloodied. Snow-dusted.
Black hair. A white Marine coat flapping behind him.
Shaldes’s eyes bulged.
“You!!”
Darren stood in the doorway, calm and smiling.
Behind him—
Bodies.
The CP1 agents—twelve of them—hung lifeless, their corpses pierced by rusted metal spikes.
They swayed in the wind like broken dolls.
The deck ran red.
Shaldes’s breath caught in his throat.
He murdered them all…!
“Captain Darren of the Marines, Supreme Commander of the North Blue, reporting in,” Darren said, bowing slightly.
BANG!
Shaldes fired.
The bullet struck Darren’s forehead—
And bounced off.
Sparks flew.
“Not a bad shot,” Darren chuckled, stepping forward.
“Y-you… what are you doing!?”
Darren paused, pretending to ponder.
“That’s a great question.”
He winked.
“What do you think, Lord Shaldes?”
“You—you’ve defied a Celestial Dragon!! You’ll die for this!!”
He screamed and fired again. And again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
But the bullets all bounced off Darren’s body, ricocheting wildly.
Darren closed the distance.
And slapped him.
The impact shattered Shaldes’s glass dome. Shards ripped into his face. Blood poured.
He flew across the cabin, crashed into the wall—
CRACK!
Wood splintered.
He shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Darren.
“You—you lowly—!”
SHNK!
Two iron spikes burst from the floor and skewered his hands, pinning him to the wall like a grotesque painting.
“AAAAAAARGHHHH!!”
His screams tore through the storm.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 35: The Law of the North Blue
Chapter Text
The shrill screams of the Celestial Dragon echoed through every corner of the World Government’s official ship.
Inside the cabin, the woman who had been brutally lashed and lay bloodied on the floor stared blankly at the writhing "god" in front of her. Her mind went completely blank.
That Marine… he struck a Celestial Dragon.
No—
He was trying to kill a Celestial Dragon!
Was he insane?
Did he have a death wish?
Anyone who dared defy a Celestial Dragon would inevitably face the World Government’s wrath—admirals would be dispatched. It was an unbreakable law of the seas.
"You're too noisy."
Darren frowned and waved his hand with mild irritation.
With a metallic screech, two rebar rods burst from the floor and pierced through Saint Shaldes’s feet, nailing him to the wall like a grotesque painting.
Blood poured from the punctured limbs, pooling rapidly beneath him.
"AAAAHHHH! You're dead, Darren! Dead!"
The pain sent the Celestial Dragon into another fit of screaming, his vision dimming.
He was a Celestial Dragon—born atop the world, a so-called god. In all his life, he’d never even scraped his knee, let alone suffered a wound like this.
"I always thought gods bled gold," Darren murmured. "Turns out it’s just red, like the rest of us. So much for divinity."
Saint Shaldes glared at him, eyes bloodshot.
That smile…
That damned, insufferable smile—disdainful, cold, like he was looking at an insect.
It made his blood boil.
Even now, Darren showed no fear.
That trembling fear Celestial Dragons expected from commoners—it wasn’t there. And that made Saint Shaldes furious.
"Aren’t you afraid of the World Government’s retaliation!? You think you can get away with this!?"
"Retaliation?"
Darren chuckled.
"Who’s going to know it was me? I mean, look around…"
He gestured to the mountains of treasure stacked in the room.
"As far as anyone in Batiya is concerned, I’m just the North Blue scumbag who bent over backwards to curry favor with a Celestial Dragon."
"Who’d believe a Marine dared strike one of you?"
Saint Shaldes froze.
He was losing blood fast, his mind spinning.
"Darren… I don’t get it. Why do this?"
A sudden realization crossed his face.
"It’s that girl, isn’t it?"
Darren didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.
Saint Shaldes’s face contorted with disbelief.
"You’re doing all this—for a commoner? A filthy little street rat!?"
Darren stared down at him. The blood was now soaking his boots.
"She’s not just a commoner."
"She’s a citizen—under my protection."
"Why does it matter!? She’s a nobody! And don’t pretend to be righteous—I know what you are! You propped up mob families, bled the poor for coin! You’re no better than me!"
Darren smiled.
He snapped his fingers.
With a sharp twist, the steel around Shaldes’s right arm constricted—then ripped it clean off.
"AAAAAHHHHH!"
The Celestial Dragon shrieked as urine soaked through his luxurious robes.
"You're right. I’m no saint," Darren said quietly. "That’s why I’m here."
"If I were a good man, I’d never have had the guts."
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I didn’t even want to be here. All I wanted was to keep building up the fleet, keep the North Blue stable."
"But... I took their money."
Saint Shaldes gasped, eyes wild.
"I’ll pay you double—ten times! You want women? I can give you women of any race—money, titles, rank—I’ll have you promoted to Vice Admiral! Just say the word!"
Darren sighed.
"You can give me anything I want, huh?"
Shaldes nodded desperately. "Anything. Just name it."
"There is something I want."
Darren tilted his head and smiled, slow and cold.
"I want to kill you."
The Celestial Dragon froze—then burst into laughter.
"Kill me, and you die! You think the Government isn’t watching!? There are surveillance Den Den Mushi hidden aboard every ship like this! They’ve seen everything!!"
Still smiling.
Darren’s expression didn’t change.
A terrible unease crept over Shaldes.
"Compared to the rest of your kind," Darren said, "you’re surprisingly clever. So I’ll give you a shot."
The restraints released, and Shaldes collapsed to the floor.
Darren tossed him a military transponder snail.
"Go on. Try it."
Saint Shaldes scrambled for the device.
One second.
Two.
Three…
Nothing.
His face drained of color.
"No… No, no, no—impossible. How—?"
The signal had been cut.
There would be no witnesses. No backup. No salvation.
"They... they won’t know…"
Darren stood silently, electricity crackling at his fingertips.
He’d prepared for this. The moment Shaldes tried to take the girl, he made his decision.
He’d handed the girl his Vivre Card—tracking her route.
He’d gathered intel on the CP agents.
And most importantly—
He’d cut the ship’s comms.
His Magnet-Magnet Fruit allowed him to create a field that disrupted all signals within a 100-meter radius.
The entire ship was under his blackout.
"Why!? If you knew I was stalling, why didn’t you just kill me!?"
Darren grinned.
"Because killing you quickly would be too easy."
He remembered the looks of despair on the father and daughter’s faces.
"I wanted you to taste despair."
He drew his pistol.
In the reflection of its barrel, Shaldes saw his own terror.
"No!! I’m a Celestial Dragon! You can’t—"
BANG!
The bullet punched through his skull.
Red and white splashed against the cabin wall.
Saint Shaldes’s body twitched.
His eyes went dull.
"Damn it… over some filthy… commoner…?"
His corpse hit the floor.
His frozen expression was a
grotesque masterpiece of rage, disbelief, and terror.
Darren stood over him.
Calm.
Cold.
"I took the money."
"That means I do the job."
"That’s the law of the North Blue."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 36: Presence
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"You... you killed him..."
The woman, naked and covered in wounds, stared in horror at the corpse of the Celestial Dragon lying in a pool of blood. Her voice trembled as her face turned pale. The sight before her felt far too surreal—like a dream.
"You... killed a Celestial Dragon..."
She muttered the words again and again, touching the spreading pool of blood with her fingertips, feeling its warmth.
Slowly, the corners of her mouth curled into a smile.
"You killed him..."
The smile twisted into madness.
"Hahahaha!! You killed him!!"
"He's finally dead!!"
Her laughter rang out wildly as tears streaked down her bloodied cheeks.
"He's finally dead... sob..."
She broke down, weeping uncontrollably.
Darren watched the woman, laughing and crying in a frenzy, her face warped with pain and madness. He lowered his eyes.
"You're free now," he said.
"Free?"
A bitter smile tugged at her lips. She slowly turned around, letting Darren see her bare back.
Branded into her flesh was the unmistakable hoof of the Celestial Dragon—the blood-red Claw of the Heavenly Dragon.
"For someone like me... where does freedom even begin?"
She lifted her face and smiled faintly at Darren. It was a smile of resignation. A smile of release.
"Thank you, Marine officer."
She forced herself to her knees and gave Darren a deep, sincere bow.
"I have no reason to keep living. Everyone I ever cared about was killed by him."
"Please… go and do what you have to do."
Darren looked at her for a long moment.
In her eyes, he saw death. Not pain, not madness—just the will to die.
He didn’t know what she had endured, how long she’d been tortured by Saint Shaldes.
But he’d always lived by one principle:
If you haven’t walked their path, you have no right to judge their choices.
“I understand,” Darren said quietly. “Then... go in peace.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Behind him, the woman wiped the tears from her bloodstained cheeks.
No longer hollow.
No longer broken.
A soft smile spread across her face. A smile that bloomed like a flower clinging to life on the edge of a cliff.
“Thank you. Truly, thank you... Marine officer.”
“If I live, it’ll only cause trouble for you anyway, won’t it...?”
She picked up the golden pistol from the floor.
Bang! Bang!
She gritted her teeth and fired two bullets into the corpse of the Celestial Dragon.
“Papa... Mama... I’m coming to join you.”
Smiling like a child again, she pressed the final bullet to her temple.
And pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The shot echoed behind him. Darren didn’t stop walking.
He wasn’t a saint.
He wouldn’t force someone ready to die to live.
Once, she had no choice.
Now, at least... she chose her death freely.
Swallowing his feelings, Darren made his way toward the slave quarters of the ship.
The door exploded off its hinges with a blast of iron.
He stepped inside without hesitation.
The stench of damp and filth hit him. Dim oil lamps flickered in the stale air.
In the corner of a cage, curled into herself, sat Liya.
When she saw who it was, her fear vanished instantly—replaced by pure joy.
Darren waved his hand.
The steel cage collapsed in on itself, bars warping and breaking apart. The shackles on the girl’s limbs fell away with a clatter.
“Marine big brother!!”
The moment the muzzle around her mouth came off, Leah threw herself into Darren’s leg, hugging it tightly.
He patted her head gently and smiled.
“Let’s go home.”
Eyes brimming with tears, Liya nodded hard.
Darren took her hand and led her out of the cell.
But—
As they stepped onto the deck, Leah’s eyes fell on the corpses strung up in the snow—impaled on rusted iron.
Her little face turned ghost white.
She let go of Darren’s hand and instinctively turned back toward the ship’s interior.
There he was—the terrifying, hideous Celestial Dragon—dead in a pool of his own blood.
She froze.
Then, clenching her teeth, she turned and ran at the mast, ready to smash her head into it.
Darren caught her midair like a kitten.
“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning.
Through sobs, the girl cried, “I’m not supposed to survive, right?”
“If I live... I’ll bring you so much trouble…”
Darren stared at her, sighed, and shook his head.
He remembered her father throwing himself at a wall and sighed again.
Just like father, like daughter.
He picked her up in his arms.
“You’re alive. So live well,” he said firmly. “Your dad’s waiting for you.”
“I was paid to protect you, remember?”
Liya blinked and whispered, “But... but I didn’t give you much money...”
Darren smiled.
“It’s enough.”
A metal board floated toward them.
He stepped on it, holding the muddy little girl tightly in his arms.
The board rose into the sky.
Hovering high above the sea, Darren looked down at the blood-soaked World Government ship.
He raised his hand and splayed his fingers.
Crack—BOOM—
The metal hull groaned.
In the grip of his magnetic powers, the entire ship began to compress, collapse, and twist like paper.
BOOM!!
The gunpowder and cannons aboard exploded.
A towering fireball engulfed the ship in flame.
A shockwave ripped across the sky. Leah buried her face in Darren’s chest—the safest place in the world.
The ship sank.
The World Government flag, symbol of supreme authority, was reduced to ashes.
Black smoke coiled into the sky.
Above, dark thunderclouds boiled.
A storm was coming.
And in the flickering firelight, Darren saw faces.
Visions.
He saw Gion on the street, clutching a rose, dazed.
He saw Tokikake pounding the wall with his fists.
He saw the man kneeling before him, pouring out coins in desperation.
He saw the woman who smiled and pulled the trigger.
He saw the Celestial Dragon’s hideous grin...
One by one, the images rose and vanished in the fire.
Darren exhaled deeply.
All the rage, the suffocating pressure in his chest—gone.
He felt something awaken.
A power. A conviction.
CRACK!!
A blinding bolt of lightning split the sky.
And then came the rain.
Thunder roared.
High in the air, the Marine captain hovered with his white cloak billowing like a dragon in the storm.
A crushing aura surged from his body—
Dominating.
Majestic.
Absolute.
The heavens trembled.
And in that moment—
A new line appeared in his perception.
Conqueror’s Haki: 20
The spirit of a king... had awakened.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Each kudo is a small light guiding this story forward.
If you’re enjoying the ride, one click would mean more than you know.
Thank you for reading and traveling this path with me!
Chapter 37: World Destroyer
Chapter Text
At the same time—
On the towering blood-colored cliffs of the Red Line, stretching high into the heavens, lies Mary Geoise.
Blue-tiled roofs and white-walled buildings line the immaculately clean streets. Artificial gardens, fountains, and greenery wrap around grand and ancient mansions nestled on gentle, flower-covered hills—like a paradise above the clouds.
This is the Domain of the Gods in Mary Geoise, the sacred and exalted residence of the Celestial Dragons.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream shattered the peace.
"Th-this... this can't be happening!!"
In a resplendent golden hall, an official responsible for overseeing the daily life of the World Nobles collapsed onto the floor, pale and trembling.
Other officials rushed in. Their eyes immediately locked onto the burning scrap of paper that was quickly turning to ash—
A Vivre Card.
"That... that's Saint Shaldes' Vivre Card!"
"According to intel, wasn't he still in the North Blue, having just boarded the return government vessel?!"
"How could this happen...?!"
The room fell silent. Panic spread. Several gulped dryly, their throats burning.
Saint Shaldes—one of the Celestial Dragons—was dead.
"Quick!! Inform the Gorosei!!"
The lead official forced himself to his feet and roared.
And so, the message spread.
Panic swept Mary Geoise. CP agents in black suits darted through the streets like shadows. The sacred guard corps galloped down the pristine roads, spurring civilians into terrified silence.
Eyes turned toward the grand stairway to the heavens.
Another "god" had fallen.
Not since the God Valley Incident eight years ago had a Celestial Dragon died on the Grand Line.
---
North Blue, somewhere at sea.
Thunderclouds loomed like a collapsing fortress. Torrential rain poured over the raging sea. Marine battleships rocked violently in the swells, as if giants tossed them through the storm.
BOOM—!!
Cannons roared from the battleship decks, muzzle flashes lighting the storm as barrels glowed red-hot from overuse. Explosions rippled across the ocean as towering water columns shot skyward.
"Byrnndi World!! You can't run!!"
Standing at the prow, drenched and furious, was Admiral Sengoku—square-framed glasses fogged, black goatee tied into a braid.
His voice thundered over the waves.
"Barororororo!! Sengoku, you think you can catch me?! You're a century too early!"
A hulking figure laughed at the storm.
Dressed in a crimson captain's coat and horned helmet, with mossy green facial hair, he radiated a crushing aura.
The World Destroyer—Byrnndi World!
Captain of the World Pirates. Bounty: 200 million berries!
A legendary pirate, once equal in fame to Whitebeard and Roger!
Cannonfire exploded around his ship. Spray and smoke clouded the deck. But World didn’t flinch—he simply grinned.
"When it comes to firepower, I’ve never lost to anyone."
His body blurred—vanished.
Like a phantom, he zipped across the rain-soaked deck, leaving a void in the storm.
He reappeared at the opposite side, gripping a massive cannon.
"Adjust course! Let’s show those government dogs the power of the World Pirates!"
"Raaah!!"
His men roared with feverish loyalty.
One pirate wrestled with the helm. "Hard to starboard!!"
The ship creaked as it tilted under the storm’s force.
Rain battered the deck as pirates clung to the slick railings.
World locked the cannon’s aim.
"All this fuss over sinking one fat Celestial pig’s ship..."
He sneered, laughing maniacally into the gale:
"Come, Sengoku!! Witness the power to destroy the world!!"
He yanked the firing cord.
BOOM!!
A black cannonball screamed into the sky.
"Mo Mo: Fiftyfold Shell!!"
White shockwaves burst from the projectile.
In an instant, the ball expanded—growing dozens of times in size.
Over 20 meters wide now, it arced high—then hurtled toward Sengoku’s ship like a falling meteor!
Friction with the air ignited crimson flames around it.
This was the power of the Moa Moa no Mi.
It could multiply an object’s size and speed. And with it—its destructive force.
That single cannonball... could flatten a town.
A shadow engulfed the Marines.
The deck groaned. The pressure alone cracked the boards.
"Damn it!!"
Sengoku launched skyward.
Golden light blazed around him.
To the stunned awe of his men, he transformed into a towering golden Buddha.
"Great Buddha Impact!!"
CRASH!!
A golden shockwave met the cannonball.
For a moment, the world fell silent.
Then—a titanic explosion shattered the heavens.
A fireball a hundred meters wide lit up the dark sky. Shrapnel rained down.
"Borsalino!!"
"Got it, y’know..."
A voice drawled lazily through the storm.
A golden flash soared upward.
"Yasakani no Magatama."
Countless beams of light pelted the fragments.
The night sky turned to day.
Through the haze, Sengoku landed on the deck.
He stared at the fleeing pirate ship—and clenched his fist.
But then—
"Stop the pursuit. We have a problem."
Sengoku turned.
A masked CP0 agent emerged.
The joint operation to capture World had been led by CP and the Marines.
"Retreat? But we’ve cornered him—he can’t escape the stormy chaos ahead!"
The CP0 shook his head.
"Byrnndi World doesn’t matter anymore."
He handed over a Den Den Mushi.
An aged, chilling voice came through:
"Sengoku. Withdraw at once."
"But, Gorosei—Sir! We’re so close! He’s in the trap—just give me a little more time—"
"Withdraw. Now. That’s an order."
Sengoku gritted his teeth.
"May I ask why? We’ve poured so much into this operation—"
"Saint Shaldes has died. In the North Blue."
Sengoku froze.
A Celestial Dragon... dead?
Impossible.
"As the sole Marine Admiral currently active, your top priority is to investigate the cause. Nothing else matters."
The command left no room for doubt.
Drenched in rain, Sengoku exhaled sharply.
His fighting spirit... smothered.
"Understood."
He bit out the words.
The CP0 agent turned and left.
Golden photons gathered nearby—coalescing into a man.
Tall, striped suit, sunglasses, goatee.
Rear Admiral. Monster of the next generation—Borsalino.
"Should I chase him down, Admiral Sengoku?"
Sengoku glared at the retreating pirate ship—then slammed the railing, shattering it.
"No. Return to base."
Borsalino was powerful—far above the average Vice Admiral.
But against a legend like World?
Too risky.
A future Marine Admiral couldn’t be gambled.
They had come so close.
And failed.
But Sengoku knew... he couldn’t disobey.
A Celestial Dragon had died. In the same sea.
And he was the only Admiral left.
He had to go.
Even if...
"Who in the North Blue... would dare strike a Celestial Dragon?"
Rain lashed his pale face.
Sengoku stared into the storm, lost in thought.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 38: Kong and the Gorosei (Five Elders)
Chapter Text
Late that night—
Fleet Admiral Kong, roused from sleep by his adjutant, forcibly suppressed his irritation at being disturbed and boarded his flagship to rush toward the Holy Land of Mary Geoise. After switching to a World Government ship on the internal river of the Red Line and enduring a long carriage ride, he finally reached the inner city of Mary Geoise—Pangaea Castle—three hours later.
Despite nearing eighty years of age, Kong showed no signs of frailty or senility. His eyes remained sharp and deep-set, his silver hair styled in an upright mohawk like steel needles. Muscular and broad-chested, his exposed torso bore the chiseled definition of a warrior, and his tanned skin emphasized his imposing physicality. The marshal’s cloak, decorated with golden epaulettes, fluttered in the wind, radiating authority.
Standing at the base of the immaculate Heavenly Steps that ascended into the realm of the gods, Kong straightened his back and strode forward. As shadowy CP figures silently observed from the darkness, he climbed with the unyielding force that earned him the moniker "Steel Bone."
After ascending the path, he passed through a tranquil garden and arrived at a modest white villa nestled among flowering trees. Ivy clung to the aging walls, and the sharp spire roof resembled a thrusting blade.
"Fleet Admiral Kong," said two black-suited attendants with white gloves, bowing slightly.
Kong gave a curt nod, inhaled deeply, and pushed open the door.
Inside the villa was a tastefully plain council chamber. A tea set rested on a carved table, steam rising from the freshly brewed pot.
Five old men stood or sat, their auras exuding dominance and unquestionable power—the highest authority in the World Government: the Gorosei (Five Elders).
"Fleet Admiral Kong reporting the Gorosei," Kong said firmly, neither submissive nor arrogant.
He glanced at the Gorosei on the far left—a bald man with a handlebar mustache, a deep scar on his face, dressed in a tailored black suit.
"Congratulations to Saint Topman Warcury on your election to the highest seat of power."
Saint Topman Warcury waved him off with a hoarse voice. "Spare us the pleasantries, Kong. You know exactly why we summoned you."
Kong's tone deepened. "Of course. But first, I must ask: why did you bypass me, the Fleet Admiral, to directly issue a withdrawal order to Admiral Sengoku? The operation to capture Byrnndi World was meticulously planned. Letting this chance slip will bring grave consequences."
"Are you questioning the Government's authority?" Topman Warcury frowned.
"According to protocol, any offense against a Celestial Dragon demands immediate intervention by an Admiral. Saint Shaldes died in the North Blue, and we haven’t even held you accountable for the Marines' negligence. Or do you think a Celestial Dragon’s life is less important than a pirate arrest?"
A wave of cold, suffocating pressure swept over Kong as the other Gorosei turned their icy gazes toward him. But the Fleet Admiral stood tall.
"The safety of the Celestial Dragons is indeed paramount. But Byrnndi World poses an urgent, escalating threat. His power and ambition rival those who once stood atop the seas. The death of Saint Shaldes, after all, was triggered by World’s initial attack."
"World must be stopped for the peace of the seas. If it’s a matter of investigation, I can dispatch another officer from Marine Headquarters—"
"And who will you send?" interrupted the blond-haired Gorosei coldly.
A mocking sneer tugged at his lips.
"Of the three official Admirals, Zephyr has retired, and Garp repeatedly refuses promotion. What, will you send Garp to investigate the death of a Celestial Dragon? Or go yourself?"
Kong opened his mouth but could find no reply. The truth was painfully clear.
Zephyr had stepped back long ago after tragedy struck. If not for Kong’s insistence and their bond as teacher and student, he might have left the Marines entirely. Though still holding the Admiral rank, Zephyr was devoted solely to the Marine training program.
As for Garp... sending that wild man to investigate a Celestial Dragon’s death? He’d likely eat donuts and laugh, shouting, "Serves him right!"
That left only Sengoku as a viable choice.
Kong clenched his fists in frustration.
Byrnndi World was more dangerous than either Whitebeard or Roger in the Marines’ assessment. The latter two had strength and influence but didn’t attack civilians or towns without cause. Roger, though unpredictable, had once cooperated with the Marines at God Valley. Whitebeard sought only to build his "family" in the New World.
But World? A madman.
His motto: "Destroy all who stand in my way."
He razed towns, attacked civilians and bases, wielding the destructive power of the More More Fruit to destabilize the world order.
They had been so close to stopping him.
Topman Warcury noticed Kong's dark expression and said calmly, "CP agents have infiltrated the World Pirates. Byrnndi World has nowhere left to run."
Kong blinked. Infiltrated?
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, the bald Gorosei dressed in monk’s robes and calmly polishing a katana, added, "This meeting is over. We won’t waste any more words. The death of a Celestial Dragon strikes at the dignity of the Government. The Marines must provide a full explanation."
"Also... seal all information. This incident must remain confidential."
"...Understood."
Kong knew there was no point arguing further.
Not all Celestial Dragons were sniveling fools. Raised in privilege and entitlement, many were, but some grew into intelligent and capable elites. They received the finest education, trained under the best tutors, and were groomed to take part in the inner workings of the World Government.
Otherwise, a regime ruled by nothing but maniacs would never have lasted eight hundred years.
The Gorosei represented the pinnacle of that elite. Their loyalty to the Celestial Dragons was absolute.
To them, the Celestial Dragons were divine. That was their bottom line. Inviolable and absolute.
And yet... something in that last sentence echoed oddly in Kong’s mind.
Seal the information...
---
To be continued...
Chapter 39: Serves Him Right
Chapter Text
North Blue.
The site of the World Government vessel's sinking.
Snow continued to fall heavily across the dull grey sky, blanketing the vast sea.
"Yes, Fleet Admiral Kong—I've reached the crime scene as per the route provided by the CP division."
On the deck of a Marine battleship, Sengoku held a military transponder snail in one hand, his expression dark as he gave his report.
Adjusting his black-rimmed glasses, he swept his gaze across the sea.
"There aren't any obvious signs at the scene."
"Understood."
After ending the call, Sengoku exhaled a long breath.
"The dive team has been dispatched. The higher-ups are taking this incident very seriously."
A figure in a silk robe, wearing a mask marked with strange patterns, appeared beside Sengoku like a ghost. A hoarse voice came from beneath the mask.
Sengoku nodded, though he remained unimpressed.
The sea was choppy. Only a few burnt and rotting pieces of wreckage floated nearby, along with occasional severed limbs—none of it identifiable.
Mary Geoise had already determined the exact time of death by tracking the moment Saint Shaldes' vivre card turned to ash.
It had already been three full hours since the incident.
Three hours was more than enough for the ocean to swallow every last piece of evidence.
At this point, even a dive team would be pointless.
To think they went to such lengths for a dead Celestial Dragon... and let Byrnndi World slip away in the process. Sengoku felt a twinge of frustration.
Still, no matter how absurd, this was a direct order from the World Government. Whatever his personal feelings, Sengoku would fulfill his duty seriously.
A gag order had already been issued.
After all, if this incident got out, it would damage the Government's authority and reputation.
And because it involved a Celestial Dragon, the situation was incredibly sensitive and troublesome.
Sengoku glanced at the deck and twitched involuntarily.
Here he was, a Marine admiral running himself ragged—and what was his vice admiral doing?
Borsalino was lounging in a beach chair, sipping watermelon juice like this had nothing to do with him.
"BORSALINO!!"
Sengoku ground his teeth and roared.
"We're on duty!!"
Hearing the shout, Borsalino raised both hands in surrender and smiled lazily.
"Comin', comin'..."
He slowly put down his drink and sauntered over.
"Found anything yet?!"
"Let me have a look..."
Stroking his stubbled chin, Borsalino pushed up his sunglasses and carefully "inspected" the scene.
Two seconds later, his mouth parted theatrically.
"Wow, scary stuff... that Celestial Dragon sure died clean. Not a scrap of meat left~"
Silence fell over the deck.
Not a word.
"Caw, caw, caw..."
A few crows flapped overhead.
Sengoku: …
CP0: …
Marines: …
Borsalino: ( ^▽^)
Sengoku twitched, feeling CP0's killing intent rising beside him. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch the yellow monkey into the deck.
"You bastard! Get lost, Borsalino!!"
"Alright, alright~"
Hands still raised innocently, Borsalino ambled away, muttering:
"You’re the one who asked me to help..."
He flopped back into the chair, picked up his juice again.
"No helping it, huh..."
Hearing Borsalino's mumbling, Sengoku's face turned green and white in turns. He clenched and unclenched his fists.
Regret consumed him.
Should’ve chosen Sakazuki to be my adjutant!
Back in the academy, both had graduated top of their class, dubbed "monsters" of the new generation. At least that gloomy brat Sakazuki wasn’t this aggravating!
Why had he chosen this damn clown?
Sengoku massaged his temple in agony.
Then again, he couldn't undo it now.
Sakazuki was overly extreme—his justice was absolute, and his methods merciless, even disobeying orders.
Sengoku couldn't tolerate that.
Annoying as Borsalino was, at least he followed orders.
Sengoku let out a long breath.
He turned to CP0's silent, masked agent and gave a sheepish smile, about to speak when—
Pururururu... pururururu...
The military transponder snail rang.
Sengoku frowned, shot CP0 an apologetic look, and answered.
"This is Sengoku."
A loud, cheerful voice roared through the line:
"BWAHAHAHAHA Sengoku!! How’s your end going?!"
"You got Byrnndi World, right? I’m all done over here. You wouldn’t believe it—I smashed Chinjao’s drill head in with my Iron Fist!"
"What a glorious fight, WAHAHAHA!!"
The transponder snail mimicked a nose-picking, laughing face.
Sengoku chuckled:
"Don Chinjao, the Drill Head of the Happo Navy, huh? He must hate you with a passion now, Garp."
He shook his head.
"I failed. Something urgent came up and Byrnndi World escaped."
"Urgent? What happened?"
Garp scratched his head, then made a teasing face:
"Don’t tell me you lost to Byrnndi and made up an excuse~?"
"Scram," Sengoku grumbled. "A Celestial Dragon died in North Blue. I’m under orders to investigate."
As soon as he said it, he regretted it.
Sure enough, Garp burst into booming laughter:
"WAHAHAHAHA!! A Celestial Dragon died? Serves him right!!"
"I don’t know who did it, but I’d love to shake their hand!"
"Beautiful death!!"
As Garp's laughter rang out, Sengoku’s face darkened.
CP0’s killing intent was now suffocating.
"Come on, Sengoku, it’s just one Celestial Dragon. Who cares? There’s a whole nest of them in Mary Geoise."
"Just do a quick investigation, fake a report. Those bastards deserve to die anyway, WAHAHAHA..."
Sengoku glanced nervously at CP0, whose mask was unreadable.
He gritted his teeth and cut Garp off:
"GARP!! The CP0 rep is standing right next to me!!"
Silence.
One beat.
Then—
"Uh, forget what I said. Redacted! Redacted!!"
The transponder snail mimicked a sheepish wave.
Click.
The line went dead.
Sengoku: …
He blinked, coughed, put the transponder snail away, then turned solemnly to CP0.
Expression dead serious, voice full of righteous fire:
"Let’s begin the investigation!"
Facing CP0's empty, cold gaze beneath the mask, Sengoku raised a fist and declared:
"Whatever it takes!"
"We will investigate! Thoroughly! Until the truth is found!!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 40: Borsalino's Theory
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The waves surged restlessly.
On the deck of the Marine battleship, Sengoku paced back and forth, hands behind his back, his expression grave and his heart unsettled.
Snowflakes drifted from the gray sky, resting on his uniform and hair, but he paid them no mind.
Splash...
Amidst the sound of the churning sea, heads emerged from the water one by one—the divers.
"Reporting, Admiral Sengoku! The government vessel has been completely destroyed. Most of the wreckage has been scattered by the sea. No meaningful remnants could be recovered."
"However, we can confirm that the ship was obliterated in an extremely short span of time. The gunpowder and ammunition in the storage compartments were ignited, triggering a fire and subsequent explosion."
One of the soaked divers swiftly climbed aboard and saluted Sengoku with a report.
So it's just as expected, huh?
Sengoku felt a sinking weight in his heart.
Judging by the traces left on the water, he'd already suspected as much. But still, a small part of him had hoped otherwise.
He frowned and turned toward the silent CP0 agent beside him.
"What about the surveillance Den Den Mushi?"
"If I recall correctly, according to standard procedure, government vessels always have them installed to ensure the safety of the Celestial Dragons."
The CP0 agent paused briefly without answering. Then, without a word, he turned and headed into the cabin.
Sengoku paused, then quickly followed him.
Once inside the cabin, the door was shut tight to ensure privacy. Only then did the CP0 agent pull out a Visual Den Den Mushi from inside his coat and place it on the table.
"Indeed, the ship was equipped with surveillance."
"Normally, the moment anyone steps aboard, the surveillance begins recording."
His voice was low and somber. The eerie mask, with its strange patterns and hollow eyes, made Sengoku instinctively uncomfortable.
"This is the footage from the incident."
Sengoku reached out instinctively to activate the Visual Den Den Mushi.
But the CP0 agent stepped forward, pressing his gloved hand on Sengoku's.
"The contents of this footage involve the privacy of the World Government and the World Nobles. No matter what you see, you are forbidden from speaking of it."
Sengoku glanced at him and nodded. "I understand."
Only then did the agent remove his hand.
A soft glow soon filled the dim cabin as the Visual Den Den Mushi projected the recorded scenes.
Multiple angles played simultaneously.
First appeared a crescent-shaped harbor, cold and desolate after being cleared of people.
The sky was gray, snow fell silently, and a somber atmosphere blanketed the port.
In one of the feeds, several CP1 agents in black suits were seen loading heavy crates onto the main ship.
Then, Saint Shaldes—wearing his glass helmet and strutting arrogantly—walked up the gangplank, flanked by CP1 escorts.
The sails billowed in the cold wind. The vessel departed the harbor.
Sengoku watched as a red-eyed little girl, bound in chains, was dragged by CP members into a dark cabin, where she curled up helplessly in the shadows.
He saw CP1 agents laughing and joking on the deck, casually smoking.
He saw a mountain of gold and jewels in the main hold.
He saw Saint Shaldes whipping a woman in rhythm with jazz music, dancing in euphoria.
In just a few clips...
He saw paradise and hell.
Excessive luxury beside utter cruelty.
Splendor and despair.
Only a wall apart.
The contrast was jarring.
Without realizing, Sengoku's fists had clenched tightly.
Suddenly, the feed cut out. Snowy static replaced the image.
Sengoku blinked.
"What about the rest of the footage?"
He took a breath and steadied himself, asking in a stiff tone.
A hoarse, cold voice came from behind the mask.
"That was all. The signal from the surveillance Den Den Mushi cut out in an instant."
"The transmission ceased at the exact moment of the attack."
Sengoku's heart pounded. "You mean the entire vessel was destroyed, and everyone on board killed in less than a second?"
Even as he said it, it sounded unbelievable.
The surveillance coverage on a government ship was extensive—how could it miss the attacker?
Even if someone attacked, they would be confronted by CP agents first.
CP1 might not be the combat arm, but they were still elite operatives trained by the government. At minimum, they were comparable to base-level Marine officers.
There should have been time to record something.
But the footage just stopped.
Only one explanation made sense to Sengoku:
The entire attack happened outside the visual range of the cameras—from a great distance, and in an instant.
The CP0 agent didn’t speak, but silence was confirmation enough.
Sengoku’s face darkened.
"Someone that powerful..."
He folded his arms and furrowed his brows in deep thought.
To destroy an entire ship in a flash, from range...
There were few who could manage that.
Even Vice Admirals in the Marines would struggle.
Names flashed through his mind—terrifying ones.
Then the CP0 agent broke the silence:
"According to our analysis of the wreckage, the attack wasn’t executed with a sword."
So not a swordsman?
Sengoku frowned but shook his head.
"That doesn’t mean much. Many top-tier fighters have multiple means of attack. Whitebeard and Golden Lion, for instance."
He seemed to remember something, and pulled out his Den Den Mushi to make a call.
Within seconds, the line connected.
"Tsuru? It’s Sengoku. I need you to check something. What are the recent movements of Whitebeard, Roger, and Golden Lion over the last three days?"
Pause.
"None of them have appeared in the North Blue?"
He nodded, "Got it. Thanks, Tsuru."
Putting the Den Den Mushi away, he resumed pacing.
"Not them either, huh..."
"Then based on the scene and the nature of the attack... the most likely suspect would be..."
His expression shifted strangely.
"Byrnndi World?"
A long-range attack that obliterates a large ship in an instant.
Violent, unafraid to strike at the World Government or Celestial Dragons.
Active in the North Blue.
If the timing didn’t overlap with his own pursuit of Byrnndi World, Sengoku would have already named him the culprit.
His train of thought hit a wall.
He rubbed his temples.
Then—
Knock knock knock.
Someone was at the door.
Sengoku sensed with Observation Haki. It was Borsalino.
"Come in."
Borsalino stepped inside, slow and casual.
"Admiral Sengoku, I might have a guess as to who attacked the ship."
Sengoku's eyes lit up. "Go on."
Borsalino straightened, a big smile on his face.
"Sea Kings."
He said it proudly.
Sengoku: ...
CP0: ...
The next second, the ship trembled under Sengoku's explosive roar:
"You idiot! Get out!!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
If you're enjoying this story, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment!
Your feedback fuels my motivation and helps me keep going.
Sharing the fic or bookmarking it also means the world to me!
Chapter 41: A Staged Act
Chapter Text
Elsewhere.
North Blue, Kieff Island.
Kieff Island was a neutral territory in the North Blue, with a small town of a few thousand people and no affiliation to any world government nation. Because of its lack of governance, all sorts of illegal forces gradually converged here.
Thieves ran rampant, mafias operated openly, and pirate ships docked at the crumbling port without a care. Gunshots rang out now and then from the streets.
Darren and Momonga stood silently at the port, both cloaked in long black hooded coats that hid their appearances completely.
The dock buzzed with movement. People pushed through the crowd while arguing, haggling, or dragging cargo across the filthy ground. The air was thick with the stench of rot.
Dead fish, rotting fruit, spoiled spices, human waste, and even body parts floated in the waters along the coast. The smell was nauseating—hell on earth.
"Is everything in place?" Darren asked, eyes narrowed, smoke curling from his lips as he stared at a merchant vessel slowly leaving the harbor.
"Yes. I never showed my face. We handed her off to a merchant crew via one of our mafia contacts. No one will trace this back to us."
"She'll start a new life, far from here," Momonga replied quietly, though his calm exterior belied his rapid heartbeat.
"Relax."
Sensing his unease, Darren turned and clapped him on the shoulder with a smile.
"There were no other survivors on that ship. Even if an investigation is launched, they won’t find a single lead."
"To the world, that flower-selling girl sank with the government ship."
Momonga took a deep drag of his cigarette, rolling his eyes. Easy for *you* to say...
Even now, sweat gathered in his palms just thinking about what Darren had done.
A Celestial Dragon.
One of the so-called "gods" of the world, wielding untouchable power and status...
And yet, Darren had killed one.
And truthfully, knowing he succeeded brought Momonga a strange, satisfying thrill.
He couldn't help but recall the innocent, radiant smile of that little girl as they parted ways. Maybe, just maybe... it *was* worth the risk.
"You're right, Darren. That Celestial Dragon deserved to die."
"What about her father?" Momonga exhaled a stream of smoke. "What should we do about him?"
Darren fell silent for a moment.
"Sooner or later, they'll send a team to Batiya Island to investigate. We can't let the father know the truth just yet. He needs to play his part in the act."
Momonga's eyes widened.
"An investigation? But didn’t you say they wouldn’t find any clues?"
Darren smirked.
"They won’t."
Thanks to the power of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit, he had completely scrambled the surveillance Den Den Mushi signal.
Even if the government retrieved the recordings, they would only find a sudden signal cut.
Their logical conclusion? The entire ship was obliterated in an instant.
That would steer their investigation toward powerful figures capable of such destruction.
No one would suspect a mere Marine Headquarters captain.
"But still, the investigators need something to report back."
Momonga suddenly understood.
"You think they'll keep digging?"
Darren shook his head.
"They won’t. The higher-ups lack that kind of patience. More importantly, this 'Celestial Dragon incident' is being kept confidential. Aside from the investigation team and a few Marine elites, no one even knows it happened."
"No public pressure means the government won’t pursue it for long."
'This isn't like the Sabaody Archipelago incident,' Darren continued in his mind.
'Back then, Luffy assaulted a Celestial Dragon in front of everyone. With the entire island as witness, the government *had* to respond. A Marine Admiral was dispatched. Kizaru led the operation but ultimately let the Straw Hats escape, settling by capturing 500 unlucky pirates instead.'
'But this time? No witnesses. No leaks. And every trail has been erased.'
'The end result will be a quiet cover-up.'
Momonga couldn't help but marvel.
"How do you even think like this? You were born in North Blue, but your understanding of the upper echelon is frighteningly accurate."
"Still... Tokikake and Gion might suspect something. What if they say something?"
Darren chuckled.
"Even if they guess the truth, they won’t talk. They *can’t* talk."
He gazed calmly at the grimy, blackened harbor, as though he belonged there.
"They're good people. Better than me, better than you, better than most of the world."
"But they're too pure. Too clean. That purity is their strength—and their weakness."
"I did what they couldn't bring themselves to do. So they'll stay quiet."
"And once they make that choice..."
Darren's eyes gleamed.
"They're already tied to our ship."
Momonga drew in a sharp breath, then let it out with a crooked smile.
"So you're even using them now? You're a real devil, Darren."
"Let me ask you something," Darren replied calmly.
"Do you know what life really is?"
"It’s not a fight between good and evil. It’s a choice between greater and lesser evils."
"This world is already upside-down. Pure justice has no place in it."
"Most Marines either bow their heads and become watchdogs... or stand by helplessly as evil unfolds, furious yet powerless."
"But me? I refuse to be a dog. I refuse to be a bystander."
He turned to face his loyal partner with a fierce, unyielding gaze.
"One day, all of this will change."
"But until then... I have to be a devil."
A trail of smoke curled from his lips.
"Because we already live in hell."
Momonga stood silent, stunned by Darren's words.
Then, Darren stretched, relaxed, and flicked away his cigarette.
"Come on, let’s go greet Admiral Sengoku."
...
Batiya Island.
A colossal, battle-worn Marine nattleship docked slowly at the port.
The bow bore the image of a giant golden Buddha. Marines with steely expressions lined the deck—clearly the elite of the force.
Civilians and merchants at the harbor stared in shock, instinctively backing away from the ship’s overwhelming presence.
It was like a floating fortress of war.
Sengoku led his troops ashore. The masked CP0 agent melted into the crowd.
"This island..."
Sengoku frowned at the blue-roofed, white-walled architecture.
A subordinate leaned in and whispered a report.
"I see..."
Sengoku sighed. He wasn’t impressed with Batiya Island’s local government, but there was little he could do.
*Thump thump thump...*
The sound of boots on pavement echoed from the end of the street.
Sengoku looked up—and smiled.
Gion and Tokikake arrived at a brisk pace, leading over a hundred Marines.
"Admiral Sengoku!"
The two saluted smartly.
Gasps rang out among the gathered crowd.
This plain-looking man in thick glasses and a strange seagull hat was... a Marine Admiral?
One of the government’s strongest forces?
"Good. You've both grown during your time in North Blue."
Sengoku nodded with approval. His Observation Haki told him that their auras had grown considerably stronger since they left Marineford.
"Looks like that brat Darren trained you well."
The mention of his name sparked a flash of annoyance and frustration on their faces.
"Speaking of which, where is he? And Momonga?"
He glanced around.
Just then, a familiar voice rang out from the other end of the street.
"Admiral Sengoku, your arrival honors all of North Blue."
Darren and Momonga, both in uniform, strode briskly toward them.
But as Darren appeared, Sengoku felt something off through his Observation Haki.
The civilians of Batiya Island—they were watching Darren with a strange mix of fear, anger, and silent hatred.
As if they dared not speak.
Sengoku frowned ever so slightly.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 42: Consensus
Chapter Text
Batiya Island
City Hall, conference room.
Everyone else had tactfully left the room. Only Darren, Momonga, Gion, Sengoku, and Borsalino remained seated.
This was a private meeting for the North Blue Marines.
Darren lit a cigar, give Borsalino wearing his signature toad shaped sunglasses a brief glance, then turned to Sengoku with a slight smile.
"Any news on how your operation against Byrnndi World went, Admiral Sengoku?"
Watching the clearly frustrated Marine Admiral before him, Darren couldn't help but find it a little amusing.
With only one of the three Admiral seats filled—Zephyr devoted to training and Garp refusing promotion—the entire burden had fallen on Sengoku alone.
A walking tragedy, Darren thought.
Sengoku shook his head. "Something came up. The operation was called off."
He lifted a teacup and took a small sip, his sharp gaze sweeping across the table before his tone grew solemn.
"The real reason I came here... is because of that."
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Gion and the others straightened up, their expressions grave.
Sengoku paused, then continued slowly.
"Yesterday, an event occurred in the North Blue that has shaken the World Government."
"Saint Shaldes, a Celestial Dragon returning to Mary Geoise from Batiya Island, was attacked en route—and killed."
Darren shot to his feet in feigned shock.
"What!? That—that's impossible!"
Momonga's face mirrored the perfect level of disbelief, while Gion and Tokikake stiffened in place.
Their eyes briefly flicked to Darren.
But seeing the stunned expression on his face, both hesitated.
Sengoku, too preoccupied with the gravity of the situation, failed to notice the subtle exchange. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
Only Borsalino seemed to notice something—the smile on his lips growing just slightly more intrigued.
"The incident remains classified," Sengoku said wearily, "but I've been ordered to investigate thoroughly."
"Unfortunately, the surveillance Den Den Mushi aboard the government vessel failed to capture anything conclusive."
"All we can confirm is that the attack was instantaneous. The escort couldn't even react. The ship was sunk outright."
He passed a file across the table.
Darren flipped through the report, murmuring thoughtfully.
"To destroy an entire government vessel in an instant... Even in the Grand Line, there are only a few who could manage that. Let alone in the North Blue."
He handed the file to the others. Momonga skimmed it quickly. Though he'd expected the content, he was still amazed—Sengoku's investigation followed Darren's exact predictions.
"Admiral Sengoku... have you identified any suspects?" Darren asked calmly.
"Since it happened in the North Blue, part of the responsibility falls on us. My division will fully cooperate with your investigation."
Sengoku nodded, visibly pleased. "This is why entrusting the North Blue to you was the right call."
"I have a list of potential suspects, but so far, no real leads."
"I came to Batiya Island hoping to dig deeper. After all, Shaldes departed from here."
Darren nodded slowly, as if everything now made sense.
"You were in charge of his security while he was on Batiya Island," Sengoku said, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Before Shaldes set sail, did anything unusual happen? Any strange encounters or incidents?"
Gion and Tokikake flinched, their expressions uneasy.
"To be honest, Admiral..." Darren spoke up, his voice heavy with hesitation. "Something did happen."
Sengoku raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
Gion and Tokikake turned sharply toward Darren, stunned.
The Marine captain exhaled a long breath.
"It was an unfortunate event."
Carefully, he recounted the story of the flower-selling girl and her father.
...
Bang!
Sengoku's massive fist slammed down, splintering the table into pieces.
"Damn it!"
He stood, fists clenched and visibly trembling.
Whether his curse was for Shaldes, the CP agents, or himself, no one could say.
He saw in his mind the image of that small, trembling girl being dragged into the dark hull of a ship.
No one dared speak.
Eventually, Sengoku forced himself to calm down.
"The meeting ends here. I'm... tired."
Without another word, he left.
The others quickly followed.
Only Darren and Borsalino remained.
Both had faint, amused smiles on their faces.
"Sashi buri dana, Rear Admiral Borsalino," Darren said playfully, tossing him a gold-embossed cigar.
Borsalino caught it, sniffed it, and smiled. "Still the same as always, Darren. Always enjoying the finer things."
Lighting his own cigar, Darren shrugged. "Life in the Marines is hard enough. No need to make it worse by denying yourself comfort."
Borsalino studied him a moment, then grinned.
"Looks like you're doing quite well for yourself here."
He paused, tone becoming thoughtful.
"This is just the beginning, isn't it?"
Darren smiled faintly. "Who knows? I try to avoid trouble. A habit I picked up from you, actually."
Borsalino scratched his head. "Trouble’s always bad."
"But trouble always finds us," Darren replied.
"As long as it doesn't involve me..." Borsalino muttered, stretching lazily.
He turned to leave, waving a hand.
"Thanks for the cigar."
Just as he stepped through the doorway, he paused.
Turning back, he flashed a smile.
"By the way, I have a theory about what really happened to the Celestial Dragon."
"Oh? Let’s hear it, Rear Admiral Borsalino," Darren said, flicking ash from his cigar.
Borsalino’s sunglasses gleamed.
"I think the ship was attacked by a Sea King."
"A vessel that big? Pretty hard to miss."
"Just an accident, wouldn’t you say?"
Silence.
Utter silence.
Borsalino stared at Darren as if searching for something.
Darren, calm as ever, replied:
"A sharp observation. I completely agree."
They locked eyes for a long moment.
Then both men laughed.
Like a pair of cunning foxes.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 43: Eliminate All Impossibilities
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next day.
Batiya Island, City Government Meeting Room.
After a full day of intelligence gathering and investigation, the final briefing on the celestial dragon attack officially began.
Everyone took their seats.
The room was deathly quiet—you could hear a pin drop. Only the soft rustling of documents could be heard as Sengoku flipped through the intelligence file.
No one spoke. They waited in silence.
After a few minutes, Sengoku closed the file with a soft snap, raised his head, and swept his gaze across the room.
“Let’s hear your thoughts.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sounding tired.
Everyone glanced around at each other. In the end, it was Borsalino who broke the silence.
Wearing his usual lazy smile, he said,
“I still stand by what I said earlier. Judging by the surveillance footage, this might’ve just been a freak accident.”
“Sea King attacks aren’t common, sure—but not impossible either.”
Sengoku rolled his eyes and ignored the comment, turning instead to the highest-ranking officer in the North Blue.
“Darren, what’s your take?”
Darren took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying in a calm, measured voice:
“Admiral Sengoku, I agree with Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
“There’s a saying in my homeland: ‘Once you’ve eliminated all the impossible, whatever remains—no matter how unbelievable—must be the truth.’”
“The truth is, in the North Blue, there isn’t a single known individual capable of instantly destroying a World Government official vessel. And we’ve already ruled out the remaining suspects. That leaves only one plausible explanation—an attack by a Sea King.”
Sengoku frowned.
At that moment, Darren turned to look at Gion and Tokikake.
“Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake have a different perspective?”
The two visibly tensed under his calm gaze.
“You have something to add?” Sengoku asked, now watching them closely.
“I…”
Tokikake opened his mouth, but his mind was filled with the image of the girl’s father—kneeling in the dirt, sobbing uncontrollably, a man broken by grief.
“I agree with Captain Darren,” Gion suddenly said, her voice cold as ice.
Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had gone pale.
Tokikake turned to her in surprise, momentarily stunned.
Sengoku noted their strange reactions, but quickly understood. He sighed inwardly.
To stand by and watch a helpless civilian be abducted into slavery by a celestial dragon, unable to stop it—such a thing would be a crushing blow for those who believe in justice.
He shook his head slightly.
So… could the truth really be what Borsalino claimed?
As the thought crossed his mind, Sengoku glanced at the aloof man zoning out nearby. A strange feeling settled in his gut.
Something didn’t add up.
Could it really have been… a Sea King?
---
Temporary Office
“So this is your conclusion, Sengoku?”
“A Sea King attack?”
The CP0 agent sat across from Sengoku, clad in white silk. His voice was icy, and behind the eerie mask, his eyes stared blankly, yet sharply.
“You’re not seriously calling this your final report, are you? The elders will never accept this.”
Sengoku shifted under the pressure of that gaze and cleared his throat.
“…Yes.”
As if to reinforce his conviction, he added,
“There’s a saying in my homeland… ‘Once you’ve eliminated all the impossible, whatever remains—no matter how unbelievable—must be the truth.’”
CP0 said flatly, “Sengoku, do you really think the Gorosei will accept this?”
Sengoku remained silent.
After a pause, CP0 continued,
“What about the girl’s father? I think he should be interrogated. After all, he had a motive.”
A surge of anger rose in Sengoku’s chest. He gritted his teeth.
“I don’t believe that man is a suspect. He’s just a civilian.”
Sengoku had personally visited the man.
A gaunt face, hollow eyes, a walking corpse. A man who had lost his soul along with his daughter.
There was nothing suspicious about him.
And yes, of course he had motive.
Saint Shaldes had torn his daughter from him. If Shaldes weren’t a celestial dragon, shielded by countless layers of protection, the man would have torn him apart without hesitation.
But CP0 was unmoved. He spoke coldly,
“This incident involves a celestial dragon. We cannot afford to be anything less than thorough.”
“Sengoku… don’t forget. This is a direct order from the government. As an admiral, you’re expected to comply without question.”
“I am following orders,” Sengoku growled, cutting him off.
He leaned forward, planting both hands on the desk as he slowly stood. His presence grew oppressive, his voice low and rasping.
“By your logic, everyone on Batiya Island has a motive. What, do we round up the entire population and interrogate them all under torture!?”
“If it comes to that.” CP0’s tone remained unchanged.
Sengoku stared at him, then suddenly laughed—a cold, bitter sound.
“Sorry, but I won’t do it.”
“A Sea King attack. That’s the result of my investigation. And the man who lost his daughter—he’s nothing more than a tragic soul.”
“Report it to the Gorosei.”
CP0 silently observed him for a moment.
“…Understood.”
---
Sacred Land Mary Geoise — Pangaea Castle
World Government Headquarters
Steam wafted from a pot of hot tea.
Inside the heart of power, the Gorosei either sat or stood in silence. Their expressions were cold. The atmosphere was suffocating.
“This is the response from Sengoku,” came the raspy voice of CP0 through the transponder snail.
“We understand. Await further instructions,” said Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the blond Gorosei, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.
“Yes, sir.”
The transmission ended.
“Absurd,” Topman Warcury sneered.
“It’s not entirely impossible,” Shepherd Ju Peter muttered, his usual calm tone belying the tension in the room.
“I’m not saying there’s no chance, but the Shaldes family will never accept this,” Warcury replied, shaking his head.
The others fell into contemplative silence.
As the protectors of the celestial dragons’ interests, they didn’t particularly care about the death of one spoiled parasite.
What mattered was pacifying the fury of the other noble families.
Saint Shaldes may have been a waste of oxygen, but his family wielded great influence within Mary Geoise.
“Finding the truth” really just meant giving the right people a satisfactory answer.
“…Perhaps it’s time to expand the scope of the investigation,” Warcury said abruptly.
The others frowned.
A glint of cold calculation flashed in Warcury’s ancient eyes.
“I’ve lived through countless wars and learned one thing—”
“—there’s no such thing as coincidence.”
The others raised their brows.
“You’re suggesting…?”
Warcury smirked.
“Sengoku’s conclusion is foolish—but he said one thing that rings true: ‘Once you’ve eliminated all the impossible, whatever remains—no matter how unbelievable—must be the truth.’”
“If we’ve ruled out pirates and civilians, then the only possibility left…”
The others paused, expressions darkening.
“You don’t mean—”
“That’s right. I suspect—only suspect, of course…” Warcury narrowed his eyes.
“…the ones responsible might be…”
He slowly uttered a word that made the other Gorosei visibly react.
“…the Marines?”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
“When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
— Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 44: First, Eliminate Him as a Suspect
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“...The Marines?”
As soon as Topman Warcury spoke those words, the other four Gorosei froze. For a moment, they simply stared at him—bewildered, and in some cases, outright incredulous.
“Topman, are you seriously suggesting that?”
“That’s impossible!”
“You’re talking about the Marines—the enforcement arm of the World Government!”
“…”
It wasn’t that they believed the Marines lacked the strength to act against a Celestial Dragon—it was that they would never dare.
The Marines were the World Government’s most powerful and visible enforcement organization. While they had been established as a relatively independent military force with their own internal command structure, the truth was they were heavily reliant on government funding—and thus firmly under the World Government’s control.
Forget about ideology—just the financial leash alone was enough to keep the Marines tightly bound.
If there was anyone in the world who wouldn’t dare raise a hand against a Celestial Dragon… it was the Marines.
“Topman… are you absolutely certain about this suspicion of yours?”
The voice was rasped and dry. It came from the bald Gorosei, who until now had been silently polishing his blade.
Clad in traditional samurai robes, he sat cross-legged on the floor. Laid across his knees was a long katana, wrapped in dark purple-black flame-like patterns. Under the dim light of the villa, the sword shimmered with a cold and ominous gleam.
A cursed blade—without question.
As he raised his head, the sinewy muscles of his thin, veined arms flexed slightly. Behind the frameless glasses, his murky, shadowed eyes locked onto Topman Warcury—his closest friend, a man he had grown up with, trained alongside, and risen to power beside.
“I understand your concerns,” Warcury said calmly.
Though short in stature, he emanated a pressure that seemed to tower like a mountain—steadily rising and pressing down on the room.
“On the surface, it may seem impossible for the Marines to have had anything to do with the attack. But... that isn’t absolute.”
He let out a quiet, cold laugh.
“After all, even the Marines still have fools among them clinging to that ridiculous concept they call ‘justice.’”
“And more importantly…” Warcury's tone sharpened, “some of our fellow Celestial Dragons have… a history of committing deeds that could incite divine wrath.”
“That’s the basis of my suspicion.”
The room fell into momentary silence, then erupted with protest.
“Topman!! What are you implying!?”
“Don’t forget—the very power and position you hold now was granted through the will of our noble bloodline!”
“Watch your tone!”
“…”
Warcury met their outrage with a calm, unmoved gaze.
“I’m not slandering anyone,” he said. “I’m simply stating facts.”
“I come from one of the weakest bloodlines among the Nineteen Families. Climbing to where I am now—none of you understand our kind better than I do.”
“Surely, you all know this to be true.”
The others fell silent.
They knew. Deep down, they knew the truth about the depravity of the Celestial Dragons.
Born into unimaginable wealth, status, and power, with no need to strive or struggle—they had long since abandoned any concepts of virtue, dignity, or self-discipline.
Their pursuit of pleasure had become perverse, grotesque, and unhinged—crossing lines that even the Gorosei themselves could no longer stomach. But for the sake of politics and unity within Mary Geoise, they had long chosen to turn a blind eye.
“Topman… there’s no issue in investigating the Marines,” the samurai Gorosei—Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro—said quietly, resting his calloused hand on the hilt of his cursed blade.
“But it must be done with caution.”
“…And with limits.”
Warcury smiled faintly. He understood exactly what his old friend meant.
Two things.
First, investigate—but do it carefully, in secret.
Second, don’t dig too deep. Push too far, and you’d stir up more trouble than it’s worth.
“Of course,” Warcury said. “Sengoku’s withdrawal has already put Kong on edge.”
“If the Marines get wind that we’re investigating them, the backlash could be… significant.”
“That said, this may lead nowhere. It’s just a possibility we’re exploring—I won’t cling to it if there’s no substance.”
The other three Gorosei exchanged glances.
“In that case… who will conduct the investigation? The CP divisions would be too conspicuous.”
“If we move CP, the Marines will grow suspicious immediately.”
“It would be best to find someone within the Marines.”
“But who?”
Their gazes naturally drifted back to Topman Warcury.
Among the elite Celestial dragon, Warcury was known as a symbol of strategic brilliance.
It was precisely because of this reputation that the others were now willing to even entertain his proposition.
Feeling their eyes on him, Warcury lifted his chin with pride. A confident smile tugged at his lips.
“If we’re to choose someone, they’ll need to meet a few criteria.”
He began listing them off with practiced ease.
“First, they must be intelligent, cautious, and highly capable. Only then can they conduct an undercover investigation without detection.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Second, they must possess a deep hunger for power. Ideally someone who came from the lower ranks—that kind of ambition makes them easier to control.”
The others chuckled knowingly.
“Third…” Warcury’s gaze darkened slightly.
“They must not reek of that nauseating stench of ‘justice.’”
His aged eyes glinted with cunning brilliance.
“And finally—the ideal candidate would be someone with an infamously bad reputation. A Marine known for corruption, brutality, and submissiveness toward the Celestial Dragons.”
“That way… we can eliminate them as a suspect from the start.”
“In summary…”
He reached for a personnel file from the nearby stack and flipped through the pages swiftly.
Then—smack!
His hand slapped down on a page.
“He’s the perfect candidate.”
The other Gorosei leaned in. They stared, then slowly nodded in agreement.
“Hmm… as expected from Topman.”
“I approve.”
“Seconded.”
“Agreed.”
The file page displayed a photo of a young Marine officer—short black hair, sharp features, and an arrogant smile.
Name: Rogers Darren
Position: Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, Commander of 321st Branch; Marine Headquarters Captain
Assessment: Extremely power-hungry, greedy, womanizing, exploitative of civilians, infamously poor public reputation. Nickname: The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History.
…
As his colleagues murmured in approval, Topman Warcury smiled with pride.
He stared at the photo of the black-haired Marine.
Something about the face… felt oddly familiar.
As he had said, his own family was one of the weakest among the Nineteen Families.
From a young age, he had sworn to be different.
He had endured the harshest education, survived brutal training, and even joined real wars under a false identity—his body bore the scars of countless battles.
He had mastered the art of strategy, climbed over rivals, and carved his way through the blood-soaked path of politics to claim his seat among the Gorosei.
And now… he had to prove himself.
Prove that he was more cunning, more powerful, more worthy than the others.
Only then could he solidify his place—without the support of the Celestial Dragon Assembly.
Only then could he ascend beyond the rest…
…and become first among the Gorosei.
To the others, this attack on a Celestial Dragon may have been a crisis.
But to him—
It was an opportunity.
He stared at Darren’s arrogant smile in the photo, and felt as if fate itself… was smiling back at him.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator's Note:
Celestial Dragon Assembly – An internal political vote among the Celestial Dragons to decide positions of power within Mary Geoise.
Gorosei – The supreme ruling council of the World Government, composed of five elders representing Celestial authority.
Chapter 45: I’ll Need a Raise
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
North Blue, Batiya Island.
A private estate.
“This way, please. Captain Darren is waiting for you in the parlor.”
Momonga gestured politely as he led the arriving CP0 agent through the ornate gates.
The estate was vast—spanning over 2,000 square meters. Within its walls were rock gardens, fountains, a training field, and even a private forest path. Everything one might expect from a luxury manor was present.
As they passed through the lush greenery of the garden, Momonga’s gloved hands began to sweat beneath the leather.
CP0 had come personally—by name, even—requesting a private meeting with Darren.
Had the government found something out?
Momonga forced himself to remain calm, subconsciously speeding up his pace. Soon, they arrived at the parlor doors.
“Captain Darren,” he announced, saluting.
Inside, Darren sat with one leg crossed over the other, leisurely smoking a cigar. With a bright smile, he rose to greet his guest.
“A distinguished guest arrives, and I failed to welcome you personally. Forgive me.”
The mask hid the CP0 agent’s expression, but the voice that came through was cold and flat.
“Captain Darren. I come on behalf of one of the highest powers in the World Government… Saint Topman Warcury.”
“Oh?” Darren raised an eyebrow, motioning for the agent to take a seat. He stepped over to the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey, dropping a few ice cubes into each.
He’d heard of the man.
This newly appointed Gorosei came from a politically weak Celestial Dragon bloodline.
Yet through sheer strength and cunning, he secured a dominant majority of votes in the Celestial Dragon Assembly held at the Holy Land, earning his place among the highest authorities of the World Government in one decisive stroke.
A legendary story, no doubt.
Yet that name... it bore an unspoken dread.
Whispered to embody boundless might, it was a fragile titan—ever vulnerable, coveted by grasping hands.
In its shadow lingered a quiet terror: the specter of ruin.
“And what message does Lord Topman Warcury have for me?” Darren asked casually, handing over a glass of whiskey before taking a seat and sipping from his own.
The CP0 agent didn’t drink. He simply set the glass aside and glanced once toward Momonga.
The vice commander saluted again and quietly stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Only then did the agent produce a highly classified military transponder snail, placing it on the polished table and dialing a secure signal.
Buru-buru...
The snail began its call.
Darren narrowed his eyes.
This level of secrecy? A direct connection to the Gorosei themselves?
If he hadn’t been absolutely certain that he’d left no trace or evidence behind, he might have thought they were here to eliminate him.
Then—click.
The signal connected.
Whoosh—!
A holographic image projected from the snail.
Within a refined, elegant villa, five aged figures either stood or sat, all of them silently observing Darren with strange, unreadable gazes.
At once, Darren set down his glass, stood, and offered a respectful bow.
“Rogers Darren, Captain of Marine Headquarters, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines.—at your service, honorable Gorosei.”
The Gorosei chuckled coldly in unison.
“That’s enough. No need to play the obedient subordinate.”
“We know exactly what kind of man you are.”
“The infamous Disgrace of the Marines…”
“…Hmph.”
Darren simply smiled.
“You flatter me, my lords.”
The Gorosei: …
Darren continued, still grinning.
“To what do I owe the honor of this direct communication, sirs?”
“Admiral Sengoku is also on Batiya Island. I imagine he’d be more suitable if—”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Topman Warcury, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “This matter is not for Sengoku’s ears.”
His eyes sharpened as he looked at the young captain.
“We have another theory regarding the Celestial Dragon attack in the North Blue.”
Darren frowned, then asked carefully,
“…And that theory is?”
Warcury gave a cold smirk.
“We are ordering you to begin a covert investigation—starting immediately. Look into all Marine ship movements during the time of the incident… and any personnel capable of flight or flight-adjacent abilities.”
“You’re the top officer in the North Blue. This information should be well within your reach.”
Darren’s eyes widened. His expression twisted in disbelief.
“My lords… surely you’re not suggesting—”
Warcury’s tone was calm but firm:
“You know exactly what we’re suggesting. If you wish to keep your post, you’ll follow orders.”
Darren’s face darkened.
“You’re asking me to investigate my own comrades!?”
“I’m a Marine. You’re asking me to betray the trust of my fellow soldiers!?”
The Gorosei all frowned at once.
“So what you’re saying is—you intend to defy the World Government?”
Darren inhaled deeply, then replied in a low, steady voice:
“No. What I’m saying is…”
He clenched his fists. His voice hardened.
“…a captain doesn’t have enough authority for something like this.”
The Gorosei blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity.
Did this brat just… demand a promotion?
A mere captain—daring to bargain with the highest authorities of the World Government?
Then—Topman Warcury burst into laughter.
“Excellent. I knew I chose well.”
To the Gorosei, the Marines were tools—a show of strength, a symbol of order.
And the best tools were the ones that knew how to beg.
The worst kind were those stubborn fools clinging to their so-called ideals.
“Do well, Darren.”
“With your talent, a captain’s rank really is beneath you.”
Warcury gave him a long, meaningful look—then cut the transmission.
The image disappeared.
CP0 stood up, putting the transponder snail away.
“Not going to finish your drink?” Darren asked with a grin.
“After all, we’re colleagues now—serving the same masters.”
The agent hesitated, then raised the glass and took a slow sip. Without a sound, he faded into the air—his silhouette vanishing like a ghost.
Once Darren confirmed he was gone, the smile slid from his face.
A faint arc of violet-blue electricity crackled between his fingers as a magnetic pulse swept silently through the room.
No life signals remained.
CP0 was truly gone.
Darren tapped the table lightly.
The door opened, and Momonga stepped in.
“What happened?”
Darren lit another cigar, exhaling calmly.
“The World Government suspects the attack on the Celestial Dragon might have come from within the Marines.”
“The Gorosei contacted me directly. The one who raised the suspicion… was Topman Warcury.”
Momonga’s pupils shrank.
Topman Warcury—the so-called brains of the Gorosei.
At his recent ascension ceremony, the official herald had read aloud the meaning of his name, bestowed by his father:
> “The blade of supreme judgment, suspended above the world, compelling all to kneel—a symbol of ultimate authority and divine power.”
“They… really suspect us?”
Darren waved off the concern.
“No need to panic. They don’t know anything—yet.”
“They’ve just sent me to investigate everyone in the Marines.”
“…That’s bad. Damn it!”
Momonga cursed under his breath, then suddenly froze.
“…Wait a minute.”
He stared at Darren, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion.
“They… put you in charge of the investigation?”
Darren blew out a plume of smoke in a lazy spiral. His grin returned.
“Yes. They want me to investigate.”
He put heavy emphasis on that one word.
“A wise decision, don’t you think?”
He winked.
“After all, who better than a greedy, corrupt, power-hungry Marine scumbag with a reputation for kissing up to the Celestial Dragons?”
Momonga’s face turned red. He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
What the hell is this logic?
Did they just eliminate the real suspect… by putting him in charge?
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading.
If you’re enjoying the story, consider leaving a kudos, a comment, or even a bookmark—it means a lot, and helps me keep going!
Chapter 46: Smart, But Not Too Smart
Chapter Text
“So… what do you plan to do? Are you really going to investigate the Marines?”
Momonga frowned, brows tightly furrowed, as he instinctively lit a cigar. His eyes were filled with concern as he looked at the Marine captain before him.
Though the order had come from the highest authority of the World Government, the fact remained—it was an investigation into their own ranks. No matter how official it was, something about it didn’t sit right with him.
“Investigate? Why wouldn’t I?”
Darren raised his glass and took a light sip, his expression relaxed. A mocking smile played at the corners of his lips.
“This is a direct order from the great and venerable Gorosei. Naturally, I’ll carry it out beautifully.”
“But now that the investigation of the ‘Celestial Dragon attack’ is in my hands, we hold the initiative.”
Momonga glanced at him, unable to hold back a laugh.
He had to admit, that so-called “greatest mind in a century,” Saint Topman Warcury, had indeed demonstrated some rare insight by sensing the inconsistencies in the attack.
But… not much.
Letting the culprit lead the investigation…? Momonga’s lip twitched involuntarily.
“Still, we shouldn’t let this drag on too long,” Darren said as he drew deeply from his cigar. His sharp gaze gleamed under the smoke. “As long as the case remains open, CP0 and the investigative team will remain in the North Blue. I really don’t like being watched.”
Momonga nodded in firm agreement.
With the arrival of the investigation team, many of their operations had been forced to pause.
With Sengoku, a Headquarters Admiral, present, there wasn’t much room to maneuver.
---
The next day.
Batiya Island, City Government Office
Meeting Room.
“What!?” Sengoku’s voice rang out in disbelief. “You’re saying Darren’s been given full authority over the Celestial Dragon investigation!?”
He stared at the document the CP0 agent had presented, stunned.
Gion and Tokikake turned to Darren, equally dumbfounded, as if they had just heard the most absurd thing imaginable.
The masked CP0 agent, dressed in flowing white silk, coldly read from the official mandate:
“In light of Admiral Sengoku’s current workload and the imminent operation to capture the pirate Byrnndi World, full investigative authority over the ‘Celestial Dragon attack’ shall be transferred to Rogers Darren, Marine Captain and Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines. Effective immediately.”
Having finished the reading, the agent cast a chilling glance at Darren.
“The matter is urgent. Captain Darren, begin the investigation at once.”
Darren smiled politely and nodded.
“Of course.”
CP0 gave a short nod and prepared to leave.
But Sengoku suddenly protested.
“I already submitted my report. The incident was clearly an accident! Saint Shaldes was attacked by a Sea King—”
His words trailed off as CP0 turned to glare at him with an expression that practically screamed, ‘Are you stupid?’
Seeing this, Sengoku cleared his throat awkwardly and sank back into his chair.
The agent said nothing more. His figure flickered, then vanished into thin air.
The meeting room fell silent.
Gion and Tokikake exchanged uneasy glances.
Why was the investigation handed over to Darren? Tokikake’s eyes were wide.
How should I know? The order came directly from the government, Gion replied, brows knit.
Tokikake raised an eyebrow. So Saint Shaldes’s death… wasn’t Darren’s doing?
I have a feeling it’s not that simple, Gion replied, narrowing her eyes.
… Tokikake.
“Hey, hey, what’s with those weird faces you two are making?” Sengoku barked irritably.
Gion and Tokikake immediately straightened up in their seats.
“Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake have new thoughts on the case?” Darren asked smoothly.
Both of them shuddered involuntarily and looked up, only to see the North Blue Commander watching them with a half-smile, cigar in hand. His gaze made them both uneasy.
“N-No, nothing new,” Tokikake stammered.
Satisfied, Darren looked away.
“Darren, what’s your take on all this?” Sengoku asked, his tone serious. “Why do you think the government gave you the investigation?”
Darren paused thoughtfully before answering.
“Admiral Sengoku, I believe the government’s decision is perfectly reasonable.”
“Oh?” Sengoku frowned slightly.
Darren continued calmly, “The case has dragged on too long. As a Marine Headquarters Admiral, you’ve got more pressing responsibilities. It wouldn’t make sense for you to stay bogged down in this.”
Sengoku massaged his temple and sighed.
“If that’s the case, they should’ve accepted my report. Then the matter could’ve been closed already.”
He suddenly looked suspiciously at Darren.
“Unless… you’ve uncovered some new evidence?”
Darren raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.
“Of course not. Personally, I still agree with Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
He nodded politely toward the yellow-clad officer.
“This was nothing more than an unfortunate accident.”
Sengoku narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering briefly beneath the surface.
“If there are no new leads… there’s no reason they’d take the case away from me…” he muttered.
“Pretty convenient though, huh?” Borsalino suddenly chuckled, quietly trimming his nails with a small knife. “Means less trouble for you…”
It seemed like an offhand remark, but Sengoku’s eyes lit up.
That’s right!
This was a good thing!
He hadn’t wanted to be involved with this mess anyway. Investigating a dead Celestial Dragon? Thankless work.
Now that Darren had full control, Sengoku was free to return to more important matters. Whether it was heading back to Marineford or continuing the hunt for Bundy Valdo—it was all better than sitting around here.
Feeling pleased with himself, Sengoku smiled broadly.
He cleared his throat and turned to Darren with a fatherly tone.
“Well then, since the government has placed such trust in you, I expect you to perform well. Don’t disappoint them.”
Darren gave a modest smile.
“I’ll rely on your continued guidance, Admiral.”
Sengoku’s grin widened as he stood and patted Darren on the shoulder.
“Then I leave it in your hands.”
---
That evening.
After finishing his daily training, Darren headed back toward his private estate on Batiya Island, soaked in sweat.
The sun had just begun to set.
His uniform was torn and ragged, barely clinging to his frame. His chiseled body was covered in sweat and dirt, with shallow craters and scorched marks etched into his skin—scars from live ammunition and artillery strikes.
“You really haven’t changed at all, huh…”
A lazy voice called out from behind.
Darren stopped in his tracks, smirking as he turned around.
A tall figure leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the golden sunlight bathing his cloak in crimson. The shadows stretched across his face, but beneath his sunglasses, his eyes gleamed with mischief.
“Living like a wild beast every day… don’t you ever get tired?”
Darren tossed a cigar his way, lit one for himself, and smiled.
“Not all of us were born monsters like you, Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 47: A Promotion?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Come on now, you're Sakazuki-approved!" Borsalino raised both hands in a mock surrender.
Darren patted the dust from his uniform, frowning. "That sounds... weirdly wrong coming from you."
Borsalino gave him a long look, then suddenly broke into a sly grin.
"So... the government’s starting to suspect something, huh?"
Darren couldn’t help but acknowledge the thought flashing through his mind: Sharp as ever.
Even as someone who’d lived through another life, Darren still couldn’t quite see through Borsalino. They’d worked together back when Borsalino was stationed in the North Blue, and even then, his stance was an enigma.
"Ambiguous Justice"... Was that really justice?
One thing Darren was sure of: Borsalino never let anything stick to him—and never caused trouble for himself.
Still smiling, Darren replied, "I'm just following orders."
Borsalino exaggerated a gape and scratched his head. "Strange, strange world..."
He shot Darren a knowing look. "But makes sense, I guess. You’re probably the least suspicious guy around."
‘This bastard just can’t stop stirring the pot...’ Darren twitched a little at the corner of his mouth.
He was certain now—Borsalino had figured something out. This was a test.
Fine. If you want to play, I’ll play.
"That said," Darren began casually, "I’ve been thinking more about the Celestial Dragon incident. I remembered something else."
"Oh?" Borsalino feigned interest, raising an eyebrow. "Do tell."
His smirk deepened. "I thought you were in my camp—the Sea King theory, remember?"
Darren shrugged. "Thoughts can change."
Borsalino tilted his head. "So what’s the new theory?"
Darren held up a finger. "First, the attacker had the power to obliterate a government vessel in an instant."
Borsalino nodded, still smiling. "Sure, sure..."
Second finger up. "Second, based on the timeline, the attacker had to be in the North Blue."
No comment. Just that same smug smile.
Darren raised a third finger. "And third, we’ve already combed through all registered Marine ships—no anomalies. That means the attacker probably had high-speed flight capabilities."
He lowered his hand and looked Borsalino dead in the eye. "Putting that together... I think I know someone who fits the bill."
"Oh? Who?"
Darren just kept staring at him.
Borsalino’s smile froze.
"Hahahahaha, just messing with you," Darren chuckled.
Something about wiping that smug look off Borsalino’s face was deeply satisfying.
"Don’t worry, I’m on your side, Rear Admiral."
With that, Darren turned and strolled back into his estate, waving lazily behind him.
"Get some rest. You and Admiral Sengoku are heading out tomorrow. I’ll be there to see you off."
As the sun set, Borsalino stood motionless.
In the reflection of his oversized sunglasses, Darren’s fading silhouette shimmered.
The breeze rippled through his coat.
"You’re getting more interesting by the day, Darren..."
---
The next morning — Batiya Port.
The North Blue Marines had locked down the area. Under Darren’s command, they organized a grand farewell ceremony for Admiral Sengoku.
Flowers lined the streets, honor guards stood in formation, and ceremonial cannons fired into the sky. Bursts of colorful smoke and fireworks erupted overhead. The Marines aboard Sengoku’s flagship were brimming with pride.
"You brat, always putting on these flashy shows," Sengoku grumbled. But he was smiling like a fool.
Darren gave a graceful bow. "All of this was organized by the North Blue Marines—just a small way to show their admiration for you."
"You little..." Sengoku waved dismissively, though his eyes gleamed.
Hardworking. Reliable. Obedient. Clever. Charismatic.
Yes, Darren was the kind of subordinate you couldn’t help but appreciate.
Unlike someone else.
Speaking of which—said someone was already lounging on a deck chair, sipping juice like he was on vacation.
Sengoku hadn’t even boarded yet.
Remind me again who's the admiral here?
The thought of staring at Borsalino’s face for the entire voyage instantly soured his mood. With a long sigh, Sengoku looked away.
"So scary~" would be the first thing out of that man’s mouth—no matter what he saw.
Why, oh why, had he ever picked that clown as his adjutant?
"Buru buru... Buru buru..."
The transponder snail in his coat rang.
Sengoku paused, then answered.
"Sengoku."
A raspy voice came through. Instantly, Sengoku’s expression hardened.
"Lord Topman Warcury... regarding the Celestial Dragon incident—"
He braced for a grilling.
"No need," the old voice interrupted, surprisingly pleasant. "That matter has been resolved."
Sengoku blinked.
"Captain Darren submitted the final report. We were quite satisfied."
"You did well, Sengoku. Darren said he never would’ve uncovered the truth without your guidance."
Sengoku: ???
What report?
What truth??
It hadn’t even been a full day!
Darren hadn’t left Batiya!
He turned to the young captain, who only smiled and bowed politely.
"Did you hear me, Sengoku?"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"This time, the government was pleased," Warcury said. "You truly live up to your title—‘The Strategist.’"
Dizzy with confusion, Sengoku still couldn’t help feeling proud.
"You're too kind, my lord."
"And that Darren... quite the talent."
A pause.
"Frankly, he’s overqualified for a captain’s rank."
Sengoku got the message loud and clear.
"Captain Darren has passed the officer training program. Once his current post ends, he’ll report to Marineford for formal promotion. The higher-ups all agree—he’s a valuable asset."
"Good to hear."
The transmission ended.
Sengoku stared at the now-dormant transponder snail.
Then, slowly, he turned to Darren.
"You little... When did you wrap up the investigation!?"
Darren smiled serenely. "All thanks to your guidance, Admiral."
Sengoku rolled his eyes. I owe this brat now?
"So who did it, then?"
"Byrnndi World."
"...Excuse me?"
Sengoku nearly bit his tongue. "He was under pursuit when it happened! He couldn’t have—"
He stopped.
The realization hit.
Darren lit a cigarette. "Who cares about the truth?"
Like a thunderclap, that hit Sengoku right in the chest.
He's right.
There were no witnesses. The Marine had kept everything under wraps.
To most of the world, nothing had happened.
The government didn’t want truth. They wanted a convenient answer.
And Darren had given them one.
On paper, Saint Shaldes was slain by the infamous Byrnndi World.
That would placate his influential family in Mary Geoise.
A pirate attack sounded better than... a Sea King.
Truth didn’t matter. Politics did.
And somehow, Darren had delivered exactly what everyone needed.
Well—everyone but Byrnndi World himself.
...Though honestly, he might enjoy the credit.
All that was left now was to capture the “Celestial Slayer.”
Which, ironically, had been Sengoku’s mission all along.
He stared at Darren, wide-eyed.
"Hahahaha! You little devil—you nailed it!"
Sengoku clapped him hard on the shoulder.
"I knew handing the case to you was the right call!"
Gion and Tokikake both blinked.
Wasn't that the World Government’s order...?
Neither dared say it aloud.
"You know, it really does feel like a captain’s rank is beneath you," Sengoku mused.
He winked.
"Congratulations, Commodore Rogers Darren."
Gion and Tokikake stared, jaws on the floor.
C-Commodore!?
He killed a Celestial Dragon... and got promoted!?
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
Although Darren has been promised a promotion, he will only be officially granted the rank of Commodore after reporting to Marineford. Until then, his formal rank remains Captain.
Chapter 48: The North Blue Commander’s Condolences
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
For a moment, Gion and Tokikake felt like the world before them had shattered into absurdity—a dreamlike illusion they couldn’t wake from.
Their mouths moved, but no words came out.
None of this made any sense!
A Celestial Dragon was dead—and even if the killer hadn’t been caught, how in the world did that lead to a promotion?
They had no solid evidence to prove Darren was the one who killed Saint Shaldes, but their gut told them enough.
This man had mastered the art of power and politics.
He had precisely grasped what the World Government needed—not truth, but a solution. And he had delivered it effortlessly, solving a problem even Admiral Sengoku couldn’t untangle.
Looking back, with someone as cunning and calculated as Darren, it would be terrifyingly easy for him to make them vanish from the North Blue without a trace.
That realization sparked something else in their eyes—fear.
Darren, of course, noticed every flicker of their changing expressions. He simply smiled.
Then, turning to Sengoku, he saluted crisply. “Thank you in advance for your support, Admiral.”
“Good, good! That’s the spirit.” Sengoku smiled in satisfaction.
“I’ll be heading out now…” He glanced at the still-stunned Gion and Tokikake, then added with a sigh, “Take care of these two brats, will you?”
Darren nodded. “No problem, Admiral.”
And with that, Sengoku boarded his flagship.
To the sound of roaring ceremonial cannons and cheers from the North Blue Marines, the massive warship Sengoku raised sail.
The sea wind filled the canvas, making the black calligraphy of "正義"—Justice—ripple with power and resolve.
"Cast off!"
A young Marine on the lookout tower shouted.
The ship’s anchor rose. Rudders turned. The fortress-like warship began to glide into the open sea.
From the deck, Sengoku turned and saluted Darren and the assembled Marines on shore—tall and proud.
Then he turned back… and promptly twitched.
Someone was lounging under the sun, drink in hand.
“…Borsalino.”
He frowned and looked toward the stern. There were crates. Lots of them.
“What’s all this?”
Borsalino stretched and sauntered over lazily.
“Oh, that? Just a little parting gift from Captain Darren.”
Sengoku’s eye twitched. That brat wasn’t bribing him, was he?
He hurried over and flung open the crates.
Inside the crates were simple, thoughtful gifts—nothing extravagant, but each one carefully chosen:
The cigars were the exact brand that Marshal Kong favored.
The senbei crackers were Sengoku’s personal favorite.
The jasmine tea? Tsuru’s daily go-to.
The donuts—Garp couldn’t go a single day without them.
And the sherry? Zephyr’s most beloved drink.
Each item carried meaning. A quiet tribute. A nod to those who mattered.
Sengoku stared at the pile for a long time, then smiled and shook his head.
"That little punk… he actually has a heart."
But just as he softened, he turned and roared:
“BORSALINO, YOU BASTARD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
Borsalino froze mid-reach, hand hovering over a senbei.
“…I was hungry, Admiral.”
Sengoku seethed. “That’s a gift. For me.”
Hands raised in surrender, Borsalino backed off. “Okay, okay…”
He turned and muttered, “…You’re so stingy lately.”
Sengoku’s jaw clenched.
---
Pangaea Castle, Sacred Land Mary Geoise — World Government Headquarters
“This is the classified report submitted by Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, Rogers Darren” said the CP0 agent, kneeling respectfully as he offered the document.
The Gorosei exchanged glances.
“That was quick.”
“He’s quite capable.”
“Another good call, Topman.”
Topman Warcury smirked, pleased.
Darren hadn’t let him down.
He’d found a perfect resolution—fast, clean, and acceptable to all.
“Still,” Saint Nusjuro muttered, polishing his cursed black-bladed katana, “why did the Shaldes family suddenly quiet down?”
The others turned to Warcury.
The Shaldes were notoriously unreasonable—even among Celestial Dragons. Arrogant, paranoid, greedy to the core.
Warcury chuckled.
“Three hours ago, a merchant ship from the North Blue passed every inspection and entered the Holy Land.”
“Over a billion Berries’ worth of treasure and rare goods were offloaded directly to the Shaldes estate.”
“The shipment included a letter, offering sincere condolences and deep sorrow from Captain Rogers Darren—along with a ‘small token’ of comfort to the great Celestial family.”
The smile on Warcury’s face turned sharp.
“Ten minutes later, CP0 received a new escort request from a Celestial Dragon.”
“Shaldes’ father, Saint Schild, is currently en route to Pleasure District in the New World.”
The other Gorosei: …
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author's Note:
Pleasure District is the largest red-light district and entertainment zone in the New World.
Chapter 49: Even a Celestial Dragon Has a Price
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"So that’s how it is…"
The other Gorosei looked at one another, then broke into quiet, wry smiles.
Bloodline mattered among Celestial Dragons—but not that much.
There was never compassion at the top.
Only profit was eternal.
Sons? Easily replaced.
"A sensible boy."
"Saved us a lot of trouble."
"Billion Berries isn’t exactly a small number."
"No, it isn’t."
The Gorosei murmured in agreement.
Topman Warcury smiled faintly. “Darren is a clever one. After this incident, we may want to maintain long-term contact with him.”
That got their attention.
It was a good idea.
Anyone with eyes could see it—Rogers Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, was destined for higher places. Sooner or later, he’d be among the top echelons of the Marines.
With his talent, becoming an admiral was only a matter of time.
And if that admiral were someone loyal to the World Government, their grip over the Marines would grow tighter. He’d serve as a check on the other admirals, too.
Topman Warcury saw the flickers of calculation in his colleagues’ eyes and sneered inwardly.
He was already among the highest powers in the world—his words could destroy nations.
But it wasn’t enough.
He was Topman Warcury—his name, derived from the blade of judgment that hung over kings.
His ambition? Nothing short of becoming the head of the Gorosei.
But unlike the others, his family lacked the entrenched power in Mary Geoise. He didn’t have the backing the others enjoyed.
To rise to the very top, he needed to build external power.
The Marines—powerful, vast, and crucial—would be his opening.
And Darren… would be his weapon.
One step at a time, he’d elevate Rogers Darren into the heart of the Marines’ command structure. Piece by piece, the Marine power structure would become his.
And once that happened, his influence within the World Government would grow immensely.
“For now, though… let’s take a look at that report.”
Topman opened the file, his expression calm.
---
North Blue — 321st Branch,, Base Commander’s Office
After seeing Sengoku off, Darren and his officers returned to the base on Batiya Island.
“So… everything went smoothly on the Holy Land’s end?”
Smiling as he puffed on a cigar, Darren exhaled a cloud of smoke and nodded. “I sent the Shaldes family a very… sincere gesture of sympathy. They couldn’t refuse.”
He emphasized the word "sincere."
“What gesture?” Momonga asked, eyes narrowing.
“A bllion Berries.”
“WHAT?!”
Momonga staggered back, stunned.
A billion?! That was more than the annual tax revenue of many small kingdoms.
Even with all their underground connections, the entire North Blue Marine fleet only brought in just over two billion a year through covert taxation and black market operations.
This single ‘gift’ had wiped out nearly half their yearly income!
And with their plans to expand the North Blue fleet, resources were already tight.
“Are you insane?” Momonga muttered, exasperated.
He wasn’t just Darren’s aide—he was the steward of their entire operation.
Watching Darren throw money around like confetti made his chest tighten.
“It was worth every Berry,” Darren said, flicking ash.
“Money can always be earned again. But a chance to offer tribute to a Celestial Dragon? That doesn’t come every day.”
“If I hadn’t established a connection with Topman Warcury, my ship wouldn’t even have been allowed into the Red Line’s inner sea.”
A billion Berries was a terrifying number. Especially in this era—Year 1492 of the Sea Circle Calendar. Inflation hadn’t yet eroded the currency’s value.
Even a legendary pirate like Byrnndi World only had a bounty of 200 million.
So this gift? Worth five Byrnndi Worlds.
Still, Darren didn’t hesitate.
In this world, power always came first.
And after that? Influence—not money.
Momonga mulled it over and grudgingly nodded. “Still… it’s a steep price.”
“Is it?” Darren chuckled. “I thought it was rather poetic.”
“Poetic?”
Darren took another drag of his cigar.
“Celestial Dragons hold absolute power. To them, everyone else is livestock—something to buy, sell, discard. Everything has a price.”
He smirked.
“And now we know—so does their life.”
Momonga blinked, then gave a helpless, bitter laugh.
Only someone like Darren—equal parts rebel and lunatic—could turn that logic into strategy.
After a pause, Momonga asked, “What about the internal investigation?”
“It’s been submitted,” Darren replied casually. “Every detail the Government wanted—I handed it over.”
“The patrol records of all ships during the incident, the positions of every officer—ours included.”
“…And you?”
Darren’s eyes gleamed. “Me?”
He spread his arms.
“I, the Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, was of course stationed dutifully on Batiya Island at the time. Carrying out my responsibilities.”
“We have dozens of witnesses. Our fleet. CP0's oversight team. Lieutenant Commander Tokikake. Lieutenant Commander Gion.”
He gave a lazy shrug.
“A flawless alibi.”
Crushing the cigar in an ashtray, Darren stood and draped his Marine coat over his shoulders.
“Let’s go. Now that the big shots have cleared out, we can finally get to work.”
“…Where?” Momonga asked, confused.
Darren didn’t break stride. He threw open the door and walked into the cold sea breeze.
His white coat flared behind him like a wild storm.
“We lost a billion because of one Celestial Dragon,” he said.
“It’s only fair we make it back… from another one.”
Momonga froze.
Then it clicked.
A single name flashed through his mind:
—Donquixote Doflamingo.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
At this point in the timeline (Year 1492 of the Sea Circle Calendar), Byrnndi World’s bounty is listed as just 200 million Berries.
However, based on how he’s portrayed—and assuming he’s comparable in power to pirates with 1 billion Berries during the canon timeline (thirty years later)— I'd estimate that the Berry may have lost up to 80% of its value over time.
This is purely speculative, of course. But if we treat it as a rough benchmark, it would suggest an average annual inflation rate of around 5.2%.
It’s a small glimpse into how much the world economy might’ve changed by the time the Great Pirate Era, triggered by Gol D. Roger’s execution, was in full swing.
Chapter 50: You've Crossed the Line
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
North Blue.
Rubeck Island.
The sky hung low, dark and desolate.
Bang bang bang...
Boom boom...
Gunfire and explosions echoed throughout the town as hundreds clashed violently in the streets.
Civilians screamed in terror, scattering in all directions. Cries and sobs filled the air.
Buildings crumbled under the relentless shelling, bursting into towering flames.
Fiery wings of destruction licked at the heavens, painting the sky red.
"Damn Donquixote Family!! Rubeck Island is Fells Family territory!!"
"You've crossed the line!!"
A man in a newsboy cap and black trench coat shouted furiously as he slashed a pirate's throat, blood splattering across his face. His once-white shirt was soaked red as he glared at the blond kid nearby with bloodshot eyes.
The boy looked only eleven or twelve, standing barely 140 centimeters tall. He wore sunglasses, a white button-up, and cropped pants.
Despite his young age, his face bore a twisted grin so crazed and cruel that even the seasoned crime boss trembled.
Donquixote Doflamingo.
No one knew where this ruthless brat had come from, but his methods were cold-blooded and vicious.
With sheer strength and a growing army, the Donquixote Family had stormed into the North Blue, wiping out several local mafia clans and seizing their territories at a terrifying pace.
"Hehhahaha..."
Doflamingo burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as if Fells’ words were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. His underlings chuckled as well:
Trebol, slime-covered and sniffling, twirled his cane.
Pica, a hulking musclebound figure, stood like a tower.
Diamante, painted in wild tribal colors, grinned behind his war paint.
Vergo, with a slice of steak still stuck to his cheek, remained unreadable.
"Crossed the line?"
Doflamingo sneered theatrically, spreading his arms wide.
"No, no, no. I haven’t crossed any line."
Fells looked around at his fallen comrades and grew desperate.
The Donquixote Family had grown too strong—more men, better weapons. If this continued, his entire family would be wiped out within minutes.
Gripping his bloodied blade tightly, he gritted his teeth and shouted:
"Territory boundaries are sacred! Stability between families depends on it! That’s the rule of the North Blue!"
Doflamingo chuckled darkly.
"No, you still don’t get it."
"Rules? They’re just chains the strong slap on the weak. Cages for the helpless, the mediocre, the trash."
"I didn’t cross any line..."
He licked his cracked lips, raised his arms, and roared:
"Because the entire North Blue belongs to me!!"
"Your so-called rules? They mean nothing to me, Donquixote Doflamingo!!"
His men howled with laughter and bloodlust, surging forward with rifles, axes, swords. Like wild beasts, they descended upon the Fells Family.
Blades clashed. Blood sprayed.
A deep, violent red bloomed across the once-lively streets.
"Die!!"
Fells roared in fury. He stomped the ground and launched forward, crossing ten meters in a blink.
His blade came crashing down on the arrogant brat—a killing blow meant to cleave his skull in two.
But just as the blade neared its mark, Fells’ pupils shrank in horror.
He saw their faces.
Doflamingo, Trebol, Pica, Diamante, Vergo—they were all smiling.
Mocking. Predicting.
Clang!!
Sparks flew. His blade stopped three centimeters from Doflamingo’s forehead. Frozen in place.
Something invisible was holding it back.
The air screeched like grinding steel.
"What... what is this...?"
Fells choked. His heart pounded in dread.
The golden-haired boy looked up at him, that smirk still dancing on his lips.
"Fufufufu... how boring."
Doflamingo chuckled again.
His fingers twitched.
Fells’ eyes widened.
A slicing sound split the air.
An unseen blade tore open his chest, blood erupting like a geyser.
Shhhk!
Hot crimson sprayed across Doflamingo’s face, painting him like a devil incarnate.
Fells collapsed, his skin pale as death. Blood pooled beneath him.
"You... crossed the line... Darren... the Marines... they won’t let you get away with this..."
A twisted shadow loomed over him.
Doflamingo laughed coldly.
"The Marines?"
He looked down at the fallen mafia boss.
"I look forward to it."
He raised his foot.
Crunch!
Fells' skull burst like a melon.
Red and white mixed into a grotesque smear.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
To fully experience Doflamingo’s madness, menace, and twisted charisma—take a moment to listen to how he laughs.
You can find clips of his iconic laugh on YouTube by searching “Doflamingo laugh One Piece”.
Just a few seconds will bring a new depth to every line in this chapter.Note: Most of these clips feature Doflamingo as an adult. At this point in the story, he’s only around 11 or 12 years old, so his voice would sound younger—but the tone, the energy, that unhinged joy? It’s already there.
I’ve also posted a short sample on my patreon.com/Bellion001 if you’d prefer to check it out there.
Let the sound echo in your head—and then return to the page. You’ll hear him in every word.
Chapter 51: The Will of Doffy
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
It’s funny how something as simple as a comment can lift your spirits.
Today, I received my first one—and it reminded me why I started doing this.
Thanks for reading—I hope this journey is worth it for you too.
Chapter Text
Blood and brains splattered together, painting the muddy street in brutal colors.
A pointed leather shoe pressed into the gore. Above it, a golden-haired boy, drenched in blood, tilted his head back and let out a triumphant, unhinged laugh.
"Hehhahaha!"
The remaining members of the Fells crime family froze mid-battle, their faces draining of color. Horror seized their hearts as they stared at the blood-soaked youth.
"That kid..."
"He's a demon..."
"A full-blown demon..."
Amidst burning ruins, collapsed buildings, curling black smoke, and writhing flames, the boy stood beside a headless corpse like a devil born of war and fire.
Behind him, the top brass of the Donquixote Family gazed at their young lord with burning admiration.
Trebol. Pica. Diamante. Vergo.
Each of them knelt in spirit before the radiance of their king.
Such power. Such grandeur.
Like a rising star, young Doflamingo shone with blinding brilliance.
Born of noble blood. Wielding power that needed no justification. The natural order bent around him.
A cold smile tugged at his lips as he stepped over the corpse of Fells and marched forward, fingers twitching midair as if plucking strings.
With each motion, unseen blades slashed across the streets and buildings, leaving behind clean, unnatural cuts in stone, brick, and flesh.
In his path, a dozen Fells gangsters froze.
Thin crimson lines bloomed across their throats.
By the time they realized what had happened, the world had already tilted sideways.
They saw their own bodies.
Their shoes.
Their fading eyes filled with confusion.
And then, nothing.
Their heads fell.
Schlick!
Fountains of blood erupted from their necks as their lifeless bodies remained standing for one final moment.
"Hehhahaha!"
Doflamingo laughed louder, madness taking hold.
Blood and fire. Screams and steel.
"Finish the rest," he said with a lazy grin.
Donquixote pirates surged forward, eyes gleaming red with fury. Like ravenous beasts, they swept through the street, overwhelming the enemy.
Within minutes, dozens of Fells men had fallen.
The street was no longer a battleground. It was a slaughter.
Blood pooled in the cobblestones. The stench of gunpowder and death clung to the air.
In the center stood the boy.
Doflamingo inhaled deeply, as though savoring the perfume of chaos.
"Fufufu... This is the world I want," he whispered. "A world where chaos reigns. Where only the victors get to walk the stage."
He spread his arms wide. Barely five feet tall, yet exuding the presence of a king.
Smoke, sweat, corpses, and terror surrounded him.
He saw their eyes—the eyes of the Fells gang.
Terror. Submission. Powerlessness.
Yes.
That is how insects should look at me.
Father... are you watching?
This is the gaze we were meant to receive.
This is the world the Celestial Dragons deserve.
Memories flashed—torches, arrows, hatred in the firelight.
He remembered.
Tied to a wall, treated like cattle. Screaming in agony.
They were Dragons. But they were burned like pigs.
You were wrong, Father.
You were wrong.
I am right.
His fingers curled into fists. His glasses flashed with cold hatred.
Crack!
Lightning split the sky. Thunder howled.
And then the rain came.
Torrents fell upon the blood-soaked city.
It washed the blood.
Beat down the fires.
Covered the screams.
The massacre drew to a close. The Fells had broken.
Kneeling. Begging.
Only death answered.
Thirty minutes passed. Then, as quickly as it had come, the rain faded.
Steam rose from broken rubble. Blood soaked the streets. Corpses lay everywhere.
Doflamingo stood alone in the road.
Raindrops dripped from his hair, sleeves, and pant legs.
Around him, his officers knelt in silence, weapons still slick with blood.
Waiting.
"Take the island," he said. "No more killing civilians. Let the people know—our rule brings stability."
His hands trembled. He was suppressing the urge to burn it all.
But he would control himself.
Rubeck Island was only the beginning.
He needed territory. Resources. Infrastructure.
Plundering towns? Wandering aimlessly?
That's what low-class pirates do.
He would build an empire.
And then, the world would kneel.
His men bowed their heads in awe.
Only a king who could tame his own chaos was worthy of loyalty.
That was their young lord.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A sound broke the stillness.
They turned.
A man stood atop the ruins, tall and calm, hands coming together slowly in applause.
He was smiling.
"That was impressive" the stranger said.
"The difference between a drifter and a man with ambition—it shows in the eyes."
He met Doflamingo's gaze.
"You're the real thing."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 52: I Want to Talk
Chapter Text
Doflamingo narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, silently observing the uninvited guest.
The black-haired man stood atop a smoking ruin, slowly clapping. He was tall—exceptionally so. His short, jet-black hair and the long white cape trailing behind him fluttered gently in the gunpowder-scented wind.
Though technically a lowborn commoner, this man exuded an aura of nobility—feral, sharp, charismatic. He had the presence of a wild beast wrapped in elegance. A warrior's face. The kind of man who would laugh even through pain.
Strong, but composed.
Savage, but regal.
Ruthless, but sharp.
This was a man who always looked toward the horizon.
He wore a faint smile.
Doflamingo knew that smile.
He had shown that very smile to countless prey in the past. It was the smirk of a hunter staring down his catch—the gleeful cruelty of a cat toying with a cornered mouse.
And at that moment, something stirred deep in Doflamingo’s chest. A suppressed, burning urge to destroy this man. Not fight—obliterate.
How dare he look at me like that?
That gaze... It was the same gaze those five old bastards of the World Government wore when he stood before them, holding his father's severed head.
"Doflamingo."
"Marine!?"
Trebol recognized the uniform immediately. With a start, he shouted, and in an instant, the air was thick with killing intent.
Shk-shk-shk!
Dozens of Donquixote Family pirates raised their rifles in perfect sync, aiming straight at the black-haired Marine. Hundreds of barrels pointed squarely at his chest.
They were the Donquixote Pirates. The Marine? Not a threat.
"Whoa there, pulling guns already?"
The man raised his hands in mock surrender, smiling pleasantly. At first glance, it looked like he was giving up.
Trebol and the others frowned, confused.
But then—something chilling.
"I really don’t like having guns pointed at me."
As he said this, an unseen force rippled from the Marine.
The pirates suddenly felt their rifles jerked from their hands as if wrenched by an invisible hand. They floated, twisted in the air—and turned.
Barrels now aimed back at their original wielders.
What... the hell?
Panic swept through the pirates as their own rifles took aim at their foreheads. They’d never seen anything like this.
Click.
Safety latches snapped open.
Triggers began pulling back... slowly... on their own.
The silence was deafening. Time seemed to stop. The only sound was the soft metallic creak of hundreds of guns preparing to fire.
Fear slammed into the Donquixote Pirates like a tidal wave.
Someone audibly swallowed.
"Well, I’ll say this much: having pirates surrender to their own guns? Borsalino would love this shot."
The Marine chuckled, then turned to the boy at the center of it all.
"Hey, Doflamingo. I want to talk."
Originally, Darren just wanted to rough up the twisted little brat, maybe teach him a lesson if he was in a bad mood. Or kill him quickly if he was feeling generous.
He could do it. Wipe out the entire Donquixote Family, and no one would ever know. Not even the World Government could trace it back.
As for his so-called "Celestial Dragon bloodline"? Darren couldn’t care less.
The Shaldes Saint incident proved that even a Celestial Dragon’s life had a price tag.
But then... Doflamingo said something that changed Darren’s mind.
The kid was twisted, sure. He radiated destruction and madness. But he was more than just a monster—he was smart. Strategic. Calculating.
He wasn’t like the average pirate, only capable of pillage and chaos.
He could control himself. Channel his desire for power. That made him dangerous. And potentially... useful.
With the right leash, Doflamingo could be a powerful tool. Even the World Government might think twice before crossing Darren if he had someone like this under his thumb.
"Talk?" Doflamingo sneered. "Fufufu... Marines and pirates have nothing to talk about."
"Not always. I’m not your average Marine."
Darren shrugged.
"Well, I have no intention of talking."
Doflamingo’s face twisted. His smile turned feral. He whipped his hand forward.
"I just want to kill you."
Shing!
Invisible threads ripped through the air like razors. Two nearby buildings groaned, then split cleanly in half.
Clang!
A sharp sound rang out.
Doflamingo's eyes widened.
His threads had struck Darren’s chest—but stopped. A shallow scratch on the Marine uniform... and that was it.
Sparks flew where thread met skin. The blades couldn’t dig deeper.
"Impossible!!"
Trebol and the others stared in horror.
Their young master, even at twelve, had honed the String-String Fruit to a terrifying degree. His threads could slice ships in two!
But now? They couldn’t even pierce this Marine’s skin?
What... was this man?
"String-String Fruit, huh? Too bad you haven’t learned Haki yet."
Darren looked down at the thread, still embedded in his chest.
With a flick of his fingers, he hooked it.
Doflamingo felt an overwhelming force drag him forward.
His body jerked off the ground, reeled toward Darren like a hooked fish.
"If you draw your weapon, you’d better be ready to die."
Darren smiled coldly.
Snap.
He clicked his fingers.
Bang bang bang bang!
Gunfire exploded like a thunderstorm. Hundreds of rifles fired at once.
One by one, the Donquixote Pirates fell. Each shot precise. Each fatal.
And by the time the last body hit the ground...
Doflamingo was just three meters away.
In the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses—
He saw Darren’s smile.
Icy. Inevitable.
And growing closer.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 53: Taking Down a Celestial Dragon
Chapter Text
"Young master!!"
"Doffy!!"
"Damn it!!"
Trebol and the others turned pale with terror as they watched their young master dragged forward by the monstrous force of the Marine. Panic overtook them.
They snatched up their weapons and charged toward Darren, desperate to save Doflamingo.
They didn’t even have time to grieve the dozens of Donquixote Family members who had just been gunned down.
Time seemed to slow.
Darren's cold smile deepened as he dragged Doflamingo closer. His presence was immense, his aura deep and crushing. The "Justice" cape billowed behind him, untouched by wind, while his clenched fist crackled the air like a drawn bow.
In a blink, he closed the distance.
His fist shot out like a meteor.
Boom!!
The sheer force of the punch distorted the air itself, and the pressure alone made Doflamingo’s young face bulge.
Cracks spread across his signature sunglasses.
Terrifying power.
This Marine... he's a beast in human form!
How is someone like this even stationed in the North Blue? Shouldn't he be in the Grand Line or even the New World?
The thought flashed through Doflamingo's mind as his vision blurred, Darren's punch dominating his view.
If I take that punch head-on... I'll die!
With a roar, Doflamingo broke the threads binding them, raising his clawed hands. Dozens, then hundreds of threads exploded outward, weaving into a massive white spiderweb that stretched between buildings and the earth itself.
"Spider Web Wall: Defense!"
The fist collided with the wall of threads.
Darren didn’t flinch. No change in his stance. Just pure, relentless force.
Wind ripped around him as his fist drove forward like a collapsing mountain, wrapped in spiraling pressure.
The moment the fist struck the web, it stretched and bent — but didn't stop.
It kept surging toward Doflamingo.
The young warlord's heart nearly burst.
"Damn bastard!!!"
"I won't lose here!!"
A roar of kingly rage exploded from Doflamingo, sweeping through the town like a storm.
The sky dimmed. The world turned black and white. A wave of spiritual pressure radiated outward.
Trebol and the others stumbled mid-charge, overwhelmed.
"That’s the young master’s Conqueror’s Haki!"
"True kingly spirit!"
"He really is Doffy!!"
They struggled to remain standing as his Haki surged. A chosen one in millions.
They had sworn loyalty to him for this very reason.
But then—
Another wave erupted.
Stronger. Heavier. Deeper.
Boom!!
Their eyes widened in horror.
It was also Conqueror’s Haki.
The same kind of spirit—but colder, sharper, more commanding.
Darren.
The Marine.
A Marine with the spirit of a king.
Impossible! Diamante nearly screamed, his painted face going pale.
Two overwhelming waves of Haki collided midair.
Black-red lightning exploded. Wind tore stone from the earth, swirling into the storm.
"A clash of kings..."
Trebol whispered as he dropped to one knee, unable to stay standing.
"You... you have the same spirit as me!?"
Doflamingo howled, face twisted in disbelief.
Darren snorted. "Conqueror's Haki is rare, but not sacred. In the New World, you'd be just another one of many."
As he spoke, Darren’s muscles bulged, his uniform shredding at the sleeves.
With a roar, he let loose another punch.
Boom!!
His Haki began to overwhelm Doflamingo's.
"Why?! Why is your Haki stronger than mine!?"
Blood burst from Doflamingo’s hands as he strained to maintain control over his strings.
"I am... Donquixote Doflamingo!!"
“I’m a Celestial Dragon—”
"—I don’t give a damn. I take down Celestial Dragons for fun."
Darren's cold voice thundered as he stomped down.
The earth shattered beneath him. Shockwaves rippled in all directions.
Harnessing that force, he unleashed his full strength.
Cracks spread. The spider web wall began to strain.
Then—
Crack! Rip!
Web and buildings alike were torn from their foundations.
Darren’s fist ripped through it all.
He didn’t break the web. He tore out everything it was anchored to.
Boom!!
His fist slammed into Doflamingo’s gut.
A ring of shock erupted behind him.
Doflamingo's eyes rolled back, blood gushing from his mouth as his body bent in half.
Then he flew.
Crashed into Trebol.
Smashed through a streetlamp.
Blasted through houses, walls, everything in his path.
Until he finally embedded into a building—
Which collapsed on top of him.
---
Meanwhile, on the far side of Rubeck Island...
A Marine warship waited on the coast.
Dozens of North Blue Marines stood ready.
Groups of panicked civilians were being evacuated by orderly teams.
"Report: evacuation complete, sir. Perimeter secured."
Momonga, watching through binoculars atop a rooftop, didn’t turn.
He simply waved acknowledgement.
Then he heard the distant rumble.
Smoke curled into the sky.
He lowered his binoculars and sighed, palm to forehead.
"He really doesn't hold back, does he..."
A twitch tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Like a father beating his own son..."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 54: One Blow Each
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
BOOM...
Through the lens of his spyglass, Momonga watched as building after building collapsed in the heart of the ruined town, smoke rising like rampaging dragons across the battlefield. The ground trembled violently beneath the destruction.
His eye twitched.
Even as Darren's adjutant, Momonga still had no clear idea just how powerful the man truly was.
But from the inhuman training Darren subjected himself to every single day, one thing was certain: in all of North Blue, aside from a few infamous pirates who'd drifted in for various reasons, there was no one who could stand against him.
The powers of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit gave him wide-range offensive and control capabilities on par with Logia users.
And in close combat?
Aside from Sakazuki back when he was still stationed in North Blue, who else could ever trade fists with a monster like Darren?
Against his enemies, Darren was merciless. Once he locked onto a target, he never looked back until the fight was over.
Against himself, he was even worse.
As for Donquixote Doflamingo—that prideful, obsessive, deranged little punk?
He could only pray for mercy now. His fate was already sealed.
The civilians had been evacuated. The town was sealed off. No news would escape this island.
A former Celestial Dragon?
So what?
If he dies here in North Blue, he wouldn’t be the first.
That thought flashed through Momonga’s mind—and then he froze.
Had he just thought of a Celestial Dragon... with such disrespect?
A cold sweat broke out on his back.
He took a long breath and chuckled bitterly.
"Darren... you were right."
"Between zero and one... there really is a world of difference."
---
Rubeck Island. Town center.
BOOM...
More buildings crumbled into heaps, drowning the sky in dust.
The earth groaned beneath the weight of destruction.
Click...
A lighter sparked.
Darren stood on a ravaged battlefield, surrounded by cracked stone and ruin. He pulled out a cigar and lit it with a calm hand.
His uniform was in tatters from the fight. He clenched the cigar in his teeth and yanked open the buckle on his Marine cloak. With one smooth motion, he tore off his black tie and ripped open his uniform shirt.
Rip!
The shredded cloth fell away, revealing a muscular upper body hardened like tempered steel.
His body was covered in scars, each one earned in battle. With his wild eyes and animalistic presence, he looked like a beast barely wearing the skin of a man.
"Ah... that’s better."
He grinned.
Suddenly, a drawling, furious voice rang out:
"How... HOW DARE YOU!?"
Trebol stumbled into view, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He lifted his staff, mucus trailing from it like ropes. With a roar, he lashed out, pulling a four-meter slab of rubble with his sticky powers.
"Sticky Meteor!!"
The chunk of ruined housing spun through the air with a whistling hum.
Wind screamed as it approached. Darren’s cigar glowed red in the breeze.
He narrowed his eyes—and with a flick of his wrist, sent a pulse of magnetic force sideways.
CRACK!
Steel rods tore out from within the rubble, shredding it in half. The debris crashed down on either side of him, carving furrows into the ground.
Darren raised his hand again.
Without any command, dozens of metal rods and beams burst up from the ground like living spears. They twisted and bent, suspended in the air like hungry serpents.
Trebol's eyes widened.
Darren smiled and gestured.
Fwoosh!
The spears launched forward with a scream, faster than sound.
BOOM!!
Dust exploded.
Mucus flew in all directions.
Darren stepped forward—but staggered slightly as the earth beneath his feet began to ripple.
The ground was... fluttering?
His gaze snapped toward the source.
There, crouching low with one palm to the earth, was Diamante, dressed in his flamboyant war paint.
"Army Flag!"
The power of the Flutter-Flutter Fruit.
The ground itself became like cloth, swaying in waves and throwing Darren’s balance off. A trap to knock opponents off their feet.
At that precise moment, a shadow leapt into the air behind him.
Vergo. Stoic-faced, beefy, sunglasses reflecting the light. A smear of half-eaten steak clung to his cheek. In both hands, he clutched a thick green bamboo staff.
"Ghost Bamboo!"
He swung.
CRACK!
The steel-like bamboo shattered on Darren’s skull, splinters flying everywhere.
Virgo’s pupils shrank.
This guy’s... body...
Is he even human?
Before he could react, Darren vanished from view.
WHOOOM!
A military boot exploded into his field of vision.
BOOM!!
Virgo flew like a cannonball, crashing through a building and bringing it down in a cascade of stone.
Through the smoke and debris, Darren emerged, cigar clamped in his mouth.
A spear forged of warped metal shot forward with impossible speed—
THUD!
Diamante took the hit straight to the gut. The impact lifted him off his feet and pinned him to a wall.
Blood burst from his mouth.
His eyes filled with horror.
BOOM...!!
A nearby building exploded.
From within, a twenty-meter-tall stone golem surged forth, its body pulsing with energy.
It raised a three-meter-wide fist and brought it crashing down from above.
"You’re DEAD!!"
The voice screeched.
Pica.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author’s Note:
Thanks as always for the support—every bit means a lot to me!
I’ve noticed some ongoing discussion about Gion, so I’d like to clarify things a bit.
In this timeline, Gion is still a teenager. She grew up at Marine HQ, surrounded by high-ranking officers who doted on her. So yes—her thoughts may come across as naive or overly idealistic at times. But that’s completely intentional. She’s like a college student who hasn’t graduated yet—bright-eyed and a little dumb in that earnest, youthful way. (I’ve been that student myself, haha—it’s just a vibe.)
And she’s not the only one. Kuzan will be showing up soon, and his sense of justice at this age isn’t the laid-back “Lazy Justice” we know—it’s something fiery and intense.
This story spans a long timeline, from the era of Gol D. Roger all the way past the Summit War of Marineford. Every character will grow, change, and evolve—none of them are meant to be stuck in one mold.
All I ask is that you trust the process and give these characters room to become who they’re meant to be.
Thanks again for reading.
Chapter 55: Now Can We Talk?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rubble rained down. And Pica’s comically sharp, squeaky voice echoed through the ruined town like a bad joke from a very large man.
The massive rock giant loomed behind the Marine officer, casting a shadow that could engulf a warship. But Darren was unfazed. As if he’d been expecting it all along, he ground his boot into the earth beneath him and spun around with a sharp grin, snow-white cigar clamped between his teeth.
If it’s power you want to measure, he thought, then let’s measure it properly.
Only raw force could do justice to a brute like Pica.
Only a collision of monsters could satisfy his fists.
Darren’s punch met the rocky titan’s enormous arm mid-air, the impact so intense it rang like a bell forged in hell.
BOOM!
The air around them distorted into trembling waves, rippling like heat off scorched stone. But the clash lasted barely a second.
Cracks bloomed outward from Darren’s fist like spiderwebs over glass, rapidly spreading through Pica’s stone arm, then his shoulder, then his entire giant frame.
CRACK—BOOM!
The stone giant shattered with a thunderous roar, his hulking form bursting apart into a rain of debris. In the storm of crumbling boulders, Pica floated momentarily mid-air—stunned, dazed, and utterly disbelieving.
Then Darren appeared above him, like a specter of war descending.
Boot raised. Aura surging. The black leather sole hurtled down like a divine judgment.
CRACK!
Pica’s armored body slammed into the earth below like a meteor, the sheer impact shaking the entire town square. The crater it left caved in the ground in a hundred-meter radius, sending up a fountain of dust and rubble.
And just as that dust was still rising—
"Overheat Whip!"
A raspy voice split the air, followed by a shriek of wire slicing through wind.
A massive string lash, glowing with compressed force, lashed down from the sky like a blade of light. It slammed Darren into the broken street with enough power to split a ship in two.
The street cracked and crumbled.
Buildings collapsed in a chain reaction.
And from the distance, bloodied and barely standing, Donquixote Doflamingo crawled from the wreckage.
He gasped, watching the carnage unfold, clutching at his ribs where a crater now caved in his chest. Mud, sweat, and blood caked his golden hair. His sunglasses were cracked like eggshells. His breath came in ragged gasps.
"Did that... land?"
“Overheat Whip” was his strongest attack. A slicing whip of reinforced string that could cleave stone, steel—flesh.
Even that monster wouldn’t—
His thoughts froze.
The dust began to thin.
And through it, a silhouette emerged.
A tall figure exhaled smoke, calm and composed, as if stepping out from a dream—no, from a nightmare.
Boots.
Legs.
A blood-slick torso.
That face, sharp and unyielding.
A cigar flaring at his lips.
One of Doflamingo’s strings had dug deep into the man's chest. Blood trickled down in crimson trails. And yet—
He was still walking.
Still smiling.
"Hmph... Now that was interesting," Darren muttered, glancing down at the thick, razor-edged string stuck in his chest. He plucked it out casually, licking the blood off his finger like it was wine.
Doflamingo’s entire body froze in fear.
This man was enjoying it.
He was enjoying the pain.
"I think I’ve played enough," Darren said with a grin. He cracked his neck and flexed his legs.
BOOM!
The ground exploded behind him as he launched forward like a cannonball.
Doflamingo barely registered the blur before—
CRACK!
A fist slammed into his gut.
CRACK!
Another uppercut shattered his jaw. His feet left the ground.
Darren followed him into the air.
BAM! A kick.
THUD! A knee to the spine.
SLAM! An elbow to the ribs.
Over and over again, like a ball bouncing between walls, Doflamingo’s body was battered from every direction. Bones snapped. Blood sprayed. His eyes rolled.
From the coastline, Momonga watched through his scope—and winced.
It was like watching a grown man discipline a child.
A very violent child.
Doflamingo, the “noble-blooded” celestial dragon, was being treated like a sack of meat.
A minute passed.
Finally, one last kick sent Doflamingo plummeting into the earth.
THOOM!
The ground cracked again. Silence followed.
Darren landed softly, brushing dust from his shoulder. He adjusted his cigar and strolled through the rubble toward the broken figure.
Doflamingo was barely conscious, blood pouring from a dozen wounds, his limbs twitching.
Darren crouched and grabbed him by the head—lifting him until their eyes were level.
The sun pierced the clouds overhead, casting a pale, reddish glow across the ruins. Smoke curled between the ruined buildings like ghosts.
The towering Marine held the broken boy in one hand like a sack of flour, blood dripping onto the cracked concrete below.
He gave him a smile that wasn’t unkind—just terrifying.
“So,” he said quietly, “can we talk now?”
Then, as if remembering something, he added with a smirk:
“Ah—where are my manners?”
He blew out a puff of smoke.
“Name’s Rogers Darren. Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines. People call me the King of the North Blue…”
“…but I prefer my other title—
‘The Disgrace of the Marines.’”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Enjoying the ride so far? Leave a kudos or drop a comment!
Your support really helps me stay energized.
Bookmarks and shares mean a lot too—thank you for being here.
Chapter 56: The Great Slap
Chapter Text
Fire gives everything in the world its own scent.
A sheet of white paper doesn’t burn like a damp tree branch. The smell of roasted boar isn't far from that of roasted human flesh. But 10-year-old Donquixote Doflamingo hadn’t tasted meat in a long time.
Flames blazed before his eyes, turning the dark night sky a searing red.
Shouts, curses, shrieks, howls, hate, rage, scorn—the sound of crumbling, fire-split walls snapped him awake, as a wave of fury washed past his ears.
His eyes were blindfolded, body tied to the city wall like a criminal sentenced to death.
“It’s the Celestial Dragons!”
“Don’t kill them! Let them live through hell!”
Countless townspeople gathered beneath the fortress, screaming in hatred at the Donquixote family strung up on the wall. Rocks, rotting vegetables, rancid eggs, and all manner of garbage flew at them like a torrential storm.
Doflamingo felt something wet and sticky splatter against his cheek and slide downward.
He heard his father weeping.
How ironic... Father.
You gave up your divine birthright as a Celestial Dragon, thinking it would show mercy and compassion. You believed you could live peacefully among the commoners.
But did you see what they really are?
No, your eyes are blindfolded too. You can't see—but you can hear them, can't you?
Their greedy panting. Their savage laughter. Their frenzied hunger.
Father!! These are the people you wanted to embrace!!
Did they thank you?
No!!
All they saw was a god fallen from his throne.
This is the essence of humanity. Their stupidity. Their wretched nature.
Who could resist the urge to trample a god in the dirt?
They wanted to spit on him. To stomp him into the ground.
Are you crying?
...What use is crying now?
Doflamingo wanted to laugh.
Flames licked higher. The burning heat seared the walls.
He smelled roasted flesh.
His feet were nearly cooked.
The jeers went on.
Rotten garbage rained from every direction.
Two streaks of blood-tears slid from beneath his blindfold. Hearing the endless hatred, he couldn’t help but burst into mad laughter.
“hehahaha!!”
He clenched his fists.
“Remember this, all of you...”
“I’m not going to die...”
A bloody grin stretched across his beaten face.
That was his pride.
The crowd flinched.
Torturing a Celestial Dragon had been thrilling—but deep inside, they were still afraid.
“No matter what you do to me... I’ll survive!!”
Doflamingo raised his head. Though tied up, his contemptuous gaze looked down upon them all.
They might watch him burn alive. But they’d never see him beg.
He was a Celestial Dragon.
The greatest beings in the world!
Inside, Doflamingo screamed in fury. His grin widened with defiance.
“And I’ll kill you all.”
“Every last one.”
---
Scene shift.
A filthy room, full of garbage and broken furniture.
Flies buzzed. Sunlight couldn’t reach into the damp, moldy walls.
A hand, clutching his own, slowly went limp.
Doflamingo stared at his unmoving mother. His eyes lost focus.
Rosinante sobbed beside him.
“I’m sorry, Doffy.”
His father sat by the bedside, red-eyed, gaunt, and hollow.
“Sorry?”
Doflamingo suddenly laughed.
Laughed like a madman.
Tears flowed from his eyes.
“It’s all your fault, ... all your fault!!”
He laughed hysterically and drew a pistol.
Aimed it at his own father.
“If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have died.”
“If it weren’t for you, we’d still be living happily.”
“If it weren’t for you, I’d still be a Celestial Dragon!!”
Donquixote Homing looked terrified at first, then gave a gentle, resigned smile.
Bang.
A gunshot.
The Celestial Dragon fell. Blood pooled.
“I’m sorry, Doffy...”
He whispered.
Through his blurry, blood-soaked vision,
He saw his own son—laughing and crying.
---
Another flash.
Under a sky filled with silence and pressure,
A golden-haired child climbed the sacred Heavenly Staircase, carrying a blood-dripping head.
His father’s face, still warm with a soft smile.
He reached the top. There stood five old men, looking down like gods.
‘This should be my life,’ Doflamingo told himself.
He held up his father’s head.
“I want to be a Celestial Dragon again.”
But the five elders sneered.
“The Donquixote family are traitors.”
“You are not welcome in the Holy Land.”
“Get out.”
“You are no longer a Celestial Dragon.”
“And clean up the stairs.”
---
Doflamingo did clean the stairs.
Then boarded a merchant ship and fled to the North Blue like a stray dog.
Some thugs found him.
They knelt before him.
“Listen, Doffy. You are a king.”
“No one is allowed to defy you.”
“One day, you’ll rule these seas.”
Yes. I am a king.
One day, I will rule the seas.
“I am Donquixote Doflamingo! I will be king of this sea!”
“The World Government, the Gorosei, the Celestial Dragons—I will destroy it all!!”
“I will—”
SMACK!
A sharp slap snapped Doflamingo awake.
His face burned.
No—his whole body burned.
He blinked, dazed.
“Sorry to interrupt your dreams,” came a low voice, “But you were getting loud.”
Doflamingo looked up and saw a black-haired Marine, legs crossed, smoking a lit cigar, shrugging casually.
Rogers Darren.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 57: Doffy's Discipline Plan
Chapter Text
Doflamingo's pupils shrank. His heart pounded wildly.
It was him...
That Marine.
The Supreme Commander of the North Blue—Rogers Darren.
His mind involuntarily replayed the brutal memory from not long ago: this man, like a rampaging beast, crushed the entire Donquixote Pirates into the ground. Just the thought sent an icy chill crawling up his spine.
"No need to tense up. I don't mean any harm."
Darren lounged comfortably on the couch, legs crossed, puffing on his cigar.
He could see the hidden fear flickering in Doflamingo's eyes, and the corner of his mouth curled up into a faint smirk.
Yep. Some kids don’t learn until you beat the lesson into them.
"Don’t give me that 'no harm' crap!" Doflamingo felt as if a knife had pierced his chest at those words. Bloodshot eyes locked onto Darren as he growled through gritted teeth.
"What do you want from me?"
His gaze swept across the room.
They were in a dimly lit hall. Oil lamps on the walls cast flickering shadows across the gray and peeling plaster. The doors weren’t even closed—beyond them lay a decrepit courtyard. Moldy plaster flaked from the archway, revealing damp stone underneath.
On the far end of the room, Trebol, Diamante, Vergo, and Pica lay unconscious, crudely bandaged and unmoving in the corners.
Seeing that his top officers were at least alive, Doflamingo exhaled quietly, raising his battered face with a defiant glare.
"Why didn’t you just kill me?" he spat. "I'm a pirate. You're a Marine. Isn’t killing pirates supposed to be your proudest duty?"
"Kill you? Nah," Darren waved him off with mock weariness. "I told you already. I want to talk. You attacked first. I just defended myself."
Doflamingo nearly coughed up blood.
"You’re messing with me!"
Veins bulged on his temple as he roared in fury.
If he wasn’t in so much pain—his whole body slick with cold sweat—he would've gone another round with this bastard even knowing he'd lose.
"Believe what you want," Darren shrugged. "And as for all that 'Marines stand for justice, pirates are evil' nonsense... that's outdated."
He looked at the pale-faced boy in front of him, who wore an expression far too old for his years.
"I'm the 'Disgrace of the Marines.' Justice, evil, neutrality—none of that matters to me."
"The world has always obeyed one fundamental truth," he said, leaning forward with a devilish grin.
"Justice prevails? Of course it does..."
"Because winners write justice."
The words rang like a thunderclap.
Doflamingo went rigid. Staring into those wild, ambitious eyes, he found himself instinctively flinching—then caught himself, biting down hard and straightening his spine.
"So what? Even if you're a disgrace, you’re still a Marine. That won’t change."
"Kill me if you want. The weak don’t get to choose how they die."
His lips curled into a vicious grin.
Darren smiled with satisfaction.
Now that... is raw potential.
He eyed the golden-haired boy with newfound appreciation. Twelve, maybe thirteen years old, and already filled with the hunger to destroy.
He couldn’t help but compare him to a certain rubber-headed protagonist.
What was Luffy doing at twelve?
Probably still playing pirate with Ace and Sabo.
Meanwhile, Doflamingo had already gathered a loyal, powerful crew and carved out territory in the chaos of the North Blue.
Insane talent. A terrifying Devil Fruit. Natural charisma. Celestial Dragon lineage.
If guided correctly, and pushed in the right direction, Doflamingo could become a very valuable card in his deck.
Right now, he was like a shooting star—blazing, brilliant.
All Darren had to do was give him a push.
He had no intention of giving up his status as a Marine. His personal fleet was growing by the day. Once he joined the officer training program, he'd have access to even more resources.
Power, influence, loyal troops—things no pirate could offer.
The Saint Schild incident had been a close call. He'd smoothed it over, but it had shaken him.
He couldn't rely on the system alone.
Zephyr, after all, was the perfect example. A life of loyalty to justice, only to be betrayed by his own students.
No. He needed an ace outside the system. Something the World Government and even Marine HQ would fear.
And right now, the answer was right in front of him.
A twelve-year-old Doflamingo.
Still undeveloped. Still impressionable.
If this had been the future warlord, king of Dressrosa? Darren wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.
But this Doflamingo could be shaped.
He could be trained.
Darren’s smile turned slow, calculated.
It sent a chill down Doflamingo’s spine.
He knew that smile.
The look a child gave a new toy.
He shivered.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 58: True Strength Never Complains
Chapter Text
The broken wall lamps flickered with a dim glow, casting long shadows across the crumbling hall.
To the young Doflamingo, the marine seated on the couch—legs crossed, cigar smoldering in his mouth—appeared half-drenched in light, the other half lost to shadow. His smile was unreadable.
"I bring good news," Darren said with a smile. "You won't die today. Neither will your subordinates. In fact, you'll live better than anyone else."
"All I ask is a little chat."
Doflamingo blinked.
Was this guy serious?
"What do you want to talk about?" he rasped, his voice rough under the bandages. Living was better than dying, after all.
Seeing him cooperate, Darren grinned with satisfaction.
"Tell me—what is your ambition?"
"You possess Conqueror's Haki, you're a 'noble' Celestial Dragon, and yet here you are in this rotten corner of the North Blue. What is it you're after?"
"And don't lie to me. I want the truth."
The marine's sharp gaze bored into the bloodied boy. To raise a wolf, you had to awaken its thirst for flesh.
Come on, Doflamingo.
Memories flickered through Doflamingo's mind: fire, screams, curses, hospital beds, corpses, a gunshot, a severed head, the Celestial Staircase...
"Listen well, Doffy... You are a king."
All those memories condensed into a single emotion—hatred.
He snapped his head up and met Darren's gaze, his voice a growl:
"I want to destroy this world."
Smack!
Darren's slap sent him flying across the room.
Doflamingo smashed into the wall, leaving a dent. Dust and plaster rained down as his cheek swelled visibly.
He stared at Darren in disbelief.
"What the hell was that for?!"
The marine looked down at him with utter disdain.
"Disappointing," Darren said flatly. "I expected something more impressive."
"Destroy the world? What a boring answer. The world hasn't done anything to you."
"You know nothing!" Doflamingo roared, bloodshot eyes wide.
He staggered to his feet, every movement reopening wounds. The heat, the flames, the faces twisted in hatred—all of it surged back.
"I was meant to live in paradise! I belonged above the clouds, looking down on the world!"
"But thanks to my father's idiocy, I fell straight into hell!!"
"Those filthy commoners—those worms—hung us like animals on a wall! They burned us! Shot us! Pelted us with stones!"
"They wanted me to die... but I survived!"
He let out a twisted laugh.
"I'm still alive!"
But Darren didn't flinch.
His face held only scorn.
"That’s it?" he said.
Doflamingo froze.
That’s it?
His tortured past—his living hell—was dismissed like it meant nothing?
"Isn't that enough?!" Doflamingo shrieked. "I lost everything! I had to dig through trash to survive!"
"No one else has suffered like I have!"
"Are you done?" Darren interrupted coldly.
He approached slowly, towering over the young pirate. A shadow swallowed Doflamingo whole.
"You think you're unique? That no one has had it worse than you?"
Darren sneered.
"I've seen plenty of miserable lives. Every day, gunfire echoes across the North Blue. Corpses rot on the shores."
"People sell out their own brothers for money. Offer up their wives for power. Saw off their own legs just to stay alive."
"And none of them whine like you."
"What are you, five? Three? Why don't you run home and cry to your mommy?"
Darren's contempt was razor-sharp.
"Strong men don’t complain. Even the poorest commoners do better than you."
Doflamingo clenched his fists. His teeth ground together.
"My mother died of illness."
"Lucky her," Darren spat. "At least she didn’t have to listen to you whine. I bet she died from your endless moaning."
Doflamingo stood frozen, stunned.
His face burned as if he'd been slapped again.
"You bastard!"
He lunged, trying to activate his strings—
Wham!
Darren's punch landed square in his gut.
Doflamingo bent double, smashed back into the wall, blood spurting from his mouth.
Darren grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up.
"I've never seen a real winner who wastes time crying about how unfair life is."
"And you? You think you're going to destroy the world with that kind of attitude?"
Doflamingo trembled with rage, but Darren only narrowed his eyes.
Almost there.
The heat was just right.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 59: A Devil’s Whisper
Chapter Text
"You blamed your father for everything, but what did you do?"
Darren’s voice was sharp and cutting, full of ridicule.
Staring at the blond boy, blood still trickling from his lips and his face contorted with rage, Darren’s half-lidded eyes glittered with amusement.
Come on. Say it.
Let it out.
Your deepest hatred. Your darkest resentment.
Doflamingo’s fists clenched tightly, his teeth grinding.
What did I do…?
What did I do?
Suddenly, he snapped—his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse with fury:
"I killed that foolish father of mine!!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, it was like a dam had broken inside him. His face twisted with a crazed grin he could no longer suppress.
"Hehhahaha!!"
He burst into mad laughter.
"You’d never guess how good it felt..."
"If it weren’t for him, I never would've suffered so much. So much misery."
"I didn't sit around whining... I took action!"
"I was born a king!!"
"Fufufu…"
His eyes locked with Darren’s, full of obsession and triumph.
"You should’ve seen his eyes—the despair. When I pointed the gun at him… oh, the look on his face! Hehahaha!!"
Doflamingo laughed like a man unhinged, yet tears—red as blood—spilled from the corners of his eyes as he howled:
"I swore I’d take back everything that was mine!"
"I've had enough of crawling through hell! I was born a god, meant to stand above this miserable world—why should I wallow in its filth!?"
"Even as he was dying, he apologized… but what good is that!? Sorry doesn’t change anything!"
"But if he’s dead? That changes everything."
"So I pulled the trigger."
"I cut off his head, dripping with blood… and I carried it all the way back to Mary Geoise. I wanted him to see—I wanted him to witness me reclaiming my rightful life as a Celestial Dragon!!"
Clap clap clap…
The sudden sound of applause echoed harshly through the dim hall.
Doflamingo froze. Darren was clapping, a mocking grin playing on his lips.
"I see. What a touching story—a foolish father, a gentle mother, and a rebellious son. Let me guess—does the story end with the son killing his father, proving himself, and reclaiming everything he’d lost?"
Doflamingo looked stunned, as though struck by lightning.
Darren chuckled.
Almost there. You're about to break.
Feel that despair.
He crouched slightly, ruffling the boy’s blond hair with a twisted smile.
"So, tell me, Doflamingo... did you get everything you wanted?"
"You killed your beloved father, even decapitated him… surely the World Government rewarded you for your efforts?"
Doflamingo stood frozen, lips parted but speechless.
Darren leaned in, his voice soft and dripping with cruel amusement.
"I bet you imagined it all, didn’t you? Your grand return to Mary Geoise… banners raised in your honor, trumpets sounding in celebration, a magnificent stage set just for you."
He made a dramatic gesture, his tone low and magnetic.
"You dreamed of ascending the Celestial Staircase, one step at a time, beneath the gaze of the world."
"You dreamed of the Gorosei draping royal finery over your shoulders."
"You dreamed of being hailed once more as a god."
Each word fell like cold nails, piercing Doflamingo’s chest. A dagger to his pride.
"That way, you could prove your father wrong."
"That way, you could justify patricide—ease the guilt gnawing at your heart."
"But none of that happened."
"You bet everything. You bore the weight of guilt, only to be met with scorn and mockery."
"No triumph. No applause. No return to paradise."
"You strutted into Mary Geoise with your trophy, only to be cast out like a mongrel."
"I even heard you knelt at the foot of the Celestial Staircase… cleaning off the bloodstains yourself…"
"—Shut up!!!"
Doflamingo exploded, his eyes bulging with fury, veins bulging across his forehead.
"Don't say another word!!"
His voice cracked, rage and anguish twisting his features. His eyes burned with hatred, ready to set the world ablaze.
"That's why I’m going to destroy this world!!!"
Perfect. The fire’s ready.
Easier than expected—but then again, he’s just twelve.
Now that the beast’s gone mad with hunger, it’s time to give it something to sink its teeth into.
Darren’s eyes gleamed, his smile curling.
"No, no… you’re aiming in the wrong direction."
He leaned closer, whispering in Doflamingo’s ear like a devil in the dark.
"You’re a born king. Shouldn’t a king aim higher than slaughtering powerless peasants?"
"Crushing the weak? That’s beneath you."
"Think, Doflamingo. Who really brought you to this lowly place?"
"Was it your father? Maybe. But he’s already dead."
"Was it the commoners who tormented you? They’re gone too."
"Then who truly made you kneel like a dog, scrubbing blood from the Celestial Staircase…?"
"Who deserves your true vengeance?"
"Now imagine this—just for a moment—imagine kneeling them down before you, begging for mercy. Who would it be?"
His voice was dark, smooth, hypnotic—a devil’s lullaby.
Doflamingo froze.
His crimson eyes quivered. His face twisted. His mind raced.
And then Darren delivered the final push:
"Tell me, Doflamingo… who do you most want to become?"
Doflamingo trembled violently.
One second…
Two seconds…
Three…
Then, under Darren’s satisfied gaze,
Like a ravenous beast finally unleashed—
Doflamingo’s red eyes burned with hatred as he roared:
"THE WORLD GOVERNMENT… THE GOROSEI!!!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 60: My Godson
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Hatred is a strange thing.
It simmers with rage over injustice, burns with a desire to destroy, and refuses to fade with time or distance. Once planted, the seed of hatred cannot be removed. It grows, roots deep within, and blossoms into something that shapes an entire life.
And now—the seed had taken root.
What kind of twisted bloom would it become in the heart of this young Celestial Dragon?
Darren could only look on with anticipation.
"Good. You've finally seen the truth," Darren said, stepping back. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he looked at the golden-haired boy before him.
"Now, let's talk about how you're going to achieve that goal."
Doflamingo blinked, pulled from the storm in his mind. "You're going to help me?"
"Of course. Who in North Blue doesn't know I'm a helpful sort of Marine?" Darren said with a grin, lighting another cigar.
Doflamingo stared at the man seated comfortably on the ruined sofa. After a pause, he rasped, "Give me one too."
Darren raised a brow, surprised, but he didn't say no. He tossed one over.
Doflamingo caught it and, with practiced ease, used his String-String powers to clip the end, lit it, and took a deep drag. The sight made Darren twitch.
...This kid's a seasoned smoker already?
Twelve years old, sitting there puffing a cigar like a crime boss—something about the image just felt wrong.
"Why are you helping me?" Doflamingo finally asked, smoke curling from his lips. His voice was calm again, eyes hidden behind cracked lenses.
"Told you, I'm not your average Marine," Darren shrugged.
"If you want a reason, it's simple: I can't stand the World Government or the Celestial Dragons."
"Marines might be their guard dogs, but I don't do collars."
"They think they're gods, born above all. But me? I refuse to be anyone's puppet."
Doflamingo squinted, then let out a mocking laugh. "Fufufu... I see now."
"You want to use me, make me your pawn to strike back at the World Government. And you think I'd trust you that easily?"
Darren chuckled. "Trust has nothing to do with it. Only profit."
"We share a common enemy."
"Fufufu... A common enemy? That's rich, Darren," Doflamingo sneered. "If the Celestial Dragons are your enemy, go after them yourself."
"All I see is a coward hiding in the shadows, trying to spark someone else's hatred."
"If you really want to impress me, if you want me to play along, show me something. Kill a real Celestial Dragon. Not someone like me, someone who's already been stripped of their rights."
"Do that, and maybe—just maybe—I'll recognize you as my godfather."
Darren raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want to make that bet?"
There was something in his grin that made Doflamingo's stomach twist. But he didn't back down.
"I'm sure."
He's bluffing. No one has the guts to actually kill a Celestial Dragon. Especially not someone like Darren.
He might be powerful, but he's just another greedy, power-hungry officer clinging to his uniform.
Darren leaned forward, his grin widening. "You said it."
"Funny thing about being a father," he added. "It's a dangerous job."
"But lucky for you..."
He reached into his coat and tossed something onto the ground.
Doflamingo's eyes narrowed—then bulged in disbelief.
A chip. No, not just any chip.
A Celestial Dragon Identification Chip.
His breath caught in his throat. Ice flooded his veins. Every nerve screamed.
He knew what that was.
Every Celestial Dragon carried a proof-of-status chip, a symbol of their rank and right to protection by the World Government. They were irreplaceable. They could not be forged.
And Darren had one.
It can't be...
Darren's voice echoed calmly through the chamber.
"A few days ago, Saint Shaldes of the Celestial Dragons suffered an unfortunate accident in North Blue. His official ship was destroyed in an instant. No witnesses. No clues. Even the surveillance Den Den Mushi caught nothing."
"The conclusion? A tragic encounter with a Sea King."
He smiled. "Or at least, that's what the report says."
That chip came from the corpse of Shaldes.
Doflamingo stared, stunned. His legs threatened to give out.
This man—this lunatic—had actually done it.
He killed a Celestial Dragon. And lived to tell about it.
Darren leaned in again, eyes gleaming.
"Do you understand now, Doflamingo?"
"I can give you everything. Power. Territory. Wealth. Protection. Influence."
"But understand this... North Blue is my territory. And my rules are the law."
"No one makes trouble here without my permission. Not even the Celestial Dragons."
He exhaled a long stream of smoke into Doflamingo's face.
"Stick with me, and the Marines are mine."
He jabbed a finger against the boy's forehead.
"And the underworld of North Blue... is yours."
Then, in the stunned silence that followed, Darren reached out and ruffled the boy's blond hair.
The flickering lamp threw strange shadows over his face.
He smiled.
"Welcome to North Blue, my godson."
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author’s Note:
The Celestial Dragon ID chip does exist in canon, though it's only briefly mentioned.
---
Translator’s Note:
Technically… Darren is only 19, and Doflamingo is 12.
So yes, a teenager just adopted another teenager as his godson.
Call it “Classic North Blue chaos”
Chapter 61: The North Blue Underworld Is Ours Now
Chapter Text
As Darren stepped out of the dimly lit hall, he lit another cigar and stretched with a satisfied sigh.
The crumbling courtyard around him was shrouded in brittle ivy and littered with the rubble of a collapsed fountain. Under the cold moonlight, everything appeared bleak and still.
From the shadow of a wall, a silent figure emerged. Momonga had been standing motionless for over an hour—so still he seemed to blend into the very architecture, a statue carved of discipline and vigilance.
"You’ve had a long watch," Darren said with a smile. A rare warmth passed through him.
The North Blue was a dangerous place. He remembered well what it had been like when he first crossed into this world—chaos ran rampant. Mafia families waged war in broad daylight, frightened civilians cowered in alleyways, and nobles toasted wine in palaces built on the backs of the desperate.
Trust was a rare currency. Everyone plotted, flattered, and betrayed. Darren’s rise to power had been paved with blood, and even now, having reached a position where he could command the whole sea, he lived each day cautiously.
In a place like this, having someone trustworthy like Momonga by his side was a luxury.
Momonga stepped forward with a dry smile. “You sure went hard on him. He’s just a twelve-year-old kid.”
“I’ve said it before,” Darren replied, spreading his arms. “Even a young wolf can tear out a man’s throat.”
“He’s the kind of kid who killed his own father at ten and awakened Conqueror’s Haki.”
Momonga fell silent.
His eyes drifted to the chip Darren twirled between his fingers. His expression darkened as he glanced back toward the eerie hall. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll stab you in the back one day?”
Darren chuckled. “He won’t. No evidence. No one would believe him. And besides, I’m his godfather now.”
Momonga rolled his eyes.
He knew Darren’s personality well. The ambitious Commander of the North Blue was a man who craved the tightrope, the thrill of danger. He lived for moments where a single misstep meant death.
“That reminds me—has the situation been contained?”
Momonga nodded. “The perimeter was secured, and the civilians were fully evacuated. Even the Marine forces who came with us don’t know what really happened. As far as they’re concerned, this was a routine pirate suppression.”
“Good,” Darren said with a grin. “Let’s keep it under wraps as long as we can.”
“We should be heading back. If I’m not mistaken, we have an appointment with Vinsmoke Judge tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Momonga confirmed. “Germa’s first batch of tech weapons is ready. They want your personal approval before field testing.”
Darren nodded and stepped forward.
The cloak bearing the word "Justice" billowed behind him in the night breeze.
“Then it begins. The North Blue Fleet project… officially starts now.”
His eyes, under the moonlit sky, shone brighter than any star.
———
Inside the desolate manor hall, moonlight spilled through dusty glass panes, casting a silver glow over Doflamingo.
The boy sat on a worn sofa, a burnt-out cigar between his fingers. His head leaned back, gaze lost in the shadowed ceiling above.
“Doffy…?”
“Boss…?”
It was some time before Trebol and the others stirred back to consciousness.
Pale and still heavily wounded, they scanned the area nervously before breathing sighs of relief.
“Doffy… how the hell did we get back here?” Trebol asked hoarsely.
“This… is the old Mignon safehouse,” Diamante whispered, supporting himself against the wall.
Doflamingo didn’t look at them. “I don’t know. I was already here when I woke up.”
He paused.
“But I’m guessing Rogers Darren brought us back.”
His words struck the group like lightning.
Only a handful of people knew of this secret hideout. If Darren had transported them here while they were unconscious, it meant only one thing:
He had eyes on them long before they even realized it.
The chill that followed wasn’t from their injuries—it was the realization that they’d been prey under a hunter’s gaze all along.
“What do we do now, boss?” Diamante asked, unease thick in his voice.
They had known triumph. But this… this was crushing defeat.
Doflamingo finally sat up, his eyes refocusing.
He looked around at the people he had left—his only family now.
He smiled. Bitterly.
So that’s why you spared them, huh…? So I wouldn’t have a reason to break.
In your eyes, all I’ve done is child’s play.
“Don’t worry,” he finally said.
He rose to his feet.
“The North Blue underworld…”
His lips curled into a dark grin.
“…is ours now.”
The others looked at him in shock.
And then came the laughter.
A low chuckle.
“Hihihihi…”
Growing louder.
“Heh heh… HAHAHAHA!!”
“I, Donquixote Doflamingo, now have a godfather—Rogers Darren!”
The laughter echoed off the manor walls, growing more twisted, more manic.
And far above them, in the cold moonlight, a shadow passed across the glass dome.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 62: The Meeting
Chapter Text
The next day.
North Blue, waters near an independent island.
The sky was clear, and the sea shone a pristine blue.
White seagulls soared freely through the cloudless skies, gliding toward the distant horizon.
A Marine warship slowly cruised across the waters, leaving a long white wake in its trail.
"How much longer until we arrive?"
Standing at the bow of the ship with arms crossed and a lit cigar clenched between his teeth, Darren spoke. Behind him, his pristine white Marine cape fluttered in the wind.
"About a few minutes to the rendezvous point," came the reply.
Standing beside him, Momonga held an Eternal Log Pose in his hand, guiding their heading.
"Germa 66’s movements have always been erratic. As a mobile military nation dubbed the 'Army of Evil,' they don’t have fixed territory."
Darren nodded and turned his head toward the far side of the deck, where two figures trained relentlessly, drenched in sweat. A faint smile crept onto his face.
Noticing his gaze, Momonga sighed with a wry smile.
"Lieutenant Commanders Gion and Tokikake seem to be pushing themselves hard. Ever since the incident with the Celestial Dragon, they’ve been training like mad."
"It’s for the best. At least it’s been quiet around here lately," Darren said coolly.
The Celestial Dragon affair had hit the two prodigies from Marine Headquarters hard. The impotence of the Marines, the despair in the face of authority, and the guilt of being complicit—any one of these could shatter a Marine’s belief in justice.
In the original timeline, Aokiji (Kuzan) was a perfect example during the Ohara incident—from the burning justice to a lazy one, a transformation rooted in disillusionment.
"Maybe you should talk to them?" Momonga suggested cautiously, clearly hesitant.
He had seen Darren’s knack for breaking down people with his insight into human nature. No one saw through others quite like he did.
"I’ll leave lecturing to Sengoku. I’m not here to raise kids."
Darren’s eyes left the pair. His voice remained calm. "If they can’t make it past this hurdle, maybe they were never meant to be Marines."
Momonga sighed. Darren was always brutally perceptive—so much so that it could feel cold.
"We’re here."
Darren’s deep voice snapped Momonga out of his thoughts. He looked up.
In the distance, through the sea mist, massive shadows began to emerge.
Dozens of massive warships, pulled by giant snails, plowed through the waves, leaving wide, churning trails.
The Germa 66 war flag waved atop the largest battleship. At its center flew the proud cross-hawk sigil of the Vinsmoke family.
With a single command, the entire fleet began assembling. Tracks and gears connected, forming a singular mobile fortress.
Germa 66.
"Impressive as ever… no wonder the world fears the War Nation."
Momonga’s eyes gleamed with awe.
Darren nodded.
Though he had bested Germa 66 in the past, it had been due to his Devil Fruit’s direct advantage against their tech. Germa was anything but weak. Their military strength ranked among the world’s top powers.
Advanced weapons, combat suits, clone soldiers, modular territory—along with the rare ability to traverse the Red Line…
If Darren could acquire their military technology and apply it to his growing North Blue fleet, he’d be unstoppable. His forces would breach into the Grand Line—or even the New World—without resistance.
Of course, his ambitions stretched beyond technology.
"Prepare for boarding."
His voice was calm, but his eyes shimmered with depth.
Momonga raised his hand in signal. Marines on deck moved into position with precision.
The helm turned, steering their vessel smoothly into Germa’s mobile port.
Gion and Tokikake finished their training and quickly readjusted their uniforms, moving to the front lines of the formation.
Their eyes drifted to Darren’s towering figure. Guilt clouded their expressions.
Ever since Admiral Sengoku had left Batiya Island, they had avoided Darren like the plague, unable to face him.
Then—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A sudden burst of cannon fire snapped both officers out of their thoughts.
"Artillery!?"
Tokikake instinctively stepped forward, shielding Gion with his body. "Don’t worry, Gion! I’ll protect you!"
He struck a valiant pose, ready to strike a dashing figure—only to realize all the other Marines were looking at him like he was an idiot.
He blinked.
Brilliant fireworks burst into the air, painting the sky with dazzling color.
Light sparkled across his dumbfounded face, making him look like a clown.
...Ceremonial salutes.
Tokikake gaped, speechless.
"Relax, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake."
Darren chuckled, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder before stepping down from the ship.
On Germa’s metallic soil, rows of ceremonial salutes erupted, coloring the sky with celebration and peace.
"Hahaha! Welcome, Captain Darren. Your presence is an honor to all of Germa 66."
Striding out from a phalanx of elite troops, Vinsmoke Judge wore his formal robes and golden mane proudly, beaming as he extended his hand.
"The honor is mine. Germa’s grandeur never fails to stir the blood, no matter how many times I witness it."
Darren smiled as they clasped hands firmly.
Behind them, Gion and Tokikake watched with twitching expressions.
To think the two men laughing before them had nearly brought Germa to the brink of destruction not long ago…
If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, they’d think these two were long-lost brothers.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 63: You Can’t Test Power Like That
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Germa Kingdom.
Training grounds.
All unrelated personnel had been cleared out. Cloned soldiers of Germa 66 formed a perimeter, standing as motionless as statues, their eyes void of emotion.
In the center of the field stood the top brass of the North Blue Marines, led by Captain Rogers Darren, observing as Germa troops hauled in massive sealed crates, setting them down in formation.
"As per our agreement, this is the first batch of military tech you requested," Vinsmoke Judge said coolly, casting a sideways glance at Darren.
"Though just prototypes, the systems are stable. Once you approve, mass production can begin at any time."
He added with a hint of warning, "But I must remind you—advanced weaponry doesn’t come cheap."
Darren lit a cigar, smiling as he waved his hand. "Money’s not the issue. Open them up."
Judge motioned, and Germa soldiers stepped forward, tearing open seals and lifting the lids. Darren and the others peered inside.
Neatly arranged within straw-padded crates were all kinds of unfamiliar weapons, their sleek designs far from the clunky artillery of standard navies.
Judge picked up a slim-barreled cannon with a cylindrical nozzle. "This is a flamethrower. Emits a 300-degree flame with a 30-meter range. Can sustain fire for fifteen minutes before refueling."
He glanced at Darren. "Want a demonstration?"
Darren gestured with an inviting hand. "Be my guest."
"Step forward."
A cloned soldier emerged from the ranks and positioned himself in the center of the field, hands behind his back, standing like a pillar of stone.
Gion and Tokikake exchanged uneasy glances.
He's not seriously going to test this on his own troops?
Without hesitation, Judge raised the weapon and fired.
FWOOOSH!
A pillar of flame surged forward, engulfing the soldier entirely. No scream, no flinch—just a blazing silhouette. Within five seconds, the figure collapsed, charred beyond recognition.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Tokikake went pale. Gion fought back a wave of nausea.
Judge turned with pride. "Satisfied?"
Darren frowned. "Three hundred degrees, huh?"
In this world, fire rarely exceeded 900 degrees, due to the limits of available fuel. Even the famed Mera Mera no Mi couldn’t surpass that. Magma, of course, was on another level.
"Mediocre range. Slow fire rate. Needs constant refueling. And as for actual damage..."
He shook his head. "This isn't how you test a weapon's real power."
Judge's brow twitched. "Oh?"
"You know how to build weapons. I know how to use them."
Darren tossed aside his coat and tie, stripped off his uniform top, revealing a torso crisscrossed with battle scars.
Gion and Tokikake gawked.
No way. He’s not going to—
Momonga facepalmed.
Darren cracked his neck, a twisted grin spreading. "Try it on me."
Judge blinked. "Are you serious?"
Tokikake leapt forward. "Hey now, that flame’s 300 degrees! If you get roasted alive, the North Blue post might fall to me—wait, forget I said that!"
Darren raised an eyebrow. "You’re right. Better not risk it. How about we test it on our brilliant Tokikake instead?"
He reached toward him.
"N-no thanks! You go ahead!"
Darren chuckled, then looked back at Judge, serious again. "I meant it."
His body was trained to withstand bullets and small explosives. A 300-degree flame was intense, but not fatal—not to him.
"My fleet won’t just fight in the North Blue. If I want it to rival New World forces, our weapons have to measure up."
Judge hesitated, then fired.
FWOOOSH!
Flames swallowed Darren.
Everyone stared, mouths agape, as the man stood firm in the inferno, unmoving.
The firestorm whipped around him, casting long shadows.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t flinch.
He just stood there—burning, but unbroken.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
While the fic describes the flamethrower as capable of sustaining fire for 15 minutes, this is a significant exaggeration by real-world standards. In reality, most portable flamethrowers—such as those used in WWII—could only fire for about 7 to 15 seconds per fuel tank. However, that brief burst was more than enough to kill or incapacitate multiple enemies in enclosed spaces.
Beyond the physical destruction, the psychological impact of flamethrowers was immense. The fear of being burned alive often caused panic, surrender, or retreat—making the weapon as much a tool of terror as of war.
Of course, in the world of One Piece, where physical laws are often bent, a 15-minute flamethrower might just be par for the course.
Chapter 64: My Child, Forgive Me
Chapter Text
Crackling flames roared.
From afar, Darren's upper body looked like a ball of fire, engulfed in swirling, scorching flames that distorted the very air around him. The sight made Gion and the others flinch involuntarily.
Only after a full minute did Vinsmoke Judge slowly lower the flamethrower. Unbeknownst to him, a thin sheen of cold sweat had already formed across his forehead.
Smoke rolled across the training field.
Gulp.
Tokikake swallowed nervously, lowering his voice toward Momonga. "Hey... you don't think that guy actually burned to death, do you?"
Momonga rolled his eyes with a sigh.
Just then, a calm voice echoed from the smoke:
"Hmm. The output's decent."
A gust of wind swept the smoke away, revealing Darren standing tall amidst scorched earth, inspecting the ash-blackened skin on his torso.
Though his upper body bore visible burn marks, his expression remained unfazed.
At least, for him, it was nothing.
"The flamethrower passes."
Darren dusted off some ash, grinning toward Judge. "Next."
His gaze shifted toward Tokikake and the others.
"Don’t just stand there. You're here to work, too. No time to waste."
---
Thus began one of the most horrifying field tests in the history of weapons development.
Flamethrowers.
High-voltage electroguns.
Portable rocket launchers.
Rotating sawblades.
Multi-barrel machine guns...
Every kind of cutting-edge Jerma 66 tech unleashed its destructive power on one man—Marine Captain Darren.
The training ground echoed with one boom after another, shrill shears of spinning metal, and intermittent explosions. Occasionally, Tokikake's smug laughter floated through the chaos.
From Vinsmoke Judge to the lowest foot soldier, the gathered Jerma staff went from stunned disbelief to numb resignation.
Half an hour later, Tokikake and the others dropped their weapons, exhausted, collapsing on the ground with heaving breaths.
They stared at Darren as if he were some demonic beast.
"...Monster," Judge muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Darren sat atop a weapons crate, calmly puffing on a cigar while a Marine medic cleaned and bandaged the burns on his body.
"Not bad. We'll go with the weapons we tested just now. Fifty percent down payment; remaining half upon delivery."
"Understood," Judge said hoarsely, fully aware now of the terrifying creature before him.
Once treated, Darren rose, slipping back into his uniform with Momonga's help and donning his pristine white coat of justice. He approached Judge and lowered his voice:
"As for the warship modifications..."
Judge frowned.
"Your specs are extreme. Replacing the keel with metal will at least double the ship’s weight. That kind of load... the draft would be a serious issue."
Darren waved him off. "Forget the draft. That’s not your concern."
His eyes shimmered with a dangerous, almost maniacal glint.
"I need the ship's core structure built from lightweight alloys."
Judge mulled over it. "If it's like that, we can mix in some of the alloys we use for combat suits. It won’t affect too much. But the cost—"
He glanced at Darren. "It’ll be astronomical."
"That’s what I wanted to hear."
Darren grinned.
Money sitting in a vault was worthless. Spent properly, it became power.
---
Their warship departed from Jerma Kingdom's port.
Onshore, Judge waved them off with a wide smile. But the moment the vessel vanished beyond the horizon, that smile twisted into something darker.
"Sire, the down payment from the North Blue Marines has been secured in the treasury," a middle-aged steward reported respectfully.
Judge nodded, his face grim.
Without a word, he made his way toward Jerma Kingdom’s heavily guarded inner citadel.
Past layers of soldiers, he reached a steel-reinforced vault. Pressing his hand against the panel and staring into a retinal scanner, a synthetic voice responded:
"Iris and bloodline verification complete. Welcome back, Your Majesty."
The door creaked open.
Inside lay a vast laboratory, dozens of incubation tanks lining the walls, each three meters tall and filled with a glowing green liquid.
Inside each tank floated a developing clone soldier.
Judge stood silently before the whirring machines.
Then, without warning, he smashed his fist onto the control console.
Bang!
"Damn it!!"
Veins bulged across his temple as he bellowed.
"Disgrace! What a disgrace!"
He panted heavily, his bloodshot eyes wild.
Him—Vinsmoke Judge, sovereign of Jerma, supreme commander of the Evil Army—reduced to some back-alley weapons dealer!
That bastard Darren thought Jerma existed to supply him arms?
Even the combat suits were now in his sights!
"Damn you! Damn you!! DAMN YOU!!!"
Judge kept pounding the console until it was covered in fist-sized dents.
His gaze wandered over the cloning tanks.
What could fight a monster like Darren?
He felt a chill in his bones.
Was there truly no way to stop him?
Then, the comms crackled.
"Your Majesty, Lady Sora's water just broke. She's about to deliver. Your presence is requested."
Judge froze.
Sora. His wife. She was giving birth.
His first child was about to be born.
His expression softened for just a fleeting second.
"My bloodline..."
He whispered.
Then he went rigid.
A second later:
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!! So that's it!! I've found the way to fight you, Darren!!"
He burst into manic laughter.
"Lineage factors... genetic modification... I should've realized it sooner!!"
"Only a monster can defeat another monster!!"
As if possessed, Judge staggered to a nearby cabinet and yanked out a pink vial.
The glowing fluid reflected his deranged face.
"My child... forgive me."
"This is for Jerma's glory."
He rasped.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 65: Vinsmoke Reiju
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A cold, sterile silence enveloped the laboratory, broken only by the nearly deranged murmuring of Vinsmoke Judge.
“Only a monster… can fight another monster…”
His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the test tube in his hand—a glass vessel brimming with a glowing pink liquid. But in his mind, he saw something else: the image of that Marine… standing tall, unscathed under a hail of bullets, relying on nothing but raw physical endurance.
“Enhanced skin? No… skin and flesh alone could never achieve that level of resilience.”
“Immunity to blades and bullets… regenerative ability beyond human limits… brute strength like that of a wild beast…”
“Yes… yes, of course. Only an exoskeleton can do that.”
His voice was a fevered whisper, his eyes glinting with mad brilliance as he reached for the Den Den Mushi.
“Lord Judge! Are you here yet? Lady Sora is calling your name—she’s about to give birth!”
The butler’s anxious voice rang through.
Judge gritted his teeth, torn between instinct and obsession. Finally, he roared into the receiver:
“Tell the doctor to wait. I need more time!”
Without another word, he slammed the receiver down.
He gently placed the test tube onto the lab bench with care… then violently swept all the instruments and clutter off the control station with a single arm, sending them crashing to the ground.
In the static-laden silence that followed, Judge seized a pen and paper and began scribbling furiously.
“Gene factor ratios… the exoskeleton alone isn’t enough. I’ll need to integrate… poison tolerance.”
Beads of sweat dripped from his temples, down his jaw. He didn’t notice. He didn’t care.
In less than a minute, the paper was covered in dense formulas and chemical ratios, a madman’s roadmap to perfection.
“Let’s begin.”
With a hoarse whisper, he pressed a button on the console.
The lab’s equipment roared to life. Precisely measured compounds and reagents were injected into the pink solution in sequence.
Within seconds, the liquid began to boil, releasing clouds of bubbles.
And then…
Green light.
The console’s status indicator blinked green.
Judge clenched his fists, eyes alight with triumph. He seized the test tube and bolted out of the lab, racing down the halls toward the palace.
Through marble corridors and floral courtyards, the echo of agonized screams reached his ears just as he crossed into the royal wing.
It was her voice.
“Sora…”
He whispered her name, his pace quickening as he pushed through the ornate bedroom door adorned with painted murals.
The white bed sheets were stained crimson. Doctors and nurses in white coats swarmed around the bedside in organized chaos.
She lay there—his queen, Sora—her beauty undiminished, even as pain wracked her body. She trembled with every contraction, drenched in sweat.
“Milord! You’ve arrived!”
The bespectacled doctor looked up, pausing only briefly to bow.
Judge waved him off and rushed to the bed, grabbing Sora’s hand tightly.
“Sora, I’m here.”
With great effort, she opened her eyes. Despite the agony, a gentle smile touched her lips.
“Judge… Judge…”
The sight of her pale, sweat-soaked face twisted something deep in his chest.
He took a deep breath, voice trembling with conviction.
“Sora, I’ve found it. The key to Jerma’s revival—to ruling the North Blue once again!”
He held up the test tube, its pink liquid gleaming ominously.
“The Lineage Factor! With this technology, our children will be born with bodies beyond human—monster-level potential!”
“They will become the greatest warriors Jerma 66 has ever known!”
“The name Vinsmoke will shake the seas again—etched into legend!”
He was breathless with anticipation, desperate for her approval.
But what met him was not joy.
It was horror.
Her wide, tear-filled eyes stared at him in disbelief.
“You… you want to turn our children into weapons?!”
Queen Sora’s voice trembled, her face pale as a ghost.
As Jerma’s queen, she knew all too well what Judge’s so-called "technology" truly entailed.
Just like the cloned soldiers of Jerma’s army—those who were engineered using Lineage Factor manipulation—any child subjected to this procedure would lose all emotion… and become utterly obedient to their creator.
Judge froze.
“No, Sora…”
The fear in her eyes made her feel like a stranger to him. For the first time, he faltered.
“I… I’ll preserve their emotions.”
“But they’ll still be weapons in your hands, won’t they?!”
He opened his mouth, but no words came.
Silence.
And in the silence, a single face returned to his thoughts—burned into his mind.
That arrogant Navy officer of the North Blue…
He clenched his jaw.
“This… is for Jerma’s glory.”
His tone shifted. Cold. Distant. Foreign.
He stood slowly, turning his back to his wife as tears streamed down her cheeks.
His voice was hoarse but firm.
“Only then… can Jerma rise again.”
“I’m sorry, Sora.”
It was a whisper.
And then—
As her sobs filled the room, Vinsmoke Judge handed the test tube to the doctor. His bloodshot eyes flickered with sorrow, his voice barely holding together.
“Inject her with this formula… and proceed with the delivery.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
He never looked back.
---
Half an hour later.
Pacing anxiously outside the palace gates, Judge finally heard it—
A baby’s first cry.
“Congratulations, milord. The lady has delivered a healthy baby girl.”
The doctor emerged, bloodstained and exhausted, holding a newborn in his arms.
Judge blinked.
He stared at the tiny bundle and instinctively reached out to hold her.
Long pink hair draped over her right eye. Her left brow curled in a counterclockwise spiral. Her violet eyes sparkled with life and mischief.
“However… milord, the child’s skin is so dense, our needles can’t pierce it. We… we couldn’t administer her vaccinations.”
The doctor hesitated.
For a moment, Judge was speechless.
Then—pure, unrestrained ecstasy overtook him.
“Hahahahahaha!!”
His laughter filled the palace halls, mad and victorious.
The experiment had succeeded.
A child born with superhuman physiology.
He clutched the infant close.
“No need for vaccines.”
“My daughter… is a monster by birth!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
And so it was—
On this day, within the Kingdom of Jerma in the North Blue, a child of royal blood was born to the Vinsmoke family.
Jerma’s king and Supreme Commander of the Army of Evil, Vinsmoke Judge, bestowed upon her a name:
Vinsmoke Reiju.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
As the waves roll and shadows deepen in the North Blue, your support keeps this tale alive.
Kudos, comments, or bookmarks are the wind in Darren's sails — and mine.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 66: Special Training
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
North Blue
Marine 321st Branch,
The sun blazed over the training grounds, baking the earth and sending waves of heat through the swirling dust. Amidst this furnace of heat and haze, three powerful silhouettes launched a ferocious assault on a lone black-haired Marine standing at the center of the field.
Their coordination was seamless, their movements razor-sharp. Every punch, every strike, operated at peak speed and power—an attack formation honed to perfection.
The crisp white capes of three Marine Headquarters Lieutenant Commanders fluttered with their every move, snapping violently in the wind, as though trying to match the intensity of their offensive.
Yet the man they were attacking—
Half-naked, muscles carved like stone, a smug grin playing at his lips—
—stood completely at ease.
That man was Darren.
And the three coming at him with full force?
Gion, Tokikake, and Momonga.
To the untrained eye, it might’ve looked like a fair match—three against one. But anyone watching closely would’ve noticed something strange.
Despite their numbers, sweat streamed from all three of them. Their breathing was uneven, brows furrowed with pressure.
They were attacking.
And yet… it felt like they were the ones being overwhelmed.
Darren chuckled, casually swatting away a punch as if brushing off dust.
"Come on, Tokikake. What is this? Did you skip breakfast? That punch felt like a feather tickle."
The mockery cut deep.
"Darren, you bastard! What the hell did you just say?!" Tokikake snapped, furious.
The sharp whoosh of blades slicing through the air came from behind.
Without even turning around, Darren tilted his body to the side, neatly dodging the dual sword strikes from Gion and Momonga.
A cocky grin lit up his face.
"Seriously? That soft? You sure you're even a man, dog-breath?"
And just for good measure, his gaze dipped pointedly toward Tokikake’s lower body—a look so layered in disrespect, it could’ve driven any proud man insane.
“You’re dead, Darren!! I’m gonna end you!!”
As expected, Tokikake snapped.
His body erupted in steam, nostrils flaring with white smoke. He charged like a maddened bull, tearing through the ground with such force that the earth beneath his feet exploded, forming a massive crater over five meters wide.
He was a blur of motion—launched like a cannonball straight at Darren.
Boom.
A dull thud echoed across the field.
For a split second, Tokikake stood frozen. His fist had landed square on Darren’s jaw, snapping the man’s head back with explosive force. Blood sprayed.
Had he… actually landed a hit?
Then he saw it—that smile.
Darren’s head was tilted back, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth… but his expression was that of a man delighted.
A mad glint flickered in his eyes. He wasn't hurt. He was thrilled.
“Not bad,” Darren murmured, voice low and electric. “I actually felt that one.”
The sound slithered into Tokikake’s ears like the hiss of a devil.
His eye twitched.
Oh no.
Wham!
Darren headbutted him—hard.
Blood exploded from Tokikake’s forehead as his world spun.
Before he could even fall, a gloved hand filled his blurred vision.
“Not the face!!” Tokikake howled instinctively.
Too late.
Darren seized him by the face and slammed him into the ground like a hammer driving a nail.
Boom!
The earth cracked outward in a thirty-meter radius. Dust exploded into the air as Tokikake’s upper body sank deep into the dirt, his legs twitching in the air like an overturned insect.
And then—
Clang!
The shriek of steel rang out.
A blade cut through the smoke—swift, precise, relentless.
Momonga emerged, cloak billowing, military cap shadowing his steely eyes. He gripped his sword with both hands and brought it down in a savage arc.
Perfect timing.
Shhhhk!
The gleaming blade carved into Darren’s chest, slicing a long, crimson gash.
But Darren just looked down, smirked, and said—
"You're improving."
He grinned like it was a compliment—and then drove a knee straight into Momonga’s ribs.
Boom!
The Lieutenant Commander flew backwards like a ragdoll, crashing through three training dummies before slamming into the ground, coughing up blood.
But even before the dust settled, Darren sensed it—a piercing chill from above.
It made his skin crawl.
He looked up.
There she was.
Gion.
Cloak whipping behind her as she plummeted from the sky, blade poised, her entire body tightened into the perfect stance.
Her sword, Kinpira, gleamed with raw energy, its tip honed directly on his heart.
This… this was different.
A candidate for admiralcy.
A sword prodigy.
He smiled.
Let’s see it, Pink Bunny.
Clang!
Her sword struck his palm.
The blade cut through his glove, biting into his skin—but Darren held it firm.
Wind howled as the power of her strike scattered the dust.
She screamed, putting everything into that one descending blow. Her blade flared with light, resisting Darren’s strength, driving downward—inch by inch—toward his chest.
It was close.
So close.
But she couldn’t do it.
No matter how hard she pushed, she couldn't bring the blade down that last centimeter.
It was like trying to force gravity to bend.
Darren exhaled softly—and tightened his grip.
The clash of steel rang out as he yanked the blade to the side. Gion faltered in midair.
In the next instant—
His fist drove into her gut like a cannon.
Boom!
The air rippled around her back as the impact exploded through her body.
Her face went pale. The sword dropped from her hands.
She collapsed to her knees, hands clutching her stomach, blood trickling from her lips.
Drip. Drip.
Blood from Darren’s own chest wounds trickled steadily to the dusty ground, quickly swallowed by the earth, leaving dark, muddy stains.
Darren surveyed the scene:
Gion kneeling, wheezing for breath.
Tokikake twitching in a crater.
Momonga crumpled, coughing blood.
He smiled.
“All right. That’s enough for today.”
He blinked lazily, watching their beaten expressions.
“We’ll continue tomorrow.”
With that, he turned and walked off toward the command office.
Momonga groaned, rubbing his temples.
Gion lay flat on her back, still gripping her sword.
Tokikake let out a pitiful wail.
“Damn it!”
It had been two weeks since their return from Jerma Kingdom, where they had “tested” a certain weapon.
And ever since that day—
Darren had dragged them into these brutal “training sessions,” claiming it was all to “help them improve.”
But to Tokikake, it felt more like… daily humiliation.
The bastard was just finding new ways to bully them.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
"You’re not wrong, Tokikake. He’s absolutely bullying you."
Chapter 67: Life Is Simple
Chapter Text
Evening.
Commanding Officer’s Office, Marine 321st Branch.
Darren stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling window, shirtless as usual, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth. The glass reflected the golden rays of the setting sun, casting a long shadow behind him as he overlooked the entire base.
Out at sea, warships patrolled the surrounding waters in strict formation. On the training grounds below, rows of Marines drilled under barking commands, the rhythmic clash of wooden swords and shouted cadences echoing up to the office.
Other soldiers worked steadily along the docks and gun batteries, maintaining the cannons, checking gear, and prepping for the next rotation.
The haze of cigar smoke curled around Darren’s chiseled face, his eyes sharp, contemplative.
“Progress is slowing down…”
He exhaled, sighing quietly, eyes drifting to the scabbed-over wounds on his palms and chest.
They’d likely be healed by morning. His superhuman physique granted him not only brutal defense, but an absurd rate of recovery.
At this point, standard training no longer pushed his limits.
His body had adapted—completely. No matter how intense the stimulus, it barely registered anymore.
That’s why, ever since returning from the Germa Kingdom, he’d pulled in Momonga, Gion, and Tokikake for “special training.”
Partly, it was to help them push their own potential to the next level.
But mostly?
It was to force new pressure onto himself.
True, their combined strength still wasn’t enough to truly threaten him. But in combat, even simulated, Darren’s body responded to the challenge with slight gains. Every strike, every clash—his stats crept forward, if only by fractions.
And in a sea this vast, those three were far from weak.
They were exceptional.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his perception sharpen. Using his innate gift for “sensing,” Darren scanned his own physical condition—his internal “status screen” coming into focus.
Physique: 61.753
Strength: 57.192
Speed: 59.241
Devil Fruit: 72.111
Over the past month, his physical stats had only increased by 0.5 to 0.8 each—marginal gains. Most of that had come from these “training sessions.”
As for his Devil Fruit development, progress was even slower.
Knock knock.
A soft rapping broke the silence.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and in stepped Lieutenant Commander Momonga, crisp in uniform, cap snug on his head. His stride was straight and sure, though a bit weary.
Darren poured him a glass of chilled whiskey and handed it over with a grin.
“How’re you holding up?”
Momonga accepted the drink, grimacing as he took a seat.
“Not great. Not all of us are freaks who get off on pain and brawling, y’know.”
He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days. Every training session left his body feeling like a broken jigsaw puzzle. Even lying in bed, his muscles still screamed.
Darren just shrugged with a grin.
“Pain’s a good thing. It reminds you you’re alive.”
“In battle, taking a hit with your own flesh lets you feel your opponent’s strength. Their speed, their force, even their will. It’s the quickest way to see their weakness.”
Momonga rolled his eyes and downed the drink in one go.
Darren’s fighting style had always baffled him.
He had the speed and instincts to dodge nearly anything. But he rarely did.
Instead, he chose to meet attacks head-on, letting himself be hit.
His wild, savage fighting style was the polar opposite of his political nature—shrewd, manipulative, precise.
But in combat?
He never dodged. He never retreated.
It was a style he’d forged over years—maybe one influenced by his former commanding officer: Sakazuki.
Fight with blood. Trade injury for injury. Gamble everything when death is on the line.
These were the kind of opponents you prayed you’d never face.
Like a starving wolf, mad with hunger—
Even if his organs were crushed, even if his limbs were broken—
He’d still be grinning, dragging his teeth across your throat for one last bite.
Darren casually refilled Momonga’s glass.
“Dodging in battle is a bad habit. Makes you soft. Makes you hesitant.”
“If you always leave yourself an escape route, you’ll start depending on it. And eventually, your enemy will predict it.”
“If you’re planning a retreat, you’ve already lost the fight.”
“Reflexive evasion doesn’t make you stronger—it just slows you down.”
“It’s will. It’s resolve. It’s the instinct to win when staring death in the face—that’s what makes power real.”
Then he added with a chuckle:
“There’s only one Borsalino in this sea.”
At that, even the stoic Momonga twitched slightly, recalling the smug, drawling voice of that light-speed freak.
He sighed.
“But if you keep risking everything in every fight… how many lives do you think you’ve got?”
Darren took a sip of his whiskey, the sunset glinting in his eyes.
“Who knows?”
He stared toward the horizon, cigar smoke trailing around his sharp, composed features. His voice echoed softly through the spacious room.
“But we only get one life. I intend to live it loud.”
“To me, life is simple. Move forward—or fall back.”
“Falling back? Sure. It’s easy. The first time you do it, you’ll lie to yourself. ‘It’s fine. I’ll let this one slide. I’ll get them next time…’”
“But the moment you do it once—there will be a second time.”
“Again, and again. Every retreat. Every compromise. Every dodge.”
“And one day, you’ll look in the mirror and realize—you’re not the same person anymore.”
“There are a thousand reasons to back down. But only one reason to move forward.”
He smiled.
“That one reason is enough for me.”
He clenched his fist.
“I’d rather die than lose.”
Momonga fell silent.
He understood.
Darren wasn’t just talking about fighting.
These were the same words that had guided the man through every decision he’d made. Over and over again, when the world demanded compromise—he chose resistance.
In battle.
Against Germa 66.
Against the Celestial Dragons.
The words “grin and bear it” simply didn’t exist in Rogers Darren’s vocabulary.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 68: A Fair Game
Chapter Text
Silence lingered in the air for a long while before Momonga finally exhaled a heavy breath.
He looked once more toward the tall silhouette standing in front of the window, smoke curling around his face, the fading sun casting long shadows across the office floor.
For just a moment, he felt like he could see the soul hidden inside this so-called “disgrace of the Marines”—scarred, battered, and yet unbroken.
Untamed. Unrelenting.
Always moving forward.
Yes... this was why.
This was the kind of man one could follow for a lifetime.
“Those two have improved a lot recently,” Darren said suddenly, breaking the silence.
His gaze had shifted to the training grounds in the distance.
Beneath the crimson sunset, the sand whipped in golden spirals. Beyond the formation drills of the 321st Branch, two figures stood out sharply.
To the left, Gion wielded her golden blade in silence, her cloak dancing behind her as she struck, again and again.
Every swing of Kinpira shimmered like lightning, slashing through incoming projectiles with impossible precision. Sparks bloomed at the edge of every impact.
She was slicing bullets out of the air.
And on the far right—
Tokikake, face flushed and jaw clenched, was hauling a decommissioned patrol vessel across the sand. Inch by inch, he dragged it forward, every vein on his body bulging as if ready to burst.
“I’m not some damn mutt!” he growled between clenched teeth. “I’m not weak!!”
Momonga followed Darren’s gaze and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“They’re traumatized,” he said dryly. “You’ve put such a scar on them they’re now obsessed with getting stronger.”
“They already are stronger,” Darren replied. “They just don’t know it yet.”
He glanced at Momonga and added silently to himself:
Because the one they’re training against… is me.
“Gion, I expected,” Darren continued. “She’s always been a model student in Sengoku’s eyes. But Tokikake… That idiot’s got more backbone than I gave him credit for.”
Momonga nodded, lifting his glass.
“He’s… persistent. After every session, he keeps training on his own. Overloads his schedule like it’s nothing.”
“Even when you absolutely wreck him, he drags himself back onto the field the next day like nothing happened. It’s like the pain doesn’t even register anymore.”
“He’s been beaten down hundreds of times—but he never loses heart.”
“There’s something admirable about that.”
He paused.
“Well… except his priorities are a little weird.”
“Weird?” Darren raised an eyebrow.
Momonga grimaced.
“There’ve been… complaints. He’s been spotted entering the female barracks way too often.”
Darren blinked.
Classic Tokikake.
There was more Momonga didn’t say—that Tokikake had been crashing noble parties under the guise of “civil engagement,” only to come back bruised and disheveled… yet always ready to do it again.
Shaking his head, Darren asked:
“How’s that Doffy brat doing lately?”
Momonga’s tone sharpened.
“Fast progress. In less than half a month, he’s seized control of nearly 30% of the North Blue’s mafia territories. The Donquixote Family’s numbers have doubled, nearing 2,000.”
“He rules with blood and fire—merciless to those who resist, generous to those who kneel.”
“And all the while… he makes sure to minimize civilian casualties.”
“If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’d never believe he was only twelve.”
He hesitated.
“There’s something about his methods… that reminds me of someone else.”
“Who?”
“You.”
Darren grinned.
“Then I chose the right godson.”
He took another sip of whiskey.
“But I imagine there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
Momonga gave a resigned sigh.
“…You don’t miss a thing.”
“Let’s hear it,” Darren said. “This is the North Blue. The underground here is a tougher nut than most.”
Momonga nodded.
“That’s exactly it. Donquixote’s rise has been so fast, so loud, that the other mafia families have started to panic.”
“They’ve torn up their ceasefires with us. Now they’re recruiting like mad, fighting bloody turf wars all across the region—trying to crush the Donquixote Family before it fully takes root.”
Darren narrowed his eyes.
“I expected better from them.”
That look—Momonga knew it too well.
Someone was about to suffer.
“You’re going to intervene?”
Darren chuckled coldly.
“If they had the guts to unite and take him down properly, I wouldn’t step in.”
“They respected the rules. I would’ve let the game play out.”
“But now?”
“They’re breaking the rules. Attacking civilians. Seizing territory like vultures.”
He turned away from the window.
“This was meant to be a fair game. When the Donquixote Family overstepped, I personally wiped out over a thousand of their men as punishment.”
“If Doflamingo wants to be king of the North Blue underworld, he has to start from zero. I won’t help him.”
“He has to earn it.”
“Donquixote versus the entire North Blue underworld—that was the setup.”
“If he fails, then so be it. He never deserved it anyway.”
“But these thugs… they’ve disappointed me.”
“They broke my rules.”
He muttered, almost to himself:
“…I’m not happy.”
Momonga took a slow breath.
“When do we move?”
He didn’t ask for further details.
He didn’t need to.
Because in the North Blue, no one breaks Rogers Darren’s rules and walks away.
As for “fair games”?
There’s no such thing.
Even the house steps onto the table sometimes.
When that happens… the game ends quickly.
Because in this sea?
The so-called “underground world” is only ever one command away from annihilation.
Darren reached for his uniform, tugging it on with one smooth motion.
“Let’s go.”
“Time to deliver a little gift to my beloved godson.”
He adjusted his black tie.
Draped the crisp white Marine coat across his shoulders.
And said, voice cool and sharp:
“Before I leave the North Blue… I’m going to unify its underworld.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 69: A Message
Chapter Text
North Blue – Filbert Island
Late Night
The sky was painted in blood and fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
BOOM!!
Gunfire and cannon blasts tore through the streets like a storm. Hundreds of Marines surrounded a mafia stronghold, launching a full-scale assault under the cover of night.
Smoke billowed, walls crumbled, and explosions tore massive holes into the concrete barricades. Rubble rained from the heavens.
“Damn it! Where the hell did the Marines get weapons like this?!”
A mafia officer in a torn black suit, his face streaked with blood, dragged himself out from a collapsed wall, eyes bloodshot with rage and panic.
This was the Snoke Family—one of the most powerful criminal syndicates on Filbert Island. They ruled over the island’s underground for miles in every direction—controlling smuggling, gambling, liquor, brothels, and black market trade.
They had firearms, explosives, manpower in the hundreds—enough to deter even mid-sized pirate crews.
And yet tonight, it all crumbled in seconds.
Their empire of decadence, vice, and excess… vaporized under fire and steel.
One blast had snapped York Snoke awake. He’d shot up from bed in confusion, his ears ringing as chaos thundered all around him. Explosions screamed past—he couldn’t even tell what was hitting what.
The estate. The weapons depot. The courtyards. The meeting halls. The very ground—
Everything was shaking.
Marine bombardment rained relentlessly. Most of the Snoke officers never even made it out—buried alive under their own collapsing walls.
York stood frozen, stunned as he watched wave after wave of Marines move in with precision. Trained. Disciplined. Equipped with weapons he’d never seen before.
Flamethrowers that scorched the air.
Electro-guns crackling with blue lightning.
Portable chain guns, spinning barrels roaring.
And even… shoulder-mounted rocket launchers?!
What kind of Marine branch was this?!
BOOM!
A missile exploded overhead. The domed roof of the church shattered, raining stone and steel across the estate.
A massive shadow loomed over York.
In that final moment, just before the rubble came crashing down, he saw him.
A goofy-looking Marine in wooden sandals… hands in his pockets… walking casually through the flames.
Then—
He lifted an entire house off the ground.
CRASH!
The home arced into the sky and slammed back down, demolishing what remained of the Snoke compound into a smoldering ruin.
In the thick smoke, Tokikake stared at his hands.
When… did I get this strong?
He’d only meant to test himself. He never thought he could actually lift a damn building.
“Lieutenant Commander Tokikake is amazing!!”
“He’s even stronger than the Germa tech we’ve seen!!”
“Absolutely incredible! Truly a Headquarters elite!!”
The surrounding Marines erupted into cheers, eyes full of awe.
Tokikake’s chest swelled with pride. Hands on hips, he let out a boisterous laugh.
“Of course!! I’m a natural-born genius!!”
He glanced disdainfully at a Marine holding a machine gun.
“Guns… What a primitive, brutish way to fight.”
---
Meanwhile—another island.
Another mafia hideout burned under the onslaught.
A different Marine unit had already breached the perimeter.
“Damn you Marines!! You’re not giving us a chance!!”
A burly mafia boss with a bushy mustache charged forward, wielding a massive steel shield. Like a bull, he plowed into the front line, scattering Marines in all directions.
“Hahaha!! See that?! THAT’S power!!”
But his laughter was cut short.
Clang.
The sound of a blade rang through the night.
He turned toward it—toward the fire.
From the flames walked a tall figure in high heels, her steps calm, graceful… terrifying.
She had dark hair tied in a bun. A beauty mark below her lip. A short pink skirt. And a body built like sin.
Over her shoulders, her Marine coat billowed through the smoke like wings.
In her hand—a long golden blade that shimmered with reflected firelight.
If this were a different night, the boss might’ve tried to bed her.
But now?
Now, he was afraid to breathe.
A line split across his shield.
Then his arm.
Then his throat.
A thin line of blood bloomed like a flower.
“…What a fast sword…”
His voice croaked as both he and his shield fell in two.
Gion stood above him, calm and cold, her blade sliding smoothly back into its sheath.
“In the name of justice… I sentence you to death.”
Her words echoed.
Behind her, the Marines charged. Screams and gunfire rang out again. Gion remained still, deep in thought.
“I’ve gotten stronger…”
She whispered to herself.
It was true.
The hellish training of the past ten days—fighting that monster—had pushed her far beyond her limits.
She hadn’t noticed because that man always kept her under his heel. The gap between them was too vast.
But now?
Now she could feel it.
She’d changed.
And yet…
She clenched her fists.
Grit her teeth.
“…Still not enough.”
---
Elsewhere.
A luxurious private estate. Opulence in every corner.
The home of the Rockefeller Family, one of the most powerful syndicates in the archipelago.
Inside the master bedroom, Jermansa, the family patriarch, shot up from sleep. He grabbed the pistol beneath his pillow and opened fire toward the corner of the room.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off metal.
From the shadows stepped a stern-faced Marine in uniform, his cap low over his eyes. His blade gleamed in the dim light.
Jermansa’s pupils shrank.
“…You.”
His mistress cowered in fear, clutching the blankets close.
Momonga walked forward.
His blade dripped blood.
“You broke the rules.”
He spoke without emotion.
“And so—Rogers Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue… sends his regards.”
The blade flashed once in the dark.
Slice.
Blood sprayed across the silk sheets.
And then—
“AAAAAHHHH!!”
The woman’s scream echoed through the entire mansion.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 70: The Deepest Darkness in the North Blue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The largest and wealthiest commercial port in the North Blue—
Tass Port.
When Donquixote Doflamingo and his men arrived, what they saw was chaos wrapped in prosperity.
Ships of every size jostled for space in the harbor. Flags bearing dozens of different insignias flapped in the wind. Sailors barked orders from the decks while nobles and merchants puffed pipes on the shore, yelling at dockworkers and pointing fingers.
Beyond the docks, a sprawling city climbed from the shoreline. Shops of every kind lined the streets, crowded with bodies. Goods from across the North Blue—and the world—filled the shelves.
From a distance, the city looked like it was swelling, growing in every direction. White canals cut through the maze of buildings like ribbons of light, shimmering beneath the setting sun.
Bustling, bloated, filthy, rich—everywhere stank of gold and rot.
“W-whoa... this place really is the North Blue’s biggest trade port,” Trebol muttered, snot dripping from his nose.
“Smells like opportunity,” said Diamante, licking the corner of his mouth, face painted in garish colors.
Vergo said nothing, munching on a slice of bread stuck to his cheek.
Pica laughed in his high-pitched, squeaky voice. “Pikkya-pikkya-pikkyarara! Won’t be long before it’s ours!”
Their faces gleamed with ambition—and rightly so.
In just two weeks, the Donquixote Family had gone from nothing to a dominant force, swallowing over 30% of the North Blue’s underworld in a blitzkrieg of precision and blood.
No one had ever moved so fast. Not in this sea.
And now, this glittering port… was their next target.
“Rodriguez Family...” Doflamingo stood at the prow, sunglasses gleaming as he took in the scene. His lips curled into a cold grin.
Same smug outfit as always—shades, a button-up shirt, cropped pants, pointed shoes.
But now, his look was completed by a flamingo-pink feather coat, whipping in the harbor wind like the wings of a proud young bird.
“Doffy,” Trebol wheezed as he hobbled over, “if we take down the Rodriguez Family and absorb their operations, we’ll have half the North Blue’s underworld, won’t we?”
Doflamingo’s grin widened.
“Exactly. They’re entrenched here in Tass Port. With the trade routes flowing through this place, they control at least 30% of the black market. Take them out, and what’s left? The Snokes, Vincents, Rockefellers—they’re just scraps.”
The four officers laughed with reverence.
“Boss,” Diamante said suddenly, tone dark. “We don’t have to bow to that damn Marine.”
The laughter stopped.
“He says the underworld belongs to him now, but let’s be honest—we’re the ones who bled for it. Has Rogers Darren ever helped us? Even once?”
Silence.
Doflamingo’s smile faded.
He turned.
“Is that what all of you think?”
The four men lowered their heads, avoiding his eyes.
“We just believe… you were born to be a king.”
“A king bows to no one.”
He stared at them for a long moment. Then turned back toward the city.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said softly. “Don’t say it again.”
“…Understood.”
They bowed low.
But even as they did, they exchanged wary glances.
They knew that tone.
The quieter Doflamingo got… the more violent the storm building inside him.
A king?
He was one. But would a king ever kneel to another man?
Could the name Donquixote accept such a thing?
“Let’s go,” he whispered, a grin twisting his face.
“Hihihi… let’s take what’s ours.”
He raised both hands.
A storm of invisible threads shot from his fingertips, vanishing into the air and reaching deep into the city like spider legs.
His coat flared dramatically behind him.
Doflamingo let out a wicked, thunderous laugh:
“This world’s rules? At their core—it’s just survival of the fittest!!”
“Hehhahaha!!”
BANG!
One of the Donquixote men fired a pistol into the air.
“Donquixote Family business! Civilians, clear the area!!”
Terrified merchants and sailors froze. The sudden crack of gunfire drained the color from their faces.
And when they saw the rising skull flag above the ship, they dropped everything and fled in panic.
Donquixote foot soldiers leapt from the ship with crazed grins, charging toward the Rodriguez Family’s territory.
The battle had begun.
---
At the same time—
A luxurious estate.
A sealed conference room.
A fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows.
Two men sat across from each other.
One in a sharp black suit, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
The other—relaxed.
Calm.
Cigar in hand.
Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, Rogers Darren.
“I know you’re angry, Commander,” the older man rasped. “But… is it really fair for the house to enter the game?”
Darren smirked, eyes narrowing.
“No,” he said. “But life isn’t fair.”
Veins bulged along the man’s forehead.
“I’ve followed your rules for years,” he said, trembling. “And now I just—”
“You broke the rules,” Darren interrupted flatly.
Silence.
The man paled, his knuckles clenching and unclenching.
“…Why me?”
“Not just you. Everyone who breaks them… will be punished.”
The man froze.
And then—
He laughed.
Wild, shaking laughter that brought tears to his eyes.
“Hahaha!! I see… so that’s how it is. After all these years of rivalry, we all end up in the same grave.”
“Rogers Darren… they call you the disgrace of the Marines…”
He locked eyes with him.
“But I know what you really are.”
“A viper.”
“Cunning. Cold. I don’t even think you can feel compassion.”
“…Do it.”
“I knew this day would come the moment I chose this life.”
“They call me a giant of the North Blue underworld…”
He laughed again, bitterly.
“But what a joke.”
“In this sea—the darkest thing of all…”
“…is you, cloaked in justice.”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Hey! Thanks for reading—really hope you liked it. If it made you feel something, even just a little, a quick kudos or comment would totally make my day!
Chapter 71: Why Should I Bow?
Chapter Text
"In the North Blue... the darkest one of all is you, cloaked in justice!"
The man’s laughter echoed manically through the vaulted chamber, madness and clarity interwoven in his voice.
"We—the so-called emperors of the underworld, the feared kings of the black market... All of us were nothing but puppets. Your puppets, Rogers Darren!"
His face convulsed in rage.
"You, who hoist the banner of justice, are more wicked, more ruthless than any of us!"
Captain Rogers Darren remained still. His gaze sharp, face calm.
A trail of cigar smoke drifted lazily from his lips.
"This world," he said simply, "has always worked that way."
This was the true world of One Piece.
The anime? A dream. Freedom. Camaraderie. Laughter. Firelit adventure. But reality?
Slaves in chains, their lives cheaper than dirt. Civilians torn from homes, families scattered. Pirates singing songs of freedom while burning villages to ash. Mafias gorging on suffering. The Celestial Dragons—"gods" of this world—executing people on whims. The World Government, decayed and monstrous, hiding centuries of truth.
And the Marines? Dogs on a leash.
Justice? A word. Nothing more.
Pull away from the straw hat fantasy and what remains is a rotten sea, choked with blood and lies.
Darren had seen it. Understood it. Long ago.
He couldn't change the world.
So he had to be darker than anyone within it.
Colder. Sharper.
The man before him stared, the fury on his face withering in the face of blunt honesty. He stood quiet for a long moment, then:
"One last question."
Darren raised an eyebrow.
"Ask."
"Once we've been purged, who inherits the North Blue's underworld?"
Darren glanced up at the chandelier.
"Donquixote Doflamingo."
The man blinked. Then chuckled. A slow, exhausted sound.
"So that's how it is..."
He sat up straight, buttoned his cuffs, adjusted his suit. Ran fingers through greased-back hair.
"Do it."
---
'Why should I bow?'
SHING!
Threads zipped through the air.
Three mafia enforcers collapsed mid-charge, their bodies cleaved in two. Entrails steaming across the ground. Eyes frozen in confusion, fading to gray.
'Did they think blades could stop me?'
Doflamingo twitched a finger. Blood flecked across his shades.
He advanced, slow and confident.
Behind him, the Donquixote Family surged forward—swords drawn, voices wild.
'Why should I bow?'
Screams echoed. Gunfire. Chaos.
From the rooftops, five more enemies descended, axes raised.
Doflamingo flexed.
Invisible strings seized them.
"My arms—they won’t listen!"
"What is this?!"
"Stop! Don’t—not him—!"
THWACK.
Their weapons swung with unnatural force. Five skulls split open.
'I control fate. Every limb, every heartbeat, every breath.'
'I was born to command. Born to conquer.'
'I am a Celestial Dragon. The blood of gods runs through me. They should all kneel.'
CRACK!
Dozens of threads twisted into a single whip and lashed forward, splitting an armory wide open.
BOOM!
The explosion lit the sky. Black smoke towered upward. Screaming men burned in orange flame.
'He said the underworld was mine. But even if he hadn’t, I would have taken it anyway.'
'Because I am the one meant to rule it.'
'I am the king of the dark.'
'Why should I bow?'
Every step was death.
His officers followed, laughing madly.
Doflamingo’s smile stretched wider.
'There is no pleasure greater than watching them suffer. Watching their illusions collapse.'
His body trembled. Not in fear. In hunger.
Power rippled from his frame.
Conqueror’s Haki.
Dozens collapsed unconscious.
The air warped. The sky churned.
'Why should I bow?'
'Rodriguez is only the beginning. I won't rot in the North Blue forever.'
'No. The Grand Line awaits. The New World awaits.'
'Where emperors rise, and kings are devoured.'
He halted before a grand mansion.
Rodriguez Michael’s estate.
Behind him stood Trebol, Vergo, Pica, Diamante. The entire Donquixote Family. Watching. Waiting.
Their faces? Adoration.
Doflamingo looked at the gilded door.
His smile curved into something cruel.
'No one will stop me.'
'No one.'
'Why should I bow?'
He reached forward and pushed the door.
Creeaakk...
His smile froze.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 72: Thank You, Godfather
Chapter Text
Creeeeak...
The twin doors of the grand villa opened with the protesting groan of ancient bronze hinges. A blast of icy wind poured out, curling through the entryway like the breath of something long-dead. It swept over Doflamingo’s frame, sending his pink-feathered coat into a wild, fluttering dance.
And then—the world fell silent.
As if something unseen had snapped.
No sound. No motion.
Trebol, Diamante, Vergo, Pica—the elite four who moments ago strode with bloodstained blades and swaggering bravado—stood frozen.
Behind them, the Donquixote Family’s soldiers—hundreds strong—stiffened as one, each man held in place by some ancient, unspoken fear.
Their eyes had locked on something inside.
Sweat trickled.
Throats convulsed.
Drip.
Drip.
A faint sound in the silence. Something thick. Liquid. Hitting stone.
The flames in the vast domed hall flickered.
Shadows danced across the ornate stained-glass windows. The central chandelier swayed ever so slightly, casting halos of moving gold across a long oval conference table, worn and weathered by time.
And there, above the fireplace—
Hung a corpse.
Pinned like an offering.
Slicked-back hair. Sharp black suit. A blood-red rose pinned neatly to the lapel.
A steel spear had been driven clean through his heart and into the black stone wall behind him. Crimson soaked his chest, legs, and shoes. It dripped from the tips of his polished shoes like wine from a broken chalice.
Drip.
They all recognized him.
Rodriguez Michael.
The Don of Dons.
The iron-fisted patriarch who had ruled one-third of the North Blue’s underworld for over two decades.
Now—dead.
Hung like a heretic.
His empty eyes gazed at them through death.
His lips curved ever so slightly, frozen in a smirk that mocked them all.
Trebol shivered. His scalp crawled. The entire room seemed colder.
Their gazes shifted.
To the head of the long table.
Where a man sat.
A man who blended into the shadows as though he were born from them.
Flames flickered, but his face remained veiled.
Black suit. Black tie. White shirt. Gloves. Boots polished to a mirror shine.
One leg crossed over the other.
One hand twirling a lit cigar.
The other tapping the table with the measured rhythm of judgment.
Eyes like twin daggers glinted in the dark.
He was smiling.
They couldn't see it.
But they knew it.
"Perfect timing," he said.
His voice rolled through the silence.
The firelight finally caught his features.
Captain Rogers Darren.
"Well done," he said with quiet praise, turning his gaze to the boy in the flamingo coat.
Doflamingo didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
His fists were clenched tight.
Trembling.
Trebol swallowed. He could only see their young master’s back—but that was enough to know the fury boiling beneath.
And then—
Brrrrrr... Brrrrrr...
A Den Den Mushi rang.
Darren reached into his coat and calmly answered.
"It’s me."
A voice responded on the line:
"Reporting in, Captain Darren. As of five minutes ago, the operation is complete."
"All targets—including the Snock, Vincent, and Rockefeller families—have been purged. Seventeen underworld syndicates, fully eliminated in the name of justice."
The Donquixote Family gasped.
Their jaws tightened.
North Blue’s underworld—gone?
No. Crushed.
The one who had done it was standing right before them.
The body of Rodriguez Michael still bleeding behind him.
Panic rippled through the ranks.
Were they next?
"Good," Darren said mildly. "Excellent work. Return to base. I’ll be along shortly."
"Yes, sir."
He ended the call, pocketed the snail, took a slow drag of his cigar, and rose from the chair.
One movement.
And over a thousand men took a full step back.
Except one.
Doflamingo stood unmoving.
His fists trembled harder.
Rage? Humiliation? Something deeper?
Darren stepped toward him.
Trebol flinched. Tried to move.
Darren looked at him.
One look.
Ice slid down his spine. He froze.
Bootsteps echoed.
Until Darren stood before the boy.
Blonde. Silent. Furious.
The Captain smiled.
"This is my gift to you, Doflamingo."
His tone was soft. Almost... parental.
"From this moment on, the North Blue’s underworld belongs to you."
He extended a hand.
"Do you like it?"
One second.
Two.
Three.
Trebol could barely breathe.
'Why should I bow...'
'I... why should I bow?'
Doflamingo’s hands stopped trembling.
He exhaled.
Unclenched.
Trebol heard a silent sigh.
Then he saw it.
His young master’s shoulders relaxed.
He stepped forward.
Took Darren’s hand.
Bent.
And kissed the back of it.
A quiet, respectful gesture.
He smiled.
"Thank you, my Godfather."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 73: In the North Blue, There Is Only Black and White
Chapter Text
What is the most important thing when raising a wild wolf?
Is it to fuel its hatred for the Celestial Dragons and the World Government? To cultivate its thirst for blood and war? To allow it to hunt freely, keeping its savage instincts sharp? Or perhaps, to give it a clear target—to train its killer instinct?
All of these matter.
But none of them are the most important.
No.
To raise a true wild wolf, the most crucial thing is to dominate it completely.
To break it.
To torment it again and again, until submission becomes not just habit, but instinct. Until it carries the memory of that domination like a brand scorched into the depths of its soul.
So that it never forgets who its true master is.
Rogers Darren smiled in satisfaction as the young Celestial Dragon knelt before him and kissed his hand.
"Good," he said warmly. "You're truly worthy of being my godson."
He ruffled Doflamingo's golden hair affectionately, then took his hand and led him, step by step, out of the blood-soaked grand hall.
Outside the villa, the entire Donquixote Family stood in stunned silence.
They watched, slack-jawed, as their defiant, untamable young master was led like a docile child by a black-haired Marine. No one could speak. No one could move. It felt like a dream.
"Doflamingo... these are your subordinates?" Darren asked casually, his eyes sweeping over the thousand-strong crowd of underworld soldiers.
Doflamingo lowered his head.
"Yes, Godfather."
Darren nodded. "Quite impressive. For the North Blue, they're elite."
He paused. "But there's one thing I don't like."
Doflamingo raised his eyes slightly. "What is it, Godfather?"
Darren's smile sharpened.
"You are my godson. A born king. Remember this:"
His eyes flared with imperial menace.
"Everyone—except me—must kneel before you."
The words were followed by an earth-shaking pressure.
A tidal wave of pure will.
Unleashed without restraint.
A torrent of Conqueror's Haki exploded from Darren's body, sweeping across the entire area like a divine punishment. The world lost its color. Black and white consumed everything.
Gales tore through the trees. Dust swirled. Shadows shrieked.
The Donquixote officers—Trebol, Diamante, Vergo, and Pica—fell to one knee as if gravity had quadrupled.
Their minds blanked.
Their knees hit stone.
Thousands of weapons clattered to the ground in a storm of steel.
Even those who managed to stay conscious were trembling, cold sweat drenching their backs.
Only two men remained standing.
Darren.
And Doflamingo.
The boy was biting down hard, veins bulging in his neck, eyes bloodshot.
He was trying to suppress something raging within.
A familiar pressure pulsed beneath his skin—his own Conqueror's Haki—but it couldn't rise. Not here. Not now.
"I'll be waiting for you in the Grand Line, Doflamingo."
Darren's cloak billowed behind him, casting a long shadow that fell over the blond youth like a mantle of fate.
Doflamingo bowed his head.
"Yes, Godfather," he said, voice low, wild ambition hidden deep behind crimson eyes.
...
In the year 1492 of the Sea Circle Calendar, under the direct orders of Rogers Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, the Marine forces of the North Blue launched a brutal campaign against more than twenty known mafia syndicates.
The purge marked the end of an era.
In less than a week, the Donquixote Family, led by the now fully empowered Doflamingo, claimed absolute dominion over the underworld.
Their operations spanned arms smuggling, gambling, trafficking, intelligence, and extended tentacles far beyond the North Blue—even touching the Grand Line.
And from that day forward, a new saying was born:
"The world may be painted in color. But in the North Blue, there is only black and white."
The lawless North Blue—once a hive of chaos and blood—had entered an age of controlled peace.
...
"You’re insane. Letting him run free like this... Aren’t you afraid Doflamingo might stab you in the back one day?"
Back at the 321st Branch, inside the Commander's office, Momonga rubbed his temple while scanning a thick dossier.
Reports of the Donquixote Family’s rapid expansion filled every page: acquisition records, territory claims, influence maps.
"He won’t," Darren said easily, puffing on a cigar while gazing out the wide window toward the sea.
"You sure? That kid doesn’t exactly scream loyalty."
Darren turned, his smile calm.
"It’s precisely because he isn’t loyal that I trust him."
"The truly dangerous enemies are never the ones with ambition. They're the ones who smile and hide the knife behind their back."
"Doflamingo is useful. The bigger his power, the more stable the North Blue becomes."
He exhaled slowly.
"And with his identity as a Celestial Dragon, not even the World Government will interfere with what we build here."
Momonga frowned. "Maybe. But I've seen the way he looks at you. That kid’s hungry."
"What happens when you leave the North Blue?"
Darren shrugged, then asked, "Do you know what the spirit of a king is?"
"You mean Conqueror's Haki?"
"Exactly."
He smiled again, more deeply this time.
"Doflamingo has it. That’s why I chose him."
His gaze sharpened.
"Power, speed, status—all of it is secondary."
"On this sea, the one thing that decides everything... is will."
"As long as my Conqueror's Haki is stronger than his, he will never rebel."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 74: The Shortcut to Awakening Conqueror's Haki
Chapter Text
"Conqueror's Haki..."
Momonga murmured the words under his breath. But the moment their weight sank in, his eyes shot wide with disbelief as he turned to stare at his commanding officer, who sat casually puffing a cigar, one leg slung over the other.
"Wait—you awakened Conqueror's Haki!?"
Darren gave him a sidelong glance and grinned. "Yeah."
Back on Rubeck Island, when Darren had clashed with Doflamingo, Momonga had been occupied elsewhere—coordinating the island blockade, evacuating civilians, and issuing deployment orders. He hadn’t witnessed the clash of wills firsthand.
"When did it happen!?"
Momonga sucked in a sharp breath. His mind reeled.
In the entire North Blue, even the last Supreme Commander—the legendary Sakazuki, known as the "Monster"—had never awakened it.
Sure, on the Grand Line or in the New World, there were plenty of pirates with the gift: Whitebeard, and the elusive Gol D. Roger to name a few.
But in the Marines? That was a different story.
As an institution built on strict discipline and hierarchy, with the Celestial Dragons looming overhead, the conditions were far from ideal for the birth of kings.
In all of Momonga’s knowledge, only three Marines had ever awakened Conqueror's Haki: Fleet Admiral Kong, Admiral Sengoku, and Vice Admiral Garp—the "Hero of the Marines."
And now Darren—this very man sitting across from him—was claiming the same?
That would put him above even Sakazuki and Borsalino.
"If you’re asking when exactly..."
Darren exhaled a trail of smoke, his eyes flickering with amusement.
"Probably around the time Saint Shaldes was mauled to death by that Sea King... give or take."
Momonga paled.
"If you're interested in awakening it yourself," Darren added lightly, "I might know a shortcut."
A foreboding chill ran down Momonga’s spine.
Still, curiosity won out.
"What shortcut?"
Darren flicked a coin into the air.
Mid-spin, the coin morphed.
Its surface rippled like water before twisting and hardening into a gleaming silver dagger. Razor-edged. Point first to the heavens.
"Kill a Celestial Dragon," he said, like he was ordering coffee.
Momonga nearly choked.
His face twitched violently, a cluster of veins popping along his forehead.
"You're not serious."
Darren shrugged.
"Maybe. It's just a theory—but I’d say it has merit."
"Wouldn’t work on pirates, of course. Most of them already live without limits. But for Marines? Killing a 'god' would shake the very core of their indoctrination."
"Because at its essence, Conqueror's Haki is just the projection of one’s will. And nothing stimulates willpower like a moment of utter rebellion."
"Extreme stress, not physical—but spiritual."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting.
"From the moment we put on this uniform, we're trained to follow orders. To uphold justice. But every one of us knows the truth..."
"We don't serve justice. We serve the World Government."
"And at the top of that structure sit the Celestial Dragons."
His voice dropped lower, silk wrapping around steel.
"So tell me, Momonga—what’s more thrilling for a Marine than killing the very gods who command him?"
"Imagine their faces, twisted in agony. Imagine them kneeling, begging for mercy. Stripped of dignity, stripped of divinity."
"Wouldn't you like to see it?"
Momonga recoiled.
The smile Darren gave him was sharp, almost playful.
He burst out laughing. "Hahahahaha!"
Momonga rolled his eyes. "You bastard. You really are the devil."
"No wonder that Doflamingo brat is completely under your thumb. I’m starting to suspect your Devil Fruit lets you mess with people's minds."
He shivered involuntarily.
He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but for a moment—a single terrifying moment—he had been tempted.
The blade in the air shimmered once more.
Then it melted back into a coin.
Perfect. Identical to the one it had been.
Darren caught it, then placed it gently on the desk.
"Whether it’s real or not, the human heart is simple."
"Everyone has a weakness. A desire."
"Money, power, status, women, fame, addiction... violence is crude."
"But breaking someone’s will? That takes precision."
He stood, eyes distant.
"And the desire to destroy beautiful things—that's one of the most universal of all."
"Even Marines feel it."
"We might be sworn to protect, but we’re still human."
He flicked ash into a tray.
"When you look at something truly magnificent, you feel awe. You want to preserve it. But another voice, deep in the shadows of your heart..."
"It whispers, 'What if I destroy it?'"
"Hence, all the tragic tales of love that turns to murder."
He turned to Momonga, smiling.
"And what is the most sacred thing in this world? The most divine, the most untouchable?"
"The World Government. The Celestial Dragons."
"Imagine a day when the people of this world—instead of fearing them—start to look at them differently."
"What a beautiful day that would be."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 75: Encirclement
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"You really are insane..."
Momonga couldn’t help but let out a wry smile as he listened to Darren’s audacious words.
"Are you sure I’m the one you should be saying this to?"
Darren gave a quiet chuckle.
"Why not? Ever since the day you said you'd come with me, I knew you had it in you."
"The World Government, with its centuries of propaganda and indoctrination, has carved up this sea into rigid hierarchies. The Celestial Dragons sit high above, puppeteering the world. But times change, and with them rise those strong enough to challenge the old order. That kind of ideology... it’s bound to collapse."
He leaned back in his chair, the motion graceful, as he lifted a wine glass and took a slow sip.
"Of course, this is just a theory. I’ll need more data, more examples to confirm it."
Momonga shifted uncomfortably under Darren’s half-smiling, unreadable gaze.
"You’re using me as a test subject, aren’t you?"
Darren laughed.
"Isn’t your name ‘Flying Squirrel’? Sounds like fate already chose your role as the lab rat." (Momonga’s name in Chinese is 鼯鼠 (wúshǔ), which literally means “Flying Squirrel.”)
Momonga: …
Darren burst into louder laughter at Momonga’s face, which looked like he’d just swallowed something vile.
After a long moment, Darren sobered slightly and spoke again, more seriously:
"I’m not entirely joking. I’m not comfortable leaving the North Blue in anyone else’s hands."
"Now that I’m heading to Marineford, someone has to take charge here—and that someone is you, Momonga."
His tone turned steely.
"Doflamingo may be playing nice after our last ‘conversation,’ but a snake doesn’t shed its ambition that easily."
"The Germa are still a useful piece on the board. Stir the pot between the two of them. Let the North Blue Marines play mediator. We don’t need to show our hand. When the house joins the game, the players fold."
"But all the politics and scheming... it means nothing without strength to back it."
Momonga nodded deeply, his voice resolute.
"Don’t worry. Not a day goes by that I neglect my training."
Darren gave a slow nod.
Just then, the urgent chirping of a Den Den Mushi sliced through the air.
"Buru buru... buru buru..."
Both men turned toward the desk, where a military-issue transponder snail blinked.
"Darren here."
He reached out, voice calm but alert.
"Darren, it’s me."
The stern voice of Admiral Sengoku came through, heavy with concern.
"Admiral Sengoku. What’s the situation?"
Darren exchanged a glance with Momonga, tension instantly rising. According to the last intel, Sengoku was supposed to be coordinating with the CP to capture Byrnndi World—the so-called World Destroyer.
"The operation to take down Byrnndi World hit a snag. His bounty increase made him paranoid. Now he’s gone to ground somewhere in the North Blue. We’ve already sealed the only route into the Grand Line."
On the other end, Sengoku’s tone was like ink pressed too hard—thick, tight, and smudged with frustration.
"Darren, you’ve worked the North Blue for years. You have connections. I need you to find out where World is hiding."
Darren raised an eyebrow.
After he’d taken the fall for Saint Shaldes, Byrnndi World’s bounty had skyrocketed from 200 million to 400 million berries. And apparently, that was enough to rattle even a legend.
"Admiral Sengoku, using the North Blue fleet and my network isn’t a problem."
"But I need to know—have you already engaged World again?"
Sengoku’s reply was sharp, immediate.
"You’re trying to assess how violently he might retaliate, aren’t you?"
Sharp as ever.
"Yes. If he’s wounded, there’s a chance he’ll lash out—not just at us, but civilians too."
There was a pause.
"We’ve clashed a few times already... and yes, he’s injured."
Darren smiled slowly.
"Understood, Admiral. I’ll begin mobilizing the search right away."
A gift-wrapped merit mission—one he wouldn’t miss.
The North Blue was locked down. With today’s sailing tech, there was no way for World to cross the Calm Belt into the New World. Which meant...
A game of cat and mouse in a closed arena.
Byrnndi World—once compared to Whitebeard and Roger.
Darren wouldn’t pass up the chance to measure just how far he still had to go.
---
Meanwhile.
North Blue.
Rubeck Island, Port District.
A scorched and battered pirate ship drifted into the harbor.
At its prow stood a massive, iron-bodied man with arms crossed.
He wore a horned helm, sported a beard tinged green, and his pale green eyes gleamed with cruelty through a haze of pain.
Byrnndi World.
Blood-soaked bandages wrapped his chest.
"Tch... Brought down in a sewer like a rat... Damn that sneaky little monkey..."
He touched the wound on his chest—scorched by a laser beam. Though the bleeding had stopped, the pain throbbed beneath the gauze.
No one had expected that towering Rear Admiral to be such a rat-faced bastard, landing a cheap shot while he and Sengoku went head-to-head.
"World... Are you all right?"
A frail, hunched old man hobbled over, an IV bottle dangling from one arm. His face was lined with age, voice little more than a whisper.
Byojack—the vice-captain and strategist of the World Pirates. More than that, he was the older brother World had followed all his life.
World’s grim face cracked into a clumsy grin.
"I’m fine, big bro."
They’d grown up with nothing but each other, dreaming of one day circling the globe in a legendary adventure.
Byojack gave him a worried glance, lips parted, but said nothing in the end.
"So, you’re sure the North Blue’s biggest underworld broker is based on this island? That guy called Doflamingo...?"
World narrowed his eyes, scanning the bustling island ahead.
Byojack nodded weakly.
"Yes. The Donquixote Family is the largest mafia in the North Blue now. They’re so entrenched that even the Marines tread carefully around them."
"But World... Are you sure about this?"
"There’s still time to turn back."
World burst out laughing.
"Big bro, our dream of sailing the world—it’s far from over!"
"The World Pirates’ grand adventure won’t end in this tiny sea!"
He raised a fist, aura flaring.
"Go find that kid named Doflamingo. We’ll take from him the power to bring the Marine to its knees!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
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Chapter 76: The Underworld King?
Chapter Text
Rubeck Island.
Donquixote Family Headquarters.
In the grand hall of the estate, a breeze stirred the curtains by the windows, drawing ripples in the fabric like waves on a still pond.
The open glass panes creaked softly in the wind. Dust danced lazily in sunbeams.
On a plush leather sofa, Doflamingo reclined in a white shirt, his head tilted back, a book covering his face.
"No... no... NO!!"
Suddenly, he jolted violently from sleep, lurching forward with ragged gasps, his forehead beaded with cold sweat.
Breathing heavily, his eyes beneath the sunglasses were bloodshot and wild. He snatched a bottle of red wine from the side table and downed it in one savage gulp.
Glug... glug...
The crimson wine flowed down his throat and spilled over his collar, soaking his white shirt in dark stains. He didn’t seem to notice.
"Doffy..."
At some point, Trebol and the others had entered, watching as Doflamingo shakily lit a cigar, their eyes shadowed with concern.
"I’m fine..."
After a few deep drags, Doflamingo waved them off, slowly regaining composure.
The same dream again.
Burning walls. The fury of the rabble. His father’s sobs. And that searing pain...
"How’s business lately?"
Compared to the brash and reckless youth who’d first come to the North Blue, Doflamingo now bore a colder, more mature air.
He’d grown taller—ten centimeters at least. His sharp features, slicked-back blond hair, and the chill in his voice now exuded the detached pride of an underworld king.
Trebol twirled his staff excitedly, mucus dangling from his nose as he gestured wildly:
"I’m tellin’ ya... after cleanin’ house the past few months, the Donquixote Family’s taken over almost every underground racket in the North Blue!"
"We’re the undisputed kings of the underworld now!"
Diamante chimed in with equal excitement:
"It’s all been too easy! No one’s been able to stop our rise! At this rate, we’ll have business reaching the Grand Line before the year’s out!"
Pica shrieked with laughter:
"Even the arrogant kings and nobles of the North Blue wag their tails like mutts when they see us! Doffy, you should’ve seen their faces—hilarious!"
Hearing his inner circle speak with such pride and hope, Doflamingo’s dark mood began to lift.
He licked his dry lips, a feral grin spreading across his face.
"The North Blue is just the first step. Once we’ve built up enough capital, we’ll leave this place."
"I can feel it... a new era is coming."
His fist clenched. Behind the cold glint of his sunglasses, a storm was brewing.
A subtle, immense pressure radiated from him. The pink feathers of his coat rustled despite the still air.
Trebol and the others stared, their eyes filled with awe and fanatic reverence.
They had worried that after bending the knee to that Marine, their young master would lose his edge.
But clearly, that hadn’t happened.
If anything, he was even more terrifying than before.
"But Young Master," Vergo’s voice cut in, low and rough. He’d been silent till now.
"The taxes the Marines are taking... isn’t it too much? We’ve built this vast network, yet over half the profits are going to the North Blue Marines."
Doflamingo’s glare silenced him instantly.
"Some money we simply can’t keep. Without the Marines’ protection, our business would never have flourished this smoothly."
Smoke from his cigar curled around his face, casting deep shadows.
"Just wait. Darren won’t stay in the North Blue forever..."
A sly, disdainful smirk crept across his lips.
"He thinks he’s got me on a leash. But everyone slips eventually."
Trebol and the others shared knowing grins.
Yes—this was their true king.
A man who would never submit.
But then—
BOOM!!
The conference hall exploded like it had been hit by a meteor. Walls crumbled under a thunderous shockwave.
A roaring storm of dust and debris engulfed the room, flinging Trebol and the others into the ruins with bone-shattering force. Blood splattered as they slammed into walls.
"Barorororo!!! Where is that brat Doflamingo!? Get out here and face me!!"
A hoarse, brutal laugh echoed through the smoke.
Covered in dust and shock, the Donquixote officers stared in disbelief at the hulking figure striding from the wreckage, horned helm gleaming.
"Who the hell are you!?"
"How dare you break into the Donquixote Family’s base?!"
"You’ve got a death wish!!"
Roars of rage erupted as they leapt toward him with their attacks.
But they never even saw him move.
A blur.
Then—
CRASH!!
Their bodies flew like cannonballs, smashing through wall after wall as if struck by a freight train.
A storm of rubble followed.
WHOOSH!!
A high-pitched crack of air.
SLASH!!
Threads shot from Doflamingo’s hands—razor-sharp, cutting through rock and floor as they slashed toward the intruder.
Doflamingo had finally made his move.
But—
CLANG!!
A screech like metal-on-metal. Sparks flew where the threads struck the man’s chest.
Doflamingo’s pupils shrank.
A black, gleaming sheen coated the man’s torso—an invisible armor reflecting a ghostly glint.
"Armament Haki..."
Before the words had even left his lips, the man vanished.
THUD!!
A heavy fist slammed into Doflamingo’s gut. His body folded inward, eyes bulging, mouth agape.
A giant hand seized his blond hair, yanking his head up.
A face emerged—rough, merciless, cruel.
"You’re Doflamingo, huh?"
Byrnndi World sneered down at the bleeding warlord.
"Word is, you control all the arms trafficking in the North Blue. That true?"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 77: You Want to Blow Up the World?
Chapter Text
"Yeah, and what if I do!?"
Doflamingo's golden hair was nearly ripped from his scalp, but the pain only stoked the flames in his blood. His bloodshot eyes burned with vicious fury.
His right hand curled into a claw. With a flick from below, razor-sharp strings shot up with a shhkk!—slashing across the ground, aiming straight for Byrnndi World’s groin.
But World’s lips curled into a mocking grin. He didn’t dodge. Instead, he dropped his weight and lifted a leg. His shin, wrapped in pitch-black Armament Haki, collided head-on with the nearly invisible threads.
CLASH!!
A shower of sparks burst forth. World didn't hesitate. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, he lunged forward—his massive, obsidian fist crashing into Doflamingo’s throat.
"Guh—!"
The young warlord gagged, vomiting a mouthful of blood. Two broken teeth spun through the air.
"Damn you!! I’m Doflamingo!!"
His scream was hoarse, as if scorched by fire. His pride refused to crumble, his eyes ablaze with unyielding wrath.
Veins bulged along his fingers. He twisted his hand violently.
Forked strings shot out at point-blank range, aimed at World’s neck.
"Flap Thread!"
He’s fast… damn fast!
World’s pupils contracted, a faint crimson glint flashing deep in his eyes.
Instinctively, he tilted his head. The threads whistled past his cheek, slicing a shallow wound from jaw to neck.
Doflamingo froze.
By the time he blinked, the hulking pirate was already gone.
"You’re not bad, kid. You might just be worthy of calling yourself the king of the North Blue underworld."
World’s wild laugh echoed in his ears as a blast of air came hurtling toward him.
BOOM!!
CRACK! CRACK!
A punch, heavy as a meteor, slammed into Doflamingo’s chest. Bones cracked in sickening succession.
World roared.
BOOM!!
A second wave of Armament Haki surged from his body. The impact exploded against Doflamingo with such overwhelming force that blood erupted in clouds, dyeing his fine white shirt deep crimson.
The ground shattered for a hundred meters around them. The entire Donquixote stronghold crumbled under the force of that one punch.
Amid the swirling dust, Doflamingo collapsed to his knees. His pupils shook violently. His legs gave out beneath him.
He clutched his abdomen with trembling hands, gasping like a suffocating fish.
A hopeless shadow consumed his vision.
The gap between them—was crushing.
This man’s power was despair incarnate.
"Alright, that’s enough fun."
World glanced around at the wrecked estate, plucked an unbroken bottle of wine from a shattered table, and popped it open with his thumb.
He guzzled two mouthfuls, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned.
"Kid, you’ve heard of me, haven’t you? I’m here to talk business."
"Business? This is how you start a negotiation?"
Doflamingo, pale and trembling, wiped the blood from his lips and glared up at the towering pirate.
"Barorororo! What’d you expect!? I’m a pirate! I don’t do tea parties with little brats like you!"
World laughed uproariously.
"What, you thought I’d knock politely, shake your hand, and exchange pleasantries?"
"Listen up, kid. Since your Donquixote Family runs all the underground arms trade in the North Blue, I’ll get straight to the point."
He pressed a hand to the bloodstained bandages on his chest. A cruel grin twisted his face.
"I need weapons. Lots of them. And a cannon—a massive one. Bigger than anything ever built."
A giant cannon...?
Doflamingo’s pupils shrank.
Information about the man before him flooded his mind.
Byrnndi World, the "World Destroyer." Bounty: 400 million berries. A legendary pirate. A user of the Moa Moa no Mi.
With his Devil Fruit power, he could multiply the size and speed of objects manyfold. Even a flintlock pistol in his hands could rival the firepower of a Marine battleship.
He’d flattened towns, obliterated ships, destroyed anything in his path without mercy.
And now—he wanted to build a cannon beyond any known scale?
Enhanced by the Moa Moa no Mi, such a weapon could probably wipe an entire island off the map in an instant.
"What are you planning? Blow up Marineford? Or Mary Geoise?"
Looking at World’s twisted, crazed smile, Doflamingo felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"That’s none of your concern, little Doffy."
World chuckled darkly.
"You just build what I want. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong."
Doflamingo raised a brow, about to retort—
WHAM!
World raised his boot and stomped down hard on his head, slamming his face into the ground.
The floor shattered beneath him, cracks webbing outward.
Doflamingo’s eyes went bloodshot. He clenched his teeth.
"Understand me, little Doffy?"
World sneered, grinding his heel into Doflamingo’s skull, the pressure splintering the stone beneath.
"Don’t worry. I play fair. Business is business."
"Your life... that’s your payment."
He snorted.
"You have three days."
As his voice faded, the pressure on Doflamingo’s skull vanished.
He raised his head.
World was gone. Only rubble and ruin remained.
Blood from his brow blurred his vision.
"Damn it...!!"
Doflamingo trembled. Then, like a wounded beast, he let out a roar.
He clawed at the shattered ground, his face twisted with rage.
Veins bulged on his forehead like writhing worms.
"Doffy..."
Trebol and the others approached cautiously, their bodies broken, their breaths shallow.
None dared to speak too loudly.
"Hehhahaha..."
Suddenly, Doflamingo burst into hysterical laughter.
His whole body shook. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Interesting... interesting... this is getting good."
He slowly pulled out a transponder snail.
The glint in his sunglasses turned murderous.
A military-issue Den Den Mushi.
He’d never thought he’d dial this number.
He had been wrong.
Buru buru... buru buru...
The ring echoed through the ruins like a blade scraping glass.
Sunlight streamed through the shattered roof. Dust circled the golden-haired boy born of the Celestial Dragons.
Click!
"It’s me."
A deep voice answered.
Doflamingo knelt in silence for a long moment.
"Godfather... Byrnndi World came to me."
His head bowed low.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 78: The Baptism Ritual
Chapter Text
"Godfather... Byrnndi World came to me."
Darren froze mid-puff, the cigar hovering between his fingers as his expression twisted into something unreadable.
He had just received orders from Sengoku to track down Byrnndi World—and now, not even two minutes later, the infamous pirate had marched straight to his godson’s doorstep?
Across the desk, Momonga blinked in disbelief. His lip twitched, and only when the ember of his cigar almost singed his lip did he jolt fully back to awareness.
Their eyes met. It felt absurdly convenient.
"What does he want?"
Darren exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his mind already racing.
"Weapons. A huge stockpile of them."
Doflamingo’s voice crackled through the Den Den Mushi, taut with fury:
"That lunatic nearly razed Rubeck Island to the ground. He gave me three days—three—to build him a supercannon."
A supercannon...
Darren’s pupils narrowed. A dangerous light flickered deep in his eyes.
"So Sengoku really backed him into a corner..."
He muttered, brows furrowing in contemplation.
"Is he injured?"
On the other end, Doflamingo supported himself with bloodied hands, struggling to stay upright. His voice rasped:
"Yeah."
A long pause. Then—
"Godfather, what should I do? If that man gets his hands on something like a supercannon... with that Devil Fruit of his—"
"Then give it to him."
Darren’s interruption came with a calm, almost cheerful tone.
"Give him everything. Guns, bombs, cannons—whatever he wants. If he thinks he can swallow it all, let him. The more, the better."
Doflamingo fell silent.
Before he could question it, Darren continued:
"That’s how we’ll handle this. Doffy... the fact that you called me first—I appreciate that."
A cold smile tugged at Darren’s lips.
"Don’t involve yourself further with Byrnndi World. If he asks for weapons, supply them. That’s all."
"As for the damage to Rubeck... rest assured, he will pay for it."
"And remember this, Doffy—insults come unannounced. In this world, you either endure them or drown in them. Don’t let revenge blind your judgment."
"But I promise you this..."
Rogers Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, stood from his chair. He reached for the white cloak marked "Justice" hanging on the rack and draped it across his shoulders.
"Byrnndi World will not leave the North Blue alive."
---
Deep into the night.
Waves surged beneath a lightless sky. The stars were faint, swallowed by dark clouds.
Yet the fortresses of Germa 66 blazed with festivity.
Today was the baptism of the Vinsmoke family’s firstborn daughter.
To mark the occasion, King Vinsmoke Judge had organized a resplendent celebration, inviting dignitaries and royal envoys from across the North Blue.
"This is so boring... Do we really have to attend this baptism thing?"
As the Marine warship glided into port, Tokikake yawned openly from the deck.
"This sea isn't just about warfare. It's about diplomacy, too. Germa’s been a consistent partner to the North Blue Marines."
Darren replied with a faint smile.
Both Tokikake and Gion rolled their eyes in unison.
Anyone less familiar with Darren might’ve believed him.
"Captain Darren, His Majesty is waiting for you in the main hall."
A butler in a black tailcoat approached and bowed as Darren descended the gangplank.
"King Judge is gracious as always. It’s an honor to witness the baptism of Princess Vinsmoke."
Darren’s tone was measured and diplomatic.
Following the butler’s lead, the group made their way into Germa’s banquet hall.
It was magnificent—gilded walls, a crystal chandelier glittering from the high vaulted ceiling. Servers in formal wear weaved through the crowd, offering trays of fine wine and exquisite food.
Tokikake noticed them—North Blue’s power players.
There were merchants in embroidered coats, nobles dripping in gold, royals from various kingdoms. Their whispers drifted just under the noise—talk of government policy, trade routes, land acquisitions, noble titles, scandal, and shifts in the balance of power.
Deals were being sealed with handshakes and wine glasses.
Every look, every smile, could shift the region’s fate.
But as Darren and his unit stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted.
All motion and murmur ceased.
Eyes turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. A heavy silence settled.
Unlike the others in ceremonial robes, Darren wore a crisp black suit. His tie hung loose, and over his back, the pristine white cloak of the Marines billowed like a banner.
His dark eyes were unreadable, his features sharp. Slicked-back hair added to the aura—wild and refined, dangerous and magnetic.
Behind him marched twenty elite Marines, deadly and disciplined. They didn’t look like guests.
They looked like apex predators walking into their own territory.
Men regarded him with cautious reverence. Women... with hunger.
"Tch. All show," Tokikake grumbled.
Still, even he couldn’t deny it—Darren radiated dominance.
Men wanted to be him.
Women wanted to be with him.
"Hahaha! Captain Darren, welcome to Germa!"
The tension broke as a voice boomed out cheerfully.
Vinsmoke Judge, clad in regal battle-wear, stepped forward from the crowd, hand outstretched.
"Your presence here for my daughter’s baptism is a great honor."
Darren accepted the handshake with a smile.
"An occasion this meaningful? I wouldn’t miss it for the world."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 79: Seastone, Perhaps?
Chapter Text
Click. Click. Click.
As the two highest-profile figures of the event shook hands with polite smiles, a sea of reporters immediately lifted their cameras. Under the burst of flashing bulbs, photos were snapped in rapid succession.
To the nobles, dignitaries, merchants, and elites attending from all corners of the North Blue, it was perfectly clear who the real stars of the ceremony were.
Germa, of course, needed no introduction.
A militant kingdom where every citizen was a soldier, Germa 66 was a powerhouse of terrifying military science, feared and resented across the sea. Their ambition to dominate the North Blue was no secret—it had haunted the dreams of kings and nobles for years.
In truth, if it hadn’t been for the North Blue Marines stepping in as mediators, Vinsmoke Judge might have already dragged half the sea into endless war.
And then there was Rogers Darren, Captain and Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines.
The man standing quietly beside the king.
Despite being under twenty, everyone in the room knew exactly who held real power in the North Blue.
His fleet was invincible. His personal strength, immeasurable. He cast a shadow long enough to eclipse nations.
"Captain Darren, I hear there’s been some... interesting developments in the North Blue lately."
Vinsmoke Judge accepted a glass of wine from a server and offered one to Darren, speaking in a casual tone that failed to hide its edge.
Darren took the glass, swirling the blood-red wine before sipping.
"Oh? And what aspect might Your Majesty be referring to?"
Judge frowned.
A man of science, not politics, he had little patience for veiled words. He believed in brute force—overwhelming power to crush enemies. These little dances of language annoyed him.
"Captain Darren, you know exactly what I mean."
He exhaled sharply, swallowing his irritation.
"The underground world of the North Blue has been overturned by your Marines. Then, in less than half a month, some punk named Doflamingo swoops in with his family and seizes control of the underworld."
"There are... rumors."
"That he’s working with you."
"The Donquixote Family’s sudden rise is already interfering with Germa 66’s expansion."
Darren gently swirled his wine, watching the crimson liquid lap against the crystal like a tide.
"King Judge, you should know how I view the underworld."
He smiled thinly.
"So long as peace is maintained and the rules are followed, I see no reason to micromanage."
"Doflamingo might be young, but he’s capable. I respect that."
"As for Germa’s expansion..."
He tapped his glass lightly against Judge’s.
"If I’m not mistaken, Germa’s largest trade partner right now is the North Blue Marine fleet. Wouldn’t you agree?"
Judge went silent.
After a few moments, a thin smile returned to his face.
"You’re right. Peace and stability in the North Blue must come first."
A bell rang gently, interrupting the conversation.
"And now, please welcome the Vinsmoke family’s first daughter—the baptism ceremony will now begin!"
All eyes turned toward the grand entrance.
A pale, graceful woman in a flowing white gown entered, pushing a baby carriage flanked by Germa guards.
She wore no flashy jewelry, only light makeup, her figure slender and her demeanor gentle.
Queen Sora of the Vinsmoke family.
So this is Sanji’s mother… she really does look gentle.
Darren thought quietly.
"Captain Darren, it’s an honor to meet you."
Queen Sora approached, executing a noble’s curtsey with elegant ease.
Darren stepped forward, bowed slightly, and kissed her hand with the formality of a knight.
"I’ve long heard of Queen Sora’s beauty and grace. I see now the tales were true."
He peered into the carriage and smiled.
"This little one must be Princess Reiju, the first daughter of the Vinsmoke line. My congratulations to you both."
"As a personal gift, I’ve prepared a small token for young Reiju. I hope you’ll accept it."
He nodded to Momonga, who stepped forward and handed a thick envelope to Judge’s butler.
Though its contents were hidden, the densely written list inside made clear this was no ‘small’ gift.
"Thank you, Captain Darren," Sora said warmly. "May the friendship between Germa and the North Blue Marines endure."
She raised her glass.
Darren clinked his against hers and drank.
The baptism began.
Baby Reiju, pink-cheeked and serene, was gently placed into a warm wooden basin under the watch of the gathered guests. As the rite concluded, applause swept through the room, and the banquet began in full.
"May I hold her?"
Darren asked with a smile, watching Reiju nestled in her mother’s arms.
Sora hesitated only briefly.
"Of course."
She lifted the baby carefully and passed her to him.
Darren accepted her with quiet reverence. A pink-haired, curly-browed infant who sucked calmly on her finger.
This was Sanji’s sister. The future "Poison Pink"—Vinsmoke Reiju.
He gently pinched her cheek, eyes narrowing slightly.
Yes... the modifications were already there.
Judge had clearly begun altering his bloodline with genetic manipulation.
"She will be the pride of Germa 66."
Judge approached, his voice heavy.
Darren glanced at him and smiled faintly.
"I believe it."
He returned the baby to her cradle, tucking the blanket softly around her.
Then, casually—almost as an afterthought—he asked:
"King Judge, I’d like to discuss a new kind of business."
Darren brushed Reiju’s tiny bangs aside, voice low.
"Does Germa 66... have access to seastone?"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 80: I Will Lead the North Blue Fleet into Battle
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Three days passed swiftly.
"Admiral Sengoku, all preparations are complete."
"In three hours, our target—Byrnndi World—will arrive on an island north of Rubeck. It’s uninhabited. I recommend launching the operation there."
Inside the Battleship’s cabin, Sengoku listened to the calm, firm voice coming through the military Den Den Mushi. His brows began to furrow.
"Darren, can you confirm the intel’s accuracy?"
"World has been slipping through our fingers for days. Even the World Government’s CP units haven’t been able to track the World Pirates. If this intel is false, and our operation is exposed, all our efforts will go to waste."
He glanced at Borsalino beside him—who was picking his nails with a bored expression—and sighed.
"You can rest assured, Admiral," Darren replied with steady confidence. "The source is reliable. According to my information, Byrnndi World recently acquired a massive cache of smuggled arms through underground channels in the North Blue. The deal will happen on that island."
Hearing Darren’s unwavering tone, Sengoku allowed a small smile to surface.
"Good. I knew I wasn’t wrong about you."
He paused.
"Do you have any suggestions for the operation?"
Darren replied, voice laced with feigned humility:
"Admiral Sengoku, I’m only a Captain. A full-scale military operation against a pirate of World’s caliber... it’s not really my place to offer tactical advice."
"Don’t give me that crap!" Sengoku snapped, chuckling. "If you’ve got a plan, say it now. If this mission succeeds, you’ll be properly credited."
"Besides, I already submitted your promotion application. Once it clears review, you’ll officially become a Commodore. That rank is more than sufficient to lead an operation of this scale."
Sengoku wasn’t naive.
Known throughout the seas as the "Strategist Admiral," his political instincts and military cunning were second to none.
The Celestial Dragon Shaldes incident had forced Byrnndi World into retreat. Now, the pirate was more cautious and far more dangerous.
Even with the Marines and CP’s combined intelligence network, World’s whereabouts remained unknown. Sengoku had leveraged every political connection he had, reaching out to royals and ministers across the North Blue—and still found nothing.
And yet, in just two days, Darren had produced a precise time and location.
That alone spoke volumes.
An absurd idea took root in Sengoku’s mind.
Could it be...?
"Darren! That arms deal—did you set it up?!"
Sengoku’s voice turned hard.
A moment of silence.
Then came Darren’s calm, smiling reply:
"Admiral Sengoku’s foresight is truly remarkable. Nothing gets past you."
"Yes. I arranged the deal."
"In the past few days, World’s been recruiting and arming himself like mad. He even commissioned the creation of a massive cannon. He intends to use it to destroy your fleet."
BANG!
Sengoku slammed a fist into the desk. His face was dark, veins showing in his temples.
"That bastard! Does he think he can blast Marineford off the map?!"
Sengoku, who had clashed with World several times, knew just how devastating the Moa Moa no Mi could be.
If World got his hands on a supercannon, there was no telling what he might do. He’d level Marineford in one shot without hesitation.
But at least now they had forewarning.
Sengoku exhaled slowly.
"You didn’t really give him that cannon, did you? Darren... I trust you wouldn’t do something that reckless."
"No, Admiral. I gave it to him."
Silence.
Then—
"—YOU DID WHAT?!"
Sengoku sprang from his chair, voice booming so loudly it nearly shattered the cabin ceiling.
Even Borsalino winced, rubbing his ear.
"Are you insane?!"
Smoke practically poured from Sengoku’s nostrils as he stared at the transponder snail.
"Please, Admiral. Hear me out. I had my reasons."
Darren’s voice remained unbothered.
"World seems unhinged, but he’s extremely hard to bait. He has ambitions to destroy the world—but he’s no fool."
"Without a prize worth chasing, he would never take our bait. Especially not while injured."
"This may be the only chance we’ll ever get to trap him in the North Blue."
"If he escapes to the Grand Line or the New World, hunting him down later will be ten times harder—maybe more."
Sengoku listened. His brow remained furrowed, fingers massaging his temples.
"Darren... this is reckless."
"No, Admiral. Trust me."
There was something unshakable in Darren’s tone.
"I wouldn’t hand him a weapon like that unless I was confident I could deal with the consequences."
"And regarding this operation... I have a proposal."
A pause.
Then, clearly and firmly:
"I want to command this mission myself."
"I will lead the North Blue fleet into battle!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Translator’s Note:
Thank you so much for reading. If you happen to notice any mistakes, awkward phrasing, or unclear translations, feel free to let me know. I’m always working to improve the quality and clarity of this adaptation. Your feedback is deeply appreciated—and truly helps this translation get better with each chapter.
Chapter 81: Command, Secured
Chapter Text
Somehow, the battleship cabin had gone quiet.
Even Borsalino stopped picking his nails. He looked up with mild interest, the corners of his lips curling into a bemused smirk.
So Darren… was asking the Marine's top brass for operational command?
"You want command of this mission?" Sengoku raised an eyebrow, his tone stern.
"Yes, Admiral Sengoku."
The North Blue Commander’s reply came without hesitation—firm, decisive:
"I have absolute confidence in my abilities."
"I know the North Blue better than anyone—the sea routes, the towns, the terrain around the target island, troop positions—everything."
"I arranged this arms deal myself. That alone justifies my lead."
"Most importantly, the North Blue Fleet will serve as the main force in this operation. Under my direct command, their effectiveness will be maximized."
Darren knew this was the moment.
In the North Blue, he had learned one lesson very well: authority is not handed out—it must be taken.
If you want respect, you demand it. Sometimes, the only way to earn a superior’s regard… is to challenge his control.
Sengoku’s deep eyes glinted subtly.
"Are you fully aware of Byrnndi World’s strength?"
"I am, Admiral. He’s a pirate who once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with legends like Roger and Whitebeard. I don’t take him lightly."
"But this is war. And victory in war isn’t determined by strength alone."
Sengoku was silent for a moment, then added:
"If you fail—if your leadership results in a disaster—it could end your entire military career."
"I understand. If I fail, I’ll accept full disciplinary action from HQ."
That answer made Sengoku’s eyes sharpen.
He turned his gaze to the man beside him.
"Rear Admiral Borsalino, what’s your opinion?"
Borsalino scratched his chin, pretending to ponder deeply before replying in his usual languid drawl:
"Hmm… I think it wouldn’t hurt to let Captain Darren try."
"He’s done exceptionally well as North Blue’s commander—both administratively and militarily."
That final sentence shattered the last doubts in Sengoku’s mind.
True, if any other officer had asked to command such a critical mission, he would’ve refused without hesitation.
But Darren… was different.
His record spoke for itself. Though he’d never trained at the Marine Officer Academy, his strategic mind and command instincts were exceptional.
And more importantly, he had guts.
To stake his own fleet against Byrnndi World, a 400-million bounty pirate, and volunteer to lead the charge?
That took more than talent. That took steel.
"Very well. Temporary command of the operation is yours."
Sengoku’s voice came slowly, after careful thought.
"But be warned—the battlefield is unpredictable. If something goes wrong, I’ll take over personally."
"Understood, Admiral."
——
On the other end of the line, standing atop a battleship’s prow, Darren let the wind catch his Justice cloak as he smiled faintly.
He pocketed the transponder snail and looked out over the sea.
Warships were pouring into the harbor from North Blue’s 321st branch, forming a precise arrowhead formation at his command.
On the docks, Marines worked with silent discipline, loading crates of munitions, securing cannons, and prepping the fleet for war.
The rhythm was solemn, mechanical, efficient.
"Wait—he really agreed?!"
A voice cried out behind him.
Darren turned to see Tokikake’s stunned face.
"Sengoku actually handed you command of the operation to take down Byrnndi World?!"
Darren lit a cigar, gave a wink.
"Headquarters knows how to recognize talent."
"Tch—damn it! Why not me!?"
Tokikake snarled, practically grinding his teeth.
Watching Darren snag an opportunity like this was somehow more painful than death.
It was Byrnndi World.
A legendary pirate with a 400 million bounty!
Over the years, even Marine titans like Admiral Sengoku, Garp, and the former Admiral Black Arm Zephyr had failed to bring him down.
Now, with the Grand Line sealed, World was finally cornered in the North Blue.
This was a once-in-a-generation opportunity.
And it had fallen into Darren’s hands.
"Are you really planning to command this fight? World isn’t like your average pirate."
Gion’s voice cut in, her expression unreadable.
Darren met her gaze with a grin:
"Don’t worry. I’m a scoundrel. A disgrace. What’s the saying again? Ah, right—villains always live a long time."
Gion’s jaw clenched.
"I’m not worried for you! I’m worried you’ll botch the mission and get the entire North Blue Fleet wiped out!"
"You’d throw away all of Admiral Sengoku’s work!"
Darren just shrugged.
"Who knows?"
"This is Byrnndi World. Even a flawless plan could fail."
"Of course, if you think you can do better, I’m happy to hand over command. Interested?"
Gion pressed her lips together.
No. The fleet wouldn’t obey her.
And honestly, facing World and his crew—she had no answers.
The Moa Moa no Mi’s destructive potential couldn’t be countered with tactics alone.
She looked sidelong at Darren, who gazed out to sea with a calm smile.
Could he really pull it off?
A spark of curiosity lit quietly in her chest.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 82: The Fangs of the North Blue Fleet
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Darren paid no attention to the flickers of doubt behind Tokikake’s exaggerated expression or the flickering tension in Gion’s eyes.
He stood silently at the prow of the lead warship like a monolith carved by wind and war, eyes narrowed against the salt-laced breeze. Below him stretched the harbor, the air thick with the brine of sea spray and the metallic tang of cannon oil. Ten warships gleamed like sharks in formation, their decks bristling with freshly sharpened armaments and ranks of North Blue Marines standing stiff and silent.
They were ready.
But Darren—he wasn’t calm. Beneath the surface, his heart beat steady but hard, like the countdown of a ticking fuse.
He knew who he was going after.
Byrnndi World—the World Destroyer. A pirate whose legend eclipsed most. A madman with power vast enough to shatter cities. One wrong step in this operation, and not only would this fleet perish—so would Darren’s name, his plan, his future.
"Darren, all ships are fully prepped."
The voice came from behind—grounded, clear. Darren turned his head slightly to see Momonga approaching with military precision, his expression shadowed with a rare heaviness.
Darren gave a single nod. "Excellent work."
Momonga lingered. For a moment, he seemed torn between protocol and unease. Finally, he spoke.
"We made it in time. All ten warships selected for the mission have undergone complete refitting through Germa 66. Light alloy keels, magnetic-stabilized reinforcements..."
His brows furrowed.
"But why spend so much to retrofit? You could have built new ships for the same cost—or more ships, even."
Darren chuckled under his breath, eyes never leaving the harbor.
"Ships aren’t about numbers."
He paused.
"You’ll understand soon."
He turned. "What’s the latest from Doflamingo?"
"No change. The meeting is still on schedule. No indication that the World Pirates suspect a trap."
"And the payload?"
"Each ship is armed with ten heavy cannons. Germa has mounted supplementary ballistic launchers onto the hulls. Infantry are geared with standard sabers and rifles—but also stun guns, compact artillery, flamethrowers."
Darren’s lips curled upward.
"Perfect."
Just then—
"Hey! Darren! Are we even going to make it in time?!" Tokikake ran up, breathless, clutching a wrinkled sea chart. His voice cracked with genuine panic. "We’re way more than three hours away—"
"—Far more," Gion said, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Their concern hung in the air like mist.
But Darren didn’t answer.
Instead, he raised one hand.
From the watchtowers, bugle calls erupted—short, rapid-fire blasts that reverberated across the harbor like flares of tension.
Momonga, Gion, and Tokikake turned sharply.
Then they saw it:
The sails across all ten ships were retracting.
"Hold tight."
Darren’s voice was low.
Then—blue lightning crackled along his fingers.
In the blink of an eye, a powerful, invisible wave burst from his body—pulsing like a heartbeat of raw magnetic force.
BOOM!
The decks quaked.
The ships shuddered violently beneath their feet, as if awakening from slumber. Tokikake stumbled, grabbing for the railing.
"No way..." he gasped, staring down.
Momonga’s face paled as realization struck.
Darren turned to them, the wind howling around his cloak like a beast.
"I never said the North Blue Fleet’s power was bound to the sea."
He closed his fist.
BOOOOOOOM!!
The very hull beneath them roared like a living thing. The ocean swelled, vortexes tearing open beneath the ships. Then—
they rose.
No, the sea did not fall.
The ships had taken flight.
Jets of seawater erupted skyward as the North Blue Fleet broke through the surface, ten warships ascending in tight formation, dragged into the sky by a magnetic force bordering on divine.
"AAAAAHHHH!!"
Tokikake screamed as wind ripped across the deck. His face warped under the pressure, eyes bulging in disbelief. He clutched at the mast like a drowning man.
They're flying.
The realization hit like thunder.
Gion stood frozen, knuckles white on the railing. The icy shock in her chest gave way to something else—something molten. Awe. Fury. Excitement.
A flying navy.
The strategic value was immeasurable.
Mobility. Surprise. Detachment from the ocean’s chains. They could strike from angles no enemy could predict.
Above them, the clouds thickened.
She could already imagine Sengoku’s face when he saw this.
Beside her, Momonga gave a helpless, wry laugh.
Of course.
This was it.
This was what Darren had built.
This was the secret he’d poured resources into—quietly, deliberately.
Using the power of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit, Darren had transformed ten warships into airborne titans—levitating not by wind, but by force.
"Soldiers."
His voice pierced the sky.
All heads turned.
Darren stood tall, hands behind his back, the wind biting at his black suit and white cloak. His gaze swept across his fleet like a hawk surveying its dominion.
His smile was cold, radiant.
"We have one objective."
He lifted his hand.
"—To hunt down Byrnndi World."
The sky stilled.
Then—
"KILL!!"
The roar of ten ships and a thousand voices shook the heavens.
Back at the Marine 321st Branch, thousands of stationed soldiers watched in silence, eyes shining with shock and burning pride.
They raised their arms and saluted in unison, water raining down from the sky like a storm of consecration.
They knew one thing:
No matter how this battle ended, the world would remember the day the North Blue bared its fangs—and took to the skies.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
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Chapter 83: Byojack’s Concern
Chapter Text
The sky hung low and gray, choked with clouds like ash smeared across the heavens. Heavy snow cascaded from above in sheets, blanketing the sea and distant coastline in ghostly white.
The world felt pale and muffled—as if sound itself had been buried beneath the frost.
Near the island’s shoreline, five pirate ships loomed through the snowfall, their sails fluttering, each bearing the jolly roger of the World Pirates. On their decks stood swarms of rough-cut men, faces twisted with ambition and malice.
“Boss World! After this deal, we’ll finally restock our arms and weapons, right?!”
“Hahahaha! Of course! That Doflamingo brat wouldn’t dare defy the boss!”
“I heard the Donquixote Family controls the entire North Blue’s black market weapons trade... this batch should be the good stuff!”
“Shi-hahaha! When we’re done, the Marines and the World Government’ll be nothing but ash under our firepower!”
Laughter and manic cheers rippled across the decks.
All eyes turned toward the towering man at the lead ship’s prow—arms folded, frame broad as a fortress.
Byrnndi World.
Their captain. Their war god.
The man feared by the Marines and the World Government alike. A pirate whose name stood shoulder to shoulder with legends like Whitebeard and Gol D. Roger.
“Barorororo! That’s right! I’m Byrnndi World! Everything in my path—gets destroyed!”
World cackled with mad pride, glancing at the hunched, frail man perched on his shoulder.
“You agree, don’t you, Brother?”
Byojack, his brother and right hand, nodded slowly. His face was drawn and pallid, an IV drip slung over one arm, the lines of illness etched into his skin.
“Yes... little brother,” he said, voice soft.
World burst into another wave of laughter. Snow gathered like powdered sugar on the horns of his metal helmet.
He scanned the faces of his men—feral, eager, full of hunger for chaos—and his grin only widened. Something uncontainable simmered in his chest.
He still didn’t know why the Marines had doubled his bounty from 200 million to 400 million Berries. Perhaps the Saint Shaldes incident? It didn’t matter.
It had helped him.
A higher bounty meant a louder legend. The more infamous he became, the more like-minded pirates flocked to his banner.
In just half a month in the North Blue, his crew had ballooned from a few hundred to several thousand.
He now commanded five ships.
And this was only the beginning.
Once he returned to the Grand Line—better yet, the New World—dozens more pirate crews would surely pledge themselves to him.
His ambitions stretched far. He didn’t just admire the floating fleet of the Golden Lion—he wanted to surpass it.
“This is a good era...” he murmured, eyes locked on the white-blanketed island ahead.
“Prepare to make landfall.”
The order cut through the wind. Snow twisted through the air like feathers.
The island ahead looked like a ghost town molded from sugar—its outline soft and silent under the snow.
The place for the arms deal.
“Yes, Boss!”
The pirates sprang to action, giddy with anticipation.
Since joining the World Pirates, they’d struggled with limited firepower. This trade could change everything.
Sails were pulled tight, rudders spun. The five ships veered together toward the snowy island, their hulls parting the water like blades.
But then—
“Wait.”
The raspy voice of Byojack sounded from World’s shoulder.
His sickly eyes narrowed as he examined the cove they were about to enter.
The coastline ahead curled like a pouch—tight, enclosed. Five ships packed in together would leave little room to maneuver.
Byojack trembled as the wind sliced through his tattered coat. His body shook.
A coughing fit seized him. His face flushed red as he hacked into his sleeve.
“Cough... cough... World... for safety’s sake, I don’t think we should have all ships dock together.”
“This inlet is too narrow. If the Marines ambush us here... we’ll have no escape.”
World turned his head, gaze unreadable.
His brother had become increasingly cautious ever since his bounty increased. Almost paranoid.
He'd banned docking unless necessary, confiscated all Den Den Mushi aboard their ships, and enforced strict curfews.
It was almost unlike the man he remembered—his once-bold elder now wilted by sickness and worry.
Still...
World thought of his childhood, of the hands that had carried him, protected him, scolded him. Byojack’s body was failing, but his mind... his loyalty...
That hadn’t changed.
“Since it’s your advice, Brother—”
He pointed to one of the ships.
“You lot. Stay offshore. Patrol the perimeter. Wait for my signal.”
He tossed a Den Den Mushi to the nearest pirate aboard the designated ship.
The crew on that vessel groaned in disappointment. Faces fell.
There was no discipline in this lot. They weren’t in it for dreams or freedom—this wasn’t the age of the Pirate King.
They were pirates for loot. For power. For blood.
Even among the same crew, infighting over spoils was common. World didn’t care—he welcomed it. Weaklings had no place by his side.
The pirates knew that whoever landed first would get first pick of the goods.
And those left offshore? They’d get the scraps.
Inferior weapons, if any.
Byrnndi World’s word was law. So they grumbled, muttered curses under their breath—and obeyed.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 84: The First Dream
Chapter Text
Far beyond the storm-swept coast of the target island, a lone Marine warship rocked steadily on the heaving swells of the North Blue.
The sky above was choked with snow-laden clouds, heavy and motionless. Freezing winds whipped across the deck, slicing through uniforms and armor like invisible blades.
"Admiral Sengoku, Byrnndi World has landed on the island. He’s leading a contingent inland toward the rendezvous point."
The voice came from the lookout perched atop the mast, his coat flapping violently in the wind as he lowered his telescope. On the main deck, Admiral Sengoku stood immovable, arms crossed, his white Marine coat billowing behind him like a banner of silent judgment.
"Hmph. Can you make out how many followed him?" Sengoku asked, his tone low but laced with intent.
Through his own reinforced binoculars—the best Marine HQ could offer—he scanned the blurry horizon. All he could see were faint black specks moving in the snowstorm, shadows wading through a curtain of ice.
"Unclear, sir. But from what we can tell, most of his men remained aboard the four docked pirate ships."
Sengoku’s brow twitched.
"Four? Didn’t our last intel confirm five?"
The scout nodded.
"Yes, Admiral. But one vessel did not dock. We’ve lost visual contact."
Nearby, Rear Admiral Borsalino—legs crossed, back half-turned—lazily scraped a fingernail with a penknife.
"Mmm... playing it safe, aren’t they?"
Sengoku didn’t respond to Borsalino’s drawl. His mind was already calculating.
"That’s Byojack’s influence," he murmured.
Sickly, weak in body, but razor-sharp in mind, Byojack—Byrnndi World’s older brother—had long been the unseen hand behind the World Pirates’ most brilliant escapes. While World was a storm, Byojack was the one who read the wind. He had saved their necks more than once.
"He’s the one I worry about most," Sengoku muttered. "World’s power comes from the Moa Moa no Mi—but strategy? That’s his brother’s battlefield."
“Admiral,” a Marine aide approached with haste. “Target confirmed on land. Should we commence the operation?”
Sengoku glanced at Borsalino, who offered only a shrug. The Admiral then reached inside his coat and drew out a sleeping Den Den Mushi. Its shell bore the insignia of North Blue’s command.
He waited.
"Not yet... we move on Captain Darren’s signal."
---
The island was a desolate expanse of rock and frost, a barren plateau smothered in snow. The wind howled like wolves among the crags, and the sky was an iron-grey dome.
Byrnndi World trudged forward, his immense frame swaying like a mountain on legs. Behind him came his pirates—hundreds strong. They moved in staggered lines, some shielding their eyes, others dragging crates or wiping ice from their blades.
Perched on his shoulder was Byojack. He looked skeletal in the folds of a sheepskin cloak, an IV line still trailing from beneath the fabric.
The snow numbed his fingers. The cold burned his lungs.
And something deeper than the frost gnawed at his chest.
"World... something’s wrong. I can feel it."
His voice was soft but brittle, like cracked glass.
Byrnndi World didn’t slow down.
"Barorororo! You always worry too much, Brother. Just wait till we’re armed to the teeth. We’ll be out of here before the wind even changes."
His laugh was full, cruel, and vibrant.
But Byojack didn’t laugh.
"No. I mean it."
He turned his eyes toward the snow-covered cliffs ahead, then to the jagged inlet they’d passed earlier.
"Since we set out, we’ve done nothing but take and kill. Our name alone is stirring fear across the Blue."
World kept walking.
"We didn’t choose the name ‘World Pirates’ to rule, World. We chose it to roam—to see the world. Not to burn it."
World stopped. The snow began to thicken.
The men behind them slowed as well, sensing a change in their captain’s mood.
The air felt heavier. Colder.
"You think I forgot our dream?" World asked, his voice low, devoid of the mocking tone he often wore.
"No. But you did."
Byojack’s voice cracked.
"When was the last time we visited a new island without guns? When did we last smile over a drink and just breathe in the sea air?"
World turned slowly. Snow clung to the sharp ridges of his helmet.
"You don’t dream of seeing the world anymore. You dream of making it kneel."
Byojack swallowed.
"Ever since you got that Devil Fruit… ever since the Moa Moa no Mi made you powerful—you’ve changed."
"Your power multiplies more than mass and speed. It magnifies your rage. Your hunger. Your destruction."
There was silence.
Then World clenched his fists.
"Because they forced me to!"
The shout was so loud it echoed across the cliffs.
His body trembled.
"You think I want this? I have to destroy what stands in our way! The Marines! The Celestial Dragons! The system itself!"
"We need to be feared to be free. That’s the only way they’ll leave us alone."
His eyes flared.
"And I have the power to make it happen!"
He turned away, and with a final glance, he murmured:
"Watch closely, Brother. Because soon, this world will belong to us."
Byojack didn’t answer. He just clutched the edge of his coat tighter, and stared at the back of a man who once dreamed of wonder—but now walked with the weight of a tyrant.
And inside his sickly chest, something broke a little more.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 85: It’s Me
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Snowflakes drifted down like silent omens, veiling the frozen forest in a white shroud. Byrnndi World and his entourage emerged from the treeline, their heavy boots crunching over the snow, and were greeted by a vast, flat expanse of white.
There, in the middle of that ghostly field, stood over a dozen men in jet-black mafia suits—members of the Donquixote Family. Their expressions were tense, guarded. Behind them, wooden crates were stacked high, their corners buried in ice and powder.
World’s lip curled into a sneer, mocking and wild.
"Where is that little rat Doflamingo? What’s the matter? Doesn’t have the guts to come see me face-to-face for such an important deal?"
He chuckled with derision.
"The so-called ‘King of the North Blue Underworld’—hiding in sewers like a coward. Hilarious."
The Donquixote men bit down their fury. One of them stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Lord Doflamingo has other pressing matters. He couldn’t attend in person."
World’s gaze flicked toward him, unimpressed.
"So? Are my goods here or not?"
The mafioso gave a signal. The others moved quickly, hauling crates forward and cracking them open with iron bars. Inside gleamed row upon row of rifles, sabers, and pistols, each pristine and lethal.
"Enough arms to supply 3,000 men. All top-standard."
World’s crew surged forward, ravenous. They tore open crates, pulled out weapons, held up rifles to the light.
"Hah! Now this is quality!"
"These are better than what most allied nations of the World Government carry!"
World laughed with satisfaction. But his eyes gleamed with something darker.
"Where’s the main course?"
The lead Donquixote member gestured. He walked to the edge of the forest and knelt, hands brushing aside snow until they found a tarp handle.
With one swift motion—
Shhhk!—
He peeled back a heavy canvas, revealing a monstrous piece of machinery.
The cannon was pitch black and cold, its barrel over three meters wide and eight meters long. It sat mounted on thick spoked wheels, like an ancient war god waiting to be roused. A dense, burnt-metal stench radiated from its hollow mouth.
World’s pupils dilated.
Whoosh! His figure vanished in an instant, reappearing by the cannon’s side.
He ran a hand over its frame, fingers trembling slightly.
"Where are the shells?"
The Donquixote man revealed another tarp, and under it were massive ammo crates. Inside lay shells nearly as tall as a man.
"This cannon is one-of-a-kind. Built from the ground up. Range over three nautical miles. Paired with those shells, it can sink a battleship in a single shot."
World chuckled low and wicked.
"I don’t trust words. Let’s see it for ourselves."
He hoisted a shell with ease, as if lifting a toy, and loaded it into the cannon.
Fsshhht! A fuse sizzled, a thread of flame dancing in the wind.
Then—
BOOM!!
The world exploded with sound. The blast was deafening. Snow rained from trees, dislodged by the sonic quake. The cannon’s roar echoed for miles.
A black arc tore through the sky. Moments later, the shell slammed into a distant mountaintop.
BOOOOM!!!
A shockwave tore through the earth. Fire engulfed the peak. Avalanches cascaded in every direction. When the smoke cleared, half the mountain was gone.
Everyone stood frozen.
Even Byojack, wide-eyed and breathless, couldn’t speak.
And World—
He threw back his head and roared.
"Barororororo!! YES! This is power! This is what I’ve been craving!"
His silhouette burned red in the firelight, laughter echoing over the snow.
Byojack’s heart sank. And he didn’t even use the Moa Moa no Mi...
Just the cannon alone had that effect.
If enhanced by World’s Devil Fruit—doubling or hundred-folding its destructive power...
It might truly be capable of annihilating an island—or Marineford itself.
World stepped forward and gently patted the cannon’s barrel.
"Doflamingo didn’t disappoint."
The Donquixote man bowed.
"The Donquixote name is ironclad in the North Blue."
World nodded.
"Still... I haven’t tested the rest of the merchandise yet."
The mafioso blinked.
RATATATATAT!!
Gunfire erupted.
Donquixote men dropped like puppets, holes torn through their suits, crimson soaking into the white snow. World’s pirates grinned, rifles smoking in their hands.
"You dare—!"
BANG!
The lead man’s skull cracked sideways. A neat hole bloomed between his eyes. He collapsed, staring up in horror as blood filled his mouth.
"Lord Doflamingo... no... Lord Darren... he won’t forgive you..."
World approached with a musket still smoking. He looked down with cold amusement.
"Doflamingo I’ve heard of. But Darren? Who the hell is that?"
The corpse gave no answer.
World turned to go, but then—
VRRRMMMMM!!!
A sudden sound like tearing metal and thunder screamed through the air.
Something fast. Something inbound.
World’s eyes narrowed.
His body twisted. A palm shot out.
BOOM! The force of his push cracked the snowpack as he slid backward, catching a sleek, blade-like metal surfboard with one hand.
Its tail whipped in the wind.
Then, behind him, came a voice—
Low.
Clear.
Inevitable.
"It’s me."
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading.
This chapter marks the beginning of Darren’s first true battle—
A clash of blood, grit, and survival.
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Chapter 86: Welcome to My Territory
Chapter Text
Byrnndi World slowly turned around—and there stood a tall, imposing figure.
Jet-black hair tousled gently in the snowstorm. His tailored suit clung taut to a well-built frame, exuding a wild and dangerous aura. Behind him, a wide, snow-white cloak billowed violently in the wind.
“…A Marine.”
Byrnndi World narrowed his eyes, and his expression darkened.
With a casual twist of his hand, the sleek metal hoverboard beneath his feet contorted with a screech, warping like a twisted rope.
At the same time, he gently set down Byojack, who had been perched on his shoulder.
The old man limped away on his cane, disappearing into the distance.
Shing—!!
A few hundred meters away, hundreds of pirates froze briefly, then broke into wicked grins. They raised their brand-new weapons in unison, hollow barrels locking firmly onto the silhouette of the Marine officer.
“Darren—no… I’ve heard that name somewhere before…”
Wald squinted at the black-haired Marine before him, and a mocking smirk curled across his lips.
“Ah, I remember now.”
“A so-called ‘big shot’ from the North Blue. Word is, even the World Government’s allied nations in that sea give him a wide berth… The highest-ranking officer in the North Blue Marines—Rogers Darren”
“If I’m not mistaken… that’s you, isn’t it, brat?”
Darren didn’t answer. His eyes briefly flicked to a fallen mafia thug at his feet—eyes glazed, chest still. Dead.
“That’s not how you do business,” he said suddenly.
“…What?” World blinked, his expression lopsided in confusion.
“The North Blue has its own rules. Business has rules. And I don’t take kindly to being stared down by gun barrels.”
The Marine’s face remained impassive as he gazed at the corpse. His voice was calm—eerily calm.
As soon as the words left his mouth—
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack…
Hundreds of pirates flinched as the guns in their hands jolted—ripped from their grips by an invisible force like red-hot iron. They flew from their hands with blinding speed, spinning midair…
…and turned.
All the barrels now pointed back—at their original wielders.
And then—the triggers pulled themselves.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!!
Gunfire erupted. The staccato rhythm of bullets tearing into flesh echoed over the frozen terrain.
The snow-covered ground exploded with countless craters. Scarlet blood bloomed in violent sprays as pirates screamed and twitched, their bodies riddled with bullets.
Byrnndi World’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.
When the storm of bullets ceased…
What was left was a crimson wasteland.
Hundreds of mutilated pirate corpses lay sprawled in grotesque shapes, staining the snow red.
The rifles hovered in the air, still aimed, smoking barrels sizzling in the cold.
Then—
Click.
They rotated in unison.
And pointed directly at Byrnndi World.
“…Now we’re even,” Darren said softly, lifting his gaze.
“Metal manipulation, is it?” World narrowed his eyes, lips curling into a sneer.
“You cocky little Marine brat. You think getting your hands on a Devil Fruit makes you my equal—”
He didn’t get to finish.
The twisted metal hoverboard beneath his feet abruptly writhed like a living serpent. Silver liquid metal surged up and coiled tightly around his legs, knotting like braided steel.
His expression shifted.
Darren lifted a finger and gave it the slightest flick.
A faint arc of blue energy shimmered and vanished in the air.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The floating rifles erupted once more in a blazing fury. A torrent of bullets surged forward like a metallic hurricane, an overwhelming wave crashing down on Byrnndi World.
“…You think that’ll work?” Wald spat, laughing coldly.
A black, metallic sheen swept over his body—Armament Haki, dense and armor-like.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The storm of bullets struck him again and again, but each round bounced harmlessly off his skin, ricocheting into the snow and gouging out craters.
Through the downpour of fire, World sneered darkly:
“You Marines don’t understand the true terror of this sea.”
“The North Blue? Just a tiny corner of the world. You haven’t even set foot in the Grand Line… You’re nothing but a frog in a well!”
With a roar, he stomped down—his legs, wrapped in Armament Haki, cracking the earth beneath him.
The metal binding his feet groaned and warped—
And then—snapped.
He tore himself free, the metal unraveling like taffy.
Darren watched him quietly. His eyes, dark and unreadable, showed no change.
“No,” he said. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand the true terror of the North Blue.”
Then he smiled.
Byrnndi World froze.
That smile—it set off alarms in his mind. Unease surged through his chest. He instinctively activated Observation Haki, sweeping the field.
And then his face turned pale.
Darren raised his hand high and gestured with practiced clarity.
A clenched fist.
BOOOOOOM!!!
Thunder roared overhead. A massive rumble shook the air as fire ignited across the sky. From the heavens, ten Marine warships emerged from the clouds like monstrous blades cleaving through the sky.
One ship.
Two.
Three…
Ten ships in perfect formation, hovering ominously in the air above.
From their decks and flanks, rows upon rows of cannon barrels extended out—black and menacing, trained on the island below like the eyes of a waking war god.
The air itself seemed to shudder.
“Times have changed, Byrnndi World,” Darren said quietly.
In World’s constricted pupils—
In Byojack’s horrified eyes—
Darren brought his hand down.
And the sky fell.
BOOM!!
Deafening cannon fire tore through the clouds. A storm of orange-red shells screamed downward in a cataclysmic bombardment. The entire bay lit up in a hellish blaze as all four pirate ships docked at the harbor were reduced to flaming wreckage.
One after another, the ships detonated—explosions rippling across the bay like firecrackers set off in sequence.
Fireballs surged skyward. The sea burned. The land shook.
The shockwaves rolled out in rings, hurling debris, pirate corpses, and seawater into the air.
Amid the flames, screams echoed faintly—then were swallowed by the inferno.
Black smoke billowed into the sky.
And through that rising smoke, crimson fire lit up the clouds like blood across the heavens.
The Marine officer turned his back to the burning bay.
His white cloak, caught in the firelight, fluttered like a banner soaked in blood.
Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, Rogers Darren, spread his arms wide.
Behind him, columns of flame roared skyward.
He stared down the infamous pirate, lips curled into a wild, arrogant grin—
“Welcome to the North Blue.”
“Welcome… to my territory.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 87: Darren Must Not Fall
Chapter Text
"Admiral Sengoku! What is that?!"
"Someone just appeared on the island—he’s fighting the World Pirates!"
"It happened in an instant! In the blink of an eye… every pirate on that island, except Byrnndi World, was taken out!!"
A Marine stationed on a lookout post several nautical miles from the target island let out a panicked scream, binoculars trembling in his hands.
"It’s Captain Darren!! He’s on the island!!"
"He wiped out hundreds of World’s subordinates in a single instant!!"
"—What?!"
Sengoku’s face twisted in shock. He snatched the binoculars from the aide next to him, frantically scanning the distant island.
But before he could locate anything—
Borsalino, who had been lazily picking at his nails, suddenly looked up, smirking.
"No need to look… they’re already here."
Sengoku froze for a moment, then instinctively activated his Observation Haki.
And the moment he did, his pupils contracted into pinpricks.
Something had arrived—something enormous.
His gaze shot upward, piercing the clouded skies above the island.
A moment later, every Marine on deck went wide-eyed. Mouths dropped open. Brains blanked. It was like witnessing a miracle.
From the distant heavens, one warship after another emerged, breaking through the clouds like mythical beasts. They hovered high in the air—untethered by gravity or wind—maneuvering freely into formation, a line of ten Marine warships in perfect alignment.
Massive black cannons extended from each ship’s flanks.
Then, after a beat of silence—
they fired.
A bombardment like a monsoon of destruction poured down on the island’s harbor. Explosions lit the coast in wave after wave of crimson flame, swallowing the bay in an inferno.
Shockwaves rumbled across the sea. Towering waves surged near the island’s shores, crashing and roaring in response to the destruction.
"The World Pirates’ four ships… they’re all… they’re all gone…"
A Marine on deck finally broke the stunned silence, swallowing hard before speaking in a dry, hoarse voice.
And just like that, the tension snapped.
Cheers erupted across the ship.
"Those are our warships!!"
"No doubt about it! That’s the seagull of justice flying on their flags!!"
"But where did that fleet come from?!"
"A flying Marine fleet?!"
"We haven’t received any signal from HQ about reinforcements!"
"Wait a minute—we’re in the North Blue!!"
"Could it be…?"
The Marines all turned toward their commander, realization dawning on their faces.
"Beautiful work!!!"
Sengoku slammed his fist into his palm and roared in excitement. His wide cloak of Justice flared behind him.
His eyes burned as he stared at the fleet lined across the skies—his heart thundering in his chest.
A flying Marine fleet!
That damned brat Darren… just how deeply had he hidden this card?
A satisfied grin tugged at Sengoku’s lips.
As the most calculating mind in the justice faction, Sengoku knew better than anyone just how game-changing a fleet like this could be.
He thought of Golden Lion Shiki—how the pirate had used the power of the Float-Float Fruit to raise his fleet into the sky. With his floating fortress, Shiki evaded countless naval sieges, appearing and disappearing at will, uncatchable even when outnumbered.
And combined with Shiki’s monstrous personal strength, it had made him virtually invincible.
At his peak, Shiki was considered more dangerous than even Roger or Whitebeard—a true nightmare for the Marines.
And now…
Now, the Marines might finally have a countermeasure.
If Darren’s power could be harnessed—if this fleet could be replicated—then perhaps… just perhaps… the Marines could create their own invincible sky fleet.
A fleet unbound by currents or wind. A fleet that could strike anywhere, anytime. A fleet of justice that could soar freely into the New World and crush evil at lightning speed.
The thought alone made Sengoku’s blood race.
He didn’t even stop to question the terrifying amount of firepower packed into Darren’s fleet.
"Admiral Sengoku, should we begin our advance?"
Borsalino asked lazily, eyes half-lidded.
Sengoku blinked, then jolted upright. Of course—that barrage was the signal to move!
"All units—advance! Full speed ahead!!"
He raised his hand, issuing the command with a solemn expression.
In a flash, every Marine on deck burst into action. Sails unfurled, engines roared to life.
Then—
"Borsalino!! What the hell are you doing?! Move! Go back him up!!"
Sengoku turned and shouted furiously at the Rear admiral, who was still calmly adjusting his suit.
"If anything happens to Darren, I’m holding you personally responsible!!"
Four pirate ships had been obliterated in seconds. Byrnndi World was cornered, with nowhere to run.
And right now, the only person on that island… was Darren.
A wounded beast, when cornered, always lashes out the hardest.
Borsalino raised his hands in mock surrender and muttered under his breath, "Yeesh… if I hadn’t said anything, you’d still be standing here starstruck."
And with that, his body dissolved into a stream of golden light, launching toward the distant island in a dazzling arc.
Sengoku watched the golden streak vanish into the sky, sweat breaking across his brow. His fists clenched tight—veins bulging on the backs of his hands.
No matter what…
Darren must not fall.
——
"Brat!! You’ve got a death wish!!"
A furious roar tore through the air.
Byrnndi World’s eyes were bloodshot with rage, crimson veins radiating from his pupils.
He stared at the burning coastline, realizing at last—he was completely surrounded.
All four of his pirate ships, along with thousands of his men, had been vaporized in a single instant by the overwhelming firepower of the North Blue fleet.
And standing before him was nothing but a single Marine officer. A mere Captain.
He couldn’t possibly be acting alone… which could only mean—
That damn Sengoku must be nearby.
And his escape route—was gone.
No. No…
A twisted grin split across World’s face.
"Did you really think you’d cut off all my exits, Darren?"
From his coat, he pulled out a Den Den Mushi.
"BOHAHAHA! Bet you didn’t see this coming! I’ve still got one more ship!!"
He slammed the communicator open and sent the signal.
One second.
Two.
Three…
Nothing.
Silence.
World froze.
"...Looks like your signal’s not getting through," Darren said calmly, his voice tinged with a mocking smile.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 88: Still Standing
Chapter Text
"The Den Den Mushi’s signal… it's being jammed…"
From the shadow of a nearby tree, Byojack stared at the limp, unconscious Den Den Mushi in Byrnndi World’s hand. A wave of panic crashed through him like a tidal surge.
“World!! That Marine brat—his power isn’t just metal manipulation! He’s controlling the magnetic field! He’s jamming the signal directly!!”
Byojack gritted his teeth. Ignoring the sharp sting of the cold air in his throat, he let out a hoarse, desperate scream.
And the moment he got the words out, he doubled over, coughing violently—spitting up blood.
But the look in his eyes was pure terror.
If his instincts were right… this entire situation had been a trap from the beginning.
The weapons provided by Doflamingo…
The deal’s location and timing…
The magnetic field jammed…
The four pirate ships annihilated…
Every escape route severed…
It could only mean one thing:
They were about to face a full-scale assault from the Marine’s upper-echelon forces.
That realization slammed into Byojack like a sledgehammer. His breath quickened, heart racing, and his knees buckled beneath him. Gasping for air, he collapsed to the ground, trembling violently.
——
“Damn you, Marine brat!!”
Byrnndi World roared, crimson rage surging in his eyes. Blood vessels spidered out across his pupils.
Looking out over the burning, shattered coast, the truth hit him like a freight train.
He was surrounded.
Four ships. Thousands of subordinates. All obliterated in an instant beneath the North Blue fleet’s overwhelming firepower.
And now…
The only one left standing before him was a mere captain.
No, he realized—gritting his teeth.
This whole thing… had been a setup from the start.
“You’re the one who’s finished, Byrnndi World.”
Darren raised his hand. The twisted metal still coiled around World’s legs suddenly twitched—coming alive—and extended into sharp, lance-like spikes aimed straight at his body.
CLANG—CLANG—CLANG!!
The metal lances struck hard against World’s armored skin, clashing violently with his Armament Haki and throwing off bursts of sparks.
“How many times do I have to tell you?! Cheap tricks like that don’t work on me!!”
World bellowed furiously.
“Mo Mo: Tenfold Speed!!”
BOOM!!
The ground beneath him exploded into a spiderweb of fractures.
A second surge of explosive force, amplified by Armament Haki, blew apart Darren’s restraints. World broke free with a thunderous stomp, scattering stone into the air.
With a snarl, he reached out and slammed his massive hands against the airborne debris.
“Mo Mo: Tenfold Scattershot!!”
The shards of stone hurtled forward—and in a flash, their speed multiplied tenfold. They became high-velocity projectiles, each one punching through the air with the force of a shotgun blast.
Darren’s lips curved into a small smirk.
Tink—tink—clang!!
The hail of stone shrapnel slammed into him and ricocheted off his body, unable to pierce his frame.
World’s pupils narrowed.
This brat’s body… it was far tougher than expected.
But before he could act again—
A thunderous boom echoed from the skies.
The fleet was firing.
Dozens of heavy cannons roared to life atop ten warships. Blazing orange shells screamed through the air, plummeting toward the island in a scorching cascade.
A storm of death descended—a net of iron, fire, and smoke.
“Mo Mo: Tenfold Speed!!”
World vanished.
Dancing through the skies like a phantom, he twisted and flipped midair, weaving through the onslaught with impossible agility. His mastery over Soru and Geppo—techniques of the Marine’s famed Rokushiki—was flawless.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!!
The cannonballs struck the ground like falling gods, erupting into firestorms across the frozen terrain.
“Hahaha!! Speed is power! In these seas, no one can match mine!!”
World laughed wildly, dodging another blast by a hair’s breadth.
“…Is that so?”
Darren’s eyes narrowed. He stretched his hands wide, fingers clawing into the air—then jerked them forward, as though seizing something invisible.
World froze.
His expression twisted in disbelief as he realized—
The cannonballs, which should have fallen in parabolic arcs…
Were changing direction.
BOOM!!
One round curved unnaturally and exploded right in front of him.
Then came the second.
Then the third.
The fourth.
Each shell was now guided by an unseen force, breaking the laws of physics. Controlled by Darren like a conductor leading an orchestra of destruction.
Cannon after cannon unleashed hell on the same point. The center of the inferno swelled with black smoke and scarlet flame. The heatwave rippled outward, melting the snow and reddening the darkened skies.
Suddenly—
FWIP!!
With a sharp burst of displaced air, a charred and smoke-covered World appeared behind Darren—stealthy and silent like a phantom.
“Mo Mo: Fiftyfold Speed!!”
Darren’s pupils snapped into razor-sharp focus.
So fast.
“You little punk… relying on power that isn’t yours—you’ll never understand what true terror is in this sea.”
“Die!!”
With a blood-red gaze, World drove his fist toward the back of Darren’s head.
The force of his blow shattered the air itself, kicking up a white shockwave that exploded outward.
This Marine brat hadn’t awakened his Observation Haki…
At fifty times the speed of sound, he couldn’t possibly react in time.
But then—
World’s eyes went wide.
Darren spun around—faster than expected.
The metal on his forearms twisted, forming a dense metal shield between them in an instant.
He had predicted the attack!?
How…?!
World’s fist came down like a falling mountain.
CRACK!!
The shield twisted and shattered.
His punch crashed into Darren’s crossed arms—
BOOM!!
A shockwave tore outward in rings, hurling snow and debris into the air.
Crack—crack—crunch…
The bones in Darren’s arms buckled beneath the blow. Blood mist sprayed from his skin with every fracture.
THUD!!
His body shot backward like a cannonball, spiraling through the air. He crashed into the ground over a hundred meters away, skidding across the snow in a long, blood-streaked trench.
Drip… drip… drip…
Thick blood spilled from his arms, staining the snow.
With a grimace of pain, Darren forced himself to stand, body shaking. A dark smear of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
World’s punch had fractured the bones in both of his forearms.
If it hadn’t been for the shield—and Darren’s abnormal physical conditioning—his arms would’ve been pulverized on the spot by that Armament Haki-powered strike.
“Yeah… Haki really is the greatest weapon in these seas.”
He wiped the blood from his mouth and glanced at his ruined hands.
Torn flesh. Shattered veins writhing beneath what remained of his skin. Exposed bone glinting from the back of his right hand.
And yet—
Darren grinned through the pain, a savage light in his eyes.
“…But I’m still standing.”
---
— To be continued...
Chapter 89: Pushing the Limit
Chapter Text
In these seas, the ability to wield Haki marked the clearest line between the strong and the weak.
Armament Haki could dramatically enhance both defense and offense, and more importantly, it provided the only means besides Seastone to counter Logia-type Devil Fruit users.
Observation Haki, meanwhile, granted heightened sensory perception—allowing the user to anticipate movements and detect threats with terrifying accuracy.
In the North Blue, Darren’s strength made him undeniably “invincible.”
But out here—in the vast, boundless world beyond—without Haki, even his refined Devil Fruit mastery and monstrous physical conditioning meant little in the face of a living legend like Byrnndi World.
Even if his body had already surpassed the limits of normal humanity, in this moment, Darren was still lacking something crucial.
He staggered upright from the ground, hunched like a coiled predator ready to pounce. Pain screamed through his arms, but his eyes were burning with an intensity that refused to fade.
Smoke churned from the distance—
And from within it, a heavy black boot stepped forward.
Darren’s gaze rose.
Byrnndi World emerged from the smoke cloud, his hulking frame battered and scorched.
His skin was marked with burns. Even his full-body Armament Haki couldn’t fully shield him from the North Blue fleet’s relentless bombardment.
"Marine brat… do you feel it now? The gap between us!!"
World’s eyes glinted with fury. His breathing was rough, his voice twisted with hatred.
He had never known rage like this.
He was Byrnndi World—The World Destroyer.
A pirate who had once stood shoulder to shoulder with Whitebeard and Gol D. Roger.
And now—now he was losing, in some backwater trap… in the North Blue!?
Absurd. Insulting. Unacceptable.
"Don’t think this is over. Even if that bastard Sengoku is on his way, I’ve still got time to kill you and escape."
"Then come and try," Darren sneered, lips curled into a defiant grin. "But you’re running out of time."
"You little punk—!!"
BOOM!!
The earth collapsed beneath them, snowbanks exploding upward from the sheer shockwave.
World vanished.
Too fast for the naked eye to follow.
“Mo Mo: Fiftyfold Speed!”
Time seemed to still.
Darren’s mind entered a state of razor-sharp focus. Blue arcs of electricity danced across his fingers.
An invisible magnetic field pulsed from his body, expanding outward—enveloping everything within a hundred-meter radius.
Even the falling snowflakes seemed to slow in the air.
Inside his head, every trace of bioelectric magnetic fluctuation—every heartbeat and breath within the field—lit up in his mind like stars.
Suddenly—
A faint glimmer of blue flashed across his eyes.
Got you.
Above.
Just as that thought formed, a sharp whomp split the air above him.
A boot clad in jet-black Armament Haki plummeted from the sky like a steel war axe.
Darren rolled aside—barely. The boot scraped past his head and crashed into the earth.
KRAK!!
BOOM!!
A deafening impact shattered the ground. Snow and dirt surged into the sky like a raging dragon.
A hundred-meter-long fissure tore across the island, splitting trees and earth alike as it spread through the forest.
Debris soared.
World’s pupils contracted.
He dodged again?
He predicted it—again?
That first time wasn’t luck.
While World reeled in disbelief, Darren was already closing in.
They were similar in size. And now, they were face to face.
Darren reached forward—slamming his palm into World’s face with a feral grin.
"Let’s test your durability."
CRACK!!
BOOM!!
He drove World’s head into the ground.
A crater dozens of meters wide erupted beneath them, spiderwebbed with fractures.
Wind tore violently at the bloodstained white cape on Darren’s back. He stood tall—fierce, wild, unyielding.
"Was that supposed to hurt me?"
World sneered from within the pit. His entire body gleamed with hardened Armament Haki.
He grabbed Darren’s arm—and whipped him sideways like a ragdoll.
THUD!!
Darren hit the ground hard. Blood sprayed from his mouth, but the grin on his face only widened.
He flipped up, pivoting midair—and lashed out with a spinning kick toward World’s throat.
WHAM!!
Air cracked from the blow. World staggered, vision swimming. Even with Haki armor, Darren’s raw strength was monstrous.
Rage flared.
World lunged with a step and slammed his fist into Darren’s gut—
CRACK!!
And Darren’s leg, already in motion, smashed into his nose at the exact same moment.
They traded blows.
Each strike burst blood into the air.
Fist against fist. Flesh against flesh.
Rokushiki footwork, brute force, and sheer will.
The snow around them swirled in chaos as the two warriors tore into each other.
It was brutal.
"You damn lunatic!!"
World bellowed, shaken. The Marine brat’s face was drenched in blood—but he just wouldn’t fall.
He hadn’t even unlocked Haki…
And yet he was still standing—still matching him blow for blow, with nothing but strange sensory abilities and a body forged like iron.
"HAHAHAHA!! Come on!! Let’s go!!"
Blood sprayed as Darren was launched backward again, face streaked red. But he was still laughing.
Laughing like a madman.
This… this was the peak of his life.
To clash against a monster like Byrnndi World—
To walk the tightrope between life and death, one heartbeat away from being crushed…
This was ecstasy.
Every punch. Every torn tendon.
The sting of blood in his mouth and nose.
All of it stirred something primal inside him.
Like a lover’s whisper in the dark, it called to him—
That addiction to combat.
That desire.
That feeling of being truly, vividly alive.
Pushing the limit.
A fire raged in Darren’s chest. A question that burned with reckless hunger.
How far could he go?
Without Haki—
Without the power that defined the greats—
How long could he fight a pirate of Byrnndi World’s caliber?
Even a minute longer…
No, even one second more—
Would be enough.
Enough to break his limits.
---
— To be continued...
Chapter 90: All for a Drop of Blood?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Yes—pushing the limit!
Because right now, in this exact moment, Darren could feel it—
The strength that had long plateaued…
His speed, his endurance, his power—
All of it was rising, surging upward at a rate he'd never felt before.
Physique: 62.251 (+0.08, +0.05, +0.06...)
Strength: 59.311 (+0.05, +0.04, +0.03...)
Speed: 61.623 (+0.04, +0.06, +0.03...)
Speed had seen the most dramatic jump.
After breaking the 60-point threshold, his acceleration and burst movement had undergone a qualitative leap—
He could now flicker across short distances at blinding velocity.
If this kept up—if he kept pressing forward like this—
Within mere minutes, Darren might not just replicate, but fully master the Marine technique known as Soru, one of the six powers of Rokushiki, just by fighting Byrnndi World!
That thought fired through his mind like lightning.
His enhanced magnetic field perception amplified everything—
Every twitch of World’s muscle fibers, every shift in balance, every breath before a step…
He could see it.
And then—
"Die, Marine brat!! You think you can stall me?!"
World erupted in fury, his massive form appearing above Darren in a flash, foot raised high in a sky-splitting stomp.
Wind howled under the pressure—
The air screamed as his kick came crashing down.
Darren’s eyes snapped wide open.
FWIP!
The snow beneath him exploded.
World’s pupils dilated in disbelief.
BOOM!!
The stomp cratered the earth. Snow and dirt erupted into the sky like an avalanche.
But the Marine brat—he was gone.
Gone.
A wave of disbelief surged in World’s chest.
Soru.
He’d used Soru.
That Marine brat had just used Rokushiki.
"What… What!?"
World’s voice cracked in shock.
After trading blows with him so long, he’d measured Darren’s strength precisely.
A superhuman body.
Freakish reflexes.
That bizarre magnetic field technique...
It was enough to be proud of—but it wasn’t enough to beat a pirate of his level.
If not for his monster-like durability, Darren would've been dead ten times over.
But now…
In under two minutes, this little Marine bastard had mimicked one of the core techniques of Rokushiki!?
No—
World shook his head, face dark.
His gaze locked on Darren, who was gasping and bloodied, having reappeared several meters away.
But even now… he was evolving.
With every second, his speed, strength, reaction time—
Everything was rising.
World clenched his fists tighter.
This reckless Marine brat was using him—Byrnndi World—as a training dummy to push himself further!
"Do you even realize who you’re fighting!?"
Rage surged in World’s bloodshot eyes.
With a snarl, he vanished.
“Mo Mo: 100x Speed!!”
He reappeared directly in front of Darren, fist already pulled back—
Wrapped in obsidian Armament Haki, glistening with lethal intensity.
The pressure from the blow warped the very air.
Darren’s pupils shrank.
Too fast!!
This was on another level entirely.
Faster than Soru—ten times faster.
The fist that followed was monstrous—
Crushing. Unstoppable. A killing blow forged in fire and fury.
No escape.
Darren’s magnetic field had sensed it. His brain had predicted it.
But even so, his body couldn't keep up.
This was death.
But—
Darren grinned, eyes wild, lips curled into a bloodstained sneer.
If this was death…
Then let it be head-on.
He clenched his fist—and threw his own punch straight at World.
The space between them vanished.
Like two beasts leaping for each other's throats, their fists became fangs—colliding in a violent, soul-rending roar.
BOOM!!
CRACK!!
Both punches landed.
Bones shattered.
Darren’s chest caved in under the blow. He gasped, a jagged wheeze escaping as blood burst from his mouth.
But his fist—his counterpunch—smashed across World’s jaw, leaving a nasty bruise and a thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
BANG!!
A second Haki shockwave detonated, blasting Darren’s body hundreds of meters backward. He smashed into the snowy side of a distant mountain, embedding deep into the rock.
A muffled boom echoed through the mountainside.
Snow poured down in cascading avalanches, crashing like a white tsunami across the landscape.
World stood still, slowly wiping the blood from his lip with his thumb. He took a step toward the collapsed mountain.
"All that effort… almost got yourself killed…"
He looked at the red stain on his thumb and let out a cold chuckle.
"All that… just for one drop of blood?"
Inside the collapsed cliff, Darren lay in a massive crater, coughing up blood, struggling to breathe.
"...That one drop is enough for me."
His uniform was tattered, his body torn and bleeding.
But his eyes—his damn eyes—still gleamed with defiance.
Blood gushed from his nose and mouth. Muscle fibers visibly writhed beneath his shredded skin. His body was ruined.
But his spirit?
Still burning.
"‘The World Destroyer,’ the legendary Byrnndi World… injured by a brat without even Haki…"
He laughed.
He laughed.
His teeth were stained crimson, but his smile was pure madness.
World blinked, and for the first time, he didn’t get angry.
He stared at the bloodied, broken Marine.
"...I’ll admit it, Darren. I’ve never met anyone quite like you in all my years at sea."
His voice turned solemn. Sincere.
"If you had more time… you might have reached the top of the world."
"...But sadly—"
World’s body blurred as he shot forward like a cannonball, fist cocked back.
"You die here."
His Haki-coated fist grew larger, closer, closer—
Darren didn’t flinch.
He just grinned.
"Well… That might be true. But you know what?"
"This sea’s fastest man is on our side."
And in that instant—
FLASH!
A golden beam split the air.
Particles of light converged midair into a single, glowing foot clad in a white leather shoe.
It stopped World’s punch cold.
BOOM!!
The impact unleashed a crushing shockwave, whipping a Justice cloak violently through the air.
A lazy voice followed.
"My, my… how scary. You almost killed our dear Captain Darren."
Light particles gathered and formed a shape—leg, torso, face—
And then the ridiculous sunglasses appeared.
Borsalino.
Grinning, relaxed as ever, he turned back toward Darren.
"If you died here, Admiral Sengoku would’ve been real pissed at me."
Darren chuckled, blood still running down his chin.
“I thought even someone at the speed of light would be late… Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
---
— To be continued...
Notes:
Well, that escalated quickly. (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
Darren broke himself, World got bruised, and Borsalino made a fashionably late entrance.
Drop your favorite moment in the comments!
Chapter 91: The Island-Shattering Cannon!?
Chapter Text
“I thought even someone at the speed of light would be late… Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
Darren reached out with a trembling hand, trying to brace himself against a crack in the nearby rock wall—
but his fingers slipped, and he collapsed again.
Thick drops of blood splattered across the snow like crimson plum blossoms.
His ribs were shattered. His lungs burned with every breath. The taste of iron filled his mouth, and waves of pain surged from every muscle and every bone, crashing against his mind like a storm.
And yet…
He still wore that same defiant smile.
“Any later, and I’d have to file a complaint with HQ.”
Borsalino scratched his head in mock regret and raised his hands in surrender.
“Ahh… well, can’t be helped, can it?”
He turned lazily toward Byrnndi World, who stood stiffly just meters away, his expression shifting like a brewing storm.
“We meet again, Byrnndi World,” Borsalino said with a faint grin. “Looks like you’ve recovered nicely. That body of yours really is monstrous…”
“Shut up, you yellow punk!!”
World’s eyes flared with fury. In an instant, he vanished—
—and reappeared at Borsalino’s side, Haki-clad fist crashing down like a meteor from the heavens.
“Mo Mo: 100x Speed!!”
CLANG!!
A blade of golden light burst forth—
Ama no Murakumo, the Light Sword, blocked the strike with a radiant clash.
A storm of pressure erupted outward, hurling snow into a spiraling whirlwind.
Sparks flew like falling stars as the fist and blade ground against each other, reflecting in Borsalino’s ridiculous sunglasses.
“What terrifying speed…” he murmured.
“Don’t talk nonsense!!” World snarled. He vanished again, reappearing at Borsalino’s flank and launching a whip-like kick straight toward his head.
Borsalino raised his arm to block—
A dull thud rang out, and in the next instant, his body shattered into photons and shot across the battlefield.
BOOM!!
A massive explosion rocked the mountainside. Stone and snow collapsed in a deafening cascade.
With the strike landing clean, World didn’t hesitate. Killing intent surged from his body as he rushed toward Darren.
He had to kill that brat.
As long as the brat lived, the magnetic field would keep jamming the Den Den Mushi signal—
He couldn’t escape, couldn’t contact the last ship.
But then—
Particles of golden light reformed behind him.
"My, my… That stung. But tell me—have you ever been kicked at the speed of light?"
A blazing foot, clad in a white leather shoe, surged forward from the light—
A radiant strike aimed straight for the back of Byrnndi World’s head.
World, eyes wide, clenched his jaw and used Soru to dodge, reappearing meters away just in time.
FWOOSH!!
The light-kick missed, slicing the air as it streaked into the jungle.
Silence fell.
Then—
KABOOM!!
An enormous fireball erupted in the distance, engulfing the treetops in blazing orange flame.
Borsalino rematerialized, still smiling with mock amusement—
—but Darren noticed it.
His right hand was trembling.
He was strong—undoubtedly—but not yet the unfathomable force he would become years later.
Taking that Haki-infused kick from World had left a mark.
"You sure you’re up for this, Rear Admiral Borsalino?" Darren chuckled.
Borsalino gave a helpless shrug, gesturing toward the distant figure of World, who had just reappeared.
“Well… that’s The World Destroyer, after all.”
Suddenly, the sound of cannon fire rumbled from the coast.
World’s face darkened.
From that direction, a massive Marine battleship barreled into the burning harbor. Dozens of elite Marines jumped from the deck, weapons drawn, storming across the coast and cutting down the few pirates who’d survived the North Blue fleet’s bombardment.
At the same time—
A towering figure leapt from the ship’s bow. His flowing cloak of justice billowed behind him, and he soared through the sky using Geppo, closing the distance between them in seconds.
Admiral Sengoku.
One of the Marine’s greatest powers.
A pillar of the World Government.
World’s heart sank like a stone.
He was injured. Surrounded.
With Sengoku and that blasted yellow monkey both here—
There was no way out.
“…Sorry, Byrnndi World,” Borsalino said with a smile, casually flipping his Light Sword in his hand.
“You’re under arrest.”
“…Not yet.”
World grinned. A twisted, savage grin. Madness gleamed in his eyes.
Borsalino blinked.
From the sky, Sengoku’s eyes widened in horror.
"Stop him!!" he roared.
But it was already too late.
World vanished.
By the time they realized what he was doing, he was already at the edge of the jungle—
Standing beside a massive, black cannon.
“Barorororo!!”
“Bring all the reinforcements you want!! It makes no difference!!”
With a guttural scream, World lifted the monstrous weapon with both arms. The black barrel, nearly ten meters long, hissed with heat and smoke like the mouth of a war-beast.
"Be destroyed by my power!!"
"I’ll tear down everything that stands in my way!!"
"I am—"
World threw his head back, blood-red eyes flashing with madness.
"—The World Destroyer!!!"
Red-hot energy began to surge in the cannon’s core, condensing faster and faster—burning bright with apocalyptic heat.
Sengoku’s scalp prickled with dread.
A chill ran from his feet to the crown of his head.
He had seen it—through his binoculars earlier. That test shot.
The destructive power of that weapon.
If boosted by World’s Mo Mo no Mi to 100x…
It could flatten the entire island in a single strike.
“Mo Mo: Hundredf—!!”
World’s pupils quivered.
In the corner of his eye—he saw him.
That broken Marine brat.
Smiling.
A cold, knowing smirk.
Darren clenched his fist—
And in that moment—
The cannon twisted.
The massive barrel bent and warped, collapsing into a spiraled knot of ruined metal.
“No…”
BOOOOOOM!!!
A blinding explosion erupted from within.
A mushroom cloud of flame and ash towered into the sky, swallowing the heavens whole.
---
— To be continued...
Chapter 92: Seastone
Chapter Text
The world fell into momentary silence.
Blinding white light consumed everything—
And then came the shockwave.
A torrent of force surged outward from the explosion’s epicenter, rippling across the island like a tidal wave of destruction. Entire forests were uprooted and hurled through the air, swept away by the shock front. A massive fireball tore into the sky, and in the freezing air, it birthed a swirling red inferno—a tornado of flame that devoured everything in its path.
Only after a full second did the sound catch up.
A deafening, eardrum-shattering boom.
On the coast, Marines flung themselves behind cover. The moment they saw that blinding fireball erupt, a primal terror seized their hearts.
Even in the skies above, the North Blue fleet trembled under the pressure wave. The air rocked them violently. The decks groaned, and thin cracks began to splinter across their hulls.
On the observation deck, Gion, Tokikake, and the others clung to railings, eyes wide in disbelief.
Sengoku raised his arm to shield himself from the wave of scorching heat, his expression frozen in stunned silence.
Finally, he understood.
He finally understood why Darren had allowed Byrnndi World to touch that massive cannon.
RUMBLE…
The entire island quaked as if hit by a magnitude ten earthquake.
Waves the size of buildings rose from the sea, roaring like dragons.
“…So that was part of your plan too?”
Borsalino stood in front of Darren, arms outstretched in a protective stance, projecting his Armament Haki to shield the younger officer from the lingering shockwave.
Darren’s blood-soaked black hair was whipped wildly by the wind. The blood on his lips had long dried.
He licked his cracked lips and grinned.
“He wanted a cannon… so I gave him one.”
Then he paused. His smile twisted slyly, like a fox about to spring a trap.
“Of course… that wasn’t all I gave him.”
“Oh?” Borsalino blinked. Then a weird grin slowly crept across his face.
—
The flames receded.
The black smoke writhed across the sky, mixing with the drifting snowfall.
Everyone, shaking off the aftershock, turned their eyes toward the heart of the blast.
The island had changed completely.
Barren. Charred. Cratered. A burning, ruined landscape.
Within a kilometer radius, all snow, boulders, trees, and vegetation had been obliterated—scorched to ash.
At the center of it all, the cannon’s twisted remains still belched black smoke. The barrel, once immense, now warped and split open, bled molten metal like black-red lava dripping across the scorched ground.
And standing there…
A figure.
Not a man—barely a shadow of one.
Byrnndi World.
Or what was left of him.
His flesh dripped in molten globs.
Charred wounds marred every inch of his body.
His neck and chest were especially horrific—raw muscle exposed beneath blackened skin, with his trachea and tendons twitching visibly under pale fascia.
His entire chest had been flayed open.
Where skin and muscle once were, now lay exposed ribs—through which his heartbeat and lungs were plainly visible.
It was grotesque. Inhuman.
“D… damn…”
World lifted his head slowly. Blood poured from every inch of him.
His bull-horned helmet was gone. What remained of his face looked like a flayed skull, an eyeless membrane pulsing behind exposed sockets.
One of those slick eyes rolled, then locked onto Darren.
Filled with hatred.
“You… planned this… from the start…”
Darren slowly rose from the rock wall, swaying, breath ragged, and laughed.
“Something like that. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to survive that blast.”
World clenched his teeth—what was left of them—his cracked jaw exposing bloody gums.
“No… No way…”
“How… could I lose to a brat from the North Blue!!?”
Murderous fury flared in his eyes.
Even if it cost him his life, he would take this brat with him.
Sengoku and Borsalino instantly tensed, prepared to intercept—
But World staggered.
He stumbled two steps, then dropped to one knee, blood vomiting from his mouth.
“My… my body… What is this…?”
He clawed at his face, panting madly. Blood dripped between his fingers.
His body… was going numb.
“Seastone…”
“…When…?”
World’s eyes darted down. On his thigh, his abdomen, his arm—
He saw it.
Tiny black fragments. Embedded in the wounds.
“The cannon shells,” Darren said quietly, wiping blood from his cheek.
“I laced them with a small amount of seastone.”
“I wanted to use more, but… after combing the entire North Blue, that’s all I could find.”
His words made not just World freeze—
But Sengoku, too. The Admiral’s head whipped around to stare at Darren, expression stunned.
Borsalino, meanwhile, just smiled like always.
“My, my… how wicked of you…”
“Right back at you, Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
Sengoku snapped back to reality and roared, veins bulging:
“You insane brat! What the hell were you thinking!? What if that blast had hit my battleship?!”
That shell had been loaded with seastone, no less!
If he’d been struck—even with Haki defenses—he wouldn’t have fared much better than World.
“Then I guess… I would’ve had to pray for your safety,” Darren replied, far too calmly.
Sengoku nearly choked on his own rage.
This lunatic. This absolute lunatic.
“I’m sure Rear Admiral Borsalino would be thrilled to take over your post.”
Darren grinned.
Sengoku’s face darkened.
Borsalino’s smile faltered.
Darren laughed softly and shook his head, then turned his gaze back to Byrnndi World.
“Well then…”
“It’s over.”
“Byrnndi World… do you have any last words?”
---
— To be continued...
Chapter 93: No Last Words Needed
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Last words, huh…”
Byrnndi World panted quietly, his voice a faint rasp, as he repeated Darren’s question. His eyes glazed over.
Almost absentmindedly, his gaze shifted toward a spot in the distance.
There—
A charred pile of blackened bones still smoldered softly.
Byojack.
Caught in that colossal blast, he hadn’t stood a chance.
Weaker than an average man, he’d been reduced to ash in an instant.
“…Brother…”
World chuckled.
Then laughed.
A hoarse, broken laugh—
That grew louder, more twisted, swelling into a fit of madness.
“Barororororo!! BARORORORORO!!”
The corners of his mouth twisted upward in hysterical mirth, but beneath the laughter bubbled despair, resentment, helplessness… a storm of clashing emotions.
Two streams of blood-red tears welled from his scorched eyes, oozing down the ruined remains of his face.
Drip.
Drip.
He extended his mutilated arms—bloodied and raw—and used the last fragments of his strength, his final shreds of willpower, to stand.
Trembling, swaying, he forced himself upright.
One final time.
He raised his chin high.
His wild gaze swept across the faces of Sengoku, Borsalino, and the scores of armed Marines rushing in from all sides. He spat blood in disdain—
And then locked eyes with Captain Darren.
He grinned.
That same arrogant grin.
If this was to be his end, then he would face it standing—defiant, proud, undefeated.
He drew a ragged breath.
“Come on, Darren… do it.”
“My life—has been one hell of a ride!”
And then he threw his head back, roaring to the sky:
“What need have I for last words!?”
Darren smiled.
“…As you wish.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver coin.
With a flick of his thumb, he sent it spinning into the air.
The coin twirled skyward, catching the pale winter sun as it climbed—
And in its mirrored surface, it reflected:
Sengoku’s grim face.
Borsalino’s crooked grin.
The wide-eyed Marines closing in.
And Darren himself, lips cracked and bloodied.
For a heartbeat, time slowed.
The snow danced lazily through the frozen air, melting instantly as it touched the scorched earth.
Byrnndi World stared at the spinning coin.
And within its gleam, memories came rushing back.
Standing on a cliff as a child, staring out at the sea and swearing he’d conquer it.
His first voyage—caught in a storm.
His first encounter with a brutal pirate crew.
The fear.
The triumph.
The first recruit he welcomed.
The first fistfight.
The first kill.
His furious gaze softened.
In the depths of his mind, a familiar, gentle voice echoed:
“Look, World! Look at that sea! It connects to islands and nations we’ve never even imagined! Isn’t it amazing?”
“One day, you’ll set sail, World. At the ends of these seas, there’s a grand adventure waiting just for you.”
“Go in my place. Grow strong. See the world for both of us.”
A young boy looked up at the confident figure of his older brother, arms raised high with hope, eyes gleaming in the sun.
“…I’m sorry, brother.”
“Without you… no matter how far I travel, no matter what I see—what’s the point?”
World smiled.
He raised his head.
Faced the sun and the falling snow—
THMP.
A single burst of blood bloomed from his chest.
The coin, now plummeting, shot downward with magnetic precision—
and pierced his heart.
Byrnndi World’s eyes gently closed.
He fell, a silent thud on scorched earth.
Sengoku stood in silence, solemn.
By protocol, someone like Byrnndi World—wielder of a powerful Devil Fruit—should have been captured alive and sent to Impel Down.
That way, his Devil Fruit wouldn’t be reborn somewhere, into the hands of another pirate.
But Sengoku hadn’t stopped Darren.
Because through his Observation Haki, he already knew—
World wouldn’t have survived.
Letting him die at Darren’s hand…
Was the final act of respect from a longtime rival.
The coin spun back into Darren’s hand with a faint metallic ring.
He turned toward Sengoku and said with a tired smile:
“Mission complete, Admiral Sengoku.”
Sengoku blinked.
Then immediately barked to his men:
“Send the order! Sink the last ship of the World Pirates—eliminate the remaining forces!”
“…No need.”
Darren gave a faint chuckle and pulled a bloodstained Den Den Mushi from inside his coat.
He dialed.
“…Captain Darren,” came Momonga’s steady voice on the other end.
“Target acquired?”
“Confirmed.”
“Then execute.”
“Understood.”
The line cut.
Sengoku felt a strange shiver, and looked up.
In the air, one of the North Blue battleships began to slowly rotate.
A black missile slid from the side of its hull.
FWOOM!!
With a burst of orange fire, the missile launched from the ship, streaking across the sky with a long burning tail.
Two seconds later—
A low BOOM rolled across the sea.
A faint glow rose from the fog-shrouded horizon.
Sengoku stared, dumbfounded.
“…What the hell was that?”
“Target eliminated, Captain Darren,” Momonga’s voice calmly confirmed.
“Nicely done.”
Darren ended the call and turned back to Sengoku.
“Reporting in, Admiral.”
“In the operation to suppress the World Pirates, the North Blue Fleet sank five ships and eliminated over three thousand enemy combatants. Byrnndi World and Byojack—executed on site.”
“Our losses…”
He smiled.
“Zero.”
Sengoku opened his mouth.
No words came out.
Before he could respond, Darren’s body swayed—
His vision darkened—
And he collapsed.
“Captain Darren!!”
“Get the medics!! Hurry!!”
“Call the ship’s doctor!! MOVE!!”
Voices shouted and swirled in chaos.
“…So it’s over, huh?” Borsalino said, glancing down at Darren’s unconscious form.
“…Yeah. It’s over.” Sengoku replied in a daze.
Then Borsalino casually added—
“Y’know… it feels like this whole operation would’ve gone the same with or without you, Admiral.”
Sengoku froze.
…He was right.
Other than yelling “Stop him!” once, he hadn’t done anything.
At least Borsalino had arrived in time to save Darren. He’d helped fight World. He’d contributed.
But Sengoku?
Was his presence even necessary?
That realization struck him like a brick. He stood there in stunned silence.
And then he looked up—
Right into Borsalino’s amused, half-lidded stare.
“…What the hell is that look!?”
Sengoku exploded, red-faced.
“I was—was overseeing the operation! Strategically!”
“If I hadn’t had the vision to entrust command to Captain Darren, this mission would never have succeeded!!”
He turned sharply and stormed off toward the battleship, boots thudding.
Borsalino watched him go, chuckling softly.
Then he looked down at the Marine captain being loaded onto a stretcher.
And murmured:
“…You really do have a way of making the impossible look easy.”
Notes:
And so, the first true battle between life and death has come to an end.
A young man walked through fire,
Stared down a nightmare that could destroy the world,
And fought not with power alone—
But with blood, will, and unshakable resolve.
Did you enjoy this fight?
Because this…
This was only the beginning.
What lies ahead are battles beyond imagination—
Moments so fierce they’ll scorch the pages,
Fights where every heartbeat may be the last,
Where convictions are tested,
And justice bleeds.
If you want to feel every strike,
Every breath held at the edge of death,
Every surge of victory or fall into despair—
Then stay with us.
The story of “The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History” continues...
Chapter 94: Merely a Fatal Injury
Chapter Text
321st Branch of the North Blue.
Base Commander's Office.
Standing before the vast floor-to-ceiling window, Sengoku clasped his hands behind his back, silently watching the distant naval port where the warships of the North Blue Fleet were slowly returning to harbor. A strange gleam flickered in his deep-set eyes.
The North Blue Fleet… the sky-dominating force… the strategic airborne navy… disciplined elite soldiers… compact missiles… advanced technological weapons…
One phrase after another flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine the future possibilities.
“Darren, that little bastard… his ambition runs deep,” Sengoku muttered, narrowing his eyes.
Knock knock knock…
A light knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
As Sengoku withdrew his gaze and turned, his expression returned to calm. The door opened, and in walked Lieutenant Commander Momonga.
Wearing his Marine cap with his usual composed demeanor, Momonga stepped forward and saluted crisply.
“Admiral Sengoku. You asked for me?”
Sengoku looked him up and down, quite pleased with the cool-headed aura exuded by Darren’s right-hand man—the Deputy Commander of the 321st Branch.
“I imagine my presence here must’ve caused quite a bit of disruption for your team,” Sengoku said with a rare smile.
Though Byrnndi World was dead, the aftermath of the Ward Pirates Campaign still needed to be handled. With supplies in mind, Sengoku had decided to stay at the 321st Branch for a few days before returning to Marine Headquarters at Marineford.
Naturally, that meant the Base Commander’s Office had been taken over by him.
Momonga shook his head calmly.
“Quite the opposite, Admiral. The North Blue Fleet was immensely encouraged by your arrival. Without your planning, I doubt the campaign against the Ward Pirates would’ve ended in such a resounding victory.”
Sengoku rolled his eyes.
“Don’t get cute with me. That kind of flattery doesn’t suit you. Don’t start learning Darren’s bad habits.”
Momonga scratched his head awkwardly. He wasn’t the type for smooth talk.
Speaking of that little bastard…
“How is Darren’s condition?” Sengoku asked.
Momonga paused, a serious look taking over his face.
“According to the medical report, Base Commander Darren sustained extremely severe injuries during the operation. Over thirty bones fractured or shattered, internal bleeding, massive external blood loss… the situation is far from optimistic.”
Sengoku fell silent, a sigh rising within him.
That brat… Ambitious to a fault. Without informing HQ, he’d quietly constructed a powerful private fleet. Sengoku, with his sharp eye and broad experience, could tell at a glance that the ten warships deployed in the Ward Pirates Campaign were all modified.
Not only that, the heavy weapons mounted on the ships and the advanced tech used by the Marines from the 321st Branch… all unmistakably originated from Germa 66.
Germa 66…
Sengoku was reminded of another recent incident—when the North Blue Marines intervened in the war between the Germa Kingdom and the Kingdom of Yadis, and somehow, mysteriously, signed a cooperative agreement with Germa 66.
So that’s when it started… Darren’s collaboration with Vinsmoke Judge?
Sengoku didn’t like it. Not the secrecy, not the private deals. But after seeing what Darren had sacrificed to bring down Byrnndi World—the grotesque wounds, the blood-drenched uniform—he found it hard to pursue disciplinary action.
Because this wasn’t just any pirate.
This was Byrnndi World.
A pirate dangerous enough to threaten Marine Headquarters and the World Government itself.
“I’ve never seen Base Commander Darren so gravely wounded,” Momonga continued, unaware of Sengoku’s internal struggle. “According to the doctor, if it had been anyone else, they’d be dead. Even if they lived, they’d be left crippled for life.”
Sengoku winced. A pang of guilt twisted in his chest.
Darren had nearly given his life to bring down World. And yet here he was, already entertaining the idea of absorbing Darren’s fleet and tech into HQ’s arsenal.
Sengoku, you bastard… how can you even think like that? After everything that kid did?
“…As per the doctors’ estimates,” Momonga said with a sorrowful sigh, “Commander Darren will need at least two or three days of bedrest before he makes a full recovery.”
Sengoku nodded solemnly. “That kid’s been through hell. Leaving him here in the North Blue all these years… it’s been a waste of talent. I’ll see to it he’s properly compensated. Let him rest, and once he’s fully healed—”
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide.
“…Wait, what did you say!?”
He stared at Momonga in disbelief.
“Two or three days!? Darren will recover fully in two or three days!?”
Momonga blinked, slightly puzzled. “That’s correct.”
Sengoku twitched.
“But didn’t you just say he was critically injured? Thirty bones broken! Massive internal bleeding! Fatal wounds!”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t you say anyone else would’ve died or ended up a cripple!?”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t you just say you’ve never seen him this badly injured before!?”
“Yes.”
Sengoku was practically shouting now. “Then how!?”
Momonga, completely serious, replied:
“I haven’t seen him this badly injured before.”
“Normally, he gets slashed by blades, hit by artillery, burned by fire, riddled with bullets… and the wounds crust over in under thirty minutes.”
He added as if it were the most natural thing in the world:
“But this time, he’ll be lying in the hospital for three entire days. That’s… very serious.”
The sheer earnestness on his face made Sengoku want to scream.
He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words. At last, he simply buried his face in his hands.
“…Fine. Fine! I get it. Leave me alone. I need to think.”
Momonga saluted again. “Yes, Admiral. Call if you need me.”
He turned and left the office.
“…Wait,” Sengoku called after him.
“Where are Tokikake and Gion? Bring them to me.”
Momonga hesitated for a moment. “…Admiral, both Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake are off-base.”
“…Where did those two run off to?”
“Well… according to them, Lieutenant Commander Tokikake and Rear Admiral Borsalino have gone out to… survey the civil conditions in the North Blue.”
Momonga pursed his lips carefully.
Sengoku’s brow twitched.
“…And Gion?”
“Lieutenant Commander Gion… went to go arrest them.”
Sengoku: ……
---
To be continued...
Chapter 95: An Offer That Cannot Be Refused
Chapter Text
"So, Sengoku... how viable do you think it is to apply the North Blue fleet's model to Marine Headquarters?"
Inside the Base Commander's office, a low, deep voice rumbled from the den den mushi—Fleet Admiral Kong.
Sengoku frowned deeply, pausing a few seconds before answering carefully:
"Reporting, Fleet Admiral Kong. It's hard to say for now. I won’t be able to confirm the true cost of the North Blue Fleet’s equipment and weaponry until Darren wakes up."
Back at Marineford, inside the Fleet Admiral’s office, "Steel Bone" Kong stood with arms crossed and spoke in a gravelly voice:
"I've long heard of Germa's advanced weaponry. With such powerful tools, any force could drastically boost its combat strength in a short time. But Sengoku... you understand well that the true strength of the North Blue Fleet doesn't lie in its weapons."
"It’s Darren," Sengoku said slowly.
"Exactly. The key to the flying fleet is Darren's Devil Fruit ability. Without him, no matter how many high-tech weapons they mount or how well-trained the personnel are, it's still just a strong fleet."
Kong sighed.
"But with Darren’s ability, the strategic value of such a fleet..."
He paused, eyes sharp.
"...is immeasurable."
Sengoku nodded in agreement.
The threat of an airborne fleet had already been proven by Golden Lion Shiki. His pirate armada, vast in number, lacked the core strength of Whitebeard’s division commanders or the elite makeup of Roger's crew.
But for Marine Headquarters, if one were to choose the single most difficult pirate to deal with in all the seas—
It would be Shiki, without question.
His overwhelming personal strength and massive fleet were dangerous, but more than anything, it was his Devil Fruit that made him fearsome.
By lifting his entire fleet into the sky, he gave them unparalleled mobility. He could strike anywhere and escape at will. There was simply no effective countermeasure.
"And you must realize, Sengoku..."
"As Darren’s strength increases, so will his mastery over his powers—which means he’ll be able to carry even more ships."
"For someone with his talent, that’s only a matter of time."
Kong lit a cigar, took a long drag, and a smile began to form at the corner of his lips.
"Perhaps in the not-so-distant future... the forces of Justice will gain their first Flying Admiral."
Sengoku fell silent for a while.
"But Fleet Admiral Kong, what about control? What about the issue of Darren levying taxes in the North Blue? Are we just going to turn a blind eye?"
"From what I’ve observed these past two days, the worship of Darren within the fleet has reached a peak."
"To the point where, in this region, my orders as an Admiral carry less weight than his words as a Headquarters Captain."
"And based on the investigations by Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, Darren has used the tax revenue to equip his men with top-tier weapons, advanced warships, and pays salaries and benefits several times higher than HQ standards."
"If we don't address this, it won't be long before the North Blue Marines become Darren’s private army."
Kong chuckled.
"Sengoku... it's time you matured a little."
Sengoku scowled.
"Fleet Admiral!"
Kong let out a hearty laugh.
"I’ve reviewed Darren's record... He’s clever, ambitious, ruthless when needed, and charismatic."
"Do you really think those two greenhorns, Gion and Tokikake, could uncover that much intel without his consent?"
Sengoku froze.
His eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him.
"You mean... this was all intentional?"
Kong exhaled a puff of smoke, eyes narrowing as he gazed over the endless sea beyond Marineford.
"During the operation to take down Byrnndi World, Darren could have hidden his fleet."
"The time and location of the arms deal were known. With your strength and Borsalino’s support, it would’ve been risky, but not impossible to trap World."
"But Darren didn’t do that..."
Kong's tone carried a subtle gravity.
"He deployed the North Blue Fleet."
Sengoku's heart shook.
"He was making a show of force!"
Kong nodded.
"Exactly. He forced Headquarters to make a decision."
"He demonstrated his value—his power, potential, Devil Fruit, and the vision of an airborne Marine fleet."
"And in return, he wants the North Blue."
"He wants full control and leadership over the North Blue, unconditional silence on his actions here, and to become the rightful..."
Kong's voice dropped low.
"...King of the North Blue."
...
"Do you think HQ will agree?"
321st Branch, Marine Medical Wing.
A quiet, high-security hospital room. Bouquets and fruit baskets crowded the hallway outside. The scent of blood mixed with antiseptic lingered in the air.
Lieutenant Commander Momonga sat at the bedside, posture rigid, face somber.
"They'll agree. I revealed my power willingly... it’s an offer they can't refuse."
Darren reclined against the pillows, a lit cigar clutched between his teeth. His black eyes gazed beyond the window at the distant harbor, a confident smile playing on his lips.
Both arms were in casts. His upper body was wrapped in bloodstained bandages, and his face was pale from blood loss.
"Let’s wait and see. I can’t say these things aloud, but Sengoku and Kong aren’t fools. They’ll understand."
"The death of Byrnndi World, the birth of the flying fleet, my future—all of it will buy us at least twenty years of peace in the North Blue."
"And it won’t be long before your appointment comes in."
Darren turned to Momonga and grinned.
"Congratulations in advance, North Blue’s next Supreme Commander."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 96: Courage and Conviction
Chapter Text
"Absolutely not!!"
With a thunderous slam of his fist on the desk, Admiral Sengoku’s voice roared through the Base Commander's office.
"Fleet Admiral Kong, the North Blue Marines are not the private army of Rogers Darren!"
"If we allow this precedent, Marineford will lose its authority as the seat of justice for the world!"
On the other end of the Den Den Mushi, Fleet Admiral Kong rubbed his forehead in frustration. Sengoku was sharp—but when it came to questions of power, he tended to get stuck in the mud. At heart, he was a traditional soldier, born to follow orders. On sensitive matters like this, he often lacked… courage.
"Sengoku, tell me this: aside from Darren, who else could accomplish what he has?"
Sengoku fell silent.
Kong gave a faint smile, tinged with bitterness. "I wish there were more like Darren—but there aren’t. Not even the ones you’ve placed your hopes on. Not Sakazuki. Not Borsalino. Not even the brat from the Garp family."
Sengoku muttered, "I never placed any hope in Borsalino..."
Kong chuckled dryly.
Taking a long drag of his cigar, he continued, "That brat Darren… he’s excelled far beyond what we anticipated."
Sengoku reluctantly agreed. "His talent is… undeniable."
"It’s not just talent," Kong said gravely. "I’ve reviewed your full report on the operation against Byrnndi World."
"The formation of the North Blue fleet, the way he maneuvered them… everything from troop deployment to interception strategy, even down to the baited armaments—Darren predicted every move. I suspect he’d simulated the entire operation in his head countless times."
"That level of military acumen in someone so young… is a blessing to the Marines."
"Tell me, Sengoku—if it had been Sakazuki, Borsalino, Dragon, or even yourself, would you have handled it so flawlessly?"
Sengoku hesitated. Darren’s political savvy, strategic genius, and decisiveness had surpassed all of them.
A total annihilation of the World Pirates with zero casualties.
Even legends like himself, Garp, and Zephyr had failed to capture Byrnndi World in the past. Darren had succeeded.
Kong’s voice cut through the silence.
"Now you understand, don’t you, Sengoku? Compared to a future admiral with both brains and brawn… what’s the North Blue? Let him have it."
"And besides, no matter what rumors say about him, that brat has a line he won’t cross. You can see it in the North Blue. Crime has plummeted. Citizens are thriving. Pirates are vanishing. Isn’t that the justice we stand for?"
Sengoku frowned. "But Fleet Admiral, all of this stems from his personal ambition—"
"That’s irrelevant."
Kong cut him off flatly. "Who in this sea doesn’t have ambition?"
"If Darren someday grows strong enough to lead the Marines into war against Whitebeard, Shiki, or Roger himself—then I’ll gladly step down and hand him my seat."
His eyes gleamed with steely wisdom.
"You fear that the North Blue will become his private force—but I say our vision must be broader. Our justice must be greater."
"Let me tell you something, Sengoku. I may soon be appointed to a new post in the Holy Land Mary Geoise. The previous Commander-in-Chief has passed."
Sengoku’s eyes widened.
"You… you mean—"
"Yes. The seat is vacant. And among you, Zephyr, and Garp… only you have what it takes to inherit this mantle."
"Those in high command must possess not just strength, but vision. If Darren continues to hunt pirates, to uphold Marine orders, and to wear the cloak of justice… then he is one of us."
"Do you understand what I’m saying?"
Sengoku was struck silent. Kong’s words crashed down like a tidal wave.
At last, he raised his head and replied calmly, "I understand, Fleet Admiral."
Kong smiled.
"Then… have you decided what the official statement will say?"
Sengoku nodded.
"Rogers Darren, Supreme Commander of the North Blue, has, in the name of justice, successfully eliminated the World Pirates and their captain—Byrnndi World, the so-called 'World Destroyer'"
Laughter, loud and triumphant, echoed through Fleet Admiral Kong’s office in Marineford.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 97: The Golden Age
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
North Blue – 321st Branch.
Marine Hospital.
Ash from a lit cigar drifted lazily to the floor as Darren exhaled a stream of smoke. He winked playfully at the nurse replacing his IV, causing the young woman’s cheeks to flush red.
"So, how did it go?" he asked.
Momonga gave the nurse a glance before replying carefully, "According to your instructions, the supply holds of the returning ships were stocked with various types of fruit. But… no signs of any change."
Darren frowned. "What about the target island? Did the search turn up anything?"
Momonga nodded seriously. "We’ve conducted a thorough sweep over the last two days. Nothing. The island lies in a subarctic zone—perpetual snowstorms, nearly barren, only a handful of cold-resistant plants. Certainly not suitable for habitation, and absolutely no fruit-bearing flora."
He paused, waiting for the blushing nurse to exit the room, then lowered his voice:
"While Admiral Sengoku’s battleship resupplied here, I boarded it myself and searched—nothing. I checked their ship logs. According to their supply consumption, all fruit stores had already been depleted three days prior to the mission."
Darren released a slow breath, then chuckled dryly. "So it really wasn’t going to be that simple."
"Are you sure about this theory of yours?" Momonga asked, furrowing his brow. "That Devil Fruits reincarnate into the nearest piece of fruit when a user dies… There’s no precedent for this in naval records."
Darren shook his head. "No. It was just a hypothesis. Stocking fruit aboard the ships and sweeping the battlefield were merely precautions for a small experiment. It seems the idea doesn’t hold."
Darren trusted Momonga’s ability absolutely. Years of service together had proven his loyalty and meticulous nature. If Momonga said it wasn’t there, then it wasn’t.
This meant the theory that a Devil Fruit reincarnates in the nearest fruit upon a user's death… could be false.
As a transmigrant, Darren had some knowledge of the original timeline. The Devil Fruit reincarnation phenomenon had only been hinted at three times:
The first—Whitebeard’s death at Marineford. Blackbeard somehow stole the Gura Gura no Mi using what was likely his Yami Yami no Mi powers.
The second—two years after Marineford, Ace’s Mera Mera no Mi resurfaced, captured by Doflamingo and used as bait in the Corrida Colosseum.
The third—on Punk Hazard. Caesar Clown’s chemical weapon Smiley, enhanced with a Devil Fruit, died and seemingly transferred its power into a nearby apple, transforming it into a Zoan-type Devil Fruit.
That last scene sparked intense speculation among fans—that fruit near a dead user could absorb a Devil Fruit’s power.
Which is why Darren had stocked the fleet with fresh fruit—hoping the Moa Moa no Mi might reincarnate. Even if he couldn’t use it, it could be given to a trusted subordinate to help form his inner circle.
But perhaps the reincarnation mechanism was far more complicated.
If it really were that easy, the World Government and Marine would have discovered it by now.
Take Impel Down, for example—an isolated sea prison surrounded by the Calm Belt. Numerous Devil Fruit users had died there over its long history. Supply ships brought food, including fruit. If Devil Fruits respawned in nearby fruit upon death, it should’ve happened in Impel Down.
Yet no such report had ever been made.
"So… does that mean Devil Fruit reincarnation is truly random? Without pattern?" Darren murmured.
"Should I continue searching?" Momonga asked. "Maybe the process just takes longer."
"Leave a small team behind to monitor the island for a while."
"Understood."
"One more thing," Momonga added. "Headquarters just sent word. The Third Officer Training Camp will begin in ten days."
A glint lit Darren’s eyes. He smiled.
"It’s finally starting, huh?"
Momonga pulled out a folder. "Here’s the participant list."
Darren opened it.
His name stood first.
"The Supreme Commander of the North Blue, Commodore Darren"
Darren smirked. "Looks like the commendation from the Saint Shaldes incident went through. I’ve been promoted."
Momonga’s expression twitched slightly.
Darren skimmed the rest of the document:
"Commander Kuzan – South Blue."
"The Supreme Commander of the East Blue, Captain Doberman"
"The Supreme Commander of the South Blue, Captain Yamakaji"
"The Supreme Commander of the West Blue, Captain Onigumo"
And more… many familiar names.
"The Golden Generation… truly a sky full of stars."
He gazed at the roster—these names would echo across the seas in time, each one leaving their mark in the Marine’s history.
A new era was on the rise.
And it would shine with unmatched brilliance.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author’s Note:
Some details like the exact backgrounds or timelines of certain vice admirals may not align perfectly with canon, but these discrepancies won’t affect the narrative. Thank you for continuing the journey with Darren and the rising tide of this golden age!
---
Translator's Note:
Commander is the rank directly below Captain in the Marine hierarchy.
Chapter 98: King of the North Blue (End of Volume One)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With the Marine Intelligence Division’s announcement, the shocking news that the infamous pirate known as the "World Destroyer"—Byrnndi World—had been defeated and executed in the North Blue quickly rippled across the seas. Newspapers carried the headline from one shore to another, spreading like wildfire.
The calm surface of the Grand Line shattered beneath the weight of this revelation.
---
New World — A Certain Sea
The sky stretched out like a sea of white silk, clouds swirling in ribbons across a tranquil blue canvas. Beneath it, the endless ocean mirrored the heavens. There, resting atop the waves, loomed a colossal ship—its hull curved and mighty like a sleeping whale.
Above its towering mast, a white flag bearing a grinning skull and a crossed bisento fluttered with quiet pride. The symbol of the Whitebeard Pirates, feared across the seas.
"Oyaji! Big news!!" cried a young man with golden pineapple-shaped hair, sprinting across the deck. In his hands flapped a freshly-printed newspaper.
At the ship's prow sat a giant of a man, legs crossed, holding a barrel of sake in one hand. He reeked of booze, but his presence was anything but careless.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Marco? Stay calm first, panic later."
As the man rose, the air itself seemed to tense. His aura expanded like a mountain rising from the sea. The waves churned restlessly beneath the Moby Dick, unable to contain the quiet quake of power.
"Sorry, Oyaji! But this... this you have to see!"
The mountain turned. His massive frame caught the sunlight, casting a wide shadow across the deck. His cloak billowed in the sea breeze, golden hair whipping behind him like a war banner.
The Strongest Man in the World—Edward Newgate, Whitebeard.
He looked down at the breathless youth, eyes sharp but kind.
"Let’s hear it then. What’s gotten you worked up like this?"
Marco caught his breath and raised his voice.
"Byrnndi World... that bastard's been taken down by the Marines!"
Gasps broke out across the deck.
Tools clattered to the floor, barrels rolled to a stop—every pirate aboard froze at the name. The sea itself seemed to hush.
"Hoh? World... that monster?" Whitebeard muttered.
He remembered him well. They had clashed once, years ago—not out of hatred, but out of the inevitability of powerful forces colliding. It hadn’t been a true battle; merely a taste of each other’s strength. Still, he had shattered World’s so-called "Hundredfold Cannon" with a single quake punch.
"Was it Sengoku? Or maybe Garp who did it?" Whitebeard asked.
Marco shook his head.
"No... it was someone new. A Marine stationed in the North Blue. A name no one’s ever heard before. Rogers... Darren."
Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed. He took the paper from Marco and opened it.
The headline screamed across the front page:
> “King of the North Blue! Rogers Darren defeats the legendary pirate Byrnndi World!”
> “The Strongest Marine in the North Blue! Future Admiral of the Marine?!”
> “World Destroyer Byrnndi World, killed in the backwaters of the North Blue!?”
> “Shock headline!! The Marine super rookie who took down the infamous "World Destroyer" Byrnndi World… turns out to be a scandal-ridden disgrace!? Is this a distortion of humanity, or the collapse of morality!?"
The photo beneath it showed a black-haired young Marine standing amidst a field of pirate corpses, smoke rising behind him, blood staining his tattered uniform. His smile was wild, his eyes gleaming with defiance.
Whitebeard stared long and hard.
And then he laughed.
"Gurararara! That kid... he’s got fire in his eyes. Looks like my boys won’t be short on worthy opponents in the years to come!"
His laughter thundered across the sea. The ocean roared in reply, waves rising like beasts. The New World had felt the tremor.
A new storm was coming.
---
The Grand Line — Somewhere in the storm
A bolt of lightning tore the heavens apart.
Thunder roared as rain lashed the sea like whips, and a pirate ship danced atop waves like mountains. Every swell threatened to hurl it into the abyss.
“Captain Roger!! We’ve got news!! Big news!!”
A hooded boy with a red nose sprinted across the soaked deck, slipping with every step.
"Bahahaha! Buggy! Watch your footing, or you’ll be swimming!"
At the bow stood a man with wild black hair, laughing into the storm, his red captain’s coat soaked through but proud. He stood with one foot on the railing, embracing the chaos.
Gol D. Roger
"Let me read it! I saw it first!" shouted another boy with flaming red hair, grabbing Buggy in a headlock.
"Damn it! Shanks, who told you to run slow!!"
The two rolled across the deck, soaking wet, shouting curses like brothers.
"Let them speak," said a bespectacled man calmly, leaning against the mast.
"Yes, Rayleigh!" they chorused.
Then, in unison, the boys shouted over the thunder:
“Rogers Darren, King of the North Blue, defeated Byrnndi World!”
Roger blinked.
Rayleigh raised an eyebrow.
"King of the North, huh? Never heard of him."
He took the paper, squinting at the soaked ink.
Roger, on the other hand, grinned wide.
"Sounds like a tough guy. Just my kind of rival."
Rayleigh sighed. "He’s just a kid—barely twenty."
"So? The younger they rise, the higher they fly! Hahahaha!!"
Then—
BOOM!
The ship rocked violently.
"Enemy fire! Marines inbound!!"
Cannons howled through the storm, black shells arching through the sky.
Rayleigh’s blade flashed. With a single graceful sweep, the shells were cleaved mid-air, detonating above them in bursts of smoke and flame.
"Roger! You’re not getting away this time!!"
From the shadows of the storm, a silhouette emerged—a bare-chested Marine standing at the bow of a battleship shaped like a dog’s head.
His arms were a blur as he hurled cannonballs with his bare hands.
Vice Admiral Garp.
"Ahhh!!! It’s him again!!!"
Buggy screamed.
"This guy’s like a curse! We’re gonna die!!"
"Shut it!" Shanks hissed, equally pale.
Roger only laughed louder.
"Too bad, Garp! I’m not in the mood today!"
The ship’s sails caught a monstrous gust of wind, and they surged forward.
"Coward!!" Garp roared, hurling another cannonball.
"Bully!!" Roger shouted back.
BOOM!
"Come back here!"
"Catch me if you can!"
The sea raged. The sky howled. The dance between predator and prey—between hero and outlaw—resumed once more.
---
Across the four Blues, the Grand Line, and even the sky islands, countless eyes turned toward the headlines.
Some scoffed. Some cheered. Some grew uneasy.
But one thing was certain:
From this day forth,
“Rogers Darren, King of the North Blue” would become a name carried on the winds of every ocean.
---
End of Volume One: King of the North Blue.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
> You made it.
If you’re still here, reading these final lines, then this story must’ve spoken to you in some way. And for that—I thank you.
But don’t be fooled. This was only the beginning.
The North Blue was a curtain rising, a shadow stretching across the sea. But beyond its cold waters and bloodstained snows… a greater world awaits.
With each page ahead, you’ll meet more unforgettable characters, witness fiercer, bloodier battles, and dive deeper into the hearts of justice and vengeance alike.
There will be pain. There will be beauty.
There will be moments that break you—and others that remind you why you kept reading in the first place.
So take a breath.
Brace yourself.
Because the real story begins now.
Chapter 99: Chapter 1: The New Weapon - Beginning of Volume Two
Summary:
A king may have risen in the North Blue…
But the seas are far from quiet.
In truth, the storm is only just beginning.
"Volume 2" will take us deeper—into sharper choices, bolder deception, fiercer battles, and crueler fates.
But also… into something far more unforgettable.
Let the tide carry us forward.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Three days later.
Marine 321st Branch – Marine Hospital, Private Recovery Ward
A sterile silence lingered in the room, broken only by the soft rustle of cloth and the gentle snip of bandage shears.
Strip by strip, the bloodstained gauze was peeled away, revealing flesh that had only just finished knitting itself together—fresh skin, tinged with pink, still marked by faint scars and stubborn bruises. The scent of disinfectant hung in the air, sharp and clinical.
The body beneath the gauze was more than recovered—it was a masterpiece of muscle and form. Shoulders like iron girders, arms lined with ridged veins and power. There was something primal, undeniably commanding in his presence. A force of nature.
The young nurse attending him faltered for just a moment, her eyes flitting over that sculpted torso. Her cheeks flushed crimson. She swallowed hard.
“L-Lord Darren… I’ll go ahead and remove the cast on your arm,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Darren glanced at her, then smiled gently—a calm, collected kind of smile, the kind that made people instinctively want to stand straighter.
“No need,” he replied. “I’ll take care of it.”
He lowered his gaze, rolled his shoulders once—and then, with a deep exhale, he clenched both fists.
CRACK!
With a sound like splitting stone, the muscles along his forearms surged. The plaster that had encased his arm like a cage exploded outward, disintegrating into white powder that settled around him like ash.
Darren flexed his fingers, then rolled his wrists. Every joint popped with satisfying precision.
The nurse, red-faced, resumed cleaning his skin, now working with hurried reverence.
Knock knock knock…
A few polite taps at the door preceded its slow opening. A tall figure stepped inside, wearing the unmistakable uniform of an Admiral. His mustache twitched in amusement as he entered.
Admiral Sengoku.
“Well now,” he said, a grin playing on his face. “Darren, did you see the papers this morning? Looks like your name’s echoing through the seas…”
Darren rose upright on the bed and offered a crisp Marine salute.
“All thanks to your guidance and support, Admiral Sengoku.”
Then, turning to the nurse, he nodded gently. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”
She bowed and exited quickly, clearly relieved to escape the presence of two top-ranking officers.
Sengoku chuckled.
He’d been praised by plenty over the years—but when Darren said it, it never felt hollow. Just… genuine.
“You’re healing up quick,” Sengoku said, scanning him from head to toe.
Darren flexed his arm again. “I’ve had three days to rest. I’d be ashamed if I didn’t bounce back.”
Sengoku’s eye twitched.
He gave a dry chuckle, then shifted gears. “You got the notice from HQ, right? Officer training camp kicks off in seven days.”
Darren nodded once.
“Good…” Sengoku paused for just a moment—long enough to suggest there was more to say, something weighing on him.
Darren smiled knowingly. “You want to talk about the North Blue Fleet, don’t you?”
This kid… Sengoku thought. Always one step ahead.
He let out a breath and straightened up, voice taking on a serious edge.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Darren, you and I both know what the North Blue Fleet represents. It’s not just a regional force. It’s a prototype.”
“A Marine fleet that can fly—one equipped with aerial deployment, advanced tech… it changes the game.”
Sengoku clasped his hands behind his back.
“Now don’t get me wrong—the fleet’s independence under the Blue command structure is safe. We’re not dismantling it. HQ just wants to replicate the model, develop something similar at headquarters.”
Darren raised a hand, palm up in a gesture of assurance.
“You don’t need to explain further, Admiral. If it helps bring order and justice to the world, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’ll prepare a detailed report on all systems—ship modifications, gear loadouts, deployment patterns. I’ll have it on your desk by week’s end.”
He paused briefly, a sly glint in his eye.
“But… fair warning, Admiral. That kind of gear? Doesn’t come cheap.”
Sengoku burst into laughter—loud, gruff, and full of approval.
“Don’t worry about that! We’ll handle the budget!”
He clapped Darren on the shoulder. “You, my boy, are the future of the Marines. Unlike a certain someone who keeps disappearing when there’s work to do…”
He didn’t say a name—but the irritation was obvious.
Then, as if reminded by a passing thought, Sengoku leaned in, lowered his voice.
“Once you graduate… come work directly under me. I want you as my adjutant.”
“…The weather’s quite lovely today, isn’t it, Admiral Sengoku?”
The slow, teasing voice drifted from the doorway.
Sengoku’s back went rigid.
Darren turned his head, face already forming a wry grimace.
Rear Admiral Borsalino.
He was leaning lazily against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, hands buried in his coat pockets. His ever-present sunglasses reflected the ceiling lights, and his smile—if it could be called that—was pure mischief.
The room fell into a sudden, awkward silence.
Sengoku stood motionless.
Beads of sweat began to gather on his forehead.
Suddenly—
“Hello! Sengoku here!!”
He yanked a Den Den Mushi out of his coat and shouted into it with panic-stricken urgency.
“What!? A crisis at HQ!? I’m on my way!!”
He didn’t wait for a reply—just turned on his heel and made for the door at a near-jog.
Darren: “….”
Borsalino raised a lazy hand and pointed at the Mushi.
“Uhh… Admiral, I don’t think that line was ever connected.”
Sengoku stumbled mid-step. Without turning, he muttered: “…Signal must’ve dropped.”
He clenched his teeth and picked up the pace, vanishing down the corridor like a fleeing fugitive.
Several dark lines slowly crept down Darren’s forehead.
Borsalino chuckled and finally stepped fully into the room.
“You’re lookin’ sharp, Commodore.”
“More or less,” Darren replied, rolling his wrist with a quiet crack.
Borsalino gave him a sidelong glance.
Behind those thick sunglasses, something cold and analytical flickered.
“I’ll admit—I didn’t expect you to pull off the North Blue Fleet.”
“That one took me by surprise.”
Darren’s eyes narrowed.
“Say what you came to say, Rear Admiral.”
Borsalino held up both hands in mock surrender.
“Heh. Busted.”
“Alright, alright. I’ve got something to run by you.”
His voice was slow and casual, but there was a sharpness under it.
“That fleet of yours… it’s impressive. The Germa 66 tech? Flying ships? Strategic genius.”
“But haven’t you noticed?”
“Even with all that, the firepower still doesn’t quite measure up.”
Darren sat up straighter, muscles tense beneath the thin medical robe.
“…What are you getting at?”
Borsalino’s smile widened.
“Marines are forming a new special unit. A science division.”
“They’ll be responsible for integrating Dr. Vegapunk’s inventions into actual combat scenarios.”
“Recently, the doctor’s made… let’s just say, some very interesting breakthroughs.”
Darren’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“You’re looking for live testing, right? Field data.”
“Exactly,” Borsalino said.
His sunglasses reflected a ghostly gold shimmer as he raised a finger.
“So, Darren… you want a taste of what comes next?”
Darren’s eyes narrowed.
“What kind of weapon are we talking about?”
Borsalino raised one finger toward the ceiling.
“This one.”
From the tip of his finger, heat shimmered into the air like a mirage.
Then came the light—radiant, golden, humming with destruction.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Volume 2 sets sail.
All support is welcome.
Chapter 100: Chapter 2: The Apology
Summary:
“I take it back. You’re reckless, greedy, and arrogant… but you're a damn good Marine.” — Gion
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“A laser cannon... already? On a Pacifista?”
From his bed, Darren watched as Borsalino—calm as ever—ducked his head and strolled out of the hospital room with that irritatingly casual gait.
Darren’s eyes narrowed.
So… Vegapunk’s already managed to recreate Devil Fruit energy into a weaponized form?
That was no small feat.
And more importantly, it was a huge surprise.
At this point in time, the Shichibukai system hadn’t even been established yet. Bartholomew Kuma—the tyrant turned Pacifista prototype—had likely not even set sail.
That meant those terrifying laser-firing units that wreaked havoc at Sabaody Archipelago in the future canon… they didn’t exist yet.
They weren’t even concepts.
But what if…
What if the North Blue Fleet could be equipped with those very weapons?
Imagine it—row upon row of flying warships breaking through the clouds, descending from the sky like gods of destruction. Each vessel armed with state-of-the-art laser cannons, vaporizing enemies with impunity.
A perfect storm of technological supremacy.
The mere thought sent a jolt of excitement through Darren’s spine.
If this plan came together, he would make the so-called “great pirates” of this sea understand one thing:
What it truly meant to go up against science.
Knock knock knock.
A gentle tapping broke his thoughts.
“You may enter,” he called out.
The door creaked open—and in walked a striking woman in heels, her every step crisp and commanding.
Long black hair flowed behind her, and beneath that stoic expression was the kind of beauty that inspired both admiration and dread.
Gion—known throughout the Marines as “the Flower of the Marine”
Darren raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the rarest of guests.”
Gion shot him a cold glance, then calmly placed a bouquet of fresh flowers on the bedside table.
“You’re still alive,” she said dryly. “Typical of villains. They always live longer than they should.”
Darren shrugged, unfazed.
Behind her, a second figure awkwardly leaned into the room. His face was swollen, nose bruised, and lips cracked—but he was still smiling.
“Lookin’ lively as ever,” said Tokikake, voice half cheerful, half painful.
Darren broke into laughter the moment he saw the state of his fellow Marine.
“Tokikake, what the hell happened to your face? Got into a bar fight at a brothel?”
Tokikake’s already-red face flushed deeper. He glanced nervously at Gion and muttered something incoherent.
Bullseye.
Darren twitched, a few dark lines surfacing on his forehead. He shook his head in disbelief.
“So… what brings you two here?”
Gion stepped forward, her tone returning to professional.
“The officer training camp is about to begin. Both Tokikake and I have been assigned to this session. We’ll be heading to Marine Headquarters together… with you.”
Darren nodded calmly.
“I saw the list. Makes sense.”
Given their strength and achievements in the North Blue, it was no surprise the two of them were invited to join early.
Sure, it was a bit ahead of schedule—but Sengoku probably had his reasons.
Probably also wants me to babysit them again, Darren mused.
“Congratulations,” he said aloud.
Gion gave a small nod, turned to leave—but then paused mid-step.
She stood there in silence for a moment… then turned back.
“Captain Darren…” She hesitated. “No. Commodore Darren. I think… I owe you an apology.”
Darren raised an eyebrow, interest piqued.
“Oh? Now that’s unexpected.”
“I take back what I said about you before,” Gion said softly.
“Even if you smoke, drink, chase money and women, enjoy violence, and crave authority…”
She bit her lower lip.
“You’re still a damn good Marine.”
Darren chuckled, eyes narrowing with amusement.
“Fair enough. Sounds like someone saw something.”
She said nothing.
But in her mind, the image burned clear: a small flower shop in a coastal town. A father and daughter with changed hairstyles and new clothes—but the little girl’s bright smile had given them away.
Darren’s grin widened.
“But I gotta admit,” he said, “I kinda liked the old version of you more—that wild, untamed look.”
Gion’s expression darkened instantly. She turned sharply and stomped out of the room in rapid, high-heeled steps.
Darren's laughter followed her down the hallway.
Tokikake stood there shaking his head, looking almost awed.
“Damn. I’ve never seen Gion apologize to anyone.”
Darren smirked. “Never before doesn’t mean never will.”
“Ugh. Stop acting cool, will you?” Tokikake groaned.
Then, as if struck by a sudden memory, he wrapped an arm around Darren’s shoulders and leaned in close.
“But seriously, man… you’re so ungrateful. You took down someone like Byrnndi World, and you didn’t even let me join in!?”
He raised a clenched fist, eyes blazing.
“You have no idea what it felt like—watching you from the sky while you fought like hell down there. I was trembling with battle-lust!”
“Oh? From what Momonga told me, you were trembling alright—he said you turned pale and almost crushed the railing from how bad your hands were shaking.”
“That’s because I’m afraid of heights, alright!?”
Tokikake flushed red with indignation.
“Afraid. Of. Heights. Ever heard of that?”
“If you’d just let me down there, we could’ve fought side by side! Hell, we wouldn’t have even needed Borsalino—just the two of us could’ve taken Waldo!”
He groaned, half mad, half fantasizing.
“It would’ve been the perfect story: ‘Tokikake, Marine genius of Headquarters, defeats legendary pirate!’ Imagine how many ladies—er, civilians would’ve admired me! I’d be the face of justice!”
Darren gave him a sidelong glance.
“Pretty sure you already told that version of events to a few dozen people.”
Tokikake choked.
“I—I—I…”
He sat down with a huff, grabbed the nearest fruit basket, and began savagely munching a watermelon slice.
Darren just laughed and shook his head.
He rose from the bed, stretched, and reached for his freshly pressed uniform.
Then, from the coat rack, he pulled down a brand-new Justice cloak—pure white, emblazoned with conviction.
“I’m heading out.”
Tokikake, mouth full, asked, “Where to?”
“Red-light district.”
“Whoa, wait! Take me with you!”
“Pretty sure Gion will murder you.”
“Wha—no! I was just… testing your morals! I’m a man of virtue! I’d never go to a place like that.”
“Oh? That’s a shame. I was gonna use up the free member cards I got as a ‘get well soon’ gift.”
“Commodore Darren! Those things are a disgrace to Marine values! Let me destroy them personally—I swear I’ll do it thoroughly!”
“….”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
A simple click, a quiet thank you —
It’s the little things that keep stories alive.
Chapter 101: Chapter 3: Don’t Disappoint Me
Summary:
“Some people speak with guns. Others? They only need to enter the room.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The crumpled newspaper slipped from his fingers and drifted to the floor.
A sudden breeze fluttered through the open window, catching the curtains and sending them into a slow, spiraling dance—like waves folding over waves.
Donquixote Doflamingo leaned back into the soft leather of his armchair, one hand draped over his forehead, the other holding his cigarette, long since gone cold.
A low laugh rumbled in his throat.
“Hehhahaha…”
The corners of his lips curled into a grin, laughter growing louder, breath catching in between.
“A lunatic… an absolute lunatic…”
“Byrnndi World, one of the last living monsters of the old era… really taken down in the North Blue? By him!?”
His voice cracked as he spoke, disbelieving. Just picturing it—that man, the one who once crushed even Doflamingo himself like a child, now lying cold and broken in some forgotten battlefield—it was so absurd, so unreal, that he laughed until his whole body shook.
Not far from the family council chamber, Trebol and the others stood frozen, eyes locked on the headlines. Their faces were masks of pure disbelief.
Then—
“So? Do you like the outcome?”
The voice was smooth, calm—and laced with quiet amusement. It echoed as it approached.
Trebol and the others flinched. A chill ran down their spines.
Then came the sound—BOOM!—a blast of displaced air and magnetism. And from above, a tall figure descended, riding a sleek silver hoverboard that hummed with raw energy.
He landed in perfect balance. The Justice cloak rippled behind him.
The board, as if alive, slithered upward, transforming midair into a silver-metal bracer that locked neatly around his wrist.
Rogers Darren.
Doflamingo looked up from his seat and smiled faintly.
“Well, I didn’t expect this… Godfather.”
Darren strode across the chamber, stopping before Doflamingo. His eyes were sharp, unreadable, and filled with something far more dangerous than anger—command.
He extended his left hand.
“You are my godson, Doffy.”
His voice was soft, but his gaze hardened into slits.
“And I want you to remember this—anyone who dares to harm you… will face the punishment they deserve.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“Anyone.”
Doflamingo’s smile faltered. For a breath, he was silent.
Then, without a word, he dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and lightly kissed the back of Darren’s offered hand.
“Thank you, Godfather,” he said quietly.
Darren’s smile returned, pleased.
“Rise. Now—what’s the situation in the underground lately?”
Doflamingo stood, his posture composed again.
“Nothing major has changed. Under your protection, the Donquixote Family now controls nearly all major sectors of the North Blue’s underworld.”
“As for the Grand Line, we’ve made inroads. Several routes and trade networks have already been broken open. I believe it won’t be long before the Donquixote flag flies across those waters as well.”
Darren nodded, then offered a subtle warning.
“Just watch your pace. The Grand Line isn’t the North Blue. Move too quickly, and you’ll draw attention—not all of it favorable.”
Doflamingo blinked.
The meaning was clear. The Grand Line was full of unpredictable powers. The Marine branches marked with “G” scattered across the route, and the monsters who called Marineford home—they weren’t the kind of enemies one picked a fight with lightly.
Here in the North, he had free reign—because Darren, the true King of the North Blue, stood behind him.
But the Grand Line was another world.
“Patience, Doffy,” Darren said gently, ruffling the younger man’s hair with surprising affection.
Doflamingo hesitated.
“Godfather… when will you depart for Marineford?”
“In less than a week,” Darren replied. “I’ll leave two days early.”
He glanced over his shoulder—Trebol and the others had vanished without a trace.
Darren sighed. “Before I go, I want you to handle something for me.”
Doflamingo lowered his head, shadows from his sunglasses darkening his expression.
“Say the word, Godfather.”
“Byrnndi World died here, in the North Blue,” Darren said, lighting a cigar. Smoke coiled around his chiseled features.
“I want you to activate every contact, above ground and below, and track down everything related to the Moa Moa no Mi.”
Doflamingo’s pupils contracted behind his lenses.
The Moa Moa no Mi.
A Paramecia-type fruit that allowed the user to multiply the speed and size of anything they touched—including their own body. He’d seen it firsthand, watched World’s overwhelming force up close.
Was this Darren’s goal from the very beginning?
To take the fruit?
“I understand. I’ll find it,” he said quietly.
“Good.” Darren turned, the bracer on his wrist melting back into its sleek hoverboard form, hovering near his feet.
He stepped on.
Just as Doflamingo relaxed, thinking the godfather was about to leave—
“Doffy.”
Darren’s voice came again, sharp and close.
Doflamingo’s heart lurched in his chest.
“Yes, Godfather?”
Darren smiled without warmth.
“I’m leaving the North Blue to you now.”
“I expect great things from you. Don’t disappoint me… understood?”
Doflamingo bowed his head lower.
“You have my word.”
“One more thing—if you can’t reach me directly, contact Momonga. He’ll be taking over as the next Supreme Commander of the North Blue in my place.”
With that, Darren turned forward.
The magnetic field surged, and with a thunderous pulse, the hoverboard launched him skyward, vanishing into the clouds.
The impact rocked the council chamber. Wind whipped through the open windows, scattering papers and sending the heavy curtains into a wild frenzy.
Doflamingo remained kneeling, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He hadn’t even noticed it forming.
“Doffy! You alright!?”
Trebol and the others peeked in nervously from the side entrance, looking around to confirm Darren was truly gone.
“What the hell did that guy want from you?”
“…He asked me to find a Devil Fruit.”
Doflamingo slowly stood, hands braced against his knees.
He reached for the nearest cigarette, lit it with a trembling hand, and took several sharp drags.
His eyes were bloodshot.
“That bastard…” he rasped.
“He’s gotten even stronger.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
If you enjoyed the chapter, leaving a kudo would mean a lot.
Thank you for reading and being part of this journey!
Chapter 102: Chapter 4: Rear Admiral Monkey D. Dragon
Summary:
“Strength is truth. The sea only respects one of them.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Marine 321st Branch – Marine Hospital
The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as the middle-aged doctor carefully examined Darren's body, eyes narrowing behind his thin-rimmed glasses.
Scars crisscrossed the Marine's skin like a battlefield map—some faint, some still pink and new. They itched, but the pain had long since faded.
“Hmm… the wounds are healing well. No real complications.” The doctor clicked his tongue and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Your body, honestly... it's monstrous.”
He’d treated Darren for years and had long grown accustomed to his inhuman recovery rate. Still, the sheer resilience was always shocking.
“Appreciate it, Doctor Wells,” Darren said with a wry smile. “I guess I’ve just gotten used to being injured. Habit’s a scary kind of strength, isn’t it?”
Doctor Wells gave a tired chuckle and began packing away his tools. “If I told you to stop throwing yourself into fights, that’d be stupid, wouldn’t it?”
Darren shrugged. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but… some things aren’t really my choice. Trouble just keeps showing up.”
He buttoned up his shirt.
“And besides… for a Marine, getting hurt is as routine as eating or sleeping.”
“Is that so?” Wells murmured, shaking his head. He knew better than to argue with someone like Darren.
Still, he paused before adding, “Try to avoid anything too intense for the next few weeks—by which I mean life-or-death fights or one of your ‘near-suicidal training sessions.’”
“I’ll try,” Darren said, grinning.
As the doctor washed his hands at the sink, he asked casually, “I heard you’re heading to Marineford?”
“Yeah. Time for training. I’ve spent enough years here in the North Blue.”
Darren slung his coat over one shoulder, paused, and gave a slight bow toward the doctor’s back.
“Thanks for taking care of me all these years.”
The running water seemed to quiet for a second. Doctor Wells didn’t turn.
“Go on, kid,” he finally said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “All those wounds, all those close calls I dragged you back from... wasn’t it all for this moment?”
“Now go show those Grand Line bastards what a real man from the North Blue looks like.”
Darren let out a laugh as he tossed on his Marine cloak and headed out the door.
“That’s the plan!”
---
Morning, after the rain.
The sky was brilliant, streaked with golden beams breaking through scattered clouds. Shafts of sunlight filtered down like heavenly spears, painting the sea with glimmering trails of light.
“Any idea how long until the ship from HQ arrives?”
Darren stood at the edge of the dock, his Justice cloak fluttering in the salty breeze. He stretched with a satisfied groan, soaking in the fresh air.
“Shouldn’t be much longer,” said Momonga, glancing at the horizon.
He turned to Darren. “Doctor Wells cleared you?”
Darren chuckled. “He did. Told me to avoid ‘intense movement.’”
Momonga raised an eyebrow. “Reasonable advice.”
Of course, Darren wasn’t exactly the type to avoid trouble.
Momonga said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the endless ocean—its shimmering surface dancing beneath the rising sun. There was a hunger in his gaze, a quiet yearning.
“I’ll speak with command,” Darren said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Next time, you’re going with me.”
Momonga exhaled, slow and steady. “The North Blue needs someone reliable.”
Darren’s face turned serious.
“Momonga... I know the North matters. But your growth matters more.”
“Rank, fame, wealth—those things don’t mean anything in the end. Out here, strength is everything.”
“A lot of people never understand that. But I know you’re not one of them.”
Warmth flickered behind Momonga’s calm expression. He clenched his fist and nodded.
Darren smiled again. “I wonder who HQ’s sending this time?”
Traditionally, before training camps began, Marineford would dispatch a high-ranking officer to escort new cadets from the Blues to ensure safe arrival.
Momonga smirked. “Hoping for Rear Admiral Sakazuki, are you?”
Darren cracked his neck. “He always kicked my ass. Even back when we were both in the North Blue.”
“And now that he’s graduated... yeah, I definitely still can’t beat him.”
A cold voice cut in from behind them.
“So you’re stupid enough to want another beating?”
Gion strode up, looking as sharp as ever, her heels tapping against the dock. Behind her trailed Tokikake—half-awake and yawning like a lazy cat.
Darren laughed. “Hey, getting beat up is a skill too. Besides, lying in bed for days? I’m starting to rust.”
Gion opened her mouth, but Momonga interrupted.
“They’re here.”
All eyes turned to the horizon.
A massive Marine battleship crested the gold-lit sea, slicing through the water like a floating fortress.
Then—
WHOOOSH!
The wind roared to life. Waves crashed violently against the harbor. Flags whipped like gunshots, and the entire dock shuddered beneath the force of a sudden, inexplicable storm.
“What the hell’s going on?!”
“Is this a storm front?!”
“Why is the weather changing so fast?!”
The Marines on patrol stumbled as the gale hit, barely staying on their feet.
Darren narrowed his eyes.
A gloved hand pierced through the greenish stormfront, reaching straight for his face.
But Darren was already moving.
He was smiling.
He sidestepped the strike, energy flaring through his body as he snapped forward, elbow thrusting like a bolt of thunder.
WHOOSH!
The arm vanished midair.
Behind!
Darren twisted his hips, dropped low, and punched backward without looking.
BANG!
Fists collided. A deep, concussive blast rang out, sending shockwaves rippling behind them. Their cloaks flared out like wings in the storm.
“I heard a monster in the North Blue was strong enough to rival Sakazuki,” came a booming voice.
“That he killed Byrnndi World, the living legend.”
“Now I see—it’s not just a rumor.”
The storm peeled back like curtains as the man revealed himself.
Long, black hair whipped in the wind. He had no eyebrows. His face was sharp, stormy—commanding.
He stepped forward, lowering his fists with a smile.
“First time meeting, Commodore Darren. Forgive my directness.”
He offered a salute, formal but filled with vitality.
“Your reputation made it impossible not to test you.”
“I’m the one assigned to escort this year’s cadets from the North Blue.”
“Rear Admiral, Marine Headquarters… Monkey D. Dragon.”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
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Chapter 103: Chapter 5: Two Opposites
Summary:
“The sun doesn't reach every uniform.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The storm ended as quickly as it had begun.
The roaring winds died, and the skies above the harbor cleared once more—bright, cloudless, and blue. The golden sunlight poured down, casting a warm glow across Dragon’s calm, smiling face.
There was something in that smile—gentle, effortless—like the breeze after rain.
“W-wait a minute... Monkey...? Are you Vice Admiral Garp’s…?”
Tokikake stood frozen, mouth agape, expression frozen in a comically lopsided grin.
Garp, the Hero of the Marines, was a name known across the entire sea—and so was the rumor that his own son held a position of authority within the Marine.
But unlike many officers stationed safely at Headquarters, Garp’s son had personally volunteered for patrol duty across the Grand Line. That’s why Tokikake had never seen him in person—until now.
Dragon turned to him with that same soft smile.
“You must be Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, right? I don’t spend much time at HQ, but even in the Grand Line, your reputation as a genius reaches our ears.”
Tokikake blinked, then suddenly turned crimson.
“O-oh! Genius? That’s... that’s really just an exaggeration! You’re too kind, Rear Admiral Dragon!”
He twirled in place, red hearts metaphorically blooming above his head, internally squealing:
“Garp the Hero’s son! He called me a genius!! Hahahaha!!”
Dragon chuckled, then turned toward Gion, his gaze gentle.
“It’s been a while, Gion.”
A rare, genuine smile softened Gion’s usual stern face.
“Too long, Dragon-nii.”
They were both second-generation Marines—children born into the military elite. Naturally, they’d known each other growing up.
From the sidelines, Darren watched with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling.
So she can smile like that.
It was the first time he’d seen that kind of smile on Gion’s face—warm, sincere.
He had to admit… Dragon, future leader of the Revolutionary Army, had a charisma unlike anyone else.
Then Dragon turned toward Momonga, his expression calm but purposeful.
“Let me guess—this is Commodore Darren’s right-hand man, Deputy Commander of the 321st Branch, Lieutenant Commander Momonga?”
Caught off guard by the genuine friendliness in Dragon’s voice, Momonga straightened, almost awkwardly.
“Yes, sir. Rear Admiral Dragon.”
He raised a crisp salute.
“No need for such formality,” Dragon said, waving his hand. “We’re all comrades here.”
He paused for a moment, then added with a smile, “Ah, almost forgot—congratulations are in order.”
“The appointment just came through from HQ. Starting today, you’ll be the new Supreme Commander of the North Blue.”
“Captain Momonga.”
He raised his hand, and from the nearby Marine battleship, a young sailor leapt off the deck and sprinted over, handing Dragon a document with practiced precision.
“Rear Admiral Dragon!”
“Thanks, Felmer.”
The young Marine blinked in surprise, then looked up at Dragon with wide, gleaming eyes.
He remembered my name?!
Felmer had only boarded Dragon’s ship two days ago. Hundreds of crew on board… and yet the Rear Admiral had remembered him.
That was the kind of man Dragon was.
With utmost solemnity, Dragon handed the document to Momonga.
“Congratulations, Captain Momonga—the new commander of the North Blue.”
Momonga accepted it with both hands.
“All glory… belongs to justice.”
They saluted each other.
Then Dragon turned, his sharp eyes landing on Darren.
“Commodore Darren, my ship needs a bit of resupplying. We still have some time before departure. Care to talk?”
Darren grinned. “Of course, Rear Admiral.”
Just what I wanted.
Even if Dragon hadn’t suggested it, Darren would’ve initiated the conversation himself.
After all, this was Dragon during his Marine years—long before the world would know him as the most dangerous revolutionary alive.
What was this young Dragon like?
What kind of justice did he believe in?
How did he feel about the World Government?
One thing was already clear: Dragon had a presence. A natural ease. A quiet authority that drew respect without effort.
He smiled warmly, treated every subordinate with dignity, and walked with the air of someone born to lead.
He was a leader. Through and through.
“This way, Rear Admiral.”
Darren gestured toward the base commander’s office, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, the two men walked off, shoulder to shoulder.
Back at the docks…
“Psst. Gion. You see what I see?”
Tokikake sidled up beside her, voice low, eyes gleaming.
“Those two… couldn’t be more different if they tried.”
Gion blinked, then looked toward the fortress entrance.
Darren and Dragon walked side by side—equal in stride, similar in height and build.
But then she noticed the light.
Dragon walked beneath golden sunlight.
Darren walked within shadow.
Their Justice cloaks billowed behind them, but the contrast in light cast them in stark duality.
Left and right.
Shadow and sun.
Black and white.
Two men.
Two paths.
---
At that same moment…
Somewhere in the Grand Line.
A massive Marine battleship cut through the waves, its wake splitting the sea like a blade.
“Admiral Sengoku, at our current speed, we’ll arrive at HQ by nightfall.”
Sengoku nodded. “Understood.”
He was in a good mood. No—he was in a great mood.
Byrnndi World had been eliminated. The World Government had already issued formal commendations.
Sure, he hadn’t personally fought in the battle—but officially, the mission had been carried out under his command.
Even the Gorosei had expressed their approval, praising the operation’s success and encouraging Sengoku to keep up the good work.
And then there was the tech.
The North Blue Fleet’s airborne ships and weaponry… they had opened his eyes to new possibilities. He was already imagining what Marineford’s elite squadrons would look like with that kind of firepower.
Sengoku flipped open the file Darren had submitted: a detailed breakdown of the North Blue’s weapons and costs.
He chuckled.
“Pfft… it’s just money. If the North Blue could afford it, then Marine Headquarters—”
He stopped.
Froze.
Stared.
And then—stood up so fast his chair toppled.
“——WHAT?!”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
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Chapter 104: Chapter 6: A True Son of Garp
Summary:
“Justice is expensive. Family? Sometimes even more.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sengoku stared at the figures printed on the procurement list, his fingers stiffening around the paper. The numbers blurred slightly—either from his aging eyesight or from sheer disbelief.
Line after line of tiny, precise digits filled the page. But it wasn’t the quantity that rattled him—it was the number of zeroes trailing behind each item.
"This... this has to be a mistake..."
He pulled off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on—surely, he was just exhausted, sleep-deprived.
But the numbers hadn’t changed.
Every single item… carried a price tag that made his skin crawl.
High-voltage stun rifle: 500,000 Berries.
Portable rocket launcher: 1,000,000 Berries.
Flamethrower: 800,000 Berries.
Ship-mounted medium ballistic missile—the same type that sank Byrnndi World’s final pirate ship: 8,000,000 Berries. Each.
That’s right. Eight million per missile.
And the ship upgrades?
Sengoku nearly fell out of his chair.
Hundred million Berries just to modify the keel of a single medium-class warship!?
Hundred million! You could build two ships from scratch with that!
(And at this point in time, Berries were worth even more than in the present day.)
He did some quick mental math—and the final figure made his jaw clench.
Ten ships. Two thousand elite North Blue Marines.
Factoring in the tech, ammo, and equipment, the total cost of the North Blue Fleet deployed to subdue Byrnndi World came to at least two billion Berries.
Two. Billion.
And that didn’t even include combat losses, destroyed weapons, or supplies.
But Byrnndi World’s bounty?
Four hundred million.
Sengoku slumped forward and cradled his face in one hand.
To put it bluntly—that victory had been bought with pure, unapologetic gold.
“That damn brat… where the hell did Darren get this kind of money?!”
He was gritting his teeth now.
He refused to admit that jealousy had twisted his face.
As an Admiral and one of the leading candidates for Fleet Admiral, Sengoku had complete oversight of Marineford’s finances.
Two billion Berries was… unfathomable.
That was nearly an entire quarter’s operating budget for Marine Headquarters.
That money didn’t just pay for warships—it funded the bases, fortress maintenance, weapon upkeep, soldier wages, and everything in between.
When you subtracted the essentials, Marineford only had about 300 million Berries left in flexible funds each quarter.
And Darren? He blew through two billion like it was pocket change—and sounded like he still planned to expand the North Blue Fleet.
“…He’s lost his mind. Completely insane…”
Sengoku muttered into his hands.
---
Back in the 321st Branch – Base Commander’s Office
As the door clicked shut, Dragon’s warm, easygoing smile vanished.
His gaze sharpened into something razor-edged, voice low and serious.
“So it’s true, then?”
“You’ve got Doflamingo—Donquixote Doflamingo, the head of the underworld in the North Blue—working for you.”
Darren raised an eyebrow… and grinned.
“Not exactly,” he said, lighting a cigar. “Doffy’s my godson.”
“Your… godson?” Dragon frowned.
Darren hopped onto the desk casually, blowing out a thin trail of smoke.
“It’s a North Blue thing. We have a saying up here:
‘This world’s too dangerous—every kid should have two fathers.’”
“Doffy lost his real parents young. No guidance, no discipline. When he came to the North, he made a lot of mistakes. Bad ones.”
“I punished him. He learned. He’s changing now—trying to do better.”
“As Marines, we can’t just let gifted kids rot, right?”
“We’re supposed to offer them a path back.”
Dragon’s brow tightened.
“You’re telling me… Doflamingo accepted you as his… godfather?”
Darren spread his arms.
“Sure did.”
Dragon’s eyes narrowed. “You do realize who he is, don’t you?”
“He’s more than just ‘a gifted kid.’”
Darren smiled but didn’t answer.
He wasn’t trying to hide the truth. Not really.
After the operation against Byrnndi World, anyone with half a brain could probably piece together the real relationship between Darren and the Donquixote Family.
Hell, Sengoku definitely knew.
The old fox was sharp.
But instead of confronting Darren before leaving the North Blue, he’d sent Dragon.
That alone said something.
Dragon wasn’t a senior officer. This wasn’t an interrogation.
But as the son of Garp, the Hero of the Marines, Dragon had… weight.
His presence alone was a sign of respect.
If HQ wanted someone’s head, they’d have sent Vice Admiral Tsuru, not Dragon.
And so… the office fell into silence.
The kind of silence where you could hear a pin drop.
Until—
“HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Dragon suddenly burst out laughing and threw an arm around Darren’s shoulders, clapping him hard on the back.
“You’re insane, Darren!!”
“Godfather to a Celestial Dragon’s spawn?! Only you would pull that off!”
“Bahahaha!! That’s brilliant!!”
Darren stared, blinking.
Why the hell are you excited!?
“I’ve hated those pompous bastards for years!”
Dragon waved his fists in the air like a schoolkid on a sugar rush.
Then he froze.
“Ah—wait, nope. Didn’t say that. You heard nothing.”
Darren squinted at him.
Just seconds ago, this man had radiated leadership, calm authority, charm, and discipline.
Now…
Now he looked like a dumbass.
An oddly familiar kind of dumbass.
Darren sighed.
“…Rear Admiral Dragon.”
“Yeah?”
“You really are Garp’s son.”
“...Oh.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Every small act of support — a kudo, a comment — breathes life into this story.
Thank you for being part of this adventure with me.
Chapter 105: Chapter 7: Farewell with Honor
Summary:
“He never looked back. But they still saluted him.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Half a day later.
The midday sun hung high above the 321st Branch as the harbor buzzed with motion. Crates of supplies were being carried by handcarts and shoulder-loaded by Marines, then stacked neatly aboard the Marine warship. Everything was happening under direct orders from headquarters.
Laughter rang out from both the local Marines and the Headquarters crew. They worked side by side, hauling wooden boxes full of everything from fresh fruits and dried meats to rare cigars and imported whiskey.
To the Marines from HQ—used to rationed meals and rigid inventory—this felt like a luxury cruise. Many of them had never seen a branch as well-stocked and lively as this one. North Blue was colder than expected, but its people burned with warmth.
On the deck, Rear Admiral Monkey D. Dragon stood with a wide grin, taking it all in.
"North Blue hospitality is... something else," he mused.
He reached into a crate, pulled out a bag of senbei, and tore it open with his teeth. Loud, satisfying crunches followed as he munched openly.
"Dragon-nii, don’t let that scheming bastard Darren get to you," Gion muttered, arms crossed, brows knitting in disapproval.
Dragon chuckled without a hint of shame. "Me? I’m the model of Marine integrity."
Still chewing, he reached into another crate and pulled out a box of premium cigars. He plucked one, lit it, and leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
Gion watched in quiet horror.
"Damn that Darren... corrupting even the best of us."
To her, Dragon was more than a leader. He was a beacon—the son of the Hero of the Marines, born with both legacy and virtue. If someone like him succumbed to Darren's shameless ways, what hope was there for anyone?
"Gossiping behind a superior's back isn’t very Marine-like, Lieutenant Commander."
Darren's voice cut through the wind as he climbed aboard with his usual easy swagger.
Gion turned away with a scowl but said nothing.
"No salute for your superior? That’s not regulation, you know."
Grinding her teeth, Gion turned, saluted stiffly. "Commodore Darren."
Then walked off without another word.
Dragon scratched his chin, eyes twinkling.
"She’s feisty, but she respects you more than she lets on."
Darren shrugged. "Doesn’t bother me."
"How are you feeling? Leaving the North Blue after so many years."
Darren lit a cigar, exhaling slowly. His gaze drifted out to sea.
"It’s time. A man has to keep moving forward. Besides... I’m not gone forever."
Dragon nodded. "Spoken like a man ready for his next storm."
A booming voice echoed from the docks:
"Set sail!"
The great anchor groaned as it rose from the depths, dripping with seawater. The sails unfurled with a snap, catching the wind. Ink-black kanji reading "Justice" billowed across the fabric.
The warship groaned as it began its slow, steady departure.
At the railing, Tokikake collapsed in exaggerated despair.
"Farewell, Maria! Yui! Natsume! Ayaka! Madame Lorelle! Madame Skully! Madame Ficks! Don’t forget me!! Write me letters!! I’ll never forget your kindness!!"
Darren: …
Dragon: …
"Is he always like this?" Dragon asked slowly.
Darren rubbed his temples, exasperated. "Worse, actually."
Gion stormed past and grabbed Tokikake by the collar, dragging his lovesick form away like a sack of rice.
The ship left the dock, gliding toward open sea.
Darren stood tall at the bow, back to the base, cigar smoldering between his fingers.
"You’re not going to say goodbye?" Dragon asked.
"No point."
Darren had always lived by one principle—never look back.
For years, he’d marched forward without regret, and he had no intention of changing that now.
Dragon placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Maybe not for you. But they’re not the same."
And with that, he turned and headed below deck.
"Oh, and Darren? The rest of the journey’s yours."
Darren blinked. "Wait, what do you—"
A shout rang from the shore, powerful and commanding.
"ALL UNITS—PREPARE!"
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
A symphony of cannonfire roared into the sky.
Darren turned, stunned.
The entire 321st Branch was assembled at the dock—shoulder to shoulder in perfect formation. Thousands of Marines. Thousands of salutes.
They stood like a wall of blue and white. Some had tears in their eyes. Others trembled with pride.
At the front stood Captain Momonga, his uniform crisp, his bearing unshakable. He removed his hat, lifted his chin, and bellowed:
"SALUTE!"
The army responded like thunder.
A wave of arms rose in flawless unison, each salute carrying the weight of years served and bonds forged.
Darren stared.
A breath caught in his chest.
He turned slowly, tears threatening but never falling.
Straightening, he raised his arm.
Salute.
Behind him, the cannons fired again.
Colors burst into the sky—crimson, gold, sapphire.
"Farewell, Commodore Darren!!"
"Farewell, Commodore Darren!!"
The sound echoed across the sea, crashing like waves against the hull.
The ship slipped into the horizon.
Only when the port was a speck in the distance did Darren lower his arm.
He took one last drag on his cigar, steeling his expression.
He stepped into the cabin.
"Rear Admiral Dragon, about our naviga—"
He stopped.
Dragon was fast asleep on the floor, limbs sprawled, snoring like a bear. A bubble formed and popped at the edge of his nose.
Darren stood still.
Then smiled.
"So that’s what you meant."
He shook his head, walked to the nearest window.
Outside, the ocean stretched endlessly. Seagulls rose from the mast, wings slicing the sky.
Darren clenched his fist.
The next chapter had begun.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Even the strongest never walk alone.
If this farewell touched your heart, I would love to hear your thoughts.
Thank you for being here.
Chapter 106: Chapter 8: Clash with Dragon
Summary:
"Growth begins where comfort ends. A true path is forged through struggle."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The cabin of the warship rocked gently with the ebb and flow of the sea. The oil lamp on the table swayed slightly, casting flickers of light that danced between brightness and shadow.
Darren sat cross-legged on the floor, his tall frame motionless, eyes closed. Three coins floated around him in a steady orbit, spinning through the air with perfect rhythm.
Anyone watching closely would have been stunned—the speed, spacing, and flight path of those coins were utterly identical. Uncannily precise.
Like three miniature satellites revolving around a single planet.
The cabin was still.
Only the sound of waves crashing against the hull echoed faintly from outside.
And yet, as the seconds ticked by, a fine sheen of sweat began to bead on Darren’s forehead.
Faint arcs of blue electricity started crackling over his skin—early signs of magnetic overload.
Then, suddenly, as if the power holding them up had been severed, the three coins dropped at once.
Darren slowly opened his eyes and let out a long, heavy breath.
“…Definitely not as simple as I thought.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow.
Among the three major Devil Fruit types, the Paramecia class had always been the trickiest to develop.
For Zoan users, mastery came from adapting to the survival and combat instincts of the animal they transformed into—refining body and instinct until they achieved full control.
Logias, on the other hand, focused on becoming one with the element itself, evolving combat techniques from that natural form.
But Paramecia… was different.
Even within the Paramecia class, there were wildly different subtypes.
Take Charlotte Katakuri’s Mochi Mochi Fruit, a Special Paramecia. Or fruits like the Hobby-Hobby Fruit—borderline broken rule-bending powers that defied traditional classification.
Darren's Magnet-Magnet Fruit was another special case.
Unlike other fruits that altered the user’s own physiology, its power lay in manipulating external magnetic fields—specifically, controlling metal.
Over the years, through relentless experimentation, Darren had identified two primary ways to push the limits of his ability:
The first—adapting to the transport of larger and heavier metals, which helped increase the strength of his magnetic fields.
The second—enhancing the precision of control within the magnetic field’s range.
Directing all metal objects to move in the same direction within a field was relatively simple. He’d done it before—like when he manipulated cannonballs or even “steered” a warship.
But making multiple metallic objects move in different directions simultaneously within the same field? That demanded a complex magnetic lattice—immense concentration and neural control.
Difficult, yes. But effective. It allowed Darren to break past the development plateau he’d been stuck in for a while.
He extended his perception ability, a sort of internal sensing skill, checking his own stats:
Physique: 63.513
Strength: 61.395
Speed: 62.115
Fruit: 73.067
His Devil Fruit aside, the brutal fight with the infamous pirate Byrnndi World had pushed his physique, strength, and speed to new levels.
“Guess only top-tier battles can force real breakthroughs… No wonder Rayleigh trained Luffy for two years and got limited results—meanwhile, Kaido beat the Conqueror’s Haki into him in three swings.”
Darren chuckled sarcastically.
Of course, that was a joke.
Normal people didn’t come with Luffy’s protagonist halo or his freakish “sit-up and recover” resilience.
Anyone else taking three of Kaido’s hits would’ve been reduced to a smear on the ground.
That was why Darren pushed his body to the absolute limit—training obsessively, even using borderline self-harm techniques to increase his endurance.
In game terms: the higher your physique stat, the thicker your armor and HP bar. More margin for error. And only with that kind of durability could you possibly survive against overwhelming opponents.
Of course, that didn’t protect you from the age-old curse of “stacking the thickest armor just to get hit with the hardest punch.”
Still seated, Darren reached down and picked up the three fallen coins. Then he stood, ducked slightly to pass through the low cabin doorway, and stepped out into the blinding sunlight.
The brightness made him squint.
“You’re here. I’ve been waiting.”
A voice called out.
He turned toward it and saw Dragon, rising to his feet after a set of one-finger push-ups. Sweat dripped from his face, but he grinned wide.
He wore a loose shirt, buttons open at the chest to reveal a powerful torso. The combination of that sunlit smile and his rugged build gave off a strange, compelling beauty.
“I heard you're a training lunatic. There’s still a long way to Marine HQ. What do you say—spar a little?”
There was no mockery in Dragon’s tone, only eager, sincere anticipation—the excitement of facing a worthy rival.
Darren shot a quick glance at Tokikake, standing not far off. The latter instantly ducked behind the mast, caught in the act like a guilty child.
Darren chuckled dryly.
So that’s what this was. Tokikake must still be bitter from the “torment” he suffered back in the North Blue. Setting him up to get smacked around by Dragon for revenge, huh?
“Rear Admiral Dragon, I’m no match for you.”
Darren answered honestly, without hesitation.
According to intelligence gathered by Momonga, Dragon was a top graduate from the second generation of the Elite Officer Training Camp, with a final evaluation equal to that of Sakazuki.
The first generation’s top? Borsalino.
And that’s not even mentioning the fact that Dragon’s father was the Hero—Garp.
Yeah. Just think of all the “training” Luffy endured under Garp growing up. It stood to reason Dragon went through just as much hell.
In other words, Dragon had access to resources and inheritance beyond even Borsalino or Sakazuki.
Daren didn’t kid himself—he couldn’t match that.
More importantly… he hadn’t even mastered Haki yet.
His battle with Byrnndi World had made it crystal clear: there was a massive gulf between those who had Haki and those who didn’t.
“No problem. I won’t use Haki or my Fruit.”
Dragon’s eyes blazed as he cracked his knuckles, practically trembling with anticipation.
“This’ll be a good way for us to get to know each other.”
“Real men talk with their fists!”
That’s what I was waiting for!
Daren’s face lit up. No Haki, no Fruit? Just pure brawling?
Now that was his domain.
“Alright!”
He grabbed his collar and ripped his uniform and cloak off in one motion.
His upper body was revealed—layer upon layer of gruesome scars crisscrossed his skin, wild and raw. A primal, blood-soaked energy surged from his frame.
Dragon’s pupils shrank.
Just how many near-death fights had this guy survived to get here?
“Let’s go then, Rear Admiral Dragon!”
As the words left his mouth, Darren lunged forward like a hunting leopard.
Faced with an opponent leagues above him, he didn’t hesitate.
He struck first.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
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Chapter 107: Chapter 9: The Origin of Dragon Claw Fist
Summary:
"As sweat and steel collide, a technique is born."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The instant Darren launched himself forward at blinding speed, a gleam lit up in Dragon’s eyes. He moved just as quickly.
BOOM!!
Their forearms collided mid-charge with thunderous force, releasing a shockwave visible to the naked eye.
Even match.
No hesitation.
In midair, they shifted stances. Fists clashed. Elbows struck. A symphony of sharp cracks rang out.
The Marines on deck stared, eyes wide, holding their breath as the two powerhouses exchanged fierce, blistering blows.
“Nice!!”
Dragon’s eyes sparkled. He dodged Darren’s heavy straight punch with a slick pivot, then stepped in and threw a force-packed uppercut.
WHAM!
A white ripple bloomed across Darren’s chiseled abs. He slid backward several meters—then grinned savagely.
CRACK.
The deck split beneath their feet. The warship itself dipped half a meter into the sea from the recoil.
Using that backward momentum, Darren launched himself forward like a cannonball, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
He closed the distance in an instant, ghosting to Dragon’s side. With a lowered waist and a sharp twist, he swung a whip-like kick at Dragon’s face.
Dragon swayed just enough—his boots scraped past Darren’s leg, and the gust of wind blew his long black hair aside.
His hand shot out and caught Darren’s leg mid-air.
With a deep inhale, he prepared to slam Darren into the deck.
But Darren flipped the momentum, using Dragon’s grip as a fulcrum. His right leg came crashing down like a battle axe.
BOOM!!
Dragon blocked the strike with one arm.
Darren used the moment to break free and land. Then, like a tiger leaping from the mountain, he pounced again.
His fists blurred, attacking with terrifying speed—a storm of punches turning the air into shadows, descending upon Dragon.
“Hahahahaha! This is great!!”
Dragon roared with laughter, not backing down an inch as he countered with his own barrage.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Like heavy rain on steel, their strikes pounded each other’s bodies without pause.
Captain Tokikake and Gion stood on the sidelines, stunned. Their mouths twitched.
Neither man was aiming for the other's fists.
Every hit landed on flesh.
Full-contact. No guard. No dodge. Pure madness.
---
Half an hour later…
Darren and Dragon lay sprawled on the deck, limbs outstretched, chests heaving.
The entire warship looked like it had been trampled by giants. Craters scarred the deck. One of the cannons had been punched straight into the floor.
Sweat poured from their battered bodies, blood staining the corners of their mouths.
The Marines stared in blank disbelief.
They had never seen a fight like this in their entire lives.
Correction: they had never seen a fight this stupid in their lives.
No defense. No evasion. Just raw fists to the body and face, over and over. Absolute idiocy.
“Damn, your body’s hard as steel…”
Dragon sat up, wiping the blood from his lips with a laugh.
Though he had the advantage in strength and speed, Darren’s defense was on another level.
Even without Armament Haki, he couldn’t break through Darren’s iron body.
It was infuriating—and exhilarating.
“Your punches aren’t too bad either.”
Darren sat up too, grinning.
Sparring with someone trained by both Zephyr and Garp was the perfect way to refine his stats. This match had been anything but a waste.
Dragon looked at Darren’s smile and chuckled to himself.
Maybe this mission to the North Blue wasn’t so bad after all. This guy… felt like someone he could really get along with.
“But still… fists cover too much surface area. I can’t break through.”
Dragon muttered to himself, studying his own hands.
Thick knuckles. Power packed in every inch.
Darren, wiping sweat from his face, replied lazily, “If you want a smaller contact area, maybe… try using your fingers.”
That was the core idea behind Shigan, one of the Six Powers.
“Fingers…”
Dragon’s gaze sharpened. A thought clicked.
“—That’s it!! Hahaha! Darren, you genius!!”
He slapped his thigh and burst out laughing.
Darren swore he saw a lightbulb appear over his head.
Dragon raised his right hand.
He twisted his fingers into an awkward gesture—index and middle fingers together, ring and pinky together, thumb curled slightly inward.
Three-finger form. Slightly claw-like.
Darren’s pupils shrank.
That form—no way…
“Using finger strength… yes, that’s it. The thumb’s naturally strong, and grouping the fingers improves joint support. That should make it easier to coat with Armament Haki…”
Dragon murmured feverishly. Then, suddenly, he thrust the claw down toward the deck.
“Wait!!”
Darren grabbed his wrist just in time to redirect the strike.
Even with the shift, the partially focused blow grazed Darren’s upper arm.
SHNK.
A gash opened on his bicep. Blood sprayed.
Dragon stared, stunned.
“I… I broke through?”
That attack had only been at half power—and he’d pierced Darren’s defense!?
Impossible.
Darren rolled his eyes. “If that claw had landed on the ship, the whole thing would’ve split in half.”
Dragon scratched his head sheepishly, grinning. “Sorry, Darren…”
Darren waved it off. Flesh wounds were nothing—he’d scab over in minutes.
But inside… he felt like a herd of wild seakings was stampeding through his mind.
That attack… that gesture…
No doubt about it.
That was Dragon Claw Fist—the very technique Dragon would one day teach to Sabo, the one that would shine in the Dressrosa arena.
It was rough now, sure. But the foundation was unmistakable.
And all it took… was one spar.
Darren pressed his fingers to his temples.
Wait a sec.
Looking at Dragon’s dopey smile, a terrifying realization struck him—
Had he just become… Kaido-sensei!?
“Hahaha, Darren, seriously—thank you! I never thought sparring with you would help me invent a brand-new technique.”
Dragon threw an arm around his shoulder, beaming.
“Once I’ve polished it, I’ll teach it to you as thanks!”
“What do you think we should name it?”
Darren stifled the urge to facepalm.
“…Dragon Claw Fist.”
“Dragon Claw Fist… yeah! That’s perfect!!”
Dragon cheered, eyes sparkling.
Brrrr… Brrrr…
Suddenly, the Transponder Snail rang.
Dragon quickly pulled it out and answered.
“This is Dragon.”
A deep, commanding voice came through, tinged with killing intent.
“This is Kong.”
“Fleet Admiral Kong!”
Dragon shot upright, his tone sharp.
“Report your current sea zone,” Kong barked. Direct. No nonsense.
Dragon scratched his head and looked at Darren.
Darren sighed, lowering his voice. “We’re about to leave the North Blue and enter the Grand Line.”
Dragon repeated the same words to Kong.
A beat of silence.
“…Good. I have an urgent mission for you.”
Kong’s tone was iron.
“You are to safely transfer the North Blue officers under your escort, then proceed into the Grand Line at full speed.”
“Island coordinates will follow shortly.”
Dragon looked at Darren. “Fleet Admiral, what’s the mission objective?”
Silence again.
“…Assist Vice Admiral Garp. Seal the target sea zone…”
“…And arrest Gol D. Roger.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
A bookmark says, "I’ll be back."
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Chapter 108: Chapter 10: Do You Have a Problem With That, Darren?
Summary:
“If walking into the lion’s den makes your blood sing, maybe you were never meant to stand in the crowd.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Arrest... Gol D. Roger!?”
The moment Fleet Admiral Kong’s voice crackled out from the military Den Den Mushi, every Marine on the ship stiffened—faces pale, breath caught.
Gol D. Roger.
The man who stood at the very summit of the seas, a true living legend. Named alongside Whitebeard and Golden Lion Shiki, he was one of the three great pirate legends of the era.
Though unlike Shiki or Whitebeard, Roger didn’t command vast fleets. His crew was small—but each member was a monster in their own right. The Roger Pirates were the most well-rounded and impenetrable crew among the legends.
“You heard him,” Dragon said, hanging up the call. The warmth had vanished from his face, replaced by cold gravity. “Looks like my escort ends here.”
He turned toward the navigator. “Nearest island?”
“Sir! There’s a supply islet half an hour to the northeast!” the navigator saluted.
“Set course now. This is a direct order from HQ,” Dragon said as he looked at Gion and Tokikake. “You two don’t have a problem with that... do you?”
When serious, Dragon’s authority was absolute—none of his usual goofiness remained.
They exchanged glances and both shook their heads.
Orders from Fleet Admiral Kong left no room for discussion. And more importantly… they knew the truth:
They weren’t ready.
Taking part in a mission against a pirate like Roger… was suicide.
Among the Marines, there was an unspoken rule: Pirates of Roger’s level—Roger, Whitebeard, Shiki—were to be handled only by Admirals or equivalent-level forces. Everyone else was to stand down unless explicitly ordered otherwise.
“Darren,” Dragon said, turning to him. “You fought Byrnndi World, sure. And lived. But let’s be honest—luck played a big part. This isn't the same. Roger’s crew is stacked with high-level threats. This isn’t your fight.”
Gion and Tokikake nodded silently in agreement.
But then… Darren’s calm expression made them uneasy.
“Yeah… it’s a bit early for me,” Darren said with a surprising nod.
They sighed in relief—
Until he grinned.
The more he smiled, the more the bloodlust leaked into his gaze.
“...But I still want to go.”
“Are you insane!?”
Gion and Tokikake shouted at once, a chill running up their spines.
Because they knew Darren.
Once he decided something, nothing could change his mind.
“Hey hey, we’re talking about Gol D. Roger!!” Tokikake hissed. “This isn’t like those small-time North Blue pirates! Byrnndi World was strong, but Roger? He’s a different league!”
“Oh?” Darren raised an eyebrow.
Gion stepped in, sweat trickling down her neck.
“There are things you don’t know. Like... the God Valley Incident.”
That name alone made the air grow heavy.
Though the incident had been buried by the World Government, people like Gion and Tokikake—elite officers—knew the truth.
Eight years ago, a man had risen who even the World Government feared.
Rocks D. Xebec.
“He was the ruler of the seas before Roger,” Gion said. “He gathered monsters to his side—Whitebeard, Shiki, Kaido, Big Mom. They were all once part of the Rocks Pirates.”
“With that power, he challenged the World Government directly. Eight years ago, he attacked the Celestial Dragons’ residence. That battle… was the God Valley Incident.”
“The Marine mobilized. Vice Admiral Garp and Pirate Captain Roger... formed a temporary alliance. Together, they took down Rocks.”
“That’s when Garp became a hero.”
She looked at Darren seriously.
“Roger helped defeat Rocks. That’s the kind of power we’re talking about. He’s the most dangerous enemy the Marine has ever faced.”
And that’s why Gion tried to stop him.
She hated Darren—but she didn’t want to see him throw his life away.
But they had forgotten one thing.
Darren was... Darren.
“You make great points,” he said, grinning wide.
“Which makes me want to go even more.”
Gion froze.
Tokikake buried his face in his hands.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Like Darren, some battles you just can't walk away from.
If you're fired up too, toss a Kudo my way - let's charge forward together!
Chapter 109: Chapter 11: Face the Pirate King
Summary:
“Some men run from legends. Others chase them. And a rare few… demand to meet them face to face.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“...Damn it. I really forgot about that.”
Tokikake gritted his teeth and clawed at his hair, face twitching like it had been electrocuted.
“Are you five years old!?”
Gion’s voice sliced the air like a drawn blade, sharp with fury as she glared at Darren.
But Darren only shrugged, calm and unbothered. He turned to Dragon and smiled.
“Rear Admiral Dragon, you can leave Lieutenant Commander Gion and Lieutenant Commander Tokikake on the nearest island. But I’ve made my choice.”
“This is my decision alone. If something goes wrong—I’ll take full responsibility.”
Dragon’s gaze hardened. His voice dropped low.
“You’re sure?”
“This isn’t training. It’s not a skirmish. If we make contact, I won’t be able to protect you.”
Darren’s reply came with a grin.
“I’m sure.”
“And besides, you know if you did leave me behind, I’d just show up anyway.”
“I can fly.”
Dragon stared at him in silence, brows furrowed tight.
Gion and Tokikake looked on, tense and hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, Dragon could talk some sense into this lunatic.
One second.
Two.
Three...
“HAHAHAHA!!”
To their horror, Dragon suddenly threw an arm around Darren’s shoulder, roaring with laughter.
“You really are the kind of guy I can respect!”
He cracked his knuckles with a pop-pop-pop, each sound like a fuse being lit.
“Well then—let’s go take down Roger!”
He grinned like a man possessed.
Gion’s expression flatlined. Tokikake buried his face in both hands.
“Great. I forgot this guy’s crazy too…”
Dragon turned to the two lieutenants and flashed a bright smile. “I’ll drop you off at the island. You can signal HQ and wait for a nearby patrol to pick you up.”
“No need!!”
Gion’s jaw clenched so tightly her teeth almost cracked. The words hissed through her gritted smile like venom.
“Oh?” Darren smirked.
Tokikake’s fists shook. His voice was low, sharp, nearly breaking.
“We’re going too.”
The decision was made. Once Darren stepped forward, how could they shrink back?
They were Marines. They weren’t cowards.
Tokikake glared at Darren as if memorizing the man who would kill him. “I swear, I always knew I’d die because of you, bastard.”
Darren grinned. “Happy to make dreams come true.”
“Then it’s settled!” Dragon barked, wind whipping his cloak. “Full speed ahead!”
The warship veered, sails taut against the wind, carving across the sea toward destiny.
Darren stood at the prow, cloak flaring behind him, eyes blazing with a near-manic light.
Gol D. Roger.
The Pirate King.
The man who stood at the pinnacle of the world.
And he was right there, within reach.
The Grand Line’s clouds twisted ahead like a storm with a secret. Darren stared into that horizon—and within it, heard an echo.
"My wealth and treasure?"
"It can be yours if you want it!"
"Search for it!"
"I left everything in that one place."
A memory not his own flickered to life—a man atop the execution platform, laughing in the face of death, cloak billowing, gold-rimmed eyes daring the world to follow.
That laugh had birthed an era.
And Darren... would not be a bystander to history.
He would stand before the Pirate King himself.
---
Two hours later – The Grand Line
“Meteor Fist Barrage!!”
Hundreds of cannonballs tore through the air, black streaks against the sky, shrieking as they rained down on the Oro Jackson.
BOOOOM!
Columns of water blasted upward around the legendary ship. Explosions rippled through the clouds. Flames rose, smoke twisting like black serpents.
“ROGER!! QUIT RUNNING!! I WILL TAKE YOU DOWN THIS TIME!!”
Atop the figurehead of a Marine battleship shaped like a dog’s head, Vice Admiral Garp bellowed with fury. His fists hurled cannonballs like divine wrath, arms a blur of motion.
“THEN STOP CHASING ME, DAMN YOU!” came a roaring voice from the distant pirate ship.
“You’ve been on me for THREE. WHOLE. DAYS!! Don’t you EVER get tired!?”
On Garp’s ship, chaos reigned. Marines were sweating buckets, hauling mountains of cannonballs from storage to the deck’s conveyor system.
A steady stream of black spheres rolled toward the vice admiral like an offering to a war god.
At Garp’s side stood his aide—a sharp-eyed officer with a brown cap and saber at his hip. His gaze cut through the smoke and fire, tracking the slowly widening distance between the two ships.
The Oro Jackson danced between waves like a living creature. Built from Treasure Tree Adam, it was stronger, lighter, and faster than anything the Marines could match.
That speed… was how Roger had slipped through Garp’s fingers so many times.
If they didn’t act now, it would happen again.
The aide’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at the ship’s heavy cannons.
Five of them. Each one a monstrous weight.
If they dumped the guns—and the dead weight supplies—they could boost speed by at least thirty percent.
HQ had confirmed it. Rear Admiral Dragon was en route.
Until he arrived, they had one job:
Keep Roger in sight.
“Dump the cannons!!” the aide barked. “All of them! Overboard, now!!”
“But sir—how will we keep firing if—?”
A younger Marine paused mid-sentence as the rest turned to stare at him.
The color drained from his face. He saluted and ran to help.
“We must hold him,” the aide murmured, eyes fixed on the silhouette of the Roger Pirates’ ship dancing between waves and smoke.
“Just a little longer… then we strike.”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
If you're ready to stand before kings, not kneel-
Smash that Kudo and let's burn a path through history!
Chapter 110: Chapter 12: Clash with the Roger Pirates
Summary:
“A storm doesn't ask permission to arrive. And legends are forged not when the world is ready—but when the brave step into its path.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
BOOOOOM…
The cannonball struck the left hull of the Oro Jackson with a deafening roar. An explosion blossomed on impact, and the shockwave sent the entire ship tilting sideways. Seawater exploded upward in plumes, crashing down over the deck like a rainstorm.
"What a pain in the ass..."
Wiping the saltwater from his face, Gol D. Roger stood tall at the helm. Behind him, his crimson captain's coat flapped wildly in the wind stirred up by the blasts.
Despite his words, his face was lit with a wide, carefree smile.
"Rayleigh, maybe it’s time we stop running and have it out with Garp."
He glanced at his first mate with a gleam in his eye, flashing a row of brilliant white teeth.
"The Marines dumped their supplies. We can't shake them."
Standing beside him, Rayleigh, still with a head of golden hair and a dignified air, twitched the corner of his mouth.
"Garp’s still got some distance to close. You just want a fight."
Roger scratched his head with a laugh, caught red-handed.
"Can you blame me? That stubborn bastard’s been chasing us for three days straight! We haven’t even had a proper nap!"
He gestured toward the deck, where a young Shanks and Buggy stood with drawn daggers, nervously eyeing the distant warship. Both had dark rings under their eyes, looking like they'd been punched in the face by exhaustion.
"Guys like us can handle it. But those kids? They’re barely holding on."
Rayleigh frowned. He knew Roger was right. Veterans like them could fight for days, even weeks, without sleep. But the kids—they were just boys.
"I’m fine!! Captain Roger!! I can keep going! Not a problem!"
Shanks stepped forward, biting his tongue to fight off the wave of fatigue drowning his senses.
"Right, Buggy!?"
Buggy, barely upright, rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah... sure."
A sudden buzzing roar filled the sky.
More cannonballs sliced through the smoke above, falling like a storm of black meteors, dense enough to blot out the sun.
"ROGER!! YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY!!"
Garp's voice thundered from across the sea.
"So damn loud, Garp!!" Roger snapped back.
At his side, Rayleigh calmly stepped forward. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.
With a single leap, his figure vanished—reappearing midair.
CLANG!
His blade sang free of its sheath, unleashing a storm of radiant swordlight. The arcs of his slashes intertwined into a spiraling vortex—a whirlwind of pure sword aura.
The twisting gale rose with a scream, colliding with the rain of cannonballs.
BOOM!
One by one, the shells detonated midair. Fire and metal burst across the sky, painting it orange-red like a grand fireworks display.
The Roger Pirates had faced the Marines too many times to be surprised. This wasn't their first barrage.
As long as the ship held, they had room to escape.
"It never ends..."
Rayleigh landed smoothly, but frowned.
CRACK.
The mast groaned. The sail, which had been taut and forward, suddenly snapped backward.
The iconic gold-skulled jolly roger warped.
Rayleigh's eyes narrowed.
"That's..."
WHOOOOSH...
A windstorm howled across the sea. Waves rose like snarling beasts.
Their speed plummeted.
"What happened!?" "The wind shifted!?" "No way!" "Spencer, report!"
The crew turned to their navigator.
Spencer, gripping the rigging with white knuckles, shook his head.
"This wind isn't natural! It's not climate—it’s being manipulated!"
Everyone froze.
That could only mean one thing.
Rayleigh exhaled slowly.
"Prepare for battle."
No one asked questions. Weapons were drawn. Eyes sharpened. The deck bristled with tension.
Rayleigh turned to Roger, voice low.
"Well, looks like running isn’t an option anymore."
Roger blinked, then activated his Observation Haki. His eyes lit up with excitement.
Rayleigh turned toward the distant sea.
Through towering waves and clouds, a Marine warship tore through the ocean like a spear.
On its sails, the bold black kanji for "Justice" stood stark against white canvas.
"Garp’s reinforcements... have arrived."
Two tall figures stepped onto the bow.
Cloaks of pure white snapped in the wind. Their presence, sharp as steel, locked onto the Oro Jackson.
Rayleigh's eyes narrowed.
"That kid... he looks like Garp's son."
The waves crashed.
From across the sea, Dragon smiled.
He raised a hand. In his palm, a swirling orb of dark green wind began to form.
And then—
He threw it.
The sphere spun wildly, stretching, expanding, spiraling faster and faster.
It devoured the sky, twisting upward and downward at once.
In seconds, a monstrous waterspout towered above the sea.
"Tempest: Great Burial!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
No more running. No more waiting.
If you're ready to face the storm head-on, drop a Kudo and let's tear through the sky!
Chapter 111: Chapter 13: Now You Can’t Even Run
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sea writhed like a living beast, its surface torn apart by a storm beyond nature.
The massive waterspout continued to expand, its twisting column now stretching from the clouds above to the churning sea below. Winds screamed as though the heavens themselves were howling. Waves surged in every direction, breaking and folding into each other, creating a rift in the ocean wide enough to swallow fleets whole.
From afar, the view was apocalyptic.
The black spiral of storm clouds overhead had become a yawning vortex, swirling with such force it pulled even the light from the sky. It looked like a fortress of darkness collapsing inward. An invisible pressure weighed down on everything—the sea, the ship, the air in their lungs.
And in the eyes of the Roger Pirates, it felt as if space itself were warping around them.
“Wh-what the hell is that?! Is that climate manipulation?! That shouldn’t be possible!!”
“No—it’s a Logia-type! Wind control! A storm elemental!!”
“Damn it, if we get so much as clipped by that thing, the Oro Jackson is gone!”
The crew stared, transfixed and terrified. None of them had anticipated that the Marines might wield such a weapon—a Devil Fruit user who could bring nature to heel on such a terrifying scale.
The towering cyclone advanced like a god of destruction, grinding the sea beneath it to froth, pulling enormous waves in its wake, the likes of which could dash even warships to pieces.
“No, even Logias can’t just alter the weather like this—not this fast!”
Spencer, the Oro Jackson’s navigator, clung to the rigging. His hair was plastered to his face with seawater, and his drenched uniform clung to his frame. He shouted over the howling winds, knuckles white on the rigging.
“This whole sector was already loaded with storm clouds! And now, with those tropical pressure currents—his Devil Fruit’s power is being supercharged! It’s feeding off the environment!”
Lightning arced across the sky like cracks in glass. The entire crew was bathed in stark white light. Fear etched itself into their faces—but not panic. Not yet.
“HA HA HA HA!! Roger!! You’re mine this time!!”
Garp’s voice echoed from behind, barely distinguishable through the ongoing barrage of cannonfire.
The explosions never ceased. Shells kept falling like black rain from the heavens, forcing the crew into a constant dance for survival.
“AAAAAAHHH!! We’re done for! We’re really done for this time! Captain Roger, do something!!”
Buggy curled into himself, eyes wide and manic, arms shielding his head.
Shanks, beside him, had gone pale. He gripped his tiny dagger with both trembling hands, sweat and rain running down his cheeks.
In front: the cyclone. Behind: the Marine demon.
They were completely surrounded.
No exit. No hope.
The crew, almost as one, turned their eyes to the center of their world—the man standing at the bow.
Their captain.
Their hearts pounded. The salt in the wind stung their eyes, but the chill in their veins wasn’t from the storm.
But no one broke.
They waited.
Rain hammered the deck. Thunder rippled through the sky. Lightning strobed. The shadows danced.
Behind them, the cannonfire came closer. Before them, the storm swallowed the sea.
And Roger... didn’t move.
“Who said we were running?”
His voice cut clean through the storm.
A grin spread across his face. Bold. Wild. Familiar.
Rayleigh chuckled from where he leaned against the mast.
THUMP.
Roger stepped forward and placed a boot atop the prow of the Oro Jackson.
His hand settled on the hilt of his sword.
His head rose. Black hair whipped back. His eyes lit with fire.
The storm howled louder.
“If that’s how it is…”
Then, the man who would be Pirate King moved.
With a roar, he launched himself into the air. The wind buckled around him.
His crimson captain’s coat snapped in the gale like a battle flag.
The sword left its sheath, singing with power.
Black and red lightning crackled down the blade, coiling like serpents around his arm, his shoulder, his spine.
They weren’t lightning bolts—they were shackles broken free.
Roger’s aura exploded.
“THEN WE’LL TEAR THEM DOWN!!!”
He dived headfirst into the vortex.
Time stopped.
Then:
SHRRAAAAK!
A wave of sword energy—vast, violent, shaped like a crescent moon—exploded from the cyclone's center.
BOOOOOOM!!!
It ripped the storm apart.
Lightning detonated in every direction. Thunder split the heavens. The dark clouds shattered like glass. The sky screamed.
The winds died.
The sea calmed.
And Roger stood at the heart of the vanishing storm, his sword resting on his shoulder, his coat soaked in rain, his presence swallowing the world.
“HAHAHAHA!! Is that it? A storm? Please.”
“ROGER!! ABOVE YOU!!”
Someone shouted.
A hand—gloved in black leather—emerged from the remnants of the whirlwind. Fingers curved like claws. A blade of compressed wind in the shape of a hurricane spun down toward Roger’s skull.
The timing was perfect.
Dragon.
He had waited for Roger to commit.
He had attacked in the blind spot.
This was a strike meant to end the fight before it began.
Roger didn’t even look.
He grinned.
"I’ve been waiting for you, Garp’s little brat."
Dragon’s heart skipped.
Roger moved.
One slash.
No wind-up.
No hesitation.
Just violence.
From hip to sky.
The blade, surrounded by black-red lightning, screamed upward.
SHING!!!
Dragon saw nothing.
Only light. Pain. And the chill of death.
He raised his arm. Armament Haki flooded his hand.
CLAAANG!
The sword met skin. Steel. Will.
It wasn’t enough.
“Shit!! I can’t—!!”
Blood exploded from his chest.
“Divine Departure!!”
KRAKOOOOOM!!
Dragon shot backward like a missile, smashing through the sky, leaving sonic booms behind.
The Marine warship responded instantly.
Metal rose from the deck—Darren’s magnetic field kicking in.
Steel plates assembled in layers.
Dragon crashed through them all.
BOOM!!
The deck cracked. Wood splinters flew.
He lay embedded in the hull, groaning.
Darren walked over.
Smiling.
“Called it. You owe me 100,000 Berries.”
Dragon wheezed. “Put it on my tab.”
He winced, hand pressing to the bleeding wound on his chest.
"Guess it still takes the old man, huh."
Darren didn’t argue. His gaze turned.
Toward the Oro Jackson.
Toward the sail...
Which suddenly split in two.
Gasps rang out from the pirate crew.
The sail tore down the middle. Fell to the deck.
And hovering in the air...
A dagger. Gleaming.
Its blade shone cold.
It bobbed slightly, as if nodding.
As if mocking.
Like a knight, bowing with elegance.
The crew paled.
Darren grinned, cruel and cold.
Blue sparks danced around his raised finger.
"Now... let’s see you run."
---
To be continued...
Notes:
The first storm has passed.
But the real war has only just begun.
Add this story to your Bookmarks and stay for the battles yet to come!
Chapter 112: Chapter 14: Even Crueler
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The wind held its breath.
No one spoke.
A single line—razor-straight and deathly quiet—ran through the heart of the Oro Jackson’s golden jolly roger. The sail drooped in two halves, torn clean down the middle, its ragged edges fluttering like the wings of a broken angel.
Silence fell across the deck.
“The sail… it’s been cut.”
“When did that happen?”
“This can’t be real…”
The Roger Pirates stared.
A creeping, bone-deep coldness gripped them—not from the rain, not from the sea, but from the dawning realization that they had lost the one thing keeping them free.
Unlike Marine ships, the Oro Jackson had no engine, no steel heart beating below its deck. It was a proud creature of the wind, built to glide. The moment its sails were severed, its soul had been silenced.
They were no longer moving.
They were prey.
A glint of steel hovered in the air.
A dagger. Suspended above the deck as if held by some invisible hand. No blood. No wounds. But its message was clear:
You are no longer in control.
“Wait—my dagger?!”
Buggy’s shriek tore through the silence.
His finger pointed, trembling. “Why the hell is my dagger up there?!”
The crew blinked.
In the chaos of the storm, no one had noticed the weapon vanish. It had been just another blade, just another tool.
Now, it was a symbol. Of mockery. Of manipulation. Of violation.
“How is it moving on its own?”
“Was someone on board?”
“No. Observation Haki is clear. There’s no one here but us.”
Rayleigh’s brow furrowed.
From behind, the rhythmic thunder of cannonfire still rolled across the sea, and Garp’s ship was approaching fast—its hull cutting through the waves like a knife.
Then the dagger moved.
No wind touched it. No hand guided it.
It shivered.
And then—
FWOOOSH!
A silver bolt tore through the air, screaming as it accelerated, faster than thought.
Its target was not a warrior.
Not a veteran.
But a boy.
A red-haired child with a straw hat.
Shanks.
“SHANKS!!”
CLAAAANG!!
A sword intercepted the blade mid-flight, metal crashing against metal in a howl of fury.
Shanks stood motionless. Pale. Unblinking. His legs buckled.
Before him, Rayleigh’s blade held the dagger at bay.
The First Mate didn’t speak. He simply lowered his sword, eyes unreadable.
“Take Buggy. Fall back. Don’t move unless I tell you.”
His voice was steel.
Shanks nodded slowly, throat dry.
The dagger reversed course—like a bird returning to its master.
Across the sea, on the deck of a Marine warship, a hand caught it.
Darren.
He admired the hilt—red gemstone set in the center, the edge still humming with unnatural force.
He looked up.
And their eyes met.
Shanks froze.
He felt it again—the same drowning pressure from earlier. The same coldness that wrapped around his chest and whispered: he could have killed you. He still can.
The man standing across the sea didn’t see a boy.
He saw a threat waiting to grow.
Darren smiled.
"Not bad," he said, tossing the blade once in his palm. "Didn’t think I’d get lucky. But it was worth a try."
Rayleigh stepped forward, eyes like drawn blades.
"So. It was you."
Behind him, Roger’s aura rose like a storm.
Black and red lightning licked his blade. His gaze locked onto Darren like a hawk sizing up prey.
Darren chuckled.
"What? That little redhead’s future is too bright. Someone had to dim it."
The pressure shifted.
It was like being caught between two tidal waves. Like standing on a thread over a volcano. Roger and Rayleigh together were no longer men. They were forces of nature. War made flesh.
Even Darren’s magnetic field—his sense of every living thing—wavered under the sheer density of their presence.
Rayleigh’s voice was low, but it cracked the air like lightning.
"The man who defeated Byrnndi World. The rising star of the Marines. The so-called 'King of the North Blue'..."
He pointed his sword at Darren.
"And yet, all that glory... and you strike at children?"
The crew seethed.
Their fury was not a shout. It was a presence. Thick. Heavy. Unforgiving.
Darren shrugged.
"Temper? I’ve got plenty of that."
He grinned, feral.
"Just not for pirates."
His tone sharpened. Bit deep.
"And you want to talk morality? Roger slaughtered a nation’s soldiers because someone mocked his crewmate. Did he stop to think about the children those men left behind?"
The reaction was immediate.
“LIES!!”
“Roger would NEVER do that!”
“You Marine bastard!!”
Darren met their rage with a smirk.
Dragon stepped forward. Gion and Tokikake flanked him.
Swords were drawn.
The wind tensed.
Darren raised his hands, mock-innocent.
“Alright. Maybe you’re right.”
He snapped his fingers.
And the sky turned metallic.
Bullets. Cannonballs. Iron shards.
All rose from the deck of the Marine ship, suspended in a magnetic field that crackled with blue arcs.
They hovered like a second storm.
"Maybe you didn’t touch the children."
He sneered.
"But you killed their fathers."
His voice dropped to a whisper that still carried across the waves.
"And that’s even crueler."
---
To be continued...
Notes:
“They say heroes don’t hurt children. But what do you call it when you kill their world instead?”
Chapter 113: Chapter 15: Grappling Hooks Engaged
Summary:
“You carry blades and call it freedom.
But when the blood starts dripping…
Who takes responsibility for the orphans?”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“To be perfectly honest... killing the children who lost their fathers might’ve been the kinder option.”
The Commodore’s mocking voice sliced through the bitter sea wind, every word like a dagger, sharp and unflinching, stabbing deep into the hearts of those who heard.
The expressions on the faces of the Roger Pirates shifted, ever so slightly.
They hadn’t set sail out of greed or bloodlust, not like the others. They followed Captain Roger out of loyalty, admiration — drawn in by the force of his spirit and the vastness of his heart. They willingly threw themselves into the storms of the sea, chasing after something far more than plunder.
And in truth, they rarely even raided treasure.
But on this path of vengeance and freedom —
in the heat of the clash, the thrill of the blade, the chaos of bloodshed —
how many of them had stopped to think about the consequences left in their wake?
“So what are you trying to say, Marine boy?”
Rayleigh’s voice cut in, cold and sharp, the change in his crewmates’ expressions not escaping his eye.
Darren simply raised both hands, palms up, with a casual shrug.
“I’m saying this: once you take up arms and fly the Jolly Roger, don’t talk to me about mercy.”
“That red-haired brat who follows you around — don’t think his hands are clean. He’s soaked in blood. And to me...”
He grinned, a wolfish flash of teeth, then waved dismissively.
“He’s no innocent kid.”
And with the final word, it happened.
A storm of suspended bullets and cannonballs — previously held in tense stillness — screamed through the sky with devastating speed, arcing toward the stranded Oro Jackson, its sails ruined, unable to flee.
“You little bastard!!”
Roger roared, his voice booming like thunder as he slashed forward.
A spiraling wave of sword energy erupted like a raging cyclone, engulfing the incoming salvo mid-air.
BOOM!
A series of deafening explosions lit up the storm-dark sky, columns of fire and black smoke twisting upward into the heavens.
A scorching blast wave surged outward, rocking both pirate ship and warship alike.
Then—
the smoke billowed.
A shadow burst forth.
Through the shroud of ash and fire, Roger charged out like a force of nature, his captain’s coat flaring crimson behind him, his eyes burning blood-red.
RRRIP!
A streak of lightning flashed through the thunderclouds, stark and white, illuminating the fury carved into Roger’s face.
He soared high, blade in hand, hurtling straight toward Darren on the bow of the Marine ship.
A crushing aura erupted from his body — like a mountain crashing down or the ocean bottom dropping out — and fell upon the Marines like a tidal wave.
A pressure unlike anything before surged downward. Dozens of Marines went pale, their breathing caught in their throats, limbs heavy as if the air itself had turned to stone.
Roger’s presence wasn’t just powerful — it was monstrous. Like facing death itself. Just standing before it sapped the will to move.
“He’s like a demon…!”
Tokikake gritted his teeth, his chest tight with pain.
Beside him, Gion braced herself with both hands on her blade, face ghost-white.
And Darren — the main target of Roger’s Conqueror’s Haki — narrowed his eyes sharply.
The force slammed into him like a sledgehammer, choking the air from his lungs and rattling his ribs. Instinctively, he tried to unleash his own Haki in defense…
But it wouldn’t rise.
It was being crushed. Suffocated.
The darkness closed in, suffocating and dense.
And yet, Darren grinned.
“I’m not your opponent.”
Roger froze mid-air.
“I AM!!”
A thunderous voice exploded above him.
From the smoke and wind emerged a flash of white — a massive figure wearing a dog-headed Marine cap descended like a phantom, fist cocked back and crashing down like a falling star.
“Seabed Drop!!”
WHAM!
Roger slammed into the deck of the Oro Jackson like a cannonball from the heavens.
The sheer impact split the planks open, shaking the entire ship and sending waves crashing in every direction as half the vessel dipped beneath the waterline from the force.
“Dammit... Garp, you always get in the way!”
Roger staggered from the wrecked deck, blade in hand, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. He looked up toward the Marine vice admiral now standing confidently on the prow of the warship, arms crossed.
“Bwahahaha! Roger, I can’t let you kill the kid now, can I?”
Garp looked down at Roger’s bruised, swelling jaw — and laughed. Laughed like all the exhaustion and irritation of the last three days had just been blown away with one punch.
That felt good. Damn good.
He turned to Darren, clapped him hard on the shoulder, and burst out laughing again.
“You’re Darren, right? Hah! Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.”
“Your methods are dirty, your heart even dirtier — but I like that!”
Garp had seen right through Darren’s sabotage of the pirate ship’s sails. And the way he goaded Roger into an opening? That alone was worth praise.
And now that the Oro Jackson had lost its sails, escape was no longer an option.
The thought made Garp’s eyes glint with approval.
This kid… not bad at all.
Maybe once he graduates from the academy, I’ll snatch him up as my adjutant...
The idea lodged itself in Garp’s brain like an anchor.
“What about me, old man? I nearly sank their ship! I blocked Roger’s sword! Doesn’t that count?!”
Nearby, Dragon puffed up his chest, eyes gleaming as he looked to his father with childlike hope — like a student waiting for a gold star.
“You?”
Garp raised an eyebrow, dug a finger into his nose.
“Eh, you did alright. Just a bit too hot-headed.”
He tapped his temple.
“In battle, you’ve gotta use this thing. I’ve told you a thousand times — you should take a page from Darren’s book.”
Everyone: ……
Dragon froze on the spot.
Gion and Tokikake swore they heard the sound of his heart shattering.
Garp paid no mind. He turned back toward Roger’s crew, cracking his knuckles one by one like snapping beans, a wide grin stretching across his face.
“Well then… how about we settle this the old-fashioned way?”
BOOM!
His dog-headed warship rammed hard into the side of the Oro Jackson from behind.
The Roger Pirates’ expressions all changed.
Dozens of iron-hooked ropes soared through the storm, latching onto the railings of the pirate ship with precise, practiced motion.
“Grappling hooks! Engage!!”
A Marine officer with a brown cap unsheathed his saber and bellowed the order.
SHING SHING SHING!
Hundreds of blades flashed in the stormlight — cold, gleaming, and merciless.
The roar of guns followed.
Elite Marines, swift and ruthless, swarmed the ropes, scaling toward the Oro Jackson under cover fire from their comrades.
Boarding battle… was about to begin.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
The battle for the decks has begun!
If you're feeling the adrenaline too, smash that comment button or toss a kudo — let’s charge into the storm together!
Chapter 114: Chapter 16: The Clash of Titans
Summary:
"In the clash of legends, the sky shatters, and the sea holds its breath."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Kill them!!"
"For justice!!"
"Take down the Roger Pirates!!"
The roars tore through the rain, thick with righteous fury. The Marines surged forward without hesitation, grappling hooks clamped tight, scaling the sides of the Oro Jackson with fearless speed.
Some officers, masters of the Moonwalk technique, kicked against the very air itself, vaulting ahead to cover their comrades, leading the charge with unwavering resolve.
These weren’t ordinary soldiers. Every Marine under Garp's command was an elite of the Headquarters, warriors fierce enough to survive even in the ruthless waters of the New World.
They knew better than anyone: in a typical battle, the best way for the Marines to minimize casualties was to rely on superior firepower and sink the enemy from a distance.
But the Roger Pirates... were anything but typical.
Against such a crew, cannon fire was almost useless.
If they wanted victory — real victory — they would have to board.
They would have to fight, blade against blade, flesh against flesh.
There was no other way.
And worse still — to close the distance and give chase, they had already thrown their heavy artillery into the sea.
“Intercept them!! Stop them from boarding!”
Rayleigh’s face darkened. He barked the order and moved to act — but the shriek of incoming death split the air behind him.
A crimson flash caught the corner of his eye. He spun, blade slicing out in a brilliant arc.
Silver moonlight blazed from his sword.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Several emerald wind blades were deflected cleanly, shearing away into the distant sea, leaving razor-thin cuts across the waves.
"Dark King Silvers Rayleigh, keep your eyes on me!!"
A roar from above.
A gloved claw, coiled in screaming wind, plunged down toward Rayleigh's face — sharp enough to tear the very air into three ragged scars.
BOOM!!
The blast of compressed wind sent a shockwave rippling across the deck, forcing nearby Roger Pirates to stumble back, shielding themselves from the fury.
From within the swirling gale, a figure emerged — a young man clad in the uniform of a Marine, his face momentarily flashing with surprise.
Dragon.
But his claw — his attack — had been stopped dead.
A single finger, coated in gleaming black Armament Haki, pressed immovably against the center of his strike.
"Not bad, Marine boy," Rayleigh said, calm as ever. "Garp must be proud to have a son like you."
"Proud, my ass!"
Dragon cursed, twisting away just before Rayleigh’s sword slashed down in retaliation.
He vanished into the wind, his body dissolving into a raging cyclone. Fast, fluid, unpredictable — he harried Rayleigh from every angle, a storm with no center, no form.
In a pure contest of strength, he couldn’t win.
Not yet.
Not against the Dark King, Roger’s right hand, one of the greatest pirates to ever sail these seas.
But that didn’t matter.
All he needed to do was buy time.
Delay Rayleigh long enough for the Marines to establish their foothold on the ship.
Rayleigh’s frown deepened. His blade swept out again and again, parrying Dragon’s endless assault, but even he could see the boy’s intent.
Clever little brat.
Using his head in a fight.
Not very much like Garp at all.
“Gaban!” Rayleigh barked. "Get it ready!"
"Already on it!" came a raspy voice from beyond the maelstrom.
In less than ten seconds, dozens of Marines had stormed aboard the Oro Jackson, clashing with Roger’s crew in a chaotic whirlwind of battle.
The clash of steel, the cries of war — they filled the rain-soaked sky.
"BWAHAHAHA!! With me, boys!!"
Atop the Marine battleship, Garp bellowed with laughter.
His spirit blazed like a towering mountain, unstoppable and growing stronger by the second.
His gaze locked onto Roger across the gap — a collision of wills, visible even through the storm.
At that moment, there was no one else.
Only Garp.
Only Roger.
"Vice Admiral Garp, sinking the Oro Jackson should be our priority," Darren muttered from behind, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. "If we cripple their ship, we gain full control."
From his vantage point, he saw it clearly — the Marine battleship and the pirate ship were lashed together now.
The battle was only growing bloodier.
"Leave that to you," Garp said, waving him off with a grin. "This ship’s under your command now."
"I've waited long enough for this bastard.
This time — I fight him for real!!"
With a booming laugh, Garp stomped down on the ship’s bow, cracking the wood beneath his boots.
And then — he was airborne, a human cannonball hurtling straight toward Roger.
Darren’s forehead twitched violently.
Stupid reckless old man...
He couldn’t help but curse internally.
But then — the world changed.
The sea itself seemed to shudder.
"Roger!!"
"Garp!!"
Two titanic figures leapt from their ships — one shrouded in crimson, the other in gleaming white.
BOOM!!
Lightning ripped the heavens apart.
Torrents of rain turned into curtains of blinding light.
The black skies flashed into a temporary day.
Darren’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Two monstrous auras erupted — clashing, colliding, roaring.
The ocean churned, the world darkened — and everywhere, the Marines and pirates alike slowed.
Breathless.
Frozen.
They all lifted their heads instinctively — eyes wide in awe.
Above them, two figures shattered the storm — kings among men, their Conqueror’s Haki unleashed in full fury.
Black-red lightning streaked across Roger’s blade.
Dark violet lightning wreathed Garp’s massive fist.
The crimson captain’s coat and the white Justice cloak twisted and flared against the storm, both refusing to bow.
"Roger!!"
"Garp!!"
Their roars collided like thunderclaps. Their killing intent reached its peak.
And then — they struck.
"GALAXY IMPACT!!"
"DIVINE DEPARTURE!!"
BOOOOM!!!
Fist met blade.
Haki exploded between them in a churning sphere of raw power, expanding and contracting, tearing the sky asunder.
Black lightning lashed outward, twisting around them like a living cage.
"ROGER!!" Garp howled with laughter.
"GARP!!" Roger’s hair whipped around his face.
The heavens shattered.
Clouds were torn to ribbons.
The sea rose in walls of water over a hundred meters high.
Both the Marine battleship and the Oro Jackson rocked violently, tiny boats tossed in a merciless storm.
On deck, Gion, Tokikake, and dozens of Marines dropped to one knee, faces twisted in pain, struggling to withstand the tidal wave of Haki.
Some, less fortunate, simply blacked out where they stood.
Gripping the mast tightly, Darren’s face paled slightly — but his eyes never wavered.
He stared up at the clash in the sky, drinking in every detail, burning it into his memory.
Deep within his gaze, something blazed to life — ambition, raw and burning hot.
This —
this was the battle of the strongest in the world!
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Maybe you can already feel it —
the weight of destiny pressing down,
the endless sky of dreams just beyond reach.
One day, Darren will stand among these titans.
He will carve his name into the world itself.
But the road to strength... is cruel.
It will demand everything.
Battle after battle, where death is never far.
Moments standing alone on the edge of life and death, feeling the abyss stare back.
Training until the body screams, until the heart nearly breaks.
And still — he will rise.
Through betrayal, through heartbreak, through blood and tears,
he will keep walking forward.
Because that’s what it takes.
Not talent. Not luck.
But a spirit that refuses to fall.
The author of this story (海贼:海军史上最大败类 by 马里奥吃鸡胸肉) weaves this journey so beautifully, so painfully real,
that you can't help but walk it with him.
So come.
Come sail this sea of dreams and despair with me.
Let’s chase the impossible — together.
Chapter 115: Chapter 17: Magnetic Overload — Railgun
Summary:
“When death comes screaming through the storm, only willpower decides who stands and who falls.”
Chapter Text
The clash of supreme Conqueror’s Haki shattered the world.
An unimaginable suffocating pressure swept over the sea.
The battleship’s hull and deck groaned under the crushing winds, fine cracks spiderwebbing across the wood, sharp creaks splitting the storm.
Before Darren’s eyes, the world shook violently.
Space itself seemed to ripple — distorted, trembling — as if reality were being pulled apart at the seams.
Everything he could see rippled like a disturbed reflection on water.
"This... this is the pinnacle of the seas!!"
A wild grin broke across Darren’s face. His entire body trembled uncontrollably.
His face remained pale — but his eyes burned brighter than ever.
As a thousand thoughts flashed through Darren’s mind, the duel between Garp and Roger reached its climax.
The black-red sphere of energy compressed tighter, tighter, between the Iron Fist and the Captain’s blade.
And then—
BOOM!!
A thunderous explosion tore through the sky.
The ball of black-red lightning detonated, unleashing a shockwave that flooded outward in every direction, shaking the heavens.
A stalemate.
Both figures recoiled, pushed apart.
"Hahahaha!! I knew it! Fighting you is the most fun, Garp!!"
Roger roared with laughter, exhilarated.
"Don't be ridiculous!! I’m here to arrest you!!"
Garp bellowed back, kicking off the air itself and charging once more.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Fist met blade again and again in midair, each clash sending ripples of force bursting outward, rattling the storm.
But then — out of the corner of Roger’s eye — a movement.
"Hm? That Marine brat... what’s he up to?"
He caught a glimpse of Darren leaping from the battleship’s prow, a twisting, stream-lined platform of solidified metal forming under his feet, propelling him upward into the sky.
Roger hesitated for just an instant —
And that moment was enough.
Garp’s fist crashed toward him like a meteor, cutting the air itself apart with its force.
"You’re getting distracted mid-fight!? Are you underestimating me, Roger!!?"
"Damn it!!"
Roger cursed, slashing to block the devastating punch.
CLANG!!
Sparks exploded in a blinding spray. Roger’s face darkened.
Because above him, he saw Darren — floating high, glaring down — a single coin held between two fingers.
Flick.
The coin spun upward.
A chilling sense of danger clutched Roger’s heart.
Deep in his sharp eyes, a crimson glint flickered — instinct warning him of a terrible future glimpsed through Haki.
"STOP THAT MARINE!!"
Roger’s shout rang out across the deck, snapping every Roger Pirate to attention.
They all looked up.
And they saw it.
High above, Darren grinned — savage, merciless — looking down at them like a god passing judgment.
Blue arcs of lightning crackled wildly between his fingers.
Time seemed to slow.
The sky was pitch black.
Lightning danced across the clouds, flickering light across the storm.
The spinning coin caught and reflected the flashes of light, mirrored in the wide-eyed, horrified faces of the pirates.
Hovering there, cold and unmoved, Darren watched them.
Waiting.
Until the coin began to fall.
He smiled thinly.
"Sink into the sea."
He snapped his fingers.
"Magnetic Overload: Railgun!!"
Before anyone could react—
BOOM!!
A searing orange-red beam of pure energy erupted from Darren’s hand.
The night sky turned to fire.
The beam tore through the clouds, carving ripples across the heavens, a howling spear of annihilation streaking straight toward the Oro Jackson.
"What the hell is that?!"
"A laser cannon?!"
"Oi, oi, no way!!"
The heat blasted down onto the Oro Jackson, choking the air from their lungs.
Rayleigh’s face twisted in alarm.
This attack —
If it hit —
Even the legendary Adam Wood hull of the Oro Jackson wouldn’t survive.
It would melt through.
It would sink.
He moved to act—
But a biting wind howled behind him.
CLANG!!
Rayleigh’s blade locked against Dragon’s blackened claw, sparks flying between them.
"You left yourself open," Dragon gasped, grinning despite his exhaustion.
Rayleigh’s heart lurched.
"Tempest Breath!"
BOOM!!
A blast of violent wind engulfed him.
From the shadows of the cabin, Buggy and Shanks watched, terror written across their faces.
They saw the blazing red beam growing larger — and closer — with every breath.
"He’s going to destroy the Oro Jackson...!!" they whispered, horrified.
But a new roar tore through the storm.
"You think we'll let you destroy our ship — our dream — you bastard Marine!!"
A figure burst out from the ship’s lower decks — twin axes gleaming.
Gaban.
The twin axes flashed, weaving a shield of steel and courage against the incoming beam.
BOOM!!!
The skies split apart.
Waves of energy tore across the Oro Jackson, shattering planks, blasting debris into the storm.
Fire swept the sky like enormous wings.
The heat seared skin, boiled the rain.
Buggy and Shanks covered their ears, their heads ringing from the deafening impact.
Through the flickering flames, they saw Darren — black-haired, cloak whipping in the wind — a shadow of terror burning into their minds.
This madman... he doesn't even care if he kills his own allies!
The rain finally quenched the fires.
And there, midair —
Gaban stood, axes crossed, the shredded remains of the spinning coin crushed between them.
The energy dissipated.
The ship — barely — survived.
Relief flooded the pirates’ faces.
"You Marine bastard!!" a new roar thundered.
Roger’s blade blasted Garp back in a wild clash.
He kicked off the shattered deck, launching himself like a cannonball.
Black-red lightning wrapped his sword, his eyes blazing with murderous rage.
He tore across the sky.
Straight at Darren.
"Look out, Darren!!"
"Commodore Darren!!"
"Get back!!"
"Retreat!!"
The Marines’ desperate cries echoed across the storm.
Darren looked up — and saw him.
Roger.
The King of the Seas.
Coming for him.
Every instinct screamed.
Every fiber of his being froze.
A wave of death crashed over his mind.
He would die.
There was no doubt.
If he took that slash head-on...
He would die.
Every muscle in his body trembled.
He would die.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 116: Chapter 18: I'm not backing down
Summary:
"Some rise after breaking. Few stand tall from the start. But the rarest never step back — even before certain death."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
His body shook.
Not just from fear — but from the sheer, crushing pressure of death.
It clung to him like a nightmare, fingers tight around his heart, squeezing until breath itself was a struggle.
The rain beat down, cold as ice, slapping across his face in harsh stings. He barely felt it.
Adrenaline surged like a flood, wringing every ounce of strength from his muscles, tendons, even his very cells.
His limbs screamed. His blood felt thin.
And yet, his mind was razor sharp.
In his pupils —
Roger’s face, fierce and untamed, bearing down like a god of war.
The tip of his sword — cloaked in black-red lightning — expanded with terrifying speed.
He was coming.
And Darren knew.
If I don’t move… I die.
Not metaphorically.
Not eventually.
I die. Right now.
This wasn’t a legend.
This wasn’t a training exercise.
This was Gol D. Roger — the man who brought down Rocks D. Xebec.
The man who would stand atop the world.
Even Dragon — a monster among prodigies — had been nearly cut down by this one strike.
And Darren?
No Armament Haki.
No Logia body.
No time to think.
Just a sword swing that could end him in a heartbeat.
Retreat.
His instincts screamed it.
His body wanted it.
Back away.
Get clear.
Live.
But—
No.
Something inside him snapped.
The tremors stopped.
His pupils shrank into pinpricks, then dilated wide, blood vessels flooding with crimson madness.
From his chest, something darker than fear rose.
Fury.
Will.
A defiance that didn’t care about logic, strength, or odds.
A grin — twisted and unrelenting — broke across his face.
So many near-death fights.
So many days of hellish training.
All those years scraping by in North Blue — clawing for a spot in the officer’s program.
He’d finally made it.
Finally reached the main stage of the world.
And for what?
For this. Exactly this.
To clash with monsters.
With Roger.
With Whitebeard.
With Shiki.
And now — one of them stood before him.
"I’m not backing down!!"
Darren’s roar tore through the sky.
Power exploded from his body — raw, chaotic, defiant.
His Conqueror’s Haki surged outward like a hurricane, smashing against Roger’s aura midair.
Two vortexes collided in the sky — Conqueror’s clashing with Conqueror’s, spiraling like storm-born titans.
For the first time, Darren’s hidden force — long dormant, long smothered — erupted.
CRACK!!
Lightning danced violently. The storm itself recoiled.
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “Conqueror’s Haki…?”
From below, Garp and Dragon both gasped.
"A Marine with the will of kings… rare indeed.”
"But—"
Roger’s lips curled into a grin.
"Your will’s still too weak!!"
He gripped his sword with both hands.
From a distance, it looked like a dragon made of lightning was diving toward earth.
And then— he brought it down.
SHRAAK!!
Darren’s aura shattered like glass.
His Haki collapsed under the weight of Roger’s blade, crumbling into splinters of invisible pressure.
“Darren!!” Tokikake’s voice cracked.
Gion’s fists bled from how tightly she clenched them.
Garp cursed, skywalking upward, desperation on his face.
Dragon’s stomach dropped.
Roger roared —
“This ends now!!”
Death was coming.
Darren felt his heart seize.
He saw nothing — only flashes.
Of power.
Of fists.
Of movement.
Byrnndi World.
The fight with that monstrous pirate — every punch, every dodge — replayed in perfect clarity.
His massive fists.
The way he anchored his foot before exploding forward.
The moment his punch crushed a warship hull like paper.
And suddenly — it clicked.
A bolt of light split through the darkness of Darren’s mind.
That feeling — like standing atop a mountaintop with wind screaming past his ears.
That power.
Everything made sense.
Why hadn’t he realized it earlier?
When Physique hits 60 — the body becomes unyielding, like steel.
When Speed passes 60 — movement explodes like Soru.
And when Strength—
His eyes widened.
Of course.
"Armament Haki… Hardening!"
His voice shook the rain.
Blood surged. Muscles locked.
His fist — his right hand — turned black.
Glossy, metallic.
Impossibly dense.
An invisible armor bloomed across his knuckles.
No time to think.
No time to feel.
Just one choice.
He met Roger’s blade with his fist.
BOOOOOM!!!
The heavens screamed.
Waves blasted outward.
The sea rose in titanic walls.
The wind howled.
Everyone stared — frozen.
CRACK.
His gauntlet shattered.
Then the bones in his hand.
Then his wrist.
Then the flesh of his forearm tore open, muscle ripping, nerves screaming.
Blood mist exploded around him.
And then—
“DIVINE DEPARTURE!!”
Roger’s blade struck him full-on.
From neck to hip, a savage diagonal cleave ripped Darren open.
His ribs showed through.
His blood splashed across Roger’s face.
He crumpled in the air — his body folding like a broken doll.
The Oro Jackson’s crew gasped as one.
He fell.
"Roger, you son of a bitch!!"
Garp’s fist came crashing down like a comet.
Roger moved to block—
But then—
Darren moved.
Mid-fall, coughing blood, teeth gritted, he lifted a hand.
A crooked smile on his shredded face.
"Then take this… as interest."
He reached downward.
Below — someone jumped.
A tall figure.
Strong arms.
A warm chest caught Darren before he hit the deck.
Roger blinked.
And then — a tug.
At his waist.
Too late.
CLANG!!
BOOM!!
Fist and blade collided, sparks bursting like a rain of stars. Shockwaves rippled through the storm.
But Roger —
Roger froze.
A cold, eerie draft kissed his legs.
His face twisted strangely — from fury to confusion to outright panic.
Slowly, fearfully, he looked down.
And nearly blacked out.
His metal-buckled belt — and with it, his black pants — had been yanked straight down.
Left exposed, standing proud atop the deck, was Roger the future Pirate King...
...in nothing but a blazing red pair of underpants.
Silence —
then—
"WAHAHAHAHAHA!!
ROGER!!
YOUR PANTS FELL OFF!!"
Garp howled so loudly it nearly shattered the storm clouds.
Roger’s face turned a shade of red that could've rivaled the crimson of his own underwear.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
What a clash.
What a dance with death.
...But honestly, was this the ending you were expecting?
In the middle of one of the greatest battles in history, the future Pirate King’s pants just — plop — dropped for the whole world to see.
Even Luffy, who has absolutely no concept of shame, might've felt secondhand embarrassment! (≧∇≦)ノ彡Hahaha
Seriously, I couldn't stop laughing when I first read this part.
Tell me — were you laughing? Shocked? Facepalming?
Drop a comment! I want to hear all your reactions to this unforgettable moment!
Chapter 117: Chapter 19: Your Pants Fell Off
Summary:
"Even legends fall, even titans stumble — but only fools lose their pants before all eyes."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Vice Admiral’s triumphant laughter cracked through the storm like a cold iron whip, lashing across Roger’s burning face.
"GARP, YOU BASTARD!!"
Roger's face flushed a deep red, then pale, then green.
Blood vessels bulged at the corners of his crimson eyes as the gazes of both Marines and pirates widened — confused, stunned, and utterly speechless.
He almost spat out a mouthful of blood from sheer humiliation.
And Garp, grinning so wide his eyes nearly vanished, roared again:
"Looks like you really do like the color red, huh, Roger?! Bwahahahaha!!"
Without missing a beat, Garp lunged forward —
His iron fist wrapped in swirling Conqueror’s Haki —
And smashed straight toward Roger’s face.
Roger, still awkwardly yanking his pants up with one hand, scrambled to raise his blade.
BAM!!
The momentum of Garp’s punch, charged with laughter and fury, collided with Roger’s sword.
The shockwave blasted Roger backward like a human cannonball.
BOOM!!
The deck of the Oro Jackson shuddered violently as Roger crashed into it, splintering wood flying like shrapnel.
A giant crater split open beneath him.
And through the smoke, Garp’s voice rang out again — clearer, louder, unstoppable:
"WAHAHAHA!! ROGER, YOUR PANTS FELL OFF!!"
The Marines and pirates alike gawked.
CLANG!!
Sparks erupted once more as blade met fist in the rolling clouds of battle.
"SHUT UP!!!" Roger bellowed, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
His red-rimmed eyes glared murderously at the cackling Vice Admiral.
Even Roger — reckless, wild, thick-skinned Roger —
Felt the burning shame of being pantsed in the middle of a grand battle.
It was a humiliation worse than defeat itself.
"Am I wrong though?!"
Garp barked with gleeful mockery.
"Your pants did fall down!! Wahahaha!!"
In a blink — Garp disappeared.
A streak across the air.
Soru.
The explosive burst speed of the Rokushiki technique.
Not just ten times faster than ordinary officers —
It was like facing a ghost in the storm.
Neither Marine nor pirate could react —
Even their Observation Haki lagged behind.
One instant Garp was laughing —
The next, he was right beside Roger.
"And your underwear is RED!!"
CRACK!!
A fist —
A single merciless punch.
A bloody tooth flew from Roger’s mouth, spinning through the air.
His lips instantly swelled into a bruised purple welt.
Roger, caught completely off guard, was smashed back into the ship’s cabin.
Rayleigh’s pupils shrank sharply.
Garp had rattled Roger’s mental state —
Threw him off balance.
Even Roger’s legendary Observation Haki faltered.
"GABAN!!"
Rayleigh barked.
"Ready!!"
A low, gravelly voice replied.
Before the echo faded, Rayleigh’s silhouette flashed forward — gliding low over the deck, straight toward Garp.
"Your opponent is me!"
he growled.
Behind him, a blood-soaked Dragon emerged, seizing a jagged gust of wind in his hands and hurling it forward.
SHHHRIP!!
A cross-shaped slash of wind tore through the tempest.
From the whirling winds, a shadow burst forth —
Broad, hulking, with twin axes flashing.
Gaban.
Sunglasses glinting, muscles coiled like steel cables, Gaban charged Dragon with a roar.
Those twin battle axes carried a deadly sharpness that rivaled even Rayleigh’s blade.
Dragon's pupils tightened.
"Shit!"
He had no choice but to retreat, dissipating into the storm as living wind.
Already gravely wounded from Roger’s earlier blow, drained from his duel with Rayleigh —
He couldn’t face Gaban head-on now.
Meanwhile—
"You can’t run, Roger!!
Today, I’m locking you up!!"
Garp thundered, smashing aside incoming pirates like a bulldozer, charging straight toward the ship’s interior.
Rayleigh flashed in beside him —
His silver blade sweeping low for Garp’s waist.
CLANG!!
Garp’s blackened hand snatched the blade mid-swing, sparks flying in a furious shower.
"Out of my way, Rayleigh!!"
Sweat dripped from Rayleigh’s brow.
"This battle ends here, Garp," he said coldly.
"LIKE HELL IT DOES!!"
Garp roared back.
But before he could shove forward —
BOOM!!
A figure erupted from the smashed cabin.
"GARP!!"
Roger.
His hair whipped wildly around him, his eyes burned blood-red.
Lightning — black and red — snarled around his greatsword, crackling with raw fury.
In an instant, he moved.
A black-red flash ripped across the deck.
SHRAK!!
With the speed of a storm god, Roger slashed downward.
Garp raised his arms, Haki flaring—
BANG!!
The impact blasted Garp backward.
Blood flew from his lips.
Twin forces — Rayleigh and Roger — had combined.
Garp was hurled from the deck like a ragdoll, plunging into the churning sea.
"RETREAT!!"
Rayleigh shouted immediately.
He grabbed Roger by the arm, leaning close.
"Roger! We have to go! If we keep fighting, Marine reinforcements will swarm us!!"
"RETREAT?!" Roger roared, struggling. "I haven’t beat that bastard enough yet!!"
Rayleigh ignored him and barked again:
"Launch it!! Now!!"
From the stern of the Oro Jackson, Spencer’s voice answered:
"Ready!!"
He flashed across the deck, reaching the ship’s hidden control panel.
With a heavy mechanical clank, the wooden panels peeled away—
and a massive cannon unfolded from the rear of the ship.
Meanwhile—
Garp’s head bobbed above the raging sea.
He saw the cannon —
And instantly recognized it.
His eyes widened.
He spluttered seawater —
Then broke into another roaring laugh:
"WAHAHA!! Roger, your pants fell off!!"
Roger’s nose steamed like a raging bull.
"BASTARD!! Rayleigh, LET ME GO!! I’LL KILL HIM!!"
Rayleigh, red-faced, pinned Roger down with both arms.
"FIRE IT!!"
WHOOM!!!
A searing white blast erupted from the rear cannon.
An air burst —
Firing not bullets, but pure compressed air.
It tore a hundred-meter gouge across the ocean.
And with that explosive force —
the Oro Jackson leapt skyward.
The pirate ship soared over the shattered blockade of Marine ships —
and into the open, wild sea.
Freedom.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author’s Note:
Thank you all for your support — it means everything!
A quick note about the storytelling:
In order to stay as true to the spirit of the original manga as possible, some scenes and descriptions intentionally lean into that "anime-style absurdity."
For example —
Characters' eyes almost popping out of their heads, or steam shooting from their noses —
These kinds of exaggerated reactions aren't typically found in traditional novels, but they’re common in manga.
They add vivid imagery and humor, and I believe they make the scenes much more alive.
The “pants falling off” moment here is no exception.
In the original work, these kinds of wild, unexpected comedic twists happen often —
Even in the middle of the most serious battles, especially when it involves “blockheads” like Garp and Roger!
That’s all for now.
Wishing you all the best — and hope you enjoyed the chaos!
Chapter 118: Chapter 20: Laughing Out Loud
Summary:
"Amid crashing waves and a raging storm, a tattered figure dares to smile against the darkness."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Damn it! He didn’t fall for it!!"
Garp ground his teeth in fury, letting out a heavy snort.
Since the fall of the Rocks era, he had been relentlessly chasing Roger across the seas —
from the East Blue, to the Grand Line, and then into the New World.
More than once, he had cornered Roger on land, bringing him close to defeat.
But every time, the meticulous plans crafted by Sengoku and Tsuru were shattered by Rayleigh's intervention.
Unlike Roger, who would get swept away in the heat of battle, Rayleigh always remained calm, rational —
analyzing the battlefield and pulling Roger back from reckless decisions at the critical moment.
In truth, Garp had to admit — the "Dark King" Rayleigh, as Roger’s right-hand man, was even more difficult to deal with than Roger himself.
Shaking his head, Garp sighed heavily.
He reached out and grabbed the lifeline thrown from the deck, pulling himself from the churning sea.
All around him, the Marines who had jumped ship before the Oro Jackson soared skyward were climbing into the rescue boats.
"Where’s Darren?! What’s his condition?!"
Before even stepping onto the deck, Garp shouted the question, his pace quickening instinctively.
This time, they had almost brought down the entire Roger Pirates —
Darren had played a crucial role.
With talent, potential, and achievements like that, Garp couldn’t afford anything happening to him.
But as Garp finally set foot on the deck, he froze.
His fists clenched tight, teeth grinding together.
The deck had fallen into an eerie silence.
The sea roared without end, a cold, misty rain falling from the blackened sky.
Raindrops battered the sails, the shattered wreckage, and the pale, grief-stricken faces of the Marines —
faces so motionless, they seemed more like statues than living men.
On the blood-soaked deck ahead, a figure lay sprawled — a broken, blood-drenched wreck.
It was Commodore Darren.
His uniform was shredded beyond recognition.
A gruesome wound stretched from the left side of his neck to his right abdomen, nearly slicing him clean in two.
Through the torn flesh, one could glimpse glistening bone and the faint tremble of organs beneath shattered ribs.
His right arm was mutilated, whole sections of flesh missing, blood pouring freely.
Darren’s face was deathly pale, his eyes tightly shut.
His breathing was almost nonexistent — like a dying flame flickering in the wind.
Beside him, Tokikake and Gion knelt, their eyes red and heavy with emotion.
The wind stirred again, and Dragon stumbled forward through the mist, blood at the corner of his mouth —
his condition clearly no better.
"Doctor! What’s his status?!"
Dragon's voice was low, sharp, seething with barely contained rage.
The ship's doctor, already at Darren’s side, was drenched in cold sweat as he worked frantically to stem the bleeding.
He pressed down hard on a severed artery, his voice thick with urgency:
"Commodore Darren’s wounds have reached his vital organs...
His aorta’s ruptured — massive blood loss. Compared to that, the damage to his arm is negligible."
"If we can't stop the bleeding soon... he won’t make it."
The doctor’s words trailed off.
But the heavy sorrow in his voice spoke louder than anything.
"You have to save him!!" Garp roared, grabbing the doctor by the collar, his bloodshot eyes burning with rage.
"Or I'll smash you with my Iron Fist!!"
"Vice Admiral Garp!!"
"Old man!!"
Gion and Dragon quickly restrained him.
Garp gritted his teeth, then bowed slightly, his voice rough yet sincere:
"Doctor... please, whatever it takes — save him."
The doctor hesitated, moved by Dragon’s earnestness, then frowned deeply.
"Right now... there’s no real method to save him.
Injuries like these — they're beyond what normal human endurance can withstand."
"We can try a blood transfusion. Maybe it'll buy enough time to suture the wounds.
Does anyone here have Type S blood?"
The Marines looked around helplessly at each other.
Type S was rare — especially out here.
"I’ll do it."
A clear voice rang out.
Everyone turned — it was Gion.
"I have Type S blood. Doctor, please."
She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a pale, slender arm.
Dark red blood flowed steadily from her veins, through a plastic tube, and into Darren’s battered body.
The rain fell harder.
On the shattered deck, Darren lay motionless, while Gion sat quietly beside him, gazing up at the rain-drenched sky.
"...It’s no use... I’m sorry."
The doctor stopped his stitching, shaking his head grimly.
His gloves were soaked in blood.
Hearing this, Garp, Dragon, and the others lowered their heads in silence, fists clenched until their knuckles turned white.
"Commodore Darren’s injuries are simply too severe.
Even if we sew him up... I doubt he’ll survive— Wait—!"
The doctor’s eyes suddenly widened in disbelief.
"The bleeding... it's actually stopping?!"
"A mere mortal wound..."
A hoarse, broken voice, tinged with laughter, rose faintly through the storm.
The stunned Marines jerked their heads up.
They watched — disbelieving — as Darren slowly, painfully, opened his heavy eyelids.
He smiled — a faint, battered grin.
Gion stared in disbelief at the man lying beside her.
"Judging by that stunned look, Lieutenant Commander Gion..." Darren rasped weakly, still somehow managing to tease,
"I guess you were really hoping I’d just die, huh?"
"But now..." he smirked faintly,
"we share blood. We’re even closer now."
He blinked lazily.
"Also... when you were saving me just now..."
A playful glint appeared in his eyes.
"...very soft."
For a heartbeat, a faint blush colored Gion’s normally cold face.
She snorted, turning her head away with a huff of embarrassment:
"Only a scumbag like you could survive this."
Dragon pressed his forehead with a sigh.
"Darren... your body—"
Darren weakly shook his head, signaling he was fine.
Turning his battered body, he gazed toward the distant sea —
the direction where the Roger Pirates had disappeared.
"What a pity, Vice Admiral Garp..." he murmured.
Garp stood silent for a long time before finally replying:
"Darren... thanks to you...
for the first time in all these years, I managed to corner that bastard Roger at sea."
"Just never imagined his ship had that kind of propulsion hidden away..."
"It’s fine," Darren chuckled faintly.
"Next time... he won’t escape."
The rain poured down like a waterfall.
Pain and exhaustion surged over him like a collapsing mountain.
But Darren simply lay there, quietly, letting the rain wash over him.
Slowly — tremblingly — he raised his bloodied hand.
The storm roared.
The ocean raged.
The rain battered the ship in endless sheets.
A flash of lightning tore through the darkness, illuminating the world for a brief, searing moment.
Garp, Dragon, Tokikake, Gion — every Marine froze in shock.
Because right there — amid the blood, the ruin, the storm —
Darren was grinning.
A wild, fearless, arrogant grin spread across his face.
"I’m still alive," he whispered.
His mangled hand clenched into a fist.
Then —
"Hahahahahaha!! After fighting Gol D. Roger... I’m still alive!!!"
The ship rocked and shuddered under the crashing waves.
Rain poured down in wild torrents.
In the flickering lightning, the broken Marine flags soared and whipped through the storm.
And amid that broken world —
The bloodied Commodore laughed.
He laughed freely, arrogantly —
loud enough to shake the heavens.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Blood Type System in One Piece:
In the One Piece world, blood types are categorized under the FSX system, which applies to both humans and fish-men. There are four main blood types:
F-type
S-type
X-type
XF-type
Additionally, blood can also have an RH- classification (e.g., S (RH-)), though this has only been mentioned for S-type blood so far.
S-type blood, especially S (RH-), is extremely rare.
Blood transfusions require the donor and recipient to have the exact same blood type.
Chapter 119: Chapter 21: Plastic, Please
Summary:
"In the silence between battles, men forge new scars—and sometimes, new dreams."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Although I’m not sure why... after simple stitching and bandaging, Commodore Darren’s condition is already beginning to stabilize."
Inside the warship’s cabin, the ship’s doctor gave his report to Garp, his expression a mix of uncertainty and wonder.
As he spoke, he couldn't help but steal glances at the man lying unconscious on the bed — the Marine commodore, attached to an IV drip.
"Commodore Darren’s physical resilience... I've never seen anything like it in all my years of practice.
His organ vitality, muscle toughness, and recovery rate are all far beyond the standards of a normal human being."
"But Vice Admiral Garp, I still recommend that once we return to headquarters, he undergo a full examination at the Marine Medical Division...
After all, injuries of this magnitude are usually fatal."
As the doctor finished speaking, both he and Garp involuntarily twitched the corners of their mouths.
“Fatal injuries,” huh...
"Hm. Thanks for everything, Doctor."
Garp nodded, then hesitated for a moment, scratching his head awkwardly before adding:
"Ah, well... you know, earlier I was just a little too anxious. I wasn’t actually going to punch you."
The doctor laughed and waved it off, turning to leave the cabin.
Garp exhaled heavily and crossed his arms, silently watching the man lying on the bed.
"The route’s been set, old man. It'll take about three days to return to Marineford."
Dragon pushed open the cabin door and walked in.
He was no longer wearing his uniform, just a simple "Justice" cloak draped over his shoulders.
The deep gash across his chest, left by Roger’s blade, was tightly bandaged, faint bloodstains seeping through.
Garp merely grunted in reply, his gaze still fixed calmly on Darren.
"What’s wrong, old man?"
Dragon came over to stand beside him, frowning slightly.
"Didn’t the doctor say Darren’s condition has stabilized?"
"I’ve just been thinking about something," Garp said quietly, eyes never leaving Darren.
"What is it?"
"Why isn't my own son as outstanding as that kid Darren?"
"..."
Dragon’s mouth twitched.
He barely resisted the urge to snap back, forcing a strained smile instead.
"Darren really is exceptional," he said, voice low, a rare flicker of emotion passing through his eyes.
"If it had been me, before I learned how to use Haki...
I'm not sure I’d have had the guts to stand against Roger’s strike head-on."
Dragon stared at Darren for a long moment.
"Truly remarkable."
"The North Blue really does breed monsters, huh?" Garp chuckled.
"That brat Sakazuki’s not bad either.
The chaos of the North Blue churns out ruthless men like few other places.
Otherwise, why do you think Sengoku assigned Tokikake and Gion there?"
"At least after this mission, they’ve lost much of their naïveté."
"But thank goodness... Darren didn’t back down."
Conqueror’s Haki...
Garp’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Seeing the old man scrutinize a younger Marine with such serious attention, Dragon couldn't help but mutter:
"Hey... I’m pretty good too, you know, old man."
He suddenly brightened, as if remembering something, and struck a proud stance.
Bringing together his index and middle fingers, while curling his ring and little fingers, he formed a claw-like hand shape.
"This is my latest combat technique!
Like a dragon’s talon — powerful enough to tear through anything with piercing force!"
A dark coating of Armament Haki wrapped around his hand, making the "dragon claw" look like an indestructible weapon.
With a sharp swipe, the air itself cracked with a piercing boom.
Pa-la!
The air shuddered.
Garp narrowed his eyes, secretly impressed — though his face remained flat as he said:
"Hm. Not bad. A bit flashy, though."
"Listen, brat — as long as your fists are strong enough,
there’s nothing in this world that can block your path."
As he spoke, he raised one heavy fist in demonstration.
Dragon flushed bright red and quickly argued:
"This move was inspired by Darren, you know!"
Countless warriors wielded their fists across the seas—
but only one man carved the legend of "Garp the Fist" into history.
"Oh?" Garp arched an eyebrow.
Then he laughed heartily, as if suddenly realizing something.
"No wonder! If it was Darren’s inspiration, of course it’s not ordinary.
If you combine it with a secondary burst of Armament Haki, you could unleash devastating damage instantly."
Dragon froze.
What?
Didn’t you just call it flashy a second ago!?
Clutching his chest in silent grievance, he turned and stomped out of the cabin without another word.
Garp shrugged, watching Dragon’s sulking figure disappear.
He leaned back into his chair, crossed one leg comfortably over the other, and yawned lazily.
"Dragon Claw Fist... Not bad at all.
You really are my son."
A small, proud smile crept onto Garp’s lips.
---
Meanwhile—
Somewhere in the Grand Line.
The sea lay calm and still.
Seabirds glided across the quiet sky.
"Damn that Garp!! Damn that brat Darren!!"
On the swaying Oro Jackson, Roger threw a tantrum like a frustrated child, collapsing onto the deck with a loud thud.
Grabbing a jug of strong liquor, he guzzled it down furiously.
Leaning against the mast nearby, Rayleigh massaged his temple, watching the scene unfold with helplessness.
"How bad is the damage?"
He turned toward Isaac, the ship’s resident scientist, a man with a distinctive hooked nose.
Isaac shook his head solemnly.
"Over thirty percent of the ship’s structure is damaged.
It’s still seaworthy, but we should dock somewhere soon for repairs.
Also... we’ve completely burned through the air cannon’s fuel."
Hearing the report, Rayleigh’s face grew even graver.
The King of the North Blue...
This was the worst state the Roger Pirates had found themselves in since the Battle of God Valley.
And the main reason?
One man — a Marine named Rogers Darren.
"Such ruthless, shameless tactics...
It’s hard to believe he’s even a Marine," Gaban grumbled from where he was cleaning his twin axes.
He, of all people, had the right to comment —
having personally blocked Darren’s electromagnetic cannon shot.
And that shot hadn’t been aimed at the Roger Pirates themselves —
it had been meant to cripple the Oro Jackson.
Leaving aside the underhandedness, the Marine’s judgment and action were so swift, so precise, it was almost terrifying.
"I looked into him," Rayleigh said, chuckling bitterly.
"In the North Blue, that guy’s infamous.
A disgrace, a scoundrel, a name that makes people spit when they hear it."
"Yet when an iron fist is paired with a sharp mind...
there’s almost no flaw to exploit."
Rayleigh and Gaban exchanged a glance —
both seeing the same wariness mirrored in the other’s eyes.
"Hey, hey, Rayleigh, Gaban — when are we getting to land, huh?!"
Roger stumbled over, drunk and reeking of alcohol, wrapping an arm around each of their necks, laughing boisterously.
Rayleigh and Gaban simultaneously pinched their brows in exasperation.
"What now?"
Rayleigh sighed.
Roger belched, then — as if recalling something vitally important — gritted his teeth and declared:
"I gotta buy a new belt buckle...
And it better be plastic!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
From wild battles to falling pants...
These last few chapters have been a ride!If you enjoyed it, drop a comment — and if you’re having fun, feel free to toss a Kudo too!
Chapter 120: Chapter 22: I’m Still Alive
Summary:
"Between the weight of pain and the breath of life, a will quietly endures."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first sensation Darren felt was the cool caress of the wind.
From far away, the cheerful cries of seagulls drifted toward him, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of military drills.
With great effort, Darren forced open his heavy eyelids, a sliver of bright light piercing through his blurred vision.
Am I dead?
It hurts... so much...
Long hours of unconsciousness had left his mind hazy.
It felt as if every bone in his body had been shattered, his chest burning with unbearable pain.
He lay there for a long time, enduring the suffocating agony, until he slowly, barely, began to adapt. His dry throat rasped as he drew a faint breath.
"I’m still alive."
He muttered hoarsely.
He was alive — truly alive — having survived a direct encounter with the man who would one day become the King of the Pirates.
Lying on a soft hospital bed, Darren was wrapped from head to toe in bloodstained bandages, with tubes inserted in various places. His face was as pale as a ghost.
Yet despite it all, he couldn’t help but laugh.
Laugh freely, deeply.
Though, in the final moments before collapse, he hadn’t managed to seriously wound Roger —
at least he had managed to take a small piece of revenge.
"What’s so funny?"
A cold, clear voice broke through the air.
Darren turned his head with difficulty — and met a striking face.
Her long black hair was tied back simply into a ponytail, her sharp eyes slightly upturned, giving her a fierce yet refined air.
"Seeing such a beautiful face the moment I wake up...
of course I’m happy."
He grinned weakly at Gion, who looked worn out — clearly having sat by his side for a long time.
Gion averted her eyes, a faint flush rising to her cheeks.
She snorted coldly:
"If you have the strength to talk nonsense, you’re not dying anytime soon."
Darren chuckled.
"Seeing you makes me feel much better, Lieutenant Commander Gion."
But before he could say more—
"And me! And me! Hahaha, Darren — aren't you happy to see me too?"
A very rough-looking face suddenly shoved itself into his view, beaming with excitement.
In one hand, Tokikake held a half-peeled banana, the other already gnawing at it.
"Darren, you know what? You're a celebrity in Marineford now!
Okay, maybe not quite at my genius level yet — but still, everyone’s talking about you!"
"The rising star of the Marines who fought Gol D. Roger face-to-face... and left a mark!"
"And also—"
"Tokikake...?"
Darren couldn’t help interrupting.
"Huh? What? Tell me!"
Tokikake leaned in anxiously.
After the incidents with Byrnndi World and Roger, even if Tokikake wouldn’t admit it out loud, he had already truly accepted Darren in his heart.
"Are you feeling unwell?
Should I go get the doctor?
Or maybe you’re hungry?
They said you have to fast for a few more days, you know — your internal organs are still badly injured—"
"Could you...
maybe just...
move your face back a little?"
Plop.
A chunk of banana fell to the floor.
Tokikake blinked.
Darren blinked back at him.
"You’re just jealous because I’m so handsome!"
Tokikake grumbled bitterly, retreating to a corner of the room where he began tearing open a fresh fruit basket in frustration.
Darren couldn’t help laughing again.
His mood...
was definitely improving.
He turned back toward Gion.
"This place...
it’s Marineford, right?"
He quickly scanned the surroundings.
White walls.
Ceiling fans spinning lazily overhead.
The sharp smell of disinfectant and blood hanging in the air.
Monitors beeping steadily beside him, flashing gentle lights.
The environment was all too familiar.
Gion nodded.
"That’s right.
This is the central ward at headquarters.
We arrived just a few hours ago."
Darren frowned slightly.
"How long was I out?"
"Three days."
Darren was silent for a moment, then let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.
"Looks like I really nearly overplayed my hand this time."
Ever since his physical strength had surpassed human limits — hardened to the resilience of steel —
he had never suffered such grievous injuries.
Three full days of unconsciousness.
"I’m still far from enough..."
He muttered.
Facing Roger’s blade — a strike so fierce that even spirits would flee —
if he hadn’t managed to awaken Conqueror’s Haki and instinctively activate Armament Haki at the last moment,
even his monstrous endurance would not have saved him from being split in half.
More importantly, in that split second, Darren had used his Magnet-Magnet Fruit powers to subtly apply repulsion against Roger’s supreme-grade sword, blunting its force.
Comparing everything now —
he finally realized that Byrnndi World, the so-called "World Destroyer" was nowhere near Roger’s level in true combat strength.
And by extension —
those who could clash evenly with Roger for days and nights — men like Vice Admiral Garp, Whitebeard, and the Golden Lion —
how terrifying must they truly be?
"The summit of this sea..."
Darren’s eyes gleamed faintly.
"Hahaha! Darren — heard you finally woke up!"
A hearty laugh echoed from outside the room.
Carrying a fruit basket, Dragon pushed open the door and strode in, grinning broadly.
"Rear Admiral Dragon."
Gion and Tokikake, cheeks stuffed with apples, immediately stood up and saluted.
Dragon waved off the formalities with a smile, turning toward Darren.
"Feeling any better?
On the return trip, it was mostly Tokikake and Gion taking shifts looking after you.
The ship’s medical staff were completely overwhelmed dealing with all the wounded."
"As for me and the old man... well, you know we’re not exactly caretakers."
He scratched his head sheepishly.
Most of the trip back, he and Garp had just slept.
"Much better," Darren said with a small smile.
He glanced at Gion and Tokikake —
a warm feeling rising quietly within him.
"Good.
You’d better recover fast —
the Officer Training Camp’s opening ceremony is in two days."
"Someone like the 'King of the North Blue' can’t exactly be absent from such an important event."
Dragon chuckled warmly.
After speaking, he suddenly raised an eyebrow, his expression turning playful.
"Looks like a particularly annoying guy’s on his way.
An old acquaintance of yours."
Darren blinked.
Steady, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.
Each step was precise, hard, mechanical —
like the swing of an iron pendulum.
Moments later, a tall, oppressive figure appeared at the doorway.
Just standing there, he radiated an intense, cold pressure —
a solid wall of iron and discipline.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
He’s still alive — and more determined than ever.
If you’ve been rooting for Darren, toss a Kudo and show him some love!
Chapter 121: Chapter 23: Sakazuki
Summary:
"When ideals clash like storms, even justice must walk a path of blood."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dressed in a crisp, blood-red suit and polished black boots, the young man’s wide cloak billowed gently behind him with every step.
Though he was only in his twenties, the sharp, chiseled lines of his face were as cold and unyielding as a sheer cliff.
The shadow of his peaked Marine cap veiled his eyes, making his presence even more oppressive.
A suffocating pressure filled the room the moment he entered.
"S-Sakazuki Rear Admiral!!"
Tokikake, startled by the heavy killing intent rolling off him, hastily spat out the half-eaten apple from his mouth and shot to attention, saluting stiffly.
Gion also quickly saluted.
The two of them exchanged a subtle glance, both seeing the same shock mirrored in each other’s eyes.
It had only been a month — yet Sakazuki's aura had grown even heavier, his bloodthirst thicker, almost suffocating.
The scent of smoke and blood clung to him so strongly it was as if it had seeped into his very bones.
Sakazuki didn’t even spare them a glance.
His dark, oppressive gaze slowly swept the room — lingering for a moment on Dragon — before finally settling on Darren, who lay on the hospital bed surrounded by tubes and machines.
Darren calmly met his eyes.
For a moment, the two simply stared at each other.
"I heard Roger cut you down," Sakazuki said suddenly, his voice low and rough as grinding iron.
"Almost cost you your life."
Darren nodded.
"Yeah."
"He strong?"
"Like a demon."
"Did you fight back?"
A crooked, rebellious smile tugged at Darren’s lips.
"What do you think?"
Sakazuki paused.
Then, against all expectations, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Seeing that rare, stiff smile, Dragon raised an eyebrow in astonishment.
Sakazuki... smiling?
Meanwhile, Tokikake shivered slightly.
Somehow... he looks even scarier when he smiles...
Drip.
A bright red droplet fell from Sakazuki’s gloved hand onto the floor.
"You didn’t shame the North Blue."
Seeing the blood drip onto the floor, Darren frowned.
"You’re injured?"
At this point in time, although Sakazuki was only in his twenties, there were already very few people on the seas capable of wounding him.
"I just returned from the New World," Sakazuki said nonchalantly.
"Had a little clash with that lunatic, Big Mom — Charlotte Linlin."
Hearing this, Tokikake and Gion both stiffened, their pupils contracting sharply.
Big Mom — Charlotte Linlin — once a member of the Rocks Pirates.
After the God Valley Incident, she had formed her own crew and expanded her power rapidly through marriage alliances, becoming a dominant force in the New World.
Rumor had it she was born with strength rivaling the giants and an unbreakable body.
Even as a five-year-old, blades shattered against her skin, and not even bullets could leave a scratch —
a true "steel balloon."
Her monstrous natural power had earned her the title of "Natural Calamity."
Thinking about it, both Tokikake and Gion couldn't help but glance at Darren.
After all, Darren, too, now possessed a body nearly impervious to blades and bullets.
But they understood the difference clearly —
Charlotte Linlin’s steel body was a birthright.
Darren’s was forged — through endless battles, near-death experiences, and relentless hellish training.
They were not the same.
"Charlotte Linlin..."
Dragon frowned slightly, as if recalling something.
"Wasn’t there word a while ago that she was planning to marry into the Kingdom of Barda?"
Sakazuki gave him a brief look.
"Correct.
That’s why I went to the New World — to stop the marriage."
"Barda is a wealthy, strategically important nation.
A major arms producer, known for its cannons and firearms.
We couldn’t afford to let it fall into Big Mom’s hands."
Dragon eyed him skeptically.
"With your strength... there’s no way you could match Big Mom head-on.
How exactly did you 'stop' it?"
At those words, Sakazuki smirked coldly.
"During the wedding ceremony, a battle broke out between the Marines and Big Mom’s pirates."
"In the chaos... the Prince of Barda was unfortunately caught in the crossfire.
Critically wounded.
Dead on the spot."
The blood drained from Gion and Tokikake’s faces.
Dragon’s eyes narrowed sharply.
Darren chuckled softly to himself.
Typical Sakazuki.
Efficient.
Ruthless.
Uncompromising.
There were countless ways to sabotage a marriage alliance.
Sakazuki simply chose the most direct and brutal one.
No groom, no wedding.
"Damn it, Sakazuki!! You’ve disgraced justice!!"
Dragon snapped, voice filled with anger.
"Do you realize what a political disaster you’ve caused!?"
The two had always been natural rivals —
not just as elite Marines, but because of their fundamentally different views on justice.
Dragon had long despised Sakazuki’s "end-justifies-the-means" approach to missions.
Sakazuki’s sneer only deepened.
"Better a dead prince...
than letting the Kingdom of Barda fall into the hands of that pirate scum."
Blood continued to drip steadily from his torn uniform sleeve, staining the floor crimson.
"As for Fleet Admiral Kong’s questioning —
I’ll take full responsibility."
"Not your concern, Dragon."
He glanced at Dragon with a mocking smirk.
"At least my mission was successful, wasn’t it?"
"Which is more than I can say for certain people...
who fancy themselves strong,
yet can’t even complete the most basic escort assignments."
The jab was obvious — and brutal.
Tokikake and Gion both stiffened, sensing the crackle in the air.
Instantly, cold hostility filled the room.
"What’s that supposed to mean, Sakazuki?"
Dragon’s expression darkened, his clenched fists beginning to distort the air around them into twisting winds.
"You know exactly what I mean," Sakazuki replied coldly.
"I’ve read the battle reports."
The arm dripping blood began to morph —
transforming into molten magma.
The terrifying heat filled the room with a suffocating red glow.
"Vice Admiral Garp was tied down by Roger — fine.
But you, Dragon — you had made it onto the deck of the Oro Jackson."
He stared up, the shadow of his cap hiding his brutal, merciless gaze.
"With your strength, even against the Dark King Rayleigh —
you had the chance to sink the Oro Jackson."
"If you had —
none of Roger’s crew would have escaped."
Dragon gritted his teeth.
"There were hundreds of Marines on that ship!
If we sank it —
they would’ve died!"
"And so what?"
Sakazuki laughed coldly.
"A few dozen lives — in exchange for wiping out the Roger Pirates —
seems like a fair deal to me."
"So to you, the lives of comrades and subordinates...
are just bargaining chips?"
"On the battlefield,
everyone is a bargaining chip."
"You bastard, Sakazuki!!"
The fury in their eyes erupted —
their bodies bursting with killing intent.
Red and blue auras surged violently from them, clashing midair, whipping their cloaks into wild frenzy.
The room felt ready to explode.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Between Dragon and Sakazuki, whose view of justice do you resonate with more?
Or do you have your own vision of justice?
Share your ideals below — even if they are ones you've created yourself!
Chapter 122: Chapter 24: The Noisy Hospital Room
Summary:
"Even in the midst of chaos, the heart seeks a place to rest."
Chapter Text
"These two guys... their aura is terrifying..."
Tokikake shuddered as he watched Dragon and Sakazuki face off, the air between them crackling violently.
"Dragon, your foolish compassion is dragging you down,"
Sakazuki sneered, his right arm already molten, transforming into bubbling magma that sizzled and burned dark holes into the floor.
"Justice built on sacrificing the lives of comrades—
is no justice at all!"
Dragon growled, furious, swirling a cyclone of wind in his palms.
"Sakazuki, you were wrong from the very beginning!"
Crack!
Scarlet and emerald-colored auras clashed fiercely, splitting cracks across the floor and walls of the hospital room.
"I say..."
came a dry, exasperated voice.
"...could you both show a little consideration for the injured patient here?"
Darren, lying in bed, felt a dull ache beginning to pound at his temples.
No sooner had he spoken than a lazy, infuriatingly casual voice sounded from outside the room.
"Seems pretty lively in here..."
Everyone turned toward the door.
Polishing the doorframe with his shoulder, hands casually stuffed into his pockets, stood the tall figure of Borsalino —
his mouth curled into a faint, mocking smile.
"Rear Admiral Borsalino!"
Gion and Tokikake immediately saluted.
Borsalino didn’t even glance at them — he simply strolled into the room, sunglasses gleaming.
Lifting his head slightly, he peered over his shades at Dragon and Sakazuki, his expression dripping with amusement.
"Your faces look terrifying...
I wonder what would happen if you two actually fought?"
"The clash of storms and magma...
sounds like it’d be quite the spectacle..."
At those words, Dragon and Sakazuki both fell silent for a beat —
then, as if by unspoken agreement, retracted their auras.
The hospital room instantly returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.
Though their anger still boiled inside them, neither wanted to give Borsalino the satisfaction of watching them lose control.
They both thought the same thing at once:
Better anything than letting that bastard Borsalino mock us.
"Shame, really..."
Borsalino said wistfully, smirking.
"I was hoping to finally see who’s truly the number one among the new generation of Marines."
Dragon and Sakazuki both stiffened slightly — but quickly forced themselves to calm down.
Lying in bed, Darren twitched the corner of his mouth.
This guy... he’s really just here to stir trouble, isn’t he?
His headache was getting worse.
"But you know, Commodore Darren..."
Borsalino turned his lazy gaze toward him, rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.
"Looking at those wounds of yours...
it’s almost unbelievable you’re still alive."
He clicked his tongue in admiration.
"A physique like a monster."
"The medical division even filed a request to study your body,"
he added,
"but I rejected it."
Darren glanced at him, forcing a dry smile.
"Thanks, Rear Admiral Borsalino."
Borsalino grinned lazily.
"No need for thanks.
Research like that should go to the Science Division, don’t you think?"
Darren: "..."
"Thanks... again."
He managed a very stiff smile.
Borsalino waved a hand dismissively.
"We’re all colleagues here. No need for all the politeness."
My head hurts even more now... thanks so much.
Darren let out a long, heavy breath.
He glanced at the three troublemakers now casually sitting in chairs around the room —
Sakazuki, Dragon, and Borsalino —
each one acting as if they had all the time in the world.
"I say, Rear Admirals..."
he said sourly.
"Don’t you all have jobs to do or something?
Why are you all camped out in my hospital room?"
Dragon scratched his head, frowning.
"I feel like... there was something I was supposed to do...
Eh, must not have been important.
Hahaha!"
He burst out laughing, pulling out a pack of donuts from who-knew-where and munching loudly.
Beside him, Sakazuki crossed one leg over the other, face dark as ever.
"No rush."
His answer was short, sharp — classic Sakazuki.
He pulled out a cigar and tossed another one toward Darren.
Lighting his own with a glowing fingertip, he took a deep drag without another word.
Meanwhile, Borsalino fished a nail clipper from his pocket and casually began trimming his nails, muttering:
"I think there was something...
but it’s probably fine..."
Darren stared at the three of them, clutching his aching head.
Forget it.
Pretend they’re not here.
Just rest... just rest...
As long as they didn’t start fighting again, maybe he could still salvage some peace.
A wave of exhaustion suddenly crashed over him —
the toll of his injuries overwhelming him once more.
His heavy eyelids slowly began to close.
Just as he was about to drift off—
"Bwahahahahaha!! Darren, my boy!! You awake yet?! Old Garp’s here to see you!!"
A booming laugh — as loud as thunder — echoed down the entire corridor.
Bang!
The hospital room door was kicked open.
Carrying half a roasted sea king beast slung over one shoulder, Garp stormed in with his usual swagger.
"Come! Eat!
This meat’s fresh off the sea!
Caught it myself!"
He looked around and blinked.
"Huh? You brats are here too?
Perfect! Let’s have a party!"
He turned to Tokikake.
"Hey, you! Go buy some booze!"
Tokikake blinked.
"Uh... money?"
Garp waved him off grandly.
"Money? You think an old man like me carries money?!
Ask Darren later! It’s his party, after all!"
Without waiting for a reply, Garp slammed the meat down.
"Alright, dig in!
What? Darren can’t eat yet?
Well — we’ll eat for him!!"
"......"
Darren stared blankly at the raucous, chaotic scene unfolding in front of him.
His remaining drowsiness evaporated instantly.
He lay there, gazing emptily up at the white ceiling.
Then sighed.
Deeply.
I miss the North Blue...
---
Meanwhile—
Marineford, Headquarters.
A burly figure with cropped purple hair strode toward the conference hall with calm, heavy steps.
"Admiral Zephyr!"
The Marines guarding the entrance snapped to attention, saluting with reverent excitement.
"I’m no longer an Admiral,"
Zephyr chuckled, patting one of the guards on the shoulder as he entered.
He found a seat at random, sitting down heavily — then frowned.
"I thought there was supposed to be a meeting, Sengoku?"
He turned toward Sengoku, who was already seated.
"And where is everyone?"
Sengoku sat there, staring at the rows of empty chairs.
Slowly, his face darkened to the color of the deepest thunderclouds.
Clenching his fists tightly, he gritted his teeth.
"Those bastards!!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 123: Chapter 25: The Hot-Tempered Admiral
Summary:
"As old legends wane and new flames rise, the tides of justice shift — with or without our consent."
Chapter Text
"Where the hell did they all run off to!?"
The walls of the Fleet Admiral's conference room trembled violently as Sengoku, Marine Headquarters’ Admiral, roared in fury.
Even the Marines standing guard outside jumped in fright at the sheer volume of his outburst.
"This was an important military meeting!!"
"Where’s Sakazuki?!
I haven’t even settled accounts with him over that mess in the Barda Kingdom!!"
"And Borsalino!?
The Marine Science Division isn’t going to organize itself!"
"What about Dragon and that old bastard Garp!?
They haven’t even fully explained the operation against the Roger Pirates yet!!"
Inside the empty conference room, Sengoku’s face was a deep, furious shade of blue.
He slammed a heavy fist onto the conference table, glaring murderously at the administrative officers standing before him.
Fleet Admiral Kong had gone to the Holy Land, Mariejois, to report to the Gorosei —
leaving Sengoku to preside over this meeting, a chance for him to practice the duties and responsibilities of a Fleet Admiral.
This was supposed to be a critical opportunity to prove himself —
both to Kong and to the upper brass of Marine Headquarters.
It was also meant to send a political signal —
that Sengoku was ready to inherit the mantle of leadership.
But now?
In his very first attempt to lead such a crucial meeting,
the only attendees were himself... and Zephyr, a retired relic!
If word of this humiliation got out,
how would the rest of the Marines view Admiral Sengoku, the future Fleet Admiral!?
"Future Fleet Admiral holds top military meeting—
and the entire upper command skips it!"
Just imagining the headlines made his blood boil.
What a joke.
How could he command the Marines if he couldn't even command respect!?
"You did send the notifications, right?"
Sengoku snapped at the administrators.
There was still a sliver of desperate hope flickering in his heart.
Maybe... they just didn’t get the memo.
After all, he was still an Admiral!
And he was representing Fleet Admiral Kong himself!
No matter how unruly they were, surely they would have shown basic respect... right?
Right?
The administrators shrank back, exchanging terrified glances.
Finally, one officer, a lieutenant commander, stammered:
"W-We did, sir.
The meeting notifications were sent well in advance.
All participants confirmed receipt..."
At that, Zephyr’s mouth twitched —
he quickly turned away, struggling to suppress his laughter.
Sengoku’s face darkened even further.
So they had received the summons... and still chose not to come!?
Veins bulged across his forehead.
Steam practically shot from his nostrils.
His back teeth ground together with an audible crack-crack-crack.
"FIND THEM!!"
he roared through gritted teeth.
"IMMEDIATELY!!"
The administrative staff bolted from the room as if fleeing a monster.
Zephyr, watching Sengoku’s seething form, couldn’t help but chuckle.
"This isn’t like you, Sengoku," he said.
"It’s just a meeting. No need to lose your head."
He smiled teasingly.
"Hey, at least I showed up."
Sengoku collapsed into the main chair with a deep, exhausted sigh, shooting Zephyr a withering look.
"Like hell that helps.
You, old man, don’t even care about anything anymore.
It’s not like you’re going to help me shoulder the responsibility."
He shook his head, grumbling bitterly.
"Zephyr...
you know Headquarters is getting short on manpower.
And Kong’s about to hand the full burden over to me soon."
He looked up, sincerity shining in his eyes.
"Honestly...
I’m not confident."
Before his old comrade — one he had once trusted with his life —
Sengoku spoke with raw honesty, without hiding anything.
"I need my old comrades by my side."
His voice grew heavier, more earnest.
"Think about it —
how long has it been since we fought side by side?"
Zephyr’s eyes flickered, a brief, nostalgic gleam —
but it quickly faded into something quieter.
A sliver of disappointment, hidden under a mask of calm.
He answered flatly:
"You still have Garp.
And the new generation — Sakazuki, Dragon, Borsalino — they’re rising fast."
Sengoku sighed inwardly, a pang of helplessness twisting in his chest.
"The times aren’t waiting for us, Zephyr."
"Even though the God Valley Incident has long passed into history,
the shadow of Rocks hasn’t disappeared."
"Roger, Whitebeard, the Golden Lion...
and now Kaido and Charlotte Linlin are rising fast."
"You know what Garp’s like —
orders go in one ear and out the other.
Not even Kong could control him; you think I can?"
"As for Sakazuki and the others...
sure, they’re monsters in terms of talent.
But they’re still a ways from becoming the true top-tier powers of this sea."
"They’ll need more time."
"And the Barda Kingdom fiasco proves it."
"If you had been there,
this mess never would’ve happened."
Sengoku’s voice turned bitter.
"In the end, it’s simple:
Marine Headquarters just doesn’t have enough top-end combat power right now."
Zephyr said nothing for a long moment.
"They’ll grow," he said finally.
He raised his head and smiled —
too calmly, too quietly.
"As for me...
I’m just an old has-been who couldn’t even protect his own family."
"Now,
I’m just the Academy’s short-tempered instructor.
Nothing more."
"Leave the future of the Marines...
to someone else."
Sengoku gazed at Zephyr’s serene smile.
Deep down, he felt a bitter sadness.
That smile —
it wasn’t joy,
nor hope.
It was the smile of a man who had already accepted disappointment,
and still chose to stand firm out of pure stubborn duty.
Sengoku knew then —
there was no convincing Zephyr.
"Alright,"
he said quietly.
"I understand."
Zephyr chuckled.
"Don’t worry.
It won’t be long before we have more admirals to stand tall."
"Sakazuki, Borsalino, Dragon...
and I heard there are some promising newcomers in this year’s Elite Officer Training Camp?"
Sengoku pushed aside his gloom and smiled.
"Yes.
Gion and Tokikake —
you know them."
"They matured a lot after their mission to the North Blue.
With the right guidance,
they’ll become pillars of the Marines."
"And beyond them..."
he leaned in slightly, voice lowering.
"There are two recruits this year...
with talents rivaling even Sakazuki’s generation."
"One is named Kuzan —
a prodigy from the South Blue."
"His abilities are monstrous.
But more importantly —
his sense of justice burns like an unquenchable fire."
At that, Zephyr’s eyes lit up with genuine interest for the first time.
"Oh?"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 124: Chapter 26: A Wasted Generation
Summary:
"Talent may light the way, but it is the heart that decides where the path will lead."
Chapter Text
"Burning Justice?"
Zephyr’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Though he had already produced talents like Sakazuki — dazzling, brilliant stars who had become pillars of the Marines —
deep down, Zephyr was never fully satisfied with them.
Sakazuki’s character was far too rigid and brutal.
In pursuit of missions, he would stop at nothing — ruthless not only toward enemies, but also toward his own subordinates.
Time and again, he resorted to extreme methods on the battlefield, exterminating pirates and criminals at any cost.
This was a sharp contradiction to Zephyr’s own creed: "Justice without killing."
It was precisely because of Sakazuki’s bloodthirst that, after he graduated from the Officer Training Camp,
Zephyr had insisted on making him his adjutant —
hoping that through direct mentorship, he could temper the boy’s extremes.
But unfortunately, no amount of guidance could change Sakazuki.
He remained obstinate — unwavering in his path.
In the end, Zephyr had no choice but to let him be.
Dragon, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
Easygoing, tolerant, warm —
the very image of a "Hero’s Son."
With his overwhelming charisma and leadership, Dragon had earned the loyalty and admiration of countless mid- and low-ranking Marines.
Under the banner of justice, he was a blazing comet.
But sadly, along with inheriting Garp’s devotion to protecting civilians and comrades,
he also inherited Garp’s flaws.
Rough around the edges.
Frequently aloof.
Often treating orders with... questionable seriousness.
In Zephyr’s eyes, this was a serious problem.
In the Marines, orders were absolute.
A soldier's first duty was discipline.
Following personal whims during missions was not acceptable.
It was no wonder, then, that Dragon and Sakazuki constantly clashed —
their diametrically opposed views of justice igniting fierce conflict.
Dragon despised Sakazuki’s ruthless methods.
Sakazuki loathed Dragon’s indecisiveness and lax attitude.
And then... there was Borsalino.
Marine Headquarters’ "third pillar."
Well.
Nothing more needed to be said about that one.
That pillar had been crooked from the start.
Every time Zephyr saw Borsalino’s sleazy grin and lazily drawled words,
he felt like his entire life's reputation had been dragged through the mud.
And the worst part?
Borsalino had been his very first student from the very first Officer Training Camp.
Just thinking about it made Zephyr even more desperate for hope.
He stared expectantly at Sengoku.
"Sengoku — tell me about this Kuzan kid."
Sengoku gave him a half-smiling, half-mocking look.
"My, you’re not even trying to hide it anymore...
You really that disappointed with your old students?"
Zephyr coughed awkwardly.
"Not at all.
Cough... you know me.
Always full of hope for new blood."
Can’t exactly say those three brats were a total waste...
Sengoku didn’t bother exposing that flimsy excuse.
He knew his old comrade too well.
No matter how rough around the edges his students were,
Zephyr always gave them everything he had.
Sengoku chuckled.
"I’ve met Kuzan.
He’s from the South Blue.
His talent... easily matches Sakazuki’s."
"He burns with a genuine passion for justice.
Apparently, that’s what drove him to join the Marines in the first place."
Zephyr nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling.
"And the other one?"
"You mentioned two promising recruits this year."
Sengoku’s expression turned... complicated.
He hesitated.
"The other one..."
he said slowly,
"is from the North Blue.
Name’s Rogers Darren."
At that name, Zephyr’s eyes lit up.
"Rogers Darren!?
I’ve heard that name — isn’t he the one everyone’s talking about lately?
The Marine rookie who fought Roger himself and lived to tell the tale!?"
Having retired from frontline duties, Zephyr rarely involved himself with the latest gossip from Marineford.
Even when he attended meetings, it was mostly out of courtesy from Kong and Sengoku.
He didn’t keep up with most of the latest incidents.
But even he had heard that rumor.
Sengoku nodded.
"That’s the one."
Zephyr’s excitement surged.
A Marine capable of making the future Pirate King suffer —
before even graduating from training camp?
If he could teach and mold this young man,
the potential was almost too dazzling to imagine.
A gold mine dropped into his lap.
He couldn’t help but grin.
This Darren kid might even surpass Sakazuki and the others!
"Don't get too excited just yet,"
Sengoku warned, watching his friend’s expression carefully.
Zephyr waved him off.
"Come on.
How bad could it be?
He can't possibly be worse than Sakazuki."
Sengoku’s face twitched slightly.
"Well..."
he muttered,
"technically, Darren was Sakazuki’s adjutant before."
Zephyr froze.
The grin slipped slightly from his face.
Still, he chuckled stubbornly.
"That doesn't matter.
Just because he served under Sakazuki doesn’t mean he shares his philosophy."
Sengoku blinked innocently.
"True enough."
For some reason, seeing Zephyr’s confident face,
Sengoku felt a mischievous urge to tease.
Zephyr chuckled again.
"I thought so."
"He's even worse than Sakazuki."
"In the North Blue, under his rule,
he turned the entire region into an iron fortress."
"Dozens of allied and unaffiliated nations bowed to his authority.
He wiped out hundreds of pirate crews and dark organizations."
"The blood on his hands is... uncountable."
Zephyr’s smile froze.
He forced the corners of his mouth upward stiffly.
"Well...
at least that proves he’s capable, right?"
Sengoku nodded cheerfully.
"Absolutely."
Zephyr exhaled deeply, trying to regain composure.
"Good.
If he’s capable,
and if his character is salvageable,
then I have confidence.
I can bring him back to the right path."
"I believe in you, Zephyr,"
Sengoku said warmly.
"But just so you know..."
"In the North Blue,
Darren’s reputation isn’t exactly... spotless."
"He’s notorious across the seas as a 'Marine Disgrace.'"
"Greedy.
Lecherous.
A drunkard.
A gambler.
A power-hungry tyrant."
"Every vice you can name."
Zephyr: "..."
"......Sengoku."
"Hm?"
"Could you please, for once, tell me everything at once?
You're really pissing me off.
You remind me of someone."
"Who?"
"Your adjutant."
"Borsalino."
"......BULLSHIT!!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 125: Chapter 27: You Already Have Borsalino
Summary:
"The strength of a generation is not measured by talent alone, but by the hands that shape it — and the hearts that carry it forward."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"How am I anything like that bastard Borsalino!?"
Sengoku’s voice erupted, his face flushing red with anger.
He seemed particularly sensitive to this topic.
"Whether it’s personality, work style, or execution —
I’m nothing like Borsalino!"
"Tell me!
Exactly where do you see the resemblance!?"
Just thinking about that sleazy bastard’s smug smirks and infuriatingly sarcastic comments made Sengoku’s blood boil even more.
Zephyr thoughtfully rubbed his chin, thinking it over seriously.
But after a moment’s reflection, he realized he couldn’t really find many similarities.
Finally, he muttered:
"...When you both use your Devil Fruit powers, you glow."
Sengoku: "..."
You little shit.
Clearly, this was revenge for teasing him earlier.
Seeing Sengoku’s twitching expression, Zephyr finally smiled in satisfaction and shifted topics.
"But Sengoku... if this Darren kid has such a terrible reputation,
how did he even pass the review to join the Officer Training Camp?"
"Because his talent is overwhelming."
At the mention of serious matters, Sengoku’s demeanor instantly sobered.
"You’ve been too absorbed in teaching lately, Zephyr —
you’ve missed some things."
"Darren, with the power and influence he amassed in the North Blue,
organized a fleet of terrifying strength."
"And with his Magnet-Magnet Fruit,
he turned that fleet into an airborne armada."
"What!?"
Zephyr’s pupils shrank.
Shock flashed across his face.
A flying fleet!?
As a pillar of justice,
a former Marine Admiral,
Zephyr instantly grasped the strategic weight of those two simple words.
"That’s right,"
Sengoku said heavily.
"With a weapon like that,
Darren’s personal flaws were irrelevant."
"And besides his strategic Devil Fruit abilities,
his own talents are monstrous."
While speaking, Sengoku opened a drawer and pulled out a thick intelligence file.
He handed it to Zephyr.
"This is Darren’s personal evaluation."
"Monster-level talent, huh?"
Zephyr took the file, flipping it open casually.
Having taught students like Sakazuki, Dragon, and Borsalino,
he thought he had seen every kind of "monster" Marine could produce.
How monstrous could this one be?
More than Borsalino, that lazy brat?
But as he scanned the pages —
his eyes widened so fast it looked like they would pop out of his skull.
"Body like iron — near invulnerable to blades and bullets?"
"Pure physical speed matching a Soru user's instantaneous burst?"
"Unbelievable regenerative abilities — healing lethal injuries in mere days?"
"Self-taught mastery of Armament Haki!?"
Zephyr gaped at the file.
Line after line,
the descriptions blurred into one horrifying realization.
In his mind’s eye, he conjured an image of Darren:
A hulking ten-meter-tall beast,
horned, scaly, clawed,
a walking nightmare of muscle and armor.
And then he glanced at the attached photo:
A handsome young man with messy black hair,
an arrogant glint in his eyes,
smirking confidently.
"......"
Zephyr’s brain stuttered trying to reconcile the two images.
Meanwhile, Sengoku couldn’t hold back his laughter.
"Now you see?"
"Darren’s a monster among monsters."
"But that’s not even the best part."
Sengoku leaned in,
lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"That brat awakened Conqueror’s Haki."
The words dropped like a thunderclap.
Zephyr’s face froze.
Conqueror’s Haki.
As a man who had borne the title of Admiral,
who had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the giants of the Marine world,
Zephyr understood perfectly well what that meant.
In the New World, among the chaotic seas,
many pirates awakened Conqueror’s Haki.
The legends — Whitebeard, Roger, Golden Lion, Kaido, Big Mom —
each and every one of them had mastered it to terrifying degrees.
But on the side of the Marines?
Those who had awakened Conqueror’s Haki were... painfully few.
Even Zephyr himself had never awakened it.
He had suffered bitter losses because of that fact —
unable to properly counter the overwhelming force of the kings of the sea.
He had relied on sheer Armament Haki and brute force to survive.
Because of that,
it had become a lifelong wish of his —
to train the next generation of Marines into warriors who could stand toe-to-toe with the monsters of the New World.
But not even Sakazuki, Borsalino, or Dragon had managed to awaken it.
It was his one lingering regret.
Until now.
Hope burned anew.
An overwhelming strategic Devil Fruit.
A monstrous body and talent.
And now, Conqueror’s Haki?
The more Zephyr thought about it,
the more his heart pounded with excitement.
He could already imagine it:
Under his personal training,
this Darren kid would one day clash against Whitebeard or Golden Lion,
their Conqueror’s Haki shattering the heavens,
the very world trembling at their battle!
"Good!!"
Zephyr suddenly slammed a heavy palm onto the conference table.
His eyes burned fiercely.
He was breathing hard, filled with an uncontrollable energy.
"This kid Darren —
I’m claiming him!!
As soon as he graduates, he’s mine —"
"Hold it!!"
Sengoku’s face changed.
Panic flared in his heart.
"Don’t even think about it!"
"I’ve already decided —
once Darren graduates, he’s going to be my adjutant!"
From the moment Zephyr had opened his mouth, Sengoku had known exactly where this was going.
"Like hell!"
Zephyr snapped back.
"You already have Borsalino!!"
The very mention of that name made Sengoku’s face darken with fury.
"You can have Borsalino!!
Hell, I’ll send him to Kong!
I only want Darren!"
"And don’t forget, Zephyr —
I already backed down when it came to Sakazuki!"
Zephyr shook his head wildly.
"No way, no way.
Sengoku, think about it —
a gem like Darren can't be ruined by you!"
"If you get your hands on him,
he’ll turn into another Borsalino!"
Sengoku’s face turned purple with rage.
"Borsalino was born that way!!
That has nothing to do with me!!"
"And besides —
you haven’t even awakened Conqueror’s Haki!
What could you possibly teach him!?"
He played his trump card without mercy.
Zephyr’s thick neck flushed red with fury.
He slammed the table.
"And you’re some grand master of Conqueror’s Haki!?
With that pathetic excuse of a will!?"
"It’s still better than you!!"
"You damn bastard Sengoku —
you must be itching for a beating!!"
"You think I’m afraid of you!?
Bring it on —
let’s see if your so-called ‘Golden Buddha’ head is as sturdy as you brag!"
Their snarling faces pressed together,
twisting in mutual rage.
Right then,
a resigned voice interrupted them.
"Honestly, you two...
aren’t you a little old for this?"
The door opened.
In walked a tall, commanding woman with silver-streaked hair —
still exuding the aura of strength and authority.
It was Vice Admiral Tsuru, the Great Staff Officer of Marine Headquarters.
She stared at the two grown men bickering like children,
a vein throbbing in her forehead.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author's Note:
> Just to add a little more—
Although the pacing of this story is slower compared to typical fast-paced web novels, the plot will be deep, rich, and expansive, aiming for over two million words.
I chose to set the timeline this far back precisely to fill in the gaps left by the original work.
Stories about Dragon during his time as a Marine,
Kuzan before he lost his fire,
Zephyr, Borsalino, Sakazuki before their fates changed —
This book isn't just about Darren.
It's about the Marines,
about all those stories that the original never had the time to tell.
Thank you for reading — and I humbly ask for your continued support!
Chapter 126: Chapter 28: Truly Insidious
Summary:
"True strength lies not in power, but in patience, wisdom, and the courage to act when it matters most."
Chapter Text
Though Great Staff Officer Tsuru was only in her early forties,
the endless demands of Marine Headquarters,
and the fact that Zephyr and Garp so often dumped their responsibilities onto her,
had left their marks on her body and spirit.
Her once glossy black hair was now streaked heavily with silver.
Her slender figure was wrapped in a formal Marine coat,
but fatigue clung to her like a second skin.
Standing at the door of the meeting room,
Tsuru massaged her temples,
watching the ridiculous spectacle unfold before her eyes —
two of the Marine’s highest-ranking officers were currently...
grappling with each other like a pair of feral dogs.
Sengoku and Zephyr, both flushed red in the face,
were locked in a chaotic wrestling match,
their hands clawing at each other’s uniforms,
their once-impeccable coats wrinkled and torn.
"You two old fools,"
Tsuru said with a sigh,
her voice cool and sharp as the sea breeze,
"what are you fighting about this time?"
She had merely arrived a few minutes late,
having been caught up sorting intelligence reports,
and already these two had managed to turn the conference room into a warzone.
Upon hearing her voice, Sengoku and Zephyr spared her a fleeting glance —
then immediately resumed their scuffle,
grunting and snarling like stubborn old bulls.
"Don’t hold me back, Tsuru!
Today I’m finally going to bash this bastard Sengoku into the ground!"
Zephyr growled,
his massive fists swinging wildly.
"You're just in time, Tsuru!"
Sengoku snapped,
"Watch carefully —
I'm about to smash Sengoku’s stupid glasses and roast his goat for dinner!"
"You dare touch my goat and it’ll be the last thing you ever do!!"
Sengoku roared.
"Hah!
Scared now, are you?
Fine — I won’t touch your goat.
But Rogers Darren will be coming under my command!!"
"Like hell he is!!"
Sengoku bellowed,
"You've already got enough headaches — Darren belongs with me!"
"Fat chance!"
Zephyr retorted.
"Borsalino is yours already!!"
Hearing this,
Tsuru’s temples throbbed harder.
She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling a steadying breath.
From the useless shouting,
she finally pieced together the truth.
These two idiots —
veteran heroes of the Marine Headquarters —
were fighting like children over who would get to claim the most brilliant new star to emerge in years:
Rogers Darren.
A political genius who had brought order to the chaotic North Blue.
A monstrous talent whose potential rivaled Sakazuki himself.
A prodigy who had faced none other than Gol D. Roger and survived.
A man who had awakened the rare and fearsome Conqueror’s Haki.
A prize so dazzling that no one could afford to ignore him.
Tsuru shook her head,
watching the two of them continue to brawl like rabid dogs.
"You two can fight all you want,"
she said coolly,
"but it’s useless."
"Garp already came to me earlier,"
she added, crossing her arms.
"He’s already submitted a formal request.
Once Darren graduates from the Marine Officer Training Camp,
he’ll be assigned as Garp’s adjutant."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then, in perfect unison, Sengoku and Zephyr exploded:
"LIKE HELL!!"
Their voices boomed through the conference room.
Tsuru smirked faintly,
enjoying the sight of their shocked faces.
"Garp’s reasons were very sound,"
she said, almost lazily.
"First — Darren has awakened Conqueror’s Haki, and possesses an extraordinarily powerful physique.
Who better to mentor him than Garp?"
"Second —
with the Rocks Pirates destroyed,
the Roger Pirates have become the Marine’s greatest threat."
"And Darren,
having already fought Roger face-to-face,
is perfectly suited to join the battle against them."
Hearing this, Sengoku and Zephyr felt their stomachs drop.
If Garp had already put in an official request,
and with such solid logic behind it,
even Fleet Admiral Kong would likely side with him.
They exchanged glances,
silent agreement passing between them.
Sengoku reached out to straighten Zephyr’s rumpled tie.
"Ahem...
perhaps it’s meaningless for us to quarrel like this,"
he said with forced dignity.
"Indeed,"
Zephyr said solemnly,
graciously brushing dust off Sengoku’s shoulder.
"As high-ranking Marines,
we must set an example.
Justice, after all, is about freedom and peace."
"Exactly."
Sengoku nodded, throwing an arm around Zephyr’s shoulders.
"Ultimately, Darren should have the right to choose freely.
We must respect his will."
The two old veterans exchanged stiff, insincere smiles,
each secretly vowing to sabotage the other’s plans the moment Darren appeared.
Tsuru watched the performance with dead eyes.
She knew these two too well.
"Hypocrites,"
she muttered under her breath.
Glancing around at the empty conference room,
she said aloud:
"By the way... where is everyone else?"
Just as she spoke,
the door burst open and a flustered administrative officer stumbled inside, panting heavily.
"R-Reporting, Admiral Sengoku!"
Sengoku’s eyes sharpened instantly.
"Did you find them?"
The officer wiped his forehead nervously.
"Yes, sir!
We’ve located Vice Admiral Garp, Rear Admiral Borsalino, Rear Admiral Sakazuki, and Rear Admiral Dragon."
"...All in one place?"
"Yes, sir!"
The officer looked as though he wished he could melt into the floor.
"They’re all... at the Marine Hospital."
Sengoku froze.
The hospital?
Had someone been injured?
The realization struck him like a hammer.
His expression twisted into a dark grimace.
Zephyr noticed immediately.
"What is it, Sengoku?"
Sengoku ground his teeth, fists clenching.
"Dammit!
Darren’s still in the hospital recovering from his battle with Roger!"
Zephyr’s face shifted as he grasped the situation instantly.
The two old men locked eyes.
They’d been played.
Garp, that insidious old bastard,
had skipped the meeting altogether,
gone straight to Darren’s bedside,
and was now building rapport and trust while they sat here wasting time!
The choice of who Darren would follow wasn’t just about rank or title —
it was about who he trusted.
Who he felt closest to.
And Garp was already pulling ahead.
"That cunning old fox!!"
Sengoku roared.
Zephyr slammed his fist into his palm in frustration.
Without a second’s hesitation,
they both turned and sprinted for the door.
"Where are you going!?"
Tsuru shouted after them, frowning.
"Aren’t we having a meeting!?"
Without so much as a backward glance, Sengoku shouted:
"We’re moving the meeting to the hospital!!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 127: Chapter 29: The Training Camp Begins!
Summary:
"Strength grows not only through battles fought, but through bonds tested by time and trial."
Chapter Text
Sengoku and Zephyr stormed through the main gates of the Marine Headquarters Hospital,
their grim and thunderous presence striking fear into the hearts of every doctor and nurse they passed.
The suffocating pressure they exuded was enough to make the air itself seem heavy.
"Admiral Sengoku... Admiral Zephyr... and Great Staff Officer Tsuru..."
someone whispered.
"Why do they look so serious?"
"Is something terrible about to happen?"
"As expected from the pillars of the Marines...
just their aura alone could kill a man..."
The hospital staff exchanged hushed, nervous murmurs as they watched the three officers march down the hall,
Sengoku and Zephyr moving like unstoppable forces,
with Tsuru following at a more measured, detached pace.
Without delay, they headed straight for the VIP ward.
But before they could reach it,
laughter — wild and unrestrained — floated out from one of the rooms.
"Come on, eat more roast meat! Bwahahahaha!"
"Old man, you're pathetic! You can’t even hold your liquor!"
"Shut up!! Fill my cup again!!"
"Tokikake, stop stuffing your face!"
"Sakazuki, wipe that scowl off your face — no one's asking you to collect debts here!"
"......"
Sengoku froze at the door,
the muscles in his fists tightening until his knuckles cracked audibly.
His face turned a shade darker than the bottom of a burned pot.
Beside him, Zephyr and Tsuru were both twitching at the corners of their mouths, black lines appearing over their heads.
A... a party!?
Sengoku’s temple throbbed.
He had summoned them to the Fleet Admiral’s office for an urgent meeting —
and here they were, throwing a goddamn party in a hospital room!?
Zephyr snuck a glance at Sengoku’s expression and almost felt sorry for what was about to happen.
Just then, inside the room, a drunken voice slurred out:
"Wait... feels like we forgot something important... weren't we supposed to do something?"
Then came Garp’s hearty shout:
"Hmm? Yeah, something like that... let me think..."
One beat passed.
"Ah, forget it!
If we can't remember, it probably wasn’t important! Bwahahahaha!!"
BANG!!
Sengoku could no longer contain himself.
With a roar that shook the hospital walls, he kicked the door open with a deafening crash.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?!"
The noise cut off instantly.
Inside the room:
Chaos.
Empty liquor bottles littered the floor.
Garp and Dragon were slumped together in a drunken heap, faces flushed red, arms wrapped around each other like old drinking buddies.
Garp still had a piece of roast meat hanging from his mouth; Dragon was cradling a bottle of whiskey like a baby.
Sakazuki sat cross-legged on the floor, grilling meat over a small brazier with perfect calm, a knife in hand.
Borsalino lounged in a chair, legs crossed, smiling lazily behind his ever-present sunglasses.
Gion stood stiffly against a wall, her face a mask of deadpan indifference.
Tokikake clutched a microphone, halfway through a passionate, tone-deaf karaoke performance,
an enormous portable speaker blaring beside him.
The air seemed frozen solid.
Sengoku: "..."
Zephyr: "..."
Tsuru: "..."
Everyone in the room: "..."
Then:
"—YOU BASTARDS!!"
Sengoku’s roar shook the entire hospital like an earthquake.
---
Several days later...
"You’re simply unbelievable, Commodore Darren.
Your body’s resilience... it’s beyond human."
The blonde, voluptuous doctor, Maria, stared at Darren’s medical chart with unconcealed amazement.
In just a few days, this young Marine officer’s catastrophic wounds had mostly healed —
a recovery speed that defied all logic.
Without witnessing it firsthand, she would have called it impossible.
"Thank you for your kind words, Doctor Maria,"
Darren replied with a casual smile,
buttoning up his crisp new uniform over the fierce scars that covered his iron-hard body.
He turned to her, flashing a grin so disarmingly roguish that Maria’s cheeks tinted pink.
"Thank you for everything these past few days."
"N-Not at all, Commodore Darren...!"
Maria stammered, flustered.
"If you prefer, you can just call me Maria..."
Darren laughed softly.
"But I rather like calling you Doctor Maria."
He winked.
Maria’s blush deepened,
memories of their... "interesting" encounters flashing through her mind,
leaving her almost dizzy.
A dry cough abruptly shattered the atmosphere.
Turning, Maria saw Tokikake standing awkwardly at the newly repaired door,
a look of barely concealed irritation on his face.
"Commander Tokikake,"
Maria said coolly, all traces of her earlier shyness vanishing.
Tokikake’s mouth twitched.
"See you around, Doctor Maria,"
Darren said cheerfully, waving as the embarrassed doctor hurried away.
Tokikake walked into the room, scowling, and flopped into a chair.
"Congratulations on the promotion, Commander Tokikake,"
Darren said with a teasing smile.
Tokikake grunted,
not bothering to hide the fresh bruises and swelling that covered his face and arms.
Thanks to their... "banquet,"
everyone involved had been forced to write long, groveling apologies and face disciplinary action.
Of course, only the unlucky ones, like Tokikake, actually got punished.
Tsuru’s adopted sister Gion (Tsuru herself being far too influential) had been spared.
Garp, Dragon, Sakazuki, and Borsalino?
Forget about it.
They ignored the punishment orders as easily as they ignored a summer breeze.
Tokikake, meanwhile, had been mercilessly thrashed.
"You seem to be doing just fine too,"
Darren said, chuckling at the sight of him.
"Shut up,"
Tokikake muttered, tearing open a fruit basket and angrily gnawing on an apple.
"You ready yet?"
Darren finished adjusting his tie,
draped the heavy Justice coat over his shoulders,
and smiled faintly.
"I’ve been ready for a long time."
A crisp sea breeze fluttered through the window,
making his cloak billow behind him like the wings of a hawk.
An invisible pressure — composed of calm authority and silent strength — radiated from his frame.
Tokikake squinted slightly.
Was it just his imagination,
or had Darren grown even stronger after clashing with the Roger Pirates?
"Wasn’t he supposed to be critically wounded?"
Tokikake muttered.
Darren ignored him, adjusting the strap of his coat.
"Are the others already there?"
Tokikake nodded, tossing the apple core aside.
"They’re just waiting for you."
Darren’s lips curled into a confident smirk.
Lighting a cigar, he took a deep pull, his eyes flashing with fierce spirit.
"Then let’s not keep them waiting."
"The 3rd Elite Officer Training Camp... is about to begin."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 128: Chapter 30: The Concept of Aerial Assault
Summary:
"Even the mightiest fortress carries the shadow of its own destruction."
Chapter Text
The Marineford base of the Marines' headquarters was the largest and most fortified military installation Darren had ever seen.
As he stepped out of the naval hospital's doors under the bright and rather passionate farewells of the nurses and doctors, a towering fortress of gray-black stone loomed before him, occupying nearly his entire field of vision.
Massive black cannons lined its flanks, and from a distance, the stronghold resembled some colossal war beast, its gaping jaws open, poised to devour any enemy foolish enough to approach.
Upon the wall of the fortress, the bold, sweeping calligraphy of a single word dominated the landscape: Justice.
Its presence emanated a palpable, oppressive aura.
Beyond the fortress, the massive oval-shaped military port stretched across the coastline.
Buster Call Class battleships — colossal vessels taller than buildings — lay moored in tight formation, while patrol fleets steadily sailed in and out.
The gleam of endless seagull-flags flapping in the wind nearly blotted out the blue sky.
Darren swept his gaze across the harbor.
Along both sides of the port and the military buffer zones, rows upon rows of towering black artillery emplacements stood in solemn silence, their obsidian barrels reflecting the sunlight like silent gods of war.
The Marines who patrolled or repaired the area below them looked insignificant — like ants crawling across a titan’s skin.
Everywhere Darren looked, soldiers moved with sharp, seasoned efficiency.
Their presence alone spoke volumes: these were not green recruits, but battle-hardened elites.
"See that?"
Tokikake's voice, smug with pride, broke through Darren’s reverie.
Puffing contentedly on a cigar — one shamelessly "borrowed" from Darren’s get-well-soon gifts — Tokikake gestured grandly at the scene before them.
"This is the headquarters of the Marines," he said, puffing out his chest like an overstuffed rooster.
"Sure, your North Blue Fleet is decent, I’ll give you that. But this—"
He swept his arm dramatically.
"—this fortress, this harbor, this firepower... It’s the might of true justice, something your little sea can't even dream of matching."
There was an unmistakable pride in his voice, the kind you’d expect from a city slicker boasting about his hometown to a country bumpkin.
"No one," Tokikake declared, "has ever breached Marineford. Not once since its founding."
Darren merely smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on the towering cannons, the wall, the placement of the patrols.
Tokikake frowned, sensing the lack of awe he’d expected.
"Oi, oi, you listening? What are you thinking about?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing much," Darren said casually, snapping out of his study of the defenses.
"I was just wondering... if it were me, how would I go about taking this place down?"
There was a short pause.
Tokikake blinked.
"What the hell did you just say?"
"Relax," Darren laughed, holding up his hands innocently.
"I’m just joking."
But the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
Suspicious, Tokikake squinted at him.
"Seriously though... could you do it?"
Darren stopped walking for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.
"If I had the North Blue Fleet at full strength... if I could avoid the areas covered by the heavy batteries... if I could launch a surprise assault from the skies—"
"Hold up," Tokikake interrupted, waving his hands.
"From the skies? What are you even talking about?"
"Oh, right."
Darren smiled as if he had forgotten something obvious.
"‘Aerial assault.’ It’s a method where forces attack from the air. In simple terms — raining death from above."
Tokikake’s mouth opened slightly.
For this world, where even the concept of true air power barely existed, it was like hearing a fantasy.
"R-right... I knew that," Tokikake muttered quickly, pretending nonchalance.
"So what’s the plan?"
Darren laughed and continued walking.
"If I could pin down Borsalino and Dragon somehow…
I’d say I’d have about a thirty percent chance of disabling Marineford’s key facilities."
His voice turned light, almost playful.
"And maybe a ten percent chance of leveling the entire island."
Tokikake stumbled, staring at Darren like he had grown two heads.
"You’re kidding me, right!?"
Darren winked.
"Of course. This place is the stronghold of justice.
How could it ever fall?"
He threw a hand over his shoulder and strode onward without looking back.
Tokikake stood frozen for a moment, watching Darren’s back lit by the morning sun.
The silhouette stretched long across the ground, swallowing up the Justice inscribed behind him in a dark, heavy shadow.
He shivered.
Somehow... even though Darren had said it was a joke, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been deadly serious.
Above them, white seagulls wheeled joyfully in the perfect blue sky, their cries sharp and clean.
But in Tokikake’s mind, another image intruded:
Monstrous iron ships breaking through the clouds, cannon fire screaming downward, raining apocalyptic destruction across the Marineford fortress... until nothing but burning ruins remained.
He jolted awake as Darren’s voice called out lazily.
"Oi, Commander Tokikake — you planning to stand there all day?"
Tokikake hurried to catch up, plastering a grin on his face.
"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!"
As they left the towering military harbor behind, the stone gate of the Elite Officer Training Camp came into view.
Vines of ivy crept up its walls, and before the entrance stood a massive stone slab, carved deep with the words:
'All Glory and Life Belong to Justice.'
The signature beneath it — Zephyr — glistened faintly in the morning light.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 129: Chapter 31: The Hot-Blooded Youth, Kuzan
Summary:
"The fire of youth burns bright — whether it forges heroes or ashes depends on the heart that carries it."
Chapter Text
Golden sunlight poured down from the sky, the ivy clinging to the mottled walls trembling slightly, lush and vibrant with life.
Beneath the sunlight, the stone monument emitted a deep, profound aura, filling the heart with a sense of calm.
"I heard... that our class will be the last Elite Officer Training Camp," said Tokikake after regaining his breath. He conscientiously stubbed out his cigar, gazing at the deeply engraved words on the monument as he spoke slowly:
"Teacher Zephyr has already submitted a proposal to Headquarters. After our class graduates, the Marine Academy will be officially established, with expanded enrollment to better cultivate mid-level officers for the Marines."
Darren also stubbed out his cigar.
Though he wasn't exactly someone who loved following rules, there were some things that went beyond mere regulations.
"A good idea," he commented.
During his days recuperating at the Marine Hospital, Darren hadn't spent all his time playing little games with Doctor Maria. He hadn't forgotten his real objectives.
Through conversations with the doctors and nurses, he had quietly gathered information about Headquarters' current situation. Coupled with the intelligence and materials he’d collected back in the North Blue, he now had a rough grasp of the Marine military and political hierarchy.
Unlike the timeline of the original story, at the end of the Sea Circle Calendar year 1492, the so-called "Golden Generation" of Marine Headquarters had yet to fully emerge.
Garp, in order to retain the freedom to chase after Gol D. Roger across the seas, had repeatedly refused promotions to Admiral.
Zephyr, disheartened by the loss of his wife and child, had stepped down from active duty, dedicating himself fully to educating the next generation of Marines.
Sakazuki, Dragon, and Borsalino were all in their twenties or early thirties, still rapidly growing in strength but not yet among the true top combatants of the seas.
Meanwhile, the future "pillars" of Marine Headquarters — elite Vice Admirals like Yamakaji — were either still training, struggling at the lower ranks, or hadn't even joined the Marines yet.
It could be said that this period was one of the most severe gaps in Marine combat strength. Other than Garp and Tsuru, the five current Vice Admirals at Headquarters had mostly risen through accumulated merits and seniority — few had the true strength to stand on their own.
As the Marine Instructor-in-Chief, Zephyr had clearly realized these underlying issues within Headquarters. Thus, he proposed the creation of the Marine Academy and an expansion of recruitment.
And Darren, who knew the plot all too well, understood that Zephyr’s decision was nothing short of spot-on.
It was precisely because of this decision that Zephyr went on to cultivate the most brilliant "Golden Generation" in Marine history, ushering in a glorious era for the Marines and cementing their dominance over the seas.
Of course, ironically, it would also be this very Golden Generation that would one day dig Zephyr’s grave.
There was no denying — life was often full of cruel ironies.
"Arara, I've been waiting a long time... and finally, the moment’s arrived," a lazy voice suddenly drifted from behind the monument.
Tokikake's expression shifted slightly. His gaze sharpened as he stared at the tall figure slowly stepping out from behind the stone.
This close... and he hadn't noticed someone hiding there at all!?
"Who are you?" he blurted out instinctively, glancing toward Darren — only to find that Darren’s eyes remained calm and unchanged, clearly having spotted this newcomer long beforehand.
The young man had messy black curls, wore a loosely fitted white shirt, and carried a lazy, almost drowsy air about him.
"Excuse me, sir," the young man asked casually, "are you Rogers Darren from the North Blue? The one who fought alongside Vice Admiral Garp and crossed swords with the legendary pirate, Gol D. Roger — the so-called 'King of the North Blue'?"
His eyes barely lingered on the wary Tokikake before locking onto Darren with undisguised excitement.
Darren gave a faint smile and replied:
"That's what they say, and yes, my name is Rogers Darren."
The instant the words left his mouth, the young man's languidness evaporated. Excitement and admiration lit up his face in an instant.
"Hahaha! I knew it was you!"
"The one who slew the pirate Byrnndi World, who clashed head-on with Gol D. Roger... Darren, you're amazing!"
He strode forward enthusiastically, eyes ablaze with admiration — like a fan meeting his idol.
"Ah, right, I almost forgot to introduce myself!" he said hurriedly. "My name's Kuzan, from the South Blue. I'm about to join the third class of the Elite Officer Training Camp. My short-term goal is to graduate as the top recruit! And as for my long-term dream—"
He clenched his fist, swinging it boldly through the air with pride.
"My dream is to become a Marine Admiral — a hero like Vice Admiral Garp!"
His words rang out loud and clear, brimming with youthful confidence.
The air suddenly grew very quiet.
Caw, caw, caw...
A few crows flapped by overhead.
Tokikake's mouth twitched violently.
This guy... is he some kind of idiot!?
He couldn't help but roast him internally.
Even Darren, watching this bundle of raw energy in front of him, found himself massaging his temples, dark lines appearing faintly above his head.
Of course, he recognized this "uninvited guest" at a glance.
The future Admiral — the man who would one day embody "Lazy Justice" — Kuzan.
Although Darren had known from the start that Kuzan at this stage still followed "Burning Justice," and that they would be classmates in the training camp, he hadn't expected that meeting him in person would reveal just how fervent Kuzan truly was at this point in time.
"Nice to meet you, Kuzan," Darren said blandly.
"Yeah! Nice to meet you too! I'm Tokikake, by the way — a bit of a genius around Headquarters," Tokikake quickly introduced himself, recognizing Kuzan now. As a future peer, he took the initiative, stepping forward and extending a hand.
"You must've heard of me, right? I’m also someone who fought Byrnndi World and Gol D. Roger and lived to tell the tale— Uh?"
His smile froze mid-sentence.
Kuzan, completely ignoring Tokikake, walked right past him and threw an arm enthusiastically around Darren's neck, grinning with bright-eyed excitement.
"So, Darren, is it true? I heard you made Roger eat a huge loss?"
Darren's eye twitched slightly. He wasn't used to being treated so warmly.
He calmly slipped out from Kuzan’s enthusiastic grip and answered nonchalantly:
"Something like that."
Meanwhile, Tokikake awkwardly retracted his still-outstretched hand, muttering sourly under his breath:
"...All he did was yank Roger’s pants down, that’s all."
But to his amazement, Kuzan’s eyes immediately lit up like stars upon hearing this.
"Really!? You actually pulled down Roger’s pants!? That’s..."
"That’s awesome!!"
Tokikake: …
Darren: …
---
To be continued...
Chapter 130: Chapter 32: A Rival for Life
Summary:
"True rivals ignite each other’s flames — not with hatred, but with unyielding spirit."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Passing through the gates of the Elite Officer Training Camp, Darren suddenly found himself saddled with an unexpected shadow.
Kuzan, looking every bit like an overexcited fanboy, trailed Darren closely, his eyes sparkling with pure admiration and wonder.
"I heard during the campaign against the World Pirates, you faced the legendary pirate Byrnndi World all by yourself, right?"
"And, and... I heard you even assembled an unbeatable fleet in the North Blue!"
"That's just so incredible..."
Faced with the enthusiastic Kuzan, Darren felt a growing headache and could only respond with occasional, vague answers.
"—I’ve decided!!"
Suddenly, Kuzan rushed forward, blocking Darren’s path.
Raising his hand high, chest puffed out with pride, he pointed directly at Darren. His eyes blazed like burning coals, and a wide, determined grin spread across his thick lips as he clenched his fist.
"Darren! From this day forth, you are officially... my lifelong rival!!"
"Prepare yourself to face my burning spirit and justice!!"
Darren: …
Tokikake: …
The corners of Darren’s mouth twitched uncontrollably.
Looking at the hot-blooded Kuzan in front of him, Darren had a sinking feeling that his days in the training camp would be far from peaceful.
---
The Elite Officer Training Camp, still not yet expanded into a full-fledged Marine Academy, was relatively small. Each year's intake was limited to just a few handpicked officer cadets, and the grounds themselves were compact.
Darren, Kuzan, and Tokikake quickly located the training grounds.
It was noon. The sun scorched the skies overhead, sand whipped wildly across the open field, and even the salty sea breeze couldn’t dispel the suffocating heat.
Several Marine officers had already gathered — tall, short, thick, lean — each attending to their own preparations: polishing swords, flexing muscles, sitting silently in the shade of towering walls, or smoking quietly.
The arrival of Darren’s group quickly caught their attention, sparking a wave of whispered discussions.
"That's him, right?"
"Rogers Darren..."
"The 'King of the North Blue'... the man who took down Byrnndi World..."
"He certainly has an imposing presence..."
The Marines stared intently at the tall figure leading the group, each harboring their own thoughts and speculations.
"Who's with him? You know them, Dalmatian?"
One of the cadets, spotting a young man with spotted dog-like markings on his skin, asked quietly.
Dalmatian answered calmly:
"The guy with the brown cap is Tokikake. He’s from Headquarters — very talented. As for the one yawning with messy black hair... no idea."
"You know him, Yamakaji?"
The stocky, buzz-cut youth chewing on a lit cigar grinned and said:
"His name’s Kuzan. Like me, he’s from the South Blue. A real monster."
Despite his rugged face, Yamakaji’s smile radiated warmth and reassurance.
"Ridiculously strong — Headquarters specially selected him to enter the camp."
"A monster, huh?"
Nearby, a gloomy man polishing his sword looked up.
His skin had a dull, waxy sheen; his eyes radiated a chilling bloodlust. His long reddish-brown hair sprawled wildly, almost like spider legs.
"Onigumo, take it easy," teased another Marine with a military cap and a prominent cross-shaped scar on his cheek, his stern gaze masking a playful smirk.
"This isn't the lazy West Blue."
"Better a lazy West Blue than your 'weakest East Blue,' Doberman," Onigumo retorted coldly.
Doberman snorted:
"If you're still bitter about yesterday's sparring match, we can always go another round."
Onigumo sneered:
"Save it. I have no interest in weaklings."
As he spoke, his predatory gaze slid off Kuzan and locked firmly onto Darren.
---
While the other cadets sized up Darren's group, Darren casually observed the ones present.
Even though they appeared at least twenty years younger than their future selves, their defining features were already recognizable.
The man with spotted skin was Dalmatian, future Marine Vice Admiral, Zoan-type Dog-Dog Fruit: Dalmatian Form user, famed for severely wounding Sun God’s forces during the Summit War.
The buzz-cut, cigar-chomping youth with a hearty smile was Yamakaji, future elite Vice Admiral, known for his powerful yet gentle presence. He later helped protect Chief Staff Officer Tsuru and participated in two Buster Call operations.
The red-brown-haired man with the spider-like wildness was Onigumo (Ghost Spider), a ruthless future Vice Admiral infamous for his brutal, hawkish methods — even at the cost of his own men.
The scar-faced, sharp-eyed man was Doberman, another future Vice Admiral, known for his iron-fisted discipline and refusal to back down even against a Yonko.
Other cadets were harder to identify.
After all, the original series didn’t delve deeply into many Marine officers’ backgrounds.
But one thing was clear: anyone who passed Headquarters' strict selection to enter this camp would inevitably become the backbone of the future Marines.
Unlike the mass recruitments of later generations, the early Elite Officer Training Camps recruited only the best of the best — a true "cradle of generals."
---
"Hey, hey, Darren, Kuzan... is it just me, or are they all staring at us a little too intensely?" Tokikake muttered nervously, feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass.
"So full of fighting spirit... it’s getting me fired up!!"
Kuzan adjusted his sunglasses and grinned, radiating excitement.
Tokikake rolled his eyes and ignored the hot-blooded youth, turning instead to Darren.
Darren simply waved a hand and said:
"Tokikake, move two steps to the side."
"Huh? Uh, okay," Tokikake said, obeying. "Like this?"
"Two more steps."
"Alright..."
"Now, do you still feel uncomfortable?"
Tokikake blinked in surprise:
"Now that you mention it... no! It's fine!"
"Simple," Darren said coolly.
"They’re only looking at me and Kuzan. Not you."
Tokikake: …
---
"Hahaha! Little brats, looks like you're all here!"
A loud, hearty voice boomed across the training ground.
Everyone immediately straightened up, fixing their caps, sheathing their swords, and turning toward the source of the voice with respectful attention.
Through the swirling sand, a massive figure marched forward with heavy, powerful steps.
Short, spiky purple hair. Bronze skin. Muscles so thick they strained his uniform. Black sunglasses covered his eyes, and a golden-fringed admiral’s cloak snapped in the wind behind him.
A heavy, overwhelming presence swept over the cadets.
It was the former Marine Admiral, known by his codename:
> "Black Arm" Zephyr.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Isn't it a little strange to imagine Kuzan — who later becomes the embodiment of lazy coolness — acting like a burning, energetic "Green Beast" like Might Guy?
---
Hey everyone, I wanted to get your opinion on something.
In the official fandom, the larger arc is called the Summit War Saga,
but the specific war itself is usually referred to as the Paramount War.
That’s why I’ve been a bit torn on which name to use in the translation.
Personally, I actually prefer Summit War — it just sounds more natural and resonant in my native language.
But I want to know what you think. Which term should I go with moving forward?
Paramount War (official English name)
Summit War (direct translation from Japanese)
> Your vote will help me decide what to use consistently!
Chapter 131: Chapter 33: The First Five Seats
Summary:
"Strength is only the beginning; it is pride and spirit that decide who stands at the summit."
Chapter Text
As Zephyr entered the training field, the assembled Marine cadets instinctively formed a simple, orderly phalanx.
Darren noticed that Gion quietly took up her place behind him, standing silently in line.
He smiled faintly to himself.
Very soon, Zephyr walked to the front of the formation.
Faced with the man whose presence was as solid and overwhelming as a mountain, all the cadets straightened their backs and saluted sharply, their voices ringing out in unison:
"Teacher Zephyr!!"
No matter how brilliant or unruly they had been before coming to Headquarters —
in the presence of this legendary Marine, the man who had once been an Admiral and had trained countless "monsters" —
everyone saluted with the deepest, sincerest respect.
"Very good! You’re all full of spirit and vigor!!"
Zephyr surveyed the proud young faces and the bright, burning eyes before him, and a satisfied smile stretched across his lips.
Every time he saw young people full of life and hope, striving forward on the path of justice under his guidance, he felt a pride and joy that words could not describe.
This was the very reason he chose to stay and teach, even after his heart had been shattered by disillusionment with the Marines.
Somewhere deep inside, Zephyr knew:
training the next generation, passing on the torch of justice, was the only thing that could slightly ease the sorrow and wounds within his heart.
Adjusting his sunglasses, Zephyr spoke, his voice low and powerful, echoing across the wide training ground:
"Before the camp officially begins, I would like to offer my congratulations."
His words rang clearly into the mind of every cadet.
"—Congratulations on officially joining the Marine Headquarters Elite Officer Training Camp."
A deep, heartfelt smile curved his lips, and many of the cadets couldn't help but smile along.
"You have all come from across the seas —
some from the peaceful East Blue, some from the prosperous West Blue, some from the chaotic North Blue..."
"Before arriving here, many of you held different statuses.
Some commanded forces over entire seas; some were ordinary Marines."
"You have traveled a long and difficult road to reach this place. I know it wasn't easy."
"You should feel proud of yourselves."
At these words, the cadets unconsciously straightened their backs even more.
Darren noticed Kuzan’s eyes sparkling with excitement, his clenched fists trembling slightly with emotion.
"But—!"
Suddenly, Zephyr’s tone shifted, turning sharp and stern.
"From this moment on, everything from your past is over!"
"Forget your previous status, your honors, your achievements.
In this training camp — you are nothing."
"From now on, you will rebuild your lives from scratch."
"You will spend the best and the worst year of your life here."
"You will be pushed beyond your limits — physically, mentally, and spiritually..."
---
Meanwhile, atop a building overlooking the training field, three tall figures stood side by side.
Their wide Marine cloaks fluttered in the breeze behind them, marked with the insignia of Rear Admirals.
"It’s another new beginning, huh..."
Borsalino peered lazily at the scene below, hands tucked casually into his pockets, a carefree smile on his face.
"Thinking back... that was a beautiful time," Dragon said, his eyes reflecting a rare trace of nostalgia.
Then he smiled faintly and added:
"But this is already the third class, and Teacher Zephyr’s speech still hasn’t changed."
Borsalino shrugged:
"Wonder who'll end up as the top cadet this time?"
"The last class didn’t even manage to crown a true number one. What a shame..."
He glanced sideways at Sakazuki and Dragon with an unreadable smirk.
Sakazuki said nothing.
He simply gazed deeply at the cadets gathered below, then turned away without hesitation.
"Oh? Not staying to see how it turns out?"
Borsalino called after him, feigning surprise.
"I heard that kid, Kuzan, has monstrous potential... just like us back then."
"No need," Sakazuki replied coldly, his footsteps never faltering.
"'Monster,' huh? Who here isn’t called that?"
"He won't surpass my subordinate."
With that cold declaration, Sakazuki disappeared from sight.
"Geez, so heartless..."
Borsalino scratched his head helplessly, then turned to Dragon.
"What about you, Dragon? What do you think?"
Dragon pondered for a moment before answering:
"Kuzan... I’ve reviewed his file. He’s very promising."
"If not for Darren, he would easily outshine the rest of the class."
Borsalino chuckled:
"What a pity, huh?"
---
Back on the training field, Zephyr’s opening speech was drawing to a close.
"Open your eyes wide," Zephyr said, voice steady and commanding,
"and greet the rivals and comrades who will accompany you from today onward."
"No matter what successes or failures, glory or defeat, strength or weakness you carried in your past lives — none of it matters."
"From the moment you stand here, your starting line is reset."
"I will pour everything I have into you — holding nothing back."
"This stage belongs to you."
"And whether your ending is glorious or tragic... will be up to you."
Zephyr paused, then added:
"Before the camp officially begins, as tradition, I must ask one final question."
"Is there anyone who wishes to withdraw?"
"You can still leave now."
Lifting his head, Zephyr swept his gaze over every face in the field.
All fifteen cadets met his eyes with unwavering resolve.
No one who had fought so hard for one of these rare seats was about to give it up.
Seeing this, Zephyr smiled in satisfaction.
"Very well," he said, drawing a deep breath and declaring with a voice that echoed across the entire field:
> "The Marine Headquarters Elite Officer Training Camp, Third Class — officially begins!"
---
"And next," Zephyr continued with a hearty grin, "according to tradition, the new cadets will engage in randomized sparring matches."
"The results will determine the top five seats within the camp."
Tokikake raised his hand and asked curiously:
"Teacher Zephyr, is there a reward for making the top five?"
Zephyr shook his head:
"No. In the classroom and training grounds, every cadet is treated equally — no favoritism."
He grinned broadly and added, with a gleam of mischief:
"But being recognized among the top five... isn't that reward enough?"
The moment he spoke, a fierce, burning fighting spirit erupted in every cadet’s eyes.
Of course.
Being recognized among the top five was the ultimate reward.
They were all elites and geniuses, handpicked by Headquarters after fierce competition.
Each carried pride and ambition in their hearts — none would willingly fall behind.
For a Marine, there was no greater honor than proving one’s worth.
To rise above a crowd of the world's finest—
To seize a place among the top five—
Or even...
> To claim the title of Number One!
---
To be continued...
Chapter 132: Chapter 34: Drawing Lots and the First Battle
Summary:
"Honor is not given. It is seized — with strength, spirit, and unshakable will."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
First seat!!
Even though there was no tangible prize attached to the title, for the cadets standing here today, it was more precious than any reward.
After all, as trainees of the Elite Officer Training Camp, they already had one foot inside the gates of the future "Admiral-level" officers.
They would eventually become the backbone of Marine Headquarters.
What they lacked now was reputation — fame.
Just a glance at who had taken the top spots before was enough to show its value:
The First Class had two joint top cadets: Borsalino and Sakazuki, now both Rear Admirals of Headquarters — both monsters in their own right.
The Second Class had Monkey D. Dragon, the "Son of the Hero," now also a Rear Admiral.
If any of them could seize the title of "First Seat," their fame would be placed on par with these legends!
Even if they couldn't take the top, there was still second, third... even fifth place.
No one here wanted to be forgotten.
Everyone in this camp — handpicked talents and elites from every Marine branch across the world — were still in their early twenties, the prime age of pride and ambition.
No one was willing to stand beneath another.
Their hearts burned with unyielding spirit!
The cadets' eyes shifted, focusing sharply on Darren and Kuzan.
Their gazes carried clear, unhidden challenge.
---
"Alright, time to draw lots," Zephyr said, smiling faintly as he swept his gaze across the field.
From inside his uniform, he pulled out a handful of tightly rolled paper slips, opening his thick fingers to reveal them.
"There are fifteen of you."
"Among these slips are numbers from 1 to 7. Two cadets who draw the same number will face each other in battle."
"That means fourteen cadets will fight in the first round."
"One person will be lucky enough to get a bye and advance automatically."
No one raised any objections — after all, luck was just another part of strength.
It was the same on the battlefield, where stray bullets and cannon shells could strike without warning.
Who could argue with fate?
---
"Darren, I hope I get to fight you in the first round!"
Kuzan clenched his fists, his whole body radiating excitement.
Darren chuckled.
"Same here."
He was genuinely curious about Kuzan's strength.
Right now, Kuzan hadn't yet reached the monstrous level of power he would one day achieve as an Admiral.
This was still his rapid-growth phase.
Maybe it was one of the few times Darren could "bully" him.
---
Meanwhile, Tokikake stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, muttering under his breath in a voice only he could hear:
"Please don't let me draw Darren... please don't let me draw Darren..."
He hadn't forgotten the nightmare from the North Blue, when he and Gion were tortured half to death by this madman.
Others might not know, but Tokikake understood all too well:
When Darren fought seriously, he was like a savage beast.
Thinking about those brutal beatings, Tokikake shivered involuntarily.
He glanced at Kuzan, who was doing warm-up exercises with feverish enthusiasm.
Tokikake hesitated, then added:
"Please don't let me draw Darren or Kuzan... not Darren or Kuzan..."
If he drew either of them, it would be instant elimination.
Imagine the headlines:
> "Headquarters’ genius Tokikake loses in the first round!"
No. No way!!
---
Trembling slightly, Tokikake stepped forward.
After a long, nervous hesitation, he finally picked a slip from Zephyr's hand.
"Please not Darren, please not Kuzan, please not Darren, please not Kuzan..."
He chanted silently as he unrolled the paper.
Zephyr's mouth twitched slightly.
---
"I GOT THE BYE!!!"
Tokikake shouted, raising his slip triumphantly — it bore a bold number "8."
His face lit up with sheer joy, grinning from ear to ear.
Silence.
Every eye turned to Tokikake.
Tokikake: "..."
"Ahem, ahem..."
He coughed awkwardly, forcefully schooling his expression into one of solemn regret.
"Such a pity," he said, shaking his head, his voice dripping with false melancholy.
"I was hoping to fight top-tier opponents like Darren or Kuzan right away...
Looks like I'll just have to wait until the next round."
He turned to the other cadets, his cloak fluttering dramatically behind him, his gaze lofty and proud:
"Good luck, everyone.
I’ll be waiting for you in the next round."
The crowd: "..."
Zephyr: "..."
Gion silently pressed a hand to her forehead.
Darren’s mouth twitched.
---
"Commander Tokikake is..."
Kuzan walked up beside Darren, staring wide-eyed at Tokikake’s overly dramatic posture.
"...incredible!!"
Kuzan's eyes gleamed with pure admiration.
Darren, Gion, and Zephyr: "..."
---
Very quickly, the draw results were finalized:
Tokikake had drawn the bye and advanced automatically.
Kuzan drew number 1 — his opponent was Doberman, a Captain and the former Supreme Commander of the East Blue Marines.
Gion drew number 2 — her opponent was Mozambia, a Marine officer from the West Blue.
Darren vaguely recalled Mozambia — a poor soul who, in the future, would be manipulated by Donquixote Doflamingo during a Shichibukai meeting and forced to attack his own allies.
Even among Vice Admirals, Mozambia ranked low in strength.
Suppressing his thoughts, Darren quietly unrolled his own slip.
The number on it was... "5."
---
"Number 5, huh?
Looks like your opponent is me, Commodore Darren."
A deep voice sounded from behind him.
Turning around, Darren found himself facing a tall, muscular youth with a Marine cloak, a sheathed saber at his waist, and spotted markings across his body.
Dalmatian — a Headquarters Marine, originally from the Grand Line, and destined to become a powerful Vice Admiral.
---
"I’ve heard your name for a long time," Dalmatian said steadily.
"The man who slew the 'World Destroyer' Byrnndi World, a monster among monsters...
I want to know how far I still have to go to reach your level."
His dark eyes began to shift —
his pupils twisting and turning into yellow canine slits.
An animalistic, feral aura started to pour from his body.
---
Darren remained calm, smiling softly:
"I won't disappoint you, Commander Dalmatian."
---
"Alright!"
Zephyr raised his voice after confirming everyone had found their opponents.
"We'll now begin the matches in numerical order!"
"In your duels, you may use any weapons, Devil Fruit abilities, anything you have — there are no restrictions."
"I expect you all to fight with everything you've got!"
Zephyr waved his hand grandly:
"First match: Kuzan versus Doberman!"
"Step forward!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Thanks so much for reading this far!
If you spot anything that could be improved — translation errors, inconsistencies, or anything that feels off — feel free to let me know.
I’ll do my best to fix and improve it!
Chapter 133: Chapter 35: The Power of a Monster
Summary:
"Speed alone can never defeat a monster — but to survive one blow, you must reach the edge of human limits."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With Zephyr’s commanding voice echoing across the field, the Marine cadets instinctively cleared a wide space in the center.
"Ahh... the first match is mine!! This really gets my blood pumping!!"
Grinning widely, Kuzan strode confidently into the clearing.
Zephyr narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched Kuzan, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
This kid always gave off a lazy, carefree vibe.
Yet whenever something caught his interest, he would suddenly reveal a passionate, burning side.
Two seemingly opposite temperaments, yet somehow they coexisted perfectly within him.
> "What a fiery spirit..."
Zephyr thought silently.
Having the students fight to determine the top five seats was a long-standing tradition.
On one hand, it stoked the fires of competition.
On the other, it allowed instructors to closely observe the students — to clearly identify their strengths and weaknesses and tailor their training accordingly.
---
At that moment, Doberman — the scarred Marine — stepped forward from the crowd, his expression grim and his gaze coldly locked onto Kuzan.
"My target was Darren," Doberman said, his voice sharp.
"I wanted to see for myself just how strong the so-called 'King of the North Blue' really is."
"His name has been tossed around so much lately, I'm sick of hearing it."
He paused, hand resting on the hilt of his saber.
"But since fate has placed you in front of me, Kuzan —
I'll just have to go through you first."
Before arriving at Headquarters, Doberman had been the Supreme Commander of the East Blue Marines.
As one of the Supreme Commanders of the Four Seas, he'd long heard of Darren's brilliant exploits.
And in truth, Darren’s remarkable achievements as the North Blue Commander had weighed heavily on him, gnawing at his pride.
Sure, Darren had taken down Byrnndi World and clashed head-on with Gol D. Roger — and survived.
That certainly proved his strength.
But Doberman wasn’t fully convinced.
After all, Sengoku the Admiral and Borsalino the Rear Admiral had participated in the battle against the World Pirates.
And when Darren fought Roger, Vice Admiral Garp and Rear Admiral Dragon had been there too.
Who knew what the real situation had been?
Only by facing Darren himself — win or lose — could he be truly convinced.
---
"Sorry, but Darren’s already my rival," Kuzan said with a regretful smile, scratching the back of his head.
"In that case," Doberman said coldly, "I won’t be holding back."
Slowly, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, lowering his center of gravity.
The air around him thickened, charged with murderous intent.
The wind howled, kicking up clouds of yellow sand.
Doberman’s white cloak billowed fiercely behind him.
He shifted into a perfect battōjutsu stance —
front foot forward, knees bent, body coiled like a taut bowstring ready to snap.
Kuzan narrowed his eyes slightly.
> "That’s a textbook-draw technique..."
Gion’s eyes lit up with interest.
"Trying to end it in a single strike?"
Darren mused, smiling calmly.
All the cadets fell silent, holding their breath.
No one wanted to miss a single detail.
After all, the winner would be their future rival.
Any scrap of information could make a difference.
The tension in the air thickened...
---
Suddenly—
The sand exploded upward.
Doberman lunged like a hunting leopard, moving so fast he seemed to blur from sight.
A brilliant arc of sword-light flared through the air, sharp and overwhelming.
In that instant, his aura shifted from heavy and imposing to razor-sharp and relentless.
The level of this slash...
it was already at the point where it could sever steel.
Schlik!
A gash opened across Kuzan’s shoulder — but not a single drop of blood flew out.
Instead, sparkling ice crystals danced in the air, glittering under the blazing sun before vanishing into the wind.
Doberman landed behind Kuzan.
He stared blankly at his frozen hand — and the frozen blade gripped within it — struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
The gathered cadets gaped in shock.
"A Logia-type...!?"
"Was that ice...?"
"How do you even fight against that...?"
"Wait, look carefully — Doberman’s hand and sword are frozen!"
Their eyes widened in horror.
Doberman’s battōjutsu had been executed flawlessly.
A draw-cut aimed at maximum speed and destruction.
For Kuzan to not only survive, but freeze Doberman’s blade and hand at the moment of impact—
There was only one explanation.
Kuzan had perfectly read the trajectory of Doberman’s slash,
and activated his Logia powers exactly at the moment of contact.
Such a feat required:
Exceptional dynamic vision,
Lightning-fast neural responses,
Superb body control,
And near-perfect mastery over his Devil Fruit ability.
---
"Monster..."
someone muttered.
"He’s really a monster..."
The cadets shivered involuntarily.
"So strong..."
Tokikake murmured in disbelief.
He imagined himself standing in Doberman’s place —
and his heart immediately sank.
He had no chance.
Even if Kuzan didn’t use his Devil Fruit powers, he’d still be outmatched.
---
"...That was one hell of a draw,"
Kuzan said softly, scratching his head.
The gash across his chest slowly froze over, restoring his body to its usual pristine state.
---
"Stop kidding around..."
Doberman growled, gritting his teeth.
Slowly, he straightened, turning to face Kuzan.
Ice crystals cracked and flaked off his sword and hand as he moved.
"Complete and utter domination...
It’s like fighting despair itself."
He sheathed his blade and shook his head, casting Kuzan a complicated look.
After a moment of heavy silence, Doberman bowed his head slightly:
"I concede...
Thank you for the lesson, Kuzan."
Kuzan gave him a wide, cheerful grin and a thumbs-up:
"Your sword technique is amazing too!"
Doberman blinked.
At first, he thought Kuzan was mocking him —
but when he met Kuzan’s sincere, burning gaze,
he realized the kid was being completely genuine.
Some words, when spoken by certain people, sounded sarcastic no matter what.
But from someone like the hot-blooded Kuzan...
they were simply pure.
Doberman pursed his lips, then gave a bitter smile.
"Losing to a monster isn’t something to be ashamed of," he said finally.
"But... I’ll catch up to you someday."
His eyes gleamed with new determination.
Kuzan grinned back:
"I’ll be waiting!!"
Doberman smiled wryly again.
This guy... it was impossible to hate him.
---
Watching the scene unfold, Zephyr nodded with satisfaction.
Then, he raised his voice:
"First match, winner: Kuzan!!"
"Second match, prepare!
Gion versus Mozambia — step forward!"
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author’s Note:
1. The previous chapter has been corrected. I got a bit muddled while writing — Sakazuki and Borsalino were indeed classmates, and the second class’s top graduate was Dragon. That’s why, in the previous volume, the footage of the second class’s graduation ceremony was missing.
2. About Kuzan’s Devil Fruit:
I checked and found no clear canon statement on when Kuzan obtained his power.
For the sake of smoother storytelling, I’m writing it as if he already has it.
Otherwise, the battles would be far too boring, and it doesn’t affect the overall plot.
Chapter 134: Chapter 36: He's Here, He's Here
Summary:
"Growth often happens when we aren't looking — and by the time we notice, we're already stronger than we thought."
Chapter Text
As soon as Zephyr gave the signal, Gion nodded firmly and stepped out from the crowd.
She was tall and poised, her long black hair tied up in a sleek high ponytail.
With her slim waist, long legs, and black military boots, she radiated a beauty both sharp and commanding.
In a heartbeat, every pair of eyes was on her.
---
"Hehehe... You see that? That’s my childhood friend!! Gion’s about to say yes and become my girlfriend!"
Tokikake grinned foolishly as he leaned toward Kuzan.
"Really? I don’t think so," Kuzan said sincerely, scratching his head.
"She seems pretty cold to you."
Tokikake’s smile froze on his face.
---
Compared to the striking Gion, her opponent — Mozambia — looked thoroughly ordinary.
Dark-skinned, short gray hair, a nasty scar on his left cheek — and an icy expression to match.
"Surrender," Mozambia said flatly, staring her down.
"I don’t cut women."
Gion gave no response.
Silently, she rested her hand on the hilt at her waist and slowly drew her blade.
The golden edge scraped against the sheath with a piercing screech.
Under the sunlight, the slender blade shimmered blindingly.
And in that moment — her entire aura shifted.
It grew colder, sharper. Merciless.
Mozambia’s face tightened.
Every nerve in his spine stood on end.
‘This presence...’
Gritting his teeth, he lunged — sword drawn, both hands gripping tight — slashing straight for her flawless face.
Wind whipped past her, scattering strands of black hair into the air.
But her eyes didn’t flicker.
In that instant, everything else disappeared.
Countless battle memories flashed through her mind —
then all collapsed into the image of a black-haired man.
Clang!
Her golden blade caught his saber mid-swing — just a single centimeter from her forehead.
It didn’t move another inch.
Mozambia’s pupils shrank.
His full-force slash… had been stopped that easily?
"So slow..."
The voice came cold and soft — like winter wind.
A silver flash followed.
Then another.
And another.
Each one burst into his vision, growing closer with terrifying speed.
"What!?"
His panicked shout barely escaped before a roaring wave of blade-light surged toward him — shaped like a crescent moon.
It swallowed him whole.
Mozambia’s massive body was launched like driftwood in a storm, tumbling across the training field before crashing into the ground dozens of meters away.
He struggled to rise, one knee pressed against the dirt, his face twisted in disbelief.
His saber — once steel-forged and polished — shattered into glittering fragments.
Only the hilt remained.
---
The entire field fell silent.
Dozens of cadets stood stunned, mouths agape, unable to believe what they had just seen.
Mozambia might not have been top-tier, but he wasn’t weak either — solidly middle of the pack.
And yet...
He’d been obliterated.
One-hit K.O.
If his opponent had been Kuzan, that might’ve made sense.
But it was Gion...
---
"Gion’s gotten way stronger... What happened to her in the North Blue...?"
Dalmatian murmured in disbelief.
He had worked with her before at Headquarters.
But what she showed now — was on a whole other level.
---
In the center of the field, Gion looked quietly at her sword.
The blade’s gleam reflected her faintly confused expression.
‘So I’ve gotten this strong... without even realizing it.’
She whispered in her heart.
In the North Blue, her one and only opponent had been Darren.
So when Mozambia attacked, her body had reflexively recalled the image of Darren charging toward her.
Compared to the hopelessness she felt facing Darren —
the overwhelming pressure that crushed her from every angle —
Mozambia’s attack had been… slow.
Sloppy.
Full of openings.
---
"That was weirdly easy..."
Tokikake muttered, rubbing his chin.
"But man, Mozambia’s attacks were super slow..."
Hearing this, Darren chuckled quietly.
He knew exactly why Gion and Tokikake had grown so fast.
Their training in the North Blue had been hell.
Sengoku had sent them to him for a reason —
and Darren hadn’t held back.
He’d pushed them through brutal duels, nonstop physical combat, relentless pressure.
And thanks to their natural talent, they’d grown at terrifying speed — even Darren had been surprised.
Since leaving the North Blue, they hadn’t had a real chance to go all out.
Their enemies had been legendary pirates like Byrnndi World and Roger — impossible to measure against.
That’s how this world worked.
Power tiers were rarely clear.
Most fights weren’t decided until they actually happened.
---
"Winner: Gion!"
Zephyr announced without hesitation.
Gion sheathed her blade, gave Mozambia a crisp salute, and walked calmly back into the crowd.
Mozambia clenched his jaw, then stood and returned the salute.
---
"Next match..."
The duels for numbers 3 and 4 ended shortly after.
The victors:
Yamakaji — Captain, Supreme Commander of the South Blue Marines
Comil — Commander, Grand Line Marine
Both matches had plenty of highlights, and Zephyr nodded in approval throughout.
Yamakaji’s swordplay was aggressive, heavy, and full of explosive strength.
Comil’s was solid, precise, and nearly flawless — a steady, unshakable rhythm.
---
"And now... the fifth match. Step forward."
Zephyr’s voice echoed through the crowd.
"Darren versus Dalmatian!"
The moment he spoke, the entire field stirred with energy.
Rogers Darren — The King of the North Blue, the Marine who took down Byrnndi World!
Everyone had heard his name.
Too many times to count.
And now, they’d finally see the truth for themselves.
---
"So... is he the real deal, or just hype?"
Onigumo said coldly.
"Anyone Vice Admiral Garp trusts is no weakling,"
Yamakaji said with a warm grin.
"We’ll see.
Too bad I got knocked out,"
Doberman added, cleaning his sword with a sigh.
---
Under the weight of dozens of gazes—
The man from the North Blue stepped forward, calmly removing his white Marine cloak.
He walked to the center of the field.
And in that moment, the crowd fell silent.
The atmosphere shifted.
Heavy. Dense.
An invisible pressure rolled out from Darren like a tide.
---
"He’s here, he’s here!!"
Kuzan’s eyes burned with passion.
"As expected from my chosen rival — so cool!!"
Tokikake, on the other hand, had ducked behind Kuzan, whispering nervously:
"He’s here... He’s really here...
This guy might tear the whole field apart..."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 135: Chapter 37: One Punch
Summary:
"True strength isn’t proven by reputation — it’s forged in battle, where every blow reveals what words cannot."
Chapter Text
"Impressive presence... That Darren kid…"
Zephyr stood at the edge of the field, arms folded across his chest, sunglasses reflecting the sun as he half-squinted at the black-haired Marine standing calmly in the center.
A faint, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Though he had already read Darren’s intelligence reports sent by Sengoku, paper was one thing — Zephyr preferred judging a man’s true strength with his own eyes.
Still...
If the records weren’t wrong—
Zephyr’s body subtly tensed.
He might need to be ready to intervene at any moment...
---
In the field, the hot wind stirred the yellow sand between them — Darren and Dalmatian stood ten meters apart, silently staring each other down.
"Darren, you sure you're ready? You just got out of the hospital today,"
Dalmatian asked in a low voice.
Darren smiled lightly.
"No problem.
Not like it’s going to cost me much effort anyway."
That utterly casual tone instantly lit a fire in Dalmatian’s heart.
"Then don’t blame me for going all out!!"
---
With a roar like a wild beast, Dalmatian’s body began to shift.
His frame swelled before everyone’s eyes — growing taller, broader.
Ragged muscle tore his uniform apart.
Dark bronze skin sprouted patches of spotted fur, while his fingers extended into sharp claws.
His legs warped grotesquely, tearing through his boots, reshaping into thick, canine hind limbs.
---
Zoan-type Devil Fruit — Inu Inu no Mi, Model: Dalmatian — Hybrid Form!!
---
A primal, savage aura burst forth from Dalmatian’s body.
"So that’s how it is…"
Darren murmured softly.
With Dalmatian's transformation into his hybrid form, Darren's innate magnetic field sense picked up a surge —
his life force had increased by more than thirty percent.
‘Zoan fruits really do massively boost the user’s physique and close-combat ability.
No wonder they’re so coveted among brawlers.’
Among the three Devil Fruit types — Logia, Zoan, and Paramecia —
only Zoans enhanced the body directly.
In some ways, they were the perfect match for martial artists.
---
Before Darren could finish thinking, Dalmatian moved.
With a deep crouch, the ground beneath his feet cracked and splintered —
then he launched forward like a black blur.
His speed was astonishing, leaving afterimages in the eyes of the spectators.
---
"So fast!"
"No wonder Zoan users are so fierce!"
"He looks like a real hunting beast!"
Cheers and gasps broke out around the field.
---
In an instant, Dalmatian closed the gap.
Razor claws slashed through the air, aiming directly for Darren’s chest.
Schlick!
But instead of the wet sound of tearing flesh —
there was a harsh screech of metal grinding.
Dalmatian’s pupils contracted into pinpricks.
His sharp claws — capable of ripping through solid stone —
had merely sparked against Darren’s skin, tearing open only his uniform.
Not even a scratch.
---
The spectators stared in stunned silence.
He had blocked the attack… with pure body toughness!?
Was his body made of iron!?
Even Zephyr’s eyes gleamed under his sunglasses.
His heart raced.
> 'It’s real.
The reports were true.'
Darren had actually forged a body of living steel!
---
"Your speed’s alright.
Your strength’s a little lacking though,"
Darren said casually, smiling as he stood still.
"This can’t be!!"
Dalmatian bared his sharp fangs, bloodshot rage filling his eyes.
With a growl, he unleashed a blinding flurry of strikes —
claws stabbing at Darren like a hailstorm of blades.
"Fang Assault!!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The blows hammered Darren’s body, tearing dozens of holes through his uniform —
but the flesh beneath remained unscathed.
---
"Damn it!! Your body!!"
Dalmatian howled in disbelief.
He suddenly leapt into the air, spinning, coiling his thick waist midair,
then lashed out a vicious whip-kick at Darren’s neck.
Boom!!
A gust of force blasted outward.
Darren’s head tilted slightly.
---
Dalmatian’s heart sank.
The spectators' eyes widened.
---
"You still don’t get it?"
Darren spoke calmly, turning his head back slowly to meet Dalmatian’s eyes.
"I didn’t kill Byrnndi World just because I had help…"
He gripped Dalmatian’s ankle with one hand.
"I have more than enough strength on my own."
---
Before Dalmatian could react, the world spun violently.
Darren hurled him through the air like a rag doll.
With terrifying force, Dalmatian’s body flew hundreds of meters —
smashing into the side of an abandoned fortress.
The wall exploded into rubble, dust billowing into the sky.
Dalmatian lay embedded in the broken stone, blood trickling from his mouth.
But even then —
his beast instincts screamed at him in terror.
That man was dangerous beyond reason.
---
"Now then,"
Darren said, voice calm as he tore off his shredded uniform top,
his stance lowering slightly like a knight about to bow.
And as he did—
The earth around him collapsed in a circle thirty meters wide,
a geyser of dust and rock exploding upward ten meters high.
The ground itself rumbled and shook.
The crowd stumbled, struggling to keep their footing.
---
The next moment—
A towering figure blasted through the dust clouds like a cannon shell.
In a blink, Darren appeared in front of Dalmatian.
His energy erupted like a maelstrom, overwhelming all.
---
A giant, gloved fist rose high.
Tokikake covered his eyes in horror.
Everyone froze, faces stiff with terror.
Kuzan’s eyes burned with feverish excitement.
Dalmatian’s pupils quaked violently —
his heartbeat stuttering under the crushing force descending on him.
A primal, indescribable fear seized him.
---
The wind roared around him.
And in Dalmatian’s view —
the entire world vanished.
Only one thing remained:
the approaching fist, growing larger and larger, faster and faster, like a falling star.
---
"Darren!!"
Zephyr’s voice exploded across the field.
---
BOOM!!
The punch missed by a hair’s breadth —
grazing past Dalmatian’s ear.
Behind him, the fortress wall shattered with a deep, heavy rumble.
---
Silence fell.
Dalmatian stood frozen, panting heavily.
The sunlight bathed them both.
Facing him—
Was Darren, smiling faintly —
his cold, wicked grin framed by the dust and light.
"From now on, Dalmatian...
Let’s get along."
Darren said casually, lowering his fist and turning away.
---
A second later—
Before the stunned eyes of every spectator—
BOOM!!!
A giant crater burst open in the center of the fortress.
The twenty-meter-tall abandoned building—
Collapsed into rubble.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 136: Chapter 38: The Top Eight
Summary:
"True strength doesn't only crush others—
It inspires them to rise higher."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rumble... Rumble...
In the deathly stillness of the training ground, the deafening roar of the collapsing fortress tore through the heavy air.
The cracked walls shattered completely, the entire structure disintegrating into rubble. Blackened steel rods twisted and snapped, crashing down amid an avalanche of stones and debris.
A surging wave of dust and shattered brick engulfed half of Dalmatian’s figure, whipping his cloak high into the air.
Frozen in place, Dalmatian stared at the towering silhouette of the Marine commodore. His expression was a tangle of disbelief, awe... and something deeper he couldn't name.
At some point, his entire back had been soaked in cold sweat.
Around him, the other Marines were no better. Mouths open, eyes wide, frozen stiff as statues.
The terror that had unfolded moments ago seemed almost unreal, lingering in the choking air.
No one moved.
No one dared to breathe.
It was as if time itself had stopped.
Until, finally—
"Monster..."
Doberman croaked hoarsely, swallowing painfully against a throat parched as if scorched by fire.
He recalled, with a sharp, shameful jolt, how he had so confidently boasted about wanting to challenge Darren earlier.
His face flushed with a burning heat.
Around him, other Marines exchanged pale, shaken glances. Bitter smiles tugged at their lips as the full weight of reality sank in.
"...Not even the same league."
"How are we supposed to train alongside a monster like that...?"
"Now I believe it... he really fought Byrnndi World."
"He's not human. No way..."
Murmurs died as quickly as they were born.
Tokikake shook his head and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He waved his hand vaguely in the air as if shooing away some unpleasant memory.
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it," he muttered.
"But don't expect him to act like a normal human being."
His voice carried a strange mixture of bitterness and familiarity, as if he'd survived something no one else could understand.
The others fell into a heavy, thoughtful silence.
Only Kuzan remained unshaken — or rather, utterly energized.
Eyes burning with excitement, he rushed up to Darren, practically vibrating with admiration.
"That strength just now—and your body—how did you even train like that, Darren?! That was so insanely cool!!"
Darren brushed the dust from his shoulders, offering a casual smile.
"Compared to your Devil Fruit powers, it's nothing much."
Kuzan clenched his fists tighter, fire practically spilling from his gaze.
"As expected of my lifelong rival! I can't wait to fight you!"
Darren chuckled softly, but said nothing more.
"Alright, alright—"
Zephyr stepped forward, laughter rumbling in his chest. He couldn't hide the pride lighting up his face.
"The winner of this match: Rogers Darren!"
The young Marines straightened instinctively, even as they continued to stare, half in awe, half in dread.
Exaggerated strength.
A body tougher than steel.
An explosive force that could bring fortresses crashing down.
Zephyr couldn't help but grin wider.
A monster among men.
A seedling with the potential to one day shake the very foundations of the world.
If this boy mastered Haki under his guidance...
He would become a storm clad in flesh and bone.
"Well done, Darren," Zephyr said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Your control over your power is excellent."
Darren bowed his head respectfully.
"Thank you, Zephyr-sensei."
Zephyr turned, his eyes falling on Dalmatian, who still stood stiff and stunned.
"And you, Dalmatian. Don't be discouraged."
His voice softened slightly.
"I saw your fight—you handled your Zoan abilities well. Your timing and judgment were good. With time and effort, you will become one of the pillars of the Marines."
Dalmatian's shoulders jerked.
Then he stood straighter, saluting sharply with a new glint of determination in his eyes.
"Yes, Zephyr-sensei! I will give it my all!"
"And me, sensei? What about me?" Tokikake called, grinning shamelessly.
Zephyr gave him a sidelong look.
"You did well too..."
He smirked.
"Your luck was exceptional."
Tokikake: "..."
The crowd chuckled.
The heavy tension began to lift, if only a little.
"Next match!" Zephyr barked, wasting no time.
Two more Marines stepped forward.
But after what they had just witnessed, the rest of the matches seemed almost meaningless.
'Only monsters can fight monsters,'
The thought echoed silently through every mind.
Within minutes, the remaining duels ended.
Zephyr gathered everyone together once more, his voice booming across the training ground:
"The Top Eight—step forward!"
---
The Top Eight:
Commander Kuzan – South Blue
Commander Gion – Marine Headquarters
Captain Yamakaji – South Blue
Commander Comil – Grand Line
Commodore Darren – North Blue
Captain Onigumo – West Blue
Captain Strawberry – Grand Line
Commander Tokikake – Marine Headquarters
---
One after another, the eight chosen Marines stepped forward, their backs straight, their eyes fierce and proud.
The noon sun bathed them in a golden haze, painting their determined faces with a soft brilliance.
'Like a sky full of stars...'
Darren thought, a rare feeling of warmth stirring in his chest.
Aside from himself, a traveler from another world,
The seven standing here would one day rise to greatness.
Each one destined to become pillars of Marine Headquarters.
Admirals.
Legends.
Even Strawberry — the hulking, skull-headed dual swordsman — would one day hunt down Sun Pirates alongside Admiral Kizaru.
The future of the Marines stood here, side by side.
And it was dazzling.
Zephyr's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"You've all seen a glimpse of each other's strength," he said, smiling broadly.
"Now—let's move to the second round."
He produced a fresh set of slips.
The Top Eight exchanged determined glances, then stepped forward to draw lots.
"Not Kuzan or Darren, please not Kuzan or Darren..." Tokikake muttered feverishly under his breath.
"I hope I get Darren!" Kuzan grinned with unrestrained glee.
The others stared at them, exasperated.
Seriously?
---
Soon, the matchups were announced:
Tokikake vs. Strawberry
Gion vs. Comil
Kuzan vs. Onigumo
Darren vs. Yamakaji
---
Darren tucked away his "4" slip and looked up.
Standing opposite him was Yamakaji, his rugged, easygoing face split by a sheepish grin.
"Looks like I got unlucky," Yamakaji chuckled, scratching his short hair.
He fished out a rough-looking cigar from his pocket, handing it to Darren.
"Locally grown in South Blue. Not fancy, but it's got punch. Give it a try?"
Darren glanced down at the cigar — cheap, unmarked — and at the thick, scarred hand offering it.
He smiled.
"Sure."
He accepted the cigar without hesitation.
---
Fourth Match:
Darren vs. Yamakaji
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Hey guys — don't you think Kuzan right now feels a bit like a "Might Guy" from the Marines?
Maybe we should give him a nickname: The Blue Beast of the Marines!
Haha, just a thought.
Chapter 137: Chapter 39: Tokikake the Show-Off
Summary:
“Confidence earned through hardship is the loudest kind.”
Chapter Text
After a brief exchange, Darren stepped back a few paces, giving the two fighters plenty of space for the upcoming match. He withdrew his gaze from Yamakaji and glanced down at the cigar in his hand.
It was a plain cigar, completely unbranded—clearly a low-quality product from some local plantation.
He hadn't smoked something this rough in a long time.
By all rights, Yamakaji, being the Supreme commander of the South Blue Marines, could have lived in luxury. Maybe not as skilled at raking in favors as Darren himself, but still.
Yet he didn’t.
His boots were polished to a shine, but the creases revealed years of wear. His uniform was spotless but fading from too many washes.
And when Darren recalled the rumors—
The four seas each had a Marine Supreme Commander. East Blue was the weakest but relatively stable. West Blue, the richest. North Blue, Darren's turf, the most chaotic. And South Blue—that was Yamakaji's realm.
Unlike the others, Yamakaji was known for being strong and kind. He cared for his subordinates, even giving away portions of his own salary to support wounded or fallen comrades. To many young Marines, he was a role model.
"A real Marine, huh..."
Darren smiled, lit the cheap cigar, and took a long drag. It was harsh—biting, smoky, and raw, like fire in his lungs. But it hit deep, like a shot of old rum. He narrowed his eyes with a satisfied sigh.
---
"First match: Tokikake versus Strawberry!"
Zephyr's voice rang out across the training ground.
Lighting his own cigar, Zephyr looked unusually pleased.
Strawberry stepped forward with a cold expression. Without a word, he placed both hands on the hilts at his waist and drew two blades simultaneously—a rare dual-sword stance. One forward, one reverse grip. His posture was sharp, dangerous, and calm.
"Tokikake, looks like your luck's run out."
His voice carried a note of arrogance.
"Come on. Let’s see what you learned in the North Blue."
That single sentence made everyone watching suddenly remember something.
In the first round, Tokikake had drawn a bye. They hadn’t seen him fight. They had no idea how strong he really was.
But Gion, who had also trained in the North Blue, had shown remarkable power. So now all eyes turned toward Tokikake with growing curiosity.
And then... they all winced.
Because Tokikake had, for some reason, pulled out a brown hat, dramatically tilted the brim to shadow his face, and struck a brooding pose. His cloak whipped in the sand-laden wind.
He let out a dramatic sigh.
"I just wanted to live like a normal person among you all... but all I got was rejection and scorn."
He dropped his voice, trying to sound sorrowful and cool.
"Now it seems I have no choice but to reveal the true power... of this genius."
Bang!
A bullet kicked up dirt at his feet. Tokikake flinched violently and leapt up with a yelp. His hat flew off.
Zephyr stood there, pistol still smoking. "Get on with it. You're wasting my time."
"Y-Yes, sir!!"
Tokikake scampered onto the field.
Everyone: "..."
Kuzan blinked.
Gion turned away and covered her face.
Darren sighed and rubbed his temples.
---
Now facing Strawberry, Tokikake took a deep breath, sinking into a low stance. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Strawberry was a seasoned Marine captain—a rank earned through real combat.
Unlike himself, who’d grown up in Marineford, Strawberry had experience from the Grand Line.
Tokikake had improved a lot, sure, but he hadn’t really measured himself in battle. And against a foe like Strawberry, he couldn’t afford to underestimate anything.
'Let’s hope Darren's hellish training paid off...'
His thought had barely ended when Strawberry struck.
With a sharp burst of sound, the dual-wielding captain flew forward. At five meters, he leapt high, crossing both blades in a deadly downward arc.
The world slowed.
Tokikake hesitated.
'He’s... so slow?'
He could clearly see the path of the blades.
'No... it's not him. It's me. I’ve gotten faster!'
He sidestepped instinctively.
CLANG!
SSSHHH!
The blades tore through the earth, slicing a ten-meter trench.
Gasps erupted from the onlookers.
"He dodged it?!"
"So easily!"
"He read the attack like a book!"
Zephyr’s eyes lit up with interest.
Strawberry snarled and charged again, blades blurring into a storm of slashes.
But Tokikake’s dodges, though clumsy-looking, were precise. He stumbled, weaved, ducked—and every strike just barely missed.
His movements grew smoother.
Soon he was grinning, pulling faces and mocking his attacker mid-fight.
"Hahaha! See that? Witness the genius of Tokikake!"
Sliding beneath a sweeping slash, he arched backward with ease.
'Compared to Darren’s insane brutality, this guy fights like a toddler!'
Everyone watched, stunned.
Tokikake, meanwhile, basked in it. All that torment in the North Blue—suddenly, it felt worth it.
"Come on, come on, try and hit me!"
He taunted again, pulling a ridiculous face.
Strawberry, normally stoic, snapped. Roaring with rage, he charged.
Tokikake stepped aside with casual ease.
As they passed, he stuck out one foot.
Thud!
Strawberry tripped, face-first into the dirt.
"HAHAHA! Remember this name: the genius Tokikake!"
He threw his arms wide, basking in imagined glory.
"You all better improve. I’m starting to get bored. Try harder to impress me, would you?"
Everyone: "..."
"Can we challenge him directly?" Doberman growled.
"I want to punch him," Onigumo muttered, gripping his sword.
"Count me in," Dalmatian added.
"Same here," said Mozambia.
Even Gion quietly nodded.
Zephyr rubbed his forehead.
"Winner: Tokikake."
Tokikake swaggered off, chin high, steps exaggerated.
Then he tripped on a small pothole.
WHAM!
Face down, sandals flying, legs in the air.
Everyone froze.
Expression: ≥???≤
Yes... the weather had just improved.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 138: Chapter 40: I'll Show You... Despair
Summary:
“To stand tall in the face of certain defeat—that is when a man begins to cast the shadow of a hero.”
Chapter Text
Under the bitter, resentful glares of the crowd, Tokikake rubbed his bruised face and shuffled off the field in his wooden sandals.
“Match Two: Gion versus Comil!”
As Zephyr’s booming voice echoed across the training field, Gion and Comil leapt into the arena in perfect sync, their movements precise and powerful.
They locked eyes briefly—then, without hesitation, both drew their blades and charged.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew in rapid bursts as their swords collided again and again.
But it didn’t take long for the difference in skill to become obvious. Gion was clearly superior—not just in swordsmanship, but in overall combat technique.
After witnessing Tokikake’s overwhelming defeat just moments earlier, the cadets couldn’t help but exchange glances. Almost in unison, their eyes drifted toward the man watching the fight from the sidelines, calmly smoking a cigar with a faint, amused smile.
It was obvious to everyone now.
The explosive improvement of both Gion and Tokikake… was thanks to him—Rogers Darren, the so-called King of the North Blue.
Barely three minutes into the duel, it was over.
With Comil retreating in disarray, Gion found an opening. Her blade flashed, and his military saber was sent flying.
As he stumbled back, a gleaming golden katana stopped inches from his throat.
He froze.
The razor-sharp aura pouring off the blade gave him goosebumps.
“I yield,” he said with a resigned smile.
Gion sheathed her sword and bowed slightly.
“Thank you for the match.”
“Winner: Gion!”
Zephyr’s voice rang out. No one looked surprised.
“Next up—Match Three: Kuzan versus Onigumo!”
At the announcement, Kuzan immediately perked up, eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Finally! My turn!!”
“...I forfeit.”
The dry, hoarse voice cut through the air like a knife, wiping the grin clean off Kuzan’s face. His expression collapsed in an instant.
Everyone turned.
It was Onigumo—cold-eyed, stern-faced—meeting their gazes without flinching.
“I lack the means to pose a threat to Kuzan,” he stated flatly.
“Until I’ve mastered Armament Haki, there’s no way to counter a Logia-type Devil Fruit user. They're invincible.”
The watching Marines exchanged thoughtful glances. As much as it stung, they couldn’t help but agree.
Zephyr frowned slightly and turned toward Onigumo.
“You’re certain about this?” he asked gravely. “Surrendering without a fight isn’t a habit the Marines should develop.”
Onigumo’s voice remained calm.
“I understand your point, Instructor Zephyr.”
“If I had even a one percent chance of victory, I’d take it.”
“But I don’t.”
His gaze remained steady—utterly unwavering.
“A battle with a predetermined outcome… is meaningless.”
“...I see. Understood.”
Zephyr paused, then smiled faintly.
“I’m glad to see you stand by your convictions.”
He didn’t press further.
A teacher’s role isn’t to forcibly rewrite a student’s choices. It’s to guide them—gently—toward the right path.
Those who insist “this is for your own good” and try to override a student's will... Zephyr disliked that kind of teaching.
Besides—
He knew Onigumo well. His record and personality were no mystery.
This was a Marine who’d crushed pirates in the West Blue with brutal efficiency. No one could accuse him of cowardice.
His version of justice was simply... more pragmatic. More grounded in reality.
“Winner: Kuzan!”
Cheers erupted from the cadets—but Kuzan himself looked utterly deflated.
He slumped to the ground, clutching his head like a man on the edge.
“What a waste...!”
Zephyr just chuckled and shook his head. Then, he announced the final matchup of the round.
“The last match. The one that decides our fourth semifinalist—Darren versus Yamakaji!”
A ripple ran through the crowd as all eyes turned to Darren and Yamakaji.
The cigar was now down to the butt.
Darren snuffed it out and slowly stood.
His towering frame rose like a mountain from the earth, casting a vast shadow beneath the noon sun.
A suffocating pressure spread across the field—like a weight pressing down on everyone’s chest.
The Marines fell silent. Their expressions tightened as they turned toward Yamakaji.
They all knew.
Just like Onigumo versus Kuzan, this match’s outcome was already set in stone.
Kuzan’s strength was visible—measurable. Even if it was daunting, it was still comprehensible.
But Darren?
That was different.
The ruins of the demolished fortress still lay scattered across the training grounds, like the corpse of some war-torn beast. A monument to Darren’s raw destruction.
The violence, the ferocity, the dominance he’d displayed earlier—it was monstrous. Traumatizing.
And worst of all?
He hadn’t even used his Devil Fruit yet.
If Kuzan was an unscalable wall, then Darren was a mountain piercing the heavens. You couldn’t even see the summit.
The training grounds fell silent.
Everyone stared at Yamakaji, awaiting his decision.
And honestly? If he chose to surrender like Onigumo, no one would fault him.
Going up against Darren’s brutal, no-holds-barred fighting style could mean serious injury.
And that might jeopardize his chance at fifth place—still up for grabs.
Strategically, stepping down made perfect sense.
After all, Yamakaji and Onigumo were the top contenders for that final ranking slot.
Better to save strength and live to fight another day.
Yamakaji remained seated.
One second...
Two seconds...
Three seconds...
Then, under the weight of everyone’s gaze, he slowly lit a cigar—and took a deep pull.
And then...
He gripped his saber and, under a pressure like crashing mountains—
He stood.
The crowd collectively blinked in surprise.
And yet, somehow, the moment he stood tall... everyone breathed a little easier.
Their hands clenched into fists.
A flicker of fire ignited in their hearts.
“Sorry to keep you waiting…”
Yamakaji looked up at Darren, smiling with his usual calm, eyes narrowed in a soft expression.
Scratching his buzz-cut awkwardly, he said:
“Facing a monster like you... takes a bit of mental preparation, you know?”
Darren’s tone was cool and even.
“So... are you ready now?”
“Yeah,” Yamakaji nodded. His smile was honest. Pure.
“I really want that fifth seat. It’s a huge honor.”
“If I get it... I can go home and make the old man proud. He always wanted me to become a ‘hero’ like Vice Admiral Garp.”
“But the more I thought about it...”
“To become a hero—you can’t back down here, right?”
“Even if I know I don’t stand a chance...”
Darren studied the tanned young man before him, pausing for a long moment.
Then he said quietly:
“Yes. Being a hero is a losing game...”
“You’ll spend your whole life doing stupid things that hurt.”
Yamakaji’s grin widened.
“Exactly why I have to fight you. And I hope you go all out.”
He raised his blade, both hands steady, body brimming with resolve.
“Because one day... I’ll be facing pirates just like you—‘monsters’ in their own right. And I’ll have to fight them in the name of justice.”
His eyes blazed.
“If that’s the future I’m walking into—then I’d better start getting used to despair, right now.”
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Everyone’s eyes flew wide. Their hearts trembled.
An emotion they couldn’t quite name surged like fire in their chests.
Zephyr’s face lit up with pride.
Kuzan’s eyes flared as he punched the air in excitement.
Tokikake clenched his fists, eyes burning.
Gion pressed her lips together, fighting emotion.
---
Dust danced across the earth.
The blazing spirit of youth burned hotter than the sun itself.
And in that moment...
The buzz-cut Marine stood—
Tall.
Proud.
Unshakable.
Taller than anyone else on that field.
Taller even than the monster before him.
“…What an interesting fool,” Darren murmured.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t a big smile. But it was real.
Because in this kid… he saw something of himself.
And slowly, he raised his right hand.
At his command, the metal bracer around his forearm began to melt and twist, forming three smooth, mirror-like silver orbs that hovered and spun around him in a graceful orbit.
“Then come,” Darren said.
“I’ll show you…”
“Despair”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 139: Chapter 41: Standing Before You
Summary:
“To take one step toward an untouchable enemy—sometimes, that alone is the bravest thing a man can do.”
Chapter Text
“I'll show you... despair.”
As Commodore Darren spoke those words, a suffocating pressure swept across the field. Every Marine present felt a chill crawl up their spines.
The smooth, metallic spheres hovered around Darren, orbiting him with eerie precision. In the sunlight, their polished surfaces reflected the stunned faces of the onlookers.
“What kind of ability is that…?”
“Is he manipulating metal?”
“A Paramecia-type Devil Fruit…?”
"..."
Unease rippled through the ranks of the Marines. Even though they knew Darren wasn’t targeting them, those hovering orbs gave off a visceral, skin-crawling dread.
Not far away, Zephyr’s eyes narrowed behind his dark sunglasses. His muscles instinctively tensed.
He remembered what Sengoku had reported about Darren’s Devil Fruit.
If that was the move he had in mind… then even he would need to stay sharp.
“Well then…”
Darren looked calmly toward Yamakaji, who stood several dozen meters away, both hands gripping his blade.
“Come at me, Captain Yamakaji.”
Yamakaji clenched his jaw. His “Justice” coat flared behind him as he kicked off the ground, launching forward like a white arrow loosed from a bow.
The pressure Darren radiated was nearly suffocating—but that’s exactly why Yamakaji had to strike first.
If he hesitated, if he gave in to fear for even a second, his courage would be swallowed whole.
But the moment he charged—
The dust at his feet exploded into the air.
Then came the gale.
A roaring pressure tore across the field like a whirlwind.
Too fast!
Yamakaji’s eyes widened. Every pore on his body screamed with alarm.
Pure instinct and survival reflexes took over.
He swung his blade forward with everything he had!
CLANG!!
It was like slamming into a cannonball. The impact echoed across the field, unleashing a shockwave that sent him flying like a ragdoll.
His coat shredded. Shrapnel flew.
Gasps erupted from the watching Marines.
No one even saw what hit him—one moment he was charging, and the next he was violently flung back by an invisible force.
Midair, he barely stabilized his body, then skidded across the ground, his boots carving twin trenches into the training field.
He dropped to one knee, breathing raggedly. Sweat dripped down his dust-smeared face. His eyes were bloodshot.
Drip.
A single drop of blood fell from his trembling hand.
Everyone could see it—his palm was torn open. His grip faltered.
One hit—crippling damage.
Their eyes slowly shifted—
A meter-wide gouge stretched across the battlefield, from Yamakaji’s feet all the way to Darren’s. It was a perfect line etched into the earth.
And then—
The silver sphere returned.
It glided back through the air and calmly resumed its orbit, joining the other two in their steady, ominous rotation.
The Marines collectively gasped.
That crater—had been carved by a single sphere… just from the pressure of its flight.
How fast did that thing move!?
“Still want to continue?” Darren asked, expression flat.
“If that had been a direct hit… you wouldn’t be kneeling.”
He stood there, shirtless under the blazing sun, sculpted muscles casting sharp shadows across his form.
The three silver spheres floated beside him like silent ghosts, their mirrored surfaces glinting with an icy sheen.
Each one looked like it could tear through a warship.
And if he fired all three at once…?
Add that to the countless scars, the black, bottomless eyes, the sheer aura of war and bloodshed...
From a distance, Rogers Darren looked like a war god risen from the underworld.
Elegant. Cold. Merciless. Commanding.
Meanwhile, Yamakaji knelt on the ground, his uniform in tatters, caked in dirt and ash. His arm trembled. Blood dripped from his hand.
They were like two figures from different worlds—a war god and a broken soldier.
Then—
Yamakaji took a long drag from his cigar.
He tore off what remained of his jacket and tossed it aside.
Beneath it was a body just as scarred—built from the same iron discipline.
He ripped a strip from the uniform, tied it tight around his injured wrist, and bit down on the knot to fasten it.
Then—
He stood.
Grinning.
His eyes burned like wildfire.
“Of course I’ll continue.”
Darren stared at him a moment.
Then slowly nodded.
“Good.”
He raised his hand again.
BOOM!!
Another silver orb launched with terrifying speed, slicing through the air with hurricane force.
Here it comes!!
Yamakaji’s pupils contracted. That crushing pressure returned, like an ocean wave threatening to drown him in place.
He forced his eyes open, desperately trying to trace the incoming projectile.
No… it’s too fast…
For a split second—
He caught the glint of silver.
His body moved on reflex, drawing on countless hours of training and sparring.
CLANG!!
The impact exploded in front of him.
The trajectory… deflected!
Pain screamed in his ears as the sphere tore past his shoulder, slicing flesh and spraying blood into the air.
The deflected sphere crashed into a nearby training cannon—obliterating it.
A fireball bloomed behind them. Shrapnel rained down.
The Marines watching held their breath.
If that thing had hit directly, even a warship wouldn’t have survived.
Wind howled. Dust swirled.
Pain flared across his right shoulder—but Yamakaji didn’t stop.
He charged.
Staying still would mean death.
He could maybe block once… twice. But three? Four? Six?
The only way forward—
Was to move.
Even if he lost…
He was going to reach Darren.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 140: Chapter 42: Am I the Villain Now?
Summary:
“Even a broken blade, when thrown with conviction, can pierce a god.”
Chapter Text
“Charge!!”
Yamakaji roared as he plunged forward, leaving the smoke and fire behind him.
Vrrrrrrrmmmm—
The air screamed. The metallic whine drew closer and closer.
Another one!
He could hear the ripping wind, feel the heat, see the smoke swirl.
And this time—he saw it.
Just barely.
A flicker of silver—racing toward him like a ghost.
His eyes snapped wide open.
He swung his blade with all his might.
CLANG!!
A burst of sparks erupted in the haze. His face went pale. Pain shot through his arm. His body lifted off the ground from the force of the impact.
BOOM!!
The deflected metal sphere slammed into the earth at an angle, exploding in a column of dust.
The ground shook violently. The observing Marines dropped low to stay on their feet.
Yamakaji’s boots hit dirt again. He pressed forward.
His arm throbbed with pain, but he gritted his teeth and swung again.
CLANG!!
Another sphere.
Another shockwave.
This one grazed his side, leaving a charred, bloody wound across his left hip.
The backlash rippled through his entire body. Blood welled in his mouth and dripped from the corner of his lips.
But still—
He advanced.
No storm could stop his steps.
The howling sand, the searing heat—it all pushed him forward.
The silver orbs came faster now. Faster and harder. Like a relentless artillery barrage.
He couldn’t knock them away. Not fully.
But with refined swordsmanship and instinct sharpened by endless training, he redirected their trajectories—barely. Just enough to avoid fatal strikes.
Still, his body was being torn apart.
Blood burst out in red blossoms with each near miss.
From a distance—
Yamakaji looked like a man walking through a storm of blades.
Every step forward added a new wound, a new line of crimson.
Silver streaks traced the air around him like stray bullets—appearing, vanishing, then reappearing again in endless succession.
Behind him, the training ground was torn to shreds. Buildings, cannons, the earth itself—perforated by the passage of those metal orbs.
And yet—
He was only thirty meters away from Darren.
Just thirty meters.
And yet it felt like an eternity.
A hopeless distance.
A road that might never end.
Everyone watched in silence as he stumbled forward.
Zephyr clenched his jaw. His fists opened, closed, then opened again.
Thirty meters.
Twenty.
Blood stained Yamakaji’s body. His trusted blade was chipped and cracked, its edge now lined with fractures.
But he didn’t stop.
Ten.
And within ten meters, the intensity changed.
Everyone felt it.
Darren’s attack rate increased.
The silver rain came down like a storm, an unrelenting wall of death.
Yamakaji's blade swung faster. Fiercer. More desperately.
His sword edge crumbled with every clash.
Darren narrowed his eyes.
So this was the man who would become one of the strongest Vice Admirals of the future.
His sheer willpower and battle instinct alone placed him just beneath an Admiral’s tier.
Five meters.
Darren smirked faintly and reached forward.
The silver orbs accelerated violently.
Like a downpour.
Yamakaji couldn't move forward anymore.
Silver flashed past his skin, slicing him open, spraying blood in the air.
The clang of steel erupted nonstop. Sparks flew like fireworks.
The earth itself detonated in columns of dust and sand.
His blood dripped freely from his mouth now.
He could barely hold his sword.
His hand was shredded. You could see the bone.
Only the cloth tied to his hilt kept it from flying away.
Was this… as far as he could go?
Yamakaji’s eyelids sagged. His vision blurred.
And then—
“GO FOR IT, YAMAKAJI!!”
The shout cracked across the field like thunder.
Everything stopped.
Everyone blinked in confusion.
They turned—
It was Tokikake, face red, neck straining, screaming with everything he had.
“BEAT THAT BASTARD DARREN!!”
Everyone stared—
Then—
“Go, Yamakaji!!” Doberman shouted, gripping his blade.
“Charge,” Onigumo said coldly.
“You can do this!” Dalmatian growled through clenched teeth.
“You look so damn cool right now!!” Kuzan punched the air, brimming with passion.
The cadets erupted.
The entire training ground ignited with cheers.
They rallied for their comrade—the boy with the buzzcut who refused to yield.
Side by side, voices roared:
One fight. One brother. One cause.
‘Wait a sec… am I the villain now?’
Darren twitched.
Before he could respond—
“YAMAKAJI, YOU BRAT!!” Zephyr’s furious roar split the air.
“GET IN THERE AND CUT THAT DAMN DARREN DOWN! IF YOU DON’T, I SWEAR—!!”
Darren: “…”
Amid the chorus of battle cries, something swelled in Yamakaji’s chest.
Heat. Fire. Thunder.
A moment of distraction.
An opening.
He lunged.
CLANG!!
Another spark. Blood exploded from his shoulder.
CRACK!
His battered blade finally shattered—only half a sword remained.
Fragments rained down like falling stars.
The jagged edge of the broken blade glowed red-hot from friction.
Yamakaji bit through his cigar, roared, and charged forward!
One last step. One last attack.
The sand tore beneath his boots.
The wind screamed.
And then—
A flicker.
Like a spark at the tip of a dying cigar.
Like the last flash before an ember goes dark.
A trace of crimson fire flared in the chaos.
Tiny. Fragile.
And then it erupted.
A burning blade.
The broken sword, scraped raw by air, had ignited from sheer velocity.
It was ruined.
Shattered.
Just like its wielder.
And yet—
It flew.
Forward. Always forward.
Through storm. Through sand.
Through the shadows of gods.
And with one last, righteous blaze—
It struck the war god standing at the heart of it all.
Shhhhk!!
Steel bit flesh.
Flames howled into the sky.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 141: Chapter 43: The Fifth Seat Revealed
Summary:
“There are moments when a single step forward carves your name into the story of legends.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Shhk!!
Blood exploded through the air, scattering into a mist of crimson droplets.
The towering flame that had pierced the sky lasted only a second—then quickly died away.
Its embers crumbled one by one off the shattered blade, revealing cracks running deep across its surface.
No one moved.
Everyone on the field stood frozen in place.
Their eyes locked on the figure wreathed in fading smoke, still standing in silence.
And in their chests, a strange emotion rose—tight, aching, overwhelming.
Some felt tears sting their eyes.
“HAHAHAHA!! Well done!!”
Tokikake yelled, practically vibrating with adrenaline.
“That was epic!! So damn cool!!”
Kuzan’s eyes sparkled like a kid watching fireworks.
All around them, fists clenched, and tension finally released in deep, satisfying exhales.
“That was one hell of a swing,”
Darren said calmly.
His tone held more than respect—it held genuine satisfaction.
In front of him, Yamakaji, soaked in blood, was still upright.
The broken blade had buried itself deep in Darren’s chest, wedged between his muscle like a red-hot stake. Blood flowed from the wound in steady streams.
It had been a magnificent strike.
The sheer force behind it—the rage, the refusal to bow, the reckless courage—all of it had become one with the blade.
The conviction behind it… was absolute.
Darren knew.
That strike had already surpassed Gion’s best, even after her training under him.
If any other Marine officer had taken that hit…
They’d be done. Organs shredded. Dead on arrival, even if the best doctors from Marine Headquarters were waiting.
And even he, with his body as close to invincible as a human could get…
…could feel the disruption in his own breath.
‘At this rate… it’ll take at least thirty minutes before this wound closes up.’
That was with the improvements to his body—after fighting Byrnndi World, after clashing with Roger.
Had this been the old him?
‘Two hours, minimum.’
No doubt about it.
Yamakaji was future Marine HQ material—one of the pillars of Justice yet to be carved.
Yes, Darren had held back a bit. He wanted to give this kid a push. He liked his stubbornness, his grit, his sword.
But even so…
The strength behind that slash was real. Deserved. Hard-earned.
Darren looked down as the weight shifted.
Yamakaji was smiling.
Bloody teeth. Split lip.
“I made it... to your front line.”
He sounded… proud. Content.
Chest lifted high, even as his body was about to collapse.
“You’re… strong...”
He murmured, and then—his eyes closed.
Darren caught him before he fell.
The others rushed forward. Someone grabbed a Den Den Mushi and urgently called the base medics.
Within minutes, uniformed medical staff arrived and carefully loaded Yamakaji onto a stretcher.
Zephyr hovered nearby, frowning with concern. “His injuries?”
The lead medic checked him over, then replied:
“Nothing fatal. Severe blood loss, three fractures in the arm. We’ll begin transfusions immediately. No risk to life or function.”
Everyone exhaled in relief.
Then they turned to Darren.
He’d held back. They all knew it now.
And yet—
Darren ignored their looks.
He slowly turned around.
His eyes fell on Tokikake, who froze like a deer in headlights.
Darren’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile… but wasn’t not a smile either.
“Quite the spirited cheering, Commander Tokikake.”
Tokikake flinched.
“Heh… uh… atmosphere building, you know? Gotta keep the crowd fired up...”
Darren said nothing.
Just kept smiling.
“…Hehehe…”
Tokikake’s face twitched. He took a step back. Then another.
Zephyr glared at the coward, then stepped forward.
“Doctor—check Darren’s wound too.”
“No need, Zephyr-sensei.”
Darren waved it off.
“No need!? You idiot, you just got out of critical care!”
Zephyr’s voice cracked with frustration.
“If that hit leaves any lingering damage, you’re gonna regret—”
He stopped cold.
Behind his sunglasses, his eyes widened.
The wound…
Had already stopped bleeding.
“…What…”
Zephyr’s mouth twitched.
He finally understood why Sengoku always looked like he’d seen a ghost whenever Darren’s name came up.
What kind of monster was this kid?
“Zephyr-sensei!! Let’s move on already!!”
Kuzan shoved his face into the conversation, flexing his arm and flashing a huge grin.
“I’ve been waiting forever!!”
Zephyr sighed.
“…Fine.”
“The winner of this duel…”
He looked to Darren again.
“Darren.”
“The top four advancing to the semifinals of the Elite Officer Training Camp are: Kuzan, Tokikake, Gion, and Darren.”
“But before that… we’ll determine the fifth seat.”
“The contenders are Onigumo and Yamakaji…”
“Given Yamakaji’s current condition, he is unable to continue. Therefore, the winner is—”
He paused, about to declare it.
“I concede,”
Onigumo cut in.
Zephyr blinked.
“…You’re sure?”
Onigumo rested a hand on his sword. Face calm.
“That last strike… I couldn’t block it.”
“I’m not his equal.”
“That fifth seat—belongs to him.”
Zephyr stared at him. Then nodded.
“…Very well. Then I officially declare—Yamakaji claims the Fifth Seat.”
No one objected.
They’d all seen it.
He’d earned it.
“Now, draw your lots.”
Zephyr held out four crumpled slips of paper.
Kuzan rushed in first, practically bouncing, and grabbed one.
Darren and Gion followed in calm silence.
Tokikake stood frozen.
Sweating bullets.
He looked at the last remaining paper like it was a live grenade.
He glanced at Darren.
Death.
Then at Kuzan.
Probably death.
Then at Gion.
Worse than death.
“…Zephyr-sensei, can I just surrender now?”
“No.” ×4
Zephyr. Darren. Kuzan. Gion.
Unanimous. Cold. Final.
Tokikake: “…”
Trembling, he picked it up. Unfolded it.
Number: 2.
“…Well, that’s unfortunate.”
A voice purred behind him.
Tokikake’s face turned ghostly white.
He slowly turned.
Darren was standing right there.
Holding up his own slip of paper.
Also marked: 2.
“Didn’t you shout something earlier… about ‘Beat that bastard Darren’?”
Darren smiled.
And this time, it was definitely not friendly.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
"And so concludes Tokikake’s bold strategy of shouting at a monster before reading the matchups"
Chapter 142: Chapter 44: I’m Too Sick to Fight
Summary:
“Even fools who fall can still stand—if only to be knocked down again by something greater.”
Chapter Text
“Winner of the first match… Kuzan!!”
Zephyr, arms crossed at the edge of the training ground, announced loudly.
There had been no suspense at all.
Kuzan, who drew number 1, faced off against Gion—but as Onigumo had said before, without Armament Haki, no one stood a chance against a Logia-type like him.
The innate advantage of a Logia Devil Fruit at early stages was unquestionable. Just the passive ability to turn into an element made the user nearly untouchable.
Even Gion, the strongest swordswoman in this year’s training camp, couldn’t do a thing.
And that’s not even counting Kuzan’s base strength, which already far surpassed hers.
It was over in less than a minute.
Her feet frozen solid, the duel ended.
The crowd wasn’t particularly surprised—but they were still shaken by Kuzan’s sheer power.
And with that, Kuzan advanced to the finals.
“Next match: Darren versus Tokikake!”
All eyes turned to the two remaining fighters—one calm and relaxed, the other…
Zephyr’s brow twitched as black lines practically floated over his head.
There stood Tokikake, looking like a man walking to the gallows. His hairy legs were trembling so hard they looked like they'd snap.
“What’s wrong, Commander Tokikake? Not coming up?”
Darren stepped into the ring, rolling his neck until it cracked like popping beans. He smiled, amused.
“I’m standing right here, you know. The perfect chance to ‘Beat that bastard Darren.’”
Tokikake felt the sweat flood down his back at that.
Darren’s grin was… monstrous.
He quickly averted his eyes and looked to Zephyr like a panicked child asking for a bathroom break.
“Uhh… Zephyr-sensei, I think I’m sick. I feel... awful.”
He clutched his chest and made a pained face.
Everyone: “…”
Zephyr’s lips twitched. He almost rolled his eyes.
‘This punk thinks my Observation Haki doesn’t work, huh?’
“You’re sure you’re unwell?”
It… might work?
Tokikake lit up. “Yes! Definitely! I’ve come down with a serious condition—I call it Can’t-Fight-Disease!”
Zephyr nodded thoughtfully.
Then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he calmly walked over to a training cannon.
Loaded it. Aimed.
Right at Tokikake.
“How about now? Feeling any better?”
Tokikake: “…”
Everyone else: “…”
“Actually, I’m cured!! I feel great now, Zephyr-sensei!!”
In a flash, Tokikake scrambled into the field—legs still shaking, glancing back every few steps like he was about to be shot in the back.
Zephyr shook his head with a sigh.
Truth was, forfeiting was allowed. But Tokikake was way too slippery. As his instructor, Zephyr had to guide him properly.
He needed… polishing.
(Not that Zephyr would ever admit he also really wanted to see him get pummeled.)
“D-Darren, y-you ready for this?” Tokikake called out from a good ten meters away, trying his best to look cocky while his knees wobbled.
And then—
“Go get him, Tokikake!! Didn’t you just tell me earlier that you could easily beat Darren down if you tried?!”
Kuzan yelled, eyes sparkling, pumping his fists.
Tokikake froze.
‘Bro, I whispered that!! Whispered!! That was clearly a lie! A bluff! You’re supposed to take that to your grave!!’
His face twisted in horror.
“Shut up, Kuzan!!”
But Kuzan just doubled down, eyes burning with admiration.
“I get it! You’re just being humble! That’s so cool, Tokikake! Get in there and flatten Darren!!”
He gave a giant thumbs-up.
“Didn’t you say you’d be waiting at the top for us?! GO!”
Tokikake wanted to crawl underground and die.
He turned to Darren to explain—“I didn’t mean it, he’s making stuff up, please don’t kill me”—
But as he turned…
A fist filled his vision.
BOOM!!
The punch shattered his teeth and echoed like thunder.
His scream was like a pig being butchered.
The crowd winced.
Everyone could feel that pain in their own bones.
Thirty seconds later.
The training ground was a disaster zone.
Dust clouds billowed across the ruined field, which now resembled the aftermath of a bombing. Craters everywhere.
Darren stepped out of the dust, stretching his arms like a man waking from a good nap. He looked very satisfied.
Behind him—
At the center of a deep crater, Tokikake lay flat on his back.
His face was swollen like a balloon. His pupils were unfocused. His legs twitched every now and then.
Two shattered wooden sandals were stabbed into the ground beside him like makeshift gravestones.
The other Marines just… stared.
Blank expressions. Twitching eyes.
Zephyr sighed heavily and facepalmed.
“Winner: Darren.”
He shook his head and declared the result.
“Next up: the match for third place, Gion versus Tokikake.”
He glanced at the man still twitching in a crater.
“Given that Tokikake is in no condition to—”
“Wait.”
A ragged, hoarse voice suddenly rose from the dust.
Everyone turned, wide-eyed.
Tokikake was trying to stand.
He groaned and wobbled to his feet—missing half a front tooth, face mangled, but his gaze steady.
“I’m fighting this match.”
Blood trickled down his arms. His body was a wreck.
But something in his eyes…
Everyone went quiet.
Even Kuzan got choked up, biting his knuckle.
“What a man… He’s already half-dead, but he still won’t back down…”
Even Zephyr looked a little taken aback.
“You sure? You’re in no shape to fight.”
Yes, Darren had held back.
But the damage wasn’t fake.
Tokikake nodded hard.
“I’m sure, Zephyr-sensei.”
Zephyr softened.
Maybe he misjudged this kid.
Maybe—
“This is my chance for close contact with Gion—uh, I mean sparring!!”
…
Forget it.
Zephyr almost coughed up blood.
“Fine. Whatever. Fight then.”
---
One minute later.
Tokikake was being wheeled away on a stretcher.
Three broken ribs.
According to the medics.
He looked delirious, eyes glassy, whispering:
“I almost… touched Gion’s hand…”
Everyone: “…”
The entire training camp’s collective worldview shattered.
Zephyr lit a cigar in despair.
Took a long drag.
And then—
“We now begin the final match!”
“Kuzan versus Darren—this duel will decide the top cadet of the Elite Officer Training Camp!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 143: Chapter 45: Battle with Kuzan
Summary:
“To stand equal with a monster… you must become one yourself.”
Chapter Text
“The fight for first place... Darren versus Kuzan!!”
As Zephyr’s voice echoed across the training field, the crowd’s eyes lit up with excitement. All attention turned to the two figures at the center.
“It’s finally happening!”
“A showdown between monsters!”
“Both are Devil Fruit users—and both are terrifyingly strong!”
“I still feel like Darren gives off more pressure than Kuzan…”
“Yeah, but can he actually threaten a Logia? You just… can’t touch them!”
Speculation buzzed through the elite Marines gathered from across the world.
After everything they’d seen, it was clear:
Darren and Kuzan were no longer on their level.
Only those with the title monster had the right to stand against another monster.
At the edge of the field, Zephyr stood watching silently, his eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses.
In all their earlier battles, neither Darren nor Kuzan had been pushed to their limits.
But now—this final duel might reveal their true strength.
“HAHAHAHA!! Darren!! Are you ready for this!? Finally… finally, it’s our turn!!”
Kuzan practically bounced into the center, flushed with excitement. His eyes blazed with pure, burning anticipation.
Darren couldn’t help but chuckle.
He had to admit—there was something comically dramatic about young Kuzan.
But it wasn’t irritating.
It was… oddly endearing.
“Come on.”
No speeches. No warm-up.
Just action.
Darren raised his arm. The metal bracer around his wrist melted, then twisted and solidified into a glowing metal sphere. A magnetic pulse sent it rocketing forward.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The orb tore through the air, shattering the sound barrier multiple times. Shockwaves rippled in white rings behind it, trailing sonic booms.
Facing a monster like Kuzan—there was no point in holding back anymore.
With his magnetic field at full throttle, the projectile was moving twice as fast as it had against Yamakaji.
CRACK!
Aside from Zephyr, no one could track it.
They only felt a violent gust of wind—and then...
Kuzan’s face exploded.
Shards of ice flew outward. Half of his head was reduced to a gaping hole, the rest frozen over in jagged crystalline patches.
Frost crawled across the surface of what was left, cracking at the edges.
Then—
His face reformed from ice.
Kuzan stood frozen in place, blinking slowly.
Even he hadn’t reacted in time.
“...Tch.”
The Marines finally snapped out of their shock.
“Did you… see that?” Doberman asked, face pale.
“No…” Onigumo rasped, voice dry and tight.
“Unbelievable…” Dalmatian whispered, forehead beaded with sweat.
Terror and awe twisted their expressions.
Now they understood—Darren had been holding back a lot during his fight with Yamakaji.
If any one of them had taken that hit…
Their heads wouldn’t have turned into ice.
They would have become a red mist.
“Yeah… you’re strong, alright.”
A bead of sweat trickled down Kuzan’s brow.
He stood still for a second.
Then—
He grinned.
The shock vanished, replaced by wild joy.
“Just what I’d expect from a man I’ve acknowledged!”
“Darren—only someone like you deserves to be my lifelong rival!!”
His words rang out like a vow.
A chilling mist erupted from his palm as he formed a white, glimmering ice lance.
Kuzan’s expression turned serious. His grin faded into steel focus as he took a long, steady step forward.
His body became taut like a drawn bowstring. The frozen spear in his hand glinted coldly in the sunlight.
“Watch yourself, Darren. Try this!”
He threw the spear with everything he had.
BOOM!
A white explosion tore through the air as the lance flew like a missile toward Darren.
Darren narrowed his eyes.
His bio-magnetic field flared to maximum.
He shifted slightly.
The spear missed him by a hair, skimming past his head and slamming into a ruined fortress behind him.
FWUMP!
In less than a second, the entire structure turned white—frozen solid.
The frost spread ten full meters outward before finally slowing. The Marines stared, horrified.
In the same moment—
Darren launched forward like a shell from a cannon.
The ground beneath him shattered and collapsed in layers. Yellow sand rose in waves behind him.
He was fast.
Kuzan’s pupils contracted.
He’d known Darren was strong—but this?
This was pressure.
Crushing pressure.
Still—
Kuzan raised a hand. A gleaming white ice pillar burst from his palm.
“Iceball!”
But from behind Darren, a metal orb streaked forward and morphed into a wide metallic shield.
CLANG!!
The shield smashed into the ice pillar, shattering it into sparkling dust.
The next second—
Darren cut through the snow like a phantom.
He spun mid-air, body twisting, black boot arcing wide.
The centrifugal force turned the kick into a bladed whip—aimed straight at Kuzan’s face.
Kuzan didn’t retreat.
He conjured another ice spear and swung.
CRACK!
It shattered immediately.
“I win!!”
Kuzan shouted, and instead of dodging—he opened his arms.
He was going to take the hit head-on.
Then freeze Darren solid.
No matter how strong he was… he couldn’t touch a Logia.
“ICETIME—na—!?”
WHAM!!
Darren’s kick landed. Directly. Fully. On his face.
The impact warped Kuzan’s horse-shaped mug like jelly. Ripples distorted his skin from the sheer force.
It was like being hit by a giant’s hammer.
He flew through the air like a ragdoll.
Over a hundred meters.
Until he crashed into a five-story teaching building.
BOOOOM—!!
Everyone watched in stunned silence.
One floor collapsed.
Then another.
Then another.
Until the building crumbled completely, smoke and debris rising like a storm surge across the training ground.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 144: Chapter 46: That Technique
Summary:
“True power isn’t in how hard you strike… but in whether you’re still standing after the storm.”
Chapter Text
A deep, groaning rumble echoed through the ground. Dust billowed outward, driven by shockwaves as the collapsed building smoldered in ruin.
Every Marine stared in stunned silence, eyes fixed on the shattered remains of the teaching tower.
That kick…
Just watching it hurt.
Wait—Darren landed that hit?
His attack… actually worked?
The realization struck them all at once. Their gazes snapped toward Darren—and their pupils shrank in shock.
There he stood, leg still outstretched from the strike. His gleaming black combat boot was cloaked in swirling, invisible force—like a spiraling hurricane.
“Armament Haki!!”
“He’s using Armament Haki!!”
“That kind of talent… he’s a monster!”
“Unbelievable…”
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Most couldn’t even believe their eyes.
Then—
“Darren, you little brat!! Forget the fortress—you kicked him through a whole teaching building! Couldn’t you have aimed somewhere else?!”
Zephyr’s voice erupted, full of fury and grief. His teeth clenched in pain—not for the battle, but for the budget.
Luckily, the academy’s formal sessions hadn’t begun yet. No staff had been inside. If they had, it would’ve been a disaster.
Still…
Rebuilding the building was going to cost.
“Do you know how expensive that was?!”
The crowd: …
Now? Zephyr-sensei, you’re worried about that now?
“I apologize, Zephyr-sensei. I’ll compensate twice the full amount for any damages caused during the duel.”
Darren retracted his boot and smiled.
Zephyr blinked.
“…Alright then. Carry on.”
Everyone: …
Their lips twitched.
But then their thoughts turned elsewhere.
Was it… over?
Was Kuzan down?
Had that attack ended the fight?
They turned, eyes locking on the rubble of the collapsed building.
Thick smoke curled through the cracks in the stone. From deep within the wreckage, white frost began to spread.
Crystal by crystal, a glittering trail of ice bloomed outward—until a human silhouette formed at the edge of the ruins.
“Kuh… kuh…”
Blood trickled from the corner of Kuzan’s mouth. One side of his face had visibly swollen.
But his eyes?
They shone with blazing determination.
“Armament Haki… huh? You really are the rival I acknowledged.”
Darren couldn’t help but marvel.
Any other person here—anyone—would’ve been out cold from that kick alone.
Even Tokikake, thick-skinned and reinforced by Darren’s own brutal training, wouldn’t have stayed conscious.
But Kuzan?
He looked like he was just getting started.
‘Is this what monster-level physical endurance looks like…?’
For a moment, Darren’s mind flashed back to the war on Marineford—when Sakazuki took Whitebeard’s Shockwave Punches to the face and kept fighting.
‘No… it’s more than that.’
His eyes drifted to the collapsed building.
His kick had dealt three distinct layers of damage:
One — the raw power of his body.
Two — the explosive burst of Armament Haki.
Three — the collision with the structure and the resulting crush trauma.
And yet—
Kuzan had phased out of that final impact using his Logia intangibility.
No wonder battles between Admirals and Emperors (Yonko) were measured in days.
When you’d trained your body and Haki to that level, even the most brutal slugfests couldn’t decide a winner quickly.
“Still willing to keep going, Kuzan?” Darren asked, smiling.
Kuzan grinned back.
“Of course!”
“But since you’re using Armament Haki now… I guess it’s time I use that move.”
He inhaled deeply. Took a single step forward. Raised his right hand.
And his gaze sharpened like a blade.
A long stream of icy breath flowed from his lips, crystallizing in midair.
Crackle…
Ice rapidly coiled around Kuzan’s arm.
The temperature across the battlefield plummeted.
Hot and cold currents twisted together, forming a violent wind that tore across the field, biting and cruel.
With a sharp cry, wings of pure ice unfurled from his arm.
A high-pitched screech echoed over the campus.
Then—
A giant ice pheasant burst forth from Kuzan’s hand, wings wide, surging forward like an avalanche made of crystal and death.
Everything in its path turned white.
Frost coated the earth.
Snow swallowed the world.
“Ice Block: Pheasant Beak!!”
Darren’s eyes narrowed as an overwhelming wave of cold rushed toward him.
The ten-meter-tall bird tore across the battlefield like a glacier collapsing in real time.
He moved to dodge—
But his right leg twitched.
He glanced down.
Ice.
A thin layer of frost had crept over his boot.
From that kick earlier…?
“Incredible… even after taking that hit, Kuzan managed to freeze Darren’s leg!”
“There’s no way he can dodge now!”
“His instincts are terrifying…!”
All eyes locked on Darren.
In front of that monstrous, storm-born ice bird, the Marine commodore looked… tiny.
As if he’d be swallowed whole in the next heartbeat.
But then—
Darren smiled.
He raised his hand.
A coin appeared between his fingers.
A simple coin—dull, unassuming.
Buzz…
His thumb flicked.
The coin flipped into the air.
Time seemed to slow.
The tumbling coin reflected the shimmering wings of the ice pheasant… the crowd’s widened eyes… Kuzan’s thrill…
…and Darren’s cocky grin.
Blue sparks crackled from his fingertips.
Then—
Snap.
“Magnetic Overload: Railgun!”
Far across the field, Zephyr’s pupils shrank.
The world seemed to freeze for a second.
And then—
BOOOOM!!
A blinding pillar of orange-red energy erupted from the ground, coiled in lightning.
The world flashed white—
Then plunged into black.
For an instant, the sun itself seemed to vanish.
The railgun’s beam tore through the air with a shriek, pulverizing the giant ice bird in an instant.
The crystal creature shattered and melted, its wings blown apart before it even got close.
The railgun didn’t slow.
It roared toward Kuzan.
“NO!!”
“Kuzan!!”
“Get out of there!!”
Panic exploded from the sidelines.
But Kuzan… stood frozen.
He stared into the oncoming inferno. His pupils reflected only light.
KA-BOOM!!!
The beam engulfed him.
The battlefield disappeared in a flood of heat and force.
A howling gale exploded outward, a tidal wave of wind and flame.
Kuzan’s eyes widened.
And then—
Through the storm…
A silhouette appeared before him.
Tall. Colossal. Unmoving.
His short violet hair danced in the shockwave.
On his snow-white coat, the kanji for Justice shimmered in gold.
Like a dragon rising from the earth.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 145: Chapter 47: Title of the First Seat
Summary:
“Glory is earned—but never permanent. Strength is a journey… not a title.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Light and shadow swirled across the battlefield. A white cape embroidered with the word Justice danced in the storm winds.
Kuzan stood frozen in place, eyes locked on the towering figure before him. Something hot and powerful welled up in his chest.
“…Zephyr-sensei…”
The sight engraved itself deep into his heart—a memory that would never fade.
The blinding radiance gradually faded.
Dust settled.
Smoke coiled into the sky like mourning banners.
All across the field, Marines pushed themselves up with their swords, gazes stunned and breath held as they looked out toward the center.
The smoke obscured everything.
“Did he make it?”
“Did he escape?”
“What was that power…?”
“We trained alongside that guy…!?”
Faces across the square were lined with disbelief.
Then, as a breeze cleared the haze—clarity struck.
Their eyes widened.
An enormous, charred trench cut a burning path through the entire parade ground. Lingering flames flickered along its surface, beginning at Darren’s feet and ending just before a massive figure.
“…Zephyr-sensei…”
“It’s him!!”
“He blocked it!! He saved Kuzan!!”
Cheers erupted.
The mountain-like presence of Zephyr stood before Kuzan, one hand calmly raised.
His finger, clad in pitch-black Armament Haki, pressed firmly against a still-spinning coin.
Black sheen faded from its surface as steam hissed into the air.
The heat from the coin’s supersonic flight still radiated through the air.
“…Infusing Armament Haki… into a coin. What a brilliant idea.”
Zephyr caught the coin in his hand, his eyes settling on Darren—who stood nearby, panting, face pale.
After a pause, the instructor’s lips curled into a rare, admiring smile.
“How did you come up with that, Darren?”
Darren took a long breath to calm the erratic rhythm of his lungs.
Like all Devil Fruits, using the Magnet-Magnet Fruit consumed stamina—and the Railgun had drained almost all of it.
The move functioned by overloading his magnetic field, violently accelerating a small metallic object—in this case, a coin—into a high-speed projectile.
And adding Haki to the coin?
That had pushed his energy consumption to double what he expected.
But the result?
Spoke for itself.
In the canon, Darren recalled, the warrior women of Amazon Lily infused their arrows with Armament Haki to enhance piercing power—though Haki on a projectile rapidly degraded after it left the body.
Still…
“It was just an idea. Didn’t think it would actually work,” Darren admitted, wiping sweat from his brow with a grin.
With Zephyr here, he hadn’t needed to hold back. He could unleash everything—even risk breaking his limit.
After all, Black Arm Zephyr was a man who once terrified entire pirate fleets.
The fact that he blocked that Railgun with a single finger?
Said enough.
Zephyr chuckled.
A lunatic, through and through.
He turned and patted Kuzan on the shoulder.
“You alright, Kuzan?”
Kuzan blinked and finally returned to his senses. He scratched his head, grinning sheepishly.
“I’m fine. Darren’s just… way too strong. I lost.”
There was no bitterness in his voice. Only awe.
That moment, when death had rushed toward him—he knew he couldn’t have dodged.
Not that attack.
If Zephyr hadn’t intervened…
That coin, laced with Haki, would’ve torn him apart.
Literally.
“You’ve done well,” Zephyr said kindly. “Back in their training days, Sakazuki and Borsalino weren’t necessarily stronger than you.”
His eyes flicked to Darren.
Not that Darren had surpassed those two monsters—not yet.
But they had entered the camp earlier.
And with time?
He was confident both Darren and Kuzan would undergo explosive growth under his guidance.
Kuzan’s eyes lit up.
“Did you hear that, Darren!?”
“I may have lost, but I’m not done chasing you down!”
He threw a thumbs-up Darren’s way.
“Don’t get cocky!!”
Darren smiled faintly.
“How could I?” he replied. With someone like you on my heels, how could I ever afford to slack off… Kuzan.
“Alright!!”
Zephyr clapped his hands, beaming with pride.
“All personnel—assemble!!”
At once, every Marine straightened, adjusted their uniforms, and ran forward with solemn expressions. They formed a clean square in front of Zephyr, boots planted firmly in the dust.
The sun poured down over the courtyard.
Each young face gleamed with vitality, resolve, and the brilliant sheen of ambition.
Snap!
They raised their hands in perfect unison.
“ZEHPYR-SENSEI!!”
Zephyr’s heart swelled. He smiled, then spoke with a voice that rang across the parade grounds.
“Then allow me to formally announce…”
“The top five of this year’s Elite Officer Training Camp—”
“Fifth Seat: Yamakaji.”
“Fourth Seat: Tokikake.”
“Third Seat: Gion.”
“Second Seat: Kuzan.”
“And the First Seat…”
He paused.
His gaze fell on the tall, black-haired Marine at the front.
“—Rogers Darren.”
“Let us all congratulate him on earning this honor.”
Thunderous applause broke out.
Smiles. Cheers. No resentment—just respect.
He had earned it.
Zephyr raised a hand. The clapping faded.
“But remember—this ranking is only temporary.”
His voice turned serious.
“During your time here, anyone may challenge a higher rank. Victory means seizing their seat.”
“Don’t complain. This is how life works.”
“Not just in training, but in the world. The moment you slack off, someone else surpasses you.”
“So—”
“Get stronger!”
“Keep running!”
“Keep fighting!”
“And know this—no matter where life takes you… whether you become pillars of the Marines, or rise to the rank of admiral…”
Zephyr drew in a deep breath, his voice booming like cannonfire.
“As long as you fight for the justice in your heart—I will always be proud of you.”
He grinned wide.
“…My students.”
---
That day…
The Third Elite Officer Training Camp of Marine Headquarters officially began.
And the man who temporarily claimed the title of First Seat—
Was the Marine from the North Blue…
Rogers Darren.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Did you enjoy these chapters?
What did you think of the battle scenes—the pacing, the emotional impact, the clash of ideals?
I'm always open to feedback and critique. Every comment helps me improve and bring the story to life more vividly for English-speaking readers.
Your thoughts matter, and I’ll do my best to keep pushing the quality even further.
Let’s keep walking this path together—through fire, steel, and justice.
Chapter 146: Chapter 48: What Kind of Man Is Darren?
Summary:
“Some men wear justice like a uniform. Others carry it like a scar.”
Chapter Text
That night.
Late evening.
Elite Officer Training Camp, Administration Building, Chief Instructor's Office.
A soft, flickering glow from an oil lamp pushed back the darkness inside the room. Zéphyr sat behind a timeworn desk, pen in hand, hunched over a mountain of paperwork. The lamp's light stretched his silhouette across the office wall—tall, firm, immovable.
With each page he turned, glimpses of cadet files could be seen, each one detailing the records of the newest recruits in the training camp.
A green glass bottle of liquor sat beside him. The cork was already off.
After a long while, Zéphyr finally closed the last folder and let out a deep breath, his stern expression melting into one of rare satisfaction.
This year’s batch of cadets was exceptional. Perhaps the best he’d seen. Better even than the first or second cohorts. So good it was hard to believe.
He looked down at the names—names that gleamed like gold—and felt a swell of pride and anticipation rise within him.
Lifting a cigar to his lips, he lit it and took a slow, satisfying draw. Then reached for the bottle.
Knock knock knock...
A sharp rapping came from the door.
Zéphyr stiffened, hurriedly stubbing out the cigar. Before he could stash the bottle, the door opened—and Gion walked in, carrying a stack of files.
“Zéphyr-sensei…”
She paused, her sharp nose twitching. The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Her eyes swept over Zéphyr, whose posture had frozen mid-movement.
“Didn’t the doctor tell you to quit drinking and smoking? This isn’t good for your condition.”
Due to a staffing shortage after the camp's official launch, Vice Admiral Tsuru had suggested Gion act as Zéphyr's temporary assistant, helping with administrative matters.
Caught red-handed, Zéphyr offered a sheepish grin.
“Ah, Gion, today’s a good day, so I was just celebrating a little—”
“You said the same thing yesterday.”
“Er… yesterday was a good day too.”
“...”
Gion sighed.
She knew how stubborn Zéphyr was. No advice ever reached him.
“It’s fine, it’s fine… hahaha!”
Zéphyr raised his bottle labeled “Sherry,” proudly declaring,
“My body’s not that fragile. This is the strongest stuff around. If I don’t drink a little each day, something feels off.”
“That’s called addiction,” Gion said coolly.
Zéphyr: "..."
Defeated, he set the bottle down and glared.
“Alright, what did you come here for?”
Gion walked over and set her files on the desk.
“This is the finalized reconstruction plan and budget for the destroyed teaching building.”
Zéphyr glanced over it and was immediately overwhelmed by the numbers and details.
“Just handle it however you see fit,” he waved.
Then, as if just remembering, he looked at her seriously.
“I trust you completely, Gion!”
You just don’t want to deal with it, do you… Gion twitched slightly.
“There’s a problem with the budget. Headquarters hasn’t allocated any funds for this.”
Zéphyr raised a brow.
“Didn’t Darren say he’d compensate?”
“Yes,” Gion answered automatically.
Zéphyr laughed.
“Then it’s settled. Sengoku told me that kid's loaded.”
Gion’s eye twitched. “Then I’ll take care of it. Good night, Zéphyr-sensei.”
“Mm, get some rest. Wait—”
He stopped her at the door.
She turned back, confused.
“You spent time in the North Blue. Compared to others, you should understand Darren better. Tell me—what kind of man is he?”
Gion froze.
What kind of man was Darren?
She thought of many things: the Governor’s wife’s rage; confronting Darren over corruption; his flattery toward the Celestial Dragons; the sobbing father in the hospital; the news of the Celestial Dragon’s death; and the wild, fearless brawl with Byrnndi World...
“Darren is… a complicated man,” she finally said.
“On the surface, he seems like a wicked, irredeemable bastard. But deep down—”
“Deep down?” Zéphyr leaned forward.
Gion's voice chilled.
“Also a wicked, irredeemable bastard.”
Zéphyr: "..."
“But…”
She sighed.
“His methods are wrong, but somehow, things always work out in his hands. Difficult problems—he makes them disappear like nothing. Under his rule, the North Blue found peace. Civilian life improved dramatically.”
“I see…” Zéphyr murmured, thoughtful. “And what about his view of justice?”
Gion paused for a long time.
Then shook her head.
“I don’t know, Zéphyr-sensei.”
I truly don’t know what kind of man he is.
...
...
“Commodore Darren, this will be your assigned residence during your time at the camp.”
Standing before a modest, aging building, a young Marine Lieutenant, Junior Grade respectfully addressed Darren.
It wasn’t luxurious. The paint was chipped, the walls weathered, and ivy crawled up the corners. But it was clean. A forty-square-meter garden sat out back.
This was a standard single-family house, the kind allocated to officers of commander rank and above.
“Much appreciated,” Darren nodded, smiling.
He wasn’t picky about where he lived. If he wanted, he could buy a mansion in Marineford. But since the headquarters was providing one, that made things easier.
“Are the other cadets housed nearby as well?” he asked.
“Yes,” the young lieutenant said. “Aside from Commander Tokikake and Commander Gion, who already have personal homes, the rest of the cadets have been placed in this district for easier supervision.”
“Some even moved in with family over a month ago.”
Darren nodded.
“Thank you for your help.”
He casually handed over a thick wad of bills.
“That’s not necessary, Commodore Darren,” the young officer stammered, face flushing.
“Take it,” Darren said lightly. “I don’t like people refusing kindness. And I need a favor.”
He placed the bills into the officer’s hands.
“Tomorrow morning, buy me a fresh fruit basket. Deliver it here. Can you do that?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Just patted the man’s shoulder and walked inside.
The junior officer stared after him, then looked down at what amounted to over half a year’s salary.
Blushing, he snapped to attention and saluted hard.
“Yes sir! I will complete the task, Commodore Darren!”
Darren waved a hand over his shoulder.
“Rest well.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 147: Chapter 49: Dragon's Dream
Summary:
“The world won’t change just because you wish it to. But someone still has to try.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The night was quiet.
The stars gleamed gently above Marineford, their dim light casting silver reflections over the rooftops and gardens of the base. Darren had just stepped into the small garden outside his newly assigned house when a lazy, teasing voice called out to him from under the shade of the oak tree.
“So the rumors are true. You're loaded, huh?”
A figure reclined comfortably in a beach chair beneath the tree’s leafy cover. It was Dragon — Rear Admiral Monkey D. Dragon, to be exact — looking completely at ease, a smirk playing at his lips.
Darren let out a light chuckle.
“Breaking into someone’s yard uninvited isn’t exactly model Marine behavior.”
Dragon shrugged. “Come on, don’t be stingy. This place is way too big for one guy to enjoy alone.”
Darren had known Dragon long enough not to bother arguing. He dropped into the empty beach chair beside him, his gaze drifting toward the night sky, calm and silent.
Not one to sit quietly for long, Dragon tried to spark conversation.
“Congrats on taking the top seat of the Elite Officer Training Camp.”
Darren responded without looking away from the stars. “It’s just the beginning. Don’t forget, Kuzan’s still called ‘the Monster’ for a reason.” He turned his head slightly. “What about you, Rear Admiral Dragon? Not going home tonight?”
Dragon waved it off.
“Nope. Got into another argument with the old man. Don’t want to look at that sour face again tonight.”
“Oh?” Darren offered mildly. “What was it about this time?”
Dragon sighed, folding his hands behind his head.
“I told him I wanted to become an admiral someday. He blew up like a startled cat. Said I wasn’t cut out for it, that I should aim to be a Vice Admiral like him and live a free, laid-back life.”
He frowned, bitterness creeping into his tone.
“He never wanted promotion, sure — but that doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”
Darren turned his head slightly. “So you hate being called ‘the hero’s son’?”
Dragon blinked. “What? No, it’s not that…”
He clenched his fists.
“It’s just — everyone expects me to live up to that title. But nobody ever asks what I want.”
Darren rolled his eyes. Classic rich kid problems.
“So what do you want, then?”
Dragon sat up straighter, his eyes suddenly shining.
“Glad you asked!”
He leaned forward, voice filled with conviction.
“Darren, ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a dream. I want to change the world.”
Darren arched an eyebrow.
“Change the world? The world’s treated you pretty well, I’d say.”
He began listing:
“Bathed in the light of a ‘hero.’ Raised in comfort most can’t even dream of. Promoted to Marineford’s youngest lieutenant commander at fifteen. When I was that age, I was still a grunt scrubbing toilets and dodging mob thugs in the North Blue.”
“You had elite officers praising you. I had pirates trying to stab me.”
“So spare me the self-pity.”
Dragon turned red with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant…”
Darren waved him off. “Then explain. Why change the world?”
Dragon inhaled deeply.
“When I was little, I lived in a village in the East Blue. Foosha Village. It was a peaceful place — no war, no pirates. Just windmills and families.”
He paused.
“But one day, a ship full of refugees drifted into port. They were barely alive. Emaciated, sunburned, too weak to walk. Most of them died within days.”
“Their home country was devastated by famine, made worse by pirate raids. Over half the population starved.”
“Our villagers tried to help, but… it wasn’t enough. They were too far gone.”
He clenched his fists tightly.
“That country was just two days’ sailing from Foosha Village. Just two hundred nautical miles. And yet — it was the difference between paradise and hell.”
“I kept thinking, if I’d had more power… more resources… I could have saved them.”
“If I become an admiral — no, even Fleet Admiral — I can lead the Marines toward real justice. Not just punishing pirates, but preventing tragedies before they happen.”
He stood up, eyes blazing.
“I want to use the justice of the Marines to change the world.”
“To bring happiness to everyone.”
Darren was quiet.
He turned to look at the young man standing beside him — idealistic, burning with hope. For a moment, he almost felt envious.
“Maybe Vice Admiral Garp is right.”
Dragon blinked. “Huh?”
“You’re not suited to be an admiral. Let alone Fleet Admiral.”
Dragon opened his mouth to argue, but Darren was already standing up.
“It’s late. Go home. I need rest.”
As Darren closed the door behind him, he paused.
“Dragon… the world is far crueler than you imagine.”
“One day, you’ll understand.”
The door shut.
And Dragon was left standing alone in the moonlit garden.
Silent.
For a long, long time.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Author’s Note:
Just a quick reminder to all the readers—Darren’s view of justice is very complex. It’s far from the kind of pure, clear-cut justice Ron pursued in my previous novel.
This is a direct result of their very different backgrounds.
Darren doesn’t have a golden finger (cheat ability). Ron had a system from the start.
Darren is someone who climbed up from the very bottom, step by step, through blood and hardship.
Ron, on the other hand, was a favored prodigy—a top student at the Marine Academy—from the moment he arrived in this world.
---
Author’s Other Work:
这海军能处,白胡子他真敢杀!
Literal MTL Title: This Navy Can Have a Place, Whitebeard He Really Has the Courage to Kill!
Chapter 148: Chapter 50: Winning Hearts
Summary:
"True power isn't built on force or fear...
It's built on trust—quiet, invisible, but enduring."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Golden morning light streamed through the glass window, casting dappled patterns of leaves on the wall—a scene of calm and quiet ease.
Darren opened his eyes and slowly sat up from bed.
The room was small, but impeccably clean.
He instinctively ran a check over his condition. As his finely tuned bodily awareness kicked in, his personal status panel surfaced in his mind:
Physique: 65.131
Strength: 63.135
Speed: 63.591
Devil Fruit: 74.167
All four stats had improved significantly since the last time.
Physique had seen the biggest leap—proof that taking Roger’s nearly fatal Divine Avoidance head-on wasn’t in vain. That single strike alone had pushed his endurance (physique) up by at least two points.
The other three—Strength, Speed, and Devil Fruit—had each increased by just over one point.
Hard to believe it was all from a single fight.
Darren quietly estimated: if he’d relied on his old training methods from the North Blue, even pushing his body to the absolute limit, it would've taken at least three months to achieve the same gains.
And yet this came from nothing more than a brief skirmish.
Then again, it made perfect sense.
A hundred simulations couldn’t match a single real battle.
That surge of adrenaline on the brink of death, the way every cell, every muscle, every nerve was pushed to the limit—it created a suffocating pressure that no regular training could reproduce.
Only by clashing with the strong could he push his body to its fullest potential and break past his limits.
“If only I could go through a few more of those…”
The thought crossed his mind, and Darren chuckled to himself.
One swing had nearly killed him. The only reason he was still breathing was pure dumb luck… not to mention, Roger hadn’t even gone all out.
If that had been a real duel to the death, he wouldn’t have lasted a second.
That slash—the one so fearsome even demons would flee before it...
Darren's hand unconsciously clenched into a fist.
He let out a long breath several seconds later and got up to wash.
After the training camp’s duel tournament, the cadets were given three days of free activity.
Part of it was to give the injured time to heal. But it was also meant to help these recruits, drawn from all over the world, get used to life in Marineford.
After a quick wash and putting on his uniform, Darren draped his Marine coat over his shoulders and stepped outside.
Autumn had quietly arrived. Leaves drifted across the yard, and even the trees seemed tinged with gold.
On a nearby beach chair lay Dragon, limbs sprawled in every direction, a bubble rising and falling from his nose as he snored.
Darren rubbed his temples.
“You really are hopeless…”
He shook his head and walked out of the courtyard.
A stiff-looking young man was already waiting outside, holding a fresh fruit basket with both hands. As soon as he saw Darren, he jogged over and saluted smartly.
“Commodore Darren! Here's the fruit basket you requested!”
The young Marine was a Lieutenant Junior Grade, clearly taking great care with the delivery.
Darren accepted the basket with a smile.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“N-no trouble at all!” the officer stammered, waving his hands quickly.
Darren then handed him a thick wad of Berries.
“Commodore, you already paid! I haven’t even used up the last amount yet…”
The officer instinctively stepped back.
“Take it. And go get me breakfast.”
His tone left no room for argument as he shoved the money into the officer’s hands.
Then he pointed back at the still-sleeping Dragon and smiled faintly.
“Nothing lifts the spirit like a warm breakfast, right?”
Without waiting for a response, Darren turned and walked off, the fruit basket swinging from one hand, leaving the young Lieutenant Junior Grade behind—holding a fat stack of colorful Berries, utterly stunned.
“This… this is way too much…”
…
The morning fog had cleared. A cool breeze brushed against his cheek—crisp and soothing.
Darren walked down the street at an unhurried pace, looking calm and composed.
He never liked making people do things for free—especially not those outside his core circle.
Back in the North Blue, where mafia influence ran deep, he’d seen too many so-called bosses end up dead in a ditch, betrayed by the very underlings they used to order around like dogs.
It was always the ones they looked down on—the grunts, the errand boys—who stabbed them in the back when things turned sour.
People were complicated.
That wad of cash meant nothing to Darren.
But to that young Marine, it was a fortune.
Real wealth wasn’t the mountains of gold you hoarded, or the digits in your bank account, or your fancy villas and private yachts—
It was the hearts you'd bought.
Maybe Darren would never need that Lieutenant Junior Grade.
But having someone you might never use was always better than needing someone you didn’t have.
For just a few hundred thousand Berries, he’d won the gratitude of the officer in charge of training camp logistics.
Why not?
As for directly handing over the cash?
No, no—that would be inappropriate.
Bribery? Violating regulations? Darren would never stoop to something so underhanded.
All he did was ask the Lieutenant to buy him a fruit basket.
And breakfast.
Following the directions, Darren soon reached his destination.
He hadn’t even reached the gate when he heard a storm of yelling from inside—mixed with the sound of something being swung and rapid footsteps.
“You little brat! You're still covered in injuries and you brought home a stray cat!? We've already got a whole zoo in here! Those damn animals eat better than we do!”
“Aaahhh! Pops, stop chasing me! You can’t even see! What if you trip!?”
“Just 'cause I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t hear, you brat! Stop running!”
“…”
Darren couldn’t help but laugh.
He stepped forward and pushed open the courtyard gate.
The two figures inside froze on the spot.
One of them had a buzz cut and was completely wrapped in bandages, stuck mid-stride in a fleeing pose.
Behind him stood a middle-aged man with cloudy eyes, breathing heavily and gripping a wooden stick.
Both men turned their heads stiffly toward Darren.
Darren raised the fruit basket.
“Looks like you’re recovering well, Captain Yamakaji.”
He smiled.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Marine Ranks:
1. Fleet Admiral (Head of the Marines)
2. Admiral (Governors-General)
3. Vice Admiral
4. Rear Admiral
5. Commodore
6. Captain
7. Commander
8. Lieutenant Commander
9. Lieutenant
10. Lieutenant Junior Grade
11. Ensign
12. Warrant Officer
13. Master Chief Petty Officer
14. Chief Petty Officer
15. Petty Officer
16. Seaman First Class
17. Seaman Apprentice
18. Seaman Recruit (“Recruit”)
19. Chore Boy
Chapter 149: Chapter 51: The Name of That Blade
Summary:
"Even a single flame, when kindled by will,
can light the peak of a mountain—and the soul of a hero."
Chapter Text
Yes, Darren had come to visit Yamakaji.
The resolve Yamakaji had shown during the training camp’s final duel had left a strong impression on him.
Besides, he was the one who injured him in the first place. It was only right to pay a visit.
“Commodore Darren?!”
Yamakaji blinked when he saw Darren standing at the gate, holding a fruit basket. Then he quickly snapped out of it.
He scratched his head awkwardly and introduced the two.
“Commodore Darren, this is my old man.”
“Dad, this is Commodore Darren.”
Darren gave a polite smile to the gruff-looking man before him.
“Pleasure to meet you. Sorry to intrude.”
…
A vibrant maple tree stood in the courtyard. Its crimson leaves danced through the cool breeze—stunning in their autumn glory.
“Why didn’t you stay in the hospital a few more days?”
Darren set down the fruit basket and sat casually on the steps, glancing at the mummy-wrapped Yamakaji.
The Marines provided free medical treatment for all personnel, and officers ranked Captain or higher had access to private recovery rooms and advanced care.
Yamakaji rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
“The injuries weren’t too serious. Didn’t want to bother the doctors or nurses.”
He nodded toward the kitchen.
“Besides… I don’t feel comfortable leaving the old man alone. As you can see, his eyesight’s not great.”
Darren gave a quiet nod.
He took a look around the courtyard. Everything was neat and well-maintained. A few scruffy kittens were dozing lazily in the shade beneath the wall.
Just then, a shaggy yellow mutt came bounding out of the house and licked Yamakaji’s hand with enthusiasm, its tail wagging like a fan.
Darren suddenly understood the claw marks on Yamakaji’s arm.
“You like animals?”
Yamakaji scratched the dog’s head and smiled.
“Not really. It’s just… seeing them out on the streets, barely surviving day to day—I can’t just ignore them.”
Darren was silent for a moment, then pulled out a fine cigar and handed it to him.
“Smoke?”
Yamakaji glanced at the gold-embossed label, blinked, then accepted it.
“Sure.”
And so the two men sat on the steps, sharing a smoke in the cool autumn breeze.
“Young man, stay for lunch. The food’s ready.”
The blind old man’s voice came from the kitchen.
“It’s not often this grumpy brat has a friend over. Don’t turn us down.”
Darren chuckled.
“Alright. Thank you.”
The dishes were simple, home-cooked fare. But Darren found himself genuinely enjoying it—soothing, heartfelt, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
After the meal, Yamakaji took over dishwashing duty, leaving Darren at the table with the old man.
“My brat of a son—he’s given you trouble, hasn’t he?”
The blind man suddenly broke the silence. He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and offered one to Darren.
Darren shook his head.
“Actually, it’s the opposite. I’m the one who’s brought trouble to Captain Yamakaji.”
As he spoke, Darren studied the man in front of him.
He looked about fifty, but his face bore the weight of far more years.
His skin was rough and tanned, his hands calloused and scarred. A brutal slash scar ran diagonally from his left eye down across his cheek—ugly and unmissable.
Noticing Darren’s gaze, the old man pointed at his face and grinned—a wild, dangerous grin.
“Don’t worry. I made sure that pirate didn’t get off easy.”
Darren was caught off guard for a moment.
“You’ve got a strong voice, kid. Sounds like you’re the firm and decisive type… that’s good.”
The blind man took a drag from his cigarette, then sighed.
“My boy’s too soft. A Marine, yet always bringing home stray cats. I’ve wanted to toss them all out more than once… Tell me, kid—do you think a brat like him can ever really take down pirates?”
Darren exhaled a steady stream of smoke.
“You don’t need to worry. Captain Yamakaji is an excellent Marine.”
“His determination to fight pirates runs deeper than anyone’s.”
He paused, then added with a smile,
“And I’m guessing you haven’t heard yet? In this year’s training camp, Captain Yamakaji placed fifth overall.”
The old man went silent.
Just then, Yamakaji came back from the kitchen.
“You boys talk,” the old man grunted, rising from his seat. Without another word, he walked out of the room.
Yamakaji looked embarrassed.
“Sorry. The old man’s kind of... peculiar.”
Darren smiled.
“Not at all. I like his style.”
Yamakaji fell quiet for a moment, then suddenly asked,
“Darren… back in that fight… you didn’t go all out, did you?”
He stared directly at the Commodore, eyes full of anticipation.
“No, I didn’t.”
Darren answered without hesitation.
Yamakaji sighed, clearly disappointed.
“I thought I’d finally come up with a new sword technique… thought I was ready to keep up with monsters like you.”
“You will.”
Darren’s tone turned serious, his praise sincere.
Anyone with the courage to swing their blade at the strong… deserved respect.
“That slash was already powerful.”
“Really?”
Yamakaji’s eyes lit up.
He thought for a second, then suddenly looked excited, like a kid with a new toy.
“Hey, Darren—my dream is to become a hero like Garp! A real man that people look up to!”
“Heroes always have cool names for their moves… I’ve been trying to think of one for my slash, but I can’t come up with anything. Could you help me name it?”
There was such youthful fire and innocence in his voice that Darren couldn’t help but chuckle.
After all, Yamakaji was still just a kid—not even twenty yet.
“You know…”
Darren remembered the fierce, blazing strike he had unleashed in that match. After a beat of thought, he smiled and said,
“How about this—the name of that slash is ‘Inferno Peak’ What do you think?”
(Fun fact: Yamakaji’s name in Chinese is ‘火烧山’—and now, so is the name of his signature sword technique.)
…
After a bit more small talk, Darren didn’t linger.
As he reached the courtyard gate, he saw Yamakaji’s father emerge from the kitchen—holding a steaming pot of chicken rice, grumbling as he bent down to serve the food to the cats and dogs.
Darren watched for a moment, smiling softly, then turned back to wave.
“Darren!!”
He heard the shout behind him just as he reached the street.
He turned back.
There stood Yamakaji, still covered in bandages, standing beneath the crimson maple tree. With sunlight behind him, he raised a fist toward the sky.
“I’ll keep training! One day, I’ll catch up to monsters like you!”
His eyes burned with resolve, gleaming with sweat and sunlight.
“I’ll make that slash—and my name—echo across the world!”
Darren froze for a second… then broke into a wide, unrestrained grin.
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
…
Every glorious, epic life—
Every battle-scarred, wise soul—
Was once a youth, standing in the sun, sweat dripping, fists raised high.
This vast and endless sea gleams brightly,
Because of dreams like these—
Burning, naïve, and pure.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 150: Chapter 52: A Life No Man Should Live
Summary:
“The world only bows to strength—
but those who bear its weight rarely sleep in peace.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With a couple days of downtime, Darren used the opportunity to stroll through all of Marineford.
Technically speaking, Marineford wasn’t a single island, but rather a network of interconnected landmasses—almost like a fortified archipelago.
From an administrative standpoint, it was divided into military and civilian zones.
The military sector included the central fortress, the elliptical harbor, massive defense structures, armories, Marine headquarters, training grounds, and offshore patrol routes.
The civilian zone—also known as the residential or commercial district—was home to locals, Marine families, and high-ranking officers. Most senior staff had their personal estates here.
Though Marineford was the core of world justice, its residential district still featured a thriving commercial street, serving the daily and social needs of those stationed here.
For supplies and trade, Marine HQ granted select merchant fleets trade permits. These licensed merchants transported goods from across the world. Once their ships docked, they underwent strict inspection before being allowed to deliver to the civilian district.
Now, sitting in his courtyard on a beach chair, Darren puffed his cigar, deep in thought.
Buru buru… buru buru…
The military transponder snail buzzed to life, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Darren pulled it from his coat, saw the signal, and let a sly grin spread across his face.
“Well, well… The Supreme Commander of the North Blue, Momonga, gracing me with a call? I’m honored.”
Momonga’s tired voice came through the line.
“Spare me. I’m telling you, this job isn’t fit for human beings.”
Darren chuckled.
“Now you see the kind of pressure I was under.”
On the other end, Momonga sat alone in the base commander’s office of the 321st branch.
His eyes were sunken, exhaustion etched into every line on his face. He took a hard drag on his cigar and growled.
“I don’t know how you survived it. I can handle internal affairs—training, procurement, budgeting, drills, pirate suppression… all manageable.”
Then his voice rose in anguish.
“But what the hell is with all these banquets?!”
“Parties, receptions, auctions, wine tastings—every single day! Do those nobles and bureaucrats even have real jobs?!”
“They keep flooding me with invitations! And now that they know you took the top spot in the training camp… it’s gotten worse.”
“They’re like sharks who’ve smelled blood. I’ve got ten transponder snails for civilian contact—they never stop ringing!”
His voice cracked with misery. His office reeked of liquor, his eyes bloodshot.
“Darren, do you know what kind of hell I’ve been living these past two weeks?”
“It’s always food or drinks, kabuki halls or rigged poker games. Luxury gifts, rare cigars, exotic wines—my office is overflowing. I try to turn them down, and they kneel on the spot!”
“Women thrown at me left and right. I play a lousy pair of threes and they fold like I dropped a royal flush.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
He slammed the desk, panting.
“Do they think I’m some kind of clown?!”
“I’m a Marine, damn it! A man of justice!”
Darren grinned wider, his cigar glowing.
“Come on, Captain Momonga. You’re living the dream life. Some people would die for that.”
“I’d rather die fighting pirates!”
Hearing Darren laugh made Momonga grit his teeth in fury.
Darren chuckled.
Power was the shortcut to everything.
When strength reached a certain level, titles, wealth, reputation, influence—they all bent the knee.
Back in the North Blue, Darren didn’t rely on politics or diplomacy. His authority came from one thing: undeniable power.
The flattery, the fake smiles, the bootlicking—they were all submission in disguise.
And now, having taken the number one spot at Marineford’s elite training camp, the message was clear:
Rogers Darren’s strength wasn’t limited to the North Blue.
He was a global force—one of the strongest Marines in the world.
No wonder the nobles and merchants of the North Blue had latched onto his successor like leeches. They weren’t fawning over Momonga—they were fighting for a spot near his shadow.
It had been Darren’s plan from the start.
The louder he roared at Marineford, the more unshakable his hold back home became.
Still… he had to admit, this side of things didn’t suit a man like Momonga.
“You’re just wound too tight. Relax a little, Momonga.”
Darren’s tone softened.
“If a party or dinner invitation isn’t worth your time, ignore it. We’re Marines. We don’t exist to kiss up to fools with money.”
“Focus on strengthening the fleet. That’s the real goal. Of course… if you need to unwind at a kabuki show now and then, I won’t judge.”
He winked.
Momonga rolled his eyes.
Social games were never his strong suit—but Darren’s words did bring some relief.
“How’s Germa 66?”
Darren asked.
At once, Momonga’s tone sharpened.
“Nothing unusual for now. Our arms deals with Vinsmoke Judge are proceeding normally.”
Darren nodded.
“And my dear godson?”
Momonga exhaled.
“Doflamingo’s growing fast. His power’s increasing at a frightening pace. A few days ago, he tore through a pirate with a thirty-million bounty in under a minute.”
“But overall, he’s been restrained. Following your rules.”
“Good,” Darren smiled. “Still… you never congratulated me for placing first.”
Momonga scoffed.
“Wasn’t that obvious?”
“I’ve got to go. New Germa weapons shipment just arrived at port. I need to oversee it.”
“Thanks. When I’m back in the North Blue, drinks are on me.”
“You better.”
The line cut.
Darren had just put away the transponder snail when a head suddenly popped into view, blocking his sunlight.
A wide grin, eyes full of schemes.
Darren: “…”
“Seriously? Don’t you people knock anymore? Aren’t you afraid I’ll hit you one of these days?”
He sighed. He’d known Tokikake was eavesdropping behind the wall the whole time.
Tokikake rubbed his hands together, snickering.
“Hey, Darren… I wanted to ask you for a favor…”
Darren raised an eyebrow.
“No.”
Tokikake’s face dropped like a stone.
Then—
With a loud thud, he dropped to his knees and grabbed Darren’s leg, howling.
“Please, Darren!!”
“I want to transfer to the North Blue! They need a deputy, right?! Let me be the Deputy to the Supreme Commander of the North Blue!”
“I want that kind of life too!!”
“That kind of inhuman torture—let this selfless genius Tokikake shoulder it alone! I beg you!!”
His wails echoed through the courtyard like a man possessed.
Darren: “…”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Tokikake just dropped to his knees, begging to live the “painful” life of fine food, wine, and constant flattery… All for the sake of duty, of course.
What about you? Do you agree with Tokikake’s way of thinking?
A. Absolutely. That kind of life sounds perfect!
B. I get him… but I wouldn’t go that far.
C. No thanks. I’d rather fight pirates.
Chapter 151: Chapter 53: The True Meaning of Rokushiki
Summary:
“Technique without purpose is just noise.
True strength is forged not in battle—but in discipline.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Darren stared blankly at Tokikake, who was now clinging to his leg, howling dramatically like a dying beast. A few black lines practically floated across Darren's forehead.
And yet, somewhere deep down, he felt... a hint of admiration.
Even Darren had to admit: Tokikake, for all his idiocy, was truly capable of one thing—shameless determination.
"You sure about this, Tokikake? That’s not something most people can handle."
Darren calmly pulled his leg free, his expression a mix of sarcasm and amusement.
"Endless parties, fine wine, cigars, women, gambling, constant entertainment—those things will eat away at your body, your willpower."
"Even someone like Momonga, a battle-hardened man through and through, is barely surviving out there. And you? You’re the fourth seat of the HQ training camp, the future of the Marines, a beacon of justice… I just can’t bring myself to let you suffer like that."
"I don’t mind!!"
Tokikake suddenly stood tall, slamming his chest with pride, tears still fresh on his face but eyes shining with righteous resolve.
"Darren, because I’m the fourth seat, because I’m the future of the Marines—I must shoulder even heavier burdens than others!"
His voice thundered with self-sacrificing bravado, and his Marine cape fluttered dramatically with no wind in sight.
"I must face the fire—those decadent banquets, seductive traps, and trials of temptation—so that I may transform into a true hero of the Navy!"
He bowed deeply.
"Please! Let me suffer this pain!"
Darren: "..."
That’s Tokikake for you. For a second, I almost believed him.
Shaking his head, Darren gave a perfunctory answer just to shut him up.
"I’ll think about it."
There was no way someone like Sengoku would let him reassign Tokikake to the North Blue.
But Tokikake misread the tone, grinning like he’d just been promoted.
"I get it, I get it."
He tossed Darren a meaningful look.
"Don’t worry—anyone who dares oppose you is my enemy from now on!"
He clenched his fists, eyes blazing.
"Everything for the glory of the North Blue!"
Darren twitched slightly.
Tone it down, man.
With that sleazy grin and average looks, you look more like some bootlicking side villain from a bad war drama...
---
Half an hour later
Training Ground, HQ Camp
Under the blazing sun, dust swirled through the courtyard.
Zephyr stood before the assembled recruits of the third HQ training class, arms crossed, sunglasses reflecting the sky. A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
"I trust the duel tournament from three days ago gave you all a better understanding of one another. So I’ll keep it brief and get to the point."
His sharp gaze swept across the crowd.
"In this training camp, you’ll receive the finest military education this sea can offer."
"Swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, navigation, climate theory, physical endurance—all part of your curriculum and final evaluations."
"But above all else, this camp will teach you one thing: how to unlock the true power within your own body."
"And starting today, I will begin teaching you the art of Rokushiki."
He launched into the explanation with precision and gravitas.
"Rokushiki, or the Six Powers, consists of Shave (Soru), Iron Body (Tekkai), Paper Art (Kami-e), Moonwalk (Geppo), Tempest Kick (Rankyaku), and Finger Pistol (Shigan). These six techniques complement one another, forming a versatile combat system covering offense, defense, and mobility."
"Most of you have likely heard of them already—perhaps even seen a Marine officer using one or two in action."
Many nodded in agreement.
Indeed, Rokushiki wasn’t exactly a secret. Plenty of Marine officers had mastered parts of it.
Zephyr suddenly pointed toward Doberman.
"Doberman, what would you say is the greatest strength of Rokushiki?"
Doberman paused thoughtfully, then answered firmly.
"Combat, Instructor Zephyr."
"Shigan delivers close-range piercing attacks. Rankyaku provides long-range power to compensate. Soru grants burst speed for approaching or retreating. Geppo is an extension of Soru for aerial movement. Tekkai and Kami-e cover defense."
"If one masters all six, they become a high-efficiency combat machine—able to adapt to any battle."
Many recruits nodded in agreement.
Only Darren subtly furrowed his brow.
Unlike the others, he knew the truth of this world.
None of the true monsters that ruled the seas relied on Rokushiki.
In fact, most so-called Rokushiki masters fell precisely because they relied on it.
And Darren, through his self-development, had already grasped portions of Rokushiki naturally.
Yet in real combat, he’d found it... underwhelming.
Tekkai dulled the body’s awareness of damage. Soru created a brief moment of stiffness after use—insignificant to most, but a glaring opening to the eyes of a true master.
So rather than calling Rokushiki a combat art...
Zephyr’s voice cut through his thoughts.
"Very good. You've clearly done your homework."
He gave Doberman a nod of praise.
"But you're not entirely correct."
Zephyr's tone shifted.
He raised his massive hand and clenched it into a tight fist.
"The true purpose of Rokushiki isn't combat."
"These aren't just flashy battle techniques. They are a strict, refined, and brilliant system of training."
"Shigan and Rankyaku refine explosive power and limb control."
"Tekkai and Kami-e develop physical resilience and nerve responsiveness."
"Soru and Geppo build instant muscle bursts and total body control."
His voice boomed like thunder, powerful and clear.
"Put simply—Rokushiki is a foundation. A path designed to push the human body beyond its natural limits."
"It has nothing to do with actual combat."
"Many fools mistake it for a fighting style and try to use it against real monsters. That’s chasing shadows."
"Yes, I’m talking about those bootlicking dogs in CP—cowards hiding in the dark, overestimating their technique."
He didn’t even bother to hide the disdain in his voice.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
1. 库赞 - Kuzan (Commander)
2. 道伯曼 - Doberman (Captain, former the Supreme Commander of the East Blue)
3. 火烧山 - Yamakaji (Captain, former the Supreme Commander of the South Blue)
4. 鬼蜘蛛 - Onigumo (Captain, former the Supreme Commander of the West Blue)
5. 加计 - Tokikake (Commander)
6. 祗园 - Gion (Commander)
7. 斯托洛贝里 - Strawberry (Captain)
8. 达尔梅西亚 - Dalmatian (Commander)
9. 古米尔 - Comil (Commander)
10. 莫三比亚 - Mozambia (Commander)
Chapter 152: Chapter 54: You're Not Gonna Blame Me, Right?
Summary:
“Strength isn’t what you use. It’s what you build.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Zephyr’s final words struck deep, and the recruits fell silent, each one sinking into thought.
They were the elites—handpicked from every corner of the sea, the best among thousands. They might not yet be monsters like Sakazuki, but their talent ranked among the highest on the Grand Line.
So it didn’t take long for them to grasp what Zephyr truly meant.
Put simply: Rokushiki was never intended as a combat style.
It was a full-body training system—a method to develop the human form beyond its limits.
Darren’s eyes glinted.
Zephyr’s explanation confirmed the theory he’d long suspected.
Each technique within Rokushiki had clear flaws in actual combat.
Soru left you open for a heartbeat. Tekkai bred overconfidence. Shigan lacked true kill power. Rankyaku couldn’t match a swordsman’s slash. Kami-e could make you sluggish. Geppo had hard limits in the air.
Used in real battle, they felt more like liabilities than assets.
But —
As a system for unlocking physical potential?
Unmatched.
Darren even suspected his own brutal endurance training back in the North Blue was, in essence, a form of Tekkai training.
He had just... overdone it a little.
At its core, Rokushiki wasn’t a fighting style. It was a means of cultivation.
Like a boxer doing pushups to strengthen his arms—but if you used pushups in the ring? You’d be an idiot.
From Zephyr’s tone, Darren could also tell: the old man didn’t have a very high opinion of CP agents.
"So listen up! Don’t rely too much on Rokushiki alone. In a real fight, adaptability is key."
Zephyr chuckled, then continued:
"One more thing. Training in Rokushiki is directly tied to your ability to awaken Haki in the future."
"By pushing your body past its limits, by mastering every inch of your strength—Haki becomes a natural next step."
He turned toward Darren with a knowing smile.
"Darren here is a perfect example. His body’s been honed past human standards. Even without using Tekkai, his defense is already at that level. It’s no surprise he awakened Armament Haki."
Murmurs of realization rippled through the crowd.
Zephyr’s clear, logical breakdown shattered their misconceptions.
Most of them had assumed you had to already be superhuman to learn Rokushiki.
But it was the other way around.
By practicing Rokushiki, step by step, you became superhuman.
Cause and effect. Simple.
"Now then," Zephyr said, sweeping his gaze across the recruits, "let me demonstrate the Rokushiki."
His eyes landed on Tokikake, who was peeking out nervously from the crowd.
"Tokikake. Come up and help."
"Me?"
Tokikake pointed to himself, hesitant.
"Yes. Hit me. Full force."
Zephyr grinned.
Tokikake winced.
"Uh, Zephyr-sensei... I don’t think that’s a good idea."
Zephyr glared, his mustache twitching.
"What? You think I can’t take your punch?!"
"N-no, of course not, it’s just... you’re not gonna blame me, right?"
Everyone: "..."
Zephyr: "..."
"GET OUT OF HERE!"
Zephyr roared, then scanned the crowd again.
"Darren. Your turn."
Darren frowned slightly.
"Are you sure, Zephyr-sensei?"
Still annoyed from Tokikake’s antics, Zephyr waved a hand.
"I may be retired, but I’m still a former admiral. I can take one punch."
"For the sake of the demonstration, I won’t use Haki. And neither will you. Just pure strength."
"Alright then."
Darren stepped forward.
Excitement flared in the crowd.
They had seen what Darren could do—one punch had leveled an entire abandoned fortress.
Zephyr addressed the recruits.
"Watch closely. Tekkai—is the art of hardening your muscles to the point of being steel-tough. Blades, bullets, fists—they bounce right off."
He took a deep breath. His muscles swelled like molten steel, stretching the seams of his uniform.
"Come, Darren."
Darren nodded.
He inhaled, focused. Every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.
Back in the duels, he hadn’t gotten a proper fight—not with Dalmatian, not with Yamakaji, not even Kuzan.
This time, he wanted to see what he could really do.
Cracks split the ground beneath his feet.
The air trembled.
BOOM!
It was like a mine went off under Darren’s feet. The ground exploded, hurling him forward like a cannonball.
That burst of speed—
Something's wrong.
Zephyr’s pupils shrank.
His instincts screamed. His body almost reflexively activated Haki...
But then he saw the hopeful eyes of the students watching him.
He grimaced.
And in that split second—
WHAM!
Darren’s fist crashed into his gut like a meteor.
Shockwaves rippled through Zephyr’s back. He slid meters across the ground before coming to a stop, boots carving trenches in the dirt.
Dust billowed.
The crowd held its breath.
Zephyr exhaled slowly, then looked up and smiled calmly.
"Yes. Very good. Solid power. Just like me in my youth."
Darren stepped back, exhaling. A bit disappointed. That was his full force, and it didn’t even dent him.
"Amazing!"
"Zephyr-sensei’s Tekkai is insane!"
"As expected from a former admiral!"
"So cool! So strong!"
Cheers erupted.
Zephyr smiled... turned... and calmly walked to the edge of the field.
Paused.
Then bent over.
BLEAUGH!!
Everyone: "..."
A flood of vomit hit the dirt.
Seconds later, Zephyr wiped his mouth and turned back around, perfectly composed.
"Too much breakfast."
Deadpan.
"Now then. Let me explain how to begin your Rokushiki training, including technique and body mechanics."
"Need my help again, Sensei?" Darren asked.
Zephyr waved him off.
"No. The next part's a bit... dangerous. I wouldn't want you getting hurt."
"Oh."
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Zephyr took a full-strength punch, puked his guts out… then said it was “just too much breakfast.”
What do you think?
A) I believe him. That man doesn’t lie.
B) Nope. He was hanging on by a thread.
C) Both. Too much breakfast and a Darren-level punch.
D) I’d have passed out. Zephyr’s still a beast.
Chapter 153: Chapter 55: Ongoing Instruction
Summary:
“Real strength isn’t shown when you fight—
It’s built in silence, over time, by those willing to teach and those willing to learn.”
Chapter Text
"Oh."
Darren responded with a hint of regret.
"Don't feel discouraged. Your strength is undeniable. With time, you'll catch up to—maybe even surpass me."
Zephyr stood tall, arms folded across his broad chest, a powerful grin on his face.
"What about me? Huh? What about me?!"
Tokikake jumped out from the crowd, eyes wide with hope.
"You?"
Zephyr squinted at him, took in a slow breath, and replied in a low voice:
"You're... clever."
Tokikake: "..."
Zephyr shook his head and turned his attention back to the group. It was time to demonstrate Rokushiki.
He walked over to a thick stone target resting at the field’s edge.
"Shigan—focus your entire body’s force into a single finger. A hardened strike, faster than lightning, strong enough to pierce stone or steel. And yes, flesh."
He flicked the heavy stone target up into the air with one hand.
"More importantly, Shigan teaches you how to concentrate and release power precisely."
He jabbed his finger forward.
Bang!
A clean, narrow hole appeared in the center of the stone. Dust blasted from the back as fragments rained down.
"Next is Rankyaku."
He gave the stone a swift kick into the sky. His boot sliced the air with such force that a sharp, green vacuum blade arced upward and split the stone clean in two.
"As one of Rokushiki's leg techniques, Rankyaku isn’t just a kick. The real strike is the high-speed wind blade created by that motion. It’s a mid-range attack."
"Training in Rankyaku builds your explosive leg power."
"Now—Soru."
Before the word finished leaving his lips, Zephyr vanished.
A second later, he reappeared several dozen meters away.
Darren narrowed his eyes.
That was at least five times faster than his own Soru.
And Zephyr showed no stiffness in movement.
"Soru is executed by stomping the ground dozens of times in an instant, producing a shockwave of momentum. The key isn’t brute strength—it’s frequency."
Zephyr took another step.
This time, he stepped upward—onto the sky.
Each step landed on thin air like climbing invisible stairs.
"Geppo is an advanced form of Soru. You need even faster footwork and total body balance to pull it off. It lets you remain airborne temporarily."
"Mastering Soru and Geppo helps you understand explosive movement, momentum, and rhythm."
As his voice echoed down from above, the broken halves of the target finally began falling to the ground.
"And finally—Kami-e."
Zephyr surged upward using Geppo, met the falling pieces mid-air, twisted, and sent a kick into the fragments. They exploded into hundreds of shards.
Then he vanished again.
This time, he reappeared directly beneath the raining stone storm.
A breathtaking sight unfolded.
Zephyr’s towering frame suddenly moved like flowing paper, swaying and bending with impossible grace.
The fragments fell around him in a deadly shower. And yet—not one touched him.
His body seemed soft and weightless, like paper drifting in wind.
The ground behind him erupted with the impact of the missed debris, craters appearing with every hit.
Silence returned.
Zephyr turned and smiled at the awestruck students.
"Kami-e is a defensive form. You loosen all muscle tension and use air flow to predict attacks, letting your body bend like paper and slip through danger."
"Training in Kami-e enhances your perception and instinctual responses. And more than that—it points directly toward Observation Haki."
He exhaled, letting smoke roll from his cigar.
"You could say Kami-e is a shortcut to awakening that power."
"This—" he gestured around the training field, "—is Rokushiki. Not some simple brawling style. But a system. A complete, evolving training method developed by generations of Marines."
"Use it properly. Build it into your daily routine. Because this is the foundation of real strength—and your only path forward."
His voice rumbled with passion. Smoke curled into the sky.
As a teacher, Zephyr always wanted to spare his students the dead ends he once faced.
"Now. Let me demonstrate the core mechanics of power transfer. Watch carefully."
He began breaking down the internal techniques, from stance to breathing to micro-movements.
Every student paid full attention.
Even Tokikake, usually clowning around, stood still with focus written on his face.
All of them knew: being trained by Zephyr was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Not just a teacher. A former admiral. A legend.
Even one offhand comment from him could change their lives—maybe save them one day in battle.
Darren, too, absorbed every word.
He had pushed his body beyond its limits with sheer will and punishing regimens. But true mastery was still far ahead.
Zephyr's deep, structured guidance gave him insight that raw training never could.
As he watched Zephyr demonstrate, Darren felt a quiet respect bloom inside him.
Only someone like Zephyr—selfless, disciplined—could be the head instructor of the Marines.
If Garp were in charge?
He’d half-ass one move, start digging in his nose, and mutter:
"Come on, isn’t this just common sense?"
But Zephyr?
His name would never fade from the Marines.
He didn’t just train soldiers.
He forged the Golden Generation.
And maybe—just maybe—he was the real hero of the Marines.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 154: Chapter 56: Learned It at First Glance!?
Summary:
“To some, mastery takes years. To others, a single glance.”
Chapter Text
Half an hour had passed, and Zephyr had just finished going over the core mechanics and introductory training of Rokushiki.
After answering the students’ many questions one by one, he wiped the sweat from his face and smiled.
“From here on out, it’s your self-study period. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask this old man.”
The Marines all nodded in unison. They scattered across the training grounds, reflecting intently on the key points Zephyr had explained, then began attempting to practice Rokushiki.
For them, though the techniques of Rokushiki were all designed to help break through the limits of the human body, not everyone trained the same way. Most would focus on mastering one or two forms first, depending on their own strengths and abilities.
Take Dalmatian, for example—a Zoan-type Devil Fruit user. He leaned heavily into Soru and Shigan—techniques centered on sudden bursts and high-speed piercing attacks, which perfectly complemented the speed and claw penetration of his Dog-Dog Fruit.
Meanwhile, officers like Doberman and Yamakaji, both skilled swordsmen, focused more on Tekkai, Rankyaku, and Soru.
Tekkai boosted their defensive resilience in close quarters; Rankyaku, on the other hand, was incredibly similar in nature to flying sword slashes—perfect for blade users. And Soru, of course, was universally valued for its sheer utility and explosiveness.
Without exception, Soru was a foundational technique that every Marine prioritized.
As for Darren, who had already surpassed human limits and achieved a superhuman physique—he trained all six techniques simultaneously.
He moved to an open space nearby and faced a humanoid stone target. Gradually, he closed his eyes, centering himself.
He replayed Zephyr’s explanation in his mind, opening up every sensory channel in his body and fine-tuning his muscle control.
The principle behind Shigan was to channel the entirety of one’s power into a single point. Since true strength came from the legs, Darren subtly adjusted the angle of his boots, anchoring himself like iron nails into the ground.
He sharpened his focus, mentally tracing the activation of each muscle, each bone.
Power rose from his feet to the pelvis. The spine had to stay firm and steady. His whole body twisted like a coil—shoulders, arms, and finally—
A breeze swept across the field. The sun blazed down mercilessly.
But Darren’s mind was calm. Utterly still.
Then—
His eyes snapped open, a razor-sharp glint flashing within.
With a low shout—
He unleashed all the power he had gathered into a single point on his finger, and thrust!
Shigan!
BOOM!!
The stone dummy exploded with a loud crack, dust and gravel bursting outward from a deep hole at the center.
Darren slowly exhaled, the tension draining from his body. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Turns out… Rokushiki’s not as hard to learn as I imagined.”
But as he thought about it, it made sense. His body—strength, explosiveness, stamina, and skeletal structure—had long surpassed the standards Rokushiki was based on. It was only natural that he could master it with ease.
As he looked up, he was met with the sight of dozens of Marines staring at him with their mouths agape.
“What’s with you guys?”
Darren raised a brow, puzzled.
“Darren…”
“You…”
"You mastered Shigan in one try!?”
Everyone, including Doberman and the others, stared at the gaping hole in the target, utterly stunned.
“It’s not that complicated,” Darren replied with a grin. “Just focus all your power into a single point. Anyone can do it.”
Their expressions screamed doubt.
Only a monster like you would call that simple…
“Hahaha! Then let me give it a shot!!”
Kuzan stepped forward, eyes gleaming with excitement.
“I’m not letting you get ahead of me, Darren!!”
He strode confidently to another target and took a deep breath, fully focused.
Everyone’s eyes locked on him.
“Shigan!”
With a sharp shout, his finger lashed out like a cannon.
THUNK!
Dust flew. A finger-sized hole appeared at the center of the stone dummy.
“Hahahaha! I did it!! Darren, did you see that!?”
Kuzan turned toward Darren, face beaming.
He… really did it!?
The onlookers were in an uproar inside, eyes wide with disbelief.
The difficulty of mastering Rokushiki wasn’t low—even many high-ranking officers at Marine Headquarters could only learn one or two forms, using them as tools to push past certain physical limits.
They had heard of stories—legends, really—of freakish talents who could learn Rokushiki just by watching it a few times.
But now that it was happening right in front of their eyes…
It still felt impossible to believe!
That Darren had mastered it? Sure—it was shocking, but not incomprehensible. After all, Darren's strength spoke for itself.
But Kuzan!?
What terrifying talent…
Even Darren’s eyes narrowed in astonishment. He felt a stir of emotion watching Kuzan’s performance.
Far off on a beach chair, Zephyr exhaled a puff of smoke, his eyes shining with pride.
“He really lives up to the ‘monster’ title…”
“Kuzan’s pace is already on par with Sakazuki and Borsalino back in their day.”
“Let me try too!”
A voice suddenly rang out.
The crowd turned to see Tokikake stepping forward, hands on his hips.
He hadn’t enjoyed being completely overshadowed by Darren and Kuzan, and now wanted to reclaim some of the spotlight.
Everyone watched in silence as Tokikake walked up to the dummy.
No way… did he also master Shigan this quickly?
Feeling all eyes on him—especially Gion’s—Tokikake couldn’t help but feel a little smug.
Shigan, huh?
Can’t be that hard, right?
Striking a pose he thought looked cool, he inhaled deeply.
Just like Darren and Kuzan, he lashed out with his finger toward the center of the target.
CRACK!
A sharp, horrible sound rang out.
“TSSSSSS!!”
Everyone simultaneously winced.
The stone dummy stood untouched. But Tokikake’s finger… was now bent 90 degrees backwards.
Several Marines involuntarily pulled their own hands away, their faces twitching in sympathy.
Tokikake’s face turned ghostly pale—but he quickly composed himself.
Calmly, he clasped his hands behind his back to hide the injury and said with a deadpan expression:
“Hmph. Just loosening the joints. Haven’t moved in a while.”
Everyone: “…”
Zephyr groaned and covered his face in agony.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 155: Chapter 57: The Meaning of Being First
Summary:
“The one who leads doesn’t do so with words—but by walking ten steps ahead where no one else dares.”
Chapter Text
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
In the newly built Teaching Building of the training camp...
Top floor — Kendo club.
BANG!
Two figures flashed across the dojo in a blur, their movements lightning-fast, both executing Soru, one of the Rokushiki techniques focused on high-speed motion.
A splintered piece of a wooden sword’s tip spun into the air before clattering to the ground.
Yamakaji stood frozen, staring down at the broken training blade in his hand. A bitter smile crept to his lips.
“I’ve lost again, Commander Gion.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to face the tall figure in an indigo-blue kendo uniform. His voice carried sincere admiration.
“You really do deserve the praise from Admiral Sengoku and Instructor Zephyr. A true genius of the sword.”
Gion removed her face guard, collecting her wooden blade. Strands of sweat-damp hair clung to her cheek, but it only accentuated her clear, elegant beauty.
“You flatter me, Captain Yamakaji,” she replied with a soft smile.
Then, both stepped forward, bowing formally in sync.
“Thank you for the match.”
It was the way of the sword.
Just as the two prepared to rest, a low rumble echoed from far beyond the dojo windows.
“It’s started again…”
Yamakaji sighed and stepped toward the window, peering out.
In the distance, across the vast training grounds, sand and dust whipped through the air.
A lone, towering figure moved steadily through the blazing midday sun—shirtless, sweat glistening on his scar-covered muscles. He was dragging, inch by inch, a massive decommissioned warship by hand, its hull tethered to thick black iron chains clutched in his fists.
The heat was unbearable. The world outside seemed to boil under the sun’s unforgiving glare.
The man's bronzed skin shimmered with sweat, highlighting the sharp contours of his body.
What shocked Yamakaji most was that with each step the man took, the ground beneath him trembled. Dust and grit bounced lightly with every motion.
A ship so heavy it normally required hundreds of men to pull—was being dragged forward by a single man. Its keel carved a deep trench into the dry earth.
From a distance, the three-meter-tall man seemed no bigger than an ant beside the twenty-meter-tall ship.
“Commander Gion… was Darren training like this even back when he was stationed in the North Blue?”
Yamakaji’s throat was dry as he spoke.
He still remembered the first time he’d witnessed Darren training in private—everyone in the camp had been stunned. Even the battle-hardened Zephyr had looked like he’d seen a ghost.
And yet, even now… the sight was just as overwhelming.
“No.”
Gion’s gaze remained locked on the monstrous figure radiating the wild presence of a beast. Her voice was soft, conflicted.
“...What?”
Yamakaji blinked and turned to her.
“In the North Blue,” she said, “the ship he dragged was only half that size.”
Yamakaji: “…”
He gulped audibly.
“Don’t let it get to you.”
Gion caught the look of frustration and dismay in his eyes and tried to reassure him.
“That guy’s a monster.”
Yamakaji let out a weary sigh and nodded.
Gion pulled off her indigo uniform top and walked out of the dojo, leaving him alone.
Silence.
Then… Yamakaji chuckled to himself.
“You say ‘don’t let it get to you’… but clearly, it gets to you too.”
From below, he could hear the sounds of heavy weights being lifted.
It was Gion—training further, working on her physical strength after an intense kendo match.
Taking a deep breath, Yamakaji wrapped the bloodied blisters on his palms with fresh bandages. He picked up a new wooden sword… and resumed his training.
Sweat poured like rain. Blood seeped through the bandages.
But he didn’t stop.
He immersed himself in swordsmanship, grinding forward on the path of strength.
---
At the same time—
Inside the Combat training hall—
Soaked in sweat, Kuzan watched the figure in the distance with admiration gleaming in his eyes.
“Damn, Darren… you're seriously cool. I gotta step it up too.”
He turned to Tokikake, who lay crumpled on the ground nearby—bruised, battered, and panting like a dog.
“Let’s keep going.”
Tokikake let out a soul-wrenching wail.
“You can train all you want! Just don’t drag me into it!!”
---
And it wasn’t just them.
In the armory, the endurance gym, the strength chambers—across the entire camp—
Marines clenched their jaws and pushed harder.
That man—Darren—who was already inhumanly strong, continued to train like a beast day after day, rain or shine, never missing a beat.
Their top student wasn’t resting—so how could they afford to?
---
Chief Instructor’s Office.
“Did you hear that, Sengoku?”
Zephyr smiled proudly at the man before him.
Sengoku, listening with Observation Haki, could hear the deep tremors and shifting weight from across the field. His expression turned contemplative.
“It’s not just strength,” he said. “He’s inspiring the others too. Mentally, spiritually… he’s leading them forward.”
“Maybe this is what it really means to be number one.”
Sengoku sighed.
“Who would've thought Darren would transform the training camp like this…”
Zephyr let out a snort, his smile twitching slightly.
He still remembered the first generation of the training camp—chaos incarnate.
Sakazuki had cut his training short, eager to hunt down pirates, taking a squad of like-minded brutes with him.
The rest? With Borsalino as top student… their so-called training was basically child’s play.
“Maybe… this class will be the strongest we’ve ever had.”
Zephyr chuckled.
“By the way, Sengoku—what brings you to my office today?”
Sengoku waved a hand casually.
“Nothing much. Just wanted to check in on the trainees…”
He paused. His voice grew cautious.
“How’s Darren’s progress been lately?”
“Not bad,” Zephyr replied easily. “That kid trains like a man possessed. His mastery of Armament Haki’s improving fast—and its strength is increasing steadily. You saw it yourself—he trains like a damn wild beast. But… wait.”
Zephyr’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Why do you care? You never ask about the training camp. What are you scheming this time?”
Caught red-handed, Sengoku gave a sheepish smile and coughed.
“Well… truth is, I have a special mission. And I need to borrow someone.”
Zephyr’s eyes darkened.
“Who?”
“Darren.”
“Absolutely not!”
“…”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 156: Chapter 58: A Sudden Mission
Summary:
"Strength is not just what you build in solitude, but what you're willing to carry into the fire."
Chapter Text
Sengoku’s smile froze on his face. His expression twitched.
Oi, oi… Zephyr, you old bastard, did you have to shut me down that fast?
Not even a shred of consideration for a Marine admiral?
“Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in that devious little brain of yours,” Zephyr said lazily, lighting a cigar as he squinted at Sengoku. “Darren is my adjutant.”
“You’ve already got Borsalino.”
Sengoku nearly coughed up blood.
“Don’t mention that guy to me!”
He took a deep breath, forcing down the rising irritation.
“Zephyr, this mission has nothing to do with who Darren serves under. Whether he chooses to remain your adjutant or not is his own decision. But this operation—this specific mission—we need Darren’s help.”
Zephyr glanced at him. Sengoku’s serious tone wasn’t an act.
He frowned.
“What kind of problem can’t be handled on your side? You’ve got plenty of senior officers at HQ—why Darren, of all people?”
“Sengoku, you know just as well as I do—this training phase is the most critical period for elite officers. Their power grows the fastest here. It’s essential for Darren’s future development.”
“If you need someone powerful, why not call Sakazuki, Dragon, or Borsalino? They’ve all matured, and each of them is on the verge of reaching admiral-level combat ability.”
“Darren’s still in his growth phase. Sending him on a dangerous mission right now... isn’t wise.”
Zephyr shook his head, clearly against the idea.
Technically speaking, the training camp wasn’t fully closed off—participants weren’t restricted from taking assignments. After all, these weren’t clueless recruits. They were hand-picked from across the world, battle-tested elite Marines. Occasionally, field deployment was part of the curriculum.
But over the past month, Zephyr had watched Darren’s growth with increasing shock.
He was like an endless sponge—soaking up everything: training, techniques, theory. Compared to the day he arrived, his strength had skyrocketed.
Zephyr had only seen this level of explosive growth in Sakazuki and Borsalino—but even they didn’t grow this fast.
It was obvious: Darren had already built an immense foundation back in the North Blue. Now, with Zephyr’s guidance, that groundwork was erupting—exploding into exponential gains.
It was the very definition of “slow build, sudden leap.”
And Zephyr had no intention of interrupting that momentum.
There’d be plenty of chances in the future to hunt pirates. This wasn’t the time.
To him, Darren didn’t need to get entangled in HQ affairs—doing so would defeat the very purpose of the training camp.
As his teacher, Zephyr was determined to act in Darren’s best interest.
“I understand your concern, Zephyr,” Sengoku said gravely. “But this mission… it’s a problematic target.”
“And you know better than anyone—training alone isn’t enough. Real growth requires battle. Actual combat.”
Seeing Zephyr still frowning, he added, “Why don’t we just ask Darren? Let him decide. He knows himself better than anyone.”
Zephyr had no choice but to nod.
He could shut it down completely, but Sengoku was an admiral. If he was going this far, Zephyr had to at least pretend to play fair.
If worse comes to worst, I’ll just talk Darren out of it later…
---
Training Field.
The midday sun pierced the sky like blades, scorching every inch of exposed skin.
Beads of sweat hit the dirt and vanished instantly, evaporating into the dry, cracked earth.
THUD!
A thick iron chain slammed against the ground, kicking up sand and soil.
Darren stood, chest heaving, his breath ragged and hoarse like a bellows.
But his face was lit with pure satisfaction.
This past month had been… fulfilling.
No naval bureaucracy. No fake smiles or political backstabbing. Just pure, honest days of sweat, training, and comradeship—rivalry and encouragement mingled in every glance.
Cut off from the noise of military life, Darren had immersed himself entirely in his own growth.
And under Zephyr’s teaching, with more refined training methods and focused techniques, he had finally made a breakthrough.
His Observation Haki hadn’t improved much—but everything else had.
His stats had surged:
Physique: 69.335
Strength: 66.331
Speed: 66.591
Devil Fruit: 76.111
Armament Haki: 28.319
Each of the four core physical metrics—body, strength, speed, and fruit ability—had increased by at least two points in just a month.
It was a terrifying amount of growth.
Two points might not sound like much on paper, but across all stats? Nearly 10 points in total.
In terms of actual combat, that was easily a 20% boost in power.
Of course, Darren was aware that this rate of progress would slow over time. His body was already adapting to the intensity of the new regimen—and in the past few days, he had started to notice it taper off.
Still, there were other gains.
With Zephyr’s help, his understanding of Armament Haki had deepened significantly. For the first time, there was a formal standard to measure its strength.
Darren looked down at his blistered, callused hands and muttered.
“Hardening.”
FSSSH.
A jet-black sheen spread across his arm like liquid iron, coating his hand with a weighty, metallic density.
If 100 was the full mastery score, Zephyr’s Armament Haki was estimated to sit around 90.
His own? 28.
It wasn’t much—yet. But for someone who had just learned the ability a month ago, it was an absurdly fast progression.
And Darren had seen what full mastery looked like.
He had watched Garp and Sengoku fight at full power.
Based on his observations, Sengoku’s Armament Haki strength sat between 80–85, while Garp was on par with Zephyr—90+, bolstered by his Conqueror’s Haki, which gave him an edge in sheer force.
Just then, a figure jogged across the training field.
He came to a stop and saluted.
“Commodore Darren, Instructor Zephyr is requesting your presence!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 157: Chapter 59: It’s Been a Long Time Since We Fought Side by Side
Summary:
“We don't choose when duty calls—only whether we answer with fear, or fire.”
Chapter Text
Three minutes later.
Now wearing a clean Marine uniform, Darren knocked at the Chief Instructor’s Office.
“Instructor Zephyr, you called for me?”
The moment he stepped inside, he noticed someone else already seated on the couch—Admiral Sengoku, who was watching him with a calm, confident smile.
“Admiral Sengoku.”
Darren paused, then immediately straightened up and gave a crisp salute.
Zephyr had long retired as a Marine Admiral and their relationship within the training camp was informal—teacher and student more than superior and subordinate.
But Sengoku was different. As an active Marine Admiral, he was technically Darren’s direct superior.
Formalities had to be observed.
“Mmh. Darren, how’s your training going? Any problems?”
Zephyr smiled, his eyes brimming with undisguised pride and satisfaction.
“No issues for now,” Darren replied with a light smile. “The material you've provided is deep and comprehensive. I’ll need time to fully digest it.”
What a smooth talker, Zephyr thought, grinning even wider. Then he cast a smug glance at Sengoku, as if to say:
See? His growth is thanks to my guidance.
Sengoku rolled his eyes.
Childish.
Darren turned politely toward Sengoku.
“It’s been a while, Admiral. You’re looking as formidable as ever.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” Sengoku beamed, his face blooming like a proud old chrysanthemum.
Zephyr: “…”
Sengoku coughed twice and sat upright, his smile fading into seriousness.
“Darren. I came here today specifically to find you. There’s an urgent mission.”
...A mission?
Darren’s brows furrowed slightly.
Unlike the closed, rigid academies of the modern Marine era, the current training camp wasn’t bound by such strict isolation. Elite officers-in-training were sometimes sent on missions as needed.
Still, for the sake of training quality, such deployments were rare.
Darren asked calmly, “Admiral Sengoku, what kind of mission?”
Sengoku’s voice grew low.
“For security reasons, I can’t disclose the full details unless you agree to take the assignment.”
“But I can tell you this—”
He leaned forward, voice grave.
“The target is extremely powerful. Brutal, blood-soaked, utterly ruthless. The death toll left in his wake is… beyond count.”
“According to our analysts, his combat strength may be approaching that of the ‘World Destroyer’—Byrnndi World.”
Darren’s frown deepened.
“So… you’re asking me to accept a mission where I don’t even know who the target is—only that he’s nearly on par with Byrnndi World?”
Sengoku stiffened slightly, then nodded.
He knew it was a tall ask. That’s why he had hoped Zephyr would back him up.
Zephyr chuckled.
“Don’t worry, Darren. If you’d rather not go, just say the word. It won’t affect anything.”
“Right now, your training and growth are far more important.”
But Sengoku quickly cut in, voice tinged with urgency.
“Darren, your Devil Fruit ability is uniquely suited to counter this enemy. That’s the reason I came to you.”
“Also—you won’t be alone. You’ll be acting as a second-in-command. The actual mission leader has already been assigned.”
“For you, this mission is high risk—but still manageable. Nowhere near the level of danger as the World operation.”
My ability can counter the target?
Darren fell into thought, mind racing through all possible matches.
He wasn’t reckless—after facing Roger’s blade firsthand, he fully understood how far away he still was from the true monsters of the sea.
He was still in a crucial growth phase.
Staying here and strengthening himself was the logical choice—unless…
Unless the target truly matches Sengoku’s description.
Nearly as strong as Byrnndi World…
Violent. Bloodthirsty…
And this point in time…
A name began to form in Darren’s mind—fuzzy at first, but rapidly sharpening.
“Admiral Sengoku,” he said finally, “if I accept… who is the mission commander?”
Zephyr looked up, surprised by the question.
Before Sengoku could answer, a low, gravelly voice came from behind.
“I am.”
The office door had somehow opened without a sound.
A gust of frigid air swept into the room, laced with the smell of gunpowder and iron.
Darren’s eyes widened slightly.
He turned slowly—
Standing there was a towering Marine in a peaked cap. His face was cold, stoic—his presence, overwhelming.
Sakazuki.
“So?” the man asked coolly. “You in, Darren?”
Darren stared at him.
Sakazuki stared back, just as emotionless.
One second…
Two…
Three…
Then Darren’s lips curved into a grin—arrogant and unshakable.
“It’s been a while since we fought side by side, Rear Admiral Sakazuki.”
---
“SENGOKU, YOU BASTARD!! THIS IS CHEATING!!”
The moment Darren left with Sakazuki, Zephyr snapped.
He slammed his palm on the desk, beard bristling in rage.
“You never said the mission commander was Sakazuki!”
What a damn setup!
Darren had once been Sakazuki’s adjutant back in the North Blue. There was no way he could refuse his former superior face to face!
Sengoku lounged on the couch, nibbling on rice crackers and scratching his ear.
“Did I forget to mention that?”
He gave a lazy chuckle.
“Haha… not important.”
Zephyr’s eye twitched.
He knew Sengoku was sly—but this was downright underhanded!
“There are plenty of capable Vice Admirals in HQ! Why Darren?!”
“And if the target’s so dangerous—why aren’t you handling it yourself, Admiral?!”
At that, Sengoku suddenly sobered.
He set the cracker down, voice darkening.
“Because something even more dangerous is happening.”
He wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with intensity.
“According to intelligence from Garp… the Roger Pirates have entered the New World.”
“And by tracking the Oro Jackson’s heading, it looks like Roger intends to meet Whitebeard.”
Zephyr’s expression shifted immediately.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 158: Chapter 60: To See It Once More
Summary:
"Some legends retreat into memory. Others... come back to burn it all down."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Though Zephyr had long stepped down from the frontlines—retiring from his post as Marine Admiral—he still kept an eye on the legendary pirates who once shook the Grand Line: Roger, Whitebeard, Shiki.
He had fought them before.
And he understood better than most just how dangerous they truly were.
“They’re meeting face to face?”
Zephyr’s brows knit tightly. His face turned grim.
Unlike Shiki—whose ambition burned like wildfire—Roger and Whitebeard had no interest in world domination.
But after the battle at God Valley, they’d clashed more than once. Each encounter shook the seas—sundering landmasses, sinking islands.
Still, their battles had never been out of hatred. They were sparked by pride, curiosity, or simple challenge.
There was a strange mutual respect between them—a grudging acknowledgment of each other’s strength.
If Roger and Shiki met, blood would spill without question.
But Roger and Whitebeard?
That was harder to read.
If they ever came to an agreement…
Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose, voice low.
“We don’t know for sure. But their ships are moving in converging routes… The World Government is getting uneasy.”
“Since God Valley, Roger’s been sailing nonstop across the world. The Gorosei are beginning to suspect he’s searching for something.”
As Sengoku spoke, the light reflecting from his black-rimmed glasses flashed sharply.
“That’s why, Zephyr… I need to head to the New World myself. I’m going to rendezvous with Garp.”
“Roger and Whitebeard teaming up is unlikely. But if something goes wrong, I can’t let Garp face them alone.”
“No one—no matter how strong—can handle both those monsters at once.”
Zephyr was silent for a long time.
Then shook his head.
“No. Whitebeard won’t get involved. Not if Roger’s chasing something big.”
“I’ve fought Whitebeard enough times. He’s not a man driven by conquest.”
“All he wants… is to protect his ‘family.’”
Sengoku glanced over, then let out a soft sigh.
“I hope you're right. But either way, I need to prepare.”
“I’ll be taking most of the strike force with me—including Borsalino.”
“If there were any other option, I wouldn't have asked Darren to take on that mission.”
“But that’s all for now. I need to depart.”
He stood, preparing to leave.
But as he reached the door, he paused.
“Zephyr. What I said last time—I meant it.”
His back was to Zephyr now, the Marine coat draped across his shoulders. The black kanji for Justice weighed heavy in the light.
“This era… it won’t wait for us.”
“And right now—I need my comrades beside me.”
Zephyr stared at Sengoku’s broad, tired back.
At that shining white cloak.
He smiled, faintly.
“Sengoku… haven’t I always been fighting beside you?”
Sengoku froze.
Then, slowly, he understood.
He said nothing more.
Only turned and left.
—
The road to the war port was long and bright.
Sunlight bathed the ground in a blinding glare, but Sengoku’s mind felt heavy.
Zephyr… are you really content with this?
The man once known as “Black Arm”—one of the strongest Marines to ever live—reduced to some old instructor in a crumbling schoolhouse?
I know what you’re trying to say.
That you’ll stay behind. That you’ll raise the next generation. That this is your final mission.
That this… is your way of fighting beside us.
Even if you're no longer by our side.
But still…
Sengoku exhaled deeply and raised his head toward the burning sun.
His fists clenched tight.
“…I just want to see you like you were—once more.”
“Leading the charge. With fire in your eyes.”
He whispered.
—
A battleship cut through the ocean at steady speed, leaving a long white wake in its path.
On the deck, Sakazuki stood at the bow, arms folded, eyes narrowed against the horizon.
A lit cigar hung from his mouth. Smoke twisted upward, only to be torn apart by the sea wind and carried off with his Marine cloak.
“So. Who’s the target this time?”
Darren stepped up beside him, lighting his own cigar. His eyes remained calm.
Sakazuki took a dossier from a young Marine and handed it to him.
“Half a month ago, in a nation along the Grand Line known as the ‘Land of Endless War (Galzburg)’… something happened.”
His tone was flat. Clipped.
“A country that’s been engulfed in war for generations. Overnight, its entire military—tens of thousands of soldiers—was slaughtered.”
“Not just the army. Nobles, commoners. No one was spared.”
“The World Government initially believed it was a massive pirate attack—someone with the destructive power of Byrnndi World.”
“Only large pirate crews tend to leave that level of annihilation in their wake.”
“But then our investigation uncovered the truth.”
A cold smirk curled at the corner of Sakazuki’s lips.
“The one who destroyed that nation… wasn’t a pirate.”
“Or a criminal from the underworld.”
“It was a soldier.”
“A single soldier from the nation’s own military.”
Darren exhaled a long stream of smoke, flipping open the file.
His gaze fell on a photo—blond hair, sharp eyes, clad in a tattered military coat.
And he spoke the name before Sakazuki could.
“Douglas Bullet.”
Of course.
That was the only possibility.
A man whose raw strength rivaled Byrnndi World. A threat grave enough to unnerve both Sengoku and Sakazuki.
Appearing now, in this era.
Douglas Bullet—former crew member of the Roger Pirates, said to have once fought Silvers Rayleigh to a standstill.
The so-called “Demon Heir.”
But the real question was…
How strong was he now?
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Guys, if you’ve made it this far—thank you.
You’ve walked beside Darren through training, rivalry, and the slow burn of rising strength.
But now?
Now the ocean shifts.
We’re stepping into one of the most unforgettable arcs in The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History.
Not just in scale—but in spirit.
Because this is where challenge stops being theoretical.
And becomes survival.
He’s danced with death before.
He will again.
But when the fire gets this close—
That’s when you find out what kind of man you really are.
Moments like these don’t just test the body.
They test the soul.
Let the next arc begin.
Welcome to the storm.
Chapter 159: Chapter 61: The Meeting
Summary:
“When legends move, the sea itself holds its breath.”
Chapter Text
Douglas Bullet—known in whispers as the Demon Heir. A name etched in Marine records with blood and fire.
A former member of the Roger Pirates, his strength during the Pirate King’s era was said to rival even Silvers Rayleigh, the Dark King.
But once Bullet learned of Roger’s terminal illness, his faith in the captain shattered. He left the crew, spiraled into chaos, and unleashed havoc across the seas.
It took a full Buster Call, even the combined might of Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Garp, to finally subdue him. He was locked away in the bottom of Impel Down—Level Six, Eternal Hell.
Years later, during the chaos of the Summit War, Bullet escaped in the same riot that saw Blackbeard and Luffy shatter Impel Down’s order. He returned to the world two years later, hosting the Pirates Festival, defeating Supernovas like children.
Only to fall at the end, crushed by the force of narrative and the fists of the Sun God…
Darren’s eyes narrowed as he studied the photo. A blond-haired soldier with cruel, military-hardened eyes stared back from the page—jaw clenched, posture rigid.
He glanced at Sakazuki.
Even though this version of Bullet hadn’t yet joined the Roger Pirates—and had only just annihilated his homeland—if his strength already rivaled Rayleigh’s…
This mission might be too much for the two of them alone.
After all, Sakazuki wasn’t yet at his peak. His current power was far from that of a future admiral.
“Douglas Bullet,” Sakazuki said coldly. “He destroyed his own nation’s military singlehandedly. Word of it has shaken the royal courts of several World Government nations.”
“To prevent widespread panic, the Government has ordered an absolute information blackout on everything concerning him.”
“That’s why Admiral Sengoku couldn’t tell you the target up front.”
Darren nodded. That made sense.
The World Government always tried to erase threats of this magnitude—to hide them before fear could spread. That was their standard response to monsters like Bullet.
“What about his combat evaluation?” Darren asked after a pause. “Do we have any intel beyond the destruction?”
Sakazuki shook his head.
“All we know is that he possesses the power to erase a nation.”
“Five days ago, a Vice Admiral, an entire battleship, and several hundred Marines attempted to arrest him.”
“They were completely annihilated.”
“But you know what that means.”
Darren nodded grimly.
In the Blues or even the first half of the Grand Line, that level of force would be overwhelming.
But when facing monsters at the top?
That wasn’t even close to a real test.
Much of what the Marines knew about the world’s strongest pirates came at the cost of lives—each report written in blood.
He exhaled slowly.
So the truth is… HQ doesn’t even know how strong Bullet really is.
Sakazuki caught the tension in Darren’s gaze and snorted.
“You’re being cautious. That’s not like you.”
Darren cracked a smile.
“No. I’m just wondering—how strong are you now, Sakazuki?”
The man didn’t respond right away.
He simply turned back to the sea.
The brim of his Marine cap cast a shadow over his eyes.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“When the time comes—just keep him from using that damn submarine. Don’t let him escape.”
---
Meanwhile…
New World.
“They’re here!!”
“Pops, they’re coming!!”
“The Oro Jackson!!”
On the deck of the massive Moby Dick, the Whitebeard Pirates erupted with shouts. Crew members leaned over the railings, eyes wide.
In the distance, a pirate ship with golden trim and blood-red sails sliced through the sea like a crimson blade. Wind filled the sails, which bore a golden skull with a sweeping mustache.
The Oro Jackson.
The Roger Pirates had arrived.
“Finally, huh… Roger.”
On the throne-like seat at the center of the deck, Whitebeard grinned. His massive body seemed to swallow the chair whole, his aura heavy as the sea itself.
“Bridge!”
The two ships connected within moments. The Oro Jackson slammed alongside the Moby Dick, and a thick gangplank dropped between them.
Marco leaned on the railing, pineapple-blond hair tousled by wind.
“Hey! All rookies, inside now! Avoid the—”
THUD!
Behind him, one of the newer crew members rolled his eyes back and collapsed.
Then a second.
A third.
One by one, the weaker crewmen keeled over—fainting as he approached.
Footsteps echoed across the gangplank.
The moment he stepped aboard the Moby Dick, the entire deck groaned. Faint cracks split beneath his boots.
Only the division commanders remained standing.
“Hahahahaha!”
“It’s been a while, Whitebeard!!”
A man in a blood-red captain’s coat and hat stepped forward, laughing like thunder.
The sheer force of his presence made the sky swirl. Winds roared. Waves churned. In the heavens above, red-black lightning crackled and vanished.
On the Oro Jackson, Silvers Rayleigh sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples.
“I told him no fighting this time…”
The rest of the crew remained on edge—because they knew their captain. Once he got excited, nothing could hold him back.
“W-We’re screwed!” Buggy wailed, clutching his head. “That’s Whitebeard!! We’re gonna die!!”
Next to him, Shanks trembled with awe. His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed red, fists clenched tight.
To stand like that—in front of Whitebeard, the world’s strongest man—unshaken, unyielding, smiling…
That image carved itself deep into Shanks’ young heart.
One day…
He’d become a man like that.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 160: Chapter 62: The End of the Sea
Summary:
“When titans meet, the world must hold its breath—
but even titans cannot escape the weight of time.”
Chapter Text
Black-red lightning crackled in the void, flickering in and out of existence. The sea erupted in massive, rolling waves, and high above, the clouds swirled together at a visible speed, gathering into a colossal black vortex that blotted out the sky.
Roaring gales surged through the thunder-filled air, pressing down on everyone aboard the Moby Dick. Even the strongest turned pale, and the weaker among them buckled under the overwhelming pressure that pierced straight into their souls—falling to one knee, gasping for breath.
Marco and the others stared in alarm at Roger, whose body was now engulfed in arcs of black-red lightning. Their teeth clenched, a chill crawling up their spines.
That overwhelming aura—so lofty and commanding, as if standing above the world…
No matter how many times they’d witnessed it, it still shook them to their core!
“Oi, oi, oi—blasting your Haki around the moment we meet? That’s a nasty habit, you know!”
From his throne-like seat on the ship, Whitebeard finally spoke, his tone tinged with irritation.
And the moment his voice dropped, his golden eyes snapped open. A titanic aura surged out from his burly frame with a deafening roar.
CRACKLE!!
Black lightning burst into being with a thunderous roar, raging in defiance.
Two immense forces—unfathomably deep and terrifying—clashed in the air between Roger and Whitebeard.
It was like watching the abyss collide with the abyss.
Black lightning shot skyward in a blinding torrent. A colossal column of shock force punched through the clouds overhead.
The sea of clouds shattered, reformed, shattered again—over and over.
The world itself changed color.
In the eyes of the pirates watching in horror, reality seemed to twist and invert. Color drained from the world, leaving only stark black and white.
A tremor like an earthquake roared out from the Moby Dick and the Oro Jackson.
Towering tsunamis—dozens of meters tall—rose and overlapped. Centered around the two pirate ships, they surged outward in every direction, engulfing the surrounding seas for tens of nautical miles.
And then—at that very moment—
The two legends who had unleashed this awe-inspiring clash… moved.
CLANG!!
Two Supreme Grade Blades were drawn in unison. In a single breath, Whitebeard and Roger leapt from their places and brought down their weapons.
A moment of absolute silence followed.
Black-red lightning compressed violently between the two peerless weapons, forming a dense sphere of energy. The howling wind tore the captain’s hats from their heads—black and golden hair alike whipped wildly in the storm.
Amidst the flashing thunder, their faces lit up—grins wide and wild with battlelust.
“Hahahahaha! Newgate!! Other than Garp, you’re the only one who can make my blood boil like this!!”
Roger’s laughter rang out, his grin filled with childlike delight—like a boy reunited with his favorite toy.
“After all this time, and the first thing you do is swing your sword at me…
Is that your idea of a greeting, Roger?”
Whitebeard’s eyes blazed with fighting spirit, his white captain’s coat flaring behind him.
And then—
“Roger! That’s enough!! Don’t forget why we’re here!!”
Rayleigh’s voice thundered from the deck of the Moby Dick.
“Pops!! If you keep this up, our ship’s gonna sink!!”
Marco yelled, desperate.
As their voices rang out, the energy compressed between the two Supreme Blades could no longer hold.
BOOM!!
A blinding flash of white consumed the sky, turning the blackened heavens into day for an instant.
An even greater storm surged forth—the sea shrieking as if in pain, forced to bow before the wills of two kings.
No one knew how long it lasted.
But eventually… peace returned.
The waves calmed. The ocean once again turned a clear, deep blue.
As Roger and Whitebeard slowly sheathed their weapons, both crews exhaled in deep relief—deliberately ignoring the massive rift now torn across the sky above them.
They’d long since grown numb to such things.
“Che! What a buzzkill.”
Roger muttered as he slid his sword back into its scabbard, clearly annoyed—but the sharp glare from Rayleigh made him shrink back instantly.
Whitebeard, too, looked back at his sons with disapproval—only to be cut off by Marco’s pointed remark:
“We don’t have the money to fix the ship, you know.”
He swallowed the words in his throat with a bitter snort.
Seeing the stubborn looks on their captains’ faces, both Marco and Rayleigh couldn’t help twitching at the corners of their mouths.
These damn old men...
The same thought echoed in their minds.
And then, as if sharing in each other’s pain, they exchanged an apologetic smile.
“So tell me, Roger—what brings you here, really?”
Whitebeard reached for a massive jug of sake—nearly half a man’s height—and poured Roger a bowl so large it could drown a fish. Sitting down heavily, he took a swig and asked, impatient.
Roger’s face lit up at the sight of alcohol. He grinned, downed the whole bowl in one long gulp, and shamelessly pushed the empty bowl back toward Whitebeard.
“No rush. It’s been a while—we should drink first.”
Watching his eager expression and empty cup, Whitebeard couldn’t help wondering if the bastard had run out of money and come here just to mooch some booze.
With a sigh, he refilled Roger’s bowl, then added pointedly:
“Our time is short. Garp and Sengoku have already led their elites into the New World. It took some work to shake them off.”
Whitebeard didn’t fear Garp or Sengoku—but if he could avoid clashing with the Marine’s main force, he preferred to.
Partly because the Marine’s strength was no joke—backed by the World Government, any battle would drag out endlessly with no real benefit.
And more importantly…
He didn’t want to see his “sons” hurt or killed.
Even with all his strength, if it came to all-out war with the Marine, he couldn’t guarantee every one of his crew would make it out alive.
Unlike the reckless man before him, who ran wild across the seas without a care in the world…
Whitebeard had grown too powerful, too rooted. With vast territories and countless crew members under his protection, he bore a weighty responsibility.
One that bound him more than any chain.
“What’s there to fear? Worst case, we throw down and have a grand old fight.”
Roger laughed, unfazed.
CLANG!
Rayleigh smacked him across the head with a hand chop, raising a smoking welt.
“Talk.”
His teeth clenched as he spoke.
Roger winced in pain, rubbing his head as his expression slowly turned serious.
“Newgate…
You know I’ve been searching for the end of this sea…”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 161: Chapter 63: The Great Treasure
Summary:
“Some chase treasure. Others, freedom.
But the greatest journey… is knowing which one you already hold.”
Chapter Text
White seagulls glided across the clear blue sky, their cries echoing faintly in the still air.
Two pirate ships, one large and one small, rested silently upon the sea, as if listening to the ocean's quiet breath.
“…The Poneglyphs?”
Whitebeard raised an eyebrow as Roger finished his explanation.
He took a casual swig from his sake jug, his deep voice rumbling:
“All those things are just some old stones no one can read. What do they have to do with the end of the sea?”
Roger, now visibly tipsy and flushed with drink, shook his head insistently.
“No. After that great battle years ago, I used a Eternal Pose we recovered from God Valley. It led me to Lodestar Island…”
“But when we arrived, the island was completely barren. And the Log Pose—completely lost its reading. It spun aimlessly, refusing to point the way forward. Rayleigh and I both agreed: there had to be another island beyond Lodestar Island. Only by reaching that place could we complete the journey.”
Roger leaned in, his voice dropping low, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
“All these years, I’ve searched this sea. And I finally found a clue to that last island—it’s hidden within the Poneglyphs.”
“The Poneglyphs contain the secrets and truths of history. And I discovered that four ancient red stones record the coordinates to that final island.”
“I’ve taken to calling them… Road Poneglyphs. Only by finding all four can you uncover the path to the legendary end of the sea.”
“And there…”
Roger’s eyes sparkled with longing.
“…lies the One Piece.”
But Whitebeard merely shrugged, unimpressed by Roger’s excitement.
“So what?”
Roger stared at him in disbelief.
“What do you mean ‘so what’!? Aren’t you curious what’s at the end of the Grand Line?!”
“That’s the final island! Isn’t that the whole reason we set sail in the first place—to find the truth of this world? That’s real freedom… real dreams!”
Whitebeard rolled his neck and took another heavy gulp of sake.
“Roger, I don’t give a damn about some so-called great treasure.”
“If you want it, go find it yourself.”
He turned his eyes toward the curious gazes of Marco and the others, who were peeking over from the nearby deck. Despite the alcohol haze in his eyes, a warm, gentle smile slowly crept across his face.
“I’ve already found my One Piece.”
The sea breeze rustled softly. Under the golden sunlight, Whitebeard’s long blond hair danced in the wind.
Roger gazed silently at him—at that content, satisfied smile. And for a moment, he had nothing to say.
“…I see.”
After a long pause, he exhaled deeply, laughing softly.
“Damn… I envy you. You’ve already achieved your dream.”
Whitebeard chuckled and looked away, though a faint red gleam flickered in his eyes.
“You should get going, Roger.”
Roger nodded.
Through his Observation Haki, he could already sense them—two Marine battleships had entered the surrounding waters. Powerful, looming presences flickered aboard them.
Garp and Sengoku had caught up—with the full force of the Marines.
Roger raised his sake bowl with a dazzling grin.
“Well then! Next time we meet—let’s have a proper, knock-down, drag-out fight!”
Whitebeard laughed, lifting the massive sake jug in return.
“No problem.”
They locked eyes and smiled.
Clink!
The bowl and jug met midair with a resounding chime, echoing of freedom and dreams under the golden sun.
Both drank deep.
BOOM… BOOM… BOOM!
Suddenly, dull explosions echoed from the distance. Black cannonballs rained down into the waters around the two ships, blasting up towering columns of seawater.
“Enemy attack!!”
“Pops!! It’s the Marines!!”
“Captain Roger! The Marines are here!!”
The sea roiled violently as both ships rocked hard. Crew members from both the Whitebeard and Roger Pirates shouted in alarm.
“Hahahaha! Newgate! Until next time!”
Roger laughed and stood tall.
Whitebeard rose from the deck as well, watching Roger step onto the gangplank with a smile.
“Don’t let Garp catch you now.”
Roger snorted over his shoulder.
“Catch me? Don’t be ridiculous—I’m strong, remember?”
He flexed his bicep proudly.
“Oh?” Whitebeard grinned with amusement, his eyes narrowing.
“But didn’t I hear you got your ass handed to you by some Marine brat? Lost your pants and everything?”
Roger’s foot slipped on the gangplank and he fell face-first onto his own ship.
“Damn you, Newgate!! That never happened!!”
He leapt up, fuming, his face flushed green with rage.
Whitebeard chuckled and cast a glance at Roger’s belt—secured by cheap plastic buttons.
“Looks pretty real to me.”
“Damn it!! This isn’t over!!” Roger howled, hand on his sword—only to be tackled by his own crew.
“Captain Roger! We need to leave!!”
“If we don’t move now, they’ll surround us!!”
Sweat poured down their faces as they held him back.
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
The cannon fire grew heavier, water exploding all around.
Marco had already taken flight in his phoenix form, batting away shell after shell with blazing wings.
And from afar, Garp’s voice thundered like rolling thunder:
“Roger!! Don’t you run now!! This time you’ll lose more than your pants—Bwahaha!!”
Roger’s face turned pitch black with fury.
“Gu ra ra ra ra… Off you go, Roger.”
Whitebeard shook his head with a laugh.
“I’ll give you a little send-off.”
Rayleigh quickly gave the order to pull up the gangplank.
Whitebeard turned, eyes fixed on the distant waves where the Marine battleships tore across the sea. His golden hair whipped in the wind.
On the lead ships, the silhouettes of Garp and Sengoku grew clearer.
“…It’s not time to fight you yet, Garp. Sengoku…”
Whitebeard whispered with a smirk, then took a deep breath.
His fists clenched tightly, bulging with stone-like muscle as he crossed them before his chest.
“Pops… You’re not thinking—” Marco’s eyes widened in horror.
The crew scrambled, gripping onto the Moby Dick for dear life.
“Gu ra ra ra!! Marines! Here’s a little gift for you!!”
Whitebeard roared. His eyes flashed with unstoppable force.
Both fists shimmered with a milky white glow. Then, he hurled them forward.
BOOM!!
His fists struck empty space—and the air shattered.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the sky like broken glass.
Time paused.
Then—
Before the shocked eyes of Garp, Sengoku, and the Marine elites, the ocean exploded.
A deafening roar rose from the deep, shaking the sea itself.
Tidal waves surged upward—hundreds, even thousands of meters high. Towering walls of water blotted out the sky.
Amidst the chaos, the Oro Jackson was flung skyward like a toy, vanishing into the clouds with pig-like screams trailing behind.
The sea howled. Thunder cracked. The world split open.
---
Three minutes later.
The tsunami finally calmed.
Debris and wreckage floated across the shattered sea. Broken masts, splintered hulls.
On two battered Marine battleships, barely afloat, soldiers lay collapsed—ashen and breathless.
“Damn it! They escaped again!!”
Soaking wet, Garp cursed at the empty sea.
The Oro Jackson and the Moby Dick had vanished—clearly using the tsunami as cover to retreat.
“If the Moby Dick didn’t take the full hit, they might’ve avoided total destruction…”
Sengoku muttered, breathing heavily, frowning deeply.
“No telling where the waves carried them now…”
His aura was unsteady—clearly strained from withstanding the shock.
“So that’s the power of the world’s strongest man… terrifying.”
A lazy voice spoke.
A golden light fell from the sky as particles gathered into a human form.
Borsalino appeared beside Sengoku, not even winded, stroking his chin with a smirk.
Sengoku glanced at the untouched Borsalino—and twitched.
---
Meanwhile.
In a ruined town along the Grand Line…
Corpses littered the ground. Buildings lay in flaming ruins, black smoke billowing skyward.
A bloodstained Marine boot stepped on a fallen pirate flag.
A towering young man in a black uniform, with golden hair and a savage grin, lifted a pirate by the neck with one hand.
“This guy? 80 million bounty?”
He scoffed, disappointment in his eyes.
“Too weak.”
CRACK!
With a twist of his thick fingers, he snapped the pirate’s neck clean. The head flew upward in an arc.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the sky crimson.
It splattered across his face, making his grin even more twisted.
He let go of the corpse, letting it thud to the ground.
Then, sensing something, he turned toward the sea.
A Marine battleship was breaking through the waves—dead ahead.
“Marines, huh?”
Douglas Bullet licked his cracked lips, eyes gleaming.
“Perfect. I was just getting warmed up…”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 162: Chapter 64: An Army of One
Summary:
“He was not backed by an army.
He was the army.”
Chapter Text
“Just one battleship, huh… Well, better than nothing.”
Douglas Bullet’s eyes gleamed with violent pride, a twisted grin spreading across his face.
“Before I kill that Roger guy—guess I’ll use you lot for a warm-up.”
But before he could finish the sentence, his expression shifted.
A silver blur tore through the air, moving at a speed that defied belief—and slammed into the earth.
BOOM—BOOM!!
Dust exploded across the ruined town, blanketing the wreckage in a violent storm of debris.
Bullet was knocked backward, his black Marine boots carving deep trenches in the dirt as he skidded back dozens of meters.
Through the thick cloud of dust, his armored right hand—coated in Armament Haki—gripped a streamlined piece of twisted silver metal.
“A Devil Fruit user…?”
Bullet licked his lips, excitement sparking in his eyes as he clenched the metal board in his hand until it warped.
But just as he prepared to charge forward again, a rain of cannonfire descended from above.
Explosions engulfed the ruins. Fire roared. The ground split apart under the relentless bombardment.
The entire town was reduced to a smoldering crater as shells rained down in precise, unending salvos. The cannon blasts bloomed into towering mushroom clouds, painting the sky in fire.
Onboard the Marine battleship, stunned soldiers watched in awe as the coordinated barrage lit up the target zone like a military testing ground.
They could hardly believe what they were seeing.
Their eyes—without meaning to—drifted to the tall, shadowed figure standing at the ship’s prow, his arm outstretched beside Rear Admiral Sakazuki.
Only now did they understand…
Why the proud Sakazuki had personally requested this new recruit from the training camp.
There was no need for heavy artillery. This man alone—Commodore Darren—was an army by himself.
And what was even more terrifying…
Thanks to Darren’s Devil Fruit ability, the ship’s shells didn’t need to follow parabolic trajectories.
Instead, they were launched at speeds several times greater than conventional artillery, bombarding targets with pinpoint devastation.
“He’s insane…”
“That’s… a monster.”
“No wonder Rear Admiral Sakazuki personally came to fetch him…”
As the Marines stood frozen in awe, Sakazuki’s sharp gaze remained locked on the explosion's center. He frowned.
“His presence hasn’t diminished.”
Darren grinned viciously.
“Of course not. That guy’s not so easy to kill.”
He shrugged off his Marine coat, stretching his neck with loud, cracking pops.
“Guess I’ll go play with him a bit.”
“Hmph.”
Sakazuki gave a quiet nod.
Blue electric arcs danced between Darren’s fingertips.
Invisible magnetic fields pulsed outward and then flared with violent force.
Before the soldiers could even process what was happening, Darren launched himself from the deck like a cannonball—his body flying parallel to the sea’s surface, slicing through the air at blistering speed. A white streak carved across the waves in his wake.
Before this mission, Darren had made modifications to his boots and belt via Marine HQ’s armory division, embedding metal components inside.
Now, he didn’t even need his signature metal board—he could fly freely under his own power.
“Quit staring! Full speed ahead!”
Sakazuki’s cold bark snapped the crew back to their senses.
The ship’s engine roared to life like a beast awakening—full throttle engaged.
---
“How boring… Is that all the Marines can do?”
From the black smoke and roaring flames, a black-booted foot stepped out.
Bullet’s towering frame followed, breaking through the smoke cloud.
The blackened Armament Haki covering his body slowly faded like ink being drained.
He tore away his scorched upper uniform, revealing a body packed with dense, brutal muscle.
“Is that so?”
A low voice echoed above him.
Bullet’s pupils flashed red for a moment.
A dark-haired Marine appeared overhead like a ghost, his boot—shrouded in pitch-black Haki—slamming downward like a war axe.
Bullet grinned with delight.
“Looks like we’ve got a real tough one this time.”
He didn’t dodge. He threw a punch straight up.
BOOM!!
Boot met fist midair. The impact was deafening—like a meteor slamming into the earth.
The ground beneath Bullet’s feet collapsed, a massive crater exploding outward in every direction.
His pupils shrank. Then he burst into laughter.
“Kahahaha!! Not bad! Not bad at all!!”
“For the first time… for the first time on this sea—someone can match me in raw, physical power!”
His eyes turned crimson, locked onto Darren with a gaze full of demonic fervor and obsession.
And at last, Darren got a clear look at Bullet’s face.
It was almost exactly as he remembered—cold, unfeeling, a face that knew neither pity nor mercy. Only madness and obsession boiled in those eyes.
But compared to that memory… this Bullet was still young. Barely twenty.
“You have no idea how vast this sea truly is,” Darren said coldly.
He twisted midair and, using the momentum of his spin, drove a devastating punch straight at Bullet’s skull.
With strength surpassing even that of giants, bolstered by Armament Haki, his strike tore the air apart—white shockwaves rippling out with explosive sonic booms.
“Is that so?”
Bullet howled with laughter, swinging his own punch to meet it.
“Then show me what you’ve got, Marine!!”
BOOM!!
Their black fists collided again, violently.
Then Bullet’s eyes narrowed—and with a roar, a monstrous surge of Conqueror’s Haki erupted from his body.
The sky twisted. The wind howled.
Conqueror’s Haki.
Darren responded instantly—unleashing his own, unrestrained.
BOOM!!
Red and violet Haki clashed in the heavens, their waves crashing like titanic storms.
Lightning burst in all directions.
A devastating pressure wave rippled outward from them, consuming everything in its path.
The earth. The ruins. Dirt, stone, shattered corpses—everything was flung skyward in the raging blast.
Wave after wave of impact rippled out in a storm of pure willpower.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 163: Chapter 65: The Strength of Bullet
Summary:
“Some are born to command armies.
Others are born to destroy them.”
Chapter Text
A violent storm rippled across the battlefield, shockwaves spreading outward like jagged rings—one red, one purple—crashing and grinding against each other.
At their heart stood two silhouettes, wild and domineering, wrapped in black-red lightning—monstrous figures in a clash of gods and devils.
The sheer force of their clash radiated at a terrifying pace. Even the distant edges of the island began to crack. Trees split open, ruins crumbled, and deep fractures snaked across the land.
The air itself seemed to gain weight—a suffocating pressure that brought even the Marines’ battleship to a halt mid-charge.
Onboard, several lower-ranking Marines collapsed without a sound, unable to withstand the oppressive aura. They passed out instantly.
The rest stared, eyes wide with disbelief, at what had become a literal hellscape on land. Cracks of black-red lightning arced through the sky above a battlefield drenched in chaos.
“That’s a Conqueror’s Haki clash!”
“Commodore Darren awakened Conqueror’s Haki?!”
“This is insane!”
“…”
At the prow of the battleship, Sakazuki stood like an unmovable mountain, his cape billowing in the gale, eyes fixed on the storm ahead. A faint, nearly imperceptible flicker of light passed through his gaze.
“Kahahahaha!! That’s what I’m talking about!!”
Douglas Bullet’s bloodshot eyes gleamed with battle-lust. He laughed maniacally.
“Come on, Marine!! Let’s go all out!!”
And with that roar, his demonic gaze flared even brighter. His aura surged once again—wild, untamed.
ROAR!!
With a howl like a beast from the underworld, Bullet’s right arm—locked in deadlock with Darren—bulged grotesquely, muscles tightening like steel cords. A sharper, deadlier aura of Haki surged from it.
Darren’s pupils narrowed.
“Try and stop me, Marine!!”
With a twisted grin, Bullet’s monstrous arm exploded with kinetic force—white shockwaves blasting out as his raw strength burst forth.
Despite Darren’s terrifying strength—rivaling the giants—he was sent flying.
BOOM!
The impact tore through the land. Armament Haki carved a trench across the battlefield, ripping apart soil, stone, and ruins in its wake.
Darren’s body shot back like a cannonball, crashing through several ruined buildings before slamming into the ground and sending a massive shockwave of dust outward.
Smoke and dust rose in a storm.
Bullet’s gaze burned brighter. He wasted no words. With a stomp that shattered the ground, his figure vanished from sight.
His speed was monstrous—inhuman. This was a man who once annihilated an entire national army. His body had been honed to the level of a living weapon.
A breath later, he appeared directly above Darren’s impact crater.
Without pause, he swung his fist downward at the barely-visible silhouette in the dust.
He’d learned this truth early in life—from the battlefield itself:
On the battlefield, mercy is death.
Talking is stupidity.
If you want to kill—strike.
If you give your enemy a breath… you’re digging your own grave.
“Kahahaha!! DIE, MARINE!!”
CRACK—
Suddenly, the earth split with a sharp, unnatural sound.
Bullet’s expression shifted.
Through his Observation Haki, a flash of red—danger—lit up in his mind. He twisted to guard—
BOOM!!
The ground beneath him erupted. Hellish, molten red filled his vision.
Lava.
A jet of magma burst upward in a geyser of fire and fury.
From within the inferno, a figure lunged forth—like a beast born from the planet’s core. A blazing fist, wreathed in molten death, slammed forward with unstoppable power.
In the next instant—
CLASH!!
Bullet’s Haki-coated fist met the lava punch midair.
A dull, brutal shockwave rang out.
Purple Armament Haki clashed with blood-red magma. The energy swirled, compressed, and detonated outward. The ground beneath them cracked, boiled, melted.
The air itself twisted. The shockwave blasted in every direction, sending stones, metal, and debris hurtling.
The stalemate lasted for only a second.
Then, with a crack, both men grunted and recoiled.
Bullet’s body was blasted back in a burst of magma. He stumbled as he hit the ground, legs smashing the earth with every step, leaving behind craters.
“Heh… Someone even stronger, huh…”
His fist seared with heat. The black glove on his hand was burned through.
Eyes narrowing, he licked his cracked lips, excited. Violent crimson gleamed in his pupils.
This lava—over a thousand degrees—had pierced even his hardened Haki. It had hurt.
“Finally,” he grinned, cracking his knuckles, “a real fight.”
Two silhouettes stood through the fading smoke.
Bullet smiled with savage delight.
“…What a mess,” Darren muttered as the wind blew the dust aside.
He stepped from a crater that looked like it had been carved by a meteor. Blood dripped from his right arm.
Bullet's strength was no joke.
In terms of sheer physique, raw power, and close-quarters combat, he was on par with Darren—or even superior.
But what truly gave Bullet the edge was his mastery over Armament Haki. That pressure was real. Unmistakable.
Darren clenched his teeth.
“HQ’s intel was wrong,” he said. “Forget the Devil Fruit for now. Just in terms of pure close-combat capability—he already surpasses Byrnndi World.”
From the swirling lava, a figure rose—towering and stoic.
Magma sizzled off his body like sweat. The white Marine cape still clung to his shoulders, even as smoke poured off his blackened form.
Sakazuki.
Darren wiped the blood from his lip and gave a crooked grin.
“No doubt.”
He remembered it clearly—his battle against Byrnndi World. Even though he’d had the North Blue Fleet’s artillery backing him, it was close. Too close.
But here, Bullet had the edge.
Born into war, forged in blood—Bullet’s close-quarters power was beyond logic.
As terrifying as Byrnndi World’s Moa Moa no mi was, it was that ability—not his base strength—that made him a legend.
But Bullet?
This was just him.
Pure. Relentless. Monster.
Still… Darren smirked. Despite being overpowered in Haki, he now had a clear sense of Bullet’s true level.
At this moment—
Before he ever joined the Roger Pirates, still just a 15-year-old kid—
He wasn’t yet on the same level as the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh.
The monstrous power spoken of in the future…
That probably came after years of clashing with Roger, getting beaten down, and growing stronger with every scar.
In that sense… maybe Roger had been a damn good teacher.
As for the current Bullet?
Maybe not a full Admiral yet…
But damn close.
Darren spat blood and smiled with savage anticipation.
“Let’s fight.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 164: Chapter 66: United Assault
Summary:
“When the will of one is not enough,
the rhythm of two can break the unbreakable.”
Chapter Text
“Don’t underestimate him.”
Sakazuki shot a sharp glance at Darren, his voice cold and unyielding.
His face remained expressionless as he looked at the blond-haired youth radiating a demonic aura not far away. Beneath the shadow of his cap, his eyes flickered with something dark and heavy.
They may have fended off Bullet’s last strike, but the aching burn in his arm reminded him just how monstrous this opponent truly was.
A superhuman physique. Brutal strength. Explosive speed. And now that overwhelming Armament Haki…
This mission was far more dangerous than Sakazuki had anticipated.
Darren stepped forward, now shoulder-to-shoulder with Sakazuki.
With a small twitch of his finger, the steel hidden beneath the rubble of the ruined town rose up like coiled dragons—twisting into sharp, snaking tendrils of metal that hovered above his head, clawing at the sky.
“I’ve never had the habit of underestimating an enemy.”
Sakazuki narrowed his eyes and asked, suddenly:
“When did you awaken Conqueror’s Haki?”
Darren glanced sideways at him, noting the question but not the expression. He smiled faintly.
“Back in North Blue.”
Then, he clenched his fingers into a fist.
SHIIING—!
Dozens of razor-sharp metal tendrils screamed through the air, streaking toward Douglas Bullet like a rain of steel spears, their impact shaking the earth as they slammed down one by one.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!!
The town shook violently. Dust surged upward in thick columns, explosions lighting up the sky. The battlefield quaked beneath the assault.
“Kahahaha!!”
Bullet’s wild laugh pierced through the chaos.
Without any visible motion, his figure began weaving through the barrage at terrifying speed, leaving blurred afterimages behind him.
Steel spears capable of piercing battleship armor scraped past him one after another—but not a single one landed a hit.
“That’s it? Come on! Come at me together!”
He cackled, eyes burning with twisted crimson light. Then, with a sudden stop, he reached out and grabbed one of the incoming steel spikes.
CRUNCH—CRACK—!!
His five fingers clenched, and with a surge of Armament Haki, the hundred-meter spear exploded into thousands of fragments midair.
And then—
A flash of crimson burst through the cloud of shredded metal—Sakazuki, cloak melting into molten magma, fist blazing with infernal heat.
The temperature skyrocketed. Even the air began to warp.
“Hound Blaze Lotus!!”
With a barked command, Sakazuki hurled his arm forward. A gigantic magma dog, jaws wide and glowing red, surged forward like a blooming lotus of destruction—ready to devour Bullet whole.
“Kahahahaha!! Now that’s more like it!”
Bullet didn’t retreat. He stepped forward with a roar and met the attack head-on, swinging a fist wreathed in thick, dense Haki.
BOOM!!
His punch collided with the lava beast’s open jaws, holding it back. Molten rock sprayed in every direction.
Then—
Darren appeared at Bullet’s flank in a flash, delivering a vicious sideways kick aimed straight at his temple.
The sunlight glinted off Darren’s black Marine boots. Bullet’s eyes narrowed. His massive arm shot out like a whip, fingers splayed wide.
WHAM!
The shockwave burst outward. He caught Darren’s kick in midair. But the impact of Darren’s Haki made him grunt—his body wobbling for a split second.
“Yes… this is the feeling…”
Bullet’s blood-red eyes gleamed as he laughed maniacally. He pulled his knee up and aimed a brutal blow at Darren’s chest.
His goal was nothing less than to be the strongest in the world.
He would never take a step back—no matter how many came at him.
Darren narrowed his eyes and met him head-on—knee for knee.
BANG!!
A shockwave burst from the impact.
Using the recoil, Bullet staggered back, then stomped hard enough to crack the ground. Reaching to his side, he grabbed a twisted shard of metal and launched a punch.
As he threw the blow, the scrap began to transform—wrapping around his left arm in spirals, fusing and reshaping into a massive impact cannon.
Purple-black Haki spread over the metal. Steam hissed from vents at the base like a rocket booster, vastly boosting the power of the strike.
The air collapsed around the cannon as it punched forward, spiraling into a windstorm.
“Fusion Cannon!!”
The fist came down like a meteor, the pressure alone distorting the air and tearing Darren’s face into a snarl from sheer wind force.
His pupils shrank.
That punch…
Darren crossed his arms, Haki surging over both forearms. Sparks flickered between his fingers as magnetic tension gathered.
BOOM!!
It was like being hit head-on by a Buster Call battleship at full speed. Darren flew backward like a ragdoll, blood spraying from his mouth.
“Kahahahaha!! On the battlefield, I’M INVINCIBLE!!”
Bullet roared with laughter. His arm-cannon began to shift again, the metal folding and reshaping into a new form—a thick barrel now forming at the front.
He had eaten the Clank-Clank Fruit (Gasha Gasha no Mi)—a fusion-type Devil Fruit that allowed him to merge any object he touched with his own body, forming new weapons at will.
As long as he was on a battlefield, surrounded by wreckage—he had infinite tools for war.
A dark crimson glow gathered in the cannon’s mouth.
His target: Darren, still mid-air from the last blow.
“Let’s finish this—!”
But then, something made him freeze.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darren’s twisted, bloodied face… smiling.
The cannon sparked.
BOOM—!!
The weapon backfired, detonating in his hands. Fire and smoke engulfed him.
“What…!?”
Bullet staggered. Burns marked his neck and arms. His face twisted in disbelief.
Before he could react—
BANG!!!
A fist of lava exploded before him—like a volcanic beast unchained. Furious. Unrelenting.
It was fast.
Too fast.
That punch—
A real threat flared in Bullet’s mind. His instincts screamed.
He activated his Haki, hardening his entire upper body. His left arm—still fused with cannon-metal—reeled back, trying to block.
But—
More sparks crackled.
Tiny arcs of electricity danced across the cannon-metal, binding and gripping.
A strange magnetic pull distorted his motion.
He couldn’t move freely.
“What is this ability!?”
Bullet’s eyes widened in fury, jaw clenched tight.
“Well played!!”
Sakazuki roared.
He and Darren had fought together for years in North Blue. They didn’t need words. One glance was enough to understand each other’s plan.
This—
This was Darren giving him an opening.
A weakness had been exposed.
Sakazuki’s eyes flared with killing intent.
His magma-coated fist roared with the promise of obliteration.
“Hellhound!!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 165: Chapter 67: Beasts in the Cage
Summary:
“Even the strongest beast can be wounded—
but only inside a cage do you learn who’s truly unbreakable.”
Chapter Text
A blazing fist, erupting like a volcanic cannon, burned with hellhound-like crimson. It filled Douglas Bullet’s vision in an instant.
Sakazuki struck.
In that moment, Bullet’s instincts screamed. His pupils swelled with blood.
A surge of raw, brutal Armament Haki exploded from his body. The scorched and cracked fusion cannon on his arm crackled with blue electricity, billowing smoke.
He twisted—barely breaking free of the invisible magnetic field—and narrowly dodged to the side.
SHHHH—!!
The column of magma roared past him at an angle, grazing his left side. The sheer heat charred skin and muscle into blackened ash.
Bullet’s face contorted in pain—but he didn’t flinch. As if immune to agony, he swung his scorched fist back at Sakazuki’s chest.
“I’m Douglas Bullet!! I’m going to be the strongest in the world!!”
BANG!!
The blow detonated on impact. Armament Haki surged outward, blasting Sakazuki off his feet like a snapped kite string. His bones cracked audibly as he tumbled through the dirt, rolling dozens of meters before slamming into the ground.
At the same time, Bullet staggered back. His legs shook, and his face paled.
The entire left side of his body—shoulder, arm, ribs, and abdomen—was burned black by magma. Smoke poured from his wounds.
The molten heat had melted flesh to pulp. Blood oozed from beneath scorched tissue, mixing with magma that dripped onto the ground.
Sakazuki’s all-out, unguarded strike had bypassed even Bullet’s superhuman defenses.
The damage was devastating.
“You two…”
Bullet’s blood-red eyes locked onto the rising forms of Darren and Sakazuki, both emerging from smoke and ash like demons reborn.
“You’re just a Rear Admiral and a Commodore…
How can you possibly have this kind of power?”
He was an orphan. Raised by the military. His entire life had been the battlefield.
And that battlefield had taught him how to read rank and threat. He knew the meaning of a Marine insignia, understood the strength it usually represented.
But these two…
They were nothing like the Marines he’d known.
One with an ability unlike anything he’d seen—strange, elusive, relentless.
The other wielding a destructive force that defied logic.
They spoke barely a word, yet coordinated perfectly—finding openings in moments that would have overwhelmed lesser men.
But most terrifying of all—
Their style.
Brutal. Wild. Willing to trade injury for advantage.
They didn’t fight like soldiers.
They fought like beasts.
Emotionless, unrelenting beasts.
The opposite of everything he’d learned about Marines—tame, measured, rule-bound.
With a grunt, Bullet deactivated his fusion ability. The battered metal cannon fell from his arm and slammed into the ground with a heavy THUD.
Then—
Gunfire rang out.
RATATATATA!!
At last, the Marine reinforcements had arrived—shouting orders, rifles raised. A hail of bullets rained down on Bullet from all sides.
But the rounds bounced off his Haki-coated body like pebbles against stone, scattering across the sand in sprays of dirt.
A weary voice drifted out of the smoke.
“Shame… I really thought we had him.”
Darren stepped from a crater, arms soaked in blood. A long red gash ran from his jaw to his collarbone.
He lifted a trembling, bleeding hand—and fished a cigar from his coat.
It was damp with blood, but he bit it anyway. He lit it with shaking fingers, inhaling the sharp smoke.
His face—ashen and worn—seemed to revive just slightly.
“His Haki’s too strong,” Darren muttered. “As long as it’s dense enough, even a Devil Fruit’s effects can be resisted.”
Across the field, as the smoke parted, Sakazuki stood.
He braced himself with one hand. Blood trickled from his lips. His ribs had caved in—an unnatural dent warping his chest.
Without hesitation, he pressed a gloved hand to his side—and snapped.
CRACK!
The broken bones popped back into place.
Expressionless, he said:
“But from here on…
It won’t be so easy.”
Darren’s earlier attack had caught Bullet off-guard, opening a small window.
But now that Bullet was alert, he’d keep Haki reinforced at all times—shutting down Darren’s abilities.
In the distance, Marines sealing the harbor stared wide-eyed.
That battle—the one that tore the town apart—was just the “easy” part!?
Darren grinned through bloodstained teeth. Despite his injuries, his presence surged stronger than ever.
“Of course I know that.”
As he spoke, shards of twisted metal floated upward—forming three high-density metal spheres. Their polished surfaces reflected the fading sunlight as they orbited his body.
High-level battles were always wars of attrition.
Especially against a monster like Bullet—trained by war, hardened by blood. His body, strength, speed, technique… all refined to inhuman levels.
Darren admitted it:
In pure strength, Bullet was superior.
Sakazuki alone could match him.
Together, they could pressure him. But it wouldn’t be a one-sided fight.
Sakazuki chuckled.
He stood, lava dripping at his feet, surrounded by flickering flames.
Though his internal injuries still throbbed, at least the bones were no longer a liability.
He wiped the blood from his mouth. His right arm smoked again, magma building beneath his skin.
Adjusting his Marine cap, he looked toward the blond-haired warrior who stood wounded yet still burning with fury.
A twisted grin tugged at his lips.
“Rank means nothing.”
And with that—
All three charged.
Smiles carved with cruelty. Bloodied, broken, burning.
Magma roared.
Metal spiraled.
Blood sprayed into the sky.
The clash of Haki shook the heavens. Earth split beneath their feet.
From a distance—
The three figures looked like caged beasts.
Soaked in blood.
Driven by madness.
Unwilling to yield.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 166: Chapter 68: I... Lost
Summary:
“Victory is not measured by who stands last—
but by whose will endures through the fire.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The earth quaked. The town trembled.
Three shadows—raging, bloodied, relentless—crashed again and again through the shattered ruins, leaving trails of devastation: crumbling ground, bursts of magma, shockwaves splitting the very air.
The earth groaned beneath the strain, metal spheres screamed across the sky, and explosions of dust burst like tidal waves across the ruined streets.
Over a hundred Marines had already retreated to the harbor, clutching their rifles, shielding their battleships from the storm of debris. Their palms were slick with cold sweat.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Thirty minutes.
An hour.
What began as stunned awe slowly twisted into blank-eyed numbness. The three combatants fought like beasts in a cage—merciless, unhinged.
No one dared to breathe too loudly.
This kind of battle was far beyond them.
Rushing in would do nothing but get them killed… and maybe distract Commodore Darren and Rear Admiral Sakazuki long enough to lose the fight.
“This is insane!!”
“They’re like three monsters!!”
“They’re tearing the entire town apart...!”
“…”
And then—
BOOM!!
A towering pillar of magma erupted into the sky.
“Kahahahaha!! What a rush!! Marines!!”
Douglas Bullet burst from the smoke like a rabid beast. His body was drenched in wounds, blood streaking his golden hair, his form barely holding together.
But his eyes still burned—bright red with battle-lust.
“This ends now!!”
Sakazuki’s cap was long gone. Blood ran freely down his face, but he grinned like a madman, eyes sharp beneath his buzzcut.
“Chasing the title of ‘strongest in the world’?
You’re nothing but a deserter—a coward who ran from his own army!”
A roaring surge of magma exploded from his arm.
BOOM!!
Haki-darkened fists and volcanic destruction collided in a thunderous blast.
The shockwave exploded outward from them both, rippling the earth like a sea. Dust leapt in rings from their feet.
Then the ground finally gave out beneath them—ripping open in a spiderweb of canyons, magma spewing from the depths.
Sakazuki plunged into the molten lake—emerging moments later like a demon born of fire, flames trailing behind his punch.
“Hound Blaze Lotus!!”
Bullet laughed maniacally, refusing to retreat. Every ounce of Armament Haki he had surged into his fist.
White shockwaves burst around his knuckles as the air was torn apart.
BOOM!!!
The impact shattered the land. Buildings were blown away like paper.
Both men spat blood simultaneously, their bodies thrown back, pale and heaving.
“Darren!!”
But then—Sakazuki grinned.
A cruel, knowing grin.
“NOW!!”
Bullet’s eyes snapped wide.
Clink.
The sharp metallic sound of a coin being flicked rang out—piercing through the chaos like a bell of judgment.
“Go to hell, pirate.”
Sakazuki’s voice was low. Flat. Final.
And then—his body exploded.
Not into blood—but into lava.
Voluntary elemental transformation.
Time seemed to slow.
Through the molten gap in Sakazuki’s form, Bullet saw a blurred figure in the distance—and something shot into the air from his hand.
A coin.
That silver coin spun in slow motion, reflecting fire, magma, blood, smoke, ash… and a flicker of blue electricity dancing between bloodstained fingers.
No…
Bullet’s instincts shrieked. Dread flooded his spine.
From the Marines’ perspective, the three men now formed a straight line.
And Sakazuki—stood directly between Darren and Bullet.
The coin flew.
Darren’s blood-soaked black hair whipped in the wind.
Click.
The silver coin turned jet black, then vanished in a blur of velocity.
“Magnetic Overload: Railgun!”
One month of brutal training. Enhanced Haki. Refined Devil Fruit mastery.
All of it poured into one shot.
BOOM!!!
The coin ignited the sky—launched through the supercharged magnetic field at a speed no eye could follow.
It tore through air.
Through flame.
Through smoke.
Through shattered ruins.
Through Sakazuki.
And through everything in its path—
—Until it became a beam of orange-red light screaming toward Bullet.
Too fast.
His eyes bulged. Blood leaked from his lips as he roared and threw up a desperate fist.
“Don’t underestimate me, MARINE!!”
With one last gasp of will, he activated his Clank-Clank Fruit.
Metal and stone surged from the battlefield, wrapping his arm like living armor. A massive cannon formed around his right arm—barrel glowing, pressure rising.
His last strength.
His last Haki.
All of it.
HIS LAST PUNCH.
SHHHHHH—!!
Steam blasted from vents. The cannon ignited.
“I will become… the strongest in the world!!”
And then—
BOOM—!!!
The clash lasted but a second.
Brilliant white light swallowed everything.
Bullet’s Haki armor shattered.
The fusion cannon shattered.
His fist shattered.
His forearm—
—shattered.
BOOMMMM!!!
Flames exploded into the sky.
The ground shook.
Darren dropped to one knee, pale as death. He gasped for air, body drained to the bone.
He couldn’t lift a finger. But his eyes locked onto the inferno ahead.
Sakazuki fared no better—his breathing ragged, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. His guts screamed from internal bleeding.
Marines stared, dumbstruck.
“…Did it work?”
“…It must have...”
“No one could survive that.”
“…”
The smoke cleared.
Bullet reappeared.
Kneeling.
Bleeding.
His left hand clutched his right shoulder.
His entire right arm was gone.
Blood poured in rivers from the stump.
The world fell silent.
Only the sound of fire crackling and labored breathing remained.
“I… lost…”
Bullet’s voice was hoarse.
He raised his head—looked at Darren and Sakazuki—and then burst into wild, wheezing laughter.
“Kahahahahaha!!”
“What a fight… What a glorious f***ing fight!!”
His voice echoed like the howl of a mad devil.
“…Before you finish me,” he grinned, “tell me your names, Marines.”
Sakazuki stepped forward.
Blood ran down his legs, dripping from torn uniform pants. Smoke coiled from his arm, magma bubbling to the surface.
“You’re not worthy of our names, pirate filth.”
He raised his fist, standing over the broken Bullet like a judge delivering a death sentence.
Magma churned.
Murderous intent surged.
And then—
“Wororororo… Now that was a battle worthy of blood.”
A deep, thunderous laugh rolled from the distant sky.
Clouds gathered—black as ink.
Lightning flashed.
Thunder cracked the heavens.
The sky turned dark.
The Marines turned pale.
And Darren and Sakazuki—
—felt a chill run down their spines.
Their pupils shrank to pinpricks.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Guys… is it just me, or can you hear that laugh? Wororororo…
Because I swear, it’s echoing in my head—and not just the sound. I can see him too.
Big, horned, built like a mountain…
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Chapter 167: Chapter 69: Status—Unknown
Summary:
“When the sky splits and monsters descend, even the bravest must ask—what does it mean to stand tall when the world itself is collapsing?”
Chapter Text
Thunder rumbled through the churning clouds, shaking the heavens as howling winds tore across the land.
“What’s going on?!”
“Something’s approaching!!”
“In the sky—!”
“Damn it… what is that…?”
“……”
Rip—!!
A blinding flash of lightning tore through the night sky, casting the Marines’ widening eyes and pale, terror-stricken faces in a stark, ghastly glow.
“This feeling… No way…”
A rare unease surged through Darren’s eyes. He grit his teeth and tried to stand, but his battered body wavered—he was running on empty.
Through his bio-magnetic field perception, he sensed it. In the eye of the storm, deep within the roiling sea of clouds, something immense was stirring—a fearsome, oppressive aura, radiating with the dominance of a true apex predator.
“A real pain just showed up.”
Sakazuki’s face had gone completely grim.
The suffocating pressure blanketing the battlefield forced every muscle and nerve in his body to tighten to the extreme.
He glanced at Darren, who could no longer even rise to his feet, then assessed his own injuries. His heart sank further.
“Wororororo… What an interesting scene I’ve stumbled upon.”
That voice rolled through the skies—hoarse, thunderous, and low like distant drums, rattling in their very bones.
The sea erupted. Winds howled. Waves surged.
And then—
In the black, roiling clouds above, a shadow began to take shape.
It moved swiftly, impossibly massive—darker and more menacing than the storm clouds themselves, its form growing larger with every second, as if blotting out the sky.
It slid through the heavens like a leviathan, dragging visible lightning behind it.
Gales roared across the earth, kicking up clouds of ash and debris.
And then, to the Marines’ horror—
A head the size of a mountain broke through the clouds.
A pair of twisted, razor-sharp horns. Jet-black facial hair. Slitted amber eyes the size of lanterns. Colossal claws with four jagged talons. Blue-green scales that shimmered like steel beneath the flashing lightning…
“A dragon!!”
“It’s a dragon! The legendary beast—Azure Dragon!!”
“It’s Kaido! One of the fiercest pirates in the New World!!”
“Kaido of the Beasts!!”
“There’s no way… What the hell is Kaido doing here?!”
“……”
Cries of disbelief erupted from the Marine ranks. Faces drained of color. Their throats dry. Cold sweat drenched their backs as they stared up at the monstrous figure descending from the sky.
The gigantic Azure Dragon narrowed his eyes, sweeping a gaze across the battlefield. His pupils lingered for a moment on Darren and Douglas Bullet, then locked on Sakazuki.
He grinned.
BOOM!
An oppressive aura exploded from Kaido’s massive body—immense, crushing, as vast as the ocean and as deep as the abyss.
Black-red lightning crackled violently in the sky, shooting downward like spears of death.
Vmmmm…
The pressure was so intense it distorted the air itself, sending ripples across the void.
For a split second, it looked like the entire world was cracking—the ground, the trees, the broken remains of the harbor—all fracturing piece by piece.
The sheer force invaded the Marines’ souls. Every breath felt like a struggle beneath a collapsing sky.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
One after another…
Several young Marines collapsed, their eyes rolling back as they dropped unconscious on the spot.
Darren’s breath caught. His mind went numb under the weight.
He grunted, his body already pushed to the brink, trembling violently as he struggled to stay conscious.
If he were at full strength, even Kaido’s Conqueror’s Haki wouldn’t overwhelm him like this.
But now—his body was a wreck, covered in wounds, completely drained of energy. He couldn’t hold out.
And Bullet, lying nearby, didn’t even groan. He simply crumpled, unmoving.
The storm howled. Fire licked the edges of the battlefield. Amid the chaos, Sakazuki stood alone—unshaken, like a boulder perched on a cliffside. His white coat whipped in the wind.
“Wororororo!! Die, Marines!!”
The dragon’s deafening roar echoed across the sky as he slowly opened his massive jaws.
Rows upon rows of jagged teeth glinted. As Kaido inhaled, a crimson glow began to gather deep in his throat—a terrifying, suffocating energy pulsing with destruction.
Hell itself was about to descend.
Blood-red light bathed the world, spreading like a curtain of death.
Despair—pure and absolute—flooded every Marine’s heart. They trembled in place, paralyzed, as if their very souls had been ripped away.
There was nowhere to run. No way to fight back.
“…Seriously?”
Sakazuki suddenly exhaled.
Without urgency, he peeled off his black gloves, revealing bloody, mangled hands. He straightened the blood-soaked red rose pinned to his chest.
Then, he pulled a cigar from his coat, bit it, and lit it with his own magma.
“This shit just won’t end…”
He whispered.
The sky was black. Thunder crashed. The storm howled like a beast.
Before a dragon that blotted out the heavens, the man who once bore the title of "monster" seemed so… small.
But above, the flames in Kaido’s throat had reached their peak.
“Heat Breath!”
ROAR!!
A massive column of crimson flame erupted from the dragon’s mouth.
The recoil from the blast even forced Kaido’s enormous head to snap back.
The fiery torrent tore through the sky, searing everything in its path.
Sakazuki looked up without flinching. His cold, steel gaze reflected the violent form of the raging dragon above.
Then the corner of his bloodstained mouth curled into a twisted grin.
“Killing a dragon… doesn’t sound impossible.”
He drew deeply from his cigar.
So deeply—it burned down to the stub in a single pull.
Fwooo…
He exhaled thick smoke, curling like a dragon of its own.
And then—
Magma exploded from beneath his feet. The ground split open, and Sakazuki shot into the sky like a cannonball.
Half his body had transformed into searing magma—molten rock glowing at thousands of degrees. Only his heavy, snow-white coat remained untouched, its solemn weight flowing in contrast against the raging fire.
He looked like a feral dog unleashed, a beast charging into the heart of an inferno—
Charging straight toward the king of beasts.
He swung his molten fist.
“Great Eruption!!”
Time froze.
Magma and dragonfire collided in the sky, a cataclysmic clash that split the heavens.
But the stalemate lasted only a second—
“Magma… is superior to flame!!!”
Sakazuki’s voice howled through the firestorm like a death knell.
BOOM!!
His magma punch tore straight through the Fire Breath.
The dragonfire exploded, scattering into countless burning meteors that rained down like falling stars.
Kaido’s eyes widened. The searing heat of the magma forced his body to twist midair in an evasive lurch.
Ssshhh!!
The magma grazed his scales, scorching a blackened streak along his flank.
“Damn Marine!! Then how about this?!”
Enraged, the wounded dragon roared. His massive form suddenly compressed, shifting into a monstrous humanoid figure.
With gravity on his side, he plummeted at terrifying speed.
Gripping a massive, jet-black kanabo in both hands, crimson lightning surged around the weapon. He raised it high—
And brought it down.
“Three Worlds Conquest: Ragnaraku!!”
CRASH!!
Sakazuki’s depleted body slammed into the earth like a meteor. The blow carved out a vast crater, the shockwave rippling outward as the land cracked and heaved.
The island shook.
The earth split open.
It was as if the world itself were breaking apart.
……
Eventually, the storm calmed.
Ash and smoke hung heavy in the air.
Dark red magma bubbled up from the fissures, coalescing into a human silhouette.
Staggering forward, drenched in blood and ash-white, Sakazuki looked like a man carved from ruin. He stumbled—nearly fell.
A Marine tried to help him, but he shoved the soldier aside.
He stared ahead at the scorched wasteland… empty.
His eyes—cold, bloodshot, filled with rage—gleamed like dying embers.
“Inform HQ. Kaido of the Beasts has appeared. The mission to capture Douglas Bullet… has failed.”
He paused.
His teeth clenched. Words hissed through them like venom.
“Mission target Douglas Bullet, along with…”
He spat it like a curse.
“Marine Commodore Rogers Darren… has been taken by Kaido…”
“…Status—Unknown.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 168: Chapter 70: Cellmates?
Summary:
“When the world bows to power, even beasts come bearing promises.”
Chapter Text
Drip…
Drip…
The rhythmic sound of water droplets falling echoed in his ears—that was Darren’s first sensation.
A strange stench filled his nostrils.
Damp, rotten, metallic… laced faintly with the harsh bite of strong liquor.
With immense effort, Darren cracked open his eyes. A flickering fire cast a dim, restless glow across the room.
His body was wracked with searing pain from head to toe. He tried to breathe deeply, only to cough up a mouthful of blood and sludge.
I’m… still alive…
And then—
“So. You’re awake.”
The gravelly, thunderous voice rang out from the shadows, sending a jolt down Darren’s spine. Every muscle tensed instinctively, but his shattered body had no strength left to respond. He couldn’t even lift a finger.
Forcing his mind to focus, he blinked his eyes open fully, trying to make out his surroundings.
Bloodstained, blackened stone walls. Rusted iron bars. A moss-covered, damp floor… A prison.
Outside the cell sat a massive silhouette, exuding a crushing presence. Wild black hair flowed down his shoulders. Two sharp horns jutted from his head. His beard dangled like a dragon’s whiskers.
He was bare-chested, a burn wound visible on his left side. The bleeding had stopped.
A purple coat hung at his waist, gold chains swaying from its hem. Loose dark green pants, a thick shimenawa belt, and a matching purple cloak completed the look.
The firelight on the wall threw his figure into looming, warped shadows—monstrous, demonic.
“Kaido of the Beasts…”
Darren’s eyes went cold. He locked his gaze on the figure’s broad back.
“If you don’t want to die, I’d suggest staying right where you are.”
Kaido’s voice rolled like thunder.
As he spoke, he raised a tattooed arm and grabbed a gourd marked with the kanji for "Heaven." He took a long swig, his eyes briefly flicking toward the burn on his left side.
“That magma bastard… really packs a punch.”
Darren froze—then it all came rushing back.
He’d been captured by Kaido.
Pain lanced through his skull. His memories felt like broken glass.
He remembered the last thing he saw: Sakazuki soaring from the ground, blasting away the Fire Breath with a magma fist—only to be smashed into the earth by a transformed Kaido’s kanabo.
After that, his body gave out. Everything went dark.
And now… he was here, in this dismal cell.
Where is this place?
Wano Country?
No. Not at this point in the timeline.
Kozuki Oden hadn’t left on his journey yet. Kaido wouldn’t have allied with Orochi this early. That meant…
This wasn’t Wano.
Darren sucked in shallow breaths, forcing himself to stay calm. His thoughts raced.
He was alive. That meant—for now—Kaido had no intention of killing him.
Whatever Kaido’s plan was, it could wait. If he was still breathing, there was still a chance to escape.
But before that, he had to confirm two things: Kaido’s current strength—and the guard force stationed at this prison.
His eyes flicked—ever so slightly—toward Kaido’s injured side, then quickly back.
The Magma-Magma Fruit truly was the most powerful offensive Devil Fruit. Sakazuki’s punch had not only blown apart Kaido’s Fire Breath—it had scorched his supposedly indestructible body.
And that final blow from Kaido’s kanabo… Darren had felt it.
He now had a rough estimate of Kaido’s strength.
In his early thirties now, Kaido likely already possessed power on par with an Admiral—maybe even a notch above Sakazuki at this point, given the age gap.
But one thing was clear: Kaido hadn’t yet reached the mythical heights of monsters like Roger or Garp.
Of course, "Admiral-level" was a vague term at best.
Not all Admirals were created equal.
Just look at Green Bull—who, in the main timeline, clearly ranked below Akainu, Kizaru, and Aokiji.
Admiral-level power was a necessary condition for the title—not a guarantee of it.
As Sakazuki once said, rank meant little.
Some Vice Admirals could chase the Pirate King across the sea.
And when it came to true monsters, unless you actually fought them, you’d never know who would win.
That was likely why Kaido hadn’t pushed his fight with Sakazuki further.
No one knows just how vicious a cornered mad dog can be—
Even a mad dog soaked in blood.
Just then, a low groan echoed through the darkness.
Darren blinked and turned his head.
The firelight cast long shadows across the cell, revealing another figure slumped against the wall in a ragged heap.
Beaten bloody, wounds torn open and dried from the wind and filth. His left side was a patchwork of charred skin—burned black by Sakazuki’s magma. One arm was gone, the wound still raw and horrifying.
Douglas Bullet.
He’d been captured too.
Darren’s pupils contracted. A thought flashed through his mind—so ridiculous, he almost laughed.
Am I seriously sharing a cell… with Douglas Bullet?
“…Where… is this…”
Bullet rasped hoarsely. He looked up, saw Darren, then saw Kaido.
He fell silent—but the realization was clear in his eyes.
“Well, you’re both awake. That’s good.”
Kaido tipped back the last of his liquor and stood.
The scent of alcohol clung to his massive frame. He walked forward, each step shaking the floor.
He towered over them, gazing down with glowing, slitted pupils. His grin widened.
“Wororororo… Boys, join me.”
“I can give you anything you want.”
“Power. Wealth. Status. Strength… Name it—I can give it to you.”
He reached out a massive, tattooed hand.
“This world is too damn boring. But I can see it in your eyes—you’re not the obedient type.”
“Swear loyalty to me, and I’ll take you both—”
“…and we’ll tear this whole sea apart!”
“WORORORORO!!!”
Kaido’s booming laugh echoed through the stone prison, shaking the very walls. Dust and mortar fell like snow from the ceiling, as if the entire world was trembling.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 169: Chapter 71: Kaido’s Offer
Summary:
"Power may demand obedience, but only trust and respect can forge true loyalty."
Chapter Text
“Wororororo…”
Kaido’s wild, guttural laughter echoed endlessly through the shadowy prison.
It echoed…
And echoed…
And echoed some more…
Yeah. It went on for quite a while.
Then finally, the laughter faded, until it vanished entirely.
And Kaido was left standing there, smile frozen mid-curl.
Because in front of him, the two half-dead brats he’d captured—Darren and Bullet—were staring at him like he was some kind of moron.
Completely unmoved.
Kaido: “…”
“You two… didn’t hear me?”
He grit his teeth. His vertical pupils narrowed as he turned to the barely-breathing Douglas Bullet and growled:
“Douglas Bullet. I know who you are. I know you well.”
“You’re from that ‘nation of endless war’ on the Grand Line. Betrayed by your country, betrayed by your commanding officers—you razed your homeland to the ground in a fit of rage. The World Government’s been after you ever since.”
“The Marines are tracking your every move. They even sent two ‘monsters’ to hunt you down…”
He flicked a glance at Darren before continuing, voice smooth, coaxing.
“There’s no place left in this world for you.”
“Even if you survive this time, next time the Navy will send someone stronger. Stronger than them.”
“Only I can give you shelter…”
“Join me, and neither CP nor the Marines will be able to touch you.”
“Well?”
“Become one of my All-Stars. I can give you that rank. I know what you crave—fighting, bloodshed, power.”
“And I’m going to start the greatest war this world has ever seen. That battlefield will be your stage. Drenched in blood, your name—Douglas Bullet—will echo across the sea!”
Kaido was full of thunder now, chest rising with each breath, his voice booming like a war drum.
This guy really did his homework, Darren thought to himself, a bit impressed.
Kaido might look like a blunt-force beast, but in truth—he was sharp, calculating, and downright cunning.
In the original timeline, he’d manipulated the shogun Orochi, overthrown the Kozuki clan, and claimed resource-rich Wano as his fortress.
He even staged "coincidental suicides" by leaping off Sky Islands, all to draw in and recruit the strongest pirates of the Worst Generation.
If he knows this much about Bullet, Darren mused, then maybe showing up on that island wasn’t a coincidence at all…
“Join me, Bullet!!”
Kaido extended his massive, tattooed hand.
But what met him was a glare filled with disdain.
Bullet, slumped against the wall like a wreck, bloodied and barely breathing… was grinning.
He bared bloodied teeth in a crooked smile—wounded, yes, but proud.
“I refuse.”
He rasped.
Kaido blinked.
“Why?”
There was anger under his voice now.
“Why?”
Bullet coughed, every breath a knife in his ribs.
His pale face twisted into a feral grin, crimson eyes glowing with madness and defiance.
“Your strength and presence are greater than anyone I’ve ever fought…”
“But even all that isn’t enough to make me, Douglas Bullet, submit.”
He gave a dry laugh.
“My target is Gol D. Roger.”
“Kaido of the Beasts—you think you’re stronger than him?”
Kaido froze.
His expression flickered for a moment. Then he turned—pretending he hadn’t heard that—and looked toward Darren.
“Rogers Darren!!”
“I know you too. I know your type!”
Oh come on, not the exact same script… Darren’s mouth twitched.
But Kaido didn’t see the reaction. He was back into full speech mode, his voice rising with each line, his conviction returning.
“In the North Blue, you were known as a disgrace—a corrupt, filthy, womanizing scumbag!”
“Greedy for power, hoarding wealth, building your own army… You’re not fit to wear a Marine’s uniform.”
“Wororororo! You’re better suited to piracy, kid!!”
“Whatever the Marines can give you—I can do better!”
“Money. Authority. Troops. Territory. And of course, women—more than you can count! Whatever you want, I can give it to you!”
“I see ambition burning in your eyes.”
“And the best part—once you’re a pirate, you don’t have to wear that fake uniform anymore. You can openly take what you want!”
“No rules. No chains. Just destruction, conquest, and possession!”
“That’s the ultimate freedom of a pirate! That’s what it means to own the sea!”
Kaido’s slitted eyes gleamed with feral light in the dark.
“Join me! I’ll make you an All-Star of the Beasts Pirates!!”
“The free sea is waiting for you!!”
With pride written all over his face, he reached out his hand to Darren.
Darren looked at him… and raised an eyebrow.
Gotta admit, he thought, the guy’s thorough. He’s even trying to recruit a Marine.
Then again, with Darren’s… colorful reputation, it wasn’t that shocking.
“I have to admit,” Darren exhaled slowly, voice calm. “Everything you said is… honestly kind of tempting.”
Bullet shot him a surprised glance.
“So you’re saying… you’re in?”
Kaido’s eyes widened with anticipation, a grin blooming across his face.
“No. I refuse.”
Darren shook his head.
Kaido’s smile cracked.
“Why!? What’s wrong with being a pirate?! Don’t tell me all those rumors—those awful habits—they’re not true?!”
He shouted in fury, voice shaking the prison walls.
“No, they’re all true.”
Darren raised his head, eyes calm and resolute.
“Money, power, territory, women—I want all of it.”
Bullet: …
Kaido: …
“THEN WHY?!”
Kaido roared.
“…Because I’d rather take it all as a Marine.”
A flicker of something sharp and righteous burned in Darren’s gaze.
“Somehow, it just feels more fun that way.”
Bullet: …
Kaido: …
“YOU DAMN BRAT!! YOU’RE MOCKING ME!!”
Kaido’s face twisted with rage. His killing intent burst forth in a thunderous roar that shook the entire prison.
The pressure radiating off him cracked the walls and bent the steel bars.
“YOU’RE BOTH MOCKING ME!!”
He snatched up his giant kanabo—Hassaikai—and his pupils flared blood-red with fury.
As soon as his hand gripped the weapon, black-red lightning arced around him. His Conqueror’s Haki tore through the air.
Darren and Bullet both staggered under the wave of force. Blood trickled from the corners of their mouths.
“Boss Kaido! Wait—WAIT!! Calm down!!”
A round, waddling figure burst into the prison—an enormous man built like a ball of meat, arms flailing.
He threw himself onto Kaido’s arm in a panic.
“If you smash them now, in the shape they’re in… they’ll die on the spot!!”
Chomping on a cigar, wearing flashy sunglasses, and a gold-braided ponytail bouncing with every step—he was chaos in human form.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 170: Chapter 72: Conqueror’s Haki
Summary:
“They can crush your bones—but it’s your spirit that says whether you kneel… or stand.”
Chapter Text
Crackling black-and-red lightning surged through the air, swirling like a storm. The pressure from Kaido’s Conqueror’s Haki was so dense and physical, it threatened to rip the entire steel prison apart.
Sweating bullets, the giant round-bellied man clutching Kaido’s arm trembled all over, even his jowls quivering.
“Boss! You finally got them back here—smashing them now would be such a waste!!”
“Please, Boss Kaido! Cool it!!”
Darren pushed himself up from the blood-slicked floor, gasping for air. Through half-lidded eyes, he took a look at the frantic, clownish man.
Aside from the long gold braid at the back, his head was completely bald. He had a gold mustache, dark shades, and an exaggerated, bouncing expression. Despite the urgency in his voice, he spoke with a strange rhythm—almost like he was rapping.
On his left arm: a mechanical prosthetic. His right bicep bore a dark tattoo with the word Queen and the Beasts Pirates’ Jolly Roger. He wore black-and-white striped overalls and had the aura of someone who took himself very unseriously.
This was Queen the Plague—one of the All-Stars of the Beasts Pirates.
Like Vinsmoke Judge, Queen was once part of MADS, the outlaw science group led by Vegapunk. Beyond his formidable combat power, he was also a deranged genius in bio-weapons and deadly tech.
Kaido glanced at his two prisoners—Darren and Bullet—both coughing blood, barely conscious. Gritting his teeth, he growled in frustration.
“Damn brats!!”
He panted, rage thick in every breath. But then—finally—he withdrew his Haki. As if venting the last of his anger, he slammed his kanabo into the ground, leaving behind a massive crater.
As Kaido’s aura receded, both Darren and Bullet collapsed against the wall like broken puppets, too drained to move.
But then Darren noticed something… odd.
After taking hit after hit from Kaido’s Conqueror’s Haki, his own sense of that power—the internal force—had become clearer somehow.
Within the perception matrix of his innate “instinct talent,” his mental status screen shifted.
Status: Critically Weakened
Physique: 70.112 (+0.777)
Strength: 68.339 (+1.891)
Speed: 67.991 (+1.310)
Devil Fruit: 77.197 (+0.915)
Armament Haki: 30.119 (+1.851)
Conqueror’s Haki: 50.017 (+0.630)
Physique, Strength, Speed, Devil Fruit, and Armament—these gains came from his brutal battle against Douglas Bullet.
But he was now badly wounded and out of stamina—completely spent.
As for Conqueror’s Haki… the number wasn’t absolute. It was based on his own estimate, informed by Kaido’s surging aura, and memories of legends like Garp and Roger.
Still, one thing stood out.
Every time he’d taken the full brunt of Kaido’s Conqueror’s Haki, his own had grown—just a little.
Was he adapting? Building resistance to it? Becoming attuned?
The thought made Darren’s expression turn strange. A dozen new ideas sparked in his mind.
Seeing Kaido finally cool off, Queen let out a long sigh of relief.
He glanced at Darren and Bullet, his beady little eyes twinkling.
Then he gave a sly grin.
“Boss Kaido, how about you leave them to me?”
“With my methods, it won’t take more than a few days before they’re screaming in agony and begging to join your crew.”
Kaido’s vertical pupils locked onto him suspiciously.
“You sure, Queen?”
Queen gave a wicked little giggle. He lit a fresh cigar, flexed his flabby muscles in a showy pose, and puffed with satisfaction.
“Of course I’m sure. Leave it to me!”
His eyes sparkled like a kid who’d just been handed a new toy.
These two are strong, he thought. Perfect experimental subjects.
“…Fine.”
Kaido considered for a moment, then nodded.
The New World was growing unstable. So much was happening at once, and his forces were stretched thin.
Yes—Darren and Bullet had both immense strength and terrifying potential. If recruited successfully, they could become powerful assets in his path to dominance.
But he couldn’t afford to spend all his time babysitting these two.
According to the latest intel, that bastard Roger had been spotted meeting with Whitebeard—drawing the Marine’s top dogs deeper into New World waters.
As a result, several of Kaido’s outer operations had taken serious damage—ambushed or dismantled in the chaos.
He needed to reorganize his forces, re-secure his territory, and—most importantly—figure out what Roger and Whitebeard were planning.
Compared to him, those two bastards knew a lot more about the secrets of the sea.
After all, it was Whitebeard who’d introduced Kaido to Rocks D. Xebec, back when Kaido was still a rookie—and led him to join the Rocks Pirates as an apprentice.
The God Valley Incident had erupted far too suddenly. Many of the Rocks crew’s secrets had been lost in the fallout…
But maybe Roger and Whitebeard still knew something.
If they got to the legendary treasure first—
The thought made Kaido’s face darken. He hefted his spiked kanabo over his shoulder and gave one last glare at his prisoners.
“Ten days from now, I’ll return.”
“By then, brats… I want your final answer.”
With that ultimatum, Kaido turned and stomped off—his massive frame making the floor quake with every step.
He ascended the slanted stone stairs, passing through the carved-out mountain tunnels. Along the way, pirates in beast pelts and horned helmets bowed deeply at his approach.
Kaido didn’t spare them a glance.
He strode through the checkpoints, past the guards, until finally—he emerged at the surface.
A barren wasteland stretched out before him. Not a blade of grass in sight. Dust swirled in the dry wind, painting the world in yellow-brown haze.
In the distance, enormous black forges glowed with red fire. Hammers rang against anvils. Smoke rose in great columns toward the sky.
Suddenly, a black shadow swooped down from the sky.
Black wings spread wide before folding with a quiet shff as a tall, dark figure landed in front of Kaido.
“Kaido-san… they refused?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 171: Chapter 73: The Torture Begins
Summary:
“A true prisoner isn’t bound by chains, but by control of the spirit — and some spirits were never meant to be broken.”
Chapter Text
The man who appeared was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried an air of still, unshakable power.
Clad entirely in black, not a trace of skin was visible. A sleek helmet and visor masked his face, projecting a presence both deadly and cold.
A long sword hung at his waist. Behind his head and around his black wings, crimson flames flickered and danced.
This was none other than the All-Star of the Beasts Pirates: King the Wildfire — real name Alber.
Seeing the shadow on Kaido’s face, Alber immediately understood: the recruitment hadn’t gone well.
Kaido shook his head, his voice simmering with frustration.
"Those two have too much pride. They won’t submit so easily."
Then he paused… and suddenly laughed.
"One’s a machine of war who wiped out an entire nation's army. The other’s a Marine monster who took down Byrnndi World and even gave Roger trouble…"
"If they surrendered to me that easily, it’d be no fun at all."
Alber caught the admiration gleaming in Kaido’s eyes and frowned slightly.
"Kaido-san, if they refuse to submit… keeping them alive may not be wise."
He spoke carefully, but the warning was clear.
Though only seventeen or eighteen, Alber was cool-headed, methodical, and far more mature than his years suggested.
As Kaido’s right-hand man, his job was to prevent his captain from doing anything irreparably stupid.
—Though, truth be told, Alber had followed Kaido precisely because of his reckless stupidity.
Getting caught by the Marines on purpose… planning the world’s largest war… Some would call it a man’s romance. Others would call it sheer lunacy.
"They’re wild beasts. If anything goes wrong and they escape, they could expose our base."
Kaido chuckled.
"Alber, I’m lucky to have you as my right hand."
He used Alber’s real name — a secret only the two of them shared.
"But I believe they’ll come around."
Kaido’s voice radiated confidence.
"Especially Rogers Darren — the so-called 'disgrace of the Marines'. A man like him was born to be a pirate."
"For him to wear the Marine’s coat… what a waste."
"He’ll realize soon enough — the open sea is where he truly belongs."
"As for Douglas Bullet… I saw it in his eyes — that hunger for strength, the raw ambition. He’ll be easier to sway."
"I’ll give him a few days to recover. Then I’ll offer him a proper fight."
"And when that time comes… I’ll show them both what it means to face the Strongest Creature Alive."
"I’ll crush their spirits — with overwhelming power!!"
"Wororororo!!"
Kaido threw back his head and let loose a thunderous laugh, raising his kanabo high.
His laughter echoed across the sky, as if the earth itself trembled.
Alber stared in reverent silence… but his fists quietly clenched.
I hope you’re right, Kaido-san…
---
In the prison below —
"Muhahaha…"
Sinister laughter echoed in the dimness as Queen twirled happily before his two new “toys.”
The flickering firelight danced over his oversized body, showcasing shocking flexibility despite his bulk. The sight was so absurd that Darren and Bullet couldn’t help twitching at the corners of their mouths.
They exchanged a glance.
Is he stupid?
Who knows…
Maybe it was the shared misfortune, but there was a strange sense of kinship forming between them.
"I saw that look!! Don’t think the sunglasses make me blind!"
Queen abruptly stopped dancing and stormed toward the cell, cigar clenched in his teeth as he pressed his pudgy face grotesquely through the bars.
"Looking at the great scientist Queen-sama like that… you need a little punishment."
Grinning darkly, Queen unlocked the cell with a loud click.
"You may be helpless, but for testing purposes…"
He gingerly lifted two sets of shackles with his cybernetic arm and locked them onto Darren and Bullet.
They were too weak to resist. They could only watch as the cuffs snapped into place.
Click!
Darren’s eyes widened, pupils contracting.
A wave of exhaustion hit him like a flood. He gripped the bars like a drowning man clutching driftwood.
Bullet collapsed completely, unable to move.
Seastone cuffs.
And pure-grade, at that.
"Muhahaha… Even in the Beasts Pirates, these are rare."
Queen puffed out his gut proudly.
"Now then, let’s begin…"
With a hiss, Queen’s cybernetic arm reshaped into a syringe. The thin needle gleamed menacingly.
Darren and Bullet both tensed. Their hearts dropped, cold sweat beading down their spines.
Helpless, bound, and stared down by a maniac wielding a needle, even their iron wills began to fray.
Their scalps tingled.
"Don’t worry. I won’t let you die so easily."
"Unlike those knockoff hacks from Germa 66, I’m the real deal — Queen, the world’s top scientist!"
He pulled out a case of sealed test tubes, each glowing faintly.
"Behold! The Mummy Virus — my latest masterpiece!"
He held up a vial of glowing green fluid, raising it dramatically.
"I’ll dial it down just enough to make it unbearable. You won’t die — but you’ll wish you could. Muhahaha!!"
Without waiting, Queen drew the virus into the syringe and lumbered over to Darren.
"You’re less injured — let’s start with you, Marine."
The shining needle rose — reflected in Darren’s trembling eyes — and plunged toward his neck.
Snap!
The needle broke.
Darren: "...?"
Bullet: "...??"
Queen: "...??????"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 172: Chapter 74: The Perfect Test Subject
Summary:
"For some, suffering is not a breaking point but an opportunity to forge a stronger, more resilient self."
Chapter Text
"This... how is this even possible?!"
Queen’s jaw dropped. His eyes bulged so wide they looked ready to pop out of their sockets as he stared at the snapped needle in stunned disbelief.
His syringes were crafted from some of the most resilient metals available—specifically designed to penetrate not just human flesh, but the hides and scales of dangerous beasts. Some of his experimental creatures had skin tougher than stone, yet his needle could pierce through them like butter.
But now… it had broken. Just like that.
What is this guy’s body made of? Steel?
Queen shuffled closer, stunned, and reached out to run his hands across Darren’s body. Darren flinched, goosebumps rising instantly.
“Unbelievable…”
The more Queen examined him, the more his expression shifted—from shock, to fascination, to maniacal glee. His small eyes lit up with a fiery obsession, his fat face quivering with excitement.
“Skin as tough as steel... muscles as dense and springy as volcanic rock...”
"Muhahaha!! This is perfect! You’re the ideal specimen!”
He threw his arms up and practically shouted, flushed with joy.
“You, Marine—you’re exactly the test subject I’ve been looking for!”
Then he muttered, “Well, I mean, the perfect specimen would be boss Kaido, but... he’d kill me, so—this works.”
Queen looked Darren over again like a collector admiring a priceless artifact.
“Ordinary subjects can’t handle my viruses. Even the mildest dosages drop them in seconds.”
“But you? Hehehe... oh, you’ll last.”
Grinning grotesquely, Queen wiped a bit of drool from his mouth and turned toward Bullet.
“Well, no reason to rush now. Let’s check out your structure too.”
With another repulsive giggle, Queen waddled over and began pawing at Bullet—pinching, prodding, squeezing.
“You disgusting pig! I swear I’ll kill you!!”
Bullet roared through gritted teeth, face bright red from fury. But injured and shackled with seastone, he was powerless.
“Resistance is meaningless,” Queen cooed. “Scream all you like. No one’s coming.”
He puffed his cigar, thrust out his massive gut, and struck a ridiculous flexing pose.
“Don’t underestimate the appeal of being fat. I chose this form! If I were thin, I’d be too charming! Muhahaha!!”
He turned back toward Darren again.
“Your physique’s not bad either. Like a dinosaur, really... not bad at all.”
Queen’s beady eyes darted between the two men. Then, with a chuckle, he replaced the broken needle with a fresh one.
He approached Darren again and, with a grunt, activated Armament Haki. Inky black haki flowed like liquid down his arm and coated the syringe.
The silver needle darkened, gleaming with a sharp obsidian shine.
“This should do the trick…”
Queen moved in and jabbed the needle into Darren’s neck.
This time, with the haki boost, it punched through his skin and muscle, digging deep into the vein.
Darren grunted through clenched teeth.
(Stabbed, shot, crushed—he never made a sound. But one little needle… and he grunted.
Funny how even monsters flinch at what every child fears.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
“Now, try my latest virus. This one will make hell itself feel like a hot spring. Muhahaha…”
Queen injected the glowing green liquid into his bloodstream.
Thump!
Darren’s heart slammed in his chest.
His pupils shrank to pinpoints as blood vessels exploded red across his eyes.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each beat pounded like thunder in the hollow silence of the cell.
Agony crashed through him.
It was a heat that ignited every nerve, tore through every muscle, and drowned his mind in unbearable fire. He dropped to his knees with a feral roar, hands clawing the ground.
For the first time in his life, he heard his own heartbeat.
In Bullet’s wary gaze, Darren’s skin began turning red before his eyes. Blood seeped from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. A pale steam began rising from his body.
And worst of all—his chest.
Veins bulged across his torso, his heart visibly pulsing through his skin in grotesque rhythm, like it wanted to burst from his chest.
“Hahaha! Can you feel it?!”
“That’s the Mummy Virus! Your body temperature’s spiking, the heat’s burning you alive from the inside!”
Queen danced with delight.
“Your blood’s evaporating! Dehydration will ruin your organs, and soon enough—your body will dry out like a mummy!”
Cackling wildly, he changed the needle and injected Bullet with the same virus.
Bullet gritted his teeth and growled in pain, trembling violently.
“Yes! That’s it! That exquisite agony!”
Queen quickly rigged both men with monitoring devices, tracking their vitals while scribbling notes at lightning speed.
“Temperature’s over 50 degrees…”
“Blood loss from evaporation... organs beginning to shut down after just five seconds...”
“Heart rate over 120 bpm… blood pressure dropping... Tsk, tsk, tsk… a normal human would be dead by now.”
In full research mode, Queen looked strangely focused—his plump face tightened with intense professionalism.
“Almost done…”
Three minutes later, he lowered his pen with a sigh of satisfaction.
He looked at his thick notebook, now filled with valuable new data, and smiled proudly.
Darren and Bullet were collapsed on the floor, gasping, their faces deathly pale. Sweat soaked the ground beneath them.
“Well, that’s it for today’s experiment.”
“We’ve got nine more days. Don’t you dare give out too soon. I want you broken slowly.”
Queen puffed a smoke ring, locked the cell, and waddled off down the corridor.
Darren lay still, panting, glaring after the bouncing figure.
Then—his eyes widened.
Wait… what is this feeling?
Something strange.
He could feel his body… changing.
If this were a game, a screen might appear with notifications:
Physique +0.04
Physique +0.04
Physique +0.03
Physique +0.05...
...This works too?!
---
To be continued...
Chapter 173: Chapter 75: That Makes Sense
Summary:
“True growth hides in pain we don’t understand—until we survive it.”
Chapter Text
What… just happened?
Wasn’t he just injected by that fat bastard Queen?
—Wait, no. That sounds wrong.
Wasn’t he just injected by that fat bastard Queen… with the Mummy Virus?
So why—after three minutes of brutal suffering—did he feel stronger?
That… can’t be right.
Even after all the chaos he’d survived since arriving in this world—even after fighting legends like Byrnndi World and Gol D. Roger—Darren found himself utterly baffled.
Viruses were supposed to weaken the body.
Queen had said it himself: the Mummy Virus inflicted unbearable heat that surpassed human limits, triggering blood evaporation, extreme dehydration, and eventual organ failure.
So why did it feel like his constitution had just improved?
Was this even… reasonable?
Darren’s thoughts kicked into overdrive.
He was already injured—his body pushed beyond its limit.
Now came the virus, hammering down with devastating pressure.
But then… Queen’s words echoed in his head:
> “Relax. I’m not gonna let you die that easily.”
Wait a minute—
A wild and absurd idea exploded in Darren’s mind like lightning:
Queen never intended to kill us. Kaido gave orders.
He just wanted us as test subjects. That’s why he used low dosages.
And he constantly monitored our vitals with precision instruments—to make sure we didn’t die from the virus.
Low risk… high stress… controlled internal damage…
This was basically the exact training method Darren had used his whole life!
The realization hit like a slap.
Queen’s “torture” was unintentionally helping him break past his limits.
And the most ridiculous part?
Just three minutes of viral torment had boosted his Physique stat by nearly a full point.
That might not sound like much…
But at Darren’s current level—70 in Physique—every gain was monumental. Even Kaido, the so-called “The Strongest Creature” probably maxed out at 100.
Improving from 70 to 71 was like training under Admiral-level conditions for half a month.
And the higher the number, the slower the growth.
But now—
Now, he realized something else.
This stress? It wasn’t strengthening just his skin, muscle, or bones. It was enhancing his organs.
His internal durability. His recovery. His metabolic resistance.
The kind of reinforcement normal combat training couldn’t touch.
No one trains their guts.
Suddenly, Darren thought of Kaido’s infamous near-invincibility.
His legendary “indestructible body” wasn’t just about surface-level toughness. It was a full-spectrum, all-layers resilience.
Even masters of Haki like Zoro, Kin’emon, and Killer had barely scratched him. They might have landed hits, but they never stopped him.
Even when hurt, Kaido’s organs didn’t shut down. He kept fighting like a beast.
That was real physical dominance.
Darren had spent years trying to figure out how to train his insides—but he’d never made progress.
Now Queen, of all people… had handed him the key.
Queen… is making me stronger.
He blinked. Then frowned.
Wait—is this really okay?
He seriously thought about it.
And came to one conclusion.
This is perfectly reasonable.
Training, after all, was about applying pressure just short of death, then adapting.
Queen’s methods checked every box:
—Precise vitals monitoring, ensuring no fatal damage.
—Calibrated virus dosage, pushing the body to its brink without lasting harm.
—All tailored to Kaido’s desire to recruit him.
Darren exhaled slowly.
The blazing pain had started to fade. He could breathe again.
Lifting his head slightly, he turned to look at Bullet—then froze.
Bullet’s expression was just as strange.
Darren: …
Bullet: …
Darren blinked.
Bullet blinked.
They both twitched at the corners of their mouths.
Nothing needed to be said.
He’s getting stronger too…
They glanced at each other, then looked away, minds reaching the same thought.
Silence fell once more across the cell.
After a while, Darren pushed through the weakness of the seastone cuffs and picked up the meal tray that had been shoved in through the bars.
He grabbed a piece of dried meat and started eating.
It was tough, flavorless, and utterly uninspired—but food was food.
In moments like this, calories meant recovery.
Bullet hesitated.
Years of military habit, betrayal, and mistrust made him wary of anything—especially enemy provisions.
But then—
“If they wanted to kill us, they would’ve done it already. No point in poisoning the food.”
Darren muttered around a mouthful.
Bullet paused.
Then slowly, wordlessly, reached out and began eating too.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 174: Chapter 76: Not to Say?
Summary:
“The truth doesn’t wait for permission—only for someone foolish enough to say it aloud.”
Chapter Text
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
Inside the Fleet Admiral's office, the air was suffocating. Not even the potted plants in the corners dared to rustle, as if holding their breath.
“Fleet Admiral Kong, that’s the full situation... Kaido of the Beasts suddenly forced his way into the battle, completely disrupted our operation to capture Douglas Bullet, and abducted Commodore Rogers Darren.”
Sakazuki stood tall, a lit cigar clenched between his teeth. His complexion was deathly pale, voice heavy with exhaustion and fury. Beneath the wide Marine coat draped over his shoulders, his torso was bare—wrapped in blood-soaked bandages that testified to the hell he’d just survived.
“Darren was acting as my second-in-command for this operation. Him being captured by a pirate… was my failure.”
His tone was bitter cold, like magma cooling into obsidian.
“I am willing to take full responsibility for the outcome.”
The room was packed with top brass. Garp alone was absent, still operating in the New World. The others had gathered under the weight of this unexpected crisis.
Sengoku, seated near the center, had his head slightly bowed, fists clenched beneath the table.
This mission… had been his idea.
He had personally arranged for Darren to leave training camp temporarily and follow Sakazuki into combat.
And now Darren had been taken—by Kaido no less.
Even if Kaido’s sudden arrival wasn’t his fault, there was one person he absolutely couldn’t explain this to.
Zephyr.
Darren wasn’t just another recruit. He was the strongest in the history of Marine training camp. Zephyr had placed enormous hope in him.
Fleet Admiral Kong finally opened his mouth, voice low and thunderous.
“I understand, Sakazuki.”
Kong sat at the head of the room, arms crossed over a chest like bronze armor—muscles rippling under every breath.
His severe gaze swept over everyone present before settling on Sakazuki.
“This was not your fault. The situation developed too fast. No one could have predicted that lunatic Kaido would appear out of nowhere.”
Sakazuki’s injuries spoke for themselves. He’d already gone through a brutal battle against Douglas Bullet. That he couldn’t hold his ground against Kaido was understandable.
Kong then pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing quietly.
“As for Zephyr… let’s keep this from him for now.”
He knew Zephyr too well. A proud, emotional man who fiercely protected his students, especially those with potential. With training camp at a critical point, informing him now would only cause chaos.
Better to wait until they had a rescue plan in motion.
But just as the idea was spoken aloud—
“Out of my way!! If you don’t move, I’ll mow you down myself!!”
A furious roar erupted just beyond the doors.
“SENGOKU!! You bastard!! Show your face!! I trusted you with my student—and THIS is how you take care of him?!”
Sengoku’s face turned ghost-white.
Shit!
Who the hell told him?!
He scowled, teeth grinding. Then, as realization struck, his head snapped toward a certain someone casually picking at his nails.
Borsalino.
“I swear—BORSALINO!! What did you do?!”
Everyone in the room winced.
The man in question raised both hands innocently, as if surrendering.
“Apologies, apologies… I ran into Zephyr-sensei while I was out for a stroll. He asked about Darren, so I told him.”
He paused, grinning as he scratched his head.
“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”
Everyone: “…”
Sengoku clutched his chest as if stabbed.
Looking at Borsalino’s eternally punchable smirk, he had to resist the urge to rip those ridiculous sunglasses off and crush them beneath his heel.
(If only Sengoku could catch him… but Borsalino just had to be the fastest man alive ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
He needs to be replaced.
He MUST be replaced.
He was still trembling with fury when—
BOOM!!
The office doors exploded inward, reduced to splinters mid-air.
“SENGOKU!!”
Zephyr stormed in, his short violet hair practically bristling with rage. Behind him, panicked guards struggled to keep up.
He scanned the room once—locked eyes with Sengoku, who was clearly trying to hide—and roared:
“I want an explanation.”
Sengoku opened his mouth, but the words refused to come.
“You son of a—Darren is MY student! He’s the top of this year’s training camp!!”
As Sengoku remained silent, Zephyr’s fury boiled over. He rolled up his sleeves, muscles bulging, and stomped forward.
“Zephyr-sensei, please!”
“Calm down, sir!”
“Don’t do this, teacher!”
Officers and vice admirals rushed forward, grabbing his arms and legs, desperately trying to restrain him.
“Let go of me!! I’ve had it with this fool!!”
Zephyr snarled, face red with fury.
“‘Tactician’ my ass—he’s just a damn idiot!!”
“Today, I’m shattering those glasses! And roasting that goat for dinner!!”
Sengoku’s patience snapped.
The report made it clear—his strategy hadn’t been wrong. Darren had been the best possible counter to Bullet’s fruit. If not for Kaido, the mission would’ve succeeded.
Fuming, he rolled up his own sleeves.
“Let him go!” he barked. “If he’s lost his mind, I’ll knock it straight!”
The officers nearly cried.
Zephyr: “COME ON THEN!!”
Sengoku: “What’ll you do with your soft Haki, huh?!”
Zephyr: “Don’t cry when I break your nose!!”
Sengoku: “Don’t make me slap you in front of your own student!!”
The two lunged, shoving aside everyone in their path.
And then—
“—ENOUGH!!”
BOOOOM!!
Fleet Admiral Kong slammed his massive palm on the desk.
The impact shattered it into rubble, paper flying, walls trembling.
“THIS IS THE FLEET ADMIRAL’S OFFICE!! NOT YOUR DAMN TRAINING GROUND!!”
Black-and-red lightning cracked across the air as a shockwave swept through the room, sending wind and documents scattering.
“You both want a fight?! Then come fight ME!!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 175: Chapter 77: The Rescue Plan
Summary:
"In justice's halls, tempers spark wars, but true command lies in planning, not striking."
Chapter Text
The Marineford headquarters trembled as Fleet Admiral Kong's fury erupted like a roaring storm, rattling even the solid stone walls. Hairline cracks spread across the surface like spiderwebs, as if the room itself had winced under his wrath.
Sengoku and Zephyr, faces nearly pressed together mid-argument, immediately froze. Shoulders hunched, they exchanged one last venomous glare before quietly and obediently sitting back in their seats like chastised schoolboys.
"You two idiots… have you no shame?"
Kong’s voice still crackled with residual thunder. He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, before settling heavily back into his chair. Lighting a thick cigar, he took a long, sharp drag, exhaling a plume of smoke before fixing his gaze on Zephyr. The old admiral’s expression softened ever so slightly.
"Zephyr, I know you're anxious," Kong said with a sigh. "But calm yourself. If I’m not mistaken, that kid Darren should still be alive—for now."
Zephyr blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The fear for his student had overwhelmed his usually sharp instincts. But now, with Kong’s reassurance, his mind began to settle.
"Tsuru," Kong gestured, prompting the Great Staff Officer to speak.
She nodded, her eyes gleaming with quiet intelligence. Her voice was composed and calm.
"If Kaido had wanted Darren dead, he would've killed him on the spot. He had ample opportunity on that island. Taking him alive implies other motives."
Zephyr finally relaxed a little. Then he shot Sengoku a look of smug triumph—as if to say: See? Now that’s strategic thinking.
Sengoku’s face twitched slightly. He clenched his jaw but said nothing.
After all, it had been his suggestion to let Darren leave the training camp and assist in the mission. And if he hadn’t, Darren might still be safe and sound back in his barracks.
"So then, Tsuru," Zephyr asked, now more serious, "what do you think Kaido’s real goal is, taking both Darren and Douglas Bullet?"
Tsuru paused, considering carefully. Her tone turned grave.
"Ever since the war that ended the Rocks era, the New World has only become more unstable. Kaido’s been building his strength—recruiting, expanding, fortifying."
"The Beast Pirates now number over a thousand strong, including his two lead 'All-Stars': King the Wildfire and Queen the Plague."
She looked around the room, ensuring everyone was following.
"If my guess is correct, Kaido intends to recruit Darren and Douglas Bullet into his ranks."
A wave of unease rippled through the room.
"You sure about that?" Zephyr asked, frowning deeply.
"Recruiting Bullet makes sense," he continued. "He’s already a wanted man—destroyed his own country and turned against his military. The government has a bounty on his head. Kaido could offer him sanctuary."
"But Darren? He’s a Marine."
Zephyr’s face twisted into a mix of disbelief and disdain.
"Kaido must be delusional if he thinks he can turn my student. That boy’s the top of his class—he represents the future of justice itself!"
He laughed heartily at the absurdity.
But the laughter stopped short.
A few of the officers were looking at Zephyr… oddly.
One Vice Admiral hesitantly raised a hand. "Um, sir… in the North Blue, Commodore Darren didn’t exactly have the best reputation…"
Zephyr’s smile froze.
"Rumor has it he’s… fond of women. Had relations with several nobles' wives and royal princesses…" another rear admiral mumbled.
Veins twitched on Zephyr’s forehead.
"And supposedly he controls enormous sums of unexplained wealth…"
"Yeah, yeah, I heard that too…"
The room buzzed with quiet whispers.
Zephyr’s face was now dark as an abyss.
And then…
Borsalino, ever-smiling, delivered the final blow with a cheerful shrug:
"All things considered, doesn’t Darren seem more suited to being a pirate than a Marine?"
Zephyr placed a hand over his heart. It wasn’t metaphorical pain anymore.
"Enough," Kong groaned, pinching his temple. "You’re all giving me a headache."
He turned to Sengoku.
"And you, quit smirking!"
Sengoku snapped upright, stifling his grin.
Kong looked back at Zephyr.
"You don’t need to worry. I don’t believe Darren would ever betray the Marines."
His voice grew firm.
"If that boy intended to go rogue, he would’ve done it back in the North Blue."
He hesitated. "Sure, he’s… unconventional. But he’s good—well, mostly."
Zephyr twitched again.
Kong, for the love of justice, stop hesitating already!
Kong cleared his throat.
"Enough about that. Let’s talk strategy. We need to formulate a rescue plan."
He turned again to Tsuru.
She nodded crisply.
"We’re gathering intelligence now. Kaido’s territory in the New World spans over thirty islands, counting both core and fringe holdings."
Her voice was sharp and serious.
"He’s cautious and shrewd. The precise location of his base remains unknown. But one thing we’re fairly certain of…"
Her eyes darkened.
"It’s near Wano Country."
That name alone cast a shadow over the room.
Wano—one of the New World's most powerful military nations. Its strength was second only to Elbaf, the land of giants.
The country was fiercely isolationist, with an elite class of warrior samurai, a mountain-fortified geography, and a longstanding hostility to outsiders.
If Marine warships were spotted near Wano’s waters, it could be interpreted as an act of aggression.
And that wasn’t just a military issue.
The political fallout could be catastrophic.
Because Wano wasn’t just any country.
It was the world’s sole known producer of seastone—the very resource that powered the Marine’s most vital anti-Devil Fruit weapons.
Nearly all of the World Government’s seastone weaponry came from Wano’s shadowy trade routes.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 176: Chapter 78: Volunteering?
Summary:
“When justice fractures into politics, and even the steadfast quarrel, who bears the weight of action?”
Chapter Text
As Great Staff Officer Tsuru finished delivering her report, a heavy silence settled over the gathered Marine officers. Their expressions darkened, brows tightly furrowed.
“So what you're saying is… we can't deploy Marine ships to conduct a wide-scale search in the waters near Wano?”
Sengoku murmured, his chin resting on his interlocked fingers, his face grave.
As the representative of the “strategic faction” within the Marines, Sengoku approached most matters with a degree of caution.
Wano, despite its formidable strength, was a closed country—highly sensitive to foreign intervention.
Launching a large-scale search near its territorial waters would undoubtedly spark massive political pressure, and potentially provoke armed conflict.
“No. I disagree.”
Sakazuki suddenly cut in, his voice cold and firm.
That chilling, raspy tone—laced with killing intent—swept through the office like a blade of ice.
Everyone turned to him in shock.
Sakazuki rose slowly from his seat, his body wrapped in bloodstained bandages. A lit cigarette hung from his lips as he stared blankly at Fleet Admiral Kong seated at the head.
“Fleet Admiral Kong, retrieving Rogers Darren is of critical importance to us Marines. Every additional day he remains within the Beasts Pirates increases the danger he faces.”
“This isn’t just a matter of pride anymore…”
“Don’t forget the power of Darren’s Devil Fruit.”
Those words made Kong, Sengoku, and the others visibly react.
That’s right!
Darren’s Devil Fruit ability—and the potential of the Marine aerial fleet!
There was no way they could allow Darren to fall into Kaido’s hands.
Kong took a long pull from his cigar and fixed Sakazuki with a penetrating stare before asking,
“So what do you propose?”
Sakazuki answered icily:
“Deploy a Marine fleet. Search the area directly! We could even use this opportunity to strike down the Beasts Pirates!”
“—Absolutely not!” Sengoku shot to his feet, his expression hard as steel.
“Such a large-scale military operation will certainly provoke Wano. If their ruling powers perceive it as a threat and declare war, the consequences will be catastrophic!”
Sakazuki sneered and cast Sengoku a cutting glance, his tone unyielding:
“Are you that afraid of a nation hiding behind its closed doors, Admiral Sengoku? A bunch of samurai clinging to outdated rituals and hollow traditions—such people can’t stand up to Marine firepower!”
“And wasn’t it always said that Wano planned to open its borders? If they won’t do it themselves, we Marines can blast the doors open for them.”
“If we act swiftly and seize control of Wano, the government won’t punish us—they’ll praise us.”
Sengoku snapped,
“Sakazuki! We don’t even know what kind of military power lies within Wano!”
“If we get dragged into a protracted war, our Marine fleet will be isolated in the New World!”
“If other pirate factions strike us while we’re stuck there, our retreat will be completely cut off…”
“—That’s enough!”
Fleet Admiral Kong’s sharp bark halted the argument instantly.
A vein bulged on his forehead, and a dull pain throbbed behind his temples.
“Sakazuki, your thinking is too aggressive. The Marines are not in a position to go to war with both Kaido and Wano at the same time. The priority is to rescue Darren—not to conquer Wano.”
“Our duty as Marines is to fight pirates and uphold peace, not to ignite war.”
Sakazuki clenched his jaw but fell silent.
Kong sighed and continued,
“Still, Sakazuki does make one valid point. Darren is vital to the future of the Marines. Even the slimmest chance—headquarters must do everything in its power to rescue him.”
“But due to Wano’s political sensitivity, this rescue mission must be executed discreetly and in secret.”
“In that case, I understand. Fleet Admiral, give the order—I’m ready to depart at once,” Sakazuki said resolutely.
But Kong shook his head.
“No, Sakazuki. You’re still injured. Facing Kaido directly would offer no advantage.”
“Moreover, your temperament and approach make you ill-suited for a mission like this.”
Silence followed.
To enter the New World without adequate forces—to infiltrate the Beasts Pirates’ territory… the danger was self-evident.
Kaido’s power was known to all. Even Sakazuki had suffered greatly at his hands. For anyone else, it would mean certain death.
“Then I’ll go!”
Zephyr declared, rising with gravity and urgency in his voice.
Kong and Sengoku exchanged stunned glances.
It was clear now—Zephyr held Darren in high regard… enough to abandon his long-standing refusal to return to direct military duty.
But Kong still shook his head.
“Zephyr, the Elite Officer Training Camp is more important. Don’t forget—you have a group of students waiting for your guidance.”
Zephyr bit down, jaw tight.
“…Then how about I go?”
Just then, a languid voice rang out.
Everyone froze.
All heads turned toward Borsalino, who was casually picking at his nails, their faces filled with disbelief.
Even Sengoku’s mind blanked for a moment—he scratched his ear, wondering if he’d heard wrong.
That guy… actually volunteered!?
Sakazuki raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? With your ability, you may indeed be the best candidate,” Kong said in surprise, studying Borsalino closely.
Borsalino’s Devil Fruit ability gave him unmatched mobility and speed. For a stealth rescue, he had a clear advantage over others.
Even more critical—Darren also possessed long-range flight capability.
Borsalino wouldn’t need to fight Kaido directly. All he had to do was create a window of opportunity—and the two could escape together.
That was something Sakazuki simply couldn’t achieve.
Just as Kong was about to give his approval, a Marine courier rushed in, breathless.
“R-reporting, Fleet Admiral Kong… We’ve just received word from the New World…”
He gasped for air and continued,
“Vice Admiral Garp’s flagship has deviated from its original route—it’s heading toward Wano!”
As soon as the words landed—
Zephyr and Sengoku both froze.
Their eyes met—and in unison, they clenched their jaws, teeth grinding with frustration.
One thought flashed through their minds:
Damn it. That bastard Garp beat us to it!
---
To be continued…
Chapter 177: Chapter 79: This Lineup… A World War?
Summary:
"Even legends carry regrets. But when duty calls them together, the battlefield remembers their names."
Chapter Text
"Moving that fast? Well, that’s Garp for you..."
Fleet Admiral Kong chuckled as he shook his head, a hint of a smile appearing on his face upon hearing the news.
Garp, Zephyr, and Sengoku—those three had all been trained by him personally.
Compared to Sengoku’s prudence and calm, and Zephyr’s stubborn strength, Garp was always the wild card—never following the rules, and always managing to do the unexpected.
Though Garp’s actions were often unreliable, if he was the one making a move, then there was little to worry about regarding Darren’s safety.
Still, Kong hadn’t expected Garp to abandon the pursuit of Roger just to join a rescue mission. That, now—that was rare.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, two figures suddenly appeared before him with a swoosh.
"Fleet Admiral Kong! I request to join the operation!"
"Old man Kong, I’m going too—Darren’s my student!"
Sengoku and Zephyr stood shoulder to shoulder, gritted teeth and all, clearly competing to speak first.
Kong: ???
He stared at the two, momentarily dumbfounded. For a second, he was transported back in time—watching these two squabbling kids rush off after training, fighting over who got to the mess hall first.
"What are you two doing?"
Kong frowned.
"Sengoku, you’re the only Admiral at Marine Headquarters. Your role is special, your responsibilities heavy, and the workload—"
"—All of that can wait, Fleet Admiral," Sengoku cut in firmly, his voice loud and unwavering. "I’ve thought it through—Darren is critical to our future. Our top priority is to get him back from Kaido."
The sheer conviction in his voice made even Kong pause.
Zephyr twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Sengoku shot him a challenging look.
Kong frowned deeper and turned to Zephyr, speaking sincerely.
"Zephyr, you’re the Chief Instructor of the Elite Officer Training Camp. Your teaching responsibilities are—"
"—Those kids are already outstanding," Zephyr declared with finality. "I’ve taught them everything they need. If they can’t learn, it’s not my problem anymore."
Sengoku: "..."
Kong: "..."
Zephyr raised a smug brow at Sengoku.
The other Marines in the room stared in disbelief. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
Come on… No matter how important Darren was, wasn’t he just a Commodore?
Was it really worth having the top three figures at Marine Headquarters falling over each other to rescue him?
Garp, Zephyr, and Sengoku heading to the New World together… Even Roger and Whitebeard never got a response like this!
This lineup—this wasn’t a rescue mission. This looked like the beginning of a world war!
Even when a Celestial Dragon was kidnapped, Garp, Zephyr, and Sengoku hadn’t all moved out like this...
Tsuru rubbed her forehead, a dark line forming above it.
Others might not know, but she understood exactly what those three were thinking.
"What a lively scene... If I ever got captured, I doubt I’d get this kind of treatment," Borsalino said with a lazy chuckle, clearly enjoying the show.
"Indeed. I certainly wouldn’t go," Sakazuki said, dry as ever.
Borsalino’s smile faltered, then stiffened.
"You’ll have no friends if you keep talking like that, Sakazuki."
Sakazuki ignored him, silently puffing on his cigar.
"You people..." Kong let out a long sigh.
"If all of you go running off to save someone, who’ll be left at Headquarters?"
At those words, both Sengoku and Zephyr paused. They were just about to argue again when Kong’s next words left them stunned.
"Then all of you go."
Sengoku and Zephyr: ???
"Are you serious, Fleet Admiral?" Sengoku’s eyes lit up.
Zephyr looked equally shocked.
"Why not?" Kong smiled.
He rose from his seat, expression turning solemn as he gave the order.
"This mission: Admiral Sengoku will serve as commanding officer. Zephyr as vice commander. Rear Admiral Borsalino will accompany you. Select a suitable team and head to the New World for the rescue."
"Ensure strict secrecy. Do everything you can to avoid provoking Wano’s suspicion or hostility."
"Understood?"
At his decisive command, every Marine officer present stood upright at once and replied loudly:
"Yes, Fleet Admiral!!"
They saluted, then turned and quickly left the office.
"Fleet Admiral, are you sure this is wise? Sending both Sengoku and Zephyr on the same mission..." Tsuru asked once the others had gone, finally voicing the concern she’d held back.
Kong had always been strict in his deployment of personnel—decisive and measured.
This wasn’t like him.
Hearing her words, Kong smiled again.
He leaned back into his chair and turned to face the massive floor-to-ceiling window behind him, gazing down at the base.
Under the fierce sunlight, Sengoku and Zephyr’s retreating figures stood out brilliantly.
"Tsuru, do you see it?"
Following Kong’s gaze, Tsuru looked out—and immediately twitched at the corner of her mouth.
She could just make out the two men tugging at each other, deliberately slowing one another down as they walked.
Kong let out a chuckle, smoke curling around his rugged face.
"It’s not a good idea, I know."
"The trainees still need Zephyr. For him to leave just to save one student—it’s unfair to the rest."
"And as the only Admiral, Sengoku has duties only he can fulfill."
As he spoke, a distant look came into Kong’s eyes—as if he were lost in some long-buried memory.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"But you know… it’s been a long time since I saw them fight side by side."
Tsuru froze for a moment at those words, then smiled softly and shook her head.
"I understand now."
Garp, Sengoku, Zephyr… no matter how high they stood now—
Even if they were admired, respected, and followed by countless Marines—
To this seventy-year-old man who had once trained them,
They were still those same unruly, defiant brats from long ago.
Yes… it had been far too long since they’d stood together on the same battlefield.
"Then for now, the camp and Headquarters are in your hands, Tsuru," Kong said with a smile.
"..." At that, Tsuru stopped feeling sentimental altogether.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 178: Chapter 80: Weapons Should Not Have Freedom
Summary:
"A weapon without freedom is just a tool. A weapon that seeks freedom becomes a man."
Chapter Text
The New World — waters near Wano Country.
Prison.
The sweltering air gathered into droplets on the jagged stone ceiling, falling with slow, rhythmic drips. In the empty and deathly still prison, the sound was piercing.
Two bloodstained figures sat in the darkened cell, their wounds no longer bleeding, but still raw.
"Never thought I'd end up locked in the same prison as a Marine... and yet here we are."
Bullet leaned his back against the blood-smeared, freezing wall, head tilted up slightly, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling above.
His long blond hair was matted, caked in dried blood.
Darren rolled his eyes weakly, the corners of his lips twitching.
The high-purity seastone shackles around his wrists drained him like nothing else—his body felt heavier than it ever had.
"Yeah, well… I didn’t think a Marine like me would be imprisoned in a pirate’s dungeon either."
He licked his cracked lips.
"I figured, if I ever got thrown in a cell, it’d be after pulling off something world-shattering. Maybe get a bounty from the World Government and end up in Impel Down or something."
Bullet glanced at him.
"Heard from Kaido that you're a 'monster' among the Marines... Someone like you, they’d do everything to cultivate. With time, you’d definitely become an Admiral. No way they'd let you get captured."
Their battle had left a deep impression on Bullet.
True, the one who'd gone head-to-head with him was that Sakazuki guy.
But Darren’s bizarre Devil Fruit power, his ruthless decisiveness, and precise control of the battlefield made him even more difficult to deal with.
People like that always survived war.
Bullet knew—because he was one of them.
"Who knows?"
Darren gave a crooked smile.
Whether it was the lingering effects of the mummy virus or just blood loss and exhaustion, his consciousness was starting to blur.
"Weren’t you a national hero too? And in the end, the World Government branded you a criminal. The world’s twisted like that—who really understands it?"
Bullet fell silent.
Darren said no more either, leaning against the wall to rest.
"I'm not a deserter."
Bullet spoke suddenly, voice raspy.
"Sakazuki called me one. But I’m not."
He clenched his one remaining hand into a tight fist, veins bulging on the back.
Maybe it was shared misfortune—or maybe just the certainty that Kaido would eventually kill him. Either way, the former enemy now spoke to Darren with an unexpected openness.
"I joined the army when I was eight. Fought countless battles. Every command they gave me—I carried out without hesitation."
"I fought their last war alone. Defeated an entire army by myself."
"I won that war for them. Cut off the enemy general’s head and presented it to our commanding officer and king. I thought that would be the end—my reward would be freedom."
"But when I stepped onto the podium, soaked in blood and victory… what welcomed me wasn’t flowers, wasn’t cheers, wasn’t praise in the eyes of my superiors—"
"It was the cold, empty barrel of a gun."
A bitter sneer tugged at Bullet’s lips.
It wasn’t clear if he was mocking the arrogance of that nation… or his own stupidity.
"They never planned to give me freedom. I was never anything more than a weapon in their hands."
Darren cracked one heavy eyelid open and looked at him, voice flat.
"To those in power, weapons shouldn't have thoughts. And they definitely shouldn't have freedom."
"Especially powerful weapons… If they can't control them, they’ll destroy them—no matter what."
"Because no one wants to be the one staring down the barrel when the weapon decides it’s had enough."
"Exactly!!" Bullet growled, eyes flashing with wild light.
"That’s why I acted!"
"They saw it—what their precious weapon was really capable of!"
He raised his arm, dragging the heavy seastone shackles with a harsh clatter.
"And then I realized—this so-called great empire was so damn fragile."
"Without me, they were nothing!"
"Kahahaha!!"
Bullet threw his head back in crazed laughter, body trembling, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
Darren said nothing.
But perhaps it was just his imagination—in Bullet’s manic laughter, he thought he heard something else hidden deep inside:
A sorrow. A wound that had never really closed.
To destroy the nation he once served… to slaughter comrades he once fought beside… it couldn’t have been easy.
"Hehehehe..."
Bullet’s laughter gradually faded.
"What a damn shame… I was hoping to see for myself the strength of legends like Roger, Whitebeard, and Golden Lion..."
Darren spoke quietly:
"We're not dead yet. Kaido wants to recruit us."
Bullet scoffed and shook his head.
"That’s just temporary. I won’t yield. Once he realizes that, he’ll kill me without a second thought."
"'If a powerful weapon can't be controlled, it must be destroyed'... That’s what you said, isn’t it?"
"But you’re different. With your potential, the Marines will come for you."
"As for me... this is where my path ends."
He whispered hoarsely.
Darren didn’t argue.
To Bullet, it made no difference whether he fell into Kaido’s hands or the Marines’.
It would be either lifelong imprisonment… or execution.
Though Bullet’s military background and strength would make him a valuable asset if recruited—
It was impossible.
The man had annihilated his own nation, his own army. There was no political ground to bring him into the Marines. Doing so would make a mockery of the very concept of “justice.”
And someone betrayed by his own military… would never join another.
"So, Darren. That story—was it true?"
Bullet looked up suddenly, staring straight at Darren.
"You fought Roger… and actually made him suffer? That really happened?"
Darren met his gaze and smirked.
"It’s true."
"Then… was Roger strong?"
"Strong like a demon. Like a god. Compared to him, Kaido isn’t even worthy of shining his boots."
Bullet’s eyes lit up with fierce battle-lust, a wild gleam blazing in them.
"What did you do to him?"
Darren blinked slowly.
"I pulled his pants down."
Bullet froze.
One second.
Two.
Three.
"Kahahahahaha!!!"
His wild laughter echoed through the dark, grim prison.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 179: Chapter 81: Alliance
Summary:
"When steel meets steel, it doesn't always clash. Sometimes, it forged a bond."
Chapter Text
“Interesting!! Too damn interesting!! Kahahaha!!”
Bullet’s eyes burned as he stared at the Marine before him, laughing wildly.
“You’re a hell of a lot more fun than your average Marine!”
Darren smiled faintly.
“You heard him—I’m not your average Marine.”
As he spoke, he pressed one hand against the dark, soot-stained wall and began forcing himself to stand.
With the high-purity seastone shackles weighing him down, every motion was agonizingly slow and strained.
It felt like a mountain had been dropped onto his back. Just standing up brought a sheen of cold sweat to his forehead, his breathing ragged.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Save your strength. What the hell are you trying to do?”
Bullet frowned, eyeing him warily.
“In this state, I’m not in the mood for a deathmatch.”
“Who said anything about a deathmatch?”
Darren’s voice was flat, sweat dripping from his brow and sliding down onto his unshaven chin.
“Then what are you trying to do?”
Bullet couldn’t help asking.
Then, suddenly, his eyes widened—he seemed to be witnessing something absurd.
In the flickering torchlight of the dim prison…
The bloodied Marine, dragging the weight of his seastone shackles, looked up and flashed a beast-like grin.
“What else…?”
Darren’s eyes gleamed with savage intensity.
Gritting his teeth, his bare upper body rippled with strain. Thick veins bulged like coiled snakes across his skin. His joints cracked audibly as he lowered his stance—feet shoulder-width apart…
Hsshh!!
Twin jets of steam blasted from Darren’s nostrils. He let out a low, growling roar as his body dropped down—
“—Training!!”
He squatted low.
And rose—steady and precise.
A textbook-perfect squat.
Bullet’s pupils contracted into slits.
This lunatic…
Even under the intense weakening effects of high-purity seastone… wounded and exhausted to the bone… he chose now to start training!?
The thought had barely flashed through his mind when Darren squatted again.
This time, it was even harder. His spine looked as if it might snap under the invisible weight. Bullet swore he could almost see a mountain crushing down on him.
“Two!”
Darren’s growl echoed like a beast’s roar from deep in his chest.
“Hey, hey, you keep going like this, your body’s going to give out.”
Bullet twitched at the eye, unable to hold back.
“Three!”
Darren didn’t seem to hear. His blood surged through every muscle with each heartbeat. His skin flushed visibly red under the strain.
“Bullet, if you’re that bored, you could help me count.”
Bullet’s expression changed. He grit his teeth and roared,
“You little bastard—don’t you mock me!!”
With that, he too leaned against the wall, groaning through clenched teeth, forcing himself upright—and began training!
Two blood-covered figures, beneath the swaying torches, eyes bloodshot and snarling, began a hellish regime. Despite the seastone’s suppression, they fought back, refusing to yield.
With every motion, their lungs and hearts screamed like they were about to explode.
The pain was blinding.
Their faces twisted like demons, veins bulging wildly.
CLANK CLANK...
The seastone shackles rattled with each motion, clear and sharp.
Four!
Five!
Six!
Seven!
Each squat, simple in any normal state, now became a battle against their own limits.
Yet—
As Bullet kept moving alongside Darren, a strange feeling crept into his chest.
Raised in war, hardened by battlefields and brutal training, Bullet always believed no one could surpass him in ruthlessness toward his own body.
His obsession with becoming “the strongest” forged a mind as hard as steel.
But now…
He found himself shaken.
This Marine—Darren—his resilience, his thirst for self-discipline, his will…
They were in no way inferior to Bullet’s own.
No—he refused to believe anyone could outdo him.
At least when it came to training, Douglas Bullet would not be outdone!
Blood burst from his nostrils, streaking down his face, but his eyes burned bright with madness.
Nine!
Ten!
Eleven!
…
Unknowingly, both men had locked eyes—recognizing the competitive spark in the other.
Three minutes later—
CLANG!
Both collapsed heavily to the floor, panting like beasts.
“T-twenty-five… I-I didn’t lose…”
Bullet gasped, chest rising and falling like a bellows.
Darren’s face had gone paper white, but he still licked his cracked lips and chuckled.
“Didn’t expect you to keep up with my pace…”
Bullet scoffed between ragged breaths.
“So… that’s your l-limit, huh…? I could keep going for days… huff huff... easy stuff… cough cough!!”
He suddenly broke into a fit of coughing, face turning red from the strain.
Darren didn’t reply, just focused on breathing.
His chest felt like it was about to explode.
Truth was, he’d long wanted to try seastone resistance training.
But seastone was rare—especially in the North Blue.
And with his heavy Marine schedule, the chance never came.
He’d planned to request low-purity shackles for gradual training once the camp ended.
But instead, Kaido captured him.
Now, ironically, he was getting the highest purity “treatment” available.
As he caught his breath, Darren realized he couldn’t even lift a finger.
He smiled bitterly and said,
“You were right. Once Kaido realizes we can’t be tamed, he’ll kill us without a second thought.”
Bullet glanced over.
“Doesn’t matter. The Marines will come for you.”
Darren exhaled deeply, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe. But staking my life on someone else showing up… that’s not my style.”
Bullet blinked, suddenly alert.
“What are you planning?”
Darren turned toward him with great effort, took a deep breath, and said,
“Let’s work together.”
Bullet frowned.
He stared deep into Darren’s eyes—then slowly grinned with wild abandon.
“Fine.”
This time, it was Darren’s turn to be surprised.
He hadn’t expected such a quick answer.
“Don’t look so shocked. It’s just one arm.”
As if reading his mind, Bullet sneered.
“Once we survive this… we’ll tear into each other properly.”
Their eyes met—sparks flying invisibly in the air between them.
CRREEAAKK...
The prison door slowly creaked open.
“Muhahaha, well now… you both look lively today…”
A pudgy man in suspenders strolled in, cigar clamped in his teeth, leering shamelessly.
“Very nice. Then let’s begin today’s experiment—hmm?”
Queen froze mid-step.
He had just noticed that both prisoners were staring at him… with glowing eyes, like they’d been waiting for him.
Eyes that sparkled.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 180: Chapter 82: With a dose like that? What is this—wellness therapy?
Summary:
"When pain becomes a forge, even poison hammers out warriors."
Chapter Text
Physique +0.02
Physique +0.03
Physique +0.03
Physique +0.02...
“AAAHHHHH!!”
Agonized roars, like the howls of beasts, echoed through the grim prison halls.
Darren and Bullet writhed on the floor, their bodies trembling uncontrollably from the pain.
Their skin glowed red as if engulfed in flames. Heat surged within them like an inferno—every cell, every muscle felt as though it were on fire.
“Muhahaha... Excellent subjects... I increased the mummy virus dose, and they’re still kicking!”
“Incredible… absolutely incredible…”
The fat man, Queen, bit into his cigar, eyes wild with excitement as he stared at the life monitor’s spiking data. His entire body trembled with thrill as he scribbled into his lab notebook:
‘Body temperature has surpassed 55°C…’
‘At 30% dosage, cells appear to be entering rapid division…’
‘Such division suggests intense organ strain—metabolic pressure is rising…’
‘All this proves the potency of the mummy virus beyond doubt…’
‘Although… something odd—the pain response readings are off the charts, but those two… seem to be enjoying themselves?’
‘If they were normal, they’d have passed out long ago…’
‘Could the virus induce hallucinations? Or even addiction?’
He paused, squinting suspiciously at the two men still convulsing on the floor.
‘No… unlikely. But I can’t rule it out yet. It could just be that these two freaks have abnormally strong wills.’
...
Two minutes finally passed.
The burning pain subsided, and both men collapsed like heaps of broken flesh—panting, skin still steaming.
“Muhahaha... So? Now you get it?”
Queen swaggered over, towering above them, his massive gut sticking out proudly. He sneered grotesquely.
“There’s still time to beg. Swear loyalty to Boss Kaido, and all this ends.”
“If not… I’ll use an even higher dosage of the virus. The pain you’ve felt so far? That was just the beginning.”
“So, what’ll it be—will you join the Beasts Pi—”
“—I refuse!” x2
Darren and Bullet shouted in perfect unison, exchanging the faintest of glances.
Queen: ???
He stared at the two broken wrecks before him, utterly baffled.
Were they insane?
He could’ve sworn their eyes lit up when he mentioned increasing the dosage…
No way…
A terrible suspicion crept into Queen’s mind.
These two… are they masochists!?
A shiver ran down his spine. He instinctively took two steps back, putting distance between himself and the maniacs.
Still gasping for breath, Darren suddenly broke into a defiant, sneering grin.
“You fat bastard… You really think I’d submit to trash science like yours?”
He began thrashing violently, banging the seastone shackles against the floor.
“This… this is your grand research project? The mummy virus?”
Blood streamed from Darren’s eyes, nostrils, ears, and lips, yet he still managed a disdainful laugh.
“With a dose like that? What is this—wellness therapy?”
Queen blinked, struggling to process the words. Beside him, Bullet looked at Darren like he’d lost his mind.
Darren gave him a subtle wink.
Bullet paused. Then—something clicked.
His expression suddenly shifted.
“That’s your best shot, fatass!?”
He burst into manic laughter.
“That pain? Barely even a tickle! Kahahahaha!!”
And then—
“You suicidal freaks!! You dare mock my research!!”
Queen’s eyes turned bloodshot with rage.
“You brought this on yourselves!! You want pain!? I’ll give you pain!!”
Furious, he snatched a vial from his kit. The liquid inside shimmered an eerie blue.
“Now witness... the crowning masterpiece of Queen the Plague’s unparalleled genius!!”
His mechanical arm whirred and shifted. A large needle slid out with a hiss.
The needle pierced the vial’s cap, drawing up the glowing blue substance.
“It’s not at full potential yet—but for you two, it’s more than enough!”
“Try this!”
Queen sneered as he coated the needle with Armament Haki and jabbed it into Darren’s and Bullet’s arms.
The moment the virus entered their veins, a wholly different sensation slammed into them—like a tidal wave of death.
Their minds went blank.
A searing cold.
Bone-deep frost surged through their blood, their cells, their muscles. It felt as if hell itself had frozen over.
Their skin turned blue before their eyes, as if coated in rime. Their joints stiffened, their movements slowed. They became like ice-covered demons.
The cold engulfed them—then came the pain.
Nerve-shredding agony. Will-breaking torment.
From the darkest depths of their minds surged a primal, uncontrollable bloodlust—violent and irrational.
BAM!
A fist slammed into Darren’s cheek, swelling his face instantly.
His eyes snapped open. Before him stood Bullet—transformed, eyes crimson, face contorted in a savage snarl. He stomped forward like a frost-covered beast, driven mad.
“Muhahaha... That’s the Ice Oni Virus! Tear each other apart, boys!”
“Enjoy it—my masterpiece, born of true scientific brilliance!!”
Queen cackled as he turned and slammed the prison door shut, striding away.
As his fat figure disappeared down the corridor, Darren’s own vision began to blur—his mind consumed by pure, violent instinct. His eyes burned red.
And then—
BOOM!
The two figures exploded into motion like cannonballs, colliding in the cell with explosive force—locked in a brutal, frenzied brawl.
Physique +0.07
Physique +0.09
Physique +0.10
Physique +0.13
---
To be continued…
Chapter 181: Chapter 83: Win Over People’s Hearts
Summary:
"True power lies not in wealth or weapons, but in those ready to sacrifice for you."
Chapter Text
The North Blue.
Rubeck Island — the base of operations for the Donquixote Family.
“Doffy!!”
A sticky, wobbling figure stumbled into the lavishly decorated hall, voice shaking.
“Don’t barge in like that all the time, Trebol!”
Lounging on a soft leather sofa, Doflamingo puffed lazily on a cigar, legs crossed atop an expensive marble table, voice heavy with annoyance.
It had been over a month since Darren left the North Blue. The Donquixote Family had by now seized complete control over the underworld of the region, with their trade convoys and influence stretching even into the Grand Line.
Doflamingo himself had grown taller over that month.
The childish softness of youth was now gone—replaced by the fierce arrogance of a young lion.
His presence was sharper, darker. The shadow of a future emperor of the underworld had begun to take shape.
“I-I’m saying—big news!!”
Trebol gasped for air, leaning on his cane, twin streams of snot dangling beneath his nose.
“Word from the New World—Marine Commodore Rogers Darren was captured by Kaido of the Beasts during a mission. His status is currently unknown!”
The moment those words fell, Doflamingo’s pupils contracted behind his sunglasses.
All around him, the Donquixote officers either seated or standing, jolted to their feet.
“That monster actually got caught!?”
“Then again… it’s Kaido we’re talking about…”
“Serves him right, honestly…”
“So if he’s dead… doesn’t that mean we’re finally free of him?”
“Doffy, this is great news!”
The cadre, including Diamante, looked at one another with disbelief and then unrestrained joy.
Though the Donquixote Family seemed unstoppable now, their growth in recent months had only made one thing clearer: no matter how much power they gained, the name "King of the North Blue" still loomed over them like a colossal shadow.
Doflamingo raised a hand, silencing the room. His expression turned cold as he stared at Trebol.
“How reliable is this intel, Trebol?”
Trebol, still catching his breath, nodded solemnly.
“It’s solid. Came from the Shipping King, Umit. You know—we’ve been funneling nearly half our smuggled arms through his routes. So we’re on good terms.”
A heavy silence fell.
The officers glanced at their young master, noting the darkness growing in his expression. None dared to speak.
They all knew just how… complicated the relationship between Doflamingo and that man truly was.
“Is he… still alive?”
After a moment, Doflamingo asked flatly.
Trebol shook his head.
“Unclear for now. The agents we’ve placed under Umit’s network say Kaido and Umit have formed a deal—he handles a large portion of the Beasts Pirates’ weapons trafficking and some of their supplies.”
“But every meeting is arranged on a neutral third-party island. No one knows where the Beasts Pirates’ main base actually is.”
Diamante hesitated, then spoke cautiously:
“Doffy… you’re not seriously thinking of… rescuing him, are you?”
He gritted his teeth.
“Having him around doesn’t benefit the Donquixote Family anymore. We’re strong enough now—we don’t need his protection!”
“If he dies, the Marines in the North Blue won’t be a threat to us anymore!”
“We could move in on the trades we’ve always been blocked from—slave auctions, human trafficking, narcotics…”
“—Shut up.”
Doflamingo’s voice suddenly cracked like a whip, cutting Diamante off mid-sentence.
Diamante froze.
Doflamingo slowly stood, step by step approaching him, expression like ice.
“D-Doffy…”
Diamante felt a chill crawl up his spine from the weight of Doflamingo’s aura.
“I’ve said this many times, Diamante…”
Doflamingo stood in front of him, the pink feathers of his coat swaying lightly. His brow cast in shadow, face devoid of warmth.
“We don’t stay away from that business because Darren told us to.”
“We stay away because that business… is outdated.”
His mind flashed to the words Darren spoke to him before leaving the North Blue.
“You know why I despise those so-called emperors of the underworld in the New World?”
Diamante rasped,
“N-no…”
A mocking smile curved Doflamingo’s lips.
“Because they’re sewer rats. Vultures feeding on rot and bones.”
“Human trafficking. Organ harvesting. Caravan raids. Assassinations. Slave trading. Drug routes…”
“Only rats still cling to that trash. They think they’re clever—skimming off the power struggles of giants.”
“But when the true tides of change come, they won’t even make a ripple.”
He patted Diamante’s shoulder.
“I know you’re thinking about the family. About expanding, earning more.”
“That makes me proud. But…”
Doflamingo exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“Money—just enough is enough. No need to chase filth.”
“True wealth isn’t gold or palaces. It’s loyalty.”
“And now… it’s time we win over hearts.”
“Senor.”
He called calmly.
“Yes, Young Master.”
A deep voice responded from nowhere.
Ripples spread across the wall of the great hall—liquid-like distortions in the air.
A man emerged as if swimming through the surface—slicked-back hair, expensive black pinstripe suit, sunglasses on his face.
“You’re a new face,” Doflamingo said. “But your ability suits this mission well.”
“Yes,” the man named Senor bowed slightly.
“But you might die,” Doflamingo added.
“I don’t mind,” Senor smiled. “The Donquixote Family is everything to me.”
Doflamingo paused for a moment. Then stepped forward, took out a pack of cigarettes, placed one between Senor’s lips.
Click.
He lit it.
“Go.”
“From today on… you are one of the Donquixote Family’s core officers.”
Senor took a drag, exhaled, and smiled.
“Thank you, Young Master.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 182: Chapter 84: It’s a Matter of Principle
Summary:
"When power is uncertain, intent becomes everything."
Chapter Text
Doflamingo exhaled slowly as he watched Senor’s figure dissolve into the wall.
Senor was a newer member of the family—steady, precise, and far from your typical brutish mafioso. If anything, his calm demeanor resembled that of a gentleman.
Doflamingo had noticed him early on.
His Sui Sui no Mi (Swim-Swim Fruit) —allowed him to merge with and move freely through any surface as if it were water. Walls, floors… no barrier could stop him.
It made him an exceptional infiltrator. Assassin. Spy.
So while Senor wasn’t yet a core officer of the Donquixote Family, Doflamingo had quietly begun assigning him critical missions—to test and hone his capabilities.
Senor hadn’t let him down.
“…Doffy, are you really sending Senor to rescue… that guy?”
Trebol finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.
Doflamingo lit another cigar, took a heavy drag, then slowly looked around at his gathered officers.
“So… in your minds, Darren dying benefits us. Is that it?”
Diamante clenched his teeth.
“You’re our Young Master. Of course, we obey your commands—and trust your judgment.”
“But… but…”
His fists trembled.
“If he dies, you become the King of the North Blue, don’t you?”
Doflamingo exhaled a long plume of smoke.
He could see it clearly in their eyes—that primal fear of Darren still lingered deep within them.
“Maybe you’re not wrong. But I don’t think someone like Darren would die so easily.”
“You’ve seen the intelligence from Marineford.”
“The name Rogers Darren doesn’t just represent the North Blue anymore.”
Behind his sunglasses, Doflamingo’s eyes glinted with layered thoughts.
“A monster of a man. Top of the Elite Officer Training Camp. A genius Marine who fought Byrnndi World and even Gol D. Roger head-on…”
“There’s no way the Marines would abandon someone like that.”
“If I’m not mistaken, the Headquarters has already deployed a rescue force to the New World.”
He sighed.
“So whether we send someone or not… it might not change the outcome.”
That was when Trebol and the others finally grasped the heart of the matter.
“Then why send Senor at all?” Trebol frowned.
Doflamingo gave a bitter, mocking smile.
“It’s about attitude.”
“Whether or not Senor actually helps doesn’t matter.”
“What matters is that we showed our intent.”
“Think about it… If Darren survives and finds out we stood by and did nothing… knowing his personality, how do you think he’ll respond?”
Shivers ran down the spines of every officer present.
The methods of that man…
They didn’t dare imagine it.
“And besides…”
Doflamingo’s lips curled into a grin.
“He should be arriving any moment now.”
Trebol and the others froze.
Arriving? Who?
BANG!
The front doors to the estate slammed open. A gust of gunpowder-laced wind roared through the hall.
Before anyone could react, over a hundred fully armed Marines stormed inside—surrounding them instantly.
“Marines!!”
“What’s going on!?”
“This is the Donquixote Family’s territory!!”
The officers began to move—
But shff! Dozens of gun barrels snapped up in unison, pointed directly at them.
Their faces twisted with anger, but none dared move.
These weren’t ordinary Marines—they were elite. Armed with shock guns, flamethrowers, alloy-compression nets, high-explosive lances… and more.
The hall fell into dead silence. The pressure was suffocating.
“…Lord Doflamingo… the North Blue fleet has deployed five warships… They’ve locked down all of Rubeck Island.”
A panicked scout rushed in, voice trembling.
Doflamingo sneered coldly.
“Fuffuffuffuffu… What an entrance. You sure don’t show me much courtesy, Captain Momonga.”
He looked up as a lone figure stepped through the Marine ranks.
The soldiers split into a neat corridor as their commander emerged.
Cloak draped over his shoulders, Captain Momonga—the Supreme Commander of the North Blue—walked into the hall with a frosty gaze.
“In the North Blue, who wouldn’t give Donquixote Doflamingo his due?”
He waved a hand.
“Lower your weapons. The Donquixote Family is a crucial stabilizing force in this region. One of our most… valued guests.”
The Marines immediately holstered their weapons and stepped back without a word.
Without sparing a glance at Trebol or the others, Momonga fixed his eyes on Doflamingo and said coldly:
“You know why I’m here.”
“I apologize for this unannounced visit. But I don’t have time for pleasantries.”
Behind the calm words was a hint of urgency… and deeply buried killing intent.
Doflamingo studied him for a moment—then grinned.
“Fuffuffuffuffu… I see. So that’s what this is about.”
“Relax. I’ve already sent someone. You’ll hear news soon.”
“Believe it or not, I might be more anxious than you are…”
“After all, he is my godfather… Fuffuffuffu…”
Momonga nodded, ignoring the biting mockery hidden in the laugh.
“Good. I’ll await your report.”
With that, he turned and led the troops out.
When they reached the port, Momonga halted, looking up at the line of massive warships patrolling the waters.
Each one was armed with a row of gleaming silver cannon barrels.
“Captain Momonga, how should we proceed?” a lieutenant commander asked, eyes tense.
Momonga turned, eyes fixed on the skull banner fluttering above the Donquixote estate.
“No. Keep watching Doflamingo.”
“Wait for word. If Darren really is dead—then regardless of whether Doflamingo acted or not…”
He clenched his jaw, Darren’s parting words still ringing in his mind. A glint of resolve flashed in his eyes.
“…We move. And annihilate every last member of the Donquixote Family.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 183: Chapter 85: All Sides in Motion
Summary:
“The sharpest blades in power are wielded in silence—strategy cuts deeper than war.”
Chapter Text
"Doffy... Momonga hasn't withdrawn the North Blue Fleet. What should we do?"
In the Donquixote Family's estate hall, Trebol lowered the Den Den Mushi he had just used, his expression tense with anxiety.
The other officers, too, looked nervously toward their Young Master.
Rubeck Island was under complete lockdown. The pressure of five Marine warships surrounding them was suffocating, and even they felt the weight of that threat.
No one knew the power of the North Blue Fleet better than the Donquixote Family. Darren had poured an enormous fortune into building it, outfitting it with the most advanced technology in the world, modified by Germa 66, and staffed with only elite soldiers.
It was a force forged from a staggering military budget—disciplined, powerful, and utterly precise.
Meanwhile, the Donquixote Family’s combat force on Rubeck Island was minimal. Most of their manpower was stationed at other strongholds throughout the North Blue, leaving them vastly outmatched.
"I didn’t expect Momonga to move so quickly," Diamante muttered. "We underestimated him. Treated him like just another one of Darren’s officers."
Vergo, a chunk of steak still stuck to his cheek, frowned.
"From what our intel says, the North Blue Fleet recently acquired some new tech weapon—one with terrifying destructive power."
Trebol gripped his cane tightly.
"Doffy, are they going to war with us?"
The officers watched Doflamingo, who sat calmly on the leather sofa, silently smoking his cigar.
He crossed his legs, a cold smirk creeping across his lips.
"Relax. As long as Darren’s alive, Momonga won’t make a move."
"Just do what we need to do."
With that, Doflamingo stood and walked into his study.
He approached the massive window, opened it, and let the cool sea breeze rush against his face, making the feathers of his pink coat flutter.
He understood Momonga's intent.
If Darren was dead, Momonga knew he wouldn’t be able to hold him back. All of the North Blue would fall into his hands.
Smart. Decisive. Unflinching.
No wonder that man trusted him the most.
Just for that sharp instinct and judgment, Momonga deserved to be Supreme Commander of the North Blue.
Doflamingo gazed out at the monstrous silhouettes of Marine warships lining the horizon, their white gull flags flapping wildly in the wind.
A vicious grin spread across his face.
"Don’t you dare die on me so easily... my dear Godfather."
His eyes gleamed with a mad, burning ambition behind his sunglasses. Thick veins twisted up across his forehead like writhing worms.
"Because the one who’s going to kill you... will be me!"
CRACK!
His hands slammed down, shattering the wooden window ledge into splinters.
---
The New World.
Clear blue sky. Lazy drifting clouds.
Two Marine battleships sliced swiftly across the calm sea, dragging long white wakes behind them.
At the prow of one stood a broad, commanding figure, gazing at the distant waters with furrowed brows.
It was Sengoku, dispatched from Marineford on a rescue mission.
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion tore into the sky from a distant island. Fire and black smoke surged upward.
Distant screams of pirates reached the sea before being drowned by the waves.
Two seconds later, a beam of golden light streaked from the island.
The light burst apart in midair, scattering into photons that quickly reformed into the silhouette of a tall man.
Borsalino stepped out of the glow, scratching his chin.
"No luck. Just another small outpost. Those grunts didn’t know a thing."
Sengoku’s brows furrowed even deeper.
"Any leads?" came Zephyr’s voice.
In a few flickers of motion, Zephyr appeared at Sengoku’s side.
Sengoku rolled his eyes.
"Zephyr, why aren’t you on your own damn ship? What are you doing here again?"
"Cut the crap. Share what you’ve got already," Zephyr snapped. "Or Garp’s going to beat us there."
Sengoku sighed heavily and shook his head.
"Nothing. Kaido’s more cautious and cunning than we thought. Every pirate base we’ve hit was just part of his Beast Pirates' outer shell."
"We’ve got no clue where his real stronghold is."
Zephyr’s face darkened.
It had been seven days since they left Marineford.
That sounded like a long time—except three of those days were just getting into the New World.
(At this point in the timeline, Vegapunk had yet to develop the technology to embed Seastone in ship hulls, so Marines couldn’t cross the Calm Belt freely.)
To reach the New World from the Paradise half of the Grand Line, Marines had only two options: dive beneath to Fish-Man Island using coating, or apply for World Government clearance to cross the Red Line.
Even after making it through, they’d spent four full days scouring the sea.
They had raided seven or eight outposts, even wiping out a few mid-tier pirate crews.
Still, not a single clue.
Unlike the well-mapped waters of Paradise, the New World was a chaotic maze. Half of it was still cloaked in the fog of war. Navigation was a nightmare.
And the extreme weather made things worse.
The closer they drew to Wano’s domain, the more restrained their actions had to be. No more bold raids—every step needed subtlety.
To avoid provoking the nation of Wano, they had to act with extreme caution.
And that only made their mission harder.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 184: Chapter 86: He Must Be Undergoing Cruel Torture
Summary:
"Endurance refines the body, but torment reveals the will. In the shadows of agony, only monsters smile."
Chapter Text
“Is there really no other way, Sengoku?”
Gazing out over the vast, boundless ocean before him, Zephyr’s eyes shimmered with a trace of deep concern. His expression was grave as he said:
“You're the Resourceful General, aren’t you? There must be something we can do.”
With no leads whatsoever, trying to find a single person in this vast, unending sea of the New World—where the climate shifted wildly and unpredictably—was even harder than reaching the heavens.
That was precisely why so many pirate crews risked total annihilation just to coat their ships and dive ten thousand meters into the deep sea, passing beneath the Red Line to enter the New World.
The routes were uncharted, and countless islands had yet to be fully explored. Without a fixed territory, even the World Government and Marine Headquarters—with all their vast intelligence networks—would find it nearly impossible to track someone in this chaotic region.
“Oh? I thought I was a simpleton now?” Sengoku squinted, lips curling with disdain.
Zephyr’s mouth twitched; his smile froze awkwardly.
Tch, how petty.
Sengoku shook his head.
“Honestly, this search shouldn’t have been so difficult.”
“Under normal circumstances, all cadets in the Elite Officer Training Camp are treated as high-priority assets by the Marines. To ensure their safe development, every student is supposed to register with Headquarters and leave behind a Vivre Card.”
“If we had his Vivre Card, even in the New World, we could’ve located Darren with relative ease.”
“But leaving behind a Vivre Card isn’t mandatory. And… tell me, how many of your students do you think would’ve actually left one at HQ?”
By the time he said this last sentence, Sengoku’s voice was heavy with helplessness. He cast a sidelong glance at Borsalino.
The latter, looking utterly absent-minded, didn’t seem to notice Sengoku’s look at all.
Zephyr, hearing this, also let out a long sigh, massaging his temples in frustration.
The other cadets were manageable. Most officers still abided by military discipline and followed regulations faithfully.
But could anyone seriously expect the likes of Sakazuki, Borsalino, or Dragon—these rebellious types—to willingly leave behind something that exposed their whereabouts?
Monstrous talents like them naturally held “privileges” others didn’t possess.
As long as it wasn’t something that caused severe consequences or threatened their loyalty to the Marines, Marine Headquarters usually turned a blind eye to such things.
“So we really have no choice but to search island by island? How long will that take?”
Zephyr clenched his teeth, fists tightening.
Sengoku’s brow furrowed deeply. Hands clasped behind his back, he began pacing the deck.
Even he couldn’t come up with a good plan in the face of such a dilemma.
“…Perhaps, we could try using the Underworld’s channels?”
Just then, Borsalino—still looking half-lost in thought—spoke slowly and lazily.
Both Sengoku and Zephyr were startled. Their eyes simultaneously shifted to him.
“Borsalino, what do you mean?”
Borsalino smiled.
“It’s just a hunch… But if the Beast Pirates’ main force is holed up in Kaido’s base, then with such massive numbers, there’s no way they can rely entirely on self-sustenance for supplies.”
“Besides, Kaido has been waging wars across the New World these past years. Many of the weapons used in those wars were smuggled out by him. Which means—he must have dealings with certain black-market trafficking forces.”
“If we can trace that connection… maybe we’ll find something useful.”
At that, Sengoku and Zephyr’s eyes widened in unison.
“This…”
“Borsalino…”
Suddenly, Zephyr clapped a hand heavily on Borsalino’s shoulder, speaking with excitement:
“You really are a genius!!”
Turning his head, he gave Sengoku a mocking look.
“Sengoku, look at him! You’re always complaining about Borsalino—yet you couldn’t come up with something half as decent!”
Sengoku’s lips twitched.
Tactics on the battlefield, war strategy, commanding troops in real combat… those were the strengths that earned him the title of “Resourceful General.”
This wasn’t the time to bicker with that bastard Zephyr.
Now that they had a lead, Sengoku swiftly pulled out a nautical chart. Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes gleamed with light as he scanned it rapidly.
Soon, he locked onto an island on the map.
“This place… it’s the nearest transit island along our current route. A place like that has to be crawling with underground criminal enterprises.”
Sengoku’s voice was low and firm.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go—now!” Zephyr said impatiently.
Just thinking of how Darren might right now be enduring unspeakable torment at the hands of the Beast Pirates made his heart clench.
Every hour they delayed was another hour of agony, another step closer to death for Darren!
—
Physique +0.06
Physique +0.05
Physique +0.04
Physique +0.03…
In the dark prison, while enduring the torment of the Mummy Virus, Darren’s bloodshot eyes clearly perceived how his physical stats were rapidly climbing.
His entire body trembled as he let out a hoarse, guttural roar. His flushed skin bulged with veins, crawling like centipedes beneath the surface.
He bit back laughter, forcing himself not to give in.
Not far away, Bullet was also enveloped in white steam, his body radiating heat as if he were on fire.
“Muhahaha… feel that? This is the 70% dosage of the Mummy Virus! The pain you’re experiencing now is twice as bad as it was seven days ago!”
Wearing suspenders and a vile grin, the fat man Queen looked down at the two figures lying on the floor like dead dogs. He puffed out his belly in pride and even began dancing gleefully.
After these past days of experimentation, he had gathered the perfect data.
Queen was absolutely convinced that with these results, he could further refine the viruses he’d developed—enhancing their toxicity and infectiousness—turning them into even more devastating weapons against the human body!
As for these two…
Hmph. Judging by their lifeless expressions and the fragile, weakened aura around them, they probably wouldn’t last much longer, would they?
“You two better give it some real thought…”
Queen arrogantly lit a cigar and took a long, satisfied drag.
“If you agree to join the Beast Pirates, you won’t have to suffer like this anymore.”
Darren, panting heavily, let out a twisted grin.
“Is that so? To me, this so-called punishment just feels like a tickle.”
Bullet added, unyielding:
“Let us out—if you dare.”
Queen shrugged, scoffing.
“Tch. Still mouthing off, huh?”
Tok, tok, tok…
Just then, the iron door of the prison was knocked.
A horn-helmeted head poked through.
“Boss Queen, the transport ship’s back. It brought a bunch of the lab equipment you needed."
---
To be continued…
Chapter 185: Chapter 87: A Surge in Power
Summary:
"Not every prison weakens the will. Some forges it. Pain may bind the body—but power breaks the chain."
Chapter Text
“Oh? So it’s finally here? Muhahaha… I’ve been waiting so long for those testing materials and reagents…”
Upon hearing the underling’s report, the fat on Queen’s face visibly jiggled, and his beady little eyes burst forth with a gleam of excitement.
The Beast Pirates’ main base was hidden away on an uncharted, desolate island.
This forsaken land was rich in mineral resources, and with those, Boss Kaido had built several enormous weapon factories here. Combined with his command of military technology, he had laid down a massive arms manufacturing network.
Surrounded by unique sea currents, the island was utterly unreachable to the outside world without the proper markers or navigational cues.
This treacherous natural barrier was the strongest shield protecting the Beast Pirates’ headquarters—but it also brought many inconveniences.
There were no forests here. No grasslands. And frankly, even if there had been, none of them—pirates as they were—would waste their time farming or raising livestock.
Pirates were born to plunder.
If they had the patience to till soil or hunt game, they wouldn’t be pirates in the first place.
Thus, the Beast Pirates’ entire supply of daily necessities depended on underground world cooperation—procured through various black-market channels, routed through multiple transfers, and only then cautiously delivered to the island.
For Queen, whose obsession was scientific research, this logistical nightmare had long been a source of misery.
Never mind the enormous funding needed for research—just acquiring raw materials and experimental equipment was a massive hurdle, only possible through dealings with the Underworld.
And transport capacity was extremely limited. The bulk of the load space had to be reserved for survival supplies, so this latest batch of lab equipment had taken Queen a very long time to secure.
Thinking of this, Queen turned and grinned maliciously at Darren and Bullet.
“You hear that? The new equipment’s here! Once I develop an even stronger virus, you two will be begging on your knees, weeping in pain, pleading for mercy from the great Lord Queen!”
Muhahaha!
Before either of them could respond, Queen bounced away from the prison with a swagger that disowned family and friends, belly jiggling as he skipped out with glee.
Bang!
The thick metal door slammed shut. Darkness returned to the cell, and silence reigned once more—broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three…
Suddenly, the harsh, gasping breaths grew calm.
Like dying dogs, Darren and Bullet slowly sat up from the bloodstained, pitch-black floor and leaned against the wall.
Their eyes met. As if the grotesque agony just moments ago had never happened.
“Hard to believe I, Douglas Bullet, have fallen this far,” Bullet muttered.
He wiped the sweat—tinged with blood—from his face, tied up his tousled golden hair with casual indifference, and curled his lip in self-mockery.
Darren chuckled, tone playful:
“Weren’t you enjoying it?”
Bullet scoffed, offering no rebuttal.
A strange glint flickered in his fierce eyes.
He hadn’t expected it either—that fat man in suspenders had managed to create a virus so powerful… with such side effects.
If one could survive the initial phase of agony, once the virus took root in the body, it would trigger an immune and organ-level response—stimulating cell division and reconfiguration, boosting both internal systems and overall physicality.
Of course, Bullet, being a man of brute strength and not science, didn’t understand words like “immune response” or “systemic reaction.” All he knew was this: after each virus injection, if he pulled through, his body got stronger.
When he first realized this, Bullet could hardly believe it.
That such an absurd, almost lazy way of growing stronger could exist in this world?
In his experience, every step of progress was built on brutal training and battles between life and death.
Now? A simple injection. Endure a bit of pain. And boom—power rising like a tide?
It made no sense.
Absolutely irrational.
Sensing the turmoil in Bullet’s gaze, Darren couldn’t help but smile inwardly, though a faint solemnity rose within him.
Queen’s viruses—whether the Mummy or the Ice Oni—were undeniably formidable.
As infectious weapons of mass destruction, if deployed on a battlefield or in densely populated cities, they could annihilate millions effortlessly.
In truth, had Queen used a dosage over 50% from the beginning, Darren and Bullet likely wouldn’t have survived.
But he hadn’t.
Because of three reasons—“torment,” “data collection,” and “recruitment”—Queen started with low doses.
And in the process, their bodies had gradually developed antibodies.
As they fought off the virus, their physiques grew stronger in secret, little by little.
At this thought, Darren instinctively activated his innate ability to sense his body’s current status.
Physique: 77.112
Strength: 69.339
Speed: 69.591
Devil Fruit: 77.197
Armament Haki: 31.119
Conqueror’s Haki: 50.017
Compared to when Kaido first captured him, his Physique had surged dramatically—up by a full 7 points!
And that explosive growth in base resilience had brought with it a chain reaction, causing Strength, Speed, and Armament Haki to all rise by roughly 1 point each.
If he hadn’t experienced it himself, Darren never would’ve believed such changes could happen in just a few days.
Over 10 points gained in combat attributes!
That kind of leap wasn’t minor—it redefined his entire power level.
In the Marines’ training camps, it would’ve taken three to six months of intense practice to reach this kind of increase.
Unfortunately, due to high-purity seastone restraints, all progress with his Devil Fruit powers was completely halted.
“…Though, it seems that fat man’s virus is having less and less effect on us,” Bullet noted, stretching his neck and wrists. The heavy seastone shackles clinked with a harsh clatter.
Darren nodded.
“Repeated infection with the same virus will lead the body to produce sufficient antibodies. The virus loses its bite over time.”
At this rate, even if they were given a full 100% dose, it likely wouldn’t do much damage anymore.
His data alone told the story.
Back when doses of 70% gave him gains of +0.09 or even +0.12, now the same strength could only trigger +0.03 or +0.04. The threat was fading.
Bullet gave a half-understanding nod, then frowned.
“But why hasn’t that fat bastard noticed our physical improvements? He should have Observation Haki.”
“That’s because…”
Darren grinned strangely and lifted his shackled wrists.
“Because of this.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 186: Chapter 88: Infiltration… Complete
Summary:
“True power does not roar—it waits, shackled in silence, until the world forgets to fear it.”
Chapter Text
“This?”
A flicker of confusion crossed Bullet’s face.
He glanced at the black Seastone cuffs clasped around the wrists of the black-haired Marine, frowning.
“Seastone cuffs?”
“That’s right,” Darren replied, lowering his head to gaze at the pitch-black cuffs—emanating a vast, ocean-like coldness—and the corners of his mouth slowly curled into a wry smile.
“Seastone is essentially the ocean in solid form. It emits the same energy as the sea itself and possesses extremely high hardness, which allows it to suppress Devil Fruit abilities.”
“When a Devil Fruit user comes into contact with Seastone, not only are their powers nullified, but their stamina and overall physical state are greatly weakened, plunging them into a state of exhaustion.”
“Queen may possess Observation Haki, but Observation perceives aura…”
“And thanks to the Seastone, our auras have been suppressed to their lowest point. Naturally, Queen wouldn’t be able to detect the increase in our physical strength.”
As he said this, a strange look surfaced on Darren’s face.
“If that fat pig Queen ever found out that under his ‘torture,’ not only did we not weaken, but we’ve actually grown stronger—quietly and steadily…”
“And that the one thing that could have allowed him to sense it—he himself removed by putting us in high-purity Seastone cuffs…”
“He’d probably blow up on the spot from sheer rage.”
Hearing this, Bullet’s eyelid twitched. He opened his mouth—then shut it again without saying a word.
…Was this really possible?
“…No wonder he’s considered a genius scientist,” he finally muttered after a long pause.
Darren chuckled softly and slowly stood, dragging the heavy Seastone cuffs as they rang out in sharp clinks.
He stretched, rolling his neck with a satisfying crackle—his movements fluid and steady. None of the weakness or stiffness from seven days ago remained.
“How’s your body holding up against the Seastone?”
Bullet grinned viciously.
“It still feels unnatural… That drained sensation hasn’t fully gone away. But it’s no longer affecting my movement.”
As he spoke, he too stood up. A fierce glint of battle spirit flared in his eyes as he looked at Darren.
Despite losing an arm, he showed no sign of defeat. On the contrary, his aura had grown more savage and unrestrained.
And after spending several days together as “cellmates,” Bullet had gradually realized that this so-called “Disgrace”, this Marine, actually shared a surprising number of similarities with him—in personality, habits, and above all, in their ruthless obsession with strength.
The unyielding will that endured despair, the terrifying tolerance for pain, the madness lurking in his bones…
Kaido had been right. Compared to the rules-bound Marines, Darren was more like a true pirate—wild and unchained.
Most important of all, this Marine’s insanity during training and brutality in combat was the closest thing Bullet had ever seen to someone who could match—perhaps even surpass—himself.
Unconsciously, Bullet had begun to acknowledge Darren as a worthy rival.
Seeing his reaction, Darren smiled in satisfaction.
“Good.”
Seastone may block Devil Fruit powers and restrict movement—but people weren’t all the same.
Depending on one’s physical condition, the weakening effects of Seastone could vary greatly.
Some collapsed instantly at the slightest touch. Others could still move like normal despite wearing cuffs.
That was the meaning of Seastone resistance training.
Darren and Bullet had already trained their bodies to superhuman levels—monstrous even.
And thanks to the “injection therapy” of the past few days, their physiques had only grown stronger.
Even under the suppression of high-purity Seastone, they were slowly regaining some combat power.
Though nowhere near full strength—perhaps only ten percent—it was still better than lying on the floor like a dead dog, waiting to be butchered.
“What about… Armament Haki?”
Bullet slowly raised his hand and shouted coldly:
“Armament!”
A visible patch of dark Haki surged over his palm—but vanished within a second.
He let out a muffled grunt. His body swayed, lips pale and cracked.
Seeing this, Darren shook his head.
“The Seastone suppresses our stamina. And Haki—any Haki—requires a massive amount of stamina to activate.”
“Damn it,” Bullet cursed under his breath, biting his teeth.
A flicker passed through Darren’s eyes.
His own condition wasn’t much better. Though his physique had clearly improved, just using Armament Haki to break free of the cuffs still seemed a long way off.
On this sea, the only Devil Fruit user who could do something like that… was probably Kaido.
Kaido had been captured by the Marines multiple times. Thanks to his indestructible body, he had endured forty executions.
Neither blade, axe, lightning, fire, poison, nor alcohol could harm him. Execution tools broke on his skin. Shackles snapped apart.
The world called him an immortal monster.
In truth, perhaps Kaido’s “invincible body” had been forged by the World Government’s experiments—cruel trials carried out by Vegapunk after Kaido was captured.
Thinking of this, Darren clenched his fists.
He looked down at his scarred and scabbed knuckles, a single thought rising unbidden:
How far am I… from Kaido’s indestructible body?
“Hey, quit spacing out. Let’s begin.”
Suddenly, Bullet’s eager voice cut into his thoughts.
“Three days left until our last chance. We don’t have much time.”
His eyes—filled with battle lust—locked fiercely onto the black-haired Marine. A crimson madness began to color his pupils.
Darren grinned and cast all distracting thoughts aside.
“Come.”
The moment the word left his mouth—
The two of them, like beasts unleashed, dragged their Seastone cuffs and slammed into each other!
—
Meanwhile.
At the edge of the Beasts Pirates' headquarters island, on the coastline…
“Be careful with my lab equipment, you bastards! Break one thing and I’ll cut you all down!!”
Queen, riding in a beast-drawn war wagon, leapt off like a rolling ball, cigar clenched in his teeth as he shouted orders.
A pitch-black pirate ship—bearing the Beasts Pirates’ skull flag—was docked at a crude port. Rough men in beast pelts and horned helmets were carefully unloading heavy crates from the deck.
“What’s in this one? Meat? Send it to my place.”
“This one? Slaves? Male or female? Males go to the factory as labor. Females… leave me a few.”
“Those are the experimental supplies? To the lab, all of it!”
…
Queen, hands behind his back and cigar in mouth, strutted around the unloading site, pointing and barking orders.
In less than half an hour, every crate had been offloaded from the pirate ship.
Queen climbed into his wagon, satisfied, and sped off toward his lab—leaving a trail of dust across the brown earth.
The Beasts Pirates, weary from days at sea and constantly on edge, finally relaxed and headed off to rest, leaving only a few lackeys behind to guard the port.
But no one noticed—
At the stern of the pirate ship…
Ripples began to spread across the wooden wall of the storage hold—like waves in still water.
And from within that ripple emerged a young man with slicked-back hair, dressed in an elegant, high-end suit.
His expression was cold as he “floated” out of the wall like a phantom of water.
“Infiltration… complete.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 187: Chapter 89: A Message Delivered
Summary:
“A whisper in the right place can cut deeper than a blade. In silence, the boldest messages are delivered.”
Chapter Text
Half of Senor’s body was submerged into the side of the ship’s hull. He raised a white handkerchief and gently dabbed the cold sweat from his brow, eyes carefully scanning the surroundings.
The stern of the ship faced the open sea, a horizon that stretched endlessly into the distance. Howling waves crashed against the rocky shore, bursting into white frothy spray.
A few grey-and-white seabirds skimmed across the sea. The sunset had stained both sky and ocean the color of blood.
“I didn’t expect the Beasts Pirates to build their main base in a place like this…”
Turning to glance at the island’s side, Senor saw an endless expanse of reddish-brown earth stretching from the shore to the horizon. Far in the distance, towering black chimneys belched thick, dark smoke into the sky.
From the direction of the port came bursts of raucous laughter, mingled with the scent of roasted meat and strong liquor wafting on the wind.
The outer members of the Beasts Pirates, tasked with guarding the ship, had already lit a bonfire.
Senor exhaled slowly, looking pale and weary.
He really wanted a smoke.
Three days and three nights.
He hadn’t shut his eyes for three whole days.
After departing Rubeck Island in the North Blue, he used the Donquixote Family’s connections to infiltrate the New World through the shipping fleet of the so-called “Emperor of the Underworld,” Deep-Sea Currents Umit. It had taken four days.
Relying on his Devil Fruit ability, he “merged” himself into the slave hold of the ship Umit used to trade with the Beasts Pirates, never once showing his face.
He chose the slave hold because even if his presence was accidentally detected, anyone using Observation Haki would simply assume he was one of the countless captives.
“I have to be even more careful…”
Senor took a deep breath, forcing his breathing to become slow and shallow.
In the North Blue, he was considered a powerful fighter—but here in the New World, he was far from adequate.
Even an ordinary officer of the Beasts Pirates could likely kill him with ease.
His one and only asset… was his Devil Fruit power.
With that in mind, Senor scanned the area once more.
Now… where would the godfather of the Young Master be held?
He quickly locked onto a direction. His figure, like a droplet merging into the sea, vanished again into the body of the pirate ship.
—
On the docks—
Beneath the pirate ship moored at the port, a dozen pirates in beast pelts were humming lewd songs, feasting on meat and downing alcohol, laughing boisterously.
“Lord Queen’s really scored big this time…”
“Oh? Something as important as supply coordination, and Lord King didn’t handle it personally? Isn’t that usually his job?”
“Well, I heard there’s been some development in Wano. Lord Kaido took Lord King and left the island.”
“No wonder Queen’s so fired up.”
“Who cares? That’s way above our pay grade.”
“Exactly—come on, drink up!”
“Hey, hey… I thought I just felt something weird for a second…”
“Hahahaha!! You’re drunk! Can’t handle it, go sit with the kids!”
“…”
—
Inside the prison.
Bang!!
Two fists clad in Seastone cuffs smashed simultaneously into each other’s faces. Darren and Bullet staggered backward, crashing hard into the stone wall of the prison, sending chips of rock flying.
Their lips immediately swelled. Blood trickled from the corners of both their mouths.
Darren wiped the blood away with a grin, panting.
“Your punches are vicious.”
Bullet, equally breathless, grinned back.
“You’re not bad yourself.”
Their eyes locked. In that instant, a cold gleam sparked between them.
They stepped forward simultaneously.
Thud!
Their right feet struck the ground with force, leaving shallow craters behind. Their fists, thrown with full strength, once again landed square on each other’s faces.
Sweat and blood sprayed through the air.
Like wild beasts in a cage, the two figures launched into a flurry of attacks, unleashing some of the most advanced close-combat techniques this sea had to offer—within the narrow confines of a prison cell.
Darren, raised in the North Blue, had clawed his way up from the bottom ranks of the military. For years, he’d honed his combat techniques in brutal sparring with Sakazuki, and after joining the training camp, further refined his fighting style under Zephyr. His approach was ruthless and intense.
Bullet, who had been defusing landmines on battlefields since the age of eight, had lived a life soaked in blood. He had no set style—only pure killing instinct. His combat was sharp, decisive, and lethal.
Over these past few days of “sparring,” both had learned from each other, refining and expanding their own deadly arsenals.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The thud of fists, the whistling of kicks—they rang like thunder and tore through the air like wind.
Suddenly—
Both Darren and Bullet narrowed their eyes, as if sensing something amiss. Without hesitation, they struck toward the prison wall!
A hammer-like punch. A razor-edged whip kick.
“Wait!!”
From the rippling surface of the wall came a panicked shout.
Boom!!
The wall exploded in a shower of rubble and dust. A human figure, seemingly embedded in the stone, was suddenly revealed.
Darren’s hand clamped around the intruder’s throat like an iron vice, yanking him out of the wall and raising him high in the air.
Smoke and dust billowed around them.
“Someone managed to get through solid rock into this prison… Who are you?”
Bullet narrowed his eyes, a murderous gleam within them, and sneered.
“I… I…”
Senor struggled to speak. The grip on his neck wasn’t all that strong—but the touch of the Seastone cuffs on his skin overwhelmed him with a wave of weakness and fatigue unlike anything he’d ever felt.
As the smoke cleared, Darren finally saw the youth in the suit—and a memory in his mind clicked into place.
“I know who you are.”
He let go.
“Pleased to meet you, Senor.”
Senor, face pale and breathing ragged, eyes widened in shock.
How does he know my name? We’ve never met. I only joined the Donquixote Family two weeks ago!
Unless…
A terrifying thought surged into his brain.
Could there be a spy from Darren within the Donquixote Family!?
A shiver ran down Senor’s spine. He didn’t dare think about it any further.
Looking at the two bloodied men before him—both exuding a demonic pressure despite wearing Seastone cuffs—his heart trembled violently.
They’re shackled… yet still radiate such overwhelming force…
“Darren, who is this guy?”
Bullet sized up Senor with clear hostility in his eyes.
Senor took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
Looking at the black-haired Marine in front of him, he slowly dropped to one knee.
“Lord Darren, I am a member of the Donquixote Family—Senor.”
Bowing his head, he spoke solemnly:
“The Young Master, Lord Doflamingo, has sent me… to deliver his sincerest regards.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 188: Chapter 90: You've Come a Long Way
Summary:
“Loyalty is not proven through power—but in the miles endured, the risks taken, and the silence kept.”
Chapter Text
“Young Master Doflamingo sent me to deliver his sincerest regards.”
Senor knelt on one knee, his voice low and solemn.
Before Darren could respond, Bullet raised an eyebrow.
“Doflamingo? Never heard of him…”
He shot Darren a suspicious look.
“Hey, Darren. Don’t tell me this guy’s with the Beasts Pirates—trying to trick us with some elaborate play…”
His gaze toward Senor grew darker, the air around him filling with murderous intent.
The sheer cold and ferocity of it pricked at Senor’s skin like needles. A chill ran down his spine, and every muscle in his body tightened in reflex.
He had never encountered a war monster like Bullet back in the North Blue.
“Bullet, ease up on the killing intent.”
Darren let out a faint smile.
“Doflamingo is my godson.”
“And besides…”
His smile took on a strange, teasing edge.
“Do you really think that bunch of meatheads in the Beasts Pirates could come up with something this subtle?”
Bullet froze.
Images of the Beasts Pirates members he had encountered flashed through his mind, and an expression of understanding crossed his face.
He gave Senor a warning look, then turned away, walked to the far side of the cell, and sat down against the wall.
As the oppressive feeling of being watched by a wild beast slowly faded, Senor couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
These two men were terrifying.
And that was with Seastone cuffs on.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of monstrous pressure they would give off if those cuffs were removed.
“Get up, Senor.”
Darren reached out and helped him to his feet, gently straightening the man’s disheveled collar.
“I can see you’ve endured much… and traveled far to reach me.”
He patted his shoulder, the smile fading from his face, replaced by sincerity.
“…You’ve come a long way.”
Senor froze.
Staring at the black-haired youth’s serious expression, he suddenly felt dazed.
This man—wounded, imprisoned in the heart of the Beasts Pirates’ stronghold, his life hanging by a thread—had said nothing of suspicion or reproach. The first thing he said, upon learning who Senor was, was a simple, heartfelt “you’ve come a long way.”
In that moment, at least to Senor, every sacrifice he had made on this mission, every risk endured… felt completely worth it.
He clenched his fists to suppress his emotion and shook his head.
“It’s nothing, Lord Darren.”
Darren smiled.
He had a good impression of Senor.
In the original timeline, he was the man who, despite everyone’s ridicule, gave up his beloved expensive suits and wore a ridiculous, childish baby outfit—just to make his comatose wife smile.
That was a man’s kind of romance.
It was brave. It was dignified.
And honestly—
Darren was quite impressed by Senor’s abilities too.
From what he’d gathered over the past few days, this Beasts Pirates base was incredibly dangerous and hard to locate. If it weren’t, the Marines would’ve already found it.
For someone from the North Blue to make it all the way here, Senor must’ve gone through hell.
“Lord Darren, the Young Master instructed me to…”
Senor, cautious and respectful, began to explain—only to be gently cut off by a wave of the hand.
“Doffy was thoughtful… but what I’m more curious about is how you made it here.”
Senor blinked, then answered honestly:
“The Donquixote Family has trade ties with the Underworld emperor, ‘Deep-Sea Currents’ Umit. Our agents embedded in Umit’s shipping fleet informed us that you’d been captured alive by Kaido during a mission…”
“And Umit, as one of the Beasts Pirates’ suppliers, regularly ships materials to them.”
“Using that connection, I infiltrated Umit’s fleet, and during a cargo transfer, I used my Devil Fruit ability to hide in one of the Beasts Pirates’ ships—eventually arriving here.”
“I see…” Darren paused in thought. Then asked: “Do you know exactly where this prison is located?”
Senor shook his head, face serious.
“My apologies, Lord Darren.”
“While onboard, I didn’t dare reveal myself for fear of detection. I couldn’t determine the exact route.”
“All I know is this prison is built beneath a massive mountain. To break out, we’d either have to smash through the entire mountain… or fight through the front gate, which is heavily guarded.”
“This island is surrounded by complex sea currents, and the terrain is extremely convoluted. There are also multiple massive weapons factories here—it must be Kaido’s arms production base.”
“As for the island’s exact location… judging by the ship’s speed, course, and time traveled, I believe we are somewhere near the seas surrounding Wano.”
An excellent operative indeed…
Hearing Senor’s calm, analytical breakdown, Darren couldn’t help but feel admiration.
Even Bullet, usually dismissive of everyone, perked up with interest.
“Hey, you’re called Senor, right? Not bad. I like you.”
“You don’t need that Doflamingo guy. Come follow me instead.”
Senor glanced at him but said nothing.
He had, of course, heard about Douglas Bullet on his journey here.
This maniac—this monster—had once single-handedly wiped out an entire nation.
In fact, Darren’s original mission target had been Bullet himself.
And yet… from what he was seeing now, the relationship between Darren and Bullet seemed oddly friendly?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bullet. I thought you believed in ‘strength through solitude’?”
Darren turned toward him with a half-smile.
Bullet scoffed.
“I don’t need him to fight. I just want him as my assistant.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 189: Chapter 91: That Brat Doffy… He’s Grown
Summary:
“Pride sharpens the will, but growth begins the moment one chooses to bend—just once—for a greater game.”
Chapter Text
“Such a shame. Senor is the loyal subordinate of my godson, Doflamingo. Which means… he’s also my loyal subordinate.”
Darren spoke to Bullet with a half-smile.
“You’ve got no chance.”
Bullet looked at Darren, then at the silent Senor, and scoffed.
“Try saying that again after you actually get out of here alive.”
Darren shrugged and turned his eyes to Senor.
“So then, Senor… Tell me, how exactly does Doflamingo plan to get me out of here?”
Staying in captivity wasn’t necessarily life-threatening—not for now. In fact, he could even continue to enjoy “Professor Queen’s” special training sessions. After all, they’d already seen what happened to Monkey D. Luffy.
But Darren wasn’t one to enjoy being held in the palm of someone else’s hand.
More importantly, as his physique and internal organs grew stronger, his resistance to viruses had increased proportionally.
At this point, even if Queen injected him with a high-dose virus, the “side effects” had grown negligible.
Senor didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he cast a wary glance at Bullet.
Seeing this, Bullet rolled his eyes and snapped irritably:
“What? This cell ain’t exactly spacious. If you’re gonna say it, just say it. If not, then forget it. You think I’m gonna cover my ears!?”
He waved his one remaining arm, making his Seastone cuffs rattle.
“Don’t forget—I’ve only got one arm left. Can’t exactly block both ears!”
Still bitter about that railgun blast that cost him his limb, huh…
Darren looked at the glowering, sharp-tongued Bullet and let out a soundless chuckle.
The savage air of a true battlefield warrior clung to him so strongly, it was easy to forget this guy was still just a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old kid.
(Bellion001: "I totally forgot" (°ロ°) !)
“Go ahead and speak, Senor… At least for now, the one-armed brute and I are allies.”
Darren said with a grin.
Allies?
Senor blinked.
Darren was a Marine, a rising star no less—and yet he’d formed an alliance with Douglas Bullet, the “Nation Slayer”?
But then again, this man was the godfather of the North Blue’s Underworld. It made a strange sort of sense.
After gathering his thoughts, Senor straightened up and spoke with gravity.
“Lord Darren, the Young Master knew I didn’t have the strength to break you out of Kaido’s grasp alone. So he gave me two tasks to complete.”
“Oh?”
Darren raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
In the Dressrosa arc, Doflamingo’s performance wasn’t exactly stellar. Letting the real Flame-Flame Fruit be publicly displayed, failing to finish off Trafalgar Law, pushing Admiral Fujitora to rebellion, and ultimately losing to the Sun God’s wild comeback…
But in truth, Doflamingo’s cunning and vision placed him among the sharpest minds in the pirate world.
From dominating the North Blue, to monopolizing black market resources, manipulating the World Government with Celestial Dragon leverage to secure a Shichibukai title, and usurping the throne of Dressrosa—
These weren’t mere stunts. Yes, his Celestial Dragon lineage helped, but so did his ruthless brilliance.
“Let’s hear it,” Darren said calmly.
Senor took a breath and began.
“First, I was to use my Devil Fruit ability to locate your exact position. If possible, I was to coordinate with you and support an escape from the inside. The Young Master said—his godfather is not the kind of man to wait passively for death.”
Darren chuckled.
That brat sent help because he didn’t want me dying at someone else’s hands.
He wanted to kill me himself.
Darren could see right through Doflamingo’s little game.
That arrogant, prideful child born of “divine blood” would never allow another to stand above him for long.
And it was that pride, that conceit, that stoked his desire to one day strike Darren down with his own hands.
Maybe, if that day ever came—if he truly managed to kill Darren—his Conqueror’s Haki would break through to an entirely new realm.
“And the second task?”
Darren didn’t comment on the first. He simply asked the next.
Senor looked up, locking eyes with him.
“To notify the Marines.”
At that, Bullet frowned.
And a pleased smile spread across Darren’s face.
That brat Doffy… he’s grown.
Had he never met Darren, someone like him—so arrogant—would never have even considered alerting the Marines for help.
“Before I left the North Blue, we received covert intel that Marine Headquarters had already dispatched substantial forces to rescue you.”
Senor reflexively reached for a cigarette—then stopped himself.
“…These forces include Admiral Sengoku the Buddha, former Admiral ‘Black Arm’ Zephyr, Vice Admiral ‘Hero’ Garp, and Rear Admiral Borsalino, nicknamed the ‘Monster’ within HQ…”
At that, Bullet couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Whoa, whoa, what the hell!?”
He lunged forward, eyes wide, lips twitching with disbelief.
“All three legendary forces of the Marines—coming to rescue you!?”
Sengoku, Garp, Zephyr—names that struck fear across the Grand Line.
Pillars of justice. Titans of strength.
Sengoku, the only serving Admiral, should have been holding down Marineford.
Zephyr, long retired, had withdrawn from the battlefield to train recruits.
And Garp? The hero who chased Gol D. Roger to the ends of the sea.
And yet—all three, along with the “Monster” Borsalino, mobilized just to rescue a Rear Admiral?
If he hadn’t heard it himself, Bullet would’ve never believed it.
“Darren, you bastard… don’t tell me—you’re a Celestial Dragon?”
Darren snorted.
“Other than my shared taste for wealth, women, and power, I’ve got nothing in common with those pig-faced ‘gods’ who call themselves Celestial Dragons.”
He turned back to Senor and smiled.
“So… you left a Vivre Card, didn’t you?”
Senor’s pupils shrank.
He took a deep breath to compose himself, reached into his suit, and pulled out a crumpled strip of paper, handing it to Darren.
“Yes, Lord Darren.”
“This is one half of my Vivre Card. The other half, I entrusted to an Underworld informant bought off by the Donquixote Family.”
“If everything’s gone as planned, then by now, the other half should’ve already reached the Marines.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 190: Chapter 92: It’s Part of the Mission Too
Summary:
“Even beneath duty’s heaviest cloak, a man sometimes must endure absurdity—for the sake of those he swore to protect.”
Chapter Text
New World – A Midway Transit Island
The city bustled with noise and chaos. Streets were jammed with carriages and hawkers shouting over one another.
Lining both sides of the busy roads were countless shops brimming with goods. Merchants moved in haste, while curses echoed from the shadows of narrow alleyways.
Ships from all corners of the world docked and departed from the harbor. Sailors fought over mooring space as sails fluttered like waves, and shouts filled the air.
Three men strolled down a cobbled street in civilian clothes—Zephyr, Sengoku, and Borsalino. Each wore a wide-brimmed hat and a long coat that obscured their bodies and most of their faces.
“Are you sure this is the right place, Sengoku?”
Zephyr glanced around with a wary eye, his voice lowered in caution.
Just then, a group of rugged-looking men passed on the other side of the street, laughing boisterously.
Swords hung at their waists. Their eyes were sharp and wild. It was obvious—they were the type who licked blood from their blades.
“Pirates!”
Zephyr's eyes widened, and he made to charge forward, but Sengoku grabbed his arm tightly and hissed through gritted teeth:
“Let it go, Zephyr—keep a low profile! Don’t forget why we’re here!”
Zephyr glared after the pirates, now disappearing into the crowd, and grumbled under his breath in frustration.
“Then get moving!”
Seeing Sengoku still standing there, Zephyr suddenly narrowed his eyes.
“Wait... don’t tell me you don’t know where it is!?”
Sengoku’s mouth twitched. His face flushed red.
“I’ve never been to that kind of place before!”
“How would I know where it is!?”
“Unless you’ve been there? If you’re so familiar, then you lead the way!”
Zephyr went silent. Awkwardly.
He hadn’t been there either.
“…I’ll lead the way,” came Borsalino’s lazy, smiling voice from the side, clearly enjoying the show.
The two men blinked.
They watched as Borsalino casually approached a rotund man wearing a gemstone ring and stopped in front of him.
“Hey,” he said with an unsettling grin. “Where’s the best geisha house in town?”
“Who the hell—!?”
The man, startled by the sudden grab, turned to curse. His expensive suit stretched taut over his large belly.
But as he looked up and saw the tall figure looming over him—saw that sly face half-shrouded in shadow, that sideways leer—cold sweat broke down his back.
“G-Geisha house? It’s, uh… that way…”
His chins quivered as he raised a trembling finger.
“J-Just walk about two minutes down the road…”
Borsalino released the man’s collar and gently adjusted it with a smile.
“Thanks a lot.”
So polite… the merchant thought, before immediately fleeing in terror.
“All set.”
Borsalino turned back to his speechless comrades with a satisfied smile.
—Two minutes later—
They stood before a refined building, its traditional Japanese architecture elegant like a miniature palace.
Sengoku and Zephyr stood stiffly, discomfort written all over their faces. Their bodies tensed instinctively.
“Honored guests, welcome.”
A young woman in a black-and-red cheongsam bowed deeply, her figure graceful, her movement elegant. The curve of her pale chestline rose enticingly.
Soft music drifted from within the building, mingling with the scents of liquor, perfume, and roasted delicacies. Dim lighting gave the air a hazy, decadent feel.
Sengoku and Zephyr twitched.
They looked at each other, faces tight.
“Hey, Sengoku… we’re not actually going in there, are we?”
Zephyr’s voice trembled slightly.
Sengoku didn’t look much better—his expression grim.
“When it comes to Underworld intel, places like this are… often the most informative.”
He sighed.
“We’ll endure. Our mission is to rescue Darren. Compared to that, this is nothing.”
“We’re only here to gather intel anyway. We’re not even drinking. No need to be nervous.”
At the mention of his top student still suffering, Zephyr’s face hardened.
He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and muttered with resolve:
“If that’s how it is… then so be it.”
Borsalino, watching their agonized expressions, scratched his head in confusion.
It’s a geisha house, not an execution ground. What’s with the grim faces?
He shook his head, stepped forward confidently, lit a cigarette, and casually wrapped an arm around the hostess’s waist.
“Big room. Upstairs.”
Then he turned back and grinned at the stunned pair:
“Oh, and be sure to give a little squeeze as you pass, otherwise you’ll stand out.”
…Squeeze!?
Sengoku and Zephyr froze, faces darkening as they covered their faces and followed behind like beaten dogs.
—
Three minutes later.
“Hahahahaha! More! Don’t stop!”
Sengoku, cigar in mouth, face flushed with red, raised a cup high and laughed with glee.
“Keep the music going! More dancing!!”
On stage, elegant dancers swayed, while geishas in colorful kimonos played shamisen and zither on either side.
“Come on, Zephyr! Drink up!! Old man Kong gave us funds for the mission, didn’t he? This counts as part of the job!”
He slung an arm around Zephyr, who sat stiffly in the corner, clearly uncomfortable.
Zephyr gritted his teeth.
“Sengoku—don’t forget why we’re here!”
Then he turned to growl at the third man.
“And you—Borsalino! Why do you know this kind of place so well!?”
Still puffing on his cigar, Borsalino raised both hands in mock surrender, his face the picture of innocence.
“Well, back in the North Blue, Commander Tokikake used to bring me here all the time…”
Zephyr: …
He looked at Borsalino’s greasy smile, then recalled Tokikake’s half-assed face and behavior. For a moment, he actually felt kind of bad for the geisha girls having to entertain these two degenerates.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 191: Chapter 93: I Have a Plan
Summary:
“In the absence of god's, plans are the prayers of the desperate—and the will to act is the answer they give themselves.”
Chapter Text
Soft music floated through the air like a gentle breeze, lulling the senses.
The lamplight lit up the geishas’ crimson lips. The painted panels behind them whispered of longing and indulgence.
Suddenly—
The music stopped.
Thud. Thud. Thud…
The dancers collapsed mid-performance, one by one.
Zephyr’s eyes snapped sharp in an instant.
Borsalino smirked.
“Hm? Why’d the music stop?”
Sengoku, bleary-eyed and reeking of alcohol, grumbled as he stirred.
In the luxurious private room, every geisha and dancer aside from the three men had fallen unconscious.
Zephyr cursed under his breath.
“Wake the hell up!”
Just then, the door creaked open.
A man in a white suit stepped inside.
He wore a black mask that completely concealed his face. In his hand was a finely crafted cane. Moving with practiced elegance, he bowed toward the three men and smiled.
“Honored Marines, I bring you a message.”
“Who are you?” Zephyr’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
The man shrugged lightly.
“No one important. But this envelope contains information you may want.”
He reached into his coat and produced a letter, handing it politely to Zephyr.
An Underworld agent? They've already figured out who we are…?
That thought flickered in Zephyr’s mind as he took the envelope, warily.
“A single sheet?”
He frowned at the crumpled scrap of white paper. No writing. Completely blank.
“It’s a Vivre Card.”
Sengoku, now sober, leaned over with a serious expression.
A Vivre Card?
Zephyr blinked, then opened his palm and laid the scrap of paper flat.
A strange sight unfolded—
In the windless room, the sheet trembled and crept ever so slightly toward a specific direction.
It really was a Vivre Card.
“Whose is it?” Sengoku’s voice turned sharp as he stared down the masked man.
“I’m sorry, Admiral Sengoku,” the man replied, “but I don’t know.”
“But what I can tell you is this—its owner is currently inside the Beasts Pirates’ main base.”
“Whether you believe it or not… is up to you.”
And with that, he turned and left.
Borsalino, watching the figure’s back, casually raised a glowing finger.
“No. He’s just a civilian.”
Sengoku placed a hand on Borsalino’s wrist, shaking his head.
“Sengoku,” Zephyr asked, eyes fixed on the trembling Vivre Card. “Can we trust this?”
Sengoku paused, then exhaled.
“The card points toward Wano… and the Underworld…”
He murmured.
“If I recall correctly… Darren had ties to the Underworld, didn’t he?”
—
“So what you’re saying is—the other half of the Vivre Card is now in Admiral Sengoku’s hands?”
In the damp, foul-smelling prison, Darren tucked the Vivre Card away and looked calmly at Senor.
“Yes, Lord Darren.”
Senor nodded.
“And on my way into the prison, I overheard something.”
He gathered his memory.
“For some unknown reason, both Kaido and ‘Wildfire’ King have left the island.”
At those words, both Darren and Bullet lit up.
Kaido and King—gone?
Which meant… the only major force left on the island was that suspender-wearing freak, “Plague” Queen!?
The thought sent a fire burning in both their eyes.
This was it.
Over the past few days, Darren and Bullet hadn’t just trained obsessively—they’d also been planning an escape.
The prison’s defenses were manageable. While heavily guarded, it lacked true high-tier forces.
The real challenge came after breaking out.
In their current state, they had no chance against Kaido. Not with King and Queen by his side.
But if only Queen remained…?
They had a shot.
“The key to these Seastone cuffs.”
Darren muttered, staring at the shackles on his wrists.
Bullet nodded.
“Exactly. We need that key before anything else.”
Without the Seastone’s suppression, with their full strength returned, taking down Queen and escaping the island was entirely possible.
Senor, noticing their expressions, asked anxiously:
“But wouldn’t it be safer to wait for the Marines’ rescue?”
“No. No one knows when Kaido might return.”
Darren shook his head.
“The longer we wait, the greater the risk.”
If Kaido suddenly changed his mind and decided to kill them both, they’d be done.
The Marines were the backup plan—not the primary one.
“Yeah, I say we act now,” Bullet said, almost too eagerly.
Darren glanced at him and chuckled inwardly.
He’s probably scared that if the Marines arrive, he won’t get a second chance to escape.
Facing Kaido, he might have a shot.
But against Garp + Sengoku + Zephyr?
Even Whitebeard would struggle against that lineup.
“I understand.”
Senor drew a deep breath.
“Then please, Lord Darren—give me your command. What do I need to do?”
“I’ve mapped the enemy’s troop deployments. Queen’s laboratory is northwest of the prison, surrounded by massive weapons factories. It’s only about a minute from here.”
Bullet added grimly:
“And the key to the Seastone cuffs? That fat bastard keeps it on him at all times.”
Darren closed his eyes and began thinking, fast.
The lab…
The factories…
The furnaces… chimneys…
The prison…
The key…
As he pressed his fingers to his temple, both Senor and Bullet fell silent.
The former had heard many stories of Darren’s intellect.
As for the latter… well, strategy was not Bullet’s forte.
“I think I have a plan.”
At last, Darren raised his head and locked eyes with Senor.
“But Senor—this plan hinges on you. And it’s going to be dangerous.”
Senor grinned.
“Leave it to me.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 192: Chapter 94: The Bloodstained Overalls
Summary:
“Even in chains, the will to rise burns brighter than any flame.”
Chapter Text
"Muhahaha, looks like you're still in good spirits..."
"So? Still holding out?"
Inside the gloomy prison, Queen was up to his usual "torment" of the two prisoners.
He gazed down at the two figures sprawled on the floor, gasping wildly like beasts, and let out a triumphant, wicked laugh.
"As long as you’re willing to submit, all of this will end."
"Of course, personally, I’d rather you didn’t. Specimens this perfect aren’t easy to come by."
Queen puffed on his cigar with relish, blowing smoke rings as he occasionally glanced at the life monitors.
"Is that all you've got?"
Darren panted heavily, sneering.
The searing pain made it hard to breathe.
Bulging veins twisted grotesquely beneath his flushed, burning skin, pulsating with the pounding of his heart.
"Tch. Still mouthing off."
Queen's beady eyes narrowed with disdain.
"Once I finish installing the newest lab gear, I’ll be able to develop a more potent strain of the virus. Then, you won't even be able to beg for mercy."
"Bastard!!"
Darren struggled to his feet, face twisted with fury, and hurled a punch toward Queen’s pudgy face.
Queen easily caught his arm, sneering.
"Seastone isn’t pleasant, huh? That was a soft little punch..."
He drove a heavy fist into Darren’s gut. Darren’s body folded like a cooked shrimp, blood spurting violently from his mouth.
It splattered across Queen’s face and drenched his overalls.
Queen: ...
"You filthy little shit!! You dare spray blood all over my face!!"
Queen froze for a second, then exploded in rage.
He was about to roll up his sleeves and teach them a lesson when he saw the two of them collapsed on the floor like dying dogs, barely breathing. Grinding his teeth, he gave up.
"I'll deal with you after I clean myself up!"
Snarling, the fat man in suspenders slammed the cell door shut and stormed off.
Silence returned to the prison.
A minute passed.
Darren and Bullet slowly pushed themselves up from the filthy, stinking floor.
"You bastard... if you weren’t a Marine, you could’ve made a hell of an actor."
Bullet, face pale, shot a weak glance at the dark-haired Marine.
Even though his body and resistance had improved, Queen’s virus no longer did him serious damage.
But the agony of each injection still followed him like a shadow—never easing.
Darren wiped the blood from his lips and smiled.
"Who says you can't be a good actor and a Marine?"
Still catching his breath, he raised an eyebrow, voice teasing.
"There are plenty of Marines out there with better acting skills than me..."
Bullet scoffed with contempt.
"That fat bastard’s going to be running in circles after you now. You piece of work..."
He recalled how he’d lost an arm to one of Darren’s vicious tricks in their past clash, his jaw clenched with audible grit.
"...You're rotten."
"Thanks."
"Damn it! That wasn’t a compliment!!"
Bullet roared in fury.
"You seriously piss people off, you know that?!"
Darren chuckled, leaning back against the damp wall, tilting his head up slightly, eyes dazed.
"Bullet, soon we’ll break out. Once we’re out... you ever thought about what you want to do?"
The flickering yellow light of an old oil lamp cast a warm glow, throwing a wavering shadow of the young Marine’s profile on the wall.
Bullet gave Darren a puzzled look, the anger slowly fading from his face.
He fell silent for a few seconds, then slowly grinned wickedly.
"Be the strongest."
"That won’t be easy."
Darren smiled.
Bullet sneered.
"You wouldn’t get it. Just keep climbing ranks and be your good little Admiral."
"Don’t get soft, Darren."
"Next time we meet, if you’ve gone weak—I’ll twist your head off."
Darren narrowed his eyes with a grin.
"Same to you."
Just then, a low voice echoed from the wall between them.
"Lord Darren."
Ripples spread across the cracked wall. Senor’s silhouette emerged within its watery surface.
"Everything’s ready, just as you arranged. How’s your side?"
Darren answered calmly:
"Proceed as planned."
Senor nodded.
"I’ll head out then."
"Wait."
Just as Senor was about to vanish into the wall, Darren stopped him.
Senor turned back, patient.
"Any further orders, Lord Darren?"
Darren shook his head, then asked:
"Got a smoke?"
Senor blinked, checked his suit, and pulled out a crumpled pack.
"Only one left."
He handed the cigarette and lighter to Darren.
"One’s enough."
Darren took the last cigarette and gently placed it between Senor’s lips.
Senor stared, momentarily unsure how to react.
Click—
The lighter flared.
Darren tucked the pack and lighter back into Senor’s jacket, stepping back.
"I’m a Marine. So I’ll do it the Marine’s way."
He smiled at Senor.
Then sharply raised his hand.
A perfect salute.
The Seastone cuffs clinked as he moved.
Senor’s eyes widened, mouth slightly agape.
The lit cigarette clung to his lip, unmoving.
"Go. When we break out, let’s sit down and share a smoke."
Darren lowered his arm, smiling.
Senor finally snapped out of it.
He took a deep drag and nodded firmly, then dove into the watery wall.
"...Yes, Lord Darren."
—
On the brown island terrain.
Northwest of the prison.
In a ten-meter-tall facility, room after room overflowed with experimental gear.
"Those damn bastards! They got my clothes all filthy!!"
Queen stormed into his quarters, grumbling. He finally wriggled his blubbery mass out of the tight overalls and tossed on a towel. Turning on the hot water, he headed to his wardrobe.
He opened it.
Dozens of identical, pristine pairs of overalls hung inside.
Queen grabbed one, humming, and hung it up. Then, remembering, he dug into the bloodied pair and pulled out a ring of keys, hanging those up too.
Still humming a tune—"Muhahaha"—he stepped into the shower.
The sound of rushing water filled the room. Steam coated the glass door. Behind it, the distorted silhouette of the big man danced and sang.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 193: Chapter 95: Life-or-Death Sprint
Summary:
“To win the war, sometimes you must first light the fire yourself.”
Chapter Text
The sound of upbeat, energetic music suddenly echoed through the running shower.
Through the steam-fogged glass, the rotund figure of the big man swayed to the rhythm.
Queen grabbed the showerhead like a microphone and began singing in a deep voice:
"Zumu zumu zumu zumu..."
"If I get thinner, I'll be too popular〜♪"
"So I don't get thinner, that's my kind of...funk!!"
"I may look chubby, but it's all muscle〜♪"
The shadow of the bouncing ball twisted wildly, arms flailing as his voice grew more fevered.
"I can sing and dance, that's my kind of...funk!!"
"Oh, YEAH!"
But just as Queen was singing his heart out in self-amused delight—
BOOM!!!
A deafening explosion thundered in the distance. The entire facility shook violently. The windows shattered under the blast wave.
"What the hell!? What’s going on!?"
Shlk! Startled, Queen yanked open the glass door, sticking his head out.
A Beast Pirates soldier, wearing a horned helmet, burst in trembling.
"Q-Queen-sama!! The furnace in Factory No. 3 in Area A just exploded!!"
"WHAT!?"
Queen's eyes bulged. He yanked a towel around his waist and his massive, round body duang, duang, duang ran to the shattered window.
What he saw made his eyeballs nearly pop out of their sockets. His jaw dropped.
In the distance, one of the armament factories was engulfed in flames. A mushroom cloud of fire and smoke billowed into the sky. The towering smokestacks collapsed one by one amidst continuing explosions.
The area had descended into chaos. Amidst the inferno, Beast Pirates and forced laborers alike had become living torches, writhing in screams of agony.
"What the hell happened, you useless idiots!!"
Queen grabbed the pirate by the collar, eyes bloodshot.
"Something like this had to happen while I’m here! When Boss Kaido gets back, he’ll kill me!!"
The soldier was trembling all over, face pale.
"I-I don't know... It looks like someone tossed explosives into the furnace... People are already rushing to put out the fire..."
"Damn it!!"
Queen saw more Beast Pirates racing toward the blaze on beast-drawn war chariots, raising dust trails across the ground.
"I’ve got no choice—I have to go too."
There were only eight factories in the base, spread across Areas A, B, and C.
They were the Beast Pirates' biggest economic asset—Kaido’s pride and joy!
If the fire spread, Kaido really would twist his head off.
No time to think. Queen grabbed his overalls and tried to put them on.
But his round frame was too much—he struggled to squeeze in, face red with panic.
"Idiot! What are you staring at!? Help me!!"
"Y-yes sir, Queen-sama!!"
The pirate rushed forward, sweating profusely as he finally managed to stuff Queen into the overalls.
"Move out!!"
Queen lit a cigar and stormed out of the lab, not sparing a glance back.
He muttered curses:
"If this sparks a chain reaction and hits another factory, I'm screwed!!"
The pirate following him flinched. With Queen’s nasty temper, if things went south, they’d all suffer.
RUMBLE!!
The beast-chariot roared with steam, engine at full power, charging like a rabid hound toward the fire.
Two deep ruts scarred the earth behind them, dust billowing in their wake.
Back in the lab.
The shower still sprayed hot water.
Steam filled the room.
Then—
Ripples stirred on the wall.
Senor emerged from the surface, gasping, pale.
He glanced toward the direction Queen had gone. Towers of flame pierced the sky like grand fireworks.
"Lord Darren’s plan... worked."
Senor steadied his breathing.
Explosives were everywhere on this island—it was the Beast Pirates’ main base and one of the underground world's largest arms factories.
A mafia veteran like Senor only needed to make minor tweaks to set up a delayed detonation.
Destroying a whole building required a massive payload.
But destroying a furnace? Sometimes all it took was a single spark.
Triggering a massive explosion in one factory meant Queen would definitely rush to the scene.
And that meant...
Senor’s eyes landed on the key ring hanging from the hook.
The Seastone Cuffs key!
That was the target.
"Lord Darren was right. A scientist like Queen can’t stand having blood all over him. He had to take off his key while showering."
"And once the factory exploded, all his attention would be pulled to the fire. There’s a good chance he’d forget the key entirely."
"And even with Observation Haki, if he’s distracted... he wouldn’t notice me slipping in."
Senor muttered with newfound respect.
He grabbed the key ring.
"Now... it’s the final life-or-death sprint."
His eyes sharpened. He dove into the watery ground, swimming at full speed toward the prison!
On foot, it would take about a minute to run from the lab to the prison.
But with the Swim-Swim Fruit, swimming through earth was slower.
"Two minutes..."
Senor gritted his teeth.
He had to get the Seastone Cuffs key to Darren—before that fat bastard realized what he’d left behind!
---
To be continued...
Chapter 194: Chapter 96: The Long-Lost Sunlight
Summary:
“Only those who’ve touched the abyss can hunger for the sky.”
Chapter Text
Prison.
A deep, thunderous rumble echoed through the walls, and the flame of the oil lamp flickered violently.
Chunks of plaster and dust shook loose from the ceiling and walls. The prison itself seemed to tremble ever so slightly.
"It's started."
Bullet, who had been leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them. A ferocious grin crept up the corners of his lips.
His pupils glowed red, like a wild beast awakening in the darkness.
"Looks like your plan worked."
He turned his gaze toward Darren.
Darren, too, opened his eyes slowly. A cold gleam shimmered in their depths.
"Not necessarily. But it’s time we moved."
As he spoke, he slowly got to his feet, stretching his joints. A sharp crackling sound like dry beans being roasted echoed through the cell.
"Move? I thought we were waiting for that guy to bring back the key?"
Bullet blinked, puzzled.
"This isn’t part of the original plan."
Darren’s gaze settled on the rusted iron bars before him. He spoke quietly.
"We’re going to meet him halfway."
He looked back at Bullet, a faint smile on his lips.
"You coming?"
Bullet scoffed.
"Who do you think you're talking to!?"
Without another word, the two stepped to the cell’s bars, shoulders aligned, hands gripping the metal.
With a roar—
"AHHH!!!"
The two shouted like wild beasts. Blood-red veins filled their eyes, and muscle swelled grotesquely beneath their skin.
Veins bulged like writhing centipedes.
Boom!
Boom!
The ground beneath their feet began to crack, spiderweb fractures creeping outward under their sheer power.
"BREAK!!!"
Bullet roared.
Darren's eyes blazed as he let out a furious howl.
Clang! Clang!
Anyone witnessing this would be horrified—
Even with Seastone Cuffs suppressing their powers, the two Devil Fruit users were forcing the metal bars to twist and bend with raw strength.
Had they been unshackled, they wouldn't just break through these bars—they could punch straight through the prison’s mountain walls.
But even now, drained of almost ninety percent of their strength, their resistance training and enhanced physiques gave them enough power to crush the prison’s defenses.
They hadn't done this before because it had been pointless.
With the Seastone Cuffs still locked, even if they broke out, Queen would hunt them down. Their escape would be futile.
Worse, a failed breakout would only tighten security and strengthen the prison’s defenses.
But now—they didn’t have to wait anymore.
Crack! Crack!
The bars contorted and broke, a hole large enough for a man to squeeze through opening in the cell.
Just then—
BANG!
Beasts Pirates outside the cell, alerted by the noise, slammed the main prison doors open and rushed in.
But the sight that greeted them was two pairs of glowing, blood-hued eyes emerging from the shadows.
The prisoners were crawling out of the torn cell, their expressions twisted with killing intent, grinning with feral malice.
The pirates froze, faces turning pale.
"T-they escaped..."
"They ripped open the bars with their bare hands..."
"No way… this can't be happening…"
They couldn’t react.
The next second—
Darren and Bullet pounced like untamed beasts, charging straight into the group!
In the flickering firelight of the gloomy prison, blood sprayed.
Roars and screams rang out in unison. Severed limbs and shattered bones flew. Shadows danced in a storm of blood and chaos.
Within ten seconds, the noise ceased.
The prison was silent again.
The flames died.
The only sound left was the steady drip of blood on stone. From the darkness, only two pairs of deadly eyes gleamed.
—
"Something’s wrong…"
At the prison's main gate, Snook, a Beasts Pirates soldier wearing a horned helmet, tightened his grip on his battle axe.
Twenty-five years old, he was a real fighter—a ranked Headliner.
Though the Beasts Pirates only had three active Headliners at the moment—two of whom had already gone to the armory fires—he was the weakest. Still, he believed one day he’d become a lead performer like Boss Kaido’s top men.
"You can do this, Snook… You’ve got this…"
"Even if those two escaped, Queen-sama's viruses must’ve drained them. They’re probably weakened beyond belief."
"This is your shot, Snook… Stop their escape. When the chaos ends, you might earn Kaido-sama’s reward. Maybe even become a All-Stars."
Snook muttered nervously, forehead damp with sweat. From the prison depths, the screams grew louder and more desperate.
Then, suddenly—silence.
"The sound... stopped?"
Snook swallowed hard. His eyes locked on the corridor door. His hands trembled.
BOOM!!
The steel door blasted open.
A bloodstained hand reached out from the darkness, gripping the frame. Chains clinked. Seastone Cuffs dripped with thick blood.
Seastone Cuffs!
Snook’s eyes shrank. Then his face twisted into a cruel smile.
"Hahahaha!! You’re still shackled in Seastone! You don’t stand a chance against me!!"
Without hesitation, he lunged forward with his axe.
He knew the pain of Seastone. It would sap any Devil Fruit user’s strength. He could win.
This time, he’d make a name for himself.
Ambition blazed in his eyes. His body was suddenly covered in gray scales. In seconds, he transformed into a giant bipedal lizard.
A Zoan-type Devil Fruit user—Lizard Form.
Tongue flickering, Snook raised his axe and slashed toward the dark silhouette.
"Too slow."
A calm voice cut through the air.
CLANG!!
The axe struck the doorframe, carving out a massive chunk.
He missed!?
"Impossible!!"
Debris flew. Snook screamed in frustration.
But then—that bloodstained hand lunged out again.
It clamped over the lizard’s skull.
Under the touch of the Seastone Cuffs, Snook whimpered. His body shrank back into human form.
Then—
The hand drove his head into the wall.
BOOM!!
Stone shattered. Blood sprayed.
The hand dragged down—gouging a deep red trail.
Snook collapsed, his skull crushed beyond recognition. He was dead. Absolutely dead.
Only then did a young, blood-soaked face emerge from the corridor's shadows.
"Seastone Cuffs… If they’re not a burden, they’re a damn fine weapon against ability users."
Darren eyed the blood-dripping chains.
His body was drenched in blood—his or the enemy’s, it wasn’t clear.
Bullet followed, equally drenched.
He glanced down at Snook’s mutilated corpse and chuckled darkly.
"That was brutal. Doesn’t seem very Marine-like, Darren… Sure you don’t want to ditch all that and come be a pirate with me?"
Darren didn’t answer. He simply flicked the blood off his hand.
The blazing sun bathed them in light.
In the distance, armory buildings continued to collapse, devoured by roaring flames.
Black smoke towered into the heavens.
Darren tilted his head back, face to the sky, a smile playing on his lips.
"Sunlight... It's been too long."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 195: Chapter 97: You Damn Thief
Summary:
“There’s no fury like that of a beast whose den has been breached.”
Chapter Text
"Kill them!"
"They escaped!!"
"Damn it!! Take them out!!"
"They’re still wearing Seastone Cuffs! Their strength is weakened!!"
"Get them!!"
Roars and murderous intent surged from every direction like a rising tide. Beasts Pirates swarmed toward Darren and Bullet, weapons in hand, shouting as they surrounded the two escapees.
The sheer number of enemies kicked up a storm of dust across the brown earth, forming a suffocating wave of bodies that closed in, forming an impenetrable ring around them.
There was no way out.
"Never thought I’d be fighting back-to-back with a Marine."
Bullet cracked his knuckles, his aura rising steadily. Crimson brutality clouded his eyes, and his wild golden hair whipped in the gusts rushing in with the chaos.
Darren took an offensive stance. The Seastone Cuffs clinked loudly as he smirked coldly.
"Just don’t slow me down."
As the pirates rushed in from every side, Darren and Bullet stood back-to-back, grinning with reckless glee.
One second.
Two seconds.
Just as the pirates swung their clubs and axes, grinning viciously—
"Ikuso!!"
With a sharp glare, both Darren and Bullet exploded into motion.
Darren sidestepped a descending greatsword, then in a flash, seized the pirate’s throat.
The chain of his Seastone Cuffs wrapped around the man’s neck—
"Beasts, huh? Let me show you what a real beast looks like."
He yanked violently.
The chains constricted with lethal force. The pirate’s face went pale.
SWOOSH!
His head shot into the air, blood spraying like a geyser onto Darren’s black uniform.
And then—
A dozen weapons crashed down on him.
CLANG CLANG CLANG!!
But instead of blades slicing flesh, metal clanged against steel.
The pirates froze. Their eyes widened.
A warhammer slammed into Darren’s head—and only managed to tilt it slightly.
Blades shattered upon his back with a CRACK, shards flying.
Spiked clubs got stuck around his neck—and didn’t move an inch.
"Monster…"
"That’s… the ‘Steel Body’..."
"Just like Kaido-sama’s physique!!"
"How is this even possible!?"
Despair swept through the pirates.
Then Darren smiled.
"Are you done? Then it’s my turn."
He surged forward, crashing into the stunned pirates.
Elbows, chokes, knees, punches, sweeps, and throat strikes—Darren unleashed the most refined, lethal hand-to-hand combat on the seas.
A fusion of standard Marine martial arts and battlefield killing techniques.
Attack.
Attack.
Attack.
No defense. No dodging.
Every strike from the pirates landed on Darren—but none slowed him down. None even fazed him.
Bullets struck his body and bounced off.
Even a portable grenade launcher fired at point-blank range only made him stagger slightly—before he emerged from the smoke like a demon.
In contrast, Darren’s attacks were simple. Brutal. Pure.
Not one pirate could survive more than a second.
A single blow crushed hearts. Tore off limbs. Twisted heads from bodies.
Where Darren passed, blood painted the ground. Corpses littered the battlefield.
The pirates approaching to reinforce the encirclement stopped, trembling.
"Oi, oi, oi—are you guys just scratching him?"
Bullet frowned.
He dodged an axe from the left, seized a pirate’s head—and slammed it into the ground.
BOOM!!
The earth exploded beneath the blow, stones flying.
Unlike Darren’s all-out madness, Bullet’s style was measured, efficient.
Though his body was superhuman, his physical defense wasn’t nearly as insane as Darren’s.
Not to mention—he was still missing one arm.
Even so, his offense was overwhelming.
He darted through the crowd like a force of nature, sending pirate after pirate flying, blood and limbs scattering.
No flashy Haki surges.
No earth-shattering power.
Only raw, close-range violence.
Every part of his body was a weapon. Every instinct honed to kill.
At that moment—
Darren and Bullet were drenched in blood.
Grinning like madmen as they carved their way through.
As if only this brutality proved they were truly alive.
—
Far from the prison.
Faster!!
He had to go faster!!
Beneath the earth, Senor’s bloodshot eyes blazed as he swam through waves of subterranean moisture. His limbs churned frantically, leaving a deep trail in the soil.
He didn’t put the Seastone Cuffs key in his pocket—it was clenched tightly between his teeth.
He avoided deep-diving to stay faster. Subterranean pressure would’ve slowed him and drained his strength.
Faster!!
He could already see the prison built against the mountainside. He could see pirates swarming two lone figures.
Lord Darren and Bullet!
They broke out!?
Senor hesitated—then bit down harder.
No one had stopped him so far. The prison was under siege.
He realized immediately: Lord Darren had risked everything—his life—to create this window of opportunity!
And then—
"You damn thief!! You stole my key!!"
A furious bellow boomed behind him, the sound so heavy it struck like a tidal wave.
"You’re dead!!"
RUMBLE RUMBLE—
Thunderous footsteps closed in fast. Senor looked back—and his blood ran cold.
A hulking figure in black-and-white overalls roared like an unleashed beast, stomping the ground into clouds of dust.
Charging like an unstoppable war chariot—
Ancient Zoan. Dragon-Dragon Fruit, Model: Brachiosaurus.
All-Star of the Beasts Pirates—Queen the Plague!!
He’s caught up!!
---
To be continued...
Chapter 196: Chapter 98: The Final Life-or-Death Sprint
Summary:
“Even a dying hand, if it holds purpose, can defy the heavens.”
Chapter Text
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Thick limbs like stone pillars pounded the earth, hurling up dust and gravel. Queen, in his enormous Brachiosaurus form, charged forward with bloodshot eyes, cigar clenched in his jaws. Twin streams of smoke jetted from his nostrils.
The heavy armor on his arms reflected the searing sunlight. From the shoulders of his mechanical limbs, rows of mounted machine guns extended, locking their sights on the darting figure weaving through the earth below.
Queen was furious.
More furious than he had ever been in his entire life.
That damned rat had dared to blow up the armory furnace, sneak into his lab, and steal the Seastone Cuffs key!
Which meant—he had seen Queen’s glorious body in its full, exposed glory!!
"You’re dead!! No one can save you!! Queen said so!!"
The enraged Brachiosaurus roared. The machine guns on his shoulders blazed with fire.
BANG BANG BANG BANG!!
Bullets stormed out like a monsoon, chasing Senor’s form as they ripped craters in the dirt, sand flying.
Feeling the murderous aura behind him, Senor’s back went cold. He dove headfirst into the ground.
RAT-TAT-TAT!!
Sand erupted in sprays.
"Where do you think you’re going, little rat!?"
Queen sneered and expanded his Observation Haki. In an instant, he locked onto Senor’s position beneath the earth.
CLACK—
His cybernetic components shifted. From a shadowy opening emerged a missile launcher, gleaming red under the sun.
"DIE!!"
Brachio Launcher!
The miniature missile roared into the air, breaking the sound barrier as it plunged into the ground.
BOOOOM!!
A massive explosion erupted. A towering mushroom cloud bloomed skyward.
Scorching shockwaves blasted waves of sand. Fire rolled out in surges.
In an instant, every pirate within a hundred-meter radius went deaf, staring slack-jawed at the blast site.
"Did we get him?"
"Of course! Queen-sama’s missile could sink a warship!!"
"He’s toast!!"
"...Wait—WHAT!?"
Queen's eyes bulged.
SHWOOO!!
From the heart of the inferno, a smoke-blackened figure burst out like a tiger leaping from a ravine, like a swordfish breaking ocean waves.
Dirt and steam trailed him as he flew.
His expensive suit was gone, destroyed in the blast. His back was a mess of burns and gore.
But his expression remained composed, as if pain meant nothing. He moved with the grace of a whale leaping into the sunlight.
His shattered sunglasses flashed with reflected fire.
Against Queen’s massive frame, he looked pitifully small—but carried a fearless resolve.
Senor stretched his arms out like a professional diver. He arced midair, using the explosion’s momentum to dive again into the earth.
"He deep-dived at the last second!? But your aura is flickering now. How long can you last!?"
Queen regained his focus, snarling.
He glanced toward the prison—he could clearly see Darren and Bullet breaking through, moving toward the rat.
He couldn’t let that damn thief pass the key to them!
"You won’t succeed!!"
The Brachiosaurus let out another roar. He raised his long neck, jaws stretching wide.
A golden light surged in his throat.
"This…"
Beneath his broken glasses, Senor’s pupils shrank.
The pressure of death crashed down on him. He clenched his teeth and dove deeper into the earth.
Then—
"Black Fire Beam!!"
ROAR!!
A dark golden laser shot from Queen’s throat, slamming into the ground where Senor vanished.
The earth melted like waves under hellish heat, rising in liquid folds.
Fire exploded upward, distorting the air.
A furious shockwave burst outward, flinging dozens of Beasts Pirates into the air.
When the dust cleared, a scorched crater yawned at the center.
Senor floated up from it like a lifeless corpse, blood streaming from countless wounds.
He hovered there, blood-drenched.
Beneath his broken glasses, he barely lifted his heavy eyelids.
Through blood-blurred vision, he saw Darren’s form buried in a horde of pirates.
"Just… a little more…"
His trembling hand lifted, clutching the key ring.
A hundred meters… no… even less…
"Lord Darren… I’m… sorry…"
Queen burst into laughter:
"Muhahaha!!"
"Let the dashing Queen finish you off!!"
The Brachiosaurus stomped down.
BOOM!!
The ground cratered as his legs launched him into the sky.
Ten meters.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Fifty meters high!
"Bullet!! NOW!!"
Surrounded by pirates, Darren let out a blood-red roar.
He roundhouse-kicked a group aside and leapt.
Bullet grinned wildly.
"Kahahaha!! Don’t die on me!!"
He grabbed Darren’s leg, inhaled deep, and shifted into a throwing stance.
Queen’s pupils shrank in mid-air. A dreadful realization dawned.
But it was too late.
"Stop them!! You morons!!"
The pirates froze. Too slow.
"GO!!"
Bullet stepped forward. His arm swelled like molten rock.
He hurled Darren like a cannonball.
BOOM!!
The air split as white shockwaves rippled.
Darren shot through the crowd, bulldozing pirates aside, straight toward Senor.
"DAMN IT!!!"
Queen screamed, eyes bloodshot.
"I’ll kill you all!!"
The mountain-sized Brachiosaurus plummeted from the sky, headfirst.
Like a meteor.
His target—
Senor.
Everything paused.
All eyes locked on the scene.
Brachiosaurus diving like a comet.
Marine flying like a bullet.
Time slowed.
Closer!
Senor reached out, clutching the key.
Closer!!
Darren stretched his hand forward.
Even closer!
Electric gold danced around Queen as he fell.
Their faces twisted in the rushing wind.
Closer…
A fingertip away.
CLACK!
Darren caught the key.
Senor smiled and closed his eyes.
"DIE!!"
Queen roared as he crashed down—
BOOOOOOMMMMM!!
The world exploded.
The earth split. Mountains shook.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 197: Chapter 99: Over-the-Shoulder Slam
Summary:
“True strength is not measured by the weight you carry, but by the burden you throw back.”
Chapter Text
"Brachio Bomb!!"
A colossal brachiosaurus headbutt plummeted from the heavens like a mortar shell, crashing down with unrelenting force!
"Muhahaha! You're dea—huh?!"
Queen's vicious laughter came to an abrupt halt.
In that moment, a sharp clatter of seastone cuffs hitting the ground suddenly echoed across the battlefield.
BOOM!!
The deafening explosion made every pirate nearby momentarily lose their hearing. The shockwave's volume surpassed the limits of human endurance. Golden arcs of electricity seemed to shimmer in the air.
The blast erupted outward from the brachiosaurus’s impact point, pummeling everything within a hundred-meter radius. The ground trembled with a resounding quake as deep, jagged fissures tore across the terrain.
The earth rose in waves of soil while shattered stones were pulverized into fine dust midair.
A blinding light expanded.
Yet, what appeared on the faces of the Beasts Pirates was not triumph, but shock—sheer, paralyzing disbelief. Their pupils trembled violently, as if unable to comprehend the sight before them.
Bullet’s lips curled into a faint grin.
A gale whipped through, forcing Señor to open his eyes again.
What he saw left him frozen in place.
Amid the savage tempest,
a towering, black-haired Marine stood firm upon the shattered ground, his feet driven into the earth like stakes. His dark hair danced wildly in the wind.
In his eyes blazed a ferocious, unyielding defiance. His forehead was clad in a black armor sheen—Haki of Armament.
—He had stopped the brachiosaurus's skull—a blow powerful enough to shatter mountains—dead in its tracks!
"He... he blocked it..."
"With his head..."
"And he’s unscathed... not even a scratch..."
"That... that’s impossible..."
"A monster... Is he a monster?!"
"..."
The Beasts Pirates stood petrified, dumbstruck by the unbelievable sight. A bone-chilling dread crept up their spines, numbing their scalps.
This was an ancient brachiosaurus!
Its size and weight rivaled that of a small merchant ship. And falling freely from dozens of meters above? Forget a fragile human—this impact would’ve flattened a hill into mush!
Yet that man had taken it. Without budging. Not even a single step.
Though the Marine’s physique was certainly towering and extraordinary, next to the gargantuan brachiosaurus, he still appeared laughably small.
RUMBLE...
Explosive shockwaves continued to ripple. Under Queen’s terrifying weight, Darren’s feet sank into the ground, layer by layer.
Still, he forced his head up, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. Then, he grinned savagely.
"Oi, oi, oi... you suspender-wearing tub of lard... That actually hurt, you know."
Queen’s pupils shrank.
Before he could react, the Marine commodore’s eyes gleamed with madness. In a flash, he lunged forward, arms outstretched.
Those thick, powerful arms wrapped tightly around the brachiosaurus’s thick neck. Veins bulged from the backs of his hands, and muscles swelled like twisted steel cables encasing his bones.
"Now... it’s my turn!!!"
Darren let out a wild roar, took a step forward, lowered his hips, and unleashed his strength with a violent jerk!
Before Queen’s dumbfounded eyes,
Under the stunned gazes of countless pirates,
Darren, hands locked around the dinosaur’s skull, pushed upward with all the power in his legs—his back arching with crushing force!
The brachiosaurus's mountainous body was hoisted into the air—
—and then came a brutal, thunderous over-the-shoulder slam!!!
BOOM!!
Queen’s massive frame collided headfirst with the earth, sending shards of stone flying everywhere.
His mind went blank, pupils dilating into dazed voids. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Everyone felt the ground quake violently beneath them.
RIP—RIP—
Dark cracks radiated outward from the impact point. Within a ten-meter radius, the ground structure collapsed, forming a gaping crater.
"Hiss!!"
Pirates collectively gasped. Jaws practically hit the floor at the overwhelming sight.
"How... How is this possible?! Your strength! Your body! Your defense!"
Queen howled in disbelief, his enormous form rolling in the pit, kicking up choking clouds of dust.
Stars danced before his eyes. Dizzy and staggering, he tried to rise, staring at Darren with utter disbelief, voice breaking:
"What the hell are you?! What did you DO?!"
Darren sneered. As he stepped forward, his right foot lifted high—higher than his head.
It was coated in a harsh, steely black glow—Armament Haki at its peak.
Now that he had seized the advantage, he had no intention of letting up!
His eyes narrowed.
His military boot crashed down toward Queen’s skull like a battle axe!
"You should be thanking me for this!!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!!
The sheer speed and power of that kick tore through the air, creating visible ripples.
Darren’s physical strength, explosive force, and body had long surpassed human limits.
And after that “special training” while in captivity, every metric of his physique had skyrocketed—his combat power had surged at least thirty percent beyond what it was before deployment!
Sensing the force behind that kick, Queen’s pupils contracted. His eyelids twitched violently.
Fighting through the dizziness, he clenched his jaw with force.
BOOM!!
The boot struck!
RIP!!
The ground screamed under the impact, a storm of debris erupting.
A deep trench tore open from the point of impact, stretching dozens of meters before finally halting.
Dust churned like a furious dragon, ravaging the battlefield.
Darren furrowed his brow, eyes shifting to ten meters away.
There, within the swirling smoke, Queen’s silhouette emerged—panting, struggling.
His form had changed again. The brachiosaurus forelimbs had reverted to humanoid arms. He now stood upright.
His mechanical arm spiraled into a clamp-like shape.
His right hand gripped an enormous cleaver.
At the end of his long, orange tail, a mechanical blade whirred like a chainsaw.
Human-beast hybrid form!
‘He transformed from beast to hybrid form in an instant—to dodge the attack?’
A cold glint flashed in Darren’s eyes.
He hadn’t expected this suspendered fat man to possess such explosive speed and power despite his size.
"Oi!! Darren!! Don’t just hog all the fun!! Get these damn cuffs off me!!"
From behind, Bullet’s voice rang out, teeth clenched in fury, as he remained surrounded by pirates.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 198: Chapter 100: Quite Nostalgic, Isn’t It
Summary:
“Power, once unchained, does not return quietly.”
Chapter Text
"Oh? Unlocking your seastone cuffs... are you sure that’s a good idea?"
"You’re a pirate, and I’m a Marine. We’re enemies, aren’t we..."
Hearing Bullet’s angry roar, Darren turned back with a smile and winked playfully.
Bullet: ???
His face flushed a furious red, nearly coughing up blood.
This bastard!! Aren’t we supposed to be allies right now!?
Seeing Bullet’s expression like he’d just swallowed manure, Darren couldn’t help but laugh. He lifted Señor from the ground with one hand and vanished from the spot in a flicker.
His speed reached the pinnacle—like a black phantom, he flashed straight into the crowd.
"Stop him!! You idiots!!"
Queen cried out in alarm, his dizzy head spinning.
But the pirates surrounding Bullet didn’t even catch a glimpse of Darren’s movements. All they felt was a blur—and then a crushing impact, as if struck by a speeding train. Blood spewed from their mouths as they flew back like broken kites.
The next second,
Darren appeared ghost-like beside Bullet, tossing him the ring of keys.
Bullet rolled his eyes, caught the keys with his teeth, and shoved one into the lock.
Click. The seastone cuffs dropped from his arms and hit the ground.
"Heh heh... Kahahaha... Kahahahahaha!!"
Soaked in blood, Bullet slowly stood, raising his single arm and covering his face with his hand. He threw his head back and laughed maniacally.
"Finally... Finally... my power is back!!"
BOOM!!
A tidal wave of raw, oppressive aura exploded from his body. His bloodied golden hair whipped about wildly.
Like a mighty tide, his presence surged outward, sweeping across the battlefield.
Gales roared. Lightning danced across the sky. Sparks crackled in the void.
Pirates trying to surround him froze mid-step, their movements sluggish and heavy—like wading through glue. Their faces turned ghostly pale.
All dropped to one knee, gasping in agony.
Those weaker fainted outright, eyes rolling back as they collapsed.
Darren narrowed his eyes at the sight, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
The Beasts Pirates were only a mid-tier force in the New World right now—nowhere near their strength in the canonical timeline.
Aside from Kaido, the only real powerhouses aboard were the All-Stars: King the Wildfire and Queen the Plague. Beneath them were three cobbled-together Headliners.
And judging by that lizard-man who guarded the prison, those Headliners weren’t exactly awe-inspiring.
At this point in time, the Tobiroppo hadn’t yet emerged—much less the Gifters or Numbers.
Which meant that the Beasts Pirates were sorely lacking in mid-tier combat power!
No wonder Kaido was so desperate to recruit them both.
Just then, Queen’s voice rasped through the dust and wind.
His massive form stepped forth from the swirling haze, mechanical arm rotating with cold menace. The metal claw clicked and clacked.
"So it’s Conqueror’s Haki... No wonder Kaido went through so much trouble to recruit you two..."
Feeling the wild aura blasting toward him, Queen’s expression turned grim.
"But this ends here."
"Unforgivable... You bastards didn’t just humiliate the genius Queen—you’ve turned our base upside down..."
Queen’s bloodshot eyes locked onto the three, nostrils flaring with fury. He was gritting his teeth so hard they might shatter:
"Unforgivable!!"
"I’ll wipe you out!!"
The moment he finished, Queen’s eyes glowed crimson.
"Sparking Queen!!"
Biubiubiu!!
Countless red laser blasts ripped through the air like a torrential storm, engulfing Darren and company.
That’s... Germa 66 tech!!
"Kahahaha!! Leave it to me!!"
Bullet cackled and stepped forward, slamming a hand into the ground.
"Merge!!"
RUMBLE...
The earth seemed to come alive—under Bullet’s control, a massive stone shield erupted to block the front.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
Red lasers struck relentlessly, detonating chunks of stone into the air.
But the stone shield reformed rapidly under the power of the Clank-Clank Fruit.
Explosions unleashed blazing heat. Crimson flames roared, thick black smoke curling.
Then—
A giant figure burst through the smoke, soaring into the air.
Queen, straining his black-and-white suspenders to the limit, roared and brought a massive blade down toward Darren’s head!
"Muhahaha, die—eh?!"
CLANG!!
The greatblade snapped in two.
The broken edge spun and embedded in the dirt.
Queen: ......
Darren: ???
Bullet: ???
"Impossible!! How can your body’s defense be this strong?!"
Queen’s bloodshot eyes bulged in disbelief.
He clenched his fists, Haki enveloping them.
His arms whipped forward in a flurry, sending a storm of punches at Darren.
"Gale Fist!!"
Darren sneered, meeting the attack head-on!
Fist clashed with fist!
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
The heavy sound of blows echoed like pounding rain.
Each impact unleashed shockwaves, forcing nearby pirates back.
The earth cracked beneath their feet. Stones flew.
Queen’s heart pounded with unease. His blows were having no effect!
This damn Marine—in sheer physical ability, he matched Queen’s own hybrid form. His defense was even greater!
He was an Ancient Zoan Brachiosaurus!!
This guy... Is he even human!?
So be it—
BANG!
Their fists collided again, locked in stalemate.
Suddenly, Queen’s head launched from his body, mouth open wide with razor fangs—
—and bit down on Darren’s shoulder!
"Let’s see you escape this!! Taste Queen-sama’s electric shock!!"
Queen’s eyes gleamed with cunning, grinning from between his teeth.
"Electro Queen!!"
Zzzzzzt!!
High-voltage electricity burst from his modified mouth, crackling blue.
The heat seared Darren’s skin, muscles, and organs, smoke rising.
"Muhahaha, how’s that?! Let’s see you handle—"
Queen froze. His voice broke.
"—WHAT?!"
Darren stared at him like nothing happened. He even exhaled a lazy black smoke ring.
"Germa’s tech, huh... Brings back memories."
Darren smiled, eyes flashing. He grabbed Queen’s head—
—and slammed it hard into the ground!
BOOM!!
A pillar of dust soared ten meters high.
Queen’s skull embedded into the earth, eyes spinning, blood spraying.
His Brachiosaurus body convulsed violently from the pain.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 199: Chapter 101: Should I Have Let Him Finish?
Summary:
“Arrogance shouts. Power answers.”
Chapter Text
Germa 66 technology—Darren was more than familiar with it.
Back in the North Blue, he had tested its military-grade weaponry on his own body.
Electric shocks, fire blasts, heavy punches, rocket bombardments... Weapons deadly to ordinary men were nothing more than part of Darren’s daily training routine.
Queen may have claimed to wield Germa’s military science, but his true strengths lay in biomechanical augmentation and synthesizing lethal viral agents.
"Damn you... Why don’t my attacks do anything to you?!"
From the crater where his head was embedded, Queen the Plague gasped and roared, bloodshot eyes staring in disbelief.
"I’m the Zoan-type here!!"
BOOM!!
As the words left his mouth, Queen’s neck—long and serpentine—snapped back with a twist, dragging his massive frame into a spiraling charge straight toward Darren and Bullet.
Winds howled behind his bulk. Bullet sneered:
"Let me handle this!!"
Battle hunger blazed in his eyes as he activated the Clank-Clank Fruit.
Dirt, rubble, and steel fragments surged up like living things, coiling around him. In an instant, a massive three-meter arm formed at his severed shoulder.
WHOOSH!!
Armament Haki coated it in a deep violet-black sheen—cold and solid like metal.
His golden hair whipped wildly as Bullet bared his teeth and roared:
"You fat bastard... I’ve had it with you!!"
He threw a punch!
"Super Heavy Cannon!!"
BOOM!!
Like a mortar strike, his punch smashed squarely into Queen’s gut.
With Haki and brute force unleashed at once, Queen’s rotund belly—strapped in black-and-white suspenders—rippled like waves.
THUMP!!
Queen’s body bent like a boiled shrimp. A white shockwave blasted from his back.
His face turned deathly pale. Blood spurted from nose and mouth.
He howled in pain, rolling madly across the ground, kicking up dust.
But he paid no mind. His pupils suddenly contracted to pinpoints.
Reflected within them:
A Haki-clad Marine boot, descending straight for his head!
"Damn it!! No way I’m losing to you two!!"
Queen screamed, his eyes glowing with red light.
Biubiubiu!!
Crimson laser blasts erupted like a hurricane, triggering a chain of massive explosions.
RUMBLE...
Red fire roared, black smoke poured.
A moment later—
Darren and Bullet shot backward from the smoke, landing firmly.
They patted out lingering flames and gently laid the unconscious Señor behind them, eyes narrowing toward the smoke where Queen slowly rose again.
Both men cracked cold smiles.
"Thick-skinned bastard... I may be injured and worn down, not at full power... But that lizard actually survived my full-force punch."
Bullet clicked his tongue in awe. Cracks spread across his stone arm before large chunks fell away, reducing it to normal size.
Five jagged stone fingers flexed—a prosthetic formed by the Clank-Clank Fruit, now grafted in place.
Darren glanced over, smirking:
"Functional? If not, I can whip up a metal one for you."
Bullet twitched, recalling their first encounter—and the pain. He scowled:
"Save that junk for yourself. I hate metal."
Clenching his new arm, feeling its strength, he muttered:
"Not perfect, but with Haki... it’ll do."
Darren chuckled and turned back to the smoke-shrouded Queen, expression sharpening.
"That guy’s a Zoan-type. Tough defense and insane recovery. Not easy to kill."
"Let’s finish him off and get out, Bullet."
Bullet paused, fists tightening with reluctance.
"Fine."
He was a man who repaid grudges. Queen may have helped push his strength further, but the torment—viruses, confinement—wasn’t so easily forgiven.
Still, this was Beasts Pirates HQ. Kaido or King could return at any moment. If they lingered, their escape would be blown.
"Retreat!?"
Queen’s raspy voice rang from the smoke.
THUD!
He stepped forward. The ground quaked.
His massive frame pushed out a blast of wind, scattering the smoke.
The upright brachiosaurus panted heavily, bloodshot eyes locked onto his subjects. He roared:
"You think you can escape from here?!"
His voice thundered across the island.
"You destroyed an arsenal, slaughtered our crew, turned our base into chaos... No matter what, I’ll crush you into pulp and kill you all!!"
In his hybrid form, Queen crouched low, limbs braced like a predator ready to pounce.
Click clack—
His massive, fanged jaws opened wide.
His mechanical arm split apart to reveal a dark barrel.
His segmented mechanical tail also swung out—barrel-tip revealed.
Mouth, arm, tail—all charged with suffocating yellow light.
The gathering energy radiated a destructive force that made everyone’s skin crawl.
"That move!!"
"He’s using the arm and tail cannons too!!"
"Those three are dead for sure!!"
"Only Kaido-sama can survive that attack from Queen the Plague!!"
...
The Beasts Pirates watching from afar erupted in cheers.
But none of them noticed that the Marine facing Queen wore a... peculiar expression.
Bullet’s lips twitched. He glanced at Darren—and silently took two steps back.
"Muhahaha!!"
"Vanish under the genius Queen’s firepower, fools!!"
"Escape?"
Queen laughed madly, arrogant to the end.
"Don’t be ridiculous!!!"
"I am—"
Three dark-yellow beams merged into one.
"‘Plague’ Quee—eh?!"
A faint blue spark zipped across the air.
Queen’s tail and arm barrels suddenly buckled, misaligned.
Queen: ???
His face froze. Smile stiffened.
BOOM!!!
Flames swallowed him whole—everything within a hundred meters engulfed.
A thunderous explosion shook the world, forming a massive fireball that pierced the sky!
Darren slowly lowered his finger, sheepishly scratching his head:
"Should I have let him finish his sentence?"
Bullet: "..."
Beasts Pirates: "..."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 200: Chapter 102: The Same Old Scene
Summary:
“The same trick may be played, but never twice on those who survive it.”
Chapter Text
A raging inferno engulfed the battlefield, erupting outward like a colossal fireball that swallowed the sky itself. It surged across the cracked, battered earth, the searing heat hissing against the ground and making it snap and sizzle.
Pirates who had dared raise their heads now collapsed in terror, pressing their faces to the scorched earth. The blaze painted their pale, frozen expressions in harsh relief, exposing every trembling breath, every wide-eyed moment of despair.
"AAAAHHHH!!"
Within the sea of flames, Queen’s massive form rolled wildly, his skin and armor ablaze. His agonized screams tore through the din, a chorus of raw pain that reverberated across the devastated base.
"Now’s my chance!!"
Bullet’s pupils dilated. Bloodlust ignited in his gaze—deep, red, murderous. Queen was vulnerable. If he struck now, he could end it. The humiliation, the torment, the poisonous agony forced on him—he would return it all tenfold.
He braced to leap, feet coiling for the strike.
But a firm hand seized his shoulder.
"No, Bullet. We’re done here. We need to go."
Bullet blinked, fury pausing for the briefest moment.
Beside him, Darren’s fingers sparked with arcs of electricity. In the silent rhythm of invisible magnetism, weapons and wreckage scattered across the blood-soaked ground flew skyward—rifles, swords, broken machinery—twisting, warping, melting in the air.
They fused.
Forged in midair, a sleek, silver vessel shaped like a streamlined ark hovered before them. Gleaming under the flickering firelight, it looked like a chariot crafted from battle itself.
Darren threw the unconscious Señor onto the craft and stepped forward—
Until a roar cracked the sky.
"DARREN!! BULLET!! YOU CURSED FOOLS—HOW DARE YOU!!"
The voice was thunder and storm, raw wrath made sound. Lightning streaked across the heavens. Wind howled like a beast uncaged.
Bullet stiffened.
That voice.
Kaido.
He was back.
Far above, the clouds churned. From their depths, a colossal silhouette writhed through the heavens.
Wreathed in wind and lightning, its every movement tore the skies asunder. The air bent around it. The world itself seemed to recoil.
"That’s... a dragon!"
"Kaido-sama!! It’s him!!"
"We’re saved!! They’re finished now!!"
Excitement flared like wildfire in the eyes of the watching Beasts Pirates. Despair flipped to euphoria in an instant. They shouted, screamed, voices overlapping.
Suddenly—
A slicing shriek tore through the air. A screech like a blade cleaving the sky.
"Kaifu!!"
Dark green wind blades ripped through the cloud cover—dozens, then hundreds—sweeping down like death itself.
Darren’s gaze sharpened. Without hesitation, he raised a single arm.
Metal answered his call, coalescing into a domed shield before him and Bullet. Haki surged across its surface, turning steel black with armored will.
This was Kaido’s attack—no ordinary wind. It cut like wrath incarnate.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Blade after blade rained down, slicing deep gashes into the shield, peeling away metal like bark from a tree.
CRACKLE! SNAP!
The last gust struck—and the shield shattered.
Through the falling shards, the dragon’s titanic head emerged. It broke through the cloud bank like a mountain falling from heaven.
Kaido saw his base in ruin, his men fallen, the bodies scattered across scorched earth.
His golden slit pupils flooded with bloodshot rage.
"UNFORGIVABLE!!"
The dragon’s roar shook the skies.
He inhaled.
His body swelled.
From the depths of his throat, a fireball formed—massive, molten, terrifying.
"Damn it—it’s that move again!"
Bullet’s eyes narrowed. He remembered the chaos. The trap. The pain.
Kaido had used this very breath to subdue them once before.
But not this time.
Bullet’s lip curled into a sneer. His arm surged with Haki, cloaking in a sheen of lethal black.
"That won’t work again. Not on us."
"Bullet. Kaido’s mine. Watch our rear."
The calm voice belonged to Darren.
Bullet growled, instinct clashing with pride.
He didn’t like taking orders. Not from anyone.
But his body moved.
His gaze scanned the skies. A black blur streaked through the smoke.
Wings of flame cut the air.
King.
The Wildfire.
He dove like a predator, aiming not at them, but behind—
The ark.
Front and rear. A coordinated strike.
"DAMN YOU, DARREN! I’M NOT YOUR DAMN UNDERLING!!"
Bullet cursed—but his body obeyed.
He stomped forward.
Earth and steel surged up to greet him. His body was swallowed in stone, in metal, in power.
He rose.
A ten-meter colossus.
"Merge!!"
The giant raised its arm. A single swing—aimed at the diving Pteranodon.
Air screamed. Shockwaves bloomed.
Behind him—
Click.
A coin flicked into the air.
Darren stood tall, hair tousled in the gale. His finger aimed.
The coin spun—glowing blue.
Aimed straight for Kaido’s flaming maw.
The world stilled.
Two warriors. Back to back.
Two titans. Facing death head-on.
And then—
BOOM!!
Scarlet flame erupted from Kaido’s jaws.
A blue cannon roared from Darren’s finger.
King launched golden laser beams.
The giant hurled its fist like a falling meteor.
All met in the sky.
"Heat Breath!!"
"Magnetic Overload — Railgun!!"
"Barizodon!!"
"Medium Bullet — Super Heavy Cannon!!"
A heartbeat of silence.
Then—
BOOM!!
BOOM!!
Explosions rocked the heavens.
Shockwaves blasted in all directions.
The Beasts Pirates were thrown—blinded by white light, ears shattered by sound.
The earth screamed.
The island cracked. Chasms yawned open. The sea rose—towering waves surged toward the land.
As if the world had shattered.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 201: Chapter 103: Combination Technique
Summary:
“When monsters clash, the world trembles—not because of who they are, but because of what they’re willing to break.”
Chapter Text
Waves of compressed air surged and collapsed, expanded and recoiled—again and again.
Red-hot Heat Breath, blue electromagnetic blasts, golden laser beams, and the pitch-black fist of a titan collided mid-air.
Each force crashed into the others like wild beasts in the sky, spiraling into violent storms. Flames spilled downward, crashing onto the cracked and shattered earth.
A deafening roar followed as the explosion’s shockwave expanded, sweeping across the sky.
The titan that Bullet had become cracked—webs of fractures creeping over its surface before the whole structure disintegrated with a blast.
Bullet was flung out, hurtling like a cannonball into the ground. He slammed down hard, carving out a crater. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
King’s Pteranodon form was thrown back, engulfed in flames. His body smashed into the distant mountain wall, exploding into dust and debris that reached dozens of meters high.
Darren staggered back two steps, his face pale.
Then Kaido’s voice boomed from above—a growl of thunder incarnate:
"You two..."
Darren and Bullet looked up, eyes narrowing.
The colossal shadow in the clouds was gone—only thick smoke and drifting fire remained.
Then—
Like a meteor crashing through the sky, a monstrous figure burst through the flames and smoke, diving straight at them with terrifying speed!
Kaido had transformed into his dragon-man hybrid form. His bulging, green-scaled arms gripped a massive spiked kanabō. His black hair whipped like wildfire in the wind. His eyes burned blood-red.
"—YOU’RE DEAD!!"
Black and crimson lightning erupted from his body, dazzling and deadly, wrapping around the kanabō like writhing serpents.
The full force of his Conqueror’s Haki flooded the battlefield like a tsunami.
The Haki clung to his weapon—infused, pressurized, devastating.
The air itself seemed to collapse under the weight.
Yet Darren’s eyes flared with defiance and wild intensity. He grinned savagely.
"Bullet! NOW!!"
"I TOLD YOU—STOP ORDERING ME AROUND!!"
Bullet roared, but the killing intent surged again in his eyes.
No need for signals. No need for words.
They moved in unison.
The ground beneath them collapsed half a meter from the force of their leap. Like twin cannonballs, they launched upward toward Kaido.
"ARMAMENT!!"
They shouted as one.
Black, cold, steel-like Haki wrapped tightly around their arms.
Madness, bloodlust, and unshakable will blazed in their eyes.
The past seven days of agony—the brink of death under Queen’s viral torture, endless battles with their breaking bodies...
All of it boiled over in this moment.
They had to know—had to feel—just how far they still were from a monster like Kaido.
From below, they struck.
One punch each. In perfect sync.
"Three World’s Conquest: Ragnaraku!!"
"Combination Technique: Nation Shatter!!"
BOOM!!
Kaido’s lightning-wrapped kanabō and the Haki-cloaked fists of Darren and Bullet collided in the sky.
It was like a comet striking a planet.
Black and red lightning tore the heavens, distorting the very air, warping and twisting reality itself.
The ground shook violently. The prison and buildings below collapsed into the spreading fissures.
From the distant mountain wall, King—now back in his human form—crawled out of the shattered rock.
His black mask hid most of his expression, but his eyes... they trembled.
A bead of sweat slid down his brow.
"They... they blocked Kaido-sama’s full power... together?!"
Elsewhere, Queen, half-charred, missing chunks of his arms and tail, stood dumbfounded.
Eyes bulging, tongue lolling, jaw hanging open.
"No way..."
Mid-air, Kaido’s aura and the joint pressure from Darren and Bullet clashed violently.
Two cyclones—one of dark crimson, the other of obsidian black—twisted against each other.
Kaido gritted his teeth and pushed harder, trying to smash down his kanabō.
But then—
His eyes flickered.
He froze.
How had these two grown this strong in just a few days?
It didn’t make sense.
He’d locked them away. Queen had been in charge...
Queen.
Kaido’s eyes narrowed to bloody slits. He turned.
"QUEEN, YOU IDIOT!! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"
Queen looked utterly lost.
"What did I do?! I just... cut some corners, sang a little, danced a bit, slept around... but I DID TORTURE THEM with the virus! On schedule! I swear!"
Kaido nearly coughed up blood.
Then—
The clash reached its peak.
With a thunderous explosion, a shockwave blasted from the center.
Kaido was hurled backward.
Darren and Bullet spat blood, crashing into the earth.
Dust and smoke rose in waves, cloaking the battlefield in haze.
Kaido skidded back across the ground, carving trenches in the earth. He came to a stop, panting, still gripping his kanabō.
Suddenly—
A flicker of blue lightning danced across the air.
Kaido froze.
He turned.
"No..."
From the distant direction of the weapons factories, sparks began crawling across the surfaces of towering black smokestacks.
Then—
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
One after another, the towers twisted and warped like licorice sticks.
They crumbled.
The heat trapped below exploded.
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
A chain of massive detonations rocked the earth.
Kaido roared in fury.
The entire weapons complex—built with countless resources, the very core of the Beasts Pirates’ war power—was going up in flames.
Giant fireballs erupted skyward. Explosions triggered secondary detonations—munitions, powder stores, furnaces.
Flames shot into the heavens like volcanic eruptions.
The island had become a living hell.
Scarlet fire painted the sky.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 202: Chapter 104: Kaido… Hand Over Darren
Summary:
"When the heart of an empire burns, what remains is not ash—but vengeance."
Chapter Text
The whole world seemed to dissolve into a silent film in that moment.
The dark red glow of fire lit up faces that were deathly pale and stricken with fear.
Every member of the Beasts Pirates stood aghast, eyes wide with shock, as they watched the distant military factories crumble one by one. Jets of molten steel and lava burst forth from the explosions, unleashing waves of horror that crashed against their hearts.
“It’s over…”
“Our resources…”
“All destroyed…”
“This… How could this be…”
“Our military factories…”
“…”
An unprecedented terror seized their minds. The pirates stood frozen in the smoke-laden wind like soulless statues, utterly motionless.
Some even collapsed to their knees, trembling uncontrollably.
“Damn it!! How could this happen…”
King smashed his fist into the mountainside with a loud thud, punching a deep crater into the rock. His pupils, constricted to pinpricks, quivered with disbelief.
What was the core of the Beasts Pirates?
Besides Kaido, King, and Queen—the three pillars—their most vital asset was the vast arms production line built upon this island.
Unlike Big Mom’s crew, whose strength came from blood ties and political marriages, the Beasts Pirates expanded through military might and resources.
It would be no exaggeration to say that the ten military factories on this island were the very lifeblood of their crew.
And now… everything that mattered most had been reduced to ashes in the blink of an eye.
Years of painstaking effort and accumulation—
Gone, completely obliterated.
“We’re finished… Boss Kaido’s definitely going to twist my head off…”
From afar, Queen’s face turned a ghastly white. The fat on his cheeks quivered as he clutched his head in panic.
At the center of the battlefield, Kaido stood in place, stunned. His bloodshot, vertical pupils reflected the collapse of the factory complex. Thick, bulging veins began to crawl across his forehead.
“AAAAAAHHHH!!!”
Suddenly, he threw back his head and roared to the sky. Countless streaks of black and red lightning erupted from his body, engulfing the entire island in an instant.
An unprecedented, explosive rage surged forth like boiling magma. The pressure exuding from this legendary creature drained the color from every face.
“Darren… Bullet… You damned bastards!!”
Kaido finally snapped out of his shock. Gripping his spiked club tightly, he whipped his head around, searching for the two madmen.
But as he turned—
They were gone.
Even the small silver vessel they had arrived in had vanished without a trace.
Kaido immediately unleashed his Observation Haki. In the smoke-filled sky far away, he finally sensed them.
High above, aboard the rapidly moving vessel, Darren and Bullet both had blood trailing from the corners of their mouths. From afar, they cast mocking, cold smiles in his direction.
“Farewell, Kaido. Thanks for the hospitality.”
Gasping slightly, the wounded Darren curled his lips into a wild, defiant grin.
“If you hadn’t brought me back, I really wouldn’t have been able to destroy your Beasts Pirates’ headquarters…”
“Oh, right.”
He turned his gaze toward Queen, his smile twisting with ridicule as he said something that left Queen completely baffled:
“Appreciate the care, suspenders fatty.”
As his voice faded, before Kaido and the others could react, blue electric arcs began to dance along Darren’s fingertips.
In a flash—
The nearly boiling magnetic field erupted into a frenzy, hurling the metallic vessel forward at a ferocious acceleration. It shattered the sound barrier and vanished into the distant sky.
Seeing this, Kaido’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets. He ground his teeth so hard it echoed.
He brought his club crashing down into the earth, splitting it with a deafening crack. A thunderous roar echoed across the heavens.
“No matter where you run!! One day I’ll kill you both!! Darren!! Bullet!!”
He didn’t bother to transform into his dragon form to give chase.
Though his dragon form granted him flight, it couldn’t match the speed of Darren’s sound-breaking magnetic propulsion.
Even as a dragon, he couldn’t catch up to those two.
And Kaido knew—what mattered most now was to act fast, and salvage whatever he could of the military production line.
“Brother Kaido…”
A dark shadow plummeted from the sky and landed beside him with a steady thud.
Black wings slowly folded back. King stood tall, his face grim.
“Although a secondary explosion was triggered, if we act quickly, we might be able to salvage part of the production line.”
Kaido took a deep breath and nodded.
He turned his gaze toward Queen, who was creeping up nervously, and growled viciously:
“Queen. What the hell happened?”
“I told you to keep a close eye on those two! They were shackled with Seastone cuffs—how the hell did they escape!?”
Steam burst from Kaido’s nostrils as his fury surged. The menace in his tone made Queen tremble uncontrollably.
“Boss Kaido… I… I didn’t do anything…”
Queen looked like he was on the verge of tears, not daring to meet Kaido’s eyes.
“I used all the latest viruses to torment them… they were in agony… but somehow, someone snuck into our base, caused the explosion, and stole the key to the cuffs…”
Kaido narrowed his eyes.
But at that moment—
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
A deep rumbling of cannon fire suddenly erupted from the distant port. Explosions flared one after another, lighting the sky with flames.
“What’s happening!?”
Kaido and King’s expressions sharpened instantly.
“R-Report… Boss Kaido… it’s the Marines…”
A pirate burst through the smoke in terror, stumbling forward as he shouted in a trembling voice:
“The Marines are here!!”
The Marines!?
Beneath the black mask, King’s pupils shrank.
How did the Marines find this island!?
Do we have a traitor in our ranks!?
Who’s leading the attack!?
A whirlwind of thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant.
The fierce wind swept away the thick smoke, and the scene at the port became clear.
A battleship, its cannons blazing wildly, surged forward through the waves with unstoppable force, charging straight for their base.
Every gun on its hull spat flame, bombarding the Beasts Pirates stationed at the port into utter chaos.
At the ship’s bow stood a tall, broad-shouldered figure with short purple hair, arms crossed. Behind his dark sunglasses, his piercing gaze locked firmly onto them.
The massive, pure-white cloak of justice flared wildly in the storm winds behind him.
A deep, razor-sharp roar rang out from afar:
“Kaido!! Hand over my student—Darren!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 203: Chapter 105: Who the Hell Do You Think I Am?
Summary:
“When a throne is built on fear and fire, only pride stands tall when the world begins to burn.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Kaido, hand over my student—Darren!"
A powerful, commanding voice thundered from the battleship across the sea, laced with an overwhelming sense of force and authority.
As the words echoed, the members of the Beasts Pirates turned pale. When they caught sight of the towering figure, cries of horror escaped their lips.
"It’s Zephyr!! The former Marine Admiral... Black Arm Zephyr!!"
"A legendary Marine!!"
"Wasn’t he already retired!? Why is he out at sea again!?"
"...We're done for. This is the end..."
Zephyr—former Admiral of Marine Headquarters, one of the highest military powers of the World Government.
Renowned for his immense Armament Haki, the world called him "Black Arm."
A seasoned warrior of countless battles and glorious achievements, he had once been a nightmare for pirates across the seas.
That short, purple-haired back was a banner that countless young Marines had once sworn to follow into battle.
"Hand over... Darren?"
Upon hearing Zephyr's words, Kaido's eyes instantly surged with bloodshot fury.
He glanced at the unstoppable battleship, then at the collapsing military factories behind him, explosions still flaring in the distance. Finally, he swept his gaze across the scorched, corpse-strewn island that was once his base.
His bulging, bloodshot eyes looked like they could burst into flames.
He gritted his teeth furiously, chest heaving, black and red lightning crackling wildly across his kanabo.
"Worororo!!"
Kaido suddenly burst into wild, manic laughter. His whole body trembled, and tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.
"Interesting! Truly interesting!"
"You're actually asking me to hand over that little brat!?"
The painstakingly built arms production line—gone.
His crew—slaughtered and shattered.
The two brats responsible for it all had mocked him and escaped right under his nose...
And now the Marines had come knocking on his door, asking for them!?
"Worororo... This is killing me!!"
Kaido couldn’t stop himself. Laughter racked his body, the world around him suddenly absurd.
Seeing this, Queen instinctively shrank back, trembling, and took a step away.
"It’s over... boss Kaido’s about to blow..."
He knew boss Kaido’s temper. That look—he was ready to explode.
Beside them, King the Wildfire said solemnly:
"Brother Kaido, now’s not the time to fight the Marines."
Kaido’s face twisted. He gritted his teeth hard.
He took a deep breath, forcing his mind to calm, then roared toward the port:
"Zephyr! Your student already escaped!"
Onboard the battleship, Zephyr froze, then shouted back, furious:
"Impossible!! Kaido, do you take me for a fool!? You expect me to believe that so easily!?"
"Darren is a Devil Fruit user! You must’ve put Seastone cuffs on him—there’s no way he could have escaped your heavily fortified base!!"
"Are you telling me Darren, shackled with Seastone, broke free from your prison and fled through your ranks!?"
"Is the Beasts Pirates really that useless!?"
"Don’t make me laugh!!"
Zephyr didn’t believe a word. He thought Kaido was lying to stall.
But what he couldn’t see was that, with each sentence, Kaido’s face darkened further—until it was pitch black.
"Zephyr, you goddamn bastard!!"
Kaido roared at last, unable to contain his seething fury.
Next to him, Queen panicked, grabbing his arm, shouting:
"Boss Kaido, don’t lose it! That’s the former Marine Admiral Black Arm Zephyr... Darren’s damn teacher!!"
Darren’s strength had exploded in just a few days. Together with Bullet, they had even withstood boss Kaido’s full-power blow.
If Zephyr had trained him... just how strong was this legendary Marine really!?
Queen shuddered at the thought, cold sweat pouring down his round face.
"Let’s retreat for now. With how long we’ve delayed, the arms production line’s probably unsalvageable anyway."
He pleaded, drenched in sweat.
But Kaido seized him by his suspenders, yanked him up to his face.
Those blood-red vertical pupils locked on him, blazing with rage.
"Who the hell do you think I am!?"
"Just a former Marine Admiral!?"
"Follow me—we’re heading for that battleship!!"
Kaido was ablaze with fury, unstoppable.
It was bad enough that Darren had destroyed their base and escaped.
And now the Marines demanded he hand someone over!?
How dare they!?
Just a former Admiral. He could take one down by himself.
Besides—he had King.
They could fight!
But just as Kaido finished speaking—
Boom!!
A deafening cannon blast erupted from the opposite shore.
"Kaido!! Hand over Marine Headquarters Commodore Darren!! And I’ll spare your life!!"
King and Queen’s pupils contracted sharply. They turned.
In the distance, another Marine battleship tore through the waves.
At its bow stood a man with a black afro and black-rimmed glasses, shouting in a firm voice.
Behind him stood a tall, disturbingly lanky figure, stroking his stubbled chin with a smile.
"A-A Marine Admiral..."
"Sengoku the Buddha!!"
"One of the World Government’s top powers!!"
"He came too!?"
"And that’s the Marine ‘monster’... Borsalino!!!"
"Damn it!!"
"Two Admiral-class forces!!"
The pirates gasped in horror, reeling in disbelief.
Sengoku’s arrival made Kaido’s heart skip a beat.
One Zephyr was bad enough. If Sengoku joined him... a sense of impending disaster crept into Kaido’s heart.
"B-Boss Kaido... are we... still going forward?"
Queen trembled, his face pale, voice low.
Kaido froze, glanced around at his subordinates who had gathered, recalling his earlier bold words. His face contorted.
He gritted his molars nearly to pieces.
"Bullshit!! Who the hell do you think I am!?"
"Darren wrecked our base. His teacher Zephyr came demanding him. Even Sengoku showed up to watch the show... Then let’s fight!!"
"Just two Marine Admirals!"
"King! You handle Zephyr!"
King’s lips twitched slightly, but he said nothing, resting his hand quietly on the hilt at his waist.
Kaido gripped his kanabo tight, eyes locked on Sengoku, voice a cold murmur:
"Two Admirals... still manageable—"
BOOM!!
A massive shell fell from the sky, erupting in a tower of fire not far from them.
"Bwahahahaha!! Kaido!! Hand over my adjutant!!"
"Or I’ll gut this little lizard of yours and roast him over open flame!!"
A hearty, wild voice suddenly rang out across the waves.
And the moment Kaido heard it—his face changed drastically.
His heart pounded like thunder.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
"Poor Kaido" (。╯︵╰。)
Chapter 204: Chapter 106: You Guys Are Ganging Up on Me!?
Summary:
“When memory and fury collide, even gods bleed to guard their legacy.”
Chapter Text
That voice—
Kaido’s pupils shrank to pinpoints. His heart pounded furiously as a drop of cold sweat slid down his forehead.
Beside him, both King and Queen fell utterly silent. A bone-deep chill surged from the soles of their feet, crept up their spines, and stabbed straight into their skulls.
The gale tore through the smoke, and through the flickering flames, they finally saw the distant sea clearly.
To the left, a mid-sized battleship had already rammed into the port.
Zephyr was leading the charge, spearheading a battalion of Marines ashore, his momentum unstoppable.
To the right, the battleship carrying Sengoku the Buddha and Borsalino was rapidly circling in a flanking maneuver, bombarding Kaido’s position relentlessly.
And in the center—was a uniquely designed dog-headed battleship!
Atop the decorative doghead, a deep-auraed figure stood, wearing a doghead cap, arms spinning like windmills as he hurled shell after shell toward the island, laughing heartily.
The relentless explosions blew apart who knew how many pirates that hadn’t managed to flee.
“It’s Garp!!”
“The legendary Marine!!”
“The Strongest Marine!!”
“The Hero of the Marines—Garp!!”
“He’s here too!?”
“How is this even possible!?”
The Beasts Pirates turned deathly pale, clutching their heads, howling in despair.
Shells fell thick and fast, erupting into blazing infernos that swept across the ground.
Kaido’s expression turned pitch black. Rage thundered in his chest.
What the hell is this!? Darren’s just a damn Commodore!!
Why the hell are these three monsters here to rescue him!?
Who the hell is Darren, really...?
A Celestial Dragon!? Even those pigs wouldn’t get this kind of treatment!
Kaido clenched his jaw, eyes bloodshot, fury simmering inside him.
Sengoku and Zephyr were powerful, sure—but not terrifying.
But Garp...
Images surged in his mind—memories from the God Valley incident. Back then, a rookie in the Rocks Pirates, Kaido had watched with his own eyes as their demon of a captain was overwhelmed by a blood-soaked Vice Admiral with a doghead cap—Garp—and how he turned the tide of battle into a bloodstorm.
The shadow of those memories made Kaido’s palms sweat against his kanabo.
“Bwahahahaha!! Darren, my boy, where are you!? Gramps is here to pick you up!!”
From atop the doghead battleship, Garp laughed as he looked around. Not seeing Darren, he scowled at Kaido:
“Kaido! Hand over Darren! He’s my adjutant!!”
On the other two battleships, Zephyr and Sengoku paused and turned in unison to snap:
“No!! Darren is my adjutant!!”
Garp laughed even louder:
“Is that so? Then let’s make a bet.”
“Whoever rescues Darren first—he’s their adjutant!”
“—Who the hell would bet with you!?”
Zephyr and Sengoku shouted in unison, red in the face.
...
“Wait… did I hear that right? Three legendary Marines… fighting over who gets Darren as their adjutant…”
Queen’s jowls quivered. He looked utterly dumbfounded.
Then his eyes lit up as he mumbled:
“Boss Kaido’s poked the Marine hornet’s nest this time… Darren’s off-limits…”
“So this isn’t my fault. Boss caught the wrong guy. If anyone’s to blame—it’s him—”
WHAM!!
A massive kanabo slammed down, burying Queen’s head in the earth. Only his suspenders and twitching legs stuck out.
“Shut up!!”
Kaido stood above him, panting heavily, eyes blazing red.
King spoke grimly:
“Brother Kaido... what now? That’s Garp—from God Valley...”
“—That was then!!”
Kaido snapped, cutting him off.
He glanced at the sea, then at his trembling subordinates. He clenched his teeth.
“I’m not that brat from back then anymore!!”
With a burst from his scaled legs—
BOOM!!
The ground cracked in a hundred-meter radius. Kaido launched skyward like a cannonball.
“Worororo!! Come, Garp!! We never finished our fight back then!!”
His eyes burned red, power surging like a storm. Black-red lightning burst from his body, wrapping around his kanabo.
He shot across hundreds of meters in a blink.
Gripping the kanabo with both hands, thunder arcing off it—he swung at Garp!
“Bwahaha!! Back then, you were just a shivering brat!!”
Garp’s eyes lit up. Leaping from the deck, his massive fist was sheathed in crackling black lightning.
One punch—like the sea itself collapsing.
“Thunder Bellow Bagua!”
“Deep Sea Drop!!”
BOOM!!
Kanabo and fist collided mid-air.
Time froze.
Lightning swallowed the skies. Black-red Conqueror’s Haki compressed into a destructive sphere. The shockwave storm exploded from the two of them.
Winds tore through everything—buildings, trees, pirates—obliterated.
King drew his blade, stabbing it into the ground to anchor himself.
Queen clawed his way from the crater, clinging to a boulder as hell unfolded around him.
Color vanished from the world. Only endless lightning—and two god-like figures remained.
The storm shattered clouds, tearing trenches into the sky.
“They’re not even touching... just clashing Conqueror’s Haki...”
Queen trembled:
“Someone... is going toe-to-toe with boss Kaido...?”
“...Eh?”
Before he could finish—
BOOM!!
The energy sphere exploded.
Kaido’s body slammed into the ground like a meteor, kicking up a dragon’s roar of dust.
The island cracked. The sea surged inward. The land rippled.
“Bwahaha!! Not bad! But you still lack guts!!”
Garp landed steadily on the battleship, picking his nose and laughing.
“Damn it…”
Kaido staggered up from the crater, blood trailing from his lips.
He was hurt.
But before he could catch his breath—
Two auras crashed through the smoke.
“Kaido! Hand over Darren!!”
“Hand over my adjutant!!”
Kaido’s pupils shrank.
Two white cloaks surged into his vision.
“Black Arm—Shatter Impact!”
“Great Buddha—Smash!”
Zephyr’s fist turned to black steel. Sengoku transformed into a towering golden Buddha.
They struck.
“You Marines... You’re ganging up on me—”
BOOM! BOOM!
Two heavy impacts exploded.
Golden fist hit Kaido’s gut—he curled like a shrimp.
Black Arm’s blow smashed his face—rippling it grotesquely.
BOOM!!
Their Haki detonated behind him in white shockwaves.
“Shhhh—!”
Queen winced, twitching.
Next moment—
Kaido coughed blood. He flew like a broken kite, slamming into the island, dust billowing a hundred meters high.
“Did we get him?”
Sengoku and Zephyr landed, staring into the smoke.
They sensed something—faces changing.
A massive black shadow pierced the smoke, roaring.
A dragon!!
Kaido, now in dragon form, bloodied and furious:
“Marines!! One day—I will repay this humiliation!!”
With that, he soared skyward, storm in his wake.
Queen and dozens of elite pirates clung to him desperately.
“He’s trying to flee!” Zephyr’s eyes narrowed.
“Borsalino!!” Sengoku shouted.
A slow, lazy voice answered from afar:
“Got it… You say you want a new adjutant, and still order me around… how heartless, hmm?”
Sengoku’s face darkened.
Brilliant golden light rose into the sky, forming a towering figure.
With Marine cloak fluttering, Borsalino smirked at the fleeing Kaido and raised his arms.
“Yasakani no Magatama!”
A flood of golden beams burst forth, scorching the sky like a storm of divine arrows.
“Think again!”
A deep growl boomed.
A black shadow streaked through the air, its wings burning crimson.
Wreathed in flame, a massive blade cleaved forward.
“Fire Dragon Emperor!”
ROAR!!
A colossal fire dragon burst forth, jaws wide, crashing into the golden barrage.
BOOM!!
Explosions lit the sky. Flame wings licked the clouds.
Borsalino landed, sunglasses reflecting the fleeing King.
“Haven’t seen that one before…”
He glanced at Sengoku:
“Admiral Sengoku. Shall I pursue?”
Sengoku stared at the vanishing dragon, then shook his head.
“No. Alone, I fear something unexpected.”
“Besides…”
He turned to Zephyr approaching quickly, and said:
“Darren’s not on this island.”
Zephyr met his gaze, checked with Observation Haki—nothing. He nodded.
He exhaled, baffled:
“That brat… really escaped from Kaido...”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 205: Chapter 107: Kaido’s Plan
Summary:
“When all paths collapse, only madness dares to call itself a plan.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Upon hearing those words, even Sengoku’s expression turned a little complicated.
He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the right words. A wry smile crept onto his face, the corner of his lips twitching slightly.
So what was this, really?
The Marine Headquarters had mobilized three top-tier Admiral-class powers to rescue one man... and in the end, before they even arrived, Darren had already escaped from Kaido on his own!?
You’re making us look stupid, you know!?
“Bwahahaha!! As expected of my adjutant!”
At that moment, Garp walked over while picking his nose, puffing out his chest, radiating pride.
Sengoku and Zephyr both rolled their eyes in unison.
They were too tired to argue with this buffoon anymore.
“But even though we didn’t retrieve him, this operation wasn’t without gain…”
Sengoku shook his head and looked around at the scorched earth before him, the corpses of countless pirates, and in the distance—the collapsed, burning arms factories that had once fueled a war machine.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“We’ve utterly destroyed the Beasts Pirates’ base. Ten massive arms production lines—gone. At the very least, Kaido won’t be recovering anytime soon.”
Although they hadn’t captured Kaido in the skirmish, Sengoku wasn’t too disappointed.
As an Admiral of Marine Headquarters, he knew better than anyone that Kaido wasn’t someone easily subdued.
Despite the three of them teaming up to beat him bloody, Kaido’s monstrous body and the recovery of his Zoan powers meant he’d likely be back on his feet soon.
Zephyr nodded.
“But on that note—where did Darren go?”
“And according to the intel Sakazuki provided, Kaido had captured both him and Douglas Bullet alive. But we didn’t find Bullet either.”
“Most importantly—how did they even escape?”
The others looked mildly stunned at Zephyr’s words.
“Continue the search. Focus on this island and the nearby Islands. Even if Darren escaped, his condition can’t be good. He likely didn’t get far.”
Sengoku exhaled slowly, eyes flashing with insight behind his black-rimmed glasses. He said firmly:
“Also keep an eye out for Douglas Bullet. If found—capture immediately.”
——
Across a remote island, jagged mountain ridges loomed like the spines of some great gray-black dragon.
Sky-piercing ancient trees enveloped the earth. Within the thick forest, creatures slumbered peacefully—
Until a terrifying aura swept through.
As if sensing a top-tier predator, every animal and insect froze, then dropped flat to the ground, trembling.
Rumbles echoed overhead. Thunder rolled from the heavens.
A black shadow darkened the skies.
The legendary dragon pierced the clouds, diving from the heavens and crashing into the forest’s heart—whipping up a tempest, bowing mighty trees.
Mountains trembled.
As dust and smoke cleared—
“Damn Marines!!”
Kaido, blood at the corners of his mouth, slammed his kanabo into the earth, smashing a crater, panting with rage.
His eyes were bloodshot, filled with seething fury.
“Unforgivable!! They interfered in my fight with Garp!!”
It had been an even match, but those self-righteous Marines had shamelessly ganged up on him!
Even pirates had some sense of honor!
Kaido despised interference when fighting a worthy opponent. He wanted a fair and direct clash of strength.
“Shameless bastards!!”
He spat blood on the ground, chest heaving.
The few dozen surviving members of the Beasts Pirates stood still as statues, silent, shrunken, terrified of the murderous aura pouring from their captain.
Then, a grumble broke the silence.
“No way the other two would’ve just stood by and watched…”
“Hm?”
Kaido turned his bloody, furious gaze on Queen, who was tinkering with the tail machinery on his back.
“What did you just say?” he growled.
Queen jolted and immediately laughed awkwardly.
“Boss Kaido, I said the Marines are just too shameless!!”
He stood upright, feigning indignation, waving his fists.
“Unlike you, boss—”
WHAM!
The kanabo smashed into Queen’s pudgy face, launching him into the trunk of a massive tree, scattering birds into the sky.
King covered his face, wincing.
That idiot Queen!
Cursing inwardly, King lifted his gaze and sighed deeply.
“Brother Kaido… the coordinates of our island are exposed. I don’t think we can return.”
He looked around at the remaining pirates. Every one of them bore the ashen look of defeat. Their morale was gone.
King’s expression darkened. His heart sank.
The massive Beasts Pirates, built over years, reduced to this handful.
And their headquarters, their vast arms network—obliterated.
It was the greatest defeat the Beasts Pirates had ever known.
“What do we do now?”
Hearing that, Kaido took a deep breath, forcing down his rage.
The New World was vast—so vast that not even the Marines or the World Government could chart it all.
But it was also small.
Only a few islands had real value—most were barren, undeveloped, useless.
The prosperous ones? They belonged to either the World Government... or powers like Whitebeard and Shiki.
Even Big Mom had carved out her own domain through political marriages.
The useful lands were limited. Some had more, meaning others had less.
To gain territory—there was only war.
But in their current state, the Beasts Pirates couldn’t afford war.
And Kaido knew better than to think he could challenge Whitebeard or Shiki.
He had been a mere apprentice on the Rocks Pirates. He knew firsthand how terrifying they were.
So… was there nowhere left?
“No.”
A bloody grin spread across Kaido’s lips.
“We go there.”
He raised his kanabo.
The spiked weapon pointed toward a shadow shrouded in sea mist.
An island—steep, towering hundreds of meters above sea level.
“That fool Orochi said that samurai left to chase his so-called dreams, right?”
Kaido grinned madly.
King nodded.
“Yes, Brother Kaido.”
He turned to look at the distant, enclosed land.
It was a fine place.
Its mineral resources were worth ten times what their old base had.
It was also the world’s only known producer of Seastone.
Its terrain—easily defensible.
And most importantly—
According to the latest intel, the one samurai who had made them wary...
Had left in search of his "dream."
That country was called—
Wano.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
In previous chapters, you might have seen terms like weapons factory or military factory used interchangeably. After re-evaluating the context and thematic tone, I’ve settled on arms factory as the most appropriate term moving forward. It best captures the militarized nature and narrative precision of the Beasts Pirates' industrial base.
Thanks for your understanding as the terminology continues to be refined for clarity and fidelity.
Chapter 206: Chapter 108: We Could Have Been Friends
Summary:
"Even among enemies, a shared silence can echo deeper than war."
Chapter Text
At the same time—
A deserted island.
A streak of silver tore through the clouds at a terrifying speed, plummeting from the sky into the earth below.
BOOM!!
A deep tremor shook the island’s center.
A great cloud of dust exploded at the impact site, spreading in brownish ripples across the ground, engulfing the surrounding trees.
The cool sea breeze soon blew away the haze.
Through the toppled forest, a massive crater came into view.
A small metallic ark was half-buried in the earth, its hull twisted beyond recognition.
“You bastard… Ever heard of flying slow for once?”
Bullet rubbed his head as he walked out of the dust cloud, neck cracking audibly as he moved, visibly irritated.
“Not leaving you behind to die was already kind. Try being less picky with your savior.”
Darren, panting, climbed out of the crater, carrying Senor over his shoulder.
As he spoke, he gently laid the blood-soaked Senor down against a tree trunk, careful not to jostle his wounds.
“Where... am I?”
Senor groggily opened his eyes, parched lips barely forming the words.
“We made it out.”
Darren slumped down beside him, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and gave him a crooked smile.
“I checked your injuries.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll live.”
He drew out a cigarette and handed it over.
“I told you—we’d smoke one together once you made it.”
Senor stared at him for a moment, then accepted the cigarette without a word.
“Oi, got one for me too?”
Bullet called from a short distance away.
Darren lit Senor’s and his own, then tossed one to Bullet without looking.
“Snagged it off some pirate’s corpse when we broke out.”
Bullet bit down on the cigarette, scoffing:
“You’re starting to act more and more like a pirate.”
Fwoosh...
The three sat in silence, smoke curling upwards.
They tilted their heads back, staring at the broken canopy above—blue skies, white clouds drifting.
Warm sunlight fell upon their faces. A sea breeze blew gently, as if it could wash away all pain and fatigue.
Their eyes drifted closed, savoring the rare calm after war.
“Oi, Darren… Think Kaido’s losing his mind about now?”
Bullet exhaled a long stream of smoke, glancing sidelong at Darren with a grin.
“We turned his stronghold inside out. Every arms factory, blown to hell.”
Darren shrugged, letting a smoke ring rise lazily.
“Who knows?”
“But still... I didn’t expect us to sync so well.”
That "Combination Technique: Nation Shatter"—their joint move—was something they’d cobbled together during practice in prison.
It was inspired by Bullet’s bloodlust that once razed a nation, and Darren’s conceptual grasp of the Giants’ move: Hakoku.
By unleashing immense Armament Haki simultaneously and combining their superhuman strength, they’d managed to stop Kaido’s full-power strike, infused with Conqueror’s Haki.
Though Kaido hadn’t reached his future peak in this era, it was still a feat worth boasting.
Their coordination had been brief and imperfect. Even so, "Nation Shatter" had potential.
Darren speculated that once perfected, it might rival even Kaido and Big Mom’s "Ocean Sovereignty."
The name wasn’t metaphorical—done right, it could tear a nation apart in one strike.
“Kahahaha!! Who would’ve thought—two sworn enemies crafting a move together!?”
Bullet laughed heartily, golden hair billowing, bloodied face wild and unrestrained.
He flicked his ashes expertly.
“This world’s mad.”
Darren chuckled, drawing a deep breath of smoke, eyes tracing the sky.
“Yeah. Pretty damn mad.”
Senor watched them silently. Both men slowly lowered their gazes to the cigarettes in their hands.
Birds darted through the trees. The sunset glazed the distant sky.
As the last ashes fell—
Senor’s eyes widened.
BANG!
A violent shockwave swept the clearing, tossing his hair.
In a blink, Darren and Bullet collided—fists clashing, elbows locked.
The impact of Armament Haki sent trees crumbling in a wide radius.
Then—
A near-cataclysmic surge of Conqueror’s Haki burst from them both.
Crackling lightning filled the air. The world turned monochrome.
Senor stared, dumbfounded.
They were just... joking a moment ago. How did it come to this!?
But the clash was as brief as it was intense.
With a muffled boom, they both staggered back, feet gouging deep tracks in the ground.
Dust flew.
Two spent cigarette stubs fell slowly through the air.
They locked eyes.
And smiled.
“If you weren’t a Marine... we could’ve been great friends, Darren.”
Bullet grinned.
Darren shook his head with a soft smile, lighting another smoke.
“I thought you weren’t the kind who needed friends.”
Bullet paused—then burst into laughter.
“You’re right. I’m not.”
He turned to the wrecked metallic ark, placing a hand on the twisted hull.
Activating his Clank-Clank fruit, the metal reshaped itself, forming a small submarine.
Darren didn’t stop him. He simply watched, calm.
Bullet dragged the submarine to the nearby shore and pushed it into the water.
Then, with a leap, he stood atop it.
The sunset dyed him crimson. The sea sparkled.
“So Darren...”
Bullet turned, flashing a savage grin.
“Don’t get soft. Next time, if I kill you too easily, it won’t be any fun.”
Darren waved, grinning.
“Get lost. Before I change my mind.”
“Kahahaha!!”
Bullet laughed again, clenched his fists, and dove into the sub. It vanished beneath the sea.
Darren stood still, eyes on the rippling waves.
Narrowed his gaze.
“Next time we meet… it could be our final battle, Bullet.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 207: Chapter 109: An Expensive Suit
Summary:
“Loyalty isn't measured by opportunity, but by the weight of the past one chooses to carry.”
Chapter Text
The last light of sunset cast a long shadow behind the tall figure of the Marine commodore, stretching across the earth beneath his feet.
The ocean lay still and calm. Seabirds skimmed the surface, wings brushing the waves as their cries echoed faintly across the water.
Senor looked at Darren, who stood there smoking quietly. Smoke curled around his sharply defined profile, and after a moment of silence, Senor finally asked:
“Lord Darren… if you couldn’t become friends with him, why didn’t you just kill him?”
If you’re not a friend—then you’re an enemy.
And enemies must be eliminated completely.
That was the philosophy Senor had grown up with in the Donquixote Family.
Darren chuckled lightly.
“Even with one arm gone, that guy’s not someone I can kill so easily.”
Bullet’s strength was already bordering on that of a full-fledged admiral. Though Darren’s physical growth had far surpassed his during their recent imprisonment, Bullet still held a clear edge in Armament Haki.
All things considered, if they were to clash again on land, Darren didn’t think he’d come out ahead.
A glint of reflection passed through his eyes, and his tone grew deeper, laced with meaning.
“And besides, Senor... do you know something?”
“For people like me, sometimes an enemy is more important than a friend.”
Senor nodded, half-understanding, then asked again:
“So what now? That vivre card was destroyed during the battle. The reinforcements from the Marines likely won’t be able to find this place.”
Darren shrugged casually.
“No rush. They’ll need some time to clean up the mess first.”
If Admiral Sengoku followed the vivre card and found Kaido’s base, a full-blown battle would definitely erupt.
But... if the Marines really deployed the forces Senor had just described—
Darren’s mouth twitched slightly.
He found himself silently offering a brief prayer for Kaido.
“Let’s find a town and get some rest. I’m fine, but you... your injuries still need treatment, even if they’re not fatal yet.”
Senor nodded in agreement.
His condition was far from good—large swathes of his skin were scorched and blistered. Without proper treatment, infection and blood loss could quickly lead to organ failure.
The All-Star known as “Queen the Plague" had indeed lived up to his name.
In the face of these sea emperors of the New World, Senor’s own strength felt utterly insignificant—like an ant waiting to be crushed.
Wait...
“‘I’m fine’!?”
Wasn’t Lord Darren’s condition worse than mine?
He’d been imprisoned and tortured for days—
Senor turned instinctively to examine Darren’s injuries.
His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open.
Scabbed... already!?
———
One day later.
A thriving trade town on a neutral island in the New World.
“The wounds have been disinfected and treated. Nothing life-threatening. Just make sure not to get them wet this week, and change the dressings on time.”
“Thanks, doctor.”
Darren smiled and casually slipped a thick stack of colorful banknotes into the doctor’s kit.
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly—”
The doctor made a half-hearted protest, but made no real attempt to stop him.
Once the doctor left, Darren turned to Senor, smiling:
“How are you feeling?”
Senor sat shirtless, his torso wrapped in bloodstained bandages, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders.
“Much better.”
He gave a weary smile.
Darren tossed him a cigarette, lit one for himself, and said gently:
“Senor, I was serious about what I said before. Why not reconsider?”
“With your talent and strength, staying with the Donquixote Family is a waste. Doffy’s a promising kid, sure—but he’s reckless. Immature. He makes decisions with his temper more than his brain.”
“Honestly, you know what he’s like. As his godfather, I’ve spent more than my share of sleepless nights.”
“I need someone like you. Say the word, and I’ll offer you power, position, wealth—and the best training resources this sea has to offer.”
“If you agree, I’ll even personally recommend you for the next Elite Officer Training Camp back at Marine Headquarters.”
“There’s no need to doubt—I have the authority to make that happen.”
Darren’s gaze was sharp and earnest.
What Senor had shown in their recent ordeal—his composure, resilience, reaction speed, tenacity—had deeply impressed him.
Add in the unique powers of the Swim-Swim Fruit... If nurtured properly, Senor could become a formidable asset under his command.
And most crucially—Senor was only sixteen.
Sixteen—and already this capable.
That alone spoke volumes.
As far as Darren was concerned, keeping someone like him locked away in the Donquixote Family was a tragic waste of potential.
And ultimately, that was Doffy’s fault.
Donquixote Doflamingo... the man had no idea how to cultivate talent.
“Lord Darren…”
Senor offered a pained smile.
“I won’t deny it—your offer is truly tempting.”
His expression flickered with hesitation. But after a moment’s silence, he clenched his fists, and his eyes regained their usual calm and firm resolve.
“But I’m sorry. I have to refuse.”
“Oh?”
Darren raised an eyebrow, but wasn’t upset.
“Mind telling me why?”
Senor answered quietly:
“When I had nothing—not even clothes to wear or food to eat—it was Lord Doflamingo who saved me.”
A gentle, distant smile crept across his lips as his gaze softened with memory.
“I still remember the day he gave me a suit I could never afford in a thousand lifetimes… and he told me—”
‘Senor, you’ve got the temperament of a man who looks good in a suit.’
He reached up, fingertips brushing the fabric of the jacket over his shoulders, eyes growing more complicated.
“He gave me food, shelter, identity, rank, honor… and even a Devil Fruit—one of the rarest treasures on the sea.”
“I have no reason to ever leave the Donquixote Family.”
“So, I’m truly sorry, Lord Darren.”
Darren scratched his head with a sigh.
“I see. Well, fair enough—I won’t push you.”
He chuckled at himself.
“But I think I finally understand how Kaido must’ve felt. Being turned down really doesn’t feel great, huh…”
“Get some rest, Senor.”
With that, Darren turned to leave the room.
Just as his hand reached the door, he paused—then turned around with a faint, mysterious smile.
“But, Senor… you know something?”
“There are some clothes in this world that might not cost as much as a tailored suit—”
“—but they mean far more.”
“And no expensive suit could ever replace the weight of what they stand for.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 208: Chapter 110: A T0-Tier Sensei
Summary:
"The deadliest foes make the finest teachers—if you live long enough to learn."
Chapter Text
Inside a luxurious hotel suite, Rogers Darren sat quietly at the bedside, activating his “Perception” ability to assess his current condition.
Physique: 78.312
Strength: 70.001
Speed: 70.391
Devil Fruit: 77.998
Armament Haki: 32.012
Conqueror’s Haki: 51.001
After the “escape battle” from the Beasts Pirates’ main base, each of his stats had improved—though not drastically.
Compared to the period when he was imprisoned, the pace of his power growth was undeniably slower.
Still, Darren didn’t feel discouraged. He accepted it calmly.
The explosive growth he had achieved from the virus injections before had been a rare and unique opportunity.
In truth, as his physique increased and resistance to the virus grew, the effects of that method became increasingly diminished—eventually plateauing.
The body was, after all, adapting.
To achieve further breakthroughs in his physical stats, he would now need more intense external pressure, harsher training, and... battles with stronger opponents.
One clear benefit, however, had come from that joint attack he launched with Bullet against Kaido. The pressure of facing Kaido’s Conqueror’s Haki had somehow elevated Darren’s own spirit—his Conqueror’s Haki stat had increased by a full point.
“What the hell is a T0-tier sensei supposed to be...”
Darren suddenly remembered some bizarre jokes from the fandom of his past life and chuckled.
As ridiculous as they sounded, he had to admit—this whole “captured” experience had significantly strengthened him.
Knock knock knock...
Just as his thoughts wandered, a knock came at the suite door.
“Lord Darren, it’s me.”
Senor’s voice rang out.
“Come in.”
Darren responded.
Senor stepped in, a lit cigarette between his lips.
He was now dressed in a brand-new peak-lapel suit, his movements refined and gentlemanly. He offered a slight bow.
“I’ve made contact with the Young Master and established a link with the island’s underground network. Their shipping fleet will set out in an hour. The route passes through the North Blue.”
“Would you like to return to the North Blue with me? The Young Master expressed that he misses you through the Den Den Mushi.”
Darren chuckled:
“That I don’t believe. Out of everyone on this sea, the person Doffy probably least wants to see is me.”
Senor hesitated, wanting to defend his Young Master:
“Actually, the Young Master—”
Darren waved him off, smiling:
“I’ve left the North Blue. I won’t be heading back anytime soon.”
“Doffy’s still young—this is his rebellious phase. No point in me going back and becoming an eyesore.”
“But enough of that. Are you sure this fleet is reliable?”
Senor nodded:
“Yes. The owner of this fleet has business ties with our Donquixote Family.”
Darren raised an eyebrow, then smiled, visibly impressed:
“Looks like Doffy’s business is flourishing. Already expanding influence into the New World, huh?”
Senor replied seriously:
“All thanks to Supreme Commander Momonga’s support.”
Darren laughed:
“Alright, you can head back. Tell Doffy he’s earned my gratitude this time. As his godfather, I’m thankful.”
“And Senor—my offer still stands. My door is always open if you change your mind.”
The admiration in Darren’s gaze was unmistakable.
Senor gave a deep bow:
“Thank you for your recognition, Lord Darren. I will relay your message word for word to the Young Master.”
With that, he turned and left the room with confident strides.
Watching Senor’s figure disappear, Darren lit a cigarette, then suddenly remembered something. He picked up the hotel’s Den Den Mushi and dialed a familiar number.
Buru buru... buru buru...
The call connected in just two seconds.
A calm, steady voice came through:
“This is Momonga.”
A relaxed smile spread across Darren’s face:
“Momonga, it’s me.”
...
Meanwhile, on the other end of the line—
Rubeck Island, North Blue.
Momonga stood on the deck of a massive warship, watching the Donquixote Family’s base in the distance.
It had been eight days since he received the report of Darren’s capture by Kaido.
No intelligence had come in from the New World yet, making him more anxious by the hour.
He glanced at the three warships docked at the port and two more patrolling offshore. His fists clenched tightly.
The longer the delay, the greater the danger to Darren.
If there were still no updates, he would soon have no choice but to take action.
At that moment, the private Den Den Mushi in his coat began to ring.
While issuing fleet orders to subordinates, he picked up the receiver.
“This is Momonga.”
“It’s me.”
Startled for a moment, Momonga’s face lit up in joy.
“Darren! You escaped!?”
A voice full of calm confidence replied:
“Yes. There were some twists and turns, but I made it out.”
Momonga finally exhaled in relief.
“If everything’s fine, then withdraw the fleet. It’s not polite to surround someone’s base like this.”
Darren chuckled.
Momonga sighed:
“You really don’t miss anything.”
“You handled it well,” Darren said. “If something had happened to me, the North Blue alone wouldn’t have been enough to contain Donquixote Doflamingo.”
“But I must thank Doffy’s helper for this escape—a young man named Senor. Very impressive.”
Momonga paused, then smiled:
“You didn’t try to recruit him? That’s not like you.”
“I did,” Darren replied. “He turned me down.”
“He’s a true man of loyalty and pride. I won’t force him.”
Momonga nodded:
“When will you return to HQ?”
“In a few days. I want to explore the New World a bit while I’m here... That’s all for now.”
“Understood.”
Momonga ended the call and stood silently for a moment. Then he called over a young officer.
“Supreme Commander!”
The officer saluted sharply.
“Order all warships to return to the 321st Branch,” Momonga commanded.
“And... Doflamingo’s birthday is coming up. Send him a generous gift, in the name of the North Blue fleet.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 209: Chapter 111: I Challenge... the Strongest
Summary:
"Some fights are invitations, not for war, but for recognition—from one storm to another."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The New World. A certain island.
The Oro Jackson lay anchored at the shore, its skull-flag with the sea-wave mustache fluttering in the brisk ocean breeze.
A bonfire crackled along the coast.
Gathered around it, the crew of the Roger Pirates laughed uproariously, smoking and drinking with gusto.
Chunks of marbled meat sizzled on the fire, juices dripping onto the coals and filling the air with a rich, mouth-watering aroma.
"To think Garp actually gave up chasing us... now that is strange," said Rayleigh, adjusting his glasses as he took a sip from his jug, frowning slightly.
"Hahahaha!! That’s because Garp knows he can’t beat me, so he gave up!" Roger bellowed, laughing heartily. He eagerly sliced a piece of roasted meat, drizzled it with sauce, and took a large bite.
Juices exploded over his tongue, the savory fat flooding his senses. He closed his eyes in sheer delight.
Rayleigh rolled his eyes at the blunt comment.
"It’s probably something more serious than that..."
Gaban, puffing on a cigar, spoke in a low voice. His twin black battle axes gleamed beside him, reflecting the sunlight with a cold sheen.
"Serious business, huh..." Rayleigh muttered as he downed another swig.
"Since that battle back then, Garp never let us out of his sight. Ignored even orders from the World Government."
Roger threw an arm around Rayleigh’s shoulder with a grin.
"Why overthink it? Isn’t it good news for us? If that Garp bastard hadn’t run off, would we be sitting here enjoying meat and drink like this?"
Rayleigh sighed. "You have a point..."
"Exactly! Live in the moment, that’s what matters!" Roger lifted his jug high.
"Tonight, we drink till we drop!!"
"Yeah!!" the crew roared in unison, the flames flickering with their excitement.
Rayleigh rubbed his temple.
Drinking is fine. Eating is fine. But Roger, you bastard... could you not wipe your greasy hands on my clothes...
He eyed the oily handprint on his shoulder with a twitching mouth.
Suddenly—
All three—Rayleigh, Roger, and Gaban—sensed it.
A glimmer of red sparked deep in their eyes.
BOOM!!
The sea exploded into a towering column of water.
A small submarine launched out of the depths like a blade slicing through ice, slamming into the beach.
"Who’s there!?"
"An enemy!?"
"A submarine!?"
"Could it be the Marines!?"
The Roger Pirates leapt to their feet, gripping weapons, alert and ready as the submarine left a deep trench in the sand.
Clank.
The hatch opened with a heavy thud.
A burly figure with messy golden hair emerged.
"You... are Roger?"
He scanned the crowd, locking onto the man in the blood-red captain’s coat. A wild smirk tugged at his lips.
Roger squinted at him for two seconds before his grin broke across his face.
"That’s right. And you are?"
BOOM!
A massive surge of Conqueror’s Haki erupted from the golden-haired youth, crashing over the beach like a tidal wave. The entire atmosphere seemed to freeze.
"Douglas Bullet."
Crimson lightning crackled around him as his hair whipped wildly. His pupils flared red with bloodthirst.
"I’ve come to challenge... the strongest!"
With that, he shot forward like a released beast, charging straight for Roger!
---
Ten seconds later.
BANG!
Bullet’s body slammed into the submarine with a metallic crunch, denting the steel hull.
Blood dribbled from his lips as he stared at Roger—who hadn’t even moved from his seat and was still chewing on meat—with utter disbelief.
"How... How could the gap be this wide...?"
Roger tore off another piece of meat and grinned.
"You’re strong, kid. But to challenge me? You’re a few hundred years too early."
"Damn it..."
Rage filled Bullet’s eyes—but before he could react, a jug flew through the air and landed in his arms.
"You haven’t eaten yet, have you, kid?"
He blinked, staring into Roger’s easygoing, confident face. Around him, the Roger Pirates offered warm, inviting smiles.
"Even if you want to fight more... you need to eat first."
Roger chuckled.
"Isn’t that right?"
---
Somewhere else in the New World, in a bustling commercial town, the streets overflowed with life.
Shops lined the roads, packed with dazzling goods.
Darren strolled leisurely, a cigar in his mouth, soaking in the rare moment of peace.
His Marine uniform had long since been torn to shreds during battle and captivity. He now wore a clean white shirt, casual black slacks, and a loosely tied black necktie. The look gave him a roguish elegance that drew admiring glances from women and noble ladies alike.
He entered a bar. As the wooden door swung shut, the noise and sunlight from outside disappeared.
Inside, dim lights cast a mellow glow. Soft music flowed through the air.
"Whiskey. On the rocks."
He sat at the counter and gestured to the bartender.
"Also, got a map?"
A drink was necessary, but information was essential.
Places like bars, brothels, and casinos often served as local intelligence hubs.
Since he’d never been to the New World before, he needed to pinpoint his current location.
After everything he’d been through, Darren felt confident enough to say: even in this sea dubbed the “Pirate Graveyard,” few could stop him now.
As long as he didn’t run into those legendary monsters...
Taking the whiskey and the map, he casually tossed a few bills onto the counter.
He took a sip—the burn rolled down his throat, rich and fierce. He squinted with pleasure.
Unfolding the crude map, Darren quickly identified the position of this neutral island.
“So... it’s near Wano, huh?”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
With this chapter, we close a major arc — and step deeper into the heart of The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History.
If this story has moved you in any way — a scene, a line, a character, or a single thought — I’d love to know. You can always leave a comment below, or even bookmark if you’d like to return to it later.
Every bit of support helps the story grow — and keeps it alive.
Thanks, truly, for reading.
Chapter 210: Chapter 112: The Kozuki Clan
Summary:
“Not all legacies are worth preserving. Some are burdens, heavy with cowardice, delusion, and false glory.”
Chapter Text
Wano…
Gazing at that conspicuously marked, mysterious country on the map, countless thoughts surged through Darren’s mind in an instant.
The timeline he had crossed into was rather vague. Even with his deep knowledge of the original storyline, he couldn't quite grasp the current situation within Wano.
But one thing was certain: the fact that Kaido had captured him and taken him to some unknown island instead of Wano was proof enough that Kaido’s influence hadn’t yet extended there.
“So… I wonder if that so-called ‘invincible’ Kozuki Oden has already set out to sea…”
The image of a samurai surfaced in Darren’s mind, and a sneer tugged at the corner of his lips.
He didn’t harbor any fond feelings for the Kozuki family from the original story.
Oden’s father, Kozuki Sukiyaki, was weak and foolish, his throne usurped through the cunning schemes of Kurozumi Orochi.
After escaping from prison, he dared neither resist nor take his own life—merely watched as Wano fell into Orochi and Kaido’s hands, plunging the nation into blood and suffering.
They called it enduring for twenty years, but truthfully, it was cowardice and fear of death.
If he truly had the loyalty and honor of a samurai, then even if it meant standing alone against the tide, he should have shed his blood on the streets—or at the very least, taken his life with pride. That would have preserved the dignity of a shogun.
And Kozuki Oden?
As a youth, he was wild and lawless—arson, gambling, womanizing. He kidnapped women in his own country to build a harem, inciting public outrage.
As an adult, he abandoned his nation and family in pursuit of so-called freedom and dreams, turning his back on the very land that raised him.
A muscle-bound fool, so naïve he bordered on idiocy. Despite possessing overwhelming strength and being backed by the Whitebeard Pirates and the Roger Pirates—an all-star lineup of legends—he allowed himself to be easily manipulated, humiliating himself by dancing naked at the city gates.
No plans. No contingencies. Just a reckless gamble with his Nine Red Scabbards—only to lose everything.
As for Kozuki Momonosuke, he was pure deadweight.
Crumbled at the first sign of resistance, arrogant when things went his way—lustful and incompetent. Throughout Wano’s storyline, he contributed nothing, yet inherited the title of Shogun through his father’s legacy and a puff of floating flame.
And in the end, he even rewrote history to paint himself as Wano’s “savior.”
Three generations of the Kozuki line—impossible to feel anything but disdain.
To think Wano’s people had these three as their rulers… what misfortune.
Darren shook his head.
But just as he was deep in thought, a conversation from a corner table in the tavern caught his attention.
…
“Damn, I’m so jealous. Never thought the Hall brothers would get their hands on such a high-grade prize first.”
“With that kind of quality, she could fetch a fortune.”
At a table in the tavern’s corner, a few middle-aged men dressed like pirates were drinking with a swagger.
Their fingers were adorned with gaudy gem-studded rings, expensive cigars clenched between their teeth, and they carried the air of nouveau riche thugs.
“But seriously, that woman was unbelievably stupid. Actually believed whatever crap the Hall brothers fed her. Hahaha! Send her to Wano? How naïve. Even Marine warships don’t dare enter Wano’s waters…”
“So what’s the deal with that country? There’s no word about it outside…”
“Who knows? All I know is, you don’t mess with them. I heard the Dark Emperor once sent a whole ship of men to investigate—over a hundred crew members—and the entire vessel vanished without a trace. The Dark Emperor didn’t even dare say a word afterward.”
“Damn… But that woman… she’s clearly dressed in Wano-style garb…”
“Well, the Hall brothers sure as hell won’t take her to Wano. They probably snatched her up on some nearby deserted island, locked her away, and plan to sell her to traffickers for a fat profit…”
“No doubt. I’ve never seen a woman that beautiful before, especially with that naturally pale green hair… damn…”
“Yeah, yeah, and that flawless, porcelain-like face… hehehe…”
The men couldn’t help but indulge their filthy fantasies, their faces twisting into lecherous grins.
Suddenly, a bottle of high-proof whiskey slammed onto their table with a loud bang.
“Gentlemen, may I ask—where exactly did you say that woman was taken?”
Startled, the men instinctively looked up along the arm gripping the bottle.
What they saw was the defiant, striking face of a young man.
A black-haired youth in a white shirt was smiling at them with cheerful ease.
“Allow me to buy you a drink. Let’s be friends.”
For a moment, the men fell silent.
Then burst out laughing.
“Friends!? Hahahahahahaha!!”
They howled with laughter, as if they'd just heard the most ridiculous joke, their shoulders shaking.
“Drinks!? Who the hell do you think you are!?”
One bald man suddenly sneered, sprang to his feet, and without warning drew a dagger from his belt, slashing viciously toward Darren’s throat.
“I’m someone who—!”
Clang!!
The sharp blade struck Darren’s skin, but it was like hitting steel—sparks flew.
With a crack, the dagger snapped in half.
The bald man’s words were cut short, his twisted grin frozen on his face.
“Hiss!!”
All around the tavern, the onlookers gasped in unison.
Some even rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
A dagger breaking… from striking human skin!?
“What the…”
“W-What are you!?”
The bald man and his companions turned ghostly pale, staring at Darren in shock.
“Sigh…”
Darren let out a weary sigh.
“If you won’t be my friend… then you’ll have to be my enemies, won’t you?”
The moment he finished speaking, the group saw only a blur—and then their bodies were sent flying with a thunderous crash.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of shattering ribs echoed through the room. Save for the bald man, all his companions lay sprawled on the ground, vomiting blood, motionless.
The tavern fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone stood frozen, too afraid to move.
“P-Please don’t kill me… I’ll tell you everything… just don’t kill me…”
With a thud, the bald man fell to his knees, trembling uncontrollably.
Darren casually took a seat at the table, leisurely unscrewed the whiskey bottle, and smiled at the ashen-faced man.
“Now… do you feel like sharing a drink?”
The bald man blinked, then nodded frantically like a chicken pecking grain. He crawled forward on his knees, snatched the bottle from Darren’s hand, and chugged it down.
His pale face quickly flushed red, amber liquor dripping from his nostrils, tears welling in his eyes.
But still, he kept drinking—afraid to stop.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 211: Chapter 113: To Steal Another’s Love
Summary:
“Some arrive with swords not to protect love, but to steal it.”
Chapter Text
On a nameless, uninhabited island—
Towering trees and jagged cliffs encircled the coastline, bathed in brilliant sunlight.
A stunning figure dashed frantically along the shore, gasping for breath. Her long legs, clad in short boots, thudded anxiously across the ground.
Waist-length, pale green hair flowed behind her as she ran, dressed in a soft pink kimono.
“Hahaha! Don’t run, now!! You’re a real beauty—top-class merchandise!!”
“Where do you think you can go?”
“Hahaha!!”
“Why are you running, lovely?”
The pirates chased after her, hearts practically in their eyes, faces twisted with greed and lust.
“We’ve done our part, you know. We brought you to Wano like we promised.”
Seeing the woman halted at the edge of the sea, with no way left to run, they burst into laughter.
“Come on now, we don’t want to hurt you.”
The young woman stared at the endless ocean ahead, bit her cherry-pink lips with pearly teeth, and slowly turned around, a trace of despair in her eyes.
“I figured as much…”
She glared at the ship in the distance and shouted in fury:
“That’s a human trafficking vessel.”
“If you hurt me, you won’t get a good price.”
The pirates’ grins darkened at her words.
She gritted her teeth and said through clenched jaws:
“I actually got tricked… by a bunch of scumbags who clearly looked like villains from the start. I was so stupid!”
With a sudden motion, she drew the katana at her waist. Her slender, fair hands gripped the hilt tightly, blade pointed at the group of pirates.
As her kimono swirled and her eyes lit with determination, the scene struck with breathtaking force—grace and fierceness combined.
The blonde pirate leading them scoffed.
“Resistance is pointless. Behind you is the ocean—you’ve got nowhere left to go. Just give up.”
He drew his weapon, and his men slowly advanced, leering as they closed in.
“Give it up. We’ll treat you real nice.”
Shadows gradually crept across the woman’s face. She let out a long, quiet sigh.
“This is the end of the line… I must travel to the future again…”
Her voice trembled with sorrow, resignation, and a trace of determination. Suddenly, a strange, shimmering aura of mystical energy began to rise from her body.
“What the hell is that…”
“What’s happening!?”
“She’s activating some kind of power!”
The pirates’ pupils shrank as they watched the surreal energy spiral around her—an untouchable force. Her pale green hair began to float as if caught in an unseen wind.
“Stop her!!”
“Don’t let her escape!!”
“Get her!!”
Fury erupted on the blonde man’s face. Gritting his teeth, he gave the order.
In an instant, all the pirates drew their weapons and charged at the beautiful woman in a frenzied swarm!
But just then—
Vrrrrrrmm!
A deafening screech split the air from above. A razor wind whipped through the coastline, halting everyone—pirates and woman alike—in their tracks.
It was the sound of something sharp slicing through the sky.
A moment later—
Shing! Shing! Shing!
Dozens of metallic spikes rained down, so fast they were invisible to the naked eye, piercing the ground with explosive force.
The pirates didn’t even have time to scream. Their bodies were impaled, torn apart like paper, nailed gruesomely into the earth.
A stench of blood instantly filled the air.
The woman stared, stunned, at the mangled corpses sprawled before her—lifeless eyes staring into nothing. She reflexively covered her mouth and stepped back.
And as she stepped back… she bumped into a broad, solid chest.
“Ah? I’m so sorry!!”
Startled, she turned around and instinctively bowed in apology.
But as she looked up—
A wild, untamed yet strikingly handsome face came into view.
A tall, black-haired young man stood beneath the sun in a clean, white shirt. Behind him, the ocean shimmered with a serene blue light. He offered her a disarming smile.
“Apologies—didn’t scare you, did I?”
What a handsome man!
Her heart fluttered wildly. A faint blush rose to her cheeks.
Did… did I just lean against his chest?
“I-I… no, not at all,” she mumbled, eyes averted, her voice soft as a whisper.
So it was him who saved me!
Darren gave a light chuckle.
“As long as you’re unharmed.”
“N-not at all…”
Toki drew in a deep breath, calming her pounding heart. She lowered her head and gave a deep, graceful bow.
“Thank you for saving my life. I’m deeply grateful.”
“My name is Amatsuki Toki. May I ask for your name?”
So it really was her…
Amatsuki Toki!
One of the most mysterious and exceptional Devil Fruit users on the seas.
Wielder of the Time-Time Fruit—Amatsuki Toki, from eight hundred years ago!
But of course, beyond that, this gentle and stunning woman also bore a far more renowned identity in the original story:
—Wife of Kozuki Oden, and biological mother of Kozuki Momonosuke!
Her pale green hair fluttered in the breeze, adorned on the right with a red-and-yellow hair ornament.
She wore a soft pink kimono patterned with crescent motifs, accentuating her slender figure.
Long legs, porcelain white, clad in yellow short boots.
There was no denying it—Toki was the most breathtaking woman Darren had seen since arriving in this world. No wonder she was the mother of Wano’s famed courtesan, Kozuki Hiyori.
After all, Hiyori’s ethereal beauty certainly didn’t come from Kozuki Oden.
As Darren looked at the stunning Toki, a flicker crossed his eyes—dozens of thoughts raced through his mind in a flash.
He’d never denied being a man of desires. Everyone admired beauty—why pretend?
He wasn’t a saint. “Disgrace” was a title he could wear with ease.
Crossing into the One Piece world—who wouldn’t dream of Nami, Robin, Shirahoshi, Rebecca, Hancock, Kalifa, Vivi…?
And more than that, Amatsuki Toki’s Devil Fruit power was beyond rare. Absolutely worth pursuing.
Of course, he would never force or deceive. He still had some standards.
With that thought, Darren’s expression softened into a warm, sincere smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“My name is Rogers Darren. I’m a Commodore of the Marine Headquarters. While patrolling nearby islands, I discovered signs of human trafficking and came to investigate.”
“M-Marine…?”
Toki repeated the word softly, a hint of hesitation crossing her face.
After being deceived earlier, her instincts were sharper than ever. Her mind raced.
She had come from eight hundred years ago, traveling through time to reach the future.
There were no Marines in her era, but she had heard passing mentions of their mission—protecting peace and upholding justice.
Surely… they could be trusted.
And besides—how could a man this handsome possibly be evil?
He was her savior, after all!
Toki clenched her fists discreetly, silently cursing her own doubts. The wariness in her heart began to fade.
“Yes… Where is your home, if I may ask? This island is deserted—it won’t be easy to leave.”
Darren said calmly:
“If you trust me, I’ll take you from here and return you to your homeland.”
Toki’s eyes lit up at his words.
“Really? I want to go to Wano! Can you take me there?”
“Wano, huh? That country’s been sealed off from the world. It won’t be easy to get—”
Before Darren could finish, the sea erupted with a mighty roar, a towering column of water exploding into the sky.
Toki gasped, startled. Before she could react, the young Marine stepped forward and shielded her behind him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Darren narrowed his eyes.
A second later—
A massive figure burst from the waves, bound in thick purple-and-white ropes, a kimono embroidered with crescent symbols soaked through with seawater.
Sharp phoenix eyes, thick brows, wild black hair styled into a flat top with a prominent widow’s peak and triangular sideburns—
Only now, his entire body was bloated, his face swollen like a pig’s, grotesque and monstrous.
“I heard a woman’s cry for help!”
The man scanned the beach. His eyes passed over the blood-soaked corpses, then landed on the alarmed Toki.
His gaze turned murderous.
“So it was you who was tormenting this beautiful lady!!”
Of course… here he comes.
The moment he burst from the sea, Darren recognized him. A sneer twisted across his lips.
Kozuki… Oden.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 212: Chapter 114: He Must Die
Summary:
“Some bloodlines deserve to end—not for what they’ve done, but for what they’ll become.”
Chapter Text
The next Shogun of Wano. A warrior adored by Roger, Whitebeard, and Kaido alike...
Kozuki Oden!!
And yet—here you are, rushing in to reclaim your wife before I’ve even made a move?
The cold sneer on Darren’s lips deepened into something far more chilling. A faint arc of blue electricity danced between his fingers as an invisible, eerie magnetic field and biological radar spread outward in an instant.
His entire body tensed. Muscles coiled like a tiger preparing to pounce. His aura surged.
There were plenty of reasons to intercept Kozuki Oden.
First, someone like Oden—a foolish, incompetent man—had no right to a woman as captivating as Amatsuki Toki.
Second, Darren simply couldn’t stand him.
Third, Toki’s Devil Fruit power was far too valuable. Even if she didn’t like him, keeping her close and eventually bringing her under his command would give him a powerful ace up his sleeve.
But above all else—only one reason truly mattered…
—Momonosuke must die.
“Don’t worry, lady! I’ll save you from this villain right now!”
Swollen like a sea monster, his face bloated into a pig’s head, Kozuki Oden let out a loud cry as he suddenly drew his twin swords.
He came crashing down from above, slashing toward Darren!
One black, one white—two fearsome great swords carved twin trails through the air, slicing it silently with phantom streaks of black and white.
The pressure was immense—overwhelming.
The deadly edge radiating from those twin blades made Darren’s pupils narrow sharply.
He stepped forward.
Boom!
A dull rumble echoed from the beach beneath his foot.
And then—
BOOOOM!
The sand before him collapsed in a wide radius. The sea roared upward, layer after layer of waves crashing skyward.
Using the explosive force of that step, Darren’s figure launched like a meteor hurled in reverse—rocketing skyward.
Jet-black Armament Haki coated his arms in an instant. Veins bulged over rippling muscle that suddenly compressed like a spring.
He fired his fists like a pair of rocket launchers!
CLANG!
Fists met blades in a blinding clash, showering sparks across the battlefield.
BOOM—!!
A massive shockwave erupted, sweeping across the entire island. The sea boiled into waves tens of meters high.
Hurricane-force winds howled.
Tens of thousands of red lightning bolts exploded around the two combatants, filling the sky with a web of pure force.
Clouds tore apart above. The sky split open with a jagged scar.
Conqueror’s Haki—clashing at full force!
The heavens changed color.
The storm swallowed all, hurling sand and stone into the air.
Amatsuki Toki gasped, breath caught in her throat. A wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Sharp shards of rock sliced through the wind like bullets—her face turned ghostly pale.
But just then, a wall of metal rose in front of her, blocking the debris. It shifted shape in an instant, forming a protective shell, catching her and carrying her safely backward for dozens of meters.
That handsome young Marine again!
Even in the midst of this furious battle, he hadn’t forgotten to protect her?
Warmth surged in Toki’s chest. Her cheeks flushed red.
In the raging wind, she clutched the cold, hard metal with both hands—yet deep in her heart, she felt an unprecedented sense of safety.
…
Amid the storm of thunder and lightning—
Kozuki Oden’s eyes widened.
His strike—had been blocked!?
Stunned at first, his bloated, water-swollen face suddenly lit up with blazing excitement.
“Wahahahaha!! You blocked that slash? You’re pretty good!!”
Darren narrowed his eyes at Oden, sneering.
“So I underestimated you after all…”
From the power of that strike and the intensity of his Conqueror’s Haki, Darren quickly gauged the man’s overall strength.
This version of Oden must’ve just set out to sea—still undergoing Whitebeard’s trials, not yet part of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Far weaker than he would one day become, when facing Kaido in Wano.
And with that bloated, waterlogged form dragging him down even more…
Darren’s lips twisted into a savage grin. The fists that clashed against Oden’s swords shifted—into claws.
Jet-black hands locked tightly around the twin blades.
Oden froze. He tried to wrench his swords free—but to his shock, Darren’s strength was monstrous. The blades didn’t budge an inch!
“You’re the ‘Invincible’ one!?”
Darren snarled, yanked the blades—
—and dragged Kozuki Oden himself straight into his grasp.
Then slammed his forehead down—
BOOM!
The headbutt, reinforced with Armament Haki, hit like a cannon. Oden shot into the earth like a missile, carving a massive crater into the beach.
A split-second later—
Darren’s figure blurred downward like lightning, spinning midair in a spiraling dive. The centripetal force gathered into his upraised boot.
That black military boot descended like a battle axe toward Oden’s skull!
The force, the speed, the pressure—Darren’s presence roared like a demon from the underworld.
“Armament Style: Battleaxe Meteor!”
A fatal sense of dread seized Oden. Blood pouring down his face, his pupils shrank to pinpricks. In his wide eyes, that cold boot loomed ever larger.
CLANG!
In a panic, he crossed his blades to block—but the blow sent him tumbling away like a rag doll.
The boot, charged with overwhelming power and Haki, crashed down like a collapsing galaxy. The entire island trembled.
CRACK!
At the point of impact, the ground tore apart like a black serpent—massive fissures spreading to the sea. Clouds of dust surged like dragons.
Seawater gushed into the cracks—exploding into crashing waves.
The sea boiled. Ash and steam howled.
Gasping for breath, Kozuki Oden staggered to his feet, face grim but eyes blazing with fervor.
“Unbelievable! I just set sail, and I get to face a warrior like this already! Wahahahaha!!”
“I was right to leave Wano after all!”
“Remember this name—Kozuki Oden—!”
Ping!
The sharp flick of a coin cut his words short.
Oden’s Observation Haki screamed a warning. His pupils shrank—his face paled.
“I’m not interested in your name.”
Darren’s cold voice rang out.
The wind scattered the smoke.
And in Oden’s tightening field of vision, that powerful figure stood at an angle, right arm extended, fingers in mid-snap.
His eyes—ice cold.
A coin flipped lazily through the air.
And in that instant, a deathly sense of danger swallowed Oden whole.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 213: Chapter 115: Never Seen Martial Arts Like This, Have You?
Summary:
“Skill may clash with steel—but only those who close the distance, rule the fight.”
Chapter Text
A few minutes earlier—
In the distant sea—
The Moby Dick, massive as a white whale, glided over the waves. From its stern trailed a thick iron chain, submerged into the sea.
“Pops, Oden’s nearly made it through the trial! Why haven’t you agreed to let him join us yet?”
Marco spoke, visibly frustrated, to Whitebeard seated at the center of the deck.
“Yeah, Pops, he’s held out for two whole days!”
“Isn’t that enough already?”
“Besides, don’t you actually like the guy?”
“If he joins us, our Whitebeard Pirates would gain a serious boost in strength.”
“…”
The other crew members chimed in one after another, voicing their support.
As he listened to his sons argue one by one, a trace of resignation flickered through Whitebeard’s eyes.
He had to admit—Kozuki Oden’s wild, reckless personality certainly suited his taste.
But it was precisely Oden’s overwhelming strength that reminded him of the chaos back in the Rocks Pirates.
Too many unruly powerhouses in a single crew often meant disaster—rivalries, clashes, and no one willing to back down.
Yet just as Whitebeard was silently pondering—
BOOOOOOM!!
A thunderous explosion suddenly roared from the distant island across the sea.
Waves of red shockwaves erupted from its center, and even across this vast distance, they could see crimson lightning tearing across the sky.
“That’s a Conqueror’s Haki clash!”
“That’s the direction Oden just left in!”
“He’s fighting someone!”
“That’s some crazy aura!”
“Who the hell is it!?”
Marco and the others widened their eyes, visibly shaken by the sheer pressure radiating even from afar.
They all knew Oden’s strength. Within the Whitebeard Pirates, he was second only to Pops himself.
At their first meeting, he’d even challenged Whitebeard outright to a fight.
Though he’d been utterly crushed in the end, everyone had witnessed the raw ferocity of the samurai’s swordsmanship.
But now, someone was facing him on equal footing—on that deserted island, no less?
Judging from the clash of Conqueror’s Haki, it was a dead-even match!
“Pops!!” Marco shouted anxiously.
Whitebeard let out a long sigh, the test now clearly meaningless.
“Change course!”
———
The island.
Time itself seemed to slow.
The coin flipped in midair, its edges gleaming cold and silver as it descended.
Crackle...
Thin arcs of blue lightning danced between the fingers of that man.
Though he hadn’t moved yet, Kozuki Oden felt a kind of threat he had never known before—suffocating and absolute. Every hair on his body stood on end.
It was like a blade pressed against his pupil—or a predator’s fangs closing in.
There was no doubt in his mind—
This man had completely locked onto him.
There was no escaping the next strike.
“This feeling…”
Oden suddenly grinned.
His eyes ignited with a mad, blazing battle spirit—raging like wildfire.
“Wahahahaha! This is incredible!!”
He burst out laughing, eyes gleaming as he launched himself forward like a gale.
Armament Haki surged around him like cherry blossoms in the wind—like scarlet rivers—quickly enveloping his entire body.
In his hands, two legendary swords:
The dark and deadly Enma — one of the 21 Great Grade swords, forged by Shimotsuki Kouzaburou.
The bright and ringing Ame no Habakiri — also among the 21 Great Grade, crafted by Kozuki Sukiyaki.
Now both roared to life with a fiery aura of Armament Haki.
He raised them overhead.
“Oden Two Sword Style…”
Surging streams of Ryuo spiraled around his body like a vortex, his fighting spirit cresting to its peak.
At that exact moment, the coin reached its lowest point—
“Paradise Waterfall!!”
“Magnetic Overload — Railgun!”
Oden shot forward, blades crossed before him, slashing straight into the massive azure railgun blast.
BOOM!
A wave of force exploded outward, swallowing the island in a tide of destruction.
The land surged like an ocean—stones, dirt, and trees ripped from the earth and hurled skyward.
The island trembled.
Blinding light filled every inch of the sky.
The next moment—
Two figures burst from the smoke and wind, colliding like meteors crashing into Earth.
BANG!!
Spiraling winds exploded outward as the two men staggered back—half a step each.
A flash of cold light flickered in Darren’s eyes.
His Armament Haki was stronger than mine?
Then a direct clash with those two absurdly sharp blades was not an option.
Darren grinned savagely. As Enma slashed toward him, he extended his hand directly to meet it.
Oden was stunned.
Shhk!
Enma, clad in Ryuo, sank into Darren’s chest. Blood sprayed, staining his white shirt crimson.
It got stuck in his flesh?!
Impossible!!
That was Enma!
The blade said to cut through hell itself!
Infused with Ryuo—and yet…!
Just what kind of body was this guy made of!?
Oden’s pupils contracted sharply.
But in that split-second of shock—Darren was already in close.
“Your swordsmanship is strong. But you know what?”
His voice buzzed with bloodthirsty energy. One hand gripped Enma’s blade, embedded in his own ribcage.
His other hand—broad, blood-slick—snapped toward Oden’s face like a thundercloud.
Oden instinctively raised Ame no Habakiri to block.
But Darren had already stepped inside sword range. Oden’s angle was awkward—clumsy.
Then came the snarl, like a demon in his ear—
“Hand-to-hand. That’s true strength!!”
Oden’s mind blanked.
Darren moved at terrifying speed, utterly ignoring the gashes and blood pouring from his slashed-open hand.
He crouched. Hardened. Launched—
KNEE STRIKE. METEORIC.
BANG!!
The blow caved Oden’s body inward. Blood and seawater burst from his mouth, ribs audibly cracking.
A shockwave of white energy rippled from his spine.
A single drop of blood splashed onto Darren’s cheek. His eyes burned brighter—wilder.
He followed with a crushing elbow to the throat.
Oden’s face turned ashen—blood sprayed again.
But that was only the beginning.
Darren gave him no room to breathe.
A hurricane of close-quarters strikes rained down—ruthless, relentless, merciless.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Each hit staggered Oden. Blood mist sprayed from his skin like steam.
Every time he tried to counter—Darren stuck to him like a shadow, too close for a sword to swing.
THWACK!
A final shove knocked Oden back several paces. His hair was disheveled, his body wrecked.
But Darren didn’t wait.
His figure flickered—appeared before Oden once more, like a ghost from hell.
“In Wano… you’ve never seen martial arts like this, have you?”
With a cold sneer, Darren reached out with his blood-slick hand and clamped it onto Oden’s skull like an iron vice.
Then—he slammed it into the ground.
BOOM!!
A hundred meters around them shattered—fissures crawled across the land like spiderwebs.
Oden’s pupils went dull for a moment. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth.
Stones flew in the wind. Blood coated Darren’s body.
His hair blew wild.
His face curled into a wicked grin—dripping with rage and conquest.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 214: Chapter 116: So What If You’re the Strongest Man!?
Summary:
“Even gods bleed when will is stripped from flesh. So what if you're the strongest?”
Chapter Text
Jagged rocks exploded.
Oden’s body was smashed deep into the earth, carving out a gaping crater, with blood pouring uncontrollably from his mouth and nose.
His pupils briefly lost focus, mouth overflowing with blood, but he gritted his teeth hard, and from his eyes erupted a fierce, unyielding will.
“Enma!!”
Reversing his grip on the black demon blade, Enma, he thrust it toward Darren’s abdomen.
In that instant, the blade seemed to awaken—like a ravenous demon from the depths of hell, wildly devouring Oden’s Haki.
As the sword siphoned all the Haki from Oden’s arm, the flesh and skin withered rapidly, shriveling into a lifeless husk.
Black-red Ryuo surged and flickered along Enma’s edge, as if igniting hellish flames.
Darren’s pupils contracted.
From the aura of that sword, he sensed death’s chilling breath.
Something’s wrong with that blade…
It had nearly drained all of Oden’s Haki!
His heart lurched—Darren instinctively abandoned his offensive stance and twisted his body away.
As he turned to the side, the Marine commodore let out a muffled grunt.
The razor-sharp Enma grazed his waist, tearing through shirt and flesh, leaving a ghastly wound with blood gushing in torrents.
Had he not dodged just in time, that blade—saturated with immense Haki—would have pierced him clean through!
Though his physique had reached monstrous, inhuman levels through training, it still couldn’t compare to Kaido’s indestructible body, armored in dragon-scale toughness!
Seeing that even his all-out strike had failed to bring this man down, Kozuki Oden’s face contorted in disbelief and fury.
“That really is a fine blade.”
Darren sneered coldly, as though unfazed by the wound at his side.
Then, he raised an eyebrow.
From the corner of his eye, a blue-green figure streaked across the sea at terrifying speed.
Those strange blue flames howled toward him.
Marco?
The Whitebeard Pirates… are nearby?
“Let Oden go!!”
Marco, in his Phoenix form, roared in fury, eyes bloodshot.
From his wings, massive blue fireballs burst forth and screamed toward Darren.
Darren glanced at him coldly, eyes shifting to the distant sea—where the Moby Dick loomed like a white whale. At its prow stood a man with a white crescent moustache, locked in a gaze with Darren from afar.
A golden-haired giant gripped a massive naginata in one hand, his white captain’s coat billowing behind him. His eyes radiated an overwhelming threat as he stared Darren down.
The sheer rage and killing intent pouring from him made the sea and air quake violently.
“You brat of a Marine!! Let him go!!”
The Strongest Man in the World… Edward Newgate, Whitebeard!
“So this is a threat, then?”
Darren narrowed his eyes with a cold sneer. But behind that sneer burned a wild and defiant fire.
He stepped forward.
As he passed Enma’s blade, he grabbed Oden’s shriveled, lifeless arm.
Oden’s pupils shrank in shock.
He felt the terrifying monstrous strength coursing through Darren’s hand—his bloodshot eyes flared as he roared and struggled desperately to pull away.
At the same time, he swung Ame no Habakiri at Darren!
“Good reaction. But your Haki’s been drained dry by Enma.”
Darren grinned viciously, ignoring the descending blade.
With a sudden flex, his arm bulged with power!
As Ame no Habakiri cleaved into his shoulder, sending blood flying—
Darren’s face twisted with fury, eyes meeting Oden’s in terror, Marco’s in rage, and Whitebeard’s in fury…
He let out a taunting, defiant roar:
“So what if you’re the strongest man!?”
RIP!!
He tore Oden’s entire arm—hand and blade together—clean off!!
“No!!”
Marco shrieked, his eyes wide in agony.
Splash—!
Blood sprayed like a burst dam, gushing from Oden’s severed arm and gaping wound.
Oden clutched the hole with his remaining hand, screaming in beast-like torment.
With all his Haki drained by Enma, his mere flesh and blood was no match for Darren’s monstrous strength!
At that moment, the blue flames of the Phoenix crashed down.
BOOM—!
A violent shockwave erupted across the land, blue-green fire spreading in all directions.
The next instant—
Darren flew backward from the flames, his military boots plowing two long trenches across the ground.
He casually flung the severed arm aside. Blue arcs of electricity crackled at his fingertips.
The demon blade Enma—its body wreathed in violet-black flames—was sucked up from the ground, trembling violently as it hovered beside him.
The legendary blade said to destroy even hell itself… Enma was in his hands!!
Yet recalling how it crazily drained the user’s Haki, Darren didn’t reach for it.
Instead, he controlled the restless sword with the powers of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit.
“You bastard!!”
Smoke and flame clearing, Marco dove down, catching the gravely wounded Oden and lifting him up.
His eyes blazed with hatred as blue-green flames poured from his hands, trying to heal the gaping hole in Oden’s shoulder.
Marco had long accepted Oden as a true comrade—one of their own.
And now Darren had crippled him. Marco’s fury was boundless.
But then—
As the smoke faded, Marco finally saw Darren’s face.
“Wait!! You’re that Marine!!”
“The ‘King of the North Blue’!! The one who defeated Byrnndi World!!”
Marco gasped.
He suddenly remembered the recent meeting between Pops and Roger.
Roger himself had admitted—This very Marine had made him suffer.
“So my name’s reached the New World, has it…”
Darren’s white shirt was drenched in blood, hideous wounds all over his body. He looked terribly battered, lips pale.
“Marco… my blade… Enma…”
Oden opened his eyes with effort, his remaining bloodied hand clutching Marco’s arm, face pale with panic and despair.
Marco froze.
But before he could speak—a murderous aura swept toward him like a storm.
The Marine… hadn’t given up on killing Oden!!
Marco’s face changed dramatically.
In the reflection of his pupils, he saw—
The black-haired Marine raised his hand, eyes cold. Arcs of blue lightning leapt into the air, and the black demon blade hovering beside him began to tremble violently.
“Submit to me, Enma!!”
Darren barked in a harsh, commanding roar.
A magnetic field, nearly boiling with rage, exploded from his body.
Enma let out what seemed like a shrill, ghostly howl—its long, sharp body trembling even more violently.
Then—
In Oden’s eyes, filled with disbelief—
His own blade,
The “Hell-Destroying Demon Blade,”
Wreathed in crackling arcs of lightning,
Began to turn.
Its pitch-black tip… pointed straight at him.
“I’ll return your blade, then.”
The blood-drenched Marine commodore sneered coldly.
The magnetic field surged into a storm.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 215: Chapter 117: That's It?
Summary:
“Rage may split the seas, but pride is what survives the storm.”
Chapter Text
Zzzzzttt!!
The magnetic field exploded into chaos—so intense that even Marco felt as if the very space around Darren had begun to blur.
A pressure so dense it crushed the air blanketed nearly half the island.
Blue lightning, clearly visible to the naked eye, leapt across Enma’s blade before bursting into exaggerated force, launching the so-called "Hell-Destroying Demon Blade" like a screaming rocket.
Marco's pupils shrank, blood vessels bursting in his eyes.
Too fast!!
Within his Observation Haki, Enma, propelled by the rampaging magnetic field, broke the sound barrier almost instantly. It tore through the air, generating ripple after ripple of white shockwaves in its wake.
Its terrifying speed and power dragged the earth into a spiral trench as it tore through, leaving a devastating rift in its path.
That chilling breath of death washed over Marco. He glanced down at the gravely wounded Kozuki Oden and clenched his jaw.
This strike… couldn't be dodged!
Blue-green flames erupted around Marco’s body, rapidly forming a massive circular shield in front of him.
“Immortal Thistle!!”
Whoosh!!
Enma, wrapped in overwhelming penetrative force, crashed into the blue-flame shield. It stalled for only a brief instant—before breaking through.
Ssssht!!
One of Marco’s phoenix wings was severed, flying away in the storm, dissolving into scattered blue flames midair.
Marco’s face turned pale as blood trickled from the corner of his lips.
Even with his near-immortal regeneration, the toll still came at a heavy cost—his stamina.
That Marine’s attack had struck with such raw, unstoppable force that Marco hadn’t even had time to move his body before the blade hit.
BOOM!!
The full sonic boom finally detonated, deafening and violent.
Marco exhaled deeply.
At least he had stopped it.
But the next moment, his expression changed.
Enma—after shredding through his flame shield and wing—hadn’t slowed at all.
Instead, like a rocket, its tail continued to burst with accelerating airwaves, hissing with explosive force.
At a speed even more terrifying—
It tore through hundreds of meters of sea!!
Its target—
Marco’s eyes widened in shock.
—The Moby Dick!!
“Pops!!”
He roared in panic, his eyes red with desperation.
If this attack landed, the entire ship could be split in two in an instant!
With Enma’s cutting edge and Darren’s magnetic propulsion, Marco had no doubt about its destructive power.
Aboard the Moby Dick—
The Black Demon Blade shrieked toward them at impossible speed. Every Whitebeard pirate watching felt a chill crawl down their spines.
“Don’t you dare underestimate the Whitebeard Pirates!!!”
Diamond Jozu shouted, rushing forward to intercept.
But a broad hand gripped his shoulder.
A towering figure stepped forward and leapt from the prow of the ship.
“You cocky little Marine…”
Whitebeard’s eyes gleamed with fury and frost. His brilliant golden hair whipped in the wind, and his white captain’s coat billowed with power.
He gripped his massive naginata, now glowing with a soft white aura…
And swung with full force.
“I’m Whitebeard, you brat!!”
With a roar like rolling thunder, his blade met the oncoming Enma in midair!
BOOM!!
It was as if time froze under the weight of that strike. Everything slowed.
The demon blade shrieked and quaked, locked in place midair, its edge pulsing with black-red Haki, trembling violently.
Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed—his forearm bulged with muscle and veins as he bore down harder.
The white glow on his naginata surged outward.
Crack—crack—crack!
Like glass shattering, the very air splintered with fine white fractures.
RUMBLE…
A deep, ominous tremor erupted outward—growing into a thunderous roar in an instant.
The ocean and land shook violently, the sea boiling with monstrous bubbles. The entire ocean seemed to fall into madness!
“No way…”
Marco’s heart pounded as he looked on. Without hesitation, he hoisted Oden onto his back and, with burning blue wings, soared into the sky.
At that same moment—
RUMBLE!!!
The ocean exploded in layers—
Meters.
Tens of meters.
Hundreds!
Towering waves stacked upon each other, roaring like furious dragons, crashing toward the island.
The scale felt apocalyptic.
CRASH!!
A towering tsunami, like a collapsing galaxy, slammed into the desolate island, sweeping away everything in its path.
Massive reefs, dense forests, even rolling mountain ridges—all crushed into splinters beneath the wrath of nature.
The entire island quaked, groaning under the strain as thousand-meter-long fissures split open the earth.
RUMBLE…
Aboard the Moby Dick, the pirates stood in stunned silence, watching the island crumble and sink into a flooded wasteland.
High in the sky, Marco—barely outside the tsunami’s range—clutched Oden, his face pale and trembling as he muttered:
“Pops… is furious…”
Upon the surging sea—
Whitebeard stood at the prow, eyes narrowed as he reached for the hovering demon blade.
But just as he touched it—he grasped nothing.
Under some unseen force, Enma shot back toward the island.
Seeing this—
Marco and the others’ expressions darkened.
Could it be… that guy isn’t dead!?
That Marine is a Devil Fruit user—he should be powerless in seawater!
And then—
WHOOSH!!
A three-meter-wide black sphere burst from the churning sea.
The dense Armament Haki peeled away, revealing its sleek, silvery metallic surface.
The orb opened like a pod, twisted, and reformed into a streamlined silver hoverboard—revealing two figures within.
The metallic board soared into the sky at blinding speed.
Wind howled.
Darren stood tall, one arm wrapped around Toki’s slender waist, his defiant gaze sweeping across the sea toward the Moby Dick.
He erupted into arrogant laughter:
“Whitebeard Pirates… that’s it?”
As his voice faded, and every Whitebeard pirate’s face twisted in furious rage, the hoverboard burst into speed and vanished into the clouds.
The black Enma trailed behind like a loyal shadow.
“Don’t run!!”
Marco gritted his teeth, trying to give chase, but the pain and fatigue struck like a collapsing mountain.
The aftermath of that blow…
He was reaching his limit.
“Forget it, Marco.”
Whitebeard’s voice rumbled darkly.
His face was clouded with fury. Veins bulged on his hand still clutching the naginata.
Even if Marco could catch up—
He wouldn’t win.
“Take Oden back first.”
“Damn it!”
Marco cursed under his breath.
“Oden, how are you holding up?”
He turned to check on the man on his back.
But Oden gave no response.
He stared blankly at the horizon where the Marine had disappeared, as if his soul had gone.
He didn’t know why—
But it felt like something irreplaceable had been taken from him.
And that something…
Was not Enma.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 216: Chapter 118: He Reminded Me of Someone
Summary:
“He didn't rise because the sea allowed him—he rose because nothing could stop him.”
Chapter Text
Rumble...
The deep thunder of the ocean slowly faded into a low, distant hum.
The Moby Dick sailed across the roiling sea. Far in the distance, the once-standing island had been completely swallowed by the waves—erased from existence.
Such was the power of the "Strongest Man in the World," Whitebeard.
A full-powered strike from the Tremor-Tremor Fruit could summon tsunamis over a thousand meters tall. Small islands—like the one just destroyed—stood no chance against such a cataclysm.
On deck, chaos reigned.
“Get the medicine!!”
“Stop the bleeding!!”
“Bandage him—now!!”
...
As the ship’s doctor, Marco frantically directed the crew while tending to Oden, who lay unconscious on the deck.
From his hands flowed his signature healing flame—the resurrecting blue fire—which enveloped Oden’s battered body.
Internal trauma, massive blood loss, shattered ribs, fractured spine, blood pooling in his lungs, and a horrific open wound where his arm once was…
The more Marco examined the extent of Oden’s injuries, the grimmer his face became. A cold sweat began to form on his brow.
That Marine’s hand-to-hand combat had been ruthless—every blow merciless, calculated, and relentless. Once he’d found an opening, he had pursued it like a parasite gnawing at the bone.
Had Oden not possessed a body far stronger than most men, he would’ve died outright.
“How is he?”
Whitebeard approached. His usual overwhelming presence was tempered by the concern flickering in his eyes.
Marco’s blue flames still burned as he worked. His voice was hoarse.
“He’s out of immediate danger. But Pops… that Marine’s combat style...”
Whitebeard clenched his fists and sighed.
“That brat came from the chaos of the North Blue. He clawed his way up from the bottom… a real lunatic.”
“I used to wonder how someone like Byrnndi World could fall to a low-ranked Marine. But now I see—it wasn’t luck.”
He cast a glance at Oden’s injuries.
“His technique bears the mark of proper Marine training. I can even see traces of Zephyr’s teachings. But it’s mixed with battlefield killing techniques… ruthless, vicious. And worst of all—he’s turned his body into a cold, relentless weapon.”
Even from afar, Whitebeard had watched the entire fight using his own eyes and Observation Haki.
A body soaked in blood, yet still grinning wildly… a man who sought the opponent’s weakness in every life-or-death moment, fighting like a starving beast to the last drop of blood.
“That savage way of fighting… reminds me of someone.”
Marco paused, then asked instinctively:
“Who?”
A shadow passed through Whitebeard’s eyes.
“Shiki.”
The name chilled everyone around.
Shiki the Golden Lion.
A man who once roared like a lion across the seas, fighting alongside Whitebeard as an equal—a living legend.
A force nearly on par with Pops, wielding the Float-Float Fruit. His fleet of flying pirate ships had once been the most terrifying power in the seas.
And when Shiki went all out—he truly became the lion of his name. Unrelenting. Unhinged. Even Whitebeard himself had struggled against him.
Whitebeard exhaled deeply, gazing down at the unconscious Oden, who muttered faintly in his sleep.
“Oden is strong. If we talk purely in terms of Haki, he may even surpass that Marine.”
“But he’s from Wano—a nation sealed from the world. His life until now has been too smooth. With his physical gifts and sword talent, he may have been ‘invincible’ in that closed land.”
“But samurai of Wano specialize in swordsmanship—not hand-to-hand combat.”
“That means… he’s never truly faced a real monster from the open seas, let alone one who excels in brutal, close-quarters combat.”
“He lost… because he lacked battle experience.”
“That Marine brat saw that weakness and struck.”
At those words, many of the crew suddenly understood.
They recalled their first meeting with Oden back at Wano’s port.
His swordsmanship had let him hold his own against Whitebeard—for a moment.
But the instant Pops used raw hand-to-hand combat, Oden had been blasted a thousand meters away with a single punch.
“A brutal one, that Marine…”
Marco muttered darkly.
Even so, the fury burning in the crew’s eyes had not dimmed.
Oden was their comrade. Their family.
And no one—no matter how talented—would get away with hurting their own.
Just then, a white seabird swooped over the Moby Dick, dropping a sealed scroll onto the deck.
“Pops—latest intel,”
Vista of the Flower Swords said, picking it up and breaking the seal.
As a dominant force in the New World, the Whitebeard Pirates commanded vast territory and alliances—including dozens of affiliated pirate crews.
With that came a sprawling, complex intelligence network.
Whenever major events shook the seas, intelligence would be delivered through secure, low-tech methods like this—since Den Den Mushi communications risked interception by the World Government.
“What is it?”
Whitebeard didn’t even lift his head, eyes still fixed on Oden. He asked casually.
“P-Pops… it’s about that Marine…”
Vista’s voice cracked as he read. A chill ran down his spine.
The others looked up in surprise.
Vista’s hands trembled as he held the scroll. His face grew pale.
“Eight days ago, Marine Commodore Rogers Darren was captured by Kaido during a mission involving Douglas Bullet.”
“Seven days ago, the Marine HQ dispatched Sengoku, Garp, Zephyr, and Borsalino to execute a rescue operation in the New World.”
“One day ago… Rogers Darren broke free from the Beasts Pirates’ hidden stronghold. He destroyed most of their arms factories during his escape.”
“On the same day, the main Marine force arrived and clashed with the Beasts Pirates. Aside from Kaido, two of the All-Stars, and a handful of elites who managed to flee…”
Vista swallowed hard.
“…the rest of the Beasts Pirates—thousands of them—were completely wiped out.”
Silence fell.
The Whitebeard Pirates were all struck with collective shock.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 217: Chapter 119: Taming Enma
Summary:
“Some blades test your strength. Others test your soul.”
Chapter Text
The sunlight blazed. The shade beneath the trees was cool.
On the beach of the island, the tide rose and fell rhythmically, waves slapping against the rocky shore and piling up white spray.
Darren slowly opened his heavy eyelids, feeling as though every muscle in his body had been torn apart. A tsunami of exhaustion and pain surged over him.
“So heavy…”
He muttered, glancing down—only to see a delicate, breathtaking face nestled peacefully against his chest.
“Mr. Darren… you’ll protect me, right?”
Amatsuki Toki, curled up like a sleeping kitten, mumbled softly as she buried her head against him, her lips twitching with half-conscious murmurs.
“Mr. Darren is so handsome… No, Mr. Darren…”
“S-soft… softer…”
A faint blush spread across her pale cheeks.
Darren: “…”
What kind of dream is that, exactly…?
“Ahem.”
Darren gave a quiet cough.
He wasn’t some monk untouched by beauty.
But right now, his injuries were still severe, and his shoulder—used as a pillow—had gone numb.
“Mm…”
Toki let out a sleepy sound and slowly awoke.
Her eyes, wide and deer-like, fluttered open—only to meet Darren’s amused, half-smiling gaze.
Their eyes locked.
“Ah!!”
It was as if she’d been struck by lightning. She bolted upright from his chest, her face blazing crimson.
“Um… Mr. Darren, I’m so sorry…”
“I-I was just too tired, and I fell asleep without meaning to…”
She fumbled for words, flustered and red-faced, avoiding his gaze as she nervously twisted her slender fingers in front of her.
Darren chuckled and looked down at his torso.
The bandages were strips torn from his own shirt. Whoever tied them had no medical training—they were wrapped haphazardly and finished with a tiny, lopsided bow.
“Clearly, Miss Toki, you’re not much of a healer.”
Toki bit her lip in embarrassment, her entire face flushed.
“I-I…”
She stammered helplessly for so long that Darren couldn’t help but laugh.
“Just teasing. Thank you for taking care of me, Miss Toki.”
Toki mustered her courage and looked him in the eyes, whispering like a mosquito:
“You can just… call me Toki.”
Darren nodded.
“Alright, Toki. Then just call me Darren, too.”
He glanced around.
“Toki, how many days has it been?”
Toki exhaled gently and replied:
“One day.”
Only one?
Darren reached into his pants and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, lighting one.
As smoke curled into the sky, his thoughts drifted.
His battle with Oden—he’d been prepared for it.
What he hadn’t expected… was just how close he’d come to killing him.
To be honest, setting aside Oden’s flashy swordsmanship and Haki, his close-quarters combat was clearly underdeveloped.
Maybe that had to do with Wano’s customs.
Wano resembled a certain country from Earth during its shogunate era.
Though the shogun ruled in name, true power belonged to the regional daimyo who governed their territories.
The nation was strictly hierarchical. Loyalty to the shogun was embedded in the soul of every citizen.
The samurai—Wano’s greatest military force—were the enforcers of this rule. Practitioners of “Bushido,” they were weapons of control as much as warriors.
The world knew the samurai for their peerless swordsmanship.
But Oden had never left that closed land. He’d never fought a true hand-to-hand powerhouse.
And that gave Darren the opening he needed.
“…What a waste.”
Darren rubbed his temples and gave a wry smile.
If the Whitebeard Pirates hadn’t arrived in time, he would’ve finished the kill.
“What was a waste, Mr. Darren?”
Toki tilted her head curiously.
“That I didn’t meet you sooner.”
Darren said it without missing a beat.
Toki’s face immediately flushed. Her heart pounded wildly.
Some lines only worked with the right face.
If someone like Tokikake had said that, the result would’ve been… grotesque.
Suddenly, Darren seemed to remember something. He gestured with his hand.
Whoosh!
A streak of black light shot from the depths of the forest, cutting a deep trench into the earth with its sharp pressure, then stopped firmly before Darren.
A three-pronged tsuba, a blade etched with violet-black flame patterns—cold, merciless, and terrifyingly sharp.
Toki shuddered at the sight of it.
She couldn’t explain it, but as the sword approached, a chill filled the air. Even the warm sunlight seemed unable to pierce the oppressive cold.
“Mr. Darren, that sword…”
“Enma. One of Wano’s national treasures. A demonic weapon forged for slaughter.”
Darren narrowed his eyes, staring at the hovering black blade.
He slowly stood up and untied the bow from his bandages.
Toki panicked.
“Mr. Darren, your wounds! It’s only been a day—you shouldn’t—”
“Eh!?”
Her bright eyes widened as her lips parted in a soft “O.”
As the blood-stained bandages fell away, Darren’s sculpted physique was revealed.
Like a leopard carved of steel—his body bore savage scars, each one telling a story of battle. The muscle beneath was raw power and dominance.
The wounds on his chest and waist had already scabbed over. At the edges, fresh pink flesh was beginning to regrow.
“This…”
Toki could hardly believe her eyes.
“You’ll get used to it. My body’s just… built differently.”
Darren winked at her, then turned back to Enma, ignoring her reddened cheeks.
Enma—the blade said to cut through to the bottom of hell.
In the original story, the sword would drain its user’s Armament Haki without permission, unleashing terrifying power.
Ordinary users would die—drained dry.
Zoro had to struggle to tame it. And in the final battle, it helped crown him “King of Hell.”
In his own fight, Darren had used the Magnet-Magnet Fruit to force the blade into submission—but he hadn’t truly tamed Enma.
“Well then… let’s see what I’m made of.”
Madness sparked in Darren’s eyes.
He reached out—and gripped Enma’s hilt!
---
To be continued…
Chapter 218: Chapter 120: Victory in Endurance
Summary:
“True strength is not in the force of a single blow, but in the madness to endure beyond all reason.”
Chapter Text
The hilt of Enma was cold as ice in Darren’s grasp—as if, the very moment he touched it, he had seized a shard of frozen crystal.
Though he knew it was merely an illusion, a wave of eerie, otherworldly wails and ghostly howls suddenly rang out through the empty air around him.
The temperature dropped sharply, plunging as if to freezing point. Under the scorching sun, frigid winds howled.
Darren stared intently at the demonic blade in his hand.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds...
No reaction?
He raised an eyebrow.
But at the very moment that thought crossed his mind—
An uncanny, irresistible suction surged from the blade of Enma.
“Shit!”
Darren's pupils contracted sharply. He even swore under his breath.
To his horror, he realized that the Armament Haki in his body was flooding out, utterly beyond his control.
Without any conscious direction, the arm gripping the sword became entirely enshrouded in a stern, obsidian black—fully cloaked in Haki.
And that wasn’t the end of it.
For the moment his arm was covered, Enma gave off a shrill hum—like a blood-starved shark catching scent of its prey—and began to draw in Darren’s Haki with terrifying intensity.
Black-red flames, baleful and unnatural, coiled up the length of the blade. Darren’s arm muscles pulsed rhythmically, as though something was feeding from within.
“This sword... something’s wrong with it!”
He could feel his Armament Haki being drained away by Enma, like a tide sucked into the depths. His expression darkened.
Of all his physical attributes, his proficiency in Armament Haki was the weakest—just over thirty points. Enough to count as proficient use, no more.
After all, it had only been two or three months since he entered the training camp and began systematic Haki cultivation.
In his previous clash with Kozuki Oden, it was his lack of Haki strength that had made him wary of Oden’s slashes.
To speak frankly, Darren’s current Haki wasn’t even on par with Zoro’s when he first acquired Enma in the Wano arc.
At this rate of absorption, Enma could suck him dry in less than ten seconds.
Right now, to Darren’s eyes, the sword in his grip—wreathed in Haki and blazing with black-red flame—had become a ravenous beast.
It was sinking its fangs into his arm, drawing the very lifeblood from his body!
Five seconds passed.
Darren’s face began to pale.
Eight seconds passed.
His right arm's muscle and skin visibly shriveled, the flesh drying up like brittle tinder.
“Mr. Darren—what’s happening to you?!”
“Let go! Drop the sword!!”
Toki stared in horror at the grotesque transformation overtaking his body, unable to hold back a cry.
“Let go?”
Cold sweat beaded Darren’s forehead as he glared at Enma with unblinking eyes.
But a sudden madness flared in his gaze, and a twisted, provocative smile curled his lips.
“You want my Haki so badly? Fine. I’ll feed you ‘til you burst!!”
With a sharp breath, Darren shouted aloud.
A sudden transformation surged through his body. His withered right arm swelled with renewed vigor, a healthy sheen gleaming beneath the sweat.
But his frame had noticeably thinned. His cheekbones jutted out, sharp and pronounced.
Life Return!
A hidden art of the Rokushiki, used only by those who had mastered all six forms—granting perfect control over every fiber of the body.
Like Devil Fruit powers, the energy behind both Armament Haki and techniques flowed from stamina.
And Darren, who had forged his physique to monstrous levels, had stamina in abundance.
True, his Haki wasn’t yet as fierce as a top-tier warrior’s...
But he possessed the strongest body—and the deepest reservoir of endurance!
To put it bluntly—
His Armament Haki might lack brute force, but supported by his monstrous stamina… it was endless.
“I want to see if you can drain me dry!!”
The madness in Darren’s eyes burned brighter and wilder.
That was the kind of man he was. A madman who never accepted defeat.
You punched him? He’d take your life.
It was that very tenacity—that vicious, unyielding fire—that let him survive hellish training others would’ve collapsed under. That let him kill enemies others couldn’t even face.
And now, man and blade were locked in fierce contest.
Ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty...
As time wore on,
The ghostly aura blazing from Enma thickened. Its screeching wails shifted—from shrill, to indignant, to helpless... and finally, to something almost euphoric.
The blade itself seemed to burn, turning blood-red. The ghostly aura flared up like a towering torch.
Meanwhile—
Darren’s flesh continued to shrink. His bones jutted out sharply, his features like those of a man who hadn’t seen water in ten days.
His skin turned deathly pale, his lips cracked and dry. He looked utterly spent.
But his eyes—those eyes—burned brighter than ever, lit with a crazed fire deep within their hollow sockets.
Forty seconds.
Fifty seconds.
Time ticked on. But to Darren, those scant seconds stretched like a lifetime in hell—pure torment.
Until finally—
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz!
The blade in his hands began to tremble violently, as if reaching some final threshold.
But this tremor was different—no longer resistance or rage.
It was a tremble born of climax. Of a dam about to burst.
Black-purple flames surged high upon the raised blade, ghostlight blazing with abandon.
“So you’ve finally hit your limit!”
Darren’s eyes flashed with unprecedented brilliance as he slashed down—hard.
Though he’d fought countless sword masters, he himself had never studied swordsmanship. He didn’t know a single technique.
This cut was pure instinct—guided by Enma itself.
To Toki’s eyes, the motion looked awkward and clumsy, like a child swinging a stick in play.
But that careless slash—
Silenced the world.
Something unseen seemed to split the air.
Toki's eyes widened in disbelief.
Then—
Shhhhk!!
BOOM!!
A towering pillar of seawater—over a hundred meters high—split to either side and shot into the sky.
A colossal trench tore outward from Darren’s feet, stretching to the edge of sight, so deep the brown seabed faintly showed.
The sea... had split.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 219: Chapter 121: Flying… Flying Sword?
Summary:
“Power does not lie in following the path laid by others—but in carving your own, even if it flies against the sword.”
Chapter Text
Gulp…
As the sea before her remained “split” for a full three seconds before slowly folding back together, Toki involuntarily swallowed hard, her lips parted slightly in astonishment.
“What… kind of sword technique was that…?”
Unable to contain her awe, she turned her head. Seeing Darren beside her—gasping for air, his face withered and pale—she hurried forward with concern, supporting him by the arm.
“That sword technique’s called ‘Brute Force Makes Miracles.’”
Darren managed a weak tug at the corner of his mouth. With barely any strength left, he tossed the black demonic blade aside and collapsed onto the ground, panting like a fish out of water.
Beads of sweat, thick as beans, streamed down from his forehead, body, and arms. His lips were dry and tinged with a bluish-purple hue. A thin trace of blood slowly oozed from the corner of his mouth.
“Mr. Darren… you're coughing blood…”
“I’m fine. Just overexerted myself.”
Darren’s trembling fingers lit a cigarette, which he placed between his lips and took a long, deep drag.
An unprecedented wave of weakness surged from every cell and muscle in his body. He could barely even stay upright.
It was worse than pulling a ten-day all-nighter while partying nonstop.
He instinctively checked his physical data.
Physique: 9.361 (78.712)
Strength: 7.11 (70.001)
Speed: 8.099 (70.391)
Armament Haki: 0 (33.012)
Conqueror’s Haki: 51.001
Darren: …
Dark lines appeared across his forehead.
The numbers in parentheses represented his normal stats when healthy. The numbers before them—his current state.
Every stat had plummeted to unprecedented lows… except for Conqueror’s Haki, which remained unchanged.
And Armament Haki? That had dropped straight to zero!
To put it simply—he had been completely drained.
With that thought, Darren glanced at Enma lying on the ground, his eye twitching slightly.
That sword… was terrifying.
As for the destructive power of that slash he’d just unleashed—he wasn’t all that surprised.
After devouring so much of his Haki and nearly exhausting all of his stamina, it was only natural that Enma had exploded with a strike on the level of a top-tier swordsman.
“It’s just… kind of a waste.”
Darren exhaled smoke and swept back his messy hair.
After all, he wasn’t a swordsman. He didn’t know the first thing about sword techniques.
To burn through that much Haki and stamina just to slice open the sea… was a terrible return on investment.
This brought him to the question of energy efficiency.
For instance, if the goal was to destroy a Marine warship—Darren could do that with his bare hands, without even using Haki, and still put on a dramatic display of brute force.
But if he used a sword? He’d have to dump tons of Haki into it and swing like he was hauling firewood just to get the same result.
True swordsmen, by contrast, could channel the same amount of Haki—and produce exponentially greater results.
That was the essence of swordsmanship.
“But… now that I’ve got a blade like Enma, maybe I should consider picking up sword training?”
The thought had barely formed before Darren shook his head and dismissed it.
He had very little aptitude for swordsmanship. That had been proven multiple times back in North Blue.
As Sakazuki once said—if Darren tried to walk the path of the sword, it would be “nothing but a waste of time.”
And Darren trusted Sakazuki’s judgment.
Before receiving the Magma-Magma Fruit, Sakazuki had been a powerful swordsman in his own right.
His assessments were never wrong.
Darren’s true strength lay in the deadliest kind of close-quarters combat.
That fact had been made clear through years of blood-soaked experience—and over time, he’d developed his own personal style of martial technique.
To abandon that now for swordsmanship would be the height of stupidity.
Still…
Darren waved a finger—and a faint arc of electricity crackled between his fingertips.
Enma slowly rose from the ground and hovered in the air.
Maybe it was an illusion, but Darren felt like, after that intense “release,” Enma’s resistance and hostility toward him had lessened slightly.
He stared at the “Hell-Destroying Demon Blade” before him. A sly, playful grin tugged at his lips.
“Who says you have to be a swordsman to wield a sword?”
He curled his finger.
Whoosh!
Enma flashed into motion—a streak of black light that blasted through the air and shot into the distant forest.
The demonic blade became a blur of shadow, piercing through the woods in a frenzy, manifesting as countless overlapping sword strikes.
A second later—
Enma returned, hovering quietly at Darren’s side.
Then—
In Toki’s widening eyes, a strange sound echoed from deep within the trees.
On the trunks of towering ancient trees—so wide that several men together couldn’t encircle one—immaculate slicing marks appeared. The top halves of the trees slowly slid along the cuts, tilted, and then crashed down with groaning thunder!
A cloud of dust burst into the air. Smoke and debris surged outward in a storm.
And before them—
The forest within a hundred meters had been completely leveled, reduced to nothing but smooth, clean-cut stumps still rooted in the earth.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Darren couldn’t help but burst into triumphant laughter.
I’m not training swordsmanship…
I’m training flying sword arts, damn it!!
The thrill surged in his chest, momentarily dispelling the weakness weighing on his limbs.
He leaned back, letting his body sink into the sun-scorched beach. A sea breeze danced over his skin. Sunlight bathed his face. And a smirk curved his lips.
His idea had been right all along.
If his strike on the Moby Dick had been a moment of spontaneous brilliance, then this experiment had confirmed his theory.
It worked.
Compared to using ordinary metal or coins, switching to a legendary sword had boosted the power of his metal manipulation attacks by at least fivefold.
Of course, a big part of that came from Enma being one of the 21 Great Grade Blades, carrying innate sharpness and penetrating power.
After all, it was the very blade that had once wounded Kaido.
If he’d used a standard-issue Marine saber, the result would’ve been nowhere near the same.
And if he coated such a blade with Armament Haki—the power could rise even further.
The only downside to this “Magnetic Sword Control” was its high demands on Devil Fruit mastery—and the strain it placed on stamina. Darren had to constantly and precisely control the sword’s flight path and edge orientation.
But was that really a flaw of the magnetic sword technique?
No.
That was Darren’s flaw!
A blaze of madness ignited in his eyes.
And this was only Enma!
What if…
What if he could collect all twenty-one of the Great Grade Blades? No—what if he could lay his hands on the Supreme Grade Twelve?
Just picture it.
With a simple raise of his hands—
Dozens of legendary blades hovered behind him in the air.
All cloaked in Armament Haki, turned jet black, and then hurled forward by a violent magnetic field—at speeds several times the sound barrier...
“Shit!”
“If I’d known, I’d have gone all out and taken that Ame no Habakiri too!”
Darren’s eyes burned red as he grit his teeth in frustration.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 220: Chapter 122: Refining a Combat System
Summary:
“Some are born to conquer seas. Others carve power through sweat, pain, and will—until the sea itself bows to them.”
Chapter Text
Of course… it was only a thought.
Severing one of Kozuki Oden’s arms and seizing Enma had already been a herculean feat.
Especially with Marco—the wielder of the Mythical Zoan, Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Phoenix—guarding him closely, and Edward Newgate, the “Strongest Man in the World,” watching from afar with predatory eyes.
That “invincible” samurai might not yet have reached Admiral-level strength… but he was close.
Had he not lacked real experience battling physical combat specialists, Darren might never have gotten the upper hand.
And even now, Oden was still far from the peak state he would later reach—where, with a single slash, he’d cleave the mighty Kaido.
It was clear now—Oden’s true leap in power came during his time with the Whitebeard Pirates and later, the Roger Pirates.
Especially during the final voyage around the Grand Line with the Roger Pirates—he learned to infuse Conqueror’s Haki into his attacks. That milestone had pushed him into Admiral-level combat power, one of the few peak-tier warriors even Kaido acknowledged.
“Next time we meet… it won’t be this easy,”
Darren murmured under his breath, clenching his fist instinctively.
In raw talent alone, Kozuki Oden—who stirred the world from the moment he was born—surpassed him without question.
Like one of those so-called “chosen ones,” Oda had clearly written Oden as a larger-than-life legend.
At under one year old, he hurled his nursemaid across the room.
By two, while other toddlers were still tottering, he caught two rabbits barehanded—his leg strength astonishing.
At four, while other children played with mud, he was lifting boulders to crush bears.
And by six, his body had matured enough to frequent the red-light district…
That kind of physical talent wasn’t quite on par with Charlotte Linlin, the “Natural Calamity,” but it was extraordinary nonetheless.
An unmatched natural gift.
And after this defeat, Oden would certainly take it to heart. Even if he didn’t reflect on it himself, with Whitebeard’s insight, he’d be warned—and trained—to patch the gap.
Which meant, next time they crossed paths, he’d be an even more formidable threat.
As for losing an arm? That wouldn’t hold Oden back much. In this ocean, missing limbs were practically a badge of honor.
True powerhouses learned to fight as if nothing had been lost.
“But even so… next time, Oden—will you still have the nerve to raise your blade against me?”
Darren’s lips curled into a faint grin.
Oden was growing. But he himself was not idle either.
More importantly…
Darren’s gaze fell upon the floating Enma before him. His smile deepened.
After everything, he had begun to forge a combat system all his own.
Close-range slaughter, powered by monstrous physique, Haki, and inhuman martial skill;
Magnetic sword control—for mid to long-range and area-of-effect attacks.
The two facets complemented each other, filling in the gaps where his Devil Fruit lacked direct offense.
Now all he had to do was keep training, steadily improving his Haki, and collect more famed blades to integrate into his magnetic arsenal…
At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before he reached Admiral-level strength.
Gurgle…
As Darren contemplated his future, a rumbling stomach cut through the silence.
He looked up and saw Toki’s face flushing scarlet. He couldn’t help but smile softly.
“My apologies, Toki. I’ve been careless.”
“You’ve spent the whole day looking after me… You must be starving.”
Toki bit her lower lip lightly, then shook her head.
“I-I’m fine…”
Gurgle…
Her traitorous stomach betrayed her, and color flushed even her translucent earlobes.
Darren chuckled.
He gently flicked his finger.
With a flash, Enma shot forward, vanishing beneath the sea’s surface without even a splash.
“Mr. Darren… what are you doing?”
Toki’s eyes widened with curiosity.
Before she could finish the question, Enma burst back out of the water—hovering before Darren, several silver-scaled fish skewered along its blade. Their tails twitched, catching the sunlight in dazzling arcs.
“This… is that even possible?”
Toki covered her mouth in wonder.
Wasn’t this blade supposed to be one of the world’s greatest treasures?
Darren casually picked up a few stones and built a campfire, smiling as he asked,
“Sashimi or grilled?”
Toki tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Either is fine.”
“Then we’ll have both.”
From the silver hoverboard planted in the sand, Darren separated two portions of metal and shaped them into plates and chopsticks.
Under Toki’s astonished gaze, he deftly cleaned and gutted the fish. Two were skewered and placed over the fire, while the other two were expertly sliced into thin sashimi.
There weren’t any seasonings—but in this world, with no strange radiation or pollutants, the sea provided pristine, high-quality seafood. With ingredients like these, the simplest preparations brought out their purest flavors.
“Your meal, my lady.”
Darren presented the grilled fish and sashimi with a graceful flourish—like a five-star chef—which made Toki giggle.
“Thank you, Chef Darren.”
Smiling, she tidied the hem of her kimono and kneeled properly across from him with all the grace of a noble daughter raised in refinement.
She reached out her pale, slender hand, picked up her chopsticks, and brought a bite of grilled fish to her mouth.
Her eyes narrowed in satisfaction as she chewed gently.
“Mmm… it’s delicious.”
In contrast to her poise and grace, Darren ate like a starving beast—scooping several slices of sashimi at once and swallowing them whole with barely a chew.
His body, desperately depleted, needed energy fast.
After downing an entire fish, a faint flush of color returned to his face, lifting him from his corpse-like pallor.
He exhaled slowly, then asked offhandedly,
“Toki… you’re not afraid of me?”
Toki’s gaze was gentle as she looked at the Marine commodore before her. She shook her head with a smile.
“You mean… the way you fought those pirates earlier?”
“You were protecting me. Why would I ever be afraid?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 221: Chapter 123: Hero vs Disgrace
Summary:
"History remembers heroes. But legends—those are forged in disgrace.”
Chapter Text
“And besides, weren’t those people pirates? I’ve never had much fondness for pirates…”
Toki lightly bit the tip of her chopsticks, her gaze calm as she looked at Darren.
Over the course of 800 years—crossing through countless epochs—she had seen sights most people couldn’t dream of in a dozen lifetimes.
The rise and fall of nations. The shifting tides of history. Seas swelling and sinking, civilizations crumbling and reborn. Though times changed, one truth remained constant: in every era, pirates were synonymous with chaos and plunder.
Let alone that, in this era—mere days after her arrival—she had nearly been sold into slavery by pirate traffickers.
With all that in mind, it was only natural that Toki harbored no goodwill toward pirates.
She’s got a solid moral compass, Darren thought, eyes brightening slightly as he marveled inwardly.
He had been a little worried—concerned that the time-displaced nature of this worldline might make Toki feel differently about Oden.
He’d braced himself to spend time persuading her.
But it turned out she was more clearheaded than he’d hoped. That saved him quite a bit of trouble.
“So you’re not afraid I might be a bad person, Toki?”
Darren smiled.
“No, I’m not, Mr. Darren.”
Toki smiled softly, then lowered her gaze shyly.
“And besides… someone as handsome as you couldn’t possibly be a bad guy.”
Darren blinked.
Then he let out a wry chuckle.
That… wasn’t a reason he’d expected.
But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
On one side: a tall, composed Marine officer who had rescued her from traffickers.
On the other: a pirate swollen like a pig, oafish and beastly in his recklessness.
Whom to trust was obvious.
“But, Mr. Darren… that man who called himself Kozuki Oden—wasn’t he wearing clothing from Wano Country?”
Toki suddenly recalled something and asked.
“You’ve been holding that question in for a while now, haven’t you, Toki?”
Darren gave her a knowing glance.
Toki’s cheeks flushed as she clenched her fists and nodded sheepishly.
“Yes.”
After all, her mission through time was to reach the future of Wano. Seeing someone dressed in traditional samurai garb—it was only natural for her to be curious.
But until now, she’d kept silent. Something about Darren’s attitude toward Oden had felt hostile. She hadn’t dared ask.
Now, with their growing closeness, and the conversation flowing easily, she finally found the courage to voice the question that had weighed on her heart.
To her surprise, Darren smiled and answered her directly.
“That’s right. He’s from Wano.”
He didn’t intend to lie to her.
Toki, though gentle on the surface, had a resilient heart and keen mind.
Too many secrets would erode her trust—she might not say anything outwardly, but inside, the damage would be done.
Better to speak plainly.
After all, if there’s one truth universal across worlds, it’s this:
Women hate being lied to.
As a man, you must either be fully honest—or lie with absolute commitment.
But Darren had no desire to deceive a woman he liked.
“Kozuki Oden is heir to the Kozuki Clan, Daimyo of Kuri in Wano, born under an extraordinary star, and blessed with immense strength.”
Darren’s smile was open as he explained patiently:
“He’s a man brimming with a spirit of adventure. From a young age, he scorned worldly rules, had little interest in fame, fortune, or power. What he longed for most was to set sail—to see the vastness of the world beyond his borders.”
“But like I mentioned before, Wano Country has been under a strict isolationist policy for years. Almost no contact with the outside world, and its citizens are strictly forbidden to leave.”
“So Oden made his choice. He abandoned his family, his title, his people—even his country. And he boarded Whitebeard’s ship, becoming a freewheeling pirate.”
“In short, Kozuki Oden is an uninhibited, brash, and unconventional man. In Wano, those who hate him do so with venom. And those who admire him… they worship him as a hero touched by the divine.”
“And I’m guessing you figured it out too—he appeared on that island because he heard your call. He was coming to rescue you.”
As he said this, Darren caught a subtle flicker in Toki’s eyes.
Just as he’d thought.
“Well, now that we’ve talked about the ‘Invincible Hero of the World,’ Kozuki Oden, let’s talk about me.”
Darren let out a carefree laugh and lit a cigarette.
The sea breeze carried the smoke across his face as he—rarely—opened up about his past.
“I was born in the most chaotic of the Four Blues—North Blue. I didn’t have any special gifts. Started as a common enlisted Marine, and climbed my way up—step by bloody step.”
“To gain strength, I trained harder than anyone—often until I vomited blood.”
“For military merits and promotion, I didn’t hesitate to use any method against pirates or enemies.”
“I once wiped out an entire mafia family of thousands in a single night. I’ve used underhanded methods to assassinate nobles and officials who opposed me.”
“Beyond my public rank, I control vast territories of underground influence through countless channels.”
“My illegal income is uncountable. And the number of women I’ve slept with? I honestly don’t even remember.”
“The nobles tremble under my shadow. Pirates are nearly extinct in the waters I govern. And strangely enough… under my rule, crime rates are shockingly low.”
“I’m cruel. Greedy. Ruthless. I never spare an enemy. But I never betray my friends either.”
By the seaside, beside a campfire—
The Marine commodore’s face was wreathed in smoke. And in his deep-set eyes, memories stirred.
The world around them was eerily silent.
Only the sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed in the background.
“Toki, you’ll soon come to understand—me, Rogers Darren… I’m no hero.”
“Despite my titles, my victories, my so-called ‘monster’ reputation—most of the world calls me one thing behind closed doors.”
“The greatest disgrace in Marine.”
He let out a bitter chuckle and turned toward the woman kneeling beside him, quiet and composed in her kimono.
Smiling softly, he asked:
“So… do you regret it?”
“Not choosing that lauded ‘hero,’ Kozuki Oden—and instead placing your trust in me, a disgrace?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 222: Chapter 124: I’m Actually This Impressive?
Summary:
“Some truths feel like shame. Until someone calls them strength.”
Chapter Text
The sea breeze swept away the lingering smoke from Darren’s cigarette. His voice faded into the sound of the waves.
He held a calm smile, eyes fixed on Toki’s breathtaking face, waiting for her answer.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then, to Darren’s mild surprise, a soft smile slowly bloomed on Toki’s face.
“No, Mr. Darren. I don’t regret it.”
Her eyes lit up with brilliance, staring straight into his.
“My father once told me, a true man stands tall not because he hides his shame, but because he owns it.”
“The fact that you could say to me, so plainly, ‘I’m not a good man’—that alone proves your honesty and the openness in your heart.”
“To praise your enemies, to belittle yourself, to dare to admit your faults and flaws… That is what makes you a true hero.”
Her voice rang with clarity and conviction, allowing no room for doubt.
Darren was momentarily stunned.
Wait, what?
He stared into Toki’s eyes, trying to discern whether she was joking.
Darren: ???
Toki: (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
Darren: …
His mouth twitched slightly, expression frozen for a beat.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to maintain composure and dignity, and muttered:
“Hm. You make a good point.”
But inside…
A herd of a thousand wild donkeys thundered through his brain.
Me?!
A true hero?!
Are you sure you’re not confused?!
Even I want to laugh hearing that!
And yet, looking at Toki’s earnest face—radiating such trust and certainty—he couldn’t bring himself to say a single word in protest.
Honestly… I didn’t even know I was this great!
Say what you will, the people of Wano… they definitely think in mysterious ways.
Still—less explaining to do.
“Alright, then.”
Darren rubbed his temples in resignation and gave a helpless smile, as if saying “so, you saw right through me”.
“You’ve got quite the imagination. But fine—I’ll do my best to help you get back to Wano.”
Toki shook her head gently, smiling with warmth.
“It’s alright, Mr. Darren.”
Her gaze shimmered like starlight.
“With Wano’s situation so tense, I imagine even the Marines can’t easily interfere, right?”
“Please—continue on your original path. I’m not in a rush.”
Now, look at that.
What a kind, thoughtful girl!
Even Darren—who prided himself on being ruthless, aloof, and cold-blooded—was moved by her understanding.
“Wano’s situation might not be as troublesome as we think… and while the Marines can’t intervene officially, that doesn’t mean I can’t.”
Darren thought for a moment, then smiled slowly.
Since Oden had set sail, that meant there was no one left in Wano strong enough to stop him.
As for Oden’s retainers—the so-called “Nine Red Scabbards” of legend—he wasn’t worried in the slightest.
Which meant… perhaps it was time to set things in motion.
He had long coveted Wano’s vast Seastone resources.
If he could bring Wano under his control, he’d gain a monopoly on the world’s entire supply.
And beyond its mineral wealth, Wano’s ancient samurai families preserved rare and powerful legacies—
Like the Kozuki Clan’s secrets of Poneglyph carving and reading.
Or the Shimotsuki Clan’s sword-forging techniques.
The Marines had never dared touch Wano—not because of strength, but because of politics.
The World Government had long maintained a cooperative relationship with Wano due to its resources.
An open military invasion by the Marines would contradict their supposed values of “justice” and “order.”
It would also provoke unnecessary tension with the World Government.
To the Marines, Wano was a land too hot to hold.
But Darren wasn’t the Marines.
He didn’t care for political posturing.
And if the World Government came knocking later—well, by then, he’d be strong enough to face them.
It’s just a matter of negotiation. Of sharing the spoils.
That? He was good at.
“The only thing I’m unsure of… is whether Kaido’s forces have made it into Wano yet.”
Darren murmured with a frown.
His priority now was to reconnect with the main Marine force, gather intelligence, recover from his injuries, and return to peak condition—before acting further in Wano.
“They should be here by now…”
He’d already left a message with HQ at the hotel, including his coordinates.
Even at their slowest, the Marines should have found him by now.
Just then, Toki’s delighted voice rang out:
“Mr. Darren—look!”
“That looks like a Marine ship!”
As soon as she spoke—
A brilliant light suddenly bloomed in the air behind Darren.
Golden photons gathered from every direction, coalescing into the tall figure of a man.
Striped yellow-and-white suit. Round cap on his head. A crisp, snow-white coat fluttered in the sea breeze.
Seeing his face, Toki flinched and took two steps back—hiding behind Darren.
This guy… looked really sleazy.
“Huh?”
The man pushed up his oversized sunglasses with one finger, gave Toki a strange look, then rubbed his stubbled chin with amusement.
“Well, well… after all that effort scouring the seas for you—turns out you were just relaxing here, on vacation… Commodore Darren.”
“I haven’t had a single minute of rest, you know…”
Darren smiled. Somehow, that lazy, slow voice filled him with a strange sense of comfort.
“And yet… when I was imprisoned by Kaido, I kept imagining you bursting in from the sky to rescue me.”
He turned with a grin, facing that ever-infuriating face.
“Too bad. You’re late as always, Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
Borsalino shrugged helplessly.
“Well, what can I say? You never struck me as someone who needed rescuing.”
“And look—you proved me right.”
“Oh, almost forgot…”
“Thanks to your actions and the intel you provided—the Beasts Pirates’ main base has been completely wiped out.”
“Kaido himself and a few others escaped, but aside from them…”
“The entire crew has been destroyed.”
He grinned broadly.
“Congratulations, Rear Admiral Darren.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 223: Chapter 125: The Three Old Men Without Mercy
Summary:
“When the young blaze too bright, the legends rise—not to stop them, but to make sure they burn the right things.”
Chapter Text
“Kaido’s main base… destroyed?”
Darren froze the moment he heard the news.
As for being promoted from Commodore to Rear Admiral? He didn’t really care.
Sure, navigating politics had its place—but in this sea, strength ruled above all. With his power, rank was merely a matter of time.
“You don’t look particularly thrilled about it…”
Borsalino eyed Darren’s contemplative expression with a lazy smile.
“Going from Captain to Rear Admiral in such a short time… that’s a record-breaking triple promotion. Even caught up to me, huh?”
He scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Bet Sakazuki’s got a nice headache right now…”
But Darren’s brow remained furrowed.
“No, Borsalino. What I’m thinking is… if the base was destroyed and its coordinates exposed, where the hell did Kaido go?”
Borsalino shrugged with feigned innocence.
“Who knows? Kaido’s a flying Mythical Beast, right? If he wants to disappear… who in this ocean could ever find him?”
Darren’s brow twitched.
A fleeting thought flitted through his mind—but it vanished before he could grasp it.
“Though back when he was with the Rocks Pirates… I heard Kaido and Big Mom were pretty close.”
Borsalino scratched his head.
“Maybe he ran to her for help?”
“Unlikely.”
Darren shook his head.
Kaido wasn’t the kind to live under anyone else’s heel.
And if those two monsters ever met… the island wouldn’t survive the reunion.
“Unless…”
He turned toward Borsalino—only to pause mid-sentence.
“…Why are you smiling?”
Borsalino raised both hands in mock surrender.
“Who, me? I’m not smiling.”
But that insufferable grin—like he was watching a comedy—was unmistakable.
Darren felt a cold sweat creep down his back. Something was coming.
“You’re definitely smiling!”
“Well, well… have you figured out how you’re going to explain your little disappearance yet?”
Borsalino smirked and pointed toward the shore.
Darren followed his finger—and nearly bolted on the spot.
A row of massive Marine battleships had docked. From them, towering figures leapt to the shore, storming toward him with thunderous strides.
Was it just his imagination—or did their eyes… glow red?
His lip twitched uncontrollably.
“…No way…”
But before the words left his lips, thunderous roars boomed across the beach.
“Darren, you little brat! Where the hell have you been!? If you’re alive, send a damn message!!”
“We’ve scoured dozens of islands looking for you, you punk!!”
Darren turned pale as he saw Sengoku, Zephyr, and Garp striding toward him, cracking knuckles and radiating pure fury.
For the first time in his life, he felt panic rise.
“Um… Admiral Sengoku, Instructor Zephyr, Vice Admiral Garp…”
“Please let me defend—uh, I mean, explain myself…”
But the three fuming veterans weren’t in the mood for excuses. White steam puffed from their noses as they loomed over him.
Three massive fists whooshed through the air—growing larger in Darren’s vision by the second.
These damn geezers—where’s their sense of justice!?
In desperation, a spark of genius flashed in Darren’s mind. He blurted out:
“I… I fought the Whitebeard Pirates!!”
Boom!
All three fists halted inches from his face, wind pressure rippling across his skin.
“…You what?”
Zephyr’s eyes bulged.
“He said he fought the Whitebeard Pirates!”
Garp shouted straight into Zephyr’s ear.
“I’m not deaf, damn it! Why’re you yelling!?”
Zephyr snapped, veins popping on his forehead.
“Well, you were the one repeating yourself—”
Garp muttered, picking his nose in protest.
Zephyr clenched his fists: ヽ(#`Д′)?
Sengoku rubbed his temples in exasperation, ignoring the squabbling buffoons beside him. His eyes locked on Darren.
“Darren… you’re not joking, are you?”
A bead of cold sweat rolled down Darren’s temple.
He nodded carefully.
With how battered his body still was, he couldn’t afford another beatdown.
Especially not from Garp or Zephyr—those two never held back.
One good thrashing and he’d need another full day just to recover.
“Yes. It was… purely by chance.”
Seeing the concern beneath their anger—how they’d dropped everything and come across the seas to find him—Darren softened.
Their exhaustion, the dust on their cloaks—it was clear how much they cared.
So he answered honestly:
“I… dislocated the arm of one of Whitebeard’s sworn brothers. Nearly finished him off.”
“Then I launched an attack on the Moby Dick to buy time for retreat—but it was blocked.”
“…And then Whitebeard got pissed.”
“He used his Tremor-Tremor powers and sunk an entire island beneath a tsunami.”
“I barely made it out with my life.”
Darren flashed a proud grin at the stunned trio.
Darren: b( ̄▽ ̄)d
Sengoku: …
Zephyr: …
Garp: …
Next second—
“You brat! You just had to poke the bear, didn’t you!?”
Sengoku exploded in rage.
Whitebeard! The most overprotective, most dangerous pirate emperor in the New World!
“And you two—Zephyr, Garp—SHUT UP! Stop laughing!!”
Sengoku turned, veins bulging, as Zephyr and Garp stood with arms crossed, laughing uproariously.
Zephyr: “Hahaha! That’s my student!”
Garp: “Bwahaha! That’s the adjutant I picked!”
Sengoku: …
He clenched his teeth.
“…First Byrnndi World. Then Roger. Then Kaido. Now Whitebeard!?”
He buried his face in his hands and glared red-eyed at Darren.
“Are you just… planning to antagonize every legendary pirate!?”
“So what’s next!? Big Mom? Ochoku? John? Golden Lion!?”
Darren paused to think.
“…Hmm… maybe…”
“YOU’RE ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT!?!?”
Sengoku’s roar shook the entire island.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 224: Chapter 126: Youth Needs Restraint
Summary:
“Strength earns rank. But how you hold it—that’s what makes you family.”
Chapter Text
A rusted, colossal anchor rose slowly from the water, dripping seafoam in shimmering arcs as it broke the surface—its chain clattering through the air with a heavy, grinding rhythm.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the battleships, their silhouettes stretching far into the golden horizon.
After a rather undignified shouting match with Zephyr, Sengoku had finally wrestled away custody of Darren.
He had Darren transferred to the cabin aboard his own Marine battleship, ordered the attending doctor to treat his injuries, and then turned his head to call out toward the distinctive dog-headed battleship bobbing beside them.
“Hey, Garp. You sure you’re not heading back to HQ?”
Garp waved a hand carelessly, cheeks stuffed with doughnuts, a wide grin splitting his face.
“Nah. Just got word—turns out that kid Douglas Bullet, the one you and Sakazuki were hunting? He’s joined the Roger Pirates.”
“I’d better look into it. Can’t have Roger getting any stronger now, can we?”
At those words, Sengoku blinked.
Right. He’d nearly forgotten about that.
Douglas Bullet—the same boy who’d been captured alongside Darren by Kaido. Yet when they’d rescued Darren, Bullet had been nowhere to be found.
He’d need to interrogate that brat later.
“Alright. Be careful out there,” Sengoku replied.
He didn’t try to talk Garp out of it.
As comrades of many campaigns, he knew better than anyone—once Garp set his mind to something, there was no changing it.
And honestly, Roger’s strength… among all Marines, only Garp could realistically counter him.
Sengoku still didn’t measure up. Steel Bone Kong might, but the old man had long since stepped away from the front lines.
As Garp’s dog-headed battleship sailed off into the golden light, leaving a long wake behind it, Sengoku let out a weary breath.
“Return to headquarters.”
He gave the order casually, turning with an exaggerated roll of his eyes toward Zephyr, who had taken up residence uninvited aboard his ship.
“I swear, Zephyr, don’t you have your own battleship? What are you doing on mine?”
Zephyr stood with arms crossed, glaring suspiciously.
“Hmph. Like hell I’m falling for that trick. You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can bond with Darren in private.”
Veins popped on Sengoku’s forehead.
“I have a medical team onboard, damn it! And more comfortable cabins!”
Zephyr sniffed derisively.
“Yeah, yeah. We get it. Admiral-level luxuries. No need to show off.”
Sengoku: …
You were an admiral too! You’re the one who stepped down—of course your ship got downgraded! What do you want from me!?
One of his temples twitched violently.
Everyone around him was either irresponsible or retired. All the heavy lifting got dumped on him.
When nothing goes wrong, he’s “The Resourceful General.” When things blow up? Suddenly he’s just “the idiot in charge.”
Sengoku felt utterly exhausted.
Honestly, let it all burn.
Choosing to ignore Zephyr—who, after too many days spent goofing off with Garp, was now half-corrupted—Sengoku stormed toward the cabin in a huff.
Zephyr, of course, followed close behind.
“How is Darren’s condition?”
Inside the cabin, Sengoku glanced first at the IV-drip-hung figure of the sleeping Marine, then at the delicate girl in a kimono seated quietly at his bedside, never leaving his side. Finally, his eyes turned to the attending physician.
“Rear Admiral Darren’s constitution is unlike anything I’ve seen in all my decades of practice,” the bespectacled doctor murmured with admiration.
“Every ten minutes or so, his injuries show significant improvement. It’s borderline miraculous.”
He looked at Darren like one would a priceless, living artifact.
“You needn’t worry, Admiral. At this rate, he’ll make a full recovery in a day or two.”
Sengoku and Zephyr both sighed in relief.
From being tortured by Kaido, to barely escaping the Beasts Pirates, and finally clashing with Whitebeard himself—it was a miracle the brat had survived at all.
What Darren had endured in under ten days, most people wouldn’t survive in a lifetime.
And while they trusted his strength, even they had feared there might be lasting damage.
“…But what’s with his current state?”
Zephyr frowned at Darren’s hollowed cheeks and withered frame.
Sengoku mirrored the concern.
The doctor answered calmly:
“This is the result of extreme physical and mental overexertion.”
He adjusted his glasses and continued carefully.
“I’ve already administered nutrient injections. With proper rest, he should stabilize within a few days.”
…Overexertion?
Sengoku and Zephyr exchanged glances.
“That’s impossible,” Zephyr protested.
“I know that boy’s body better than anyone. He could drag a warship with his bare hands and sprint ten kilometers with a ton on his back without breaking a sweat.”
“That kind of endurance doesn’t just dry up.”
Sengoku nodded in agreement.
He’d witnessed Darren’s absurd stamina firsthand in the North Blue.
Noble receptions, endless banquets, night after night of drinking—yet Darren never even looked hungover. Always a cigarette in one hand, liquor in the other.
Fatigue? Not a trace.
“Could it be hidden injuries from the prison or battle?”
He asked with a trace of worry.
The doctor hesitated.
“Normally, no. This isn’t the result of combat.”
“Then what is it?” Zephyr pressed.
The doctor hesitated a second time… then mumbled awkwardly:
“…Excessive indulgence.”
Sengoku: …
Zephyr: …
They slowly turned toward the soft, elegant girl at Darren’s bedside.
Toki blinked at the sudden stares. Confused at first—then her face went crimson as the realization hit her.
“I—I didn’t!”
She leapt to her feet, flustered beyond belief.
“We didn’t… I mean, Mr. Darren and I—nothing happened!”
Her voice faded into a mortified whisper.
But her heart screamed: There’s no way I can explain this properly…!
Watching her, the doctor simply adjusted his glasses with a knowing look.
Zephyr’s lip twitched.
He looked at the beautiful girl, then at the skeletal Darren—and finally grunted:
“Ahem… Young man, you need to show some restraint.”
Toki turned bright red, her whole body stiffening.
A pure-hearted girl like this… corrupted by that damn brat!
Sengoku felt a mix of helplessness and responsibility swell in his chest.
He forced a kind smile and approached her gently.
“It’s alright. I’ll make sure that Darren takes proper responsibility. Will you come with us to headquarters?”
“Yes!!” Zephyr boomed, pounding his chest with righteous fury.
“If that little bastard dares let you down—I’ll be the first to break his legs!”
Faced with such forceful sincerity, Toki had no choice but to nod meekly.
“…Okay.”
Beast!
Seeing her shy and obedient response, Sengoku and Zephyr both felt a rush of fatherly instinct.
One was a lifelong bachelor. The other had lost his family long ago.
And now, as Marines, they saw this delicate girl—and couldn’t help but feel protective.
And Darren, damn him, that brilliant but shameless scoundrel—how dare he?!
Thinking back on all his “colorful” history, Sengoku and Zephyr both teared up in indignation.
They wanted to drag that boy out of bed and beat some virtue into him.
“Hmph!”
With a harrumph, Sengoku turned back to the crew, his voice sharp.
“Everything you heard in here is top secret! Not a word to anyone! That’s an order!”
The gathered Marines snapped to attention, nodding furiously.
“Especially you, Borsalino!!”
Sengoku turned and bellowed toward the hallway.
Borsalino raised both hands with a lazy grin.
“Got it, got it…”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 225: Chapter 127: I Heard
Summary:
“In the shadow of greatness, even small triumphs blaze like glory—until true power walks by.”
Chapter Text
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
"The weather's really nice today…"
Tokikake stepped out of the military academy, clad in a freshly issued uniform. A brown round cap sat snugly on his head, and he lit a cigarette as he walked toward the civilian district with both hands tucked into his pockets.
He was in an excellent mood today!
No—an absolutely fantastic mood!
Not just because today was a day off and he didn’t have to get his face bruised up by that hot-blooded maniac Kuzan—no, no, wait—didn’t have to train with that guy.
—But because he had finally awakened Armament Haki!
Among this batch of recruits, he was the first to do so after Kuzan!
When he recalled the expressions of envy from Onigumo, Yamakaji, and Strawberry after he succeeded in manifesting it yesterday, Tokikake couldn’t help but feel elated. The sky looked so blue, the clouds so white.
Sure, Kuzan had grasped Haki several days earlier than he had. But so what?
That guy was a freak of nature. There was no point comparing himself to a monster.
"Tokikake, oh Tokikake, you really are a genius!!"
A grin tugged at his lips as he strolled leisurely, exhaling a perfect smoke ring.
Then his eyes suddenly lit up.
Not far ahead, a tall and graceful figure stood in line at a bustling breakfast stall.
Her high ponytail swung behind her. A famed blade gleamed gold at her waist. Her gaze was cool and detached.
It was Gion!
Tokikake’s eyes darted slyly. He quickly erased the lecherous grin on his face and adopted a casual, indifferent demeanor as he walked over and greeted her.
“Good morning, Gion.”
Gion glanced at him.
“Morning,” she replied coolly.
Tokikake cleared his throat and called out to the stall’s owner.
“Auntie Rochi!”
The woman behind the stall, wearing an apron, looked up. Upon seeing Tokikake, she broke into a hearty smile.
“Oh, Tokikake! You’re early today. Usually, you come a bit later, don’t you?”
Auntie Rochi beamed.
She had watched this kid grow up.
His looks… well, a bit unfortunate. But he had a good heart. Ever since joining the Marines, he often helped out around this street. A good lad. They were familiar enough to speak freely.
“What’s the matter? Your face isn’t swollen like a pig’s today… Did you finally win one for once? That young guy who always makes you grind your teeth—what’s his name again?”
Cough cough cough…
Tokikake turned bright red, coughing furiously. He noticed the faint amusement flickering in Gion’s eyes and his face darkened.
“Oh dear, there I go again—too nosy for my own good,” Auntie Rochi chuckled, then glanced between Tokikake and Gion. Changing the subject, she asked,
“So, what would you like for breakfast today? It’s on me! Steamed buns? Oden? Or ramen?”
A surprised look sprang onto Tokikake’s face.
“Auntie Rochi, how did you know I awakened Haki!?”
Auntie Rochi: ???
She looked at him, puzzled, as he kept winking at her. Scratching her head, she said,
“What Haki? I’m asking what you want to eat. I’ll make it for you.”
Tokikake: …
He glanced at Gion, who remained serene, as if she hadn’t heard a word. Gritting his teeth, he forced the topic.
“This! This is Haki!! A power only true warriors can wield!”
He raised his arm and clenched his fist with a sharp exhale.
Whoosh!
A coat of jet-black sheen swept over his arm, wrapping his fist in a cold, metallic luster.
“See this, Auntie Rochi? This is Haki! With this, bullets and blades can’t even scratch me!”
He puffed his chest proudly, sneaking glances at Gion.
“That’s… quite something,” Auntie Rochi said, reaching out to touch his hardened arm. She looked amazed.
“So… does that mean you can finally beat that young man? What was his name again… Ku-something?”
Tokikake: …
His mouth twitched. He took a long, deep breath. Then slowly, deflated.
“…No.”
Seeing his crestfallen look, Auntie Rochi offered comfort.
“It’s okay, you’ve done great, Tokikake.”
“After all, the Marines are overflowing with geniuses. I just heard someone talking—some young man named Darren apparently did something astonishing out in the New World!”
Darren!?
Darren was back?
Tokikake blinked and followed Auntie Rochi’s gaze.
A group of Marines, dusty and worn, clearly just returned from a mission, were gathered inside.
Their table was covered with snacks and beer bottles scattered every which way.
One flushed, drunken Marine suddenly leaned in, whispering conspiratorially:
“Hey, hey, I heard Commodore Darren brought back a real stunner! She’s already moved into the officers’ residential compound!”
The moment those words fell, Gion, who had just turned with a bag of steamed buns, froze mid-step. She stood silent, her pale ears twitching slightly.
Another soldier chimed in:
“You didn’t know? Rumor is, that beauty’s the reason Darren looked like he’d been drained dry.”
“Man, I’m jealous… I saw her too. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
“What a shame… They say Commodore Darren’s a hopeless playboy.”
“Now hold on—that’s no flaw! A man like Commodore Darren, a true hero—his romantic affairs are not flaws. That’s just a case of many labors for the capable!”
“Exactly! It’s not playboyishness—it’s universal love! Commodore Darren is a role model! Our pride!”
“No doubt about it! He’s the guy who escaped from the Beasts Pirates’ main base!”
“That Kaido’s such an idiot, hahahaha! Trying to capture our Marine ‘monster’? Big mistake!”
“Escaped? That’s not what I heard. I heard Commodore Darren let Kaido catch him—used it as a chance to scout the Beasts Pirates’ base!”
“Eh? That… actually makes a lot of sense. I mean, no way a guy like Darren would get caught by some pirate. Even Kaido couldn’t manage that!”
“After all, the legendary pirate Byrnndi World—the ‘World Destroyer’—already fell to him…”
“Yeah, I heard Darren faced thousands of pirates in the Beasts Pirates’ base, all by himself! Not even Kaido could land a hit… He carved a path right through them alone!”
“Commodore Darren is amazing!!”
“I heard he’s about to be promoted to Rear Admiral! Incredible…”
“Also, rumor has it he even clashed with the Whitebeard Pirates afterward!”
“What!? You’re kidding!”
“No joke! My uncle’s sworn brother’s uncle’s son serves under Admiral Sengoku—he heard it himself!”
“They say the fight shattered heaven and earth! Whitebeard unleashed his world-ending Devil Fruit and sank an entire island!”
“Gasp—!!”
“Then what? What happened next?”
“What else? The Whitebeard Pirates couldn’t even touch Darren’s coat tails!”
“Bwahahahaha!!”
…
The Marines burst into raucous laughter. The breakfast stall buzzed with cheer.
At the entrance,
Tokikake stood dazed in the breeze.
Only one thought echoed in his head:
—Beauty, glory, promotion… If only I’d gone with them…
“No way… No way…”
Then suddenly, he snapped out of it. Gritting his teeth, he turned to Gion.
“This can’t be true. No way that bastard Darren slaughtered the Beasts Pirates and won the girl—huh? Gion, where are you going?”
Plop!
The steaming bun fell to the ground.
Gion didn’t reply.
Expressionless, she unsheathed her magnificent golden sword, killing intent radiating from her as she strode off in a chosen direction.
Tokikake shuddered.
“Gion’s face… terrifying!”
Then his eyes widened.
Because what he saw was…
A coat of ominous black slowly spreading over Gion’s golden blade.
Tokikake froze.
And recalling his earlier antics, the ten toes peeking out from his wooden sandals curled tightly.
“Damn it!!!”
He cursed and hurried after her.
“Gion, wait for me!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 226: Chapter 128: Gion’s Heart
Summary:
“Sometimes the fiercest battles are fought not with swords, but with the heart that dares not speak.”
Chapter Text
On the streets of the civilian district in Marineford, Tokikake followed Gion’s footsteps, trembling all the way.
He could feel the killing intent rolling off her slender figure ahead. The sharp, deliberate clack clack clack of her heels striking the ground echoed like war drums.
He didn’t dare breathe too loudly. Hands stuffed into his pockets, head lowered, he muttered under his breath:
“When did Gion awaken Armament Haki? Could it have been before me…?”
“No, no, this isn’t the time to think about that.”
He slapped himself across the face.
“Focus!! Tokikake! Focus!!”
“Think—how could Darren possibly fight his way solo through the entire Beasts Pirates?! Not even Admiral Sengoku could pull that off!!”
“Yes, it must be false. Definitely just a rumor!”
“Fake news!”
Tokikake clung to this illusion, forcing out a dry smile:
“And as for him fighting the Whitebeard Pirates… That’s even more impossible. There’s no way Darren, after being captured by Kaido for barely ten days, suddenly powered up enough to go head-to-head with the ‘Strongest Man in the World,’ right!?”
“The Beasts Pirates aren’t some kind of Elite Officer Training Camp. If anyone could do that, what’s the point of our Marine Headquarters establishing such a camp in the first place?”
“Yes, exactly!”
“And that thing about some world-class beauty… come on, how could that be true…”
He laughed stiffly, a bead of cold sweat forming on his brow.
“How could a real beauty fall for a disgrace like Darren? If anyone deserves affection, it’s someone like me—a thoughtful, gentle genius like Tokikake…”
“Exactly, that’s right.”
“Those soldiers must’ve been exaggerating!”
Like a drowning man clutching driftwood, light returned to Tokikake’s eyes. He clenched his fists.
“The woman Darren brought back must be plain…”
“—Yeah, right!!”
He clenched his teeth again.
Knowing Darren’s perverse tendencies, when had he ever been with someone not beautiful!?
Marguerite, the seductive and enchanting First Lady of the Yadis Kingdom in the North Blue;
Miss Silphine, the bright and lively princess of the Rost Kingdom;
The sultry, long-legged captain of the Nur merchant fleet in her high boots;
Maria, the buxom blonde nurse from the Marine Headquarters hospital…
One after another, vividly alluring faces flashed through Tokikake’s mind, each memory gnawing at his sanity like a swarm of termites.
“No, I don’t believe it!”
His eyes reddened suddenly. He growled and clenched both fists tightly.
“I won’t accept this!!”
Flames blazed behind his eyes, and both fists simultaneously coated themselves in Armament Haki.
He stormed up to Gion’s side.
Together, the two of them marched straight toward Darren’s residence, brimming with fury.
The nearby citizens seemed to sense the storm brewing, quickly backing away and keeping their distance.
In under three minutes,
They came to a halt before a quiet courtyard.
Lush green vines climbed the low wall. Through the gaps, the branches of an oak tree reached outward. The small wooden gate ahead had an old-fashioned charm.
“Let’s barge in, Gion! With our power now, we can definitely teach that bastard Darren a lesson!”
“Let him see just what our training has accomplished!”
Staring at the wooden gate, Tokikake suddenly felt a twinge of hesitation. He nudged Gion for support.
Gion said nothing.
Her face was like a mask of frost as she stared at the courtyard. Her lips pressed tightly together, and the hand gripping her golden blade, Konpira, began to tremble slightly.
“Huh? Gion, what’s wrong?”
Tokikake blinked and turned to her.
To his surprise, the killing aura that had been surging from her had suddenly… diminished.
Gion remained silent.
She lowered her head, staring blankly at her blade. Her eyes lost focus, and a cloud of confusion and conflict slowly spread across her face.
What’s wrong with me…?
Why am I so angry?
That shameless, vulgar scoundrel bringing a woman back… isn’t that just what he does?
It’s not like I only met him yesterday.
Besides, what does any of this have to do with me?
We don’t even have any kind of relationship!
We’re not even… friends!
What right do I have to be angry?
Do I even have a reason to be upset?
A whirlwind of thoughts raced through Gion’s mind.
Her eyes were dazed, her body still.
“Gion? Gion?”
Even after several calls, there was no response. Tokikake’s mouth twitched, his face wilting like an eggplant struck by frost.
“Damn it…”
He cursed under his breath, drew a deep breath, and summoned his courage. He stepped forward and knocked hard on the door.
BANG BANG BANG!
“Please wait just a moment.”
A voice answered gently from inside.
Tokikake froze completely.
That voice… so sweet, so soft!!
Like a breeze through an empty valley, it had an old-world grace to it.
He swore to the heavens—if it were a Den Den Mushi conversation, he could eat for days just hearing that voice, no face required!
What he didn’t see was the way Gion’s expression turned pale the moment she heard that voice.
Soon, the sound of wooden sandals approached softly.
Then, the wooden door creaked open.
And a beautiful, gentle face appeared before Tokikake and Gion.
Bathed in the morning light,
Toki stood there in a kimono, her pale green hair flowing, wooden sandals tapping against the ground. She tilted her head and smiled sweetly at the two visibly shaken guests.
“May I ask who you are?”
Time seemed to pause.
A breeze stirred, lifting Toki’s hair and kimono hem. Behind her, fallen leaves danced through the courtyard, forming a picturesque, poetic scene.
“S-So beautiful…”
Tokikake stared dumbfounded at the girl before him.
His eyes turned into hearts, jaw practically touching the ground, drool trailing from his mouth.
Suddenly.
He dropped to his knees with a thud, pounded his fists weakly against the ground, and sobbed:
“Damn it!! It’s true!!”
“That bastard Darren!!”
He wailed like a broken man.
Toki: (*^_^*)?
Beside him, Gion also stared at Toki’s gentle and lovely smile, lost for words.
Her gaze dropped to Toki’s hands—she was holding a freshly washed Marine uniform, ready to hang out to dry…
In that instant, Gion felt her chest tighten, her face turning pale.
It’s already gotten this far…?
In front of her stood the image of a kind and graceful woman, a perfect wife.
And herself…
Gion looked down at her own blade—cold, sharp—and in its surface, saw a face contorted with barely restrained rage.
Shame surged through her heart.
Of course…
An unnamed bitterness flooded her chest and spread outward like ripples.
Huff…
Gion let out a long breath, sheathed her sword, and forced a smile onto her face.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion. We’re here to inform Commodore Darren to return to the training camp.”
With that, she turned abruptly, gritted her teeth, and snapped at the sobbing Tokikake beside her:
“Tokikake, we’re leaving!”
“Huh?” Tokikake blinked up, still drowning in grief.
“Today, you’re training with me!”
Gion said coldly.
“Training?”
Tokikake blinked in confusion. Then as realization dawned, he shivered from head to toe.
“Nooo…”
“Why is it always me who ends up hurt…”
He cried even harder.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 227: Chapter 129: A... Love Triangle?
Summary:
“True silence is not the absence of words, but the stillness before emotions confess themselves.”
Chapter Text
"What strange people…"
Watching Gion’s dashing back and the utterly devastated Tokikake trailing behind, Toki couldn’t help but murmur softly to herself.
She turned back toward the drying rack, gave the freshly washed uniform a few brisk shakes, then carefully hung it up.
A white shirt and black trousers swayed gently in the sunlight and breeze. A satisfied smile appeared on Toki’s face.
The doctor had said Mr. Darren still needed proper rest.
He had saved her life. He’d promised to help her return to Wano. For such a kindness… doing what little chores she could—that was the least she could offer in return.
Come on, Toki, let’s do your best today, too!
Flushing slightly, Toki clenched her little fists in encouragement.
“Was someone knocking at the door just now?”
A low, gently amused voice drifted from inside the house.
“Ah!” Toki let out a small cry and turned around, bowing politely.
“Good morning, Mr. Darren. Why are you up? The doctor said you needed rest…”
Her cheeks reddened further, and she said awkwardly:
“And… um… why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
She instinctively averted her gaze, though her peripheral vision kept stealing glances at Darren’s powerful frame.
Darren is so handsome… And that body… Even with all those fearsome scars, he doesn’t look frightening at all.
She repeated the thought quietly in her heart.
Darren gave a helpless chuckle.
He was wearing pants, after all. The weather was just hot, and he was used to training shirtless. He hadn’t thought much of it.
He shrugged, then grabbed a Marine cape from the rack and threw it over his shoulders.
“This better?”
If anything, now he looked even more alluring with that half-covered look!
Toki shyly thought to herself, but only replied with a soft, “Mm.” Then she answered his earlier question.
“Just now, two young Marine officers came to find you. They said they were from the training camp and asked you to return for training.”
“But… I’m not sure why, after I opened the door, their expressions got really weird.”
“The man kept staring at me all lustfully, then suddenly dropped to his knees and started bawling, saying something like, ‘Damn it all!’…”
“The woman didn’t look very pleased either.”
“Oh?”
Darren’s face twisted at her words.
“Could you describe what they looked like?”
Toki tapped her dimple with one delicate finger, recalling:
“The man… let’s see… he was kind of sloppy-looking… gave off a similar vibe to that Rear Admiral Borsalino you’ve mentioned before, but not nearly as intense…”
After thinking for a moment, she added:
“Oh right, he was wearing a brown…”
“Toki, I know who it is,” Darren said, his mouth twitching.
Frankly, the moment she’d said “lustful stare” and “collapsed crying,” he already had a pretty good guess.
It could only be Tokikake.
Besides Borsalino, there was only one man in the Marines that could be described as “sloppy.”
“And the woman?”
Darren sighed and asked again.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Toki looked at him, pursed her lips, and said softly:
“She was very beautiful… and very graceful. She looked cold on the surface, but I could tell she was warm and gentle inside.”
“She had long black hair tied into a high ponytail, was wearing heels, and had a golden longsword at her waist… very tall…”
As she spoke, she stood on tiptoe and gestured her height.
Darren: …
Dammit, it’s Gion…
He massaged his temples with a grimace.
So this… was a love triangle?
Truth be told, he did like Gion.
She’d been tough to deal with back in the North Blue, but that came from her upbringing. After all the chaos they’d been through there, she had matured quite a bit.
And ever since she’d discovered his secret—about saving that mother and daughter—Darren had noticed that although she still acted cold, her gaze toward him during training had changed. It said more than words ever could.
But Gion was proud—too proud to let any of that show on the surface.
Darren didn’t mind.
His past flings in the North Blue? Just games.
Mutual interest, no strings, everyone walked away content. He had no regrets.
But Gion… was different.
She was a good woman.
Of course, more importantly—he’d never admit it, but he was absolutely terrified of what would happen if he did mess with Gion.
Sengoku, Zephyr, Garp, Tsuru, Kong—they’d murder him in a joint operation.
“Um… Mr. Darren… do you know those two officers?”
Seeing Darren’s shifting expression, Toki bit her lip and asked hesitantly.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Back in the North Blue, they were under my command… now we’re part of the same training camp.”
Still half-distracted, Darren answered casually.
“The sloppy-looking one is Tokikake. Bit of a perv, no sense of shame… but trustworthy, in his own way.”
“As for the tall female officer, her name’s Gion. Sharp-tongued, bad temper… don’t mind her too much, Toki—hm?”
Darren suddenly felt a chilling killing intent lock onto him. His back stiffened. He looked up instinctively—
And froze.
Gion was standing in the doorway.
Her face was expressionless, but her brow twitched, veins bulging. She was holding a fruit basket in one hand and glaring at him like the wrath of heaven.
Tokikake was peeking from behind the wall, his stupid dog face peering out, grinning like an idiot: Hehehe… you’re so screwed.
Darren: …
Didn’t they leave?
When the hell did they circle back!?
Dammit!! I should’ve activated magnetic field sensing!!
But who stays on high alert in their own home!?
His face stiffened. He forced a laugh.
“Uh… Gion…”
Even though neither Gion nor Tokikake were his match, being caught bad-mouthing someone behind their back—even Darren had limits.
“I forgot to give you this.”
Gion cut him off with a smile.
But that smile was utterly terrifying to Darren.
She dropped the fruit basket at his feet.
“I heard you were badly injured and drained of energy. Do rest well, Commodore Darren.”
With that, she turned sharply and walked away without hesitation.
Tokikake stuck out his tongue, made a face, and trailed after her.
Darren: …
He opened his mouth.
But couldn’t utter a single word.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 228: Chapter 130: So Sweet
Summary:
“Some love with arms wide open. Others love with open doors and quiet departures.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A soft breeze stirred the golden leaves carpeting the courtyard, carrying with it the subtle scent of autumn and tension unspoken.
Gion’s sudden return had taken Darren completely by surprise—more than surprise, really. It was as if a blade had silently fallen through the air and split the moment in half.
He stood frozen, staring at the fallen fruit basket. The neatly wrapped fruits had burst through their decorative paper like tiny hearts cracked open. Or no—not tiny. They looked… wounded. As though a young girl’s trust had scattered across the floor in the form of glossy apples and bruised plums.
“I really am hopeless…”
A bitter chuckle escaped Darren’s throat. He rubbed his temples, as if doing so could press away the swirling headache now tightening around his skull like an iron band.
“Mr. Darren… are you okay?”
Toki’s voice reached him softly, but not without concern. She’d been watching him stand there, motionless, with an expression like he’d just stepped barefoot into cold ashes.
“I’m fine, Toki,” he replied, shaking his head lightly—though nothing about him suggested ease.
She hesitated. Then, with her usual quiet grace, she stepped toward the door, bent down, and began picking up the fruit. One by one. She brushed the dust from each piece with her sleeve, gentle and unhurried, as if handling something far more fragile than fruit. As if reassembling someone’s broken thoughts.
Once the basket was refilled, she carried it back to his side and stood before him—her arms cradling the basket, her eyes clear.
“That girl… the one named Gion,” she said softly. “It seemed like she likes you.”
The words were light, almost conversational.
Darren’s first impulse was to nod. To acknowledge. But something in his gut kicked in like a reflex. He stopped himself, heart skipping, head lifting suddenly to meet her gaze.
Toki stood there quietly, biting her lip. Her brows relaxed, not knitted, and her lips were not pressed tightly—but her eyes, her eyes held something Darren couldn't quite read. Something soft. Something almost… hurt.
And her cheeks—just barely puffed.
It made him want to disappear.
Darren: …
Damn it all. Really.
Of all the battles he’d fought, of all the high-tension encounters he’d survived—this? This was worse.
He was used to being called a disgrace, and he didn’t care about the nickname. Not really.
But there was still a difference between being a disgrace… and being despicable.
Even disgrace, he thought, should have some damn standards.
“Ahem… Toki, actually… Gion and I, it’s not… not what you’re thinking.”
He pushed the words out with difficulty, trying to salvage a moment he hadn’t prepared to explain.
But Toki’s next words cut him off with the ease of a blade wrapped in silk.
“So you don’t like Miss Gion?”
Darren: …
He tried to speak, but her eyes—calm, patient, but undeniably earnest—held him like a net. He couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t.
He didn’t lie to women.
But then, just as he stood drowning in awkward silence, she smiled.
And the entire rhythm of the world seemed to stutter.
“Then… you should pursue her.”
Her voice was gentle, sincere. Her smile: delicate, radiant.
The kind of smile that could disarm a man better than any sword. The kind that felt like it belonged in a dream, not a morning courtyard.
“What… what!?”
Darren nearly choked. He took a half-step back as if the air itself had slapped him.
Had he heard that right?
These past few days, the bond between him and Toki had grown steadily. Their closeness had moved far beyond polite conversation. They hadn’t crossed any lines, not yet—but there was understanding. Wordless, effortless understanding.
They lived under the same roof now. And in that modest little house tucked within the officers’ compound, Toki had become the gentle heartbeat of the home.
Stuffed toys had appeared on the couch. Windowpanes were brightened with seasonal cutouts. The quiet clang of pots and bowls marked a rhythm of life Darren hadn’t known he missed.
He’d grown to enjoy it—more than enjoy it. He even helped her clean up sometimes.
And then there were those two old bastards—Zephyr and Sengoku—who stopped by far too often with their thinly veiled smiles and not-so-veiled stares. They looked at him the way a father sizes up a boy dating his daughter. With affection, sure—but also with absolute murder in their eyes.
Without even realizing it, Toki had become… a wife.
Not in title, not in deed—but in presence.
She made that house feel whole.
“But, Toki… if I go after Gion… wouldn’t you be… upset?”
Darren’s voice faltered. Actually faltered.
That alone terrified him.
His mind spun through mental checklists and past experiences. Was this a trap? A test? Was she hiding her jealousy behind calm grace?
She’s a woman, right? Women don’t say things like this without a reason.
Unless… maybe she didn’t like him at all?
No—that couldn’t be. He had charm. Didn’t he? His history in the North Blue said as much.
Besides, he knew how she looked at him sometimes—how her gaze lingered, how her ears flushed pink.
“No,” Toki said, her voice warm as sunlight. “I wouldn’t be upset.”
She tilted her head, her tone still light, still innocent.
“Mr. Darren… you already told me about who you are. If I chose to stay by your side, I knew what I was accepting. All of it—the good and the bad.”
“My father used to say: real heroes don’t confine themselves to small things. The strong should enjoy more freedom than the weak. That’s what true fairness means.”
“And a man like you, Mr. Darren—bold, fearless, grand in spirit—to be loved by many women is not shameful. It’s a blessing. For them.”
Na… nani!?
Darren’s jaw practically unhinged.
She meant it.
Toki, the softest woman he’d ever met—was telling him that loving more than one woman was acceptable?
That she understood?
That she approved!?
He wanted to laugh, cry, and drop to his knees in confusion all at once.
His brain stopped working. Fully.
Disgrace or not, there were some lines he didn’t cross. Even in this world.
His past was playful, not cruel. His romances were mutual. His charm wasn’t a weapon.
But now… this?
Wano… Wano was something else.
Forget bushido. This was the cultural gem.
His eye twitched for a full minute before he finally managed:
“…Sounds like your father was a very wise man.”
Toki smiled sweetly.
“I think so too,” she said.
Then she set the fruit basket aside and quietly slipped into the house. A moment later, she returned with a clean Marine uniform folded in her arms.
“Time to head out, Mr. Darren. You’ve got training today—and perhaps, you owe Miss Gion an apology.”
Still reeling, Darren let her help him dress, lead him to the door, and push him gently out into the sunlight.
“Do your best! And don’t forget to come home for dinner, okay, Mr. Darren?”
She waved after him with cheerful ease.
Darren raised his hand awkwardly in return, his legs carrying him toward the training camp on sheer autopilot.
He hadn’t processed a single moment of what had just happened.
…
Long after he disappeared down the street, Toki lowered her hand.
She turned, closed the wooden door, and crossed the leaf-dappled courtyard.
Inside the kitchen, she washed the fruit clean, every movement calm, almost rhythmic. Then she moved to the living room and knelt gently onto the tatami mat.
She placed the fruit into a carved porcelain tray, one piece at a time, arranging them with care.
She looked serene. At peace.
A smile still lingered on her lips, soft and radiant.
She hummed—an old melody from her homeland, gentle and tinged with melancholy.
Her hand propped her chin. Her pink kimono swept the spotless floor beneath her. A newly bought shoji screen stood behind her like a stage backdrop.
She looked like something painted in a scroll—beautiful, timeless, and still.
“The fruit is very fresh. Miss Gion… she’s a kind girl. I hope Mr. Darren doesn’t make her sad.”
She whispered the words like a prayer to no one.
Then she picked up a pear, and bit gently into it.
Juice spread across her tongue.
Her smile remained, warm and lovely.
But her eyes shimmered. Just faintly red.
“So sweet.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
After this chapter… what’s your honest take on Toki?
1. New waifu unlocked. – That smile? That wisdom? I'm sold. (。♥‿♥。)
2. She’s always been waifu material. – Graceful, loyal, built for peace. (◕‿◕✿)
3. Nah, not my type. – I like mine more explosive. (╯°□°)╯
Chapter 229: Chapter 131: Washed Up Already?
Summary:
“Sometimes, your reputation runs faster than your boots—especially when it's wearing a cape you never stitched.”
Chapter Text
It took Darren quite a while to recover his bearings on the walk to the training camp.
So… had he just received royal permission to womanize?
Was that what Toki had meant?
He replayed her words in his head, and the smile at the corner of his mouth slowly twisted into something crooked.
“A virtuous wife at home, huh…”
His mood brightened instantly. He couldn’t help but whistle as he walked.
Sure, nothing had happened between him and Toki—yet—but with the duck already cooked and placed right in front of his mouth, was he really going to let it fly away?
It was only a matter of time.
Having a woman as stunning as Toki beside him was like placing cream in front of a fat orange tabby. You couldn’t possibly expect the greedy feline not to lick it.
Of course, Darren had no intention of betraying her feelings.
But just as he was basking in the glow of this delightful revelation, he noticed something strange.
All the civilians and patrolling Marines he passed along the way were stealing glances at him—strange glances.
There was admiration, respect, curiosity… and an odd trace of pity he couldn’t quite put into words.
“What happened while I was gone? I’ve only been home resting for two, maybe three days…”
Darren instinctively perked up his ears, trying to catch their whispered gossip.
“Isn’t that Commodore Darren!? He’s so handsome!!”
“Of course! He’s the one who singlehandedly tore through the Beasts Pirates! Even the so-called ‘Strongest Creature’ Kaido couldn’t stop him—had to flee in disgrace.”
“I heard he almost wiped out the Whitebeard Pirates too!”
“No doubt about it. He’s our Headquarters’ very own ‘monster’!”
Darren: “…”
The more he listened, the more his forehead darkened.
How the hell had the story mutated like this!?
When did he become so absurdly legendary?
Apparently, he’d deliberately let himself get captured by Kaido—endured humiliation—all just to discover the Beasts Pirates’ base location?
And then he escaped from prison alone and slaughtered thousands of Beast Pirates?
Even the skirmish with Whitebeard, which he’d barely escaped from, had now become a tale where he almost annihilated the entire crew!?
What the…
Wait a minute.
He suddenly caught a snippet of conversation that made his expression shift.
A group of gossip-hungry uncles and aunties sat together, holding up newspapers like shields but constantly sneaking peeks at him.
“Such a tall, strapping young man…”
“What a shame…”
“I heard his body’s not doing too well…”
“Giggle giggle… totally drained dry, I bet…”
“Look at his face—doesn’t he look worse by the second?”
“Kids these days just don’t have it in them. Not like me—fifty and still going strong!”
“Oh, please! Your wife said you don’t last a minute!”
“But really, it’s such a waste. So young and already… lacking.”
“He still looks sturdy, though…”
“…”
By the time he realized what he was hearing, Darren’s face had darkened like a scorched kettle.
A vein on his forehead pulsed visibly, blood surging so fiercely it felt ready to explode.
Which bastard started this rumor!!?
His teeth clenched so hard they ground together.
Who the hell said I was impotent!!?
Dammit!!
Fighting off the barrage of strange looks from passersby, Darren instinctively picked up his pace, then broke into a jog, and finally burst into a full-on soru technique sprint.
Only after arriving at the training camp gates at near-maximum speed did he exhale a long breath and wipe the sweat from his brow with a pained, bitter smile.
“…Who do I even complain to about this?”
He couldn’t very well go argue with that pack of old busybodies. That would only feed their fire.
“What a goddamn mess…”
With a sigh, he stepped through the gates of the training camp.
“Get your asses moving!! Yamakaji, what the hell are you doing smoking a cigar during training!?”
“And you, Onigumo! What’s with that face? Don’t glare at me like I owe you a million berries!”
“Useless bunch! When I was your age, I carried hundreds of kilos of gear and chopped my way from Reverse Mountain all the way to the New World without blinking!!”
The familiar bellow of Zephyr’s voice echoed across the training ground, and Darren’s mouth twitched involuntarily.
He was tempted to ask, “Did your eyes just not blink back then, sir?”
But that would probably earn him a personal demo of Zephyr’s Black Arm technique.
He wisely held his tongue.
As he entered the field, he saw Zephyr—sunglasses gleaming—firing a heavy machine gun.
(Yes, a literal machine gun. Don’t question it. In the world of pirates, tech trees are just… weird.)
The trainees, weighed down with gear and gasping for breath as they ran laps, scattered in chaos as bullets rained down around them.
It was bedlam.
Darren didn’t rush to interrupt. He simply stood quietly to the side and waited for the exercise to end.
Ten minutes later, the training was over.
The students bent over, hands on knees, soaked in sweat, pale-faced. A few of the less fit even vomited on the spot.
Training here wasn’t child’s play. Zephyr hadn’t earned the title “Demon Drill Instructor” as a joke.
With his overwhelming strength and meticulous knowledge, he could assess a trainee’s physical limits precisely—and then push them beyond.
Because no two bodies were alike.
Not everyone could power through Zephyr’s brutal regimen and still have energy left to haul a battleship, like Darren.
Darren smiled and stepped forward.
He saluted smartly and called out:
“Cadet of the Third Elite Officer Training Camp, Commodore Rogers Darren, mission completed. Requesting reentry into formation!”
His voice immediately drew attention.
Heads turned toward the field’s edge.
“Darren!! You’re back!”
Yamakaji, face dripping with sweat, beamed and waved.
“Hahahaha! Darren, you’re finally back!! I’ve gotten way stronger! Let’s spar later!”
That excited shout came from Kuzan, who practically bounced in place.
“Welcome back.”
That was Strawberry, Doberman, and Dalmatian, voices calm but sincere.
Even the ever-grim Onigumo gave him a nod.
Darren was well-liked in the training camp.
Strong, charismatic, sharp-tongued but charming. And handsome.
Plus, he was generous—always treating them to good drinks, quality smokes, and hearty meals.
Who wouldn’t want a classmate like that?
…Well, okay. Two people.
Tokikake let out a discontented snort.
And Gion…
Gion just glared at Darren with eyes sharp enough to kill a man.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 230: Chapter 132: You Killed Him, Didn’t You
Summary:
"Truth and rumor walk side by side — but only one leaves footprints in a man's pride."
Chapter Text
Gion’s gaze was sharp enough to pierce bone—a gaze so cold, so hostile, Darren could almost feel the edge of her killing intent brushing against his skin.
He let out a helpless, bitter smile.
So that’s what this is about…
She must’ve heard the rumors. Those ridiculous whispers about him being “drained dry.”
And… those two painfully “honest” comments he let slip in public.
“Seems like everyone’s had quite the fulfilling few days…”
Darren shook his head, lips curling faintly in resignation, and raised a hand in greeting as he walked forward.
From the day he was sent on the mission to hunt down Bullet to now, only a little more than twenty days had passed.
And yet… with his biological magnetic field sharpened to its peak, Darren could sense it clearly.
His comrades had grown.
The energy pulsing from their bodies had grown thicker, more forceful—at least thirty percent stronger than before.
That kind of growth wasn’t normal.
The strength of one’s magnetic field reflected their fundamental essence—their stamina, spirit, fighting power—all of it together. A leap like this wasn’t just numbers. It was transformation.
Sure, Zephyr’s instruction played a role. But in the end, it came down to each one’s own talent and effort.
No doubt about it.
This generation… really was the Marines’ “Golden Age.”
“Good. It’s enough that you’ve returned.”
Zephyr finally lowered the absurdly heavy machine gun he’d been hefting one-handed.
He eyed Darren from top to bottom, and the corner of his mouth lifted with satisfaction.
“You’re looking a lot better than I expected, kid.”
Darren gave a formal nod.
“Yes, Zephyr-sensei. I’ve recovered enough to resume full training.”
Zephyr waved him off with a grunt.
“No need to rush it. Take a few more days if you need them.”
Then his gaze swept across the rest of the students.
“That’s it for today’s physical drills. Free period now. Same rules as always—if you’ve got any problems with your training, my door’s open.”
“And Darren, report to Admiral Sengoku later. He wants the full rundown on your mission.”
He gave them a sharp military salute.
Darren and the other students straightened at once and bowed.
“Thank you for your guidance, Zephyr-sensei!”
Zephyr gave a pleased nod and turned away, walking toward his office at a steady pace.
“HAHAHA, Darren!! I heard all about it!!”
As soon as Zephyr was out of earshot, Kuzan dashed over, slinging an arm around Darren’s shoulders with a grin full of mischief.
Darren’s mouth twitched.
“What exactly did you hear?”
Please not that…
A chill of unease crept into his gut.
Civilians spreading wild gossip was one thing. But if it’d reached the training camp? That would be a whole different disaster.
“Your record, man!!” Kuzan’s eyes were practically glowing with excitement, and he punched the air. “Zephyr-sensei said you broke out of the Beasts Pirates’ base alone!”
“And that you blew up their brand-new weapons factory! Is that true!?”
His eyes burned with hero-worship.
Oh. That version.
Darren relaxed slightly, letting out a slow breath of relief.
“That’s… not exactly wrong. I got lucky, mostly—”
“—That’s insanely cool!!”
Kuzan didn’t even let him finish before shouting, face red with pure adrenaline.
But in the very next moment, he clutched his curls in despair.
“I can’t believe I missed it! A mission that epic and I wasn’t there! Aahhh!!”
Darren: …
“You’ll get your chance,” he said calmly, slipping out from Kuzan’s grasp and giving his shoulder a friendly pat.
As long as nobody brought up those rumors, everything was fine.
“How’s the recovery going?”
Yamakaji walked over, chomping on a cigar. He offered one to Darren and gave his shoulder a light punch.
“Don’t let it leave any long-term issues.”
Darren bit down on the cigar, lit it, and took a deep, satisfied puff.
“No worries. Whatever doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.”
Yamakaji paused.
Then his eyes lit up like someone discovering ancient wisdom.
“That’s deep. Damn good line.”
He laughed, clapped Darren on the back.
“Glad to hear it. One of these days, I’ll show you how my blade’s coming along.”
“I’ll be waiting for it,” Darren said with a grin.
Yamakaji nodded, turned away, then stopped suddenly.
“Oh right—almost forgot,” he said in a lower voice. “Back when I was posted in South Blue, there was this tribe. They had a special… herbal remedy. Word is, it really helps with that issue.”
“What issue?”
Darren blinked.
Yamakaji’s bearded face turned red. He coughed, lowered his voice to a whisper.
“You know… that. The one you… need.”
“That?”
Still confused, Darren followed Yamakaji’s eyes—which were very clearly darting toward his groin.
…
No.
No no no no no.
He’s heard it too…
“I DON’T NEED THAT!! I’m as strong as a damn monster!!”
Darren roared through gritted teeth.
“Alright, alright! Don’t get so worked up. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Yamakaji gave him a sympathetic nod and walked off.
Darren: …
“Take it easy.”
That was Doberman, clapping his shoulder gently.
Darren: …
“Don’t worry. It’s probably just nerves after the mission.”
Dalmatian offered a comforting smile.
Darren: …
“Rest up.”
Strawberry said flatly.
Darren: …
“As long as you can still fight, doesn’t matter.”
Onigumo’s cold tone.
Darren: …
One by one, his classmates came forward, patted him on the shoulder, and offered solemn words of comfort—each more meaningful than the last.
All with the same look.
Sympathy.
As if mourning the tragic downfall of a once-proud warrior.
In the end, Darren was left standing alone in the wind, mouth slightly open, as if the air itself had turned against him.
He stood there for a long, long time.
Then finally, he clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and shouted:
“DAMN IT ALL!!!”
…
“Yamakaji! Wait up!”
Just outside the gates, Yamakaji turned, confused.
He saw Tokikake sneaking over, glancing around like a thief.
“What’s up?”
Tokikake leaned in, rubbing his hands with a grin.
“That medicine you mentioned… it’s real, right?”
Yamakaji nodded gravely.
“Real as it gets. Nobles in South Blue pay a fortune for it. If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have told Darren.”
Tokikake’s eyes sparkled.
“Well, see… I have this friend…”
(Bellion001: So… that “friend” of yours… is his name Tokikake, by any chance? (¬‿¬))
———
Darren didn’t even remember how he reached the office.
His mind was still foggy as he raised a hand and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” came the calm, commanding voice from within.
He pushed open the door, stepped inside, and saluted listlessly.
“Admiral Sengoku. You called for me?”
Sengoku looked up slowly.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then his gaze turned sharp, and his voice dropped to a glacial tone that made the air itself freeze.
“It was you who killed Saint Shaldes… wasn’t it?”
Darren’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 231: Chapter 133: Tug-of-War and Game of Wits
Summary:
“Truth is rarely spoken aloud at the summit of power—for even suspicion can become a weapon, and silence the sharpest shield.”
Chapter Text
The air in the Admiral’s office was stifling to the extreme.
It felt as if the temperature in the room had plummeted; even the potted plants in the corners seemed to be holding their breath.
Behind his black-framed glasses, Sengoku’s eyes gleamed with a sharpness never seen before. His gaze locked onto the young Marine before him like a hawk fixating on its prey, a commanding and oppressive aura emanating from him, bearing down directly on Darren.
Darren’s heart gave a sudden jolt—but his expression remained calmly composed, seasoned and unflinching.
Was I found out?
No. Impossible.
He had full confidence in his methods and capabilities.
That incident back in the North Blue, where a Celestial Dragon was killed—he had cleaned up everything meticulously, leaving not a single trace behind.
Subjectively, there was no apparent motive for him to attack a Celestial Dragon. After all, his established persona didn’t align with such an act.
Objectively, his alibi was watertight. More than that, all traces had been thoroughly erased. Not even the Marines, let alone the World Government, could uncover anything.
If there was anything that could raise suspicion, it would be that his strength and Devil Fruit ability matched the profiler’s description of the culprit.
But that was it—nothing more.
So this reaction from Sengoku...
Was he bluffing?
A flurry of thoughts flashed through Darren’s mind in an instant. He allowed a perfectly-timed look of "bewilderment" to surface on his face, blinking with apparent confusion.
“Lord Saint Shaldes?”
“Admiral Sengoku, I don’t understand what you mean.”
“The tragic demise of Lord Saint Shaldes—wasn’t it deemed an accident? You personally reached that conclusion through investigation, did you not?”
“‘The esteemed World Noble, Lord Saint Shaldes, was attacked by a large Sea King during his voyage through the North Blue. The official government ship was destroyed in an instant, resulting in the unfortunate deaths of Lord Saint Shaldes and numerous CP division guards aboard. The Marine Headquarters and the World Government express their deepest condolences.’ …That was the final verdict, wasn’t it?”
“As for the idea that I murdered Lord Saint Shaldes…”
Darren hastily waved his hands, face filled with alarm.
“How could I possibly dare lay a hand on a Celestial Dragon?”
“I am, after all, a law-abiding Marine!”
The corner of Sengoku’s mouth twitched. He nearly lost his composure.
Yes, yes… in the entire Marine, you’re the most ‘law-abiding.’
Watching Darren’s natural performance, Sengoku couldn’t help feeling exasperated.
When it came to the Saint Shaldes incident, his initial investigation had yielded nothing. For a time, he truly believed it to be an unfortunate attack by a Sea King.
After all, back when he was investigating in the North Blue, Sengoku hadn’t found a single suspect.
—Until the campaign against “World Destroyer” Byrnndi World.
In that battle, Darren had displayed power far beyond expectations—his formidable combat prowess, superb military command, and the sheer strength of his North Blue fleet.
Most importantly, Darren—the North Blue Commander—had revealed an ability to fly.
It was from that moment on that Sengoku began to suspect.
Though it was the faintest glimmer of doubt, for safety’s sake, he secretly reopened the investigation into the Celestial Dragon’s death.
Strangely enough, however, the deeper he dug, the more Sengoku found—absolutely nothing incriminating about Darren.
But it was precisely this that deepened Sengoku’s conviction that Darren was the culprit!
He had no evidence—but he trusted his instincts.
“Darren, I won’t beat around the bush…”
He cleared his throat, his gaze hard as steel upon Darren.
“We both know the specifics of the Celestial Dragon attack case.”
“Leaving aside the possibility of an accident, if we presume there was a perpetrator, then that individual would necessarily meet the following three criteria.”
“First, they would have to possess tremendous power—enough to sink the official ship before the CP guards could even react.”
“Second, they would very likely have a grudge against Lord Saint Shaldes.”
“Third, they would probably possess the ability to fly.”
“In the North Blue at that time, among those who fulfilled all three conditions and had prior contact with Lord Saint Shaldes…”
Sengoku let out a long breath.
“There was only you—Supreme Commander of the North Blue, Rogers Darren.”
As soon as the words left his lips, Sengoku stared intently at Darren, searching for any flicker of emotion on his face.
But he found none.
“Admiral Sengoku, such accusations cannot be made lightly.”
Darren suddenly chuckled, a touch of helplessness in his tone.
“If we follow your logic, then I’m not the only one who fits the profile.”
“And who else would that be?”
“Borsalino.”
Sengoku: “……”
Facing Darren, who was entirely unfazed, Sengoku felt a dull ache tighten in his chest.
Darren glanced at him, now more certain than ever that Sengoku had no proof. He smiled and said:
“If we’re dredging up old matters, then perhaps it’s time I came clean with you about something.”
“What is it?” Sengoku frowned.
Darren sighed lightly and spoke slowly:
“Back then, when CP0 agents arrived in the North Blue and announced that I was to take over the investigation into Lord Saint Shaldes’ death—you remember that, don’t you?”
Sengoku nodded.
“Of course I remember. The Gorosei considered me, a Marine Admiral, too burdened with military duties, and with the urgent need to pursue Byrnndi World... so the investigation was delegated to you…”
“—But was that really the reason?”
Darren cut him off, his tone carrying an ambiguous hint of irony.
“Admiral Sengoku, with your intelligence, do you truly believe that the esteemed Gorosei, residing high above the world, would concern themselves with whether you’re busy or not?”
“Or... was it simply that they didn’t think you were suited to handle a Celestial Dragon incident?”
“Absurd…”
Sengoku instinctively moved to refute—but the moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
Darren’s insinuating tone suddenly brought something to mind. His expression shifted subtly.
Indeed.
He was a high-ranking Marine Admiral—yet in the eyes of the Gorosei, he was insignificant.
By standard protocol, any incident involving a Celestial Dragon should immediately take top priority. The Admiral involved must abandon all tasks and attend to it at once.
Yet before the investigation had even concluded, the Gorosei dispatched CP0 agents to hand the investigation over to Darren.
What did that really mean?
Back then, Sengoku had been wholly focused on the campaign against Byrnndi World. He hadn’t paid any attention to the issue.
He’d even been secretly pleased, thinking he had dodged a burdensome responsibility.
“Could it be…”
Sengoku’s eyes flickered with unease, his face darkening by the moment.
“Darren... are you suggesting that the World Government doesn’t trust me?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 232: Chapter 134: The Suspect… Is Me?
Summary:
“A single whisper of doubt can topple empires—not through force, but through the silence that follows.”
Chapter Text
Control had returned to his hands…
Darren took in every nuance of Sengoku’s changing expression and quietly let out a breath of relief.
In this kind of interrogation, if he simply answered each question passively, he’d be walking into a trap—an opening waiting to be exploited.
And Darren hated being led by the nose.
Only by diverting Sengoku’s focus could he extract himself from the snare.
When it came to the Celestial Dragon incident, Darren never truly expected to deceive everyone indefinitely.
Especially after his Devil Fruit ability was exposed—he had anticipated a confrontation like this from the start. It was only a matter of time.
What surprised him was how sudden this talk had come.
Now it all made sense. Sengoku truly lived up to the title The Resourceful General.
First, he had Zephyr issue a report task to lull Darren into a false sense of security—making him drop his guard completely. Then, he struck without warning.
Darren had to admit: when Sengoku first opened his mouth, it had caught him entirely off guard—though none of that showed on his face.
Had his mental fortitude been any weaker, he might’ve already given himself away.
But based on how this conversation was going, Darren could tell—Sengoku had no real evidence. He wasn’t here to accuse. He simply wanted to confirm his suspicions… and send a warning.
Otherwise, Darren would already be surrounded by now.
With that realization, his thoughts grew sharper.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Admiral Sengoku, and what exactly makes you think the World Government trusts you?”
Sengoku blinked, momentarily stunned. He reflexively responded:
“How could they not trust me? As a Marine Admiral, I’ve faithfully carried out every directive issued by the World Government—”
“—Do you really believe that masters who sit atop the clouds truly ‘trust’ the watchdog guarding their gates?”
Darren cut in coldly.
Now he was gambling—gambling that the relationship between the Marines and the World Government wasn’t as unbreakable as it appeared.
With the intelligent, one must play an intelligent game.
And someone like Sengoku—clever by nature—was prone to suspicion.
Once doubt takes root, trust begins to fracture.
Even the slightest crack… was all Darren needed.
Sengoku opened his mouth.
But before he could respond, Darren sneered:
“Admiral Sengoku, allow me to tell you the real truth.”
“The orders I received from the World Government that day—had nothing to do with continuing the investigation into the Celestial Dragon’s death.”
“They were from the Gorosei… and they’d already begun to suspect that the attacker who killed Saint Shaldes… was a Marine.”
Sengoku’s face shifted slightly.
“The Gorosei suspected you?”
Darren said nothing. He simply smiled at Sengoku.
“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m the one who suspects you right now—”
Sengoku suddenly froze.
In that instant, a flood of thoughts surged through his mind.
If the Gorosei truly suspected Darren, they would never have allowed him to quietly investigate Marine personnel!
Sending Darren, a North Blue Commander, to probe the case meant only one thing: the Gorosei had already ruled him out as a suspect.
But if they didn’t suspect Darren… then who were they suspicious of!?
Sengoku’s expression darkened.
His mind reeled back to his own list of deductions about the possible culprit: immense strength… previous contact with the Celestial Dragon… potential flight capabilities… present in the North Blue at the time…
Wasn’t that his own fleet?
The strength was undeniable.
As a Marine Admiral, he had full knowledge of the government ship’s travel routes.
Flight ability wasn’t necessary—military vessels sufficed.
And at that very time, he was stationed in the North Blue, leading the campaign against Byrnndi World…
A chilling realization hit Sengoku like a brick.
Going by that logic—the prime suspect in the Celestial Dragon’s death… was himself?
The deeper he thought, the worse it felt.
He met every condition.
And when it came to knowledge of the government ship’s route—he surpassed Darren entirely!
After all, Darren, as a mere North Blue Commander back then, had no reason to know the exact return route of Saint Shaldes’ ship.
This had been Sengoku’s chief reason for suspecting, yet hesitating to confirm, Darren as the culprit.
Because in the North Blue at that time, the only one who would’ve known the precise return route of the World Government’s official ship… was himself—a Marine Admiral.
No wonder the World Government pulled him from the investigation…
No wonder those CP0 agents gave him such strange looks at the time…
Wait!
Sengoku suddenly recalled—just a few days ago, during his report to the Gorosei in the Holy Land, they had smiled at him… that cryptic, meaningful smile.
What was that supposed to mean?
Were they warning him?
Or had they already begun to suspect something?
In that moment, Sengoku’s mind raced faster than it ever had in his life. He began retracing every interaction he’d ever had with the Gorosei—every look, every word.
…
“Almost there…”
Watching Sengoku’s dazed, bewildered, contemplative, conflicted, and increasingly unsettled expressions, Darren’s lips curved slightly.
When playing against someone like Sengoku, the worst thing you could do was over-explain—it would only breed more doubt.
The key was to offer just enough information… and let him fill in the rest.
Most importantly:
What Darren had said—was true.
The World Government had indeed tasked him with investigating members of the Marines.
And Sengoku would never confront the Gorosei face-to-face and ask: “Are you suspecting the Marines? No—suspecting me?”
“I should really thank that ‘wise’ Saint Topman Warcury sometime…” Darren thought to himself with a wry smile, then sighed aloud:
“Admiral Sengoku, now do you understand how difficult my position was at the time?”
“Pressure from the very top of the World Government on one side… and on the other, my most trusted comrades, colleagues… and yes, superiors.”
Sengoku’s mouth twitched.
So, you emphasized ‘superiors’ on purpose, huh…
“Um… Darren…”
He hesitated, then cautiously asked:
“You… didn’t say anything… did you?”
Sengoku knew he had nothing to do with the Celestial Dragon’s death.
But to people like the Gorosei, did that even matter?
Whether the Celestial Dragon lived or died was irrelevant.
What mattered was—
The World Government was beginning to doubt him.
And that… could change the entire course of his political future.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 233: Chapter 135: I Challenge You for the First Seat
Summary:
“Power builds empires, but reputation chooses who may rise to lead them.”
Chapter Text
Even someone as composed and calculating as Sengoku couldn't help but tense slightly.
The Marines—while the most powerful enforcement force on the seas with relative military autonomy—were, in the end, a subordinate agency under the World Government.
Even if many within the organization privately disdained the Government’s authority, they still outwardly showed respect and obedience.
And as a high-ranking officer—currently the only active Marine Admiral—Sengoku could not afford to lose the trust of the Gorosei, the highest authority of the World Government.
Especially when it came to the position he was determined to seize: Fleet Admiral.
“Admiral Sengoku,” Darren said with a smile, eyes narrowing slightly, “do I look like the kind of man who’d betray his comrades, his friends… or his superiors?”
Sengoku: …
There he goes again—emphasizing ‘superiors.’ What’s he playing at this time?
“I’m well aware of where I stand.”
Darren continued with a gentle smile.
“The orders of the Gorosei are of course important. But unity within the Marines is even more critical.”
“That’s why, in the final report I submitted to the Gorosei, I made sure to emphasize your guidance and support throughout the investigation.”
Sengoku quietly exhaled, a smile easing onto his face. Approval glinted in his eyes.
“Mm. You’ve always handled things in a way I can trust.”
Darren nodded.
“What I needed to ensure most of all… was that the World Government would never lose faith in the Marines. That’s something none of us ever want to see.”
He lifted his gaze, meeting the eyes of the powerful Admiral before him. His tone sharpened with intent.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Admiral Sengoku?”
Sengoku paused.
Then, as if something clicked, he sighed deeply and nodded.
“You’re absolutely right.”
Darren chuckled.
“Well then, if there’s nothing more, I’ll take my leave.”
The so-called report had been just a pretense. Sengoku had summoned him for one reason—to test him.
Now that the test had been passed and an unspoken consensus reached, there was no longer any reason to linger.
Toki was still waiting for him at home for dinner.
“Mm.”
Sengoku gave a quiet grunt, then after a moment, smiled.
“How’s Toki adjusting to life here in Marineford?”
Darren smiled warmly.
“She seems to enjoy it here.”
Sengoku nodded thoughtfully, then asked:
“That’s good. If I’m not mistaken… she’s from Wano, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
Darren didn’t deny it.
The culture of Wano was distinct from the rest of the world’s islands and kingdoms. Toki’s true identity could never stay hidden forever.
Sengoku thought for a moment, then spoke slowly:
“Treat her well… and if you get the chance, see if you can gather any intelligence about Wano.”
“Understood, Admiral.”
Darren nodded.
“Then, I’ll be heading home.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
“Darren…”
Sengoku’s low voice came from behind, halting him mid-step.
“I’ll just say this—Lady Luck won’t always be on your side.”
Darren chuckled, not looking back.
“I don’t believe in luck, Admiral Sengoku.”
And with that, he pushed the door open and walked out.
As the heavy doors slowly closed behind him, Sengoku leaned back in his chair, eyes shut, massaging his temples.
After a long pause, he chuckled softly.
“What a clever little brat…”
He understood full well what Darren had meant.
‘We must never let the World Government lose trust in the Marines…’
That phrase struck Sengoku’s mind like lightning.
“There’s no point digging further…”
He sighed, silently clenching his fists.
The Celestial Dragon incident… must never be traced back to the Marines.
———
By the time Darren left Sengoku’s office, it was already dusk.
Across the distant harbor, golden light shimmered on the waves. The sea breeze brushed his face, and the tension in his body finally began to ease.
He let out a long breath, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a slow drag.
The smoke drifted upward, carrying his thoughts with it.
Sengoku wasn’t easy to fool—but for now, he was steady.
He was a smart man.
He would understand the implication.
The Marines could not afford to become the target of the Government’s suspicion.
So even if Sengoku truly found clues or evidence, for the sake of the institution as a whole, he’d never report it.
That was Darren’s leverage.
His identity had changed.
Former The Supreme Commander of the North Blue.
Personal disciple of Zephyr.
Hero of the Byrnndi World campaign.
Rising star, future Marine Admiral.
The one who destroyed the Beasts Pirates’ main base.
Name. Valor. Talent. Potential. Power.
He lacked nothing now.
If the World Government dared to move against him, the consequences would be massive.
Darren killed a Celestial Dragon?
Then what about Zephyr—should he be investigated too?
And Sengoku, who was in the North Blue at the time—should he be held accountable?
Would the entire North Blue fleet be called into question? Purged?
What if there were more Marines harboring anti-Government sentiments?
…
Once a witch hunt begins, it never ends.
The World Government could end up dismantling the Marines from the inside.
Strip their funding. Cripple their power.
That was the gamble Darren was playing.
And he was betting that Sengoku wouldn’t dare roll the dice.
Huu…
He finished the cigarette and exhaled the final plume of smoke, grinding the butt under his boot.
“Time to head home.”
He muttered softly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
But just as he lifted his foot—
A tall figure suddenly appeared in his path.
Framed by the golden sunset,
Gion stood before him, her breathing labored, hand gripping her sword. Her white Marine cape fluttered behind her, eyes cold and unwavering.
“Gion?”
Darren blinked, caught off guard.
He noticed the bruises on her arms, the weariness on her face—clear signs of intense training.
What was she doing here?
“Rogers Darren, cadet of the Third Elite Officer Training Camp—”
Gion took a deep breath, both hands gripping her golden blade. Her gaze was firm, her tone resolute.
“I challenge you for the first seat!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 234: Chapter 136: You're Not Allowed to Leave
Summary:
“Strength may clash through blades, but it is emotion that leaves the deepest wounds.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Training grounds. The dusk-lit field.
Golden sand danced beneath the fading rays of twilight.
“Are you really sure about this, Gion…? You're not exactly in the best condition right now.”
Darren looked at her with a trace of helplessness in his voice.
He didn’t even need to rely on his bio-magnetic sensing; the exhaustion was written all over Gion’s face.
But Gion remained unmoved, replying coldly:
“You’re not at full strength either, are you?”
Darren shook his head.
“If you want to challenge me, I’m always up for it. But there’s no need to do it right now.”
“No. It has to be now.”
She glanced toward the blood-red evening sky, the sun dipping beneath the horizon. Gritting her teeth, she muttered:
“It might sound unreasonable, but you know my temper, don’t you?”
Darren: …
Great. Looks like those two sarcastic remarks are going to haunt me forever.
He’d never realized she could hold a grudge like this.
“…Fine. If you insist—”
He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Gion suddenly drew her blade. Her figure shot forward like a gust of wind, blade flashing as she struck.
Her weapon—a renowned sword at least on the level of the Twenty-One Great Grade blades, Konpira—burst with blinding light. The blade glinted like lightning, flashing forward.
The air screamed with sharp vibrations. The strength behind her slash was already quite formidable!
Darren’s eyes lit up.
So this was the future Admiral-candidate—Gion. Even Zephyr himself had praised her swordsmanship and talent.
In an instant, Darren expanded his magnetic field. With no warning, he shifted his body sideways.
Her slash brushed past the ends of his hair and buried itself deep into the ground.
Riiip—!!
The blade tore through the earth, carving a trench several dozen meters long across the field, sending clouds of golden dust surging upward.
Seeing the sheer destructive force of that strike, Darren’s eyelid twitched.
Yup. She’s really pissed…
Her first strike missed—but Gion didn’t hesitate. She changed stance fluidly.
Her wrist twisted, and pitch-black Armament Haki flowed swiftly onto Konpira. She dragged the blade sideways toward Darren’s waist.
Her swordsmanship really is sharp.
That thought passed through Darren’s mind as blue arcs of electricity danced across his fingertips.
A silent magnetic field rippled outward. Gion’s expression shifted ever so slightly as she felt an unseen force latch onto her blade, slowing it mid-swing.
Darren casually stepped back, dodging without effort.
“Why aren’t you fighting back!? Do you look down on me!?”
Gion bit her lip and charged again, swinging fiercely.
Blade after blade poured down like a storm. Like spilled ink, her strikes flooded toward Darren, cloaking him in a storm of steel.
Darren sighed inwardly.
He calmly parried every blow, his mind steady.
He’d never trained in swordsmanship systematically—but he didn’t need to. He’d stood before Roger himself and witnessed Divine Departure with his own eyes.
More than that, he’d fought Bullet, Queen, Kaido—battle-tested against legends.
Compared to when he left the North Blue, both his strength and perspective had ascended to terrifying heights.
To his eyes, Gion’s moves—though fierce and relentless—were filled with raw emotion, lacking in adaptability and control.
Like a child flailing in anger, she wasn’t trying to win—she was venting.
She was recklessly burning the last of her stamina, unleashing newly acquired Haki without restraint.
Like a flood bursting its banks, throwing out all her emotions in a wave.
With that realization, Darren’s expression softened.
He gave up dodging. Instead, he coated his hands in Armament Haki and began blocking her strikes head-on—like a human target.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The sounds of metal clashing rang out again and again, sparks lighting up Gion’s eyes—now lined faintly with red.
One minute passed.
Three minutes.
Five…
Ten minutes…
As time wore on, Gion’s movements grew noticeably sluggish. Her overuse of Haki was taking a toll, her stamina clearly nearing its end.
Her breathing grew ragged. Her complexion turned pale.
At that moment, Darren suddenly raised his hand.
CLANG!!
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
His darkened fingers seized Konpira mid-strike, sparks flying from the force of the impact.
The training ground fell still.
Gion stared at her sword—gripped tightly in Darren’s hand. She tried to yank it free—but it didn’t budge.
“Feeling any better now?”
Darren asked calmly.
Those words struck something in her. Her face stiffened.
The fire in her eyes flickered. Fatigue surged up her spine. The ever-cold glint in her gaze now shimmered red, her knees visibly trembling.
Darren released the blade, his gaze softening.
“Go rest. Get some sleep.”
He looked up at the sky.
By now, the sun had fully set. Night was beginning to fall. Only the faintest streak of twilight clung stubbornly to the distant horizon.
From the direction of the residential quarters, thin trails of cooking smoke were rising into the air.
Noticing his gaze, Gion bit her lip.
“No. We haven’t finished this fight.”
She gripped her sword tightly and forced her weary body to stand.
Her legs shook.
Darren blinked, frowning.
“You’ve reached your limit…”
“—I said it’s not over!! You’re not allowed to leave!!”
Gion shouted, eyes red.
She lunged forward, sword in hand.
But the moment she stepped, her strength gave out.
Darren lunged to catch her.
She crashed hard into his chest. Her neatly tied hair came undone, black locks cascading like a waterfall.
“Let… let go of me!”
A faint blush crossed her cheeks—quickly masked.
She struggled in his arms, trying to break free.
“You can’t even stand properly…”
Darren gave a helpless chuckle.
“I’ll take you back first, then head home… don’t worry, I won’t take advantage.”
“No…”
Gion’s lips were pale, but she still shook her head.
Darren frowned slightly.
But then something caught his attention.
From the moment Gion had appeared—she’d been watching the sky.
And her swordplay—unlike before, it didn’t aim for swift victory. Instead, it felt like… stalling. Like she was trying to wear him down.
No way—
An absurd thought surfaced in Darren’s mind.
Was Gion deliberately trying to exhaust me… to stop me from going home?
More precisely—not letting him go home to… do anything “bad”?
No… surely not…
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Still, he cautiously asked:
“Gion, can I be honest with you about something…”
“Ahem…”
“The truth is—I haven’t done anything like that with Toki.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Darren froze.
Because he realized—
The Gion in his arms… had suddenly stopped struggling.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Darren x Gion — What really happens next?
(Important context: Gion is exhausted, can’t walk on her own, and Darren has to carry her home. But what happens next… is up to fate—or you.)
1. “...And they were roommates.”
→ Gion finally confesses. Darren, gentlemanly but not made of stone, lets the night take its course.
(° ͜ʖ °)♡
2. “Thanks for carrying me… that’s it.”
→ Gion opens up, but Darren respectfully drops her off, says goodnight, and walks away like a stoic anime hero.
(。•̀ᴗ-)✧
3. “Let’s not talk about it…”
→ Gion says nothing, but Darren senses the vibe… and acts on it.
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ノ⌒♥
4. “Totally innocent… probably.”
→ He carries her home. Helps her get comfortable. Says goodnight.
Nothing happened.
…Right?
(¬_¬)ゞ
Chapter 235: Chapter 137 Title (shown at the end)
Summary:
“Beneath the armor of pride lies a trembling heart, and in the silence of the night, even rogues may falter.”
Notes:
Before we get into it…
The full title of this chapter? Well… you’ll understand it when you get there.
Meanwhile, don’t forget to check out the poll and vote on what really happened that night. Trust me—you’ll want to weigh in.
Now then… let’s begin.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
So... it really turned out like this...
So this is Gion's tsundere version of “No lewd thoughts allowed”?
Darren’s lips twitched, then he couldn’t help but shake his head with a wry smile.
Looking down at the girl curled motionlessly in his arms, he suddenly felt a headache coming on.
Her long hair spilled across her shoulders like black ink, its luster stark against the snow-white Marine coat draped over her.
In those obsidian eyes of hers, a faint flush of red rimmed the sockets—betraying a mixture of frustration and grievance.
Yet her stubborn, prideful nature wouldn’t allow the slightest show of weakness. Coupled with that graceful, ethereal face, it gave off a charm all her own.
Perhaps due to preconceived notions from before crossing over, he had always imagined Gion with the mature aura and beauty of her original “Onee-san” portrayal in the plot.
But the truth was, during this period of time, Gion was still just a girl in her early teens.
At that age, especially with her noble background, a bit of headstrong pride and tsundere temperament was completely natural.
“Feeling a bit better now?”
Darren looked down at Gion, who was snuggled in his embrace like a quiet kitten, all traces of her usual defiance gone. He smiled teasingly.
“…What does it have to do with you…”
Gion turned her head away, unable to meet Darren’s gaze.
Her voice was so soft it was barely louder than a whisper.
Darren chuckled, feeling the delicate weight pressing against his chest. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly, then gently said:
“You should get some rest early, alright?”
“Your body has already reached its limit.”
“…It’s none of your business…”
Gion muttered through clenched lips.
Darren shrugged with a grin.
“That won’t do. If you end up with some lingering injury because you challenged me... Admiral Sengoku, Vice-Admiral Tsuru, and Zephyr-sensei might never let me off the hook.”
Before she could argue, Darren gave her no chance.
With a small gasp from Gion, he slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her waist, effortlessly scooping her up into a bridal carry.
The soft fragrance and warm suppleness of her body pressed into him, and even someone as battle-hardened as Darren felt his thoughts waver slightly.
Years of physical training had left Gion with a slender waist, narrow enough to grasp in one hand. Paired with her exaggerated bust, the contrast delivered a strong visual impact.
Her thighs were smooth and springy, long legs taut and graceful, swaying gently in the air.
From Darren’s angle, her high-heeled feet revealed each toe clearly, like glimmering translucent jade.
“D-Darren… what are you trying to do!?”
Gion suddenly cried out, panic flaring in her eyes.
This utterly embarrassing posture shattered her cold exterior. Her cheeks blazed as she pressed against his shoulder in flustered resistance.
“Don’t squirm. Or I really might take advantage of you.”
That one line silenced her instantly.
“…Hold on tight.”
With Gion in his arms, Darren tapped his foot against the ground and leapt into the air.
As they soared at high speed, Gion had no choice but to wrap her arms around Darren’s neck to stay balanced.
Feeling this bastard holding her tighter and tighter, her face flushed deeper.
‘Thank goodness it’s already night… he probably can’t see.’
She muttered silently to herself.
In less than five minutes, Darren had arrived at her residence inside the family quarters.
He curled his finger slightly—click!—the lock shot off the door and clattered to the side.
“D-Don’t go in!”
Gion’s expression turned frantic.
“That won’t do.”
Darren grinned at her nervous expression, only growing more curious about what lay inside.
Ignoring her protests, he pushed the door open and entered.
Unlike Darren’s own home, which Toki had decorated with subtle, plain elegance, Gion’s room was warm and… well, downright cute.
Fluffy bunny plushies were scattered all over. The dominant color scheme was a soft, tender pink.
“Well now, this is unexpected. So Miss Ice Queen actually has such a girlish side.”
Darren’s gaze turned mischievous as he looked around. He couldn’t help but tease her, putting on an exaggerated tone:
“Miss Gion, you wouldn’t want the secrets of your bedroom to be leaked, would you?”
Gion’s face turned crimson—so red it looked like it might start dripping.
“P-Put me down this instant…”
“Alright, alright.”
Darren had to admit, seeing the usually cold and distant Gion with such an embarrassed expression was quite the charming contrast.
He gently placed her onto the bed.
After a moment’s pause, he suddenly knelt down and reached for her ankle.
“What are you doing!?”
Gion’s heart lurched. Was this scoundrel actually planning to take advantage of her?
“I said I wasn’t taking advantage.”
Darren replied irritably, gently untying the strap of her high heel and helping her remove the shoe.
Looking at his clear, focused gaze—and the way he handled her foot without a trace of indecency—
Gion’s clenched fists slowly relaxed.
She didn’t say anything, only bit her lip harder.
“All done.”
Darren gave a small smile as he stood up.
“Well, today’s sparring was enjoyable.”
“I should get going.”
Gion raised her eyes to look at him—but the moment their gazes met, she looked away again.
Then, as if realizing that made her look too weak, she bit her lip and forced herself to look at him directly.
“Today… this kind of thing… was just because I was exhausted! Don’t think you can do whatever you want next time!”
“Otherwise… I won’t forgive you!”
Darren raised his hands.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
“You hate guys like me—scumbags, degenerates, perverts…”
“I understand.”
He walked over and tucked the blanket around her.
“Get some good rest.”
With that, Darren turned and walked quickly out of the room.
Several seconds passed before Gion’s head slowly peeked out from under the covers.
She gazed out the window, watching the scoundrel’s silhouette fade into the night.
After a long pause, she murmured softly:
“…Surprisingly gentle. And kind.”
Her thoughts drifted back to that moment of being carried in his arms… to the sense of safety in his broad chest. She didn’t know what she was thinking anymore—only that every place he’d touched felt faintly tingly, as though charged with electricity.
Her cheeks, which had just returned to normal, once again flushed pink.
“Snap out of it!”
Suddenly she smacked both cheeks hard, gritting her teeth.
“That guy is the worst kind of degenerate! A scumbag! A pervert!”
———
Outside Gion’s residence, Darren leaned against the wall, quietly lighting a cigarette under the moonlight.
Smoke curled around his face, his expression shifting with a tangled mess of emotions.
Only after finishing the whole cigarette did he finally slap himself hard across the face and curse:
“Damn it!”
“I actually acted like a gentleman!?”
His face was full of regret.
---
To be continued...
Notes:
And with that, the night ended.
(Or so he thought.)
Chapter 137: I Actually Acted Like a Gentleman?!
Chapter 236: Chapter 138: No Relation, Or Maybe There Is
Summary:
"Some things we deny with our words, yet our hearts whisper them in silence."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The night was beguiling.
Moonlight filtered through the glass window in scattered flecks, casting soft glows upon the pink bunny plush near the bed.
Gion had been lying on the bed for half an hour before the blush on her cheeks finally began to fade.
Propping up her exhausted body, she sat up and took off her Marine coat.
After a whole day of intense training and the duel with Darren, sweat clung to her skin, leaving a sticky, unpleasant feeling.
She was someone who valued cleanliness—falling asleep without a shower was simply unacceptable.
As this thought passed, she blushed again—recalling how Darren had carried her home, and the way he'd looked at her toes while removing her shoes.
"He… he didn’t smell my sweat, right?"
Her mind was a storm of scattered thoughts as she dragged her tired body toward the bathroom and turned on the hot water.
Suddenly—
Knock knock knock—
The abrupt knocking startled her.
Was he back!?
She panicked, her usual toughness vanishing without a trace. Like a startled rabbit, she dove back into her blanket.
"Ahem… Gion, it’s me."
A familiar voice called from outside.
It was Tsuru.
Not… that scoundrel?
Relief flooded her—but oddly, a faint trace of disappointment crept in too.
Remembering how she’d just reacted, her face flushed again.
"I’m here, Tsuru-neesan."
Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and called back.
Tsuru stepped in.
Seeing Gion sitting at the edge of the bed, her limbs dotted with bruises, a flicker of pain passed through Tsuru’s eyes.
She shook her head softly.
"I came to check on you."
Gion blinked. "I’m fine, Tsuru-neesan."
"You… always say that."
Tsuru gave her a half-amused, half-resigned look and sat down beside her.
"Earlier this evening, I ran into Tokikake."
"That boy had bruises all over his face, his torso wrapped in bandages and casts. The moment he saw me, he dropped to his knees and started bawling, wailing about injustice…"
She massaged her temples.
"Did you take your frustration out on him again?"
Gion pressed her lips together. "He wasn’t hurt at first… It’s just—during training, he tried to grope my butt, so I lost it."
Tsuru: …
"…Good. He deserved it."
After a pause, Tsuru asked thoughtfully:
"Then why did you go looking for trouble with Darren?"
Gion stiffened.
"How did you know…?"
"You, standing outside Admiral Sengoku’s office with a drawn sword, scared half the base."
Gion’s cheeks turned crimson. She said nothing.
Tsuru frowned and, after a moment, asked suddenly:
"Gion… be honest with me. Do you like Darren?"
"—Of course I don’t!!"
Gion flared up before the question was even finished.
"He’s lewd! He’s messy! He’s arrogant, insufferable—"
Tsuru just looked at her calmly.
"…He’s the greatest disgrace in Marine history. I—I could never like…"
Her voice trailed off beneath Tsuru’s gaze.
The elder woman sighed silently.
With her experience, it was all too easy to see what Gion hadn’t admitted yet.
"Then that’s good."
Tsuru patted her shoulder.
"No big deal. I just wanted to check on you. You seem alright, so I’m relieved."
She rose slowly.
"Rest early, Gion. Don’t be so reckless next time."
"Also…"
She pointed at the dusty boot prints on the floor with a teasing smile:
"Next time that boy comes over, make him take off his shoes."
Gion turned beet red.
She opened her mouth, but Tsuru waved her off.
"It’s fine. You’re growing up—I understand."
"That Darren brat may be a scoundrel in many ways, but he has his good points too."
"At your age, it’s only natural to be drawn to bad boys."
"If you really like him, don’t hold back. You’ll need to work for it."
"I’ve met the girl he brought back from the New World—she may look gentle, but she’s stronger and more composed than you."
"…Yes, yes. I know you don’t like him. I’m just saying."
She smiled, dodging Gion’s flustered glare.
"Rest well."
………
In the bathroom, steam rose.
Gion curled up in the tub, hugging her knees, chest pressed into a dramatic curve.
Her head sank into the bubbles, her fair face glowing red.
Blub… blub…
Like a fish blowing bubbles, she stared vacantly into the water.
Though she denied it aloud, Tsuru’s words kept echoing in her heart.
Could it be… she did like that bastard?
No. Impossible.
He was a pervert!
Still… she couldn’t forget how his fingers had subtly shifted when holding her…
And the way he looked at her feet—he’d hidden it well, but in hindsight, there was something lustful there.
"Gion, are you stupid? You cannot like someone like that…"
She dunked her head under the water, overwhelmed.
When did this start?
Was it when he singlehandedly took down Germa 66?
Or when he defended her from the Celestial Dragons?
No… it was when she saw that father and daughter alive again.
"I took the money. So I deliver."
His calm, confident, ruthless voice echoed in her mind.
—He’d protected the people she couldn’t save.
That was when she realized how naive she’d been.
She’d misjudged him.
From that moment on, even if she pretended otherwise, she began to observe him.
She stood behind him during training.
Watched him push himself to the limit. And even when exhausted, she found strength to follow.
Memories of their time in the North Blue, their debates, arguments—all resurfaced.
And she realized…
He had always accommodated her.
Silently. Gently.
Her heart became tangled.
Curiosity turned to remorse, then admiration.
She even pulled files using Sengoku and Tsuru’s clearance.
She saw it all:
Blood. Struggle. Wounds. War. Fire.
From the very bottom, he’d clawed his way up.
The glory of the “King of the North Blue” hid mountains of pain.
Political schemes, power struggles, death battles, financial control…
He protected the North Blue in his own way, upheld his own justice.
And what shocked her most:
As a Marine who rose from nothing, he should’ve been cautious.
But he wasn’t.
Even against the Celestial Dragons—he didn’t hesitate to kill.
No evidence. Just instinct.
She believed it. Darren wouldn’t flinch—not even before the world’s rulers.
Back at Marineford, she began to see things differently.
All her suitors, those ‘noble’ young elites—compared to Darren?
Worthless.
Once you’ve seen the sun, candles no longer impress.
When a woman feels curiosity, pity, and awe… affection soon follows.
So when he was injured in the New World, she worried deeply.
Seeing Toki in his house, she felt jealous—and ashamed.
But thinking of Darren’s wounds, she bought the freshest fruit and brought it over anyway.
Still—
"How could he say that about me!?"
Gion sat up, gasping.
She leaned back against the tub wall, staring at the misty ceiling.
A long silence.
"…Is my temper really that bad?"
Covering her face, she whispered.
Then her gaze sharpened.
"It’s fine. I was here first."
———
Darren had always considered himself a free spirit. Even back in the North Blue—or after moving to HQ—he rarely went home early. That cold, empty ‘house’ never called to him.
He wasn’t attached to any home. Few friends he could trust. Years of solitude.
But now—
He saw a lamp lit in the family quarters at midnight. A gentle figure sitting under the oil light, quietly waiting.
Even someone as guarded as him couldn’t help but be moved.
A home. A light. A woman. A table of cooled food.
Perhaps… this was the meaning of “home.”
A warmth filled his heart as he stepped inside.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You should’ve eaten. You must be hungry.”
Toki, clad in a pink, flowing kimono, opened her eyes and smiled as she approached.
Taking his Marine coat, she hung it up with natural grace.
“It’s alright. I’m not hungry.”
“And I wanted to wait for you.”
Darren turned to change shoes. “I’ll come back earlier from now on.”
“Did you send her home safely?”
His hand froze.
Toki smiled. “You smell like her—roses. I remembered it from this morning.”
His lips twitched.
He was still scrambling for an excuse when her soft voice came from behind:
“I thought it would be ‘no big deal’… but turns out, it does matter.”
“Toki…”
“Darren.”
He turned.
His pupils shrank. Mind went blank.
Boom!
A fiery explosion lit up his brain.
He saw a sight he would never forget.
Toki’s kimono slipped away, revealing skin like white jade, her figure slender and graceful.
She unpinned her hair and stood there, face flushed, but her eyes calm and resolute.
Softly, bravely, she spoke:
“...Be my husband.”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
Alright, you degenerates.
I know what you think is coming next.
And maybe you're right.
Or maybe… you’re not. (¬‿¬)
Got predictions? Wild guesses? Emotional damage to share?
Drop them in the comments. (⌐■_■)
Chapter 237: Chapter 139: An Unparalleled Beauty
Summary:
“When beauty blooms without restraint, even the proudest heart trembles.”
Chapter Text
“Toki… she’s completely lost it…”
So bold?
Darren’s eyes widened in shock.
His mind went utterly blank—completely frozen.
There were no words to describe the scene before him.
The warm glow of the oil lamp bathed the room in soft, dreamlike light. Standing there was a peerless beauty in a kimono, her sash undone. Pale green hair draped over her smooth, snowy shoulders.
She wore nothing except a pair of white thigh-high socks.
Those sapphire-black eyes shimmered like rippling water, gazing at Darren with shyness and warmth. Her cheeks glowed with a soft blush.
Toki stood in front of an elegant ukiyo-e style screen. Rising slightly on her toes, she looked both timid and inviting. Her long lashes trembled as her slender arms opened gently, exuding a breathtaking beauty tinged with sorrow.
Even Darren, who had seen countless faces in his lifetime, was stunned.
The irritation still burning in him after his exchange with Gion ignited into a blazing fire in the presence of this tender and flawless vision.
Instinct pierced through his soul and will in an instant.
‘If I don’t act now, am I even a man!?’
…
By the time Darren came back to his senses, the room was a complete mess.
His Marine uniform lay scattered on the floor. He was sprawled on the soft tatami mat, the oil lamp beside them long extinguished.
The night was quiet. Moonlight was seductive.
The stars overhead shimmered like pearls scattered across a net, shining down through the courtyard window and falling softly on the girl sleeping in his arms.
Darren let out a long breath. Toki was nestled against his chest, her body soft and boneless.
Now fully awake, he gave a helpless smile.
He hadn't expected Toki to be so forward—she really went all in.
Who could possibly resist that!?
Toki's beauty was unique.
She had the elegance and restraint of a traditional Wano woman—gentle, graceful, yet with a deep, almost terrifying resolve.
If Gion was a proud and cold-blooming rose, then Toki was the sorrowful, radiant cherry blossom.
This was the essence of Wano's culture.
That closed-off nation didn’t just breed samurai who revered Bushido. Even their women believed that a single brilliant bloom, no matter how brief, was worth a lifetime.
There was a poem that captured it best:
“Let life burn like summer flowers, and let death fall like autumn leaves.”
A fleeting dance.
This was the essence of traditional Japanese spirit—Wano, in all its elegance and restraint, carried that soul within its blood.
Still, even Darren never imagined that such a serene girl could take such a bold step.
Jealousy was a dangerous thing.
He’d just soothed Gion, and now this.
It was…
It was…
It was freaking awesome.
A grin tugged at Darren’s lips as his hands—still wrapped around the girl—started to move restlessly again.
Just the right fit.
“Mm…”
Toki let out a soft whimper, stirring gently in his embrace. Her tiny nose scrunched slightly, lashes fluttering as a blush returned to her cheeks.
Darren laughed and whispered in a low, teasing voice:
“Don’t pretend to be asleep, Toki.”
Toki finally opened her eyes, her long lashes trembling.
Her sapphire-black pupils shimmered with moisture as she gave him a shy but annoyed glance. That lazy, sensual elegance flowed naturally from her brows—refined, mature.
In that moment, the lines between youthful innocence and mature grace blurred perfectly.
Moonlight danced on her face, making her gaze glow even more vividly. There was something mysterious and otherworldly about it.
That unparalleled beauty hit Darren like a tidal wave.
His heart pounded wildly.
She looked like a dream—so breathtakingly unreal.
Swallowing hard, the fire inside him roared back to life.
“How about… another round?”
Toki gave him a sideways glance—soft and sultry, tinged with a wifely allure.
Her tone remained sweet and tender:
“A-Aren’t you satisfied yet…”
Darren’s eyes flicked with mischief. He suddenly smirked.
“How about this time… in the kimono?”
Toki blinked, then seemed to realize what he meant…
Her face turned scarlet.
———
The next morning.
Darren woke up in bed.
“…Crap.”
He could feel it—his whole body felt stiff.
His muscles ached. His legs were weak.
He felt… drained.
“…Did she actually wring me dry?”
His lips twitched.
He instinctively checked his “physical stats,” and after confirming there was no major change, let out a sigh of relief.
It was probably the lingering effect of trying to suppress Enma’s power previously, compounded by last night’s ‘battle.’
Looking down at Toki—still fast asleep on his chest—Darren couldn’t help but recall the kind of night that would “require redacting ten thousand words,” and smiled like any satisfied man would.
Toki was now his woman.
Which meant… Momonosuke must die?
Scratching his stubbly chin, Darren mused darkly.
After lying there for a few minutes,
He gently kissed Toki on the forehead, then slowly pulled his arm out from under her and got up without waking her.
Her constitution was that of a normal woman—unlike his monster-like endurance. She needed more rest after such ‘training.’
Throwing on his Marine uniform, Darren made a simple breakfast in the kitchen, left a portion for her, then munched on a boiled egg and limped to the door.
The moment he opened it—he froze.
Completely paralyzed.
There stood Gion, holding a steaming breakfast in one hand, her other hand raised, just about to knock.
Their eyes locked.
Gion stared at Darren, who was clutching the wall and his waist.
Darren: …
A pained, pitiful smile crept onto his face.
“Husband, are you heading out?”
A soft, gentle voice called from behind.
Darren felt as though lightning had struck him.
Stiffly, he turned around—
Toki was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his white shirt, her face flushed with the afterglow of joy.
She glanced at Gion and gave a calm, gentle smile.
“Good morning, Miss Gion.”
Gion stood frozen.
Clatter—
The breakfast fell from her hands. Soy milk spilled across the ground.
A chill crept up Darren’s spine.
He felt a murderous aura start to emanate from her.
Gion slowly turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were shaded and unreadable.
“Husband?” she echoed.
Darren’s eye twitched.
Then Gion smiled.
To Darren, it was terrifying.
“Well, congratulations… Commodore Darren.”
And with that, she turned and left.
Her back to them, tears welled up in her reddening eyes—and spilled down her cheeks.
Darren: “…”
Staring at Gion’s devastated figure, he reached out—then pulled his hand back.
He stood in silence for a long moment.
Then finally gritted his teeth.
“I really need to learn Observation Haki!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 238: Chapter 140: A Burning Desire to Win
Summary:
“Pride resists, desire provokes, but love—love demands an answer."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Watching Gion’s figure disappear at the end of the street, Darren could clearly see the shimmering trail of tears beneath her chin. His shoulders slumped.
Damn it. He’d only just managed to coax her back into a good mood yesterday…
Who could’ve guessed this proud, cold little tsundere would be so thoughtful—waking up early to buy him breakfast, even delivering it right to his door?
And even if he had learned Observation Haki… what good would it do?
What kind of psycho scans their own home with Haki every morning?
That’s not normal behavior. That’s creepy.
He looked down at the scattered breakfast on the ground and sighed, gathering it up casually.
If it were anyone else, the womanizing scoundrel in him might’ve shamelessly thrown an arm around her and grinned, “You came at the perfect time.”
But things were different now.
Toki had just given herself to him. No matter how unfaithful he might be in spirit, Darren couldn’t bring himself to flirt with another woman right in front of her.
He might be a refined disgrace, but he wasn’t completely devoid of a moral line.
He could love freely—but not cruelly.
“Miss Gion seems to care a lot about you,”
Toki walked over, her voice soft and delicate.
Darren shook his head, avoiding the topic. He smiled instead, concern in his eyes.
“You’re up early. Why not sleep a little longer?”
He paused.
“…Are you still hurting?”
At the memory of last night’s chaos, a blush crept across Toki’s cheeks.
“A-a little…”
She slipped her arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder.
“To become your wife… I’m very happy.”
Then, with natural grace, she took the breakfast from his hands and nudged the stunned Darren.
“Go after her. Miss Gion is a good girl. Don’t disappoint her.”
Toki winked playfully.
“This time it really doesn’t matter—because I became your wife first.”
Under Darren’s bewildered gaze, her smile curved like a mischievous kitten.
“I won. Heehee.”
…
Unfolding his bio-magnetic field, Darren quickly located Gion.
She was in the family quarters.
From the rooftop of a distant house, Darren gazed at the lone figure curled by the wall, quietly sobbing, and hesitated. He didn’t approach right away.
In front of the house—
Gion hugged her knees, eyes red and swollen, her shoulders trembling.
Fat teardrops spilled endlessly down her pale cheeks.
She looked like a wounded rabbit, hiding in the corner, silently licking her wounds.
“Bastard!!”
“Bastard!!”
“Darren is such a bastard!!”
She sobbed and cursed, kicking a small stone nearby. Her eyes were puffy with tears.
She didn’t even know what hurt more—
That Darren had lied to her?
That he looked so guilty when he saw her?
Or that she caught that faint victorious smile behind his mask?
“That shameless, disgusting, perverted scumbag!!”
She spat through tears.
“If you keep cursing me, I really won’t go easy on you…”
A helpless voice suddenly rang out.
Gion flinched.
She looked up in shock and saw a tall figure leaping down from the wall.
Her eyes turned even redder.
“What are you doing here!?”
“You bastard!! Get lost!! I don’t want to see you!!”
Her voice cracked as she screamed—anger and heartbreak overflowing.
Darren sighed.
“I figured you hadn’t eaten yet. You must be hungry.”
“Yell at me after breakfast. That way, you’ll have more energy. Heck, if you want, you can beat me up.”
He lifted the bag in his hand and offered a small smile.
Gion stared blankly at the food he’d just bought, then recalled the scene from earlier. Her nose twitched, tears welling again.
“I don’t need you to care!”
“You already have her, don’t you!?”
“You’re a liar! A giant liar!!”
“You told me nothing happened yesterday… but today… she’s wearing your shirt!”
“I was there first!! Waaaahhh—”
Tears poured down like broken pearls.
Darren’s lip twitched.
Well, technically nothing had happened last night… until Toki suddenly flipped the whole game board over.
This was supposed to be a drawn-out love triangle—but she just sneak-attacked her way to the ending.
Was it really his fault?
Any man who could resist that… wouldn’t be called a disgrace.
But of course, he couldn’t say any of this.
Unless he wanted to die.
So instead, he smiled gently:
“Don’t be mad. Here—eat a little something.”
“I don’t want it! I won’t eat your food!”
Gion wiped her tears, glaring stubbornly.
This girl’s way too stubborn… Darren thought.
Time for the direct approach.
He set the breakfast down and slowly walked toward her.
“D-don’t come any closer!”
Gion instinctively stood up and backed away.
But soon, her back hit the wall.
The closer he got, the more her heart raced.
What’s he trying to do…?
His eyes burned with intensity.
He was a disgrace…
She reminded herself again.
Finally, Darren stood before her, staring into her eyes.
“Do you like me, Gion?”
“You—you’re too close…”
His masculine scent washed over her—bold, untamed, domineering.
He’s a disgrace.
But… do I really like such a man?
Her gaze faltered.
“Do you like me?” Darren asked again.
“W-who likes you!? Don’t flatter yourself—”
Thud!
Darren grabbed her hands with his left, pulled them overhead, and pinned them to the wall.
She struggled—but his strength was overwhelming.
Then—
His right hand gently cupped her cheek, his warm fingers lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
She froze completely.
It felt like electricity surged through her.
What was he doing…?
But in his eyes, she saw something unexpected—
Dominance. Wildness. Coldness.
And… gentleness.
“Gion,” he said softly. “This is the last time I’ll ask you.”
“Do you like me?”
“If you say no, I’ll walk away. I won’t ever bother you again.”
“After training camp, I’ll request a transfer to the New World. You’ll never have to see this disgrace again.”
Gion froze.
Her face turned pale.
“I… I…”
Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t bring herself to say, “I don’t like you.”
Then—
“Mm!”
Her lips were suddenly sealed.
In that moment of hesitation, Darren acted.
He kissed her—fierce, deep, unyielding.
Their lips locked.
Her mind went blank.
Her wide, tear-filled eyes froze. Her pupils shrank tight.
She tried to resist—but Darren didn’t let go.
One second…
Two seconds…
Three…
Her body tingled and went numb.
Her eyes lost focus, slowly closing.
Reflexively, she kissed back.
Without realizing it—
Darren released her wrists.
Gion wrapped her arms around his neck, lost in the moment.
Until—
“Ahh…”
Darren gasped.
She’d shoved him away—hard.
Blood welled from his lip.
Gion’s eyes were still dazed, her breath ragged, body trembling.
“…So you do like me.”
Darren smirked.
“Shut up!”
“If you hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t be able to talk.”
“No, you shut up!”
Like a hunting panther, Gion pounced, grabbed him, and with a roar, slammed him into the house.
Onto her bed—still pink and bunny-filled—Darren landed with a thud.
Before he could react, Gion straddled him, strong legs locking him in place.
Tears still glistening in her eyes, she glared at him.
“How many times did you do it with her?”
“Uh?”
Darren blinked. Under her murderous gaze, he stammered:
“T-three…”
Her eyes lit up with fierce determination.
She ripped open his belt.
“Gion! Calm down! I-I’m still recovering!”
Seeing the gritted teeth, the fire in her eyes, Darren panicked.
Darren: (っ°Д°;)っ
Her competitive streak just kicked in!!
He was already sore and aching—if they really started comparing rounds…
And then—
Darren: (///▽///)
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Score update:
Toki – 3
Gion – ???
Darren – pleading for mercy
Chapter 239: Chapter 141: Seven... Seven Times...
Summary:
"Victory isn't measured by strength alone, but by how long you can endure what you secretly desire."
Chapter Text
Two hours later.
The door suddenly creaked open.
One hand braced against the doorframe, Darren staggered out, pale-faced, clutching the wall for support.
He all but fled the housing complex, collapsed onto a nearby stone bench, and wordlessly pulled out a cigarette.
Lighting it between his lips, he took several harsh drags before finally catching his breath.
"Insane... That was insane..."
"A woman possessed by her need to win... truly terrifying..."
Four times!
And that was with Gion holding back because she was still sore.
Unlike the delicate and gentle Toki, Gion had the stamina of someone trained for combat. Her long legs were toned, powerful—utterly relentless.
This was the same girl who could launch Rankyaku kicks with ease!
Sure, the view from below was... pristine, dazzling—no, beautiful. But still!
Feeling his trembling legs and aching lower back, Darren wore an expression that screamed silent suffering.
Seven times...
His lips twitched. He violently stubbed out the cigarette.
What good is this monstrous physique if it only gets me tortured like this!?
Shaking his head, Darren let out a long sigh.
Slowly rising, he looked around to get his bearings, then limped off toward a nearby restaurant.
Time to replenish nutrients.
Holding his back the entire way, Darren ignored the strange, pitying stares of passing civilians. He'd long grown numb to them.
"Darren?"
The moment he entered, a familiar voice rang out. Kuzan, beaming with surprise and joy, waved him over.
"What a coincidence!!"
"Sit here! I just ordered—let's eat together!"
Darren blinked, then shrugged and took the seat opposite him.
"What are you doing here?"
He raised a hand to the owner for a bottle of sake.
Kuzan frowned.
"I live in this neighborhood, you know? You're supposed to be my destined rival, yet you don’t even know that much?"
Darren rolled his eyes.
Accepting the bottle from the owner, he poured them each a drink and downed his in one go.
Kuzan eyed his gloomy expression, curious.
"Why so down? You just got back from a mission—you fought monsters like Kaido and Whitebeard!"
His eyes sparkled.
"Marines all over Marineford are talking about your incredible exploits!"
Darren's eye twitched.
Yeah... the whole Marineford is buzzing about my glorious accomplishments...
Just then, servers brought out dish after dish:
Roast wild boar with fat marbled through the meat, fragrant strawberry pie, a heaping bowl of fresh salad, two bowls of hellfire ramen, and an assortment of sashimi...
Ignoring the babbling, hot-blooded Kuzan, Darren, already famished, launched at the food, devouring it like a wild beast.
"That eating speed is unreal..."
Kuzan muttered in awe, then suddenly his eyes lit up with fervor.
"Wait! Is this your secret to getting stronger!?"
Darren: ...
Before he could reply, Kuzan's fighting spirit ignited.
"I get it now! This is a duel!!"
With that declaration, he also began shoveling food into his mouth at lightning speed.
Two red-eyed men, like ravenous ghosts, tore through the meal with shocking ferocity.
Every few minutes, they shouted for more food.
Gradually, the rest of the diners noticed this ridiculous display, staring in stunned silence as the plates stacked like miniature mountains.
"Is this even humanly possible...?"
"The poor waiters can’t keep up..."
"How long has it been since they last ate?"
Half an hour later.
Belly bloated, the two finally slumped back in their chairs, breathing heavily, stomachs grotesquely round.
"So full..."
Kuzan burped, then grinned at Darren.
"You're truly my destined rival. You won again."
Veins popped on Darren’s forehead.
I was just hungry!!
He hadn’t intended any duel!
But arguing with this hot-blooded youth was pointless.
"How’s the headquarters treating you? Settling in alright?"
Kuzan scratched his head.
"Doesn’t feel much different. Every day it’s train, eat, rest, repeat. When I get home, I just sit around."
"But you! I heard you got yourself a girlfriend? Don’t let love dull your edge now..."
He sighed with mock solemnity.
...Not just one, apparently.
Darren muttered inwardly.
But Kuzan’s words sparked something in him.
Toki was sharp—she’d surely pick up on anything suspicious.
If he went home tonight and she sensed something, she might want a rematch.
Even iron would break.
Despite her gentle demeanor, Toki's competitiveness was no joke.
Maybe I should disappear for a few days...
More importantly, Darren now had enough strength to go after certain "treasures" only another worlder would know about.
There was one item he never stopped thinking about.
If he could get it—though he wouldn’t use it himself—it would greatly benefit his growing power base.
Decision made, Darren stood.
"Kuzan, do me a favor. Ask Zephyr-sensei for a few days off on my behalf. Also, send a message to my house... and to Gion."
Kuzan blinked.
"Leave?"
His eyes lit up with excitement.
"You're going out again? Who this time? You’ve already fought Whitebeard and Kaido—going after Big Mom? The Golden Lion?"
"Take me with you! I won’t hold you back, I promise!"
He flexed his biceps with pride.
"Together, we’d be the Navy’s strongest duo!"
Darren shook his head.
"You’re overthinking it. I’m just returning to the North Blue. It’s been a long time—I’m feeling nostalgic."
Kuzan wasn’t great at keeping secrets. Darren couldn’t risk bringing him along.
"Alright..."
The moment he heard "North Blue," Kuzan lost all interest.
He was born in the South Blue—he knew the Four Blues were weak.
He wanted stronger foes, the endless peril of the New World.
"Thanks."
Darren clapped him on the shoulder and stepped outside.
On the street, he paused, turned, and raised his hand. Sparks of electricity crackled between his fingers.
Three seconds later—
A long, jet-black blade whistled through the sky and hovered before him.
One of the 21 Great Grade Blades, the demon blade: Enma.
Seeing how docile the blade had become, Darren smiled in satisfaction.
A metallic hoverboard materialized beneath his feet. Riding the magnetic field, he shot into the sky, disappearing at high speed.
"So cool..."
Kuzan watched Darren's silhouette vanish, eyes shining with admiration.
"Excuse me, sir."
The restaurant owner suddenly appeared behind him, smiling politely.
"Your bill comes to 916,000 Berries."
Kuzan: ...
He shakily pulled out his wallet, tears brimming in his eyes.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 240: Chapter 142: People’s Dream
Summary:
“Some dreams die with time. Others are killed the moment you arrive.”
Chapter Text
Mock Town, Jaya Island.
“What’s that in the sky...?”
“Pfft, probably a bird, dumbass.”
“No, not a bird! It’s too fast!! That’s a person!!”
“A person? In the sky? Will, you been spending too much time at Layle’s. Sure, her ass is something else, but you’re straight-up hallucinating now.”
BOOM.
A streak of silver light slammed into the earth, sending shockwaves through the ground and kicking up a thick cloud of dust.
The pirates, still in the middle of banter, stood frozen. Dust clung to their faces, eyes blinking in disbelief.
Then came the yelling.
“Damn it! Who the hell are you!?”
“You looking to die or something!?”
“Do you know who I am?! I’m One-Arm Vick, damn it!! A pirate with a 25-million berry bounty!!”
“You’re screwed, pal!”
They shook off the dust and locked eyes on the figure emerging from the smoke, weapons drawn with a practiced hiss.
In the world of pirates, words mean nothing. Steel is the only argument.
“Oh? Pirates, huh...” The voice that answered was low and cold. “Just my luck. I’m not in a good mood today.”
A massive shadow rose through the haze, towering over them.
“A Marine...?”
“From Headquarters?!”
“Damn, he’s huge...”
They stared up at the three-meter-tall man. Dark hair. Sunken eyes. Gaunt face. One hand occasionally pressed to his lower back as if even standing was a chore.
But his presence was crushing. Bone-deep.
The one-armed pirate with dreadlocks forced a nervous laugh.
“Sir... I lost my temper just now. I meant no disres—”
A flicker of black.
A whisper of steel.
A fine red line traced itself across his neck before his head silently took flight, blood spraying like a geyser and splashing across his crewmates’ pale, trembling faces.
For a breathless moment, there was only silence.
Then—
“Hssss—!!”
A wave of gasps rippled through the surrounding crowd.
They hadn’t even seen him move.
One-Arm Vick. A pirate worth 25 million berries. Beheaded in a single stroke.
Only then did they notice the blade.
Floating beside the Marine was a sleek, jet-black katana, its surface etched with violet flame-like patterns.
Blood dripped along the edge—but instead of falling, it was being drawn inward. Absorbed. Until not a single drop remained.
“A... a demon blade...” someone muttered, voice cracking.
Thud.
Thud.
The remaining pirates dropped to their knees.
“Please, sir, we made a mistake!”
“We swear—we’ll never pirate again!”
“Let us go... we beg you!”
The Marine looked at them with dispassionate eyes and shook his head.
“No. You’re not sorry.”
“You’re just scared.”
The pirates blinked.
Then their eyes hardened.
Without ever fully loosening their grip on their weapons, they lunged.
SHHNK.
The blade moved again—too fast to follow, like a phantom sweeping through their ranks.
The pirates froze mid-motion.
And then came the blood.
Thin lines appeared all over their bodies. Red bloomed across their clothes and skin. One by one, they fell.
Dead.
The cursed sword, Enma, flew back to its master, trembling with a sound like a purr. As if waiting to be praised.
Darren lit a cigarette and took a drag, then glanced at the blade.
“Don’t even think about it. I’m barely holding myself together.”
No way.
He was already running on fumes.
If Enma started siphoning again, he might not even stay upright.
“So... this is Mock Town on Jaya, huh?”
He exhaled a smoke ring and pulled a Log Pose from his coat, checking the needle’s direction before looking around.
The crowd—locals and pirates alike—nodded furiously.
“Perfect.”
Darren smirked.
The Log Pose was borrowed from Marine Headquarters. They held the largest and most detailed map archives in the world. Technically, one needed authorization to use these devices.
But rules never really applied to Darren.
A flashy reputation, a Commodore’s rank, and a 500,000 berry “tip” had the intelligence officer personally delivering it with bowed head and trembling hands, gushing about Darren’s greatness like a disciple.
“Well, first things first...” Darren muttered. “I’m starving.”
The earlier scuffle didn’t bother him.
Jaya was one of those lawless gray zones on the Grand Line—no government, no Marines, no rules. A pirate haven.
Back in the North Blue, these kinds of islands used to be common.
Used to be.
Until Darren’s purges swept through them like wildfire.
Nowadays, even pirates paid taxes if they didn’t want trouble.
Not that you could ever wipe them all out. Pirates would always exist.
Still, today’s skirmish served another purpose: a chance to test his new move—Magnetic Blade Dominion.
And let’s be honest: a Marine didn’t need an excuse to kill pirates.
As for why he’d come to Jaya?
Simple.
The Sky Island. The City of Gold. And a Devil Fruit said to be invincible.
The Rumble-Rumble Fruit. A Logia.
But first... food.
Using the Magnet-Magnet Fruit to fly nonstop had burned through his stamina.
“Wonder if they’ve got good cherry pie here...?”
He thought about that classic moment from the original story and looked up at the endless blue sky, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
People's Dreams...Have No End
No doubt about it.
But—
“I can still cut your dream short.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 241: Chapter 143: Return to the North Blue
Summary:
“True power is not in action, but in control—the silence that holds the storm.”
Chapter Text
“One beer. One cherry pie.”
Darren stepped into the tavern, shoulders relaxed beneath his Marine coat. He picked a seat without looking twice and called out to the barkeep as if this were any nameless inn in any nameless town.
The place was dim. Smoke hung low in the air. The smell of blood still clung to several of the men—some pirates, some bounty hunters—who were noisily tearing into their meat. But the moment Darren walked in, the noise dropped like a rock in water.
A few pale faces slipped out in silence, heads lowered.
The presence of a Marine commodore had unsettled the whole tavern.
This was the first half of the Grand Line—"Paradise" to some, but still a backwater to those who knew real power. Anyone who could sail here from the Four Blues wasn't stupid. And no one here was dumb enough to pick a fight with a Headquarters commodore.
Maybe in the New World, a commodore didn’t count for much.
But here? He was a storm walking in uniform.
“Wait... that’s him, right?”
“No doubt. That height, that face—"
“He’s the one who took down Byrnndi World!”
“The King of the North Blue—Rogers Darren!”
“Shit… What’s a man like him doing in Mock Town?”
“He’s not gonna wipe us all out… is he?”
Whispers festered like rot, fear threading through every murmur. All eyes were drawn to Darren, watching, waiting.
But he ignored them all.
He lifted the mug, took a deep draught of frothy beer, and bit into the steaming cherry pie set before him.
Not the worst thing he'd eaten. Not the best, either.
But it would do.
He chewed slowly, letting the faint sweetness sit on his tongue. In his mind, the real feast was just beginning.
The Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
Nature-class. Logia-type. Called “invincible” for good reason. Every record in Marine history spoke of its wielders as beings of unstoppable force—living storms with the power of gods.
And it wasn’t just myth.
The ability to cross space with lightning-speed movement.
The destructive force of a natural disaster.
Elemental intangibility, the hallmark of every Logia.
And then—there was the Heart Network.
A layer beyond mere Observation Haki. When enhanced by the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, it expanded one's sensory field to encompass entire islands, syncing mind and body with the flow of every living thing.
It was one of the most coveted powers among those who had crossed from other worlds.
In the original history, the Rumble-Rumble Fruit had ended up with Enel—the self-proclaimed “God” who ruled Skypiea.
But here and now? Enel was probably still just a child. The chances of him having eaten the fruit yet were close to none.
Which meant the fruit was likely still on Skypiea. Hidden. Waiting.
Darren was already a Devil Fruit user. The Magnet-Magnet Fruit was part of him now. He couldn’t have another.
Regret? Not really.
Without the Magnet-Magnet Fruit, he probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to sit in this tavern today.
And with everything it had already given him—its versatility, its destructive potential—he didn’t feel shortchanged. If anything, with further development, it might even surpass the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
Still…
That kind of power couldn’t be left lying around.
It had to be secured.
And entrusted—to someone with potential. Someone loyal. Someone he could control.
He already had a candidate in mind.
But the Rumble-Rumble Fruit wasn’t the only treasure Skypiea held.
There was something else. Something more tangible. More immediate.
The City of Gold.
Shandora.
An entire city built of gold. Not metaphor. Not legend. Fact.
How much was it worth?
Even a fraction of what the Straw Hat Pirates had taken from it fetched two hundred million berries. And that was under a deflated currency, during the era of mass inflation that followed the rise of the great pirate fleets.
Darren did the math in his head.
If they could clean out the entire city—strip Shandora down to its bedrock—he could fund the North Blue Fleet for years. Decades, maybe.
He could expand it tenfold.
Hundreds of upgraded heavy warships. High-tech artillery. Advanced weapons systems. A standing fleet of thirty thousand elite marines, drilled and ready for total warfare.
The vision alone sent a rush through his blood.
Right now, the North Blue Fleet was efficient—but small.
He’d poured everything into it: gold, arms, science, manpower. Even with all the money he raked in, he was barely keeping ahead of costs. Salaries. Weapon maintenance. Ship repairs. R&D.
But if he got his hands on Shandora’s hoard...
He wouldn’t have to think about money for five years.
He’d be free to think bigger.
Much bigger.
Things that didn't even exist in this world yet—things from the other world. Plans. Technologies. Military doctrines.
He could bring them all to life.
His eyes narrowed.
Let Marine Headquarters worry about their budget shortfalls.
Let Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku lose sleep over it.
The North Blue paid for itself.
---
Three days later.
North Blue – 321st Branch
The base commander’s office was buried in reports.
“Are the gifts ready?”
Captain Momonga, Supreme Commander of the North Blue, didn’t look up as he spoke. His voice was calm, but iron-threaded.
A young Marine stood at attention.
“Yes, sir. All prepared. Two hundred million berries in gold and silver, along with premium liquors, rare cigars, and other high-end gifts. Total value exceeds three hundred million. Transport has been secured—one warship escorting it directly to Rubeck Island.”
He hesitated, then added carefully:
“Sir… if I may. The Donquixote Family is just an underground syndicate in the North Blue. Do we really need to go this far for them?”
Momonga’s pen stilled. He glanced up—not with anger, but with a chill that silenced the room.
“Tell me. How has the North Blue Fleet treated you?”
The young officer blinked, then replied:
“Very well, sir. Exceptionally well.”
“Our salary is more than three times the Headquarters standard. With bonuses, my family lives better than most nobles.”
“Our food, our weapons, our instructors—everything is the best.”
Momonga nodded.
“And do you know why that is?”
The young man straightened.
“To carry out orders. Without hesitation.”
He paused mid-sentence. Realized what he’d just said. Face flushed.
“Apologies, sir. I overstepped.”
Momonga let out a soft breath that was almost a chuckle.
“This sea doesn’t bend to logic. I once followed Commodore Darren’s orders without a second thought. And I don’t regret it.”
“A soldier’s worth isn’t in his doubts. It’s in his execution.”
“Understood, sir. Thank you for the guidance.”
The young Marine saluted crisply.
“One more thing, sir,” he added, picking up a folder. “Over the next three days, there are three charity banquets, two poker games, and one auction event on your schedule. Should I confirm your attendance?”
Momonga waved a hand without looking.
“Decline them all.”
This time, the Marine nodded without a word and quietly stepped out.
The door closed.
Momonga leaned back, exhausted. The chair creaked under him.
He lit a cigar, took a long draw, and pressed his fingers to his temples.
“This position... Supreme Commander of the North Blue... is far more of a headache than I expected.”
His voice was dry, but not without humor.
Then came a voice—cool, amused, teasing.
“Is that so? Funny—Tokikake was begging me on his knees to send him here as your adjutant.”
Momonga’s hand instinctively dropped to the hilt at his waist. But when he turned—his eyes widened in surprise.
“Darren?”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 242: Chapter 144: Momonga's Dilemma
Summary:
“When loyalty demands silence, and reason warns of danger—what remains is duty.”
Chapter Text
"You’re back?"
Momonga’s guarded expression vanished the moment he saw the Marine commodore sitting on the couch beside him, one leg casually crossed over the other. Replacing it was a flicker of surprise, followed by genuine delight.
His hand slipped away from the hilt of his sword.
"Didn’t you just return to Headquarters not long ago?"
Darren smiled.
"What, not happy to see me touring the North Blue again?"
He reached out and opened the cigar box on the coffee table without hesitation, plucked out a stick, clipped the end with practiced ease, bit down, and lit it. He took a long drag, eyes narrowing with satisfaction.
"Ah... Nothing hits like a North Blue cigar."
Momonga grumbled.
"I thought you were still recovering at HQ."
His gaze swept over Darren’s face, a faint crease forming between his brows.
"You don’t look too good... Thinner than before. You sure your injuries are fully healed?"
Darren’s lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he changed the subject.
"How’s the situation here in the North Blue?"
At that, Momonga’s expression shifted back to a serious one. His voice dropped, solid and composed.
"Same as when you left. Not much has changed."
"Even after your departure, your name alone continues to deter those restless nobles and ambitious officials."
"Especially now—with news spreading about you taking first at the training camp and destroying the Beasts Pirates’ main base—I've been flooded with invites..."
He sighed.
"They’re like sharks who’ve smelled blood. Throwing money, gifts, endless parties, banquets, card games. All of them trying to dig up intel on you."
"Some even seem ready to offer up their wives and daughters to get in your good graces."
Darren raised an eyebrow, amused, watching Momonga’s long-suffering expression.
"Sounds like you’re living quite the life."
"—The hell I am!"
Momonga snapped.
"It’s torture!"
He slammed his fist on the desk.
"All I ever wanted was to be a proper Marine! Sharpen my skills, fight pirates, uphold justice!"
"But they bribe my resolve with gold, try to wear down my body with women, test my principles with liquor and fine tobacco!"
"Damn bastards!"
Darren let out a low chuckle.
"Don’t like it?"
Momonga turned bright red. Opened his mouth. Closed it.
"It’s... not all bad. I guess."
Darren laughed aloud.
"Work-life balance matters, you know. You’re still new to the role. It’s normal to feel conflicted."
He exhaled a smooth ring of smoke.
"Those parties and gifts? Attend if you want. Ignore them if you don’t. You owe them nothing."
"In the end, it’s strength that speaks on these seas."
Momonga nodded. Darren was right.
That had always been their plan. The higher Darren climbed and the louder he made waves in the Grand Line, the more stable the North Blue became in his wake.
"As for the underworld, the Donquixote Family has unified the region’s criminal syndicates under their banner. They’ve grown fast—already expanding into the Grand Line and even the New World."
Momonga leaned back.
Per their agreement, a cut of the Donquixote Family’s profits flowed directly to the North Blue Fleet under the title of “franchise licensing fees.”
Through high-end accounting and clever paperwork, the funds appeared legitimate even under Marine HQ scrutiny.
"Your judgment was razor-sharp," Momonga admitted. "Doflamingo’s shown a level of poise and cunning well beyond his years. Strength, leadership, business sense—he’s got it all."
He looked at Darren with admiration.
Before Doflamingo, several powerful mafia families had tried to gain control of the North Blue’s underworld. They had the skills and means. Darren refused them all.
Until Doflamingo came along.
To be honest, Momonga had thought Darren’s decision was risky. A twelve- or thirteen-year-old kid running the underworld?
It sounded absurd. Other kids that age were still playing in the dirt.
But out of trust for Darren, Momonga kept his doubts to himself—and followed orders without question.
Now, seeing it all unfold...
Darren had been right.
"Yeah," Darren nodded. "That kid turned out well. I didn’t train him for nothing."
"I owe my recent escape to one of the officers he dispatched."
He gave Momonga a sideways glance.
"But... you’re starting to feel the pressure, aren’t you?"
Momonga’s lips pressed into a thin line.
After a long pause, he gave a small, reluctant nod.
"He’s growing too fast."
Yes. Too fast.
Faster than was natural.
On his last visit to Rubeck Island, Momonga remembered sitting across from the golden-haired boy lounging on a sofa, eyes sharp, posture relaxed.
He had felt the gaze of a beast beneath the surface. Caged—but dangerous.
He wasn’t afraid of the Donquixote Family’s influence. No criminal empire could outgun the North Blue Fleet.
But Doflamingo himself? That boy was a different matter.
Every time they met, he seemed more powerful, more composed.
It unsettled him.
That’s why, last time, he had surrounded the island with warships—ready to execute a miniature Buster Call if anything went wrong.
If Darren were to fall in the New World... Momonga wasn’t confident he could hold Doflamingo back alone.
Darren understood. He gave a wry smile.
"That’s why I came back."
---
To be continued...
Chapter 243: Chapter 145: Tastes Like Shit
Summary:
“Men are brave.” – Batman
Chapter Text
Darren had seen it coming long before Momonga ever voiced a word.
He understood Doflamingo’s talent better than anyone.
Awakening Conqueror’s Haki at just eight years old.
Taking what seemed like a useless String-String Fruit and molding it into a fearsome arsenal—attack, control, regeneration, duplication, and wide-range annihilation all bound into one terrible power.
That kind of innate potential was unmatched—even across the whole pirate world.
And when paired with his ruthless, sadistic nature, there were few on these seas who could truly compare.
Momonga had talent—of that Darren had no doubt. In the original timeline, he rose to become a Vice Admiral, a cornerstone of Marine justice, trusted with the hardest missions. But compared to a man born to rule the shadows, like Doflamingo, he still fell short.
And in these early stages, without access to Haki, Devil Fruit users simply held the upper hand.
Maybe—for now—Momonga could suppress Doflamingo using his swordsmanship and battlefield experience.
But that edge would shrink. Time would turn it into pressure. And eventually... he would be outpaced.
There was no denying that.
The solution? Obvious on paper.
Send Momonga to the Elite Officer Training Camp. Let him catch the next wave. Teach him the Rokushiki. Help him awaken Haki.
But that had its problems.
First—there was a long wait before the next training cycle began. Momonga needed power now.
Second—even if he mastered the Rokushiki quickly, Haki was another matter. Not everyone could awaken it through effort alone.
Which left only one path.
Darren smiled.
“I brought you a gift from the Grand Line.”
Momonga blinked, puzzled. His guard was up again, just slightly.
“A gift?”
Darren waved toward the window. With a soft hum, a metallic container—smooth, silver, humming faintly—floated through the open frame and came to a gentle stop midair.
“A Devil Fruit.”
Blue sparks danced between Darren’s fingers. The metal box rippled, responding to the magnetic pulse. Its two halves slid apart, revealing what lay inside.
The moment Momonga laid eyes on it, his pupils tightened.
He stared—unblinking, breath caught—at the strange, golden fruit within. It radiated a terrible presence: wild, chaotic, and unknowable.
His lips thinned into a hard line. For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then his eyes flew wide.
“This is—!”
“The Rumble-Rumble Fruit,” Darren confirmed, grin widening. “The strongest of all Logia.”
Momonga could hardly believe what he was seeing.
A fruit of legend. Not only real—but here, in front of him.
His hands trembled. He couldn’t look away.
It looked like a golden pineapple, lightning-like markings coursing across its surface. Its presence was undeniable—violent, living, almost divine.
The Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
The so-called mightiest Logia.
A power on par with natural disaster.
If he ate it, he would gain thunder itself.
This wasn’t like any ordinary Logia.
This was lightning—the purest form of wrath from the heavens.
And as North Blue’s Supreme Commander, Momonga had seen the Devil Fruit catalog through Darren’s connections. They had hunted for years—scouring the seas for even whispers of such power.
And now... it sat before him.
But just as that surge of awe threatened to sweep him away—
“No.”
He drew in a sharp breath and tore his gaze away.
“No, Darren. That fruit—should be yours.”
His voice was steady. His bloodshot eyes held firm.
Darren massaged his temples, exhaling smoke with an air of exasperation.
“You forgot I already ate the Magnet-Magnet Fruit?”
“One person. One Devil Fruit. Try to eat two, and your body explodes. Iron law.”
“I’m not interested in suicide.”
Blackbeard had managed it, sure. But Darren wasn’t betting his life on a maybe.
Especially not over this.
Momonga froze. Right. He had forgotten.
Still, he shook his head.
“Then you should give it to someone better suited.”
His voice grew quieter.
“I don’t think I’m worthy.”
Devil Fruits had limits—determined by the wielder. Give a god-tier Fruit to a weakling, and you’d get mediocre results.
Darren’s brows furrowed, both amused and annoyed.
“Didn’t think I’d live to see someone refuse a gift like this…”
He stared directly at him.
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Momonga.”
“In my eyes—you’re the best candidate.”
Momonga hesitated, lips pressed tight.
“No. It’s too valuable—”
Darren exhaled another breath of smoke. Then, without warning, he spoke.
“Sea Circle Calendar, Year 1487. I was fourteen. Just joined the 321st Branch as a Seaman Recruit.”
“My body was pathetic. Even the basic physical drills nearly killed me. And by recruit tradition, I had toilet duty on top of training.”
“One day I collapsed. Brush still in hand. Slumped beside the latrine.”
“You found me. Carried me to the infirmary.”
“When I woke up, the toilets were spotless. And I didn’t get court-martialed.”
Momonga looked like he wanted to wave it off—but Darren wasn’t finished.
“Sea Circle 1488. My first combat mission. Target: the Blood Scythe Pirates. I was so scared I couldn’t hold my sword.”
“A pirate nearly cleaved me in half.”
“You yanked me back. Took a bullet in my place.”
Momonga opened his mouth—but Darren pressed on.
“Sea Circle 1489. We were both Lieutenants. Took a twenty-man squad to clear out a mafia base.”
“Ambush. Everyone but us died. I took two bullets, three stab wounds, passed out.”
“When I came to—I was in the hospital.”
“The guy on the next bed was you.”
“You looked worse.”
“Doctor said you carried me out. Alone. Through gunfire. Five bullets. Six cuts.”
He glanced down at Momonga’s leg.
“You still have a fragment in your left knee. Haven’t been able to put full weight on it since.”
Darren drew from his cigar. His smile was light.
But behind his eyes, something heavy lingered.
“You want me to keep going?”
“No one else remembers. Not even the official record. But I do.”
“Five years. From the latrines to now.”
“Thirteen times.”
“You saved me thirteen times.”
He met Momonga’s gaze.
“Now tell me. If I were to die today—me, the ‘King of the North Blue,’ the Marine prodigy, the man who killed Byrnndi World, crushed the Beasts Pirates—what would that life be worth?”
Momonga was silent.
“Can’t measure it,” he said finally.
“Exactly.”
Darren grinned.
“And yet—you saved it. Over and over.”
Momonga muttered, “You’ve saved me more times…”
Darren rolled his eyes.
“Now’s not the time to count favors.”
“I’m saying—we’ve bled together for years.”
“We’re not just comrades. We’re brothers.”
“I don’t trust people easily.”
“But you? You’re different.”
Momonga looked torn.
“But—”
“I swear to—”
Darren snapped.
Before Momonga could blink, his metal bracers detached, split apart, and snapped shut around his arms and legs—clamping him to the ground.
“Darren, wait—!”
Too late.
Darren shoved the Rumble-Rumble Fruit into his mouth.
Juice exploded.
Momonga froze. Eyes wide. Time stopped.
Then—
“You bastard!!”
His face twisted, red with rage and nausea.
“This tastes like shit!!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 244: Chapter 146: Congratulations, You’ve Become the Electric Flying Squirrel
Summary:
"Power changes form, but its weight never lessens."
Chapter Text
"How would you even know what shit tastes like? Don’t tell me—you’ve eaten it before?"
Watching Momonga lying there, dry-heaving with a red face, Darren couldn't help but burst into smug laughter.
The taste of a Devil Fruit was truly indescribable—something like sewer rot mixed with old sock stench, bitter and sour like some nightmare you never want to relive. One bite, and you'd wish you hadn’t been born.
"You bastard..."
Hearing Darren teasing him so casually while smoking on the couch, Momonga trembled with rage, fighting the bile rising in his throat as he struggled violently.
But his arms and legs were still pinned to the ground by magnetic force, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free.
Suddenly—
His mind went blank.
A strange surge of energy erupted within him.
A blinding burst of lightning flared in the office, so dazzling it was as if a thousand birds were shrieking in unison.
In stunned disbelief, Momonga looked down as his body began to melt—no, transform—into a flow of pure blue plasma.
His limbs, now made of lightning, slipped effortlessly through the metallic restraints like liquid, breaking free without resistance.
“This is...”
The flickering energy gathered again, reshaping into his original form.
He stood there, awestruck, staring at his crackling hands, feeling a flood of uncontainable power rushing through his veins.
Then—clink.
A rusted, blackened bullet fragment fell from his left knee, clattering crisply onto the floor.
Momonga’s eyes widened slightly. The moment he saw it, something stirred within him.
The persistent pain that had plagued his knee for years... vanished.
"This is..."
“Elementalization,” Darren said as he lit another cigar, grinning. “Congratulations. You’ve become lightning itself.”
Momonga took a deep breath, carefully sensing the transformation.
His body felt... light. Feather-light. As if he weighed nothing at all.
Yet deep inside, he could tell—he was now a vessel of cataclysmic power.
Of course, he knew this was just the rush from the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. The surge of newfound power could easily lead to illusions.
He steadied himself, mentally reigning in the volatile new ability.
As he focused, the lightning dancing around his body began to fade, and his form stabilized.
"Unprecedented... strength."
He exhaled deeply, looked up at Darren, and spoke quietly but firmly.
Darren chuckled.
“Guess that crap wasn’t such a bad meal after all, huh?”
Momonga: “…”
Darren puffed his cigar thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers.
“Let’s go. To the training grounds. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
A mischievous thought crossed his mind.
Momonga, now fused with lightning... Electric Flying Squirrel, perhaps?
Momonga blinked, then laughed, his eyes shining with eagerness.
"Let’s go!"
He wanted to see just how powerful the Rumble-Rumble Fruit truly was.
And how far he could push it.
---
"Hey, who’s that walking next to Captain Momonga?"
"Is that—?!"
"Commodore Darren!"
"Darren’s back!!"
"Commodore Darren! How’s life in HQ?"
"Is it true you fought Kaido?!"
"..."
As they made their way to the training grounds, Darren’s appearance caused an instant stir.
Sailors erupted with excitement as they saw the cigar-smoking commodore, hands in his pockets, walking like he owned the place.
To every Marine in the North Blue, the name Rogers Darren wasn’t just legendary—it was irreplaceable.
Under his command, the North Blue Marines had risen to dominance. Even the lowest-ranked sailor lived better than their counterparts elsewhere.
Without exaggeration, the current strength and scale of the North Blue Fleet could be attributed to one man.
That’s why each and every Marine here revered and adored him from the bottom of their hearts.
Even though he’d stepped down as Supreme Commander and gone to train in Marine Headquarters, any news about Darren that reached the North Blue was devoured like gospel.
Darren’s power was the North Blue’s power.
His glory, their glory.
“Long time no see, everyone.”
With a broad grin, Darren waved to the crowd of eager Marines.
He chatted briefly, then politely asked them to return to their duties.
Without hesitation, they saluted and dispersed.
Soon, the training ground was empty.
Cold sea wind howled across the barren field, lifting golden dust into the air.
Darren and Momonga stood ten meters apart, facing off.
"Come," Darren said calmly. "Hit me with whatever you’ve got."
Momonga had only just eaten the fruit. He was a blank slate—he hadn’t yet explored or developed its power.
This was just a test to see how well he could grasp its potential.
Momonga hesitated.
“You sure? The Rumble-Rumble Fruit... its power isn’t exactly—well, I mean, never mind. I forgot you’re basically a monster.”
He rubbed his forehead in exasperation and prepared himself.
He raised his hand, focusing on Darren from afar.
"Discharge: 100,000 Volts!!"
Lightning surged from his arm, condensing into a roaring bolt that cracked through the air and slammed toward Darren!
The thunderclap tore through the sky, scorching the ground as it went.
Momonga held back. Despite Darren’s monstrous resilience, he wasn’t taking any chances.
But Darren didn’t dodge.
The bolt slammed into him, sizzling loudly.
Electric arcs crawled over his body like angry needles, charring his uniform black, tearing it to tatters.
"Hmm... not bad," Darren muttered, his voice calm.
"But holding back? That’s just a waste."
He smiled darkly, then raised his arm.
With a sweep of his hand, the lightning vanished into thin air.
Swish!
Darren tore off the smoldering remnants of his shirt—and launched forward like a cannonball.
The earth beneath him exploded, forming a massive crater.
The shockwave rocked the entire field.
"Guess it’s time I gave you a little pressure."
Darren grinned.
Momonga’s eyes widened.
He couldn’t track Darren’s movements.
A fist, wreathed in pitch-black Armament Haki, filled his vision.
Momonga: “¥@%@#%??”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 245: Chapter 147: Can You Even Handle It?
Summary:
"Pain refines. Pressure defines."
Chapter Text
Damn—he’s fast!
Just how long had Darren been at Marine Headquarters?
And yet, in that short time, his strength had exploded to a level completely beyond Momonga’s grasp!
What the hell had he been doing there?
Was he doping!?
Momonga’s heart pounded wildly as the corner of his eye twitched uncontrollably.
To him, Darren’s movements were nothing short of lightning. His silhouette blurred, vanished, and then reappeared right in front of him in the blink of an eye.
With an inhuman force behind his pitch-black fist, it looked like even the air itself was being torn apart.
“You’re trying to kill—!”
Bang!
The punch slammed straight into Momonga’s face.
If time could slow, one would see his facial muscles ripple like waves across water under the force of the blow.
The next moment—
His body shot backward like a fired cannonball, crashing through several humanoid stone targets before embedding itself deep into the wall of a three-meter-high cannon platform.
A massive boom resounded, the structure crumbling instantly into rubble, smoke billowing high into the air.
“Only real pressure can force you to adapt—to master the power of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit,” Darren said with a relaxed puff of smoke, a pleased grin playing on his lips.
Damn, it felt good to crush someone again.
This past half-month had been one brutal uphill climb. One battle after another against opponents stronger than himself.
First, a joint assault on Douglas Bullet alongside Sakazuki—where Darren had been clearly weaker, still fumbling through Armament Haki and relying on Sakazuki to take point.
Then getting captured by Kaido, tortured by Queen.
Then the jailbreak, fighting both Queen and Kaido again, with no clear victory to show for it.
And right after, he’d gone toe-to-toe with Oden and even Whitebeard.
Sure, he’d bragged his way through it—but deep down, Darren knew he was still far from being on par with the so-called “Strongest Man in the World.”
In short, things had been… frustrating.
Whitebeard and Kaido were one thing.
But getting bullied by Gion and even Toki?
Now, finally—finally—he had a punching bag.
And he wasn’t going to waste it.
"Y-You bastard... You really didn't hold back, huh..."
A hoarse, resentful voice echoed from the ruined platform.
Zzzt!
Streams of lightning burst forth, shattering the rubble as they coalesced back into humanoid form.
Momonga wiped the blood from his mouth. His face had swollen visibly, and he glared at Darren with indignation.
"You call that pressure?! You were trying to kill me!"
“Oh?” Darren scratched his head with exaggerated innocence. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
He grinned.
“Besides… looks like you’re getting better at turning into lightning.”
“You think!?” Momonga snapped. “If I hadn’t managed to elementalize just now, I’d be lying here with a damn concussion—!”
He froze.
Looking down at his hands, he experimentally clenched his fists.
Crackles of electricity surged across his palms—then vanished—then sparked again. Back and forth. Effortlessly.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
“It’s true… the transformation between solid and elemental states—it's getting smoother. Not nearly as clumsy as before.”
“Now you see?” Darren nodded seriously. “This is the most efficient training method we learned at the Elite Officer Training Camp.”
Momonga narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“You sure you just didn’t want to beat me up?”
Darren nodded with a perfectly straight face. “That, too.”
“…You son of a—!”
Momonga’s eyes burned red, electricity erupting from his body in violent surges, blue lightning roaring like flames.
He raised his hand, and a thunderbolt half a meter thick blasted toward Darren like a dragon’s roar.
Far stronger than his earlier attack—faster, too.
Good. More power. And judging by the biological magnetic field I’m sensing—his Haki signature is growing stronger, too...
Darren’s eyes sharpened. His smile widened.
He didn’t know all the ins and outs of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
But one thing was clear:
Nothing pushes growth better than real battle and overwhelming external pressure.
More importantly…
He could feel it—his physical stats, long stagnant, were shifting again.
After Queen’s “special training,” Darren’s body had been honed to near perfection. He was inching closer and closer to Kaido’s famed indestructible body.
But ever since then—apart from his fight with Oden—his growth had hit a wall.
Until now.
The lightning was shaking him loose from that plateau.
There was no way in hell he’d miss this opportunity.
“Come on, Pikachu. Charge me up!”
Eyes gleaming with manic excitement, Darren launched himself straight into the oncoming lightning—
BOOM!!!
A thunderous explosion tore through the training ground, flames and smoke rising in a red-tinged mushroom cloud.
…
Half an hour later.
Darren, his body smudged black with soot, gleamed with joy as he nudged a crumpled Momonga with his foot.
His voice burned with feverish anticipation.
“Hey. C’mon. That was only five million volts…”
“Can’t you go any higher…?”
Momonga wheezed for air, lying limp on the scorched earth.
He looked dead. Pale as a corpse. Sunken eyes. Black-and-blue bruises painting his face like abstract art.
Around them, the training ground had become a charred wasteland. Smoke curled from every crater and crack.
When Darren spoke again, Momonga flinched.
“N-No more… I’m done…” he gasped.
Even lifting a finger felt impossible.
Tears of despair welled in his eyes.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 246: Chapter 148: I Have No Interest in Money
Summary:
“If pain can forge strength, then let thunder be my hammer.”
Chapter Text
"This all you've got already...?"
Darren shot a disdainful glance at Momonga, his expression full of disappointment.
Momonga: #@%#!?@¥……
I literally just ate the Rumble-Rumble Fruit! Holding out for half an hour under this kind of explosive output is already pretty damn good, alright?!
With a roll of his eyes, he dropped flat onto the training ground, lying on his back and half-closing his eyes in comfort, trying to catch his breath and regulate it.
This lunatic Darren actually took my lightning blasts head-on, using only his body, and the more he got struck, the more fired up he became—grinning like a total maniac as he went!
What the hell is wrong with this guy?!
Feels like ever since he came back from the Grand Line, he’s just gotten more and more insane...
Wait a minute!
Could this be that “get beat, get stronger” training method?!
Was Darren actually telling the truth?
While Momonga's imagination was running wild, Darren let out a sigh tinged with regret and lay down as well to rest on the field.
Using Momonga's Rumble-Rumble Fruit attacks to temper his own body—this hadn’t been part of Darren’s original plan.
But he had to admit, the results were phenomenal.
In just that half hour, under repeated lightning strikes with nearly five million volts, his body stat had climbed ever so slightly.
That little increase might not seem like much, but Darren hadn’t forgotten—his body stats had already reached levels that ordinary people couldn’t even begin to fathom.
Once stats passed 70, every tiny increment became incredibly slow to achieve.
And to gain even a slight improvement in just half an hour? Far more effective than blindly experimenting with some anti-strike endurance training.
Sure, by the end of that half hour, his body was starting to adapt to Momonga’s lightning.
But come on—this was only five million volts!
As Momonga continued to develop his Devil Fruit powers, the voltage of his lightning would only increase.
Ten million... thirty million... fifty million... one hundred million volts...
Maybe even reaching, or surpassing, the three hundred million volts that Enel wielded!
Just thinking about it made Darren’s gaze shift toward Momonga like he was staring at a massive treasure trove.
He had a gut feeling—if he kept forging his body through lightning, eventually he could push his physique closer and closer to Kaido’s “indestructible body.”
And then... maybe one day, he too could take a lightning strike from Big Mom without flinching and shout, “Because I have willpower!”
At that thought, Darren couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.
His mind gradually sank into analyzing his stats.
Physique: 79.812
Strength: 70.513
Speed: 70.899
Armament Haki: 37.035
Conqueror’s Haki: 52.301
Hmm. With the rise in physique over this period, it had a strong spillover effect on his Armament Haki. Its intensity had increased noticeably.
As for the other stats... not much noticeable improvement.
Still, all in all, he had tapped into a whole new path forward.
And Darren was confident—as the intensity of his thunder-tempering increased, the strengthening of his body would eventually feed back into strength and speed as well.
After all, tougher skin, muscle, and bone were key to overall physical development.
“Momonga... Have you thought of your admiral title yet?”
Darren suddenly turned his head and looked at the bruised and battered Marine captain beside him, smiling as he spoke.
“Admiral?”
Momonga blinked, then gave a dry chuckle.
“You really do have a lot of confidence in me... That’s a Marine Admiral we’re talking about—one of the World Government’s top combat forces...”
“For a monster like you, becoming an admiral is just a matter of time. But for people like us…”
His expression calmed as he looked at the blue sky and drifting white clouds. His eyes held a vague melancholy and yearning, and he murmured softly:
“That’s a dream we might never reach in our entire lives.”
“That’s not necessarily true.”
Darren smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with a profound light.
“Don’t underestimate your potential.”
In the original storyline, Momonga was one of the few elite Vice Admirals in Marine Headquarters, a pillar of justice in the world. In terms of talent and potential, he was by no means weak.
He had the full trust of Marine high command, with formidable strength, top-tier in both martial arts and swordsmanship among the Vice Admirals. He wielded both types of Haki proficiently, and had even been entrusted with the mission to summon the Pirate Empress by force.
Given that foundation—and with a Rumble-Rumble Fruit on top of it... If he could develop it to the level of Enel, reaching admiral-level strength wouldn’t be too far-fetched.
Hell, even someone like Green Bull (Ryokugyu) made it to admiral.
Not to mention, Darren could give him a push.
“We’ll talk about it later…”
Hearing Darren’s meaningful words, Momonga fell into brief silence, then slowly clenched his fists and replied.
As he had said—becoming a Marine Admiral was every Marine’s dream.
If there was even a sliver of hope, he would fight for it. Even if it cost him his life, he’d never regret it.
“By the way, how long are you planning to stay this time?”
Darren lit a cigarette, resting the back of his head on his hands as he puffed leisurely.
“I wasn’t planning to stay long... but things changed.”
“Why?” Momonga asked, puzzled.
Darren gave him a wink and said with a grin:
“Staying to help you develop the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.”
Mouse: …
You just want me to be your personal training dummy so you can use lightning to temper your body, don’t you?!
His eyelid twitched.
Now he got it.
Helping him develop the Rumble-Rumble Fruit? Yeah, right—that was just a front!
Maybe it was part of it, but what that bastard Darren really wanted... was to use him for his own training!
Still, Momonga had gone numb to it by now.
He was also well aware of Darren’s bizarre training methods.
No average person could handle it.
“Oh right, almost forgot this.”
Darren muttered, fishing out a Log Pose from his pocket and handing it to Mouse.
“What’s this...?” Momonga frowned slightly.
Darren said casually:
“It’s a Log Pose pointing to some unknown island. There’s a stash of wealth I left there. I plan to use it all for developing and expanding the North Blue Fleet.”
“A stash of wealth? Wouldn’t it be better to keep it for yourself? You must have expenses at Headquarters, right?”
Momonga shook his head and declined.
“As far as the North Blue Fleet goes, our current military budget is enough for now… The taxes we’re collecting from Doflamingo’s region are growing faster every month.”
“…And besides, expanding the North Blue Fleet—you're talking about a fortune far beyond just a few hundred million berries.”
Momonga didn’t believe Darren could get his hands on any significant amount of money while stationed at Marineford.
There were so many Marine higher-ups around—there’s no way he could blatantly apply North Blue’s tactics at Headquarters.
“I know the cost of expanding the North Blue Fleet is astronomical—that’s why I found you this fortune.”
Darren shot back irritably.
Momonga gave him a skeptical look.
“How much money... are we talking about on that island?”
Darren shrugged.
“No idea. You know I don’t care about money. But rough estimate? Probably several hundreds of billions or even a trillion of berries, give or take…”
“—W-What?!”
Momonga’s eyes flew open wide in shock, almost dropping and shattering the Log Pose in his hand.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 247: Chapter 149: You’re Not Planning to Rob the Heavenly Tribute, Are You?
Summary:
“True power needs more than strength—it needs firepower, and the courage to wield it.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“H-Hundreds of billions?!”
Momonga jolted upright, staring at Darren in utter shock. His jaw nearly hit the ground as he stammered:
“Darren... you’re not joking, right?”
Clutching the Log Pose in his hands like a priceless treasure, he held it with extreme care.
Darren replied irritably,
“Do I look like the kind of guy who’d joke about this? It’s just a few hundred billion berries in gold, what’s with the drama?”
Despite his tone, a faint smile crept onto the corner of his lips.
“Where the hell did you get that much gold?”
Momonga was still reeling from disbelief. Then suddenly, as if something clicked, his expression shifted sharply.
“Darren... Don’t tell me... you robbed the Heavenly Tribute?”
His voice dropped low, face shadowed with uncertainty.
“No, no, relax. This stash came from a perfectly legal source.”
Darren shook his head.
“Although… you’ve reminded me—if money runs short in the future, the Heavenly Tribute might not be such a bad idea…”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.
Momonga: …
Dark lines seemed to rise from his forehead.
Wait, you’re seriously considering it now?!
“Yeah… that’s actually a great idea. You really are my trusted adjutant.”
Darren clapped him on the shoulder with a satisfied grin.
Momonga: …
That wasn’t me. I didn’t say that. Don’t pin this on me.
Seeing the usually stoic Momonga completely dumbfounded, Darren couldn’t help but chuckle and explained:
“Relax. This money came from a legendary place.”
“You’ve heard of the City of Gold, haven’t you?”
Momonga nodded slowly.
“Yeah, Shandora—the City of Gold, said to be floating tens of thousands of meters in the sky… But that’s just a myth... Wait! Don’t tell me you actually found it?!”
His eyes widened as he stared at Darren.
“Where do you think I got your Rumble-Rumble Fruit from?” Darren replied offhandedly, exhaling a ring of smoke.
Only then did realization dawn on Momonga.
“So Shandora really does exist... No wonder…”
Everything suddenly made sense.
No wonder Darren had acquired a Devil Fruit that had disappeared for over a hundred years.
No wonder he suddenly possessed such an enormous wealth…
If he had really found the legendary City of Gold, then everything checked out.
After all, the Rumble-Rumble Fruit had been hidden in a Sky Island nearly ten thousand meters above sea level. That’s why it hadn’t appeared in over a century.
“When the time comes, take a few trusted men and a couple of warships to that island. Keep it as quiet as possible—minimize leaks—and bring back the gold,” Darren said calmly.
Momonga raised an eyebrow, hesitating.
“You don’t seriously think anyone in the North Blue would dare try and rob our fleet’s gold, do you?”
Darren shook his head and rubbed his temples, as if he had a headache.
“That’s not it. I’m not worried about pirates or some mob family...”
“What I’m worried about is, if Headquarters finds out we have that kind of money, Sengoku himself might show up at the 321st Branch the very next day.”
“He’d probably act like a broke ghost, loitering around the restroom just to beg for handouts. We wouldn’t even be able to take a dump in peace.”
Momonga: …
He thought about it, his mouth twitching, then finally muttered:
“You’re not wrong.”
Darren may have exaggerated, but the logic was sound.
If Marine Headquarters learned the North Blue Fleet had access to such a massive sum of money, they’d never let it go.
They wouldn’t outright rob them—Darren’s strength and status wouldn’t allow that.
But knowing Sengoku, he’d find a way to extract a large portion through “proper channels.”
And if Headquarters made the request, refusing them completely would be unthinkable. Doing so would basically sever ties with the top brass.
“In any case, once you get the money, move quickly. Expand the military roster. Within a year, increase the number of warships in the North Blue Fleet to at least twenty.”
Darren narrowed his eyes.
“And if I remember correctly, Borsalino should’ve deployed some of the latest tech weapons to the North Blue recently, right?”
Momonga nodded.
“Yeah, the Special Science Group’s laser weapons have been installed on a few of our ships…”
His eyes lit up with growing excitement.
“These laser weapons—unlike anything we’ve ever seen. In initial tests, just one shot was enough to obliterate a vessel capable of carrying over a hundred men.”
It was precisely this added firepower that had given Momonga the confidence to seal off Rubeck Island, ready to level the Donquixote Family at any time.
After all, fear always stemmed from lack of firepower.
“The only problem is, these laser weapons consume massive amounts of energy, and the recharging system is extremely complex. We still haven’t figured out exactly how they work or what kind of energy source they use…”
Darren frowned.
“So what you’re saying is: the weapons are powerful, but the core technology is still tightly controlled by Borsalino’s Special Science Group?”
Momonga nodded.
“Exactly. So for now, our fleet’s primary offensive strength still comes from traditional heavy artillery, supplemented by a few tech weapons borrowed from Germa 66.”
“And to conceal the fleet’s real strength, we only reported a procurement request for five ships to the Science Division.”
“Hmm… Got it.”
In the original story, the laser weapons only reached full deployment on the Pacifistas. But the power source had never been explicitly revealed.
After thinking for a moment, Darren suddenly said:
“Remove one laser cannon from a ship and send it to Vinsmoke Judge. Have him study and redesign the weapon’s power system.”
“You sure that guy can pull it off?”
Momonga asked with some doubt.
“So far, Germa 66’s weapons are nowhere near as powerful as the SSG’s laser cannons.”
Darren nodded.
“Vinsmoke Judge used to work alongside Vegapunk. Everything the Marine Science Division has—those are just scraps from Vegapunk’s most cutting-edge research.”
“With Judge’s skillset, cracking and reengineering the laser weapon’s power system shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Germa 66’s tech weapons are inferior because Judge never focused on weaponry. His real field of expertise is gene modification.”
Back when Darren first saw the newborn Vinsmoke Reiju, he immediately recognized the signs of bloodline factor enhancement.
Of course, if we’re talking about technological capabilities, that fat guy Queen would actually be the better fit.
Darren had seen with his own eyes how Queen launched laser attacks back in the Beasts Pirates’ base.
But that suspender-wearing lump wasn’t his subordinate.
“No problem. But if you’re planning to redesign the laser power system… what kind of energy source do you intend to use?”
Momonga asked again.
Darren didn’t respond. He just looked at him with a smile.
Momonga thought for a moment—then his face instantly turned black.
“#%@&$—!?@#*!%!!”
---
To be continued...
Notes:
SSG, Special Science Group, and science division all refer to the same entity — the Marines’ elite scientific unit led by Vegapunk (海军特殊科学班). These terms are interchangeable depending on context.
Chapter 248: Chapter 150: The Great North Blue Gathering
Summary:
“A fleet is more than ships—it is vision, fire, and the will to reshape the seas.”
Chapter Text
Darren casually scratched his ear, completely ignoring Momonga's grumbling beside him.
This journey to the Sky Island had been far more fruitful than he’d expected—and surprisingly smooth. No real obstacles had stood in his way.
First, he had discovered the Rumble-Rumble Fruit hidden within the ruins of an abandoned temple. Then, he had gone straight to the City of Gold, Shandora, and used his Magnet-Magnet Fruit to clean out every last ounce of treasure from the island.
As for other Sky Island specialties—like the Dials and Impact Dials—he didn’t have much interest.
Such tools were meaningless to someone of his strength. And even if used for equipping the North Blue Fleet, the quantity was far too limited—nothing more than a novelty.
When it came to military forces, only scalable, replicable standard equipment had true strategic value.
Which is exactly why he wanted the Marine Science Division’s laser cannons to be modified.
With a core technology like military weaponry, being dependent on others was unacceptable.
Otherwise, every time the laser cannon ran out of energy, they’d have to beg the SSG to recharge it—an operational nightmare.
Admittedly, finding a new power source for the modified laser weapons had once been a problem.
But now that Momonga had the Rumble-Rumble Fruit… that problem practically solved itself.
“Besides that, we can also move forward with further modifications to the fleet’s warships.”
Darren suddenly narrowed his eyes as the thought struck him.
“Ship modifications? You mean replacing the keel structures with metallic materials? The North Blue Fleet’s already been doing that.”
Momonga blinked in confusion, then replied.
The North Blue Fleet, in collaboration with Germa 66, had already begun modifying their ships.
By integrating shape-memory alloys and lightweight metals into the keel design—replacing traditional wooden structures—not only had they dramatically improved durability, but also made the ships compatible with Darren’s Devil Fruit ability, forming a “flying fleet.”
Even though these modifications were costly—with each warship exceeding three hundred million berries due to structural upgrades, heavy artillery, and tech weapons—it was money well spent.
Darren’s blueprint for the North Blue Fleet didn’t just aim for dominance at sea.
He wanted air superiority too.
“No,”
Darren shook his head.
“That’s part of it. But now I’m talking about overhauling the propulsion systems.”
“Propulsion...?”
A dreadful feeling crept over Momonga’s heart. His expression stiffened.
“You’re not thinking...”
Darren grinned.
“Electrification is the future. Using electric power for propulsion would drastically improve our ships’ cruising speed—easily doubling or tripling it. That kind of boost in combat maneuverability for the North Blue Fleet is indisputable.”
“Not to mention, we could finally scrap those bulky masts and lighten the entire vessel… making operations faster, more agile. I don’t need to explain to you what that means tactically, do I?”
Momonga: …
His face drooped like a wilted eggplant. Miserable, on the verge of tears, he muttered:
“You’re a devil…”
Sure, he had eaten the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
But that didn’t mean he was the Battery-Battery Fruit user!
At this rate, he’d be stuck day and night charging up the fleet…
Just picturing that cruel, inhumane future made him want to keel over and die.
Still… he had to admit, Darren’s vision for the North Blue Fleet was bold—grand—and impossible not to be excited about.
“Why do you think I gave you the Rumble-Rumble Fruit in the first place…”
Darren smirked, unable to hold back a laugh.
---
North Blue – Rubeck Island
Fresh flowers and balloons lined the clean, bustling harbor. Ships flying dozens of different banners slowly sailed in.
The entire island was lit up, brimming with celebration.
Shops lined the streets offering “50% OFF” sales, and the crowd was thick and lively.
Leaders of major trading companies had arrived early, along with envoys from royal families and nobility across the seas—all here for one event: the birthday celebration of Donquixote Doflamingo, young head of the Donquixote Family.
“Unbelievable… Who’d have thought a kid barely in his teens could grow his power base to this extent…”
“Shh! Quiet, do you have a death wish?!”
“Don’t be fooled by his age—Doflamingo’s cunning and strength are top-tier in the North Blue. Rumor has it his trade network’s already reaching into the Grand Line…”
Small groups whispered in hushed tones across the crowd.
Some spoke in awe. Others mocked. Some jeered. Others admired.
But soon, all eyes were drawn toward the harbor as a uniquely shaped vessel came into view.
It looked like a floating fortress—bristling with turrets and towers. From its mast fluttered a bold flag marked with the number “66”.
“That’s… a Germa 66 ship!!”
“The Vinsmoke Family actually showed up?!”
“Damn it! Let’s stay out of their way!”
The festive crowd swiftly parted, creating a wide open path.
Soon, a tall man with golden blond hair and shining armor descended from the ship—Vinsmoke Judge, flanked by modified soldiers in black suits.
“That brat Doflamingo… he’s managed this island quite well, hasn’t he…”
Vinsmoke Judge paid no mind to the nervous, wary glances around him. He swept his eyes across the streets with cold amusement tugging at his lips.
“Lord Vinsmoke, our young master has been expecting you. This way, please.”
A low voice sounded before him.
Judge blinked, surprised, as a well-groomed young man with slicked-back hair and the poise of a gentleman seemed to “rise” from the ground.
“I am Senor, an officer of the Donquixote Family.”
Clad in a sharp peaked lapel suit, a pocket square adorning his chest, Senor bowed with graceful formality.
Judge’s brow creased ever so slightly.
He hadn’t even sensed the man’s approach.
Not bad...
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen your young master.”
A polite, insincere smile curved Judge’s lips. With a wave of his hand, several black-suited men unloaded a massive crate from the ship.
“This is a birthday gift from the Vinsmoke Family.”
Senor smiled.
“Thank you. On behalf of the young master, I accept your generous gift.”
“This way, please…”
He raised a hand in gesture.
Judge nodded and began to step forward—then paused, lowering his foot.
“No rush. You’ve got another guest incoming.”
He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes toward the distant sea.
Out there—
A heavily armed, massive warship was cutting through the waves.
Headed straight for Rubeck Island.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 249: Chapter 151: Such a Big Show of Power
Summary:
“Power is a stage, and every guest knows their role—until the one who writes the script appears.”
Chapter Text
“It’s the Marines…”
“Even the North Blue Fleet is here?”
“Doflamingo sure has some serious pull… getting the North Blue Fleet to show up for his birthday!”
“What nonsense are you spouting? You really think the Donquixote Family could’ve taken over the North Blue underworld so easily without the North Blue Fleet’s tacit approval?”
“Wait… you’re not saying—”
“Heh… while there’s no official evidence, rumor has it Doflamingo’s relationship with the former Supreme Commander of the North Blue isn’t exactly ordinary…”
“The former Supreme Commander of the North Blue… that’s the ‘King of the North Blue,’ isn’t it?!”
“…”
The moment that legendary name was spoken, a shiver of dread and awe ran through the assembled guests. Many of them gulped hard, their eyes showing a mix of fear and submission.
Yet among the noble ladies and princesses in attendance—some brought by their husbands or fathers—there were glimmers of mischief and intrigue in their eyes, the hint of unspoken desires lingering as they licked their lips.
In less than half a minute, the giant warship—its exaggerated steel form looming—glided smoothly into the harbor under the tense silence of all watching eyes.
The gangplank thudded down.
A unit of Marines in crisp uniforms disembarked with heavy, deliberate steps, their overwhelming presence exerting a suffocating pressure.
At the head was a man who looked no more than twenty. Yet the calm, cold sharpness in his gaze—and the small mustache that adorned his upper lip—gave him a gravity well beyond his years. A ceremonial blade hung at his side.
It was the current Supreme Commander of the North Blue—Marine Headquarters Captain, Momonga!
“Supreme Commander Momonga, it’s been a long time.”
Vinsmoke Judge approached him with a polite, insincere smile, extending a hand.
Momonga clasped it with a measured smile.
“Indeed, Judge. Long time no see.”
The two men’s eyes narrowed faintly, each sizing up the other. After a few moments—punctuated by the click click of reporters’ cameras—they both released their grip.
Tomorrow’s North Blue headlines would surely shout something like: “Enduring Friendship Between the North Blue Fleet and the Germa Kingdom.”
Momonga turned his gaze next to Senor, a note of approval in his eyes.
“You must be Senor? Hm, Doflamingo certainly has good judgment.”
Senor blinked in surprise.
He hadn’t expected Momonga to recognize him, and with an awkward, respectful bow, he said:
“Supreme Commander Momonga, sir—our young master is already waiting for you in the reception hall.”
Momonga chuckled softly.
“Then please, lead the way.”
And so, led by Senor, Momonga and Vinsmoke Judge walked side by side toward the reception hall.
Their respective entourages kept their distance—a careful, silent line of separation.
The guests watched this spectacle with wary, unsettled glances, suppressing their unease as they too moved to follow.
---
The grand ballroom was awash in the warm, extravagant glow of crystal chandeliers. Soft, flowing saxophone music floated through the air.
It was nearly unimaginable—the combined weight of the entire North Blue’s royalty and power gathered here. Heads of state, industry titans, all mingling beneath one gilded roof.
Deals worth kingdoms were struck with casual words. A single joke could decide the fate of entire economies. A thoughtless bet… the future of countless families.
“Mr. Fells, good evening… oh, and this is your lovely wife? My pleasure, Lady Dani.”
“...Hm, I have other matters to attend to—let’s speak later.”
Momonga finally escaped the relentless social ambush, his expression dark.
He snatched a glass of red wine from a passing server’s tray, tipping it back in one swift gulp before shaking his head in mute exasperation.
Honestly… if you want me to smooth things over with Doflamingo, just say so!
But pulling your wife out in that dress—damn near to her navel—what are you thinking?
“These people are exhausting…”
He rubbed his temples, mumbling to himself.
Just then, a faintly mocking voice drifted from behind.
“Power, status, wealth… all of it can be a real headache sometimes, can’t it, Supreme Commander Momonga?”
Momonga turned, seeing Vinsmoke Judge approaching with a wry grin, offering him a glass of chilled whiskey.
“It seems you’re speaking from experience, Judge.”
Momonga smiled faintly and accepted the glass.
Judge merely shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in and lowered his voice.
“I hear Commodore Darren has been causing quite the commotion in the New World.”
Momonga met his gaze for a moment—then a small smile curved his lips.
“Oh, nothing much. He only wiped out the Beasts Pirates’ headquarters.”
Vinsmoke Judge’s eyelids twitched.
As Germa 66’s supreme commander, he knew exactly how terrifying the Beasts Pirates were.
Especially Queen, one of their top officers—he and Judge had once been colleagues in the same research group.
Judge knew just how formidable that bizarre, suspender-loving fat man truly was.
At first, he’d refused to believe it—Darren’s strength was monstrous, but to crush the Beasts Pirates’ main stronghold?
But now, hearing it confirmed from Momonga’s own mouth, a cold shiver snaked down Judge’s spine.
He was silent for a long moment before finally managing to murmur:
“Commodore Darren truly is the pride of the North Blue.”
Momonga gave a small, knowing smile. Sensing the timing was right, he spoke up:
“By the way, Judge—regarding the North Blue Fleet’s cooperation with Germa 66, Commodore Darren has a small proposal…”
Judge’s brows drew together.
This guy… using Darren’s name to pressure me?
Suppressing a flicker of irritation, he replied coolly:
“Let’s hear it, Supreme Commander.”
Momonga’s smile didn’t waver.
“It concerns our new weapons and the ongoing ship modifications…”
Half a minute later, Vinsmoke Judge gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“That… shouldn’t be a problem.”
His eyes swept around the ballroom, and he frowned.
“Though I have to say… where the hell is Doflamingo? His show of power is getting a bit ridiculous…”
Momonga gave him a pointed smile.
“Perhaps he’s… tied up with something very important.”
---
At the same time…
In the Donquixote Family’s grand hall.
The man whose birthday had summoned the entire North Blue’s nobility was nowhere to be seen at the party.
Instead, Donquixote Doflamingo was down on one knee upon the cold marble floor.
His head bowed low, he reverently kissed the back of a man’s hand.
Softly, he murmured:
“Welcome back to the North Blue, my Godfather.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 250: Chapter 152: Father and Son
Summary:
“True power is forged in trials by fire—only the strong can rise above the illusions of power.”
Chapter Text
The hall was cold and dim, shadows flickering in the pale glow of the chandeliers.
“Doffy, how have you been lately?”
Darren spoke lightly as he sprawled on a plush leather sofa, legs crossed, a snow-white cigar between his fingers. He asked the question as casually as if it were about the weather.
Trebol and the other Donquixote Family officers stood stiffly in the shadows, barely daring to breathe. The atmosphere was suffocating.
They risked cautious glances at Darren’s figure. Just by sitting there so idly, he exuded an overwhelming pressure—like a predator half-asleep, ready to pounce and tear them all apart at a moment’s notice.
This man… he’s more terrifying than ever…
The rumors Senor had shared recently—tales of Darren’s blood-soaked rampage through the Beasts Pirates’ headquarters—made their hair stand on end.
At that moment, none of them dared entertain even the faintest flicker of rebellion. Only deep, bone-chilling fear remained.
Across from him, Doflamingo sat with his usual nonchalance, taking the golden-embossed cigar that Darren tossed his way. Clenching it in his teeth, he offered a small, easy smile.
“Thank you for your concern, Godfather.”
“With Supreme Commander Momonga’s full support, the family’s business and influence have been flourishing.”
Darren gave a faint smile, shaking his head.
“No. I’m not interested in how the Donquixote Family is doing—I have absolute faith in your abilities. Otherwise, I never would’ve handed the entire North Blue underworld to you in the first place.”
“What I care about is your growth, Doffy. After all, you are my godson.”
He regarded the young man before him—a blond youth clad in his signature pink-feathered coat—his senses tracing the surge of bio-magnetic force radiating from him.
“Seems you haven’t let me down. You’ve grown quite a bit…”
Raising a hand, he gestured a height marker in the air and chuckled.
“I remember when I left the North Blue a few months ago, you were only this tall. And now you’re nearly one-eighty.”
Darren wasn’t entirely sure of Doflamingo’s exact age—probably twelve or thirteen. But boys that age shot up fast—especially a natural-born “Dark King” like Doflamingo.
To Darren’s eyes, the changes were obvious. The boy’s body and aura had transformed utterly since his departure.
Most striking was the sheer intensity of Doflamingo’s bio-magnetic field—doubled, at least.
The defiance in his aura, the cold savagery in his brows… it was starting to overlap with the image of that future “Shichibukai” that Darren remembered.
Small wonder even Momonga couldn’t sit still around this boy.
His growth… truly astounding.
“This is good,” Darren said softly.
Very good.
Doflamingo pressed his lips together, silent.
Outwardly calm, he couldn’t help the wary suspicion creeping in. What exactly did Darren mean by those words?
“Any struggles in your training recently?”
Darren spoke again, smoke curling from his lips like a dragon’s breath.
Doflamingo’s brow twitched.
What was he getting at?
Pushing down his unease, he answered steadily:
“Nothing too troubling. I’ve kept up my training diligently. I’ve been honing my Devil Fruit powers, but I haven’t neglected my physical conditioning, either.”
“Oh?”
A faint smile played on Darren’s lips.
In an instant—without a single warning—he vanished from the sofa.
Doflamingo’s pupils contracted to pinpoints, every muscle in his body tensing like a drawn bowstring.
A chilling sense of lethal danger enveloped him, and sweat prickled along his spine.
He couldn’t see it.
He couldn’t track Darren’s movements at all!
Instinct alone guided him. His fingers clawed out at the empty air before him in a flash of motion.
Clang!
Sparks flared in a shower of firelight, illuminating the dark-haired Marine’s arrogant, domineering face.
Five nearly invisible threads of razor-sharp wire held Doflamingo’s clawed hand in check, shimmering coldly in the light.
Threads that could slice through stone and steel—yet they couldn’t cut through flesh.
“Young master!!”
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Damn it!!”
Trebol and the other officers finally reacted, faces twisting in alarm as they reached for their weapons.
“Stand down!”
Doflamingo snapped coldly, halting them in their tracks.
A bead of sweat slid down his temple, tracing his cheek as his sunglasses caught the faint glint of Darren’s amused, unshakable smile.
Doflamingo met that smile and let out a low, sinister laugh.
“Heh heh heh… no need to panic. The Godfather is merely testing the fruits of my training.”
Trebol and the others paused, still shaken. Their eyes darted to Darren, uncertain.
Testing training, huh?
Yet that moment of killing intent had felt like a mountain of corpses and rivers of blood. It had been suffocating.
Still, they trusted Doflamingo. One by one, they took a breath, lowered their weapons, and stepped back.
They knew the truth. If this Marine wanted Doflamingo dead, there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.
Seeing this, Darren’s smile grew satisfied.
“Very good. Your reactions are sharp… and your strength—”
He casually flexed his fingers, pulling those razor-sharp threads taut.
In Trebol’s and the others’ stunned gaze, those threads—normally unbreakable—twisted and bowed under the light pressure of Darren’s grip.
“—has grown quite a bit.”
He looked into the young blond’s eyes, smiling warmly.
“I can see it clearly—you haven’t been slacking off at all. As your Godfather, that pleases me.”
“Remember this, Doffy: industry, trade, territory, power… all those things that seem so grand and important? They’re just illusions.”
He gestured vaguely toward the long hall leading to the banquet, the faint echoes of clinking glasses and polite laughter drifting down the corridor.
“Some people spend their entire lives chasing those illusions. They call themselves successful, even great. But to the truly strong, they’re nothing but insects.”
“Don’t let your eyes be clouded by shallow success. This ocean… in the end, it’s a cruel jungle where only strength matters. Strength is the only thing that can truly lift you above it all.”
“Now… take a shot at me. While I’m back in the North Blue, let me guide your training personally.”
He smiled faintly, eyes glinting.
“Otherwise, I wouldn’t be much of a Godfather, would I?”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 251: Chapter 153: Darren’s Justice
Summary:
“The line between mentor and executioner blurs when power is the only truth.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Guidance… for my training?
At Darren’s words, Doflamingo’s eyes sharpened, an emotion both unfamiliar and stirring rising slowly from within their depths.
Is he serious?
The “monster” of Marine Headquarters—who had eliminated “World Destroyer” Byrnndi World and wiped out the Beasts Pirates’ headquarters—was offering to guide his training?
Doflamingo’s first instinct was suspicion.
Sure, in name they were godfather and godson. With the North Blue Fleet’s support, the Donquixote Family had grown at a shocking pace, expanding faster than even he had imagined.
But Doflamingo knew better than to believe that a cold-blooded man like Darren trusted him.
The day Momonga sealed off all of Rubeck Island with a fleet of warships, he’d seen it clearly enough.
If anything were to happen to Darren in the New World, Momonga would not hesitate to rain down fire and wipe the Donquixote Family from the map—no matter the cost.
Of course, Doflamingo didn’t trust Darren, either.
This “harmony” they maintained was just a convenient mask—a polite fiction in a game of endless maneuvering.
He licked his dry lips, a cold smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you sure, my dear Godfather?”
Darren’s smile deepened.
“Of course. What could be more gratifying for a father than watching his son grow ever stronger?”
Doflamingo inhaled deeply. Veins bulged across the backs of his hands as he tensed in an instant.
A mad grin split his face, the lenses of his sunglasses glowing red with feral light. His fingers curved into claws as he lunged forward!
His manic laughter echoed through the cold, cavernous hall.
“Heh heh heh!! Then don’t blame me for being rude, Godfather!!”
Swish!!
In that instant—
It was as though countless invisible blades had ripped through the air, splitting it with a crackling sound.
Without a whisper—
The ceiling, the floor, the very walls of the hall bloomed with fine, clean cuts, as if a thousand razors had swept across them in perfect silence.
The tea table between them burst apart, each piece sheared smooth as glass.
Doflamingo had launched a storm of attacks at the Marine Commodore!
---
Ten minutes later.
The entire hall lay in ruin.
The walls and floor were scarred by countless slashes, like claw marks left by some giant beast. The wine cabinet, the glassware, the bookshelves—nothing remained intact.
Trebol and the other officers stared in mute, disbelieving awe at the man standing calmly in the wreckage, lighting a fresh cigar.
Smoke curled from Darren’s lips as he exhaled, his eyes warm with an almost paternal pride.
“Now do you understand?”
“Your Devil Fruit mastery is impressive, but your timing—your ruthlessness—still needs work.”
“And your physical abilities—strength, speed—they need further honing.”
“That’s the foundation of everything.”
“And about the close-quarters combat I just showed you… spend more time on it. Learn it well.”
“With your current power, you might be untouchable here in the North Blue. But in the Grand Line, in the New World… you’ll face despair you can’t even imagine.”
Doflamingo knelt, pale-faced, chest heaving. Sweat beaded on his brow, his lips cracked and dry, his eyes dazed and shaken.
So strong…
No matter what he did, he hadn’t been able to land a single blow on Darren.
He’d thought his training these past months would let him narrow the gap between them.
But it hadn’t.
The man before him seemed impossibly vast, impossibly distant—his towering shadow pressing down like a storm cloud, leaving Doflamingo gasping for breath.
And what shook him most—
Darren had really been guiding him.
Every motion, every counter, every subtle lesson in the use of the String-String Fruit… each dissected with the precision of a scalpel. Darren’s insight cut through Doflamingo’s confusion like a blade, leaving him with a shocking clarity.
Swallowing, he finally forced out a hoarse whisper:
“Thank you… for your guidance, Godfather.”
Darren smiled softly.
Doflamingo’s past training had been clumsy—feeling his way in the dark without any real method.
His lieutenants—Trebol and the rest—were loyal, but they couldn’t truly help him grow.
For someone like Darren, with his depth of knowledge and battlefield experience, guiding Doflamingo was almost too easy.
In the original history, Doflamingo’s strength never surpassed that of a Yonko’s commander. He’d lost to Luffy in the end, partly because he never had a true mentor.
Kaido might have filled that role, but Doflamingo had chosen cooperation over rivalry—so he’d remained stuck at that level.
But now… things were different.
Under Darren’s watchful eye and relentless trials, this young, defiant flamingo might truly take flight—unfurling wings so brilliant the entire world would tremble.
“This is what a Godfather should do,” Darren said, his voice quiet but certain.
“Grow quickly, Doffy…”
He turned his gaze toward the distant horizon beyond the glass window—where the endless ocean stretched away.
The drifting cigar smoke blurred the hard, chiseled lines of his face.
“Compared to the splendor of the Grand Line, this tiny North Blue is nothing.”
“I look forward to the day you set sail for that ocean.”
“And when you do… nothing in this world will be able to stand in our way.”
Hearing those words, Doflamingo felt a fire roar to life inside him. The hunger. The ambition. The promise.
He stared at the side of Darren’s face, lips pressed tight, fists clenched at his sides, silent.
Darren turned back and clapped him lightly on the shoulder, smiling.
“Go. They’re waiting for you at the party.”
Doflamingo rose slowly.
He watched as Darren turned away, ready to leave—then, driven by some fierce, reckless urge, he bit out:
“Darren! Why are you helping me?”
“Don’t underestimate me—I see the killing intent in your eyes!”
“And you must know… if I ever get the chance to kill you, I won’t hesitate!”
The words hung in the air. Trebol and the others froze, faces going pale, a collective gasp of horror.
Darren paused.
He looked back, and his grin was as bright as the sun.
“Good. Keep that desire to kill me alive.”
“Hatred is the best fuel for power—whether that hate is aimed at me, the World Government, or even the Celestial Dragons and the Gorosei… it doesn’t matter.”
“As for why I’m helping you…”
Darren’s eyes glinted mischievously.
“Do you know what my brand of justice is?”
Doflamingo blinked.
“…What is it?”
Darren’s mouth curved up in a wicked, fearless smile.
“Because I think it’s going to be fun.”
“A fallen prince, cast out by his own bloodline, rising to tear them all apart… isn’t that a story worth watching?”
“And finally… happy birthday, Doffy—my dear godson.”
With that last, soft laugh, Darren’s figure vanished.
Leaving Doflamingo standing frozen in the ruins, unmoving.
A long, long moment passed.
At last, under the wary, worried eyes of Trebol and the others—
The cold gleam returned to Doflamingo’s eyes.
“Hehhehheh…”
He started to laugh.
A wild, shaking laugh that left his whole body trembling, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.
“So… amusing… so very amusing…”
“My dear Godfather… your justice…”
“Hehhahahha…”
He threw his head back, his pink-feathered coat swirling around him.
“—‘Desire-Driven Justice’!!!”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
“随心所欲の正義” is the original Chinese phrase that describes Darren’s personal concept of justice. I chose to translate it as “Desire-Driven Justice” because it captures the idea of acting entirely according to one’s own will. Does this name fit Darren’s philosophy in your view, or would you suggest a different translation?
Chapter 252: Chapter 154: So Close
Summary:
“In the forge of thunder and fire, the only path forward is to push past the edge of death itself.”
Chapter Text
“Desire-Driven Justice…”
As their young master stood there, his body quaking with manic laughter, Trebol and the other officers of the Donquixote Family turned pale, stiffly echoing those words in hushed voices.
They weighed the wild arrogance, the fierce swagger, the overwhelming aura in that single phrase—feeling it ripple through their bones, leaving them chilled and breathless.
Doflamingo slowly raised a hand, pressing it over his face. From beneath his palm, the corners of his lips curved into a ferocious, twisted smile.
“Heh heh heh… So it turns out you and I… are the same kind of people!”
A long moment passed.
Finally, he lowered his hand, the laughter fading from his face. His fingers—clawed like talons—twitched idly, and behind his sunglasses, his eyes gleamed with a cold, unreadable light.
“You really are a complete lunatic… my dear Godfather…”
“In that case, I’ll be counting on your guidance from now on.”
His voice dropped to a quiet murmur.
He pushed his tousled blond hair back, adjusted his crimson shirt, and in the silence of the cold, shadowed hall, he began to walk away—step by step down the long corridor.
“About his ‘justice’—none of you are to speak a word of it, understood?”
The overhead lights cast shifting patterns of shadow across Doflamingo’s face, his pink-feathered coat fluttering behind him as his cold, imperious command echoed in the hall.
Trebol and the others fell to one knee, bowing their proud heads in unison.
“Yes, young master.”
Doflamingo’s face was blank as he walked on, the click of his pointed shoes ringing across the marble floor.
The closer he drew to the doors of the banquet hall, the clearer grew the sounds of clinking glasses and laughing voices—guests from every corner of the North Blue.
He stood a moment in the darkness, the shadows swallowing his youthful features.
Then—bang!
He shoved the doors open with sudden force.
Light and noise crashed over him all at once, engulfing his figure.
He stepped into the bright, roaring crowd with a practiced, empty smile, the picture of a gracious host.
He stepped into the light.
---
The birthday feast of Donquixote Doflamingo, King of the North Blue’s underworld, ended in a storm of revelry and laughter.
---
One month later.
A desolate island in the North Blue.
“Ten Million Volt—Thunderbird!!”
A giant bird of lightning, several meters tall, erupted from the dense jungle, its blazing blue wings of raw thunder tearing through the canopy in a fury of destruction.
Ancient trees crashed to the earth one after another, kicked up in clouds of dust as flames burst into life—red tongues of fire spreading across the forest floor.
A shockwave of explosive heat fanned out from the impact zone, thick black smoke billowing skyward.
In the midst of that inferno, a towering figure was hurled backward, boots tearing a long groove through the charred soil.
Darren stood there shirtless, black smoke curling from burns on his skin—some already charred by the electricity.
Yet his eyes blazed with excitement, his cigar burning down to a stub as he let out a booming laugh.
“That’s all you’ve got, Momonga?!”
“Come on—can you do better than this?!”
A furious roar echoed from deeper in the woods:
“Darren, you bastard! Don’t underestimate me!!”
As those words died, a flicker of electric light burst from the smoking heart of the jungle, arcing skyward in a sudden flash.
Darren’s eyes sharpened.
This feeling…
He could sense it—within a hundred meters, the magnetic field bent and buckled, surging in a tide of power.
This technique…
A memory flared in his mind, and he raised his head, grinning with anticipation.
Above him, the sky had turned black—dense thunderclouds swirling in a monstrous whirlpool, boiling with a terrifying force.
“Thirty Million Volt—Wrath of Thunder!!”
A pillar of blue lightning shot down from the heavens like a spear of judgment, slamming into the earth where Darren stood!
BOOM!!
The ground for ten meters around was pulverized, churned up and vaporized. A scalding wind howled outward, tearing at the forest like a demon’s breath.
Blinding light swallowed the world as the storm’s roar flattened the trees, some ripped from the earth entirely.
Molten plasma poured across the shattered ground, a river of electric fury.
At the center of it all, the Marine Commodore’s figure stood tall, arms flung wide.
A savage grin split his face, his whole body wreathed in the dazzling storm of light.
---
Half a minute later, silence crept back to the island.
The jungle was devastated—whole swaths burned to ash, embers glowing red in the smoky haze.
At the heart of it all, a blackened crater yawned wide—massive and raw.
Around it, everything had been erased by the thunder’s fury. Bits of stone, superheated and melted, had fused into glassy crystals, glowing a dark red in the gloom.
Little arcs of electricity still jumped and hissed across the crater’s floor.
Momonga stumbled from the trees, bruised and battered. His heart clenched at the sight before him, and he broke into a run.
“Darren…”
He reached the crater’s edge, eyes wide with alarm as he saw the Marine Commodore’s motionless figure standing there, blackened like a statue.
No way…
“Hey! Darren!! Are you alright?!”
Momonga’s eyelid twitched violently.
The power of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit had far outstripped his expectations. Had he really just killed Darren…?
“Cough, cough, cough!!”
Suddenly, the figure in the crater coughed violently, black smoke puffing from his nose as he spat out the last charred scrap of his cigar.
“…So close… I almost overdid it.”
Momonga: “…”
Darren shook the ash from his head and, like nothing had happened, fished out a new pack of cigarettes. He clucked his tongue appreciatively.
“You’re really something, Momonga. Seems giving you the Rumble-Rumble Fruit was the right call. You’ve already learned this move so quickly.”
He bit down on a fresh cigarette, lighting it with a glowing shard of molten stone he picked up from the ground.
Hearing that, Momonga’s chest swelled with pride.
To be praised by Darren—the monster admired by Zephyr, Garp, and Sengoku themselves—filled him with an unparalleled sense of accomplishment.
“I can see it clearly—you’re perfectly in sync with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.”
Darren clapped him on the shoulder, nodding with genuine approval.
“…So close. I almost had to use Armament Haki to block it.”
Momonga’s proud smile froze in place.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 253: Chapter 155: Dragon’s in trouble
Summary:
“In the harshest of winters, even the brightest flame can be snuffed out by a single reckless choice.”
Chapter Text
“I swear, sometimes you’re just begging to be punched…”
Momonga gave a small, exasperated sigh.
“Oh.”
Darren merely shrugged, as if he hadn’t heard Momonga’s complaint at all.
After a month of “special training,” Momonga’s strength had transformed entirely.
He had already mastered the basics of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, adapting it to different combat situations with surprising ease.
He could transform his body into pure lightning and dart through air and conductive materials at breakneck speed.
He could discharge bolts of high-voltage thunder at mid-range, striking targets with surgical precision.
He could harness the searing heat and piercing power of lightning to unleash devastating attacks.
All told, though Momonga still hadn’t awakened Haki, his overall combat power was now easily on par with a Marine Vice Admiral—possibly even within reach of the elite among them.
After all, the raw advantage conferred by the Rumble-Rumble Fruit was simply overwhelming.
As for how he should develop the fruit’s abilities, Darren hadn’t offered any grand theories or personal insights. Instead, he’d pointed Momonga toward a single, clear model—Enel.
Enel, “God” of Skypiea, the original Rumble-Rumble Fruit user in the canon story.
While Enel’s reign ended abruptly thanks to Luffy’s unique rubber immunity, there was no denying his formidable mastery of the fruit.
The key point was that Enel’s approach to the Rumble-Rumble Fruit was direct and easy to replicate.
This likely spoke to some deeper logic at the heart of Devil Fruit mastery.
Every fruit had its own natural pathways for growth.
We saw this in the canon story: when Blackbeard stole Whitebeard’s Tremor Tremor fruit, he immediately wielded the same devastating “Quake” techniques. When Sabo inherited Ace’s Flame Flame fruit, the first move he unlocked was “Fire Fist,” echoing his predecessor’s signature attack.
Why? Because these signature abilities were the simplest, most accessible ways to harness each fruit’s power.
For Momonga, Darren didn’t intend for him to become a flawless all-rounder like Sakazuki, Kuzan, or Borsalino.
The truth was, Momonga didn’t have their freakish natural gifts or monstrous potential.
So instead, Darren envisioned him as a new Enel—a master of Haki, swordsmanship, and physical combat to complement the terrifying might of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
Enel himself had been a true monster, his fruit’s power alone enough to make him a walking disaster.
Now, with Momonga adding in his own skills and training in the use of Haki, he wouldn’t be as vulnerable in close-quarters combat as Enel had been.
He wouldn’t be unstoppable, but he’d be a force to reckon with.
At the very least, he’d be a solid contender at the lower end of Admiral-level combat power.
After all, reaching the absolute top required more than just talent—it took fate, luck, and a lifetime of battle.
As for Darren himself, his own progress over this month had been more than satisfactory.
His body had grown stronger by three points, while his strength and speed each ticked up by one. Even his Armament Haki had grown by two points—earned in the brutal back-and-forth of “training” with Momonga.
His updated stats now read:
Physique: 82.812
Strength: 71.513
Speed: 71.899
Armament Haki: 39.035
Conqueror’s Haki: 52.301
Yet with time, the effects of this “lightning forging” had begun to wane.
He’d even started to develop a kind of resistance—now, any lightning below ten million volts simply slid harmlessly off his skin, like water off a stone.
It was almost as if he were immune to electricity itself.
Looks like this method won’t do much more for me in the short term…
Darren studied his stats, mind turning over the problem.
Maybe, once Momonga pushed his output to fifty million volts or beyond—even a hundred million—this method might become useful again.
But for now? It was time to stop wasting time in the North Blue.
“How’s the collaboration with Vinsmoke Judge coming along?” he asked, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
Momonga blinked, then asked:
“You’re heading back to Headquarters?”
Darren nodded with a wry smile.
“Zephyr-sensei has already called me several times, chewing me out until my ears are ringing. If I don’t show up soon, he’ll probably drag me back by the scruff of my neck.”
Just picturing Zephyr’s furious, red-faced scowl over the Den Den Mushi was enough to give him a headache.
He’d tried explaining that he’d found a highly effective training method here in the North Blue.
But that only made Zephyr explode.
“What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you saying my training is worthless?!”
Darren obviously couldn’t tell the old man the real truth: that a single day of beatings in Kaido’s prison had taught him more than weeks of drills at Marineford.
He could already imagine how that conversation would go…
When he got back, there was no way he’d be getting any warm welcomes.
“Zephyr’s just looking out for you, you know,” Momonga said with a rare smile, enjoying the sight of Darren finally looking a little put-upon.
“But as for the collaboration with Vinsmoke Judge… the engine refits haven’t seen much progress yet, but the laser weapon has.”
“Vinsmoke Judge says Germa 66 has successfully reverse-engineered the core energy structure of the laser cannon. He thinks it won’t be long before they’re ready to start production.”
“Good.”
Darren nodded, raising his head to watch the sunset blazing in the clouds far off on the horizon.
The cold air bit at his skin. Snowflakes began to drift down from the sky, even as the sun painted the clouds in radiant reds and golds.
A beautiful contradiction—snow falling in the bitter cold, yet the sky alight with such breathtaking color.
He let out a small sigh, a smile playing at his lips.
“This year’s almost over,” he murmured. “Time to go home.”
Momonga gave a knowing look, eyes crinkling in amusement.
“Of course. The end of the year is a time to be with family.”
Darren laughed lightly, about to reply—when the sharp trill of a military Den Den Mushi cut through the air.
“Buru buru… buru buru…”
Momonga eyed him slyly as he pulled out the receiver.
“Maybe it’s that lady of yours, calling you home…”
He’d seen enough over the last month to know Darren had brought a woman back to his personal quarters.
“Shut up.”
Darren rolled his eyes, snorting with a half-laugh.
Momonga raised his hands in surrender, still chuckling as he stepped away.
Darren answered the call.
And Momonga noticed immediately—the smile vanished from his friend’s face, replaced by something grim and heavy.
When he finally ended the call, Momonga hurried back over.
“What’s happened?” he demanded.
The clouds had swallowed the sunset, darkness falling over the snow-swept world.
The cold sank into their bones.
Darren licked his dry lips and let out a long breath, his voice rough.
“Dragon’s in trouble.”
Darren’s voice was low and hoarse, the words cutting through the swirling snow like a blade.
Momonga stood frozen, the icy wind biting into his skin. Before he could even begin to ask, Darren continued, his voice raw.
“He killed a Celestial Dragon at the border between the North Blue and the Grand Line…”
The Marine Commodore’s words fell heavy and cold, hanging in the air like a sentence of doom.
“—and he did it in front of a crowd.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 254: Chapter 156: Kill on Sight!
Summary:
“When loyalty collides with duty, not even the mightiest fist can hide the bitter cost of justice.”
Chapter Text
Delicate snowflakes drifted from the mournful sky, settling in Momonga’s hair, on his cheeks, across his shoulders—yet he seemed not to feel them at all.
He stood there frozen, eyes wide with shock, pupils trembling in disbelief.
He could hardly believe his own ears.
Monkey D. Dragon—
The son of the Marine “Hero” Garp.
A “monster” of Marine Headquarters.
An icon, an idol to countless young Marines.
A man destined to be an Admiral, even a future Fleet Admiral.
That same legendary Marine Rear Admiral, Dragon… had killed a Celestial Dragon, in front of witnesses!?
If these words hadn’t come from Darren’s own mouth, Momonga wouldn’t have believed it could possibly be true.
He couldn’t even imagine the storm this would unleash within the Marines!
His gaze darted back to Darren, words catching in his throat.
“To… to kill a Celestial Dragon… Darren, what’s the order from Headquarters?”
Momonga swallowed hard, his voice ragged.
Darren’s brow was furrowed into a dark knot. After a long, heavy silence, he finally shook his head.
“A moment ago, Admiral Sengoku himself called me directly. He ordered me to abandon all other duties immediately and head to the scene to carry out the arrest.”
“He said that because the incident took place in the North Blue, my old jurisdiction, I’d be the best choice to pursue Dragon and stop him from escaping.”
Darren’s voice dropped lower, grim.
“His exact words were, ‘Use any means necessary to prevent Dragon from fleeing. If needed…’”
He paused.
“‘—Kill on sight.’”
The moment the words fell, Momonga sucked in a sharp breath.
The situation… was already that dire?
A cold fog clouded his mind, thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirl.
He didn’t know Dragon well, but he’d met him—enough to be left with a vivid impression of Dragon’s natural charisma, his powerful sense of justice.
To think… that such a man—an idol for all Marines—would end up raising his sword against his comrades. The thought alone felt like a bitter wound.
“So… what are you going to do?” he asked, unable to hide his concern as he watched Darren light another cigarette, his hand trembling slightly.
“If I remember right… Dragon’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he?”
Darren shook his head.
“Not quite a friend, but… we were on good terms.”
He fell silent, his mind flashing back to that day—Dragon, lying drunk in his yard, laughing at the sky.
Darren’s eyes darkened.
“But no matter what… I have to go.”
He took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke curling from his lips as he flicked the butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.
The metal bracer on his arm unfolded into a sleek silver hoverboard, floating steadily before him.
Darren stepped up onto it, a cold glint flickering in his eyes.
He didn’t know how Vice Admiral Garp would respond to all this, but he had a good idea of how Sengoku would handle it—either seal the information or impose iron-fisted measures.
A surge of magnetic force burst from Darren’s body, launching the hoverboard forward in a scream of power.
In an instant, he broke the sound barrier, tearing through the whirling snow and vanishing into the distant clouds.
The fierce wind swept across the empty island, swirling the falling snow in its wake.
Momonga stood motionless, his cloak flapping around him, lips pressed into a thin line.
In that moment, he realized—
This cloak on his shoulders…
It felt unbearably heavy.
---
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The Admiral’s office.
“Sengoku, you bastard!!”
Garp’s furious bellow shook the walls of the office, his breath ragged, bloodshot eyes locked on the grim, stony face of Sengoku.
“What the hell is this arrest order!?”
“That’s my son!!”
Bang!
Sengoku suddenly slammed his hand down on the desk, splintering it to pieces.
“I know he’s your son!!”
His voice was thunder, his face contorted with fury.
“Do you even understand what your son has done!?”
“A Celestial Dragon!!”
“He killed a damn Celestial Dragon!!”
“And he did it in full view of everyone there!!”
“Do you know how many witnesses there were in that town!?”
“Hundreds of people saw him crush that Celestial Dragon’s skull like it was tofu!!”
Garp roared, eyes blazing red.
“He did it to protect civilians!!”
“—Even so, you can’t raise a hand against a Celestial Dragon!!”
Sengoku’s teeth ground together, his voice a low snarl.
“Garp, do you have any idea how grave this incident is?”
“A Marine—not just any Marine, but the son of ‘Hero’ Garp himself, a future Admiral—has killed a Celestial Dragon.”
“Nothing like this has ever happened in all the history of the Marines!”
“More than that… do you realize what this will mean for the World Government? Even the smallest seed of doubt they feel about the Marines cannot be repaired!”
“The World Government is already in a rage. The Gorosei themselves have given me a direct order to take action immediately.”
“So as Admiral of the Marines, I’m ordering you: until this incident is resolved, you—Monkey D. Garp—are forbidden from taking a single step out of Marineford.”
“Don’t even think about trying anything. Darren has already left for the North Blue. Sakazuki and Borsalino’s ships set sail from the headquarters ten minutes ago. Whatever you’re planning… it’s already too late.”
“Oh? Is that so!?”
Garp let out a low, twisted laugh.
A dark, suffocating force rose from his body like a deep-sea current, black-and-red lightning flickering in the air around him.
“Then let’s see, Sengoku—if you can actually stop me!!”
Sengoku’s face darkened, his own power flaring, the light of a Buddha shining around him.
But at that moment—
“Enough, Garp.”
A hoarse, aged voice cut through the room like a blade.
Garp froze.
As he heard that voice, it was like all the air had been punched from his lungs. The fierce light in his eyes dimmed, the boiling rage inside him ebbing away like a receding tide.
A bone-deep weariness settled over his shoulders.
Slowly, he turned.
A broad, imposing figure stood in the doorway.
“Kong…”
The man’s hair was swept into a Mohawk. Steel Bone Kong’s gaze was calm as he flicked his eyes toward Sengoku, then back to Garp.
“The command for this mission goes to you, Sengoku.”
Then he turned fully to Garp, voice low and steady.
“You know I can’t let you leave this island.”
His gaze was sharp as a blade, cutting through Garp’s defiance.
“You are the Marines’ ‘Hero.’ You don’t just stand for yourself.”
The words of the former Fleet Admiral fell like nails hammered into Garp’s heart. The blood drained from his face, his fury dissolving into a hollow white.
“If you act now, Garp… you’ll drag all of us down with you.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 255: Chapter 157: It’s Too Difficult
Summary:
“Duty weighs heavier than blood. Yet even the heaviest burden can’t snuff out a father’s will.”
Chapter Text
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The office of the Fleet Admiral.
It was quiet.
“Until this incident is resolved, you’ll remain here, Garp.”
Steel Bone Kong sat behind his massive desk, sifting through towering stacks of documents with a calm expression, not even lifting his head as he spoke.
Garp stood there like a statue, hollow-eyed and motionless, as if his soul had been ripped away.
On the gray walls, the black plaque reading “Justice” loomed over him, casting a weight on his shoulders like a mountain pressing down.
Outside, rain had begun to fall.
Heavy clouds hung over the sea like a shroud, smothering the world in a suffocating gloom.
The icy rain clattered against the sealed windows and bounced away, filling the air with a cold, oppressive silence.
Through the glass, Garp stared blankly at the distant naval port.
Hooded Marines patrolled the vast, oval-shaped harbor, their faces grim and their movements precise in the downpour.
Not a single warship was docked.
“Don’t bother looking,” Kong’s voice came, low and unhurried.
“I’ve already ordered every ship to put to sea. You won’t have any chance.”
A bitter smile tugged at the corners of Garp’s mouth.
The old man’s decisiveness… that was just like him.
“So… old man Kong, is there really no hope?” Garp’s lips, pale and trembling, barely formed the words.
Kong didn’t look up. His lids hung low as he flipped a page, his voice almost casual.
“Garp… you’ve always been my proudest student, and my most troublesome one. You should know—I’ve always been proud to have you as my student.”
“As for Dragon… I’ve always admired that boy.”
“His unwavering sense of justice, his natural charisma, his talent for leadership, his sharp mind, his immense strength and brilliance… even in the long history of the Marines, you’d be hard-pressed to find another youth like him.”
Garp’s bloodshot eyes shone as he clenched his teeth.
“Then save him, old man!!”
He staggered a step closer, fists shaking, the easygoing grin he always wore gone—replaced by a raw, desperate plea.
“He’s only twenty-five!!”
“He told me once he wanted to become an Admiral! He wanted to change this wretched world in the name of justice!!”
“Damn it… I should have seen it back then!”
He clamped his large hand over his face, jaw clenched, hot tears streaming out between his fingers.
Steel Bone Kong finally stopped turning pages.
He looked up, meeting the anguished eyes of the Marine hero before him.
In that moment, the image of the broad-shouldered, middle-aged man before him blurred and overlapped with the memory of a brash young Garp, grinning like a fool.
Kong let out a long sigh.
“Garp… it’s not that I won’t save him.”
“But you know what it means to raise a hand against a Celestial Dragon. And to do it in front of witnesses?”
“The severity and sensitivity of this matter… it’s already beyond Sengoku’s power to manage. It’s even beyond mine.”
A flicker of helplessness crossed his eyes.
“By the laws of the World Government, when a Celestial Dragon is harmed, an Admiral must act without hesitation… But do you know why Sengoku didn’t go himself?”
Garp blinked, confused.
Kong pulled a cigar from the box on his desk, lit it, the heavy smoke curling around his stern features.
Then he said something that stunned Garp to silence.
“Because this order came from the Gorosei.”
Kong leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, letting out a slow breath of smoke.
“Dragon’s identity… it’s too sensitive. The Government is already questioning the loyalty of the Marine leadership.”
“Can you imagine it, Garp?”
“The son of the Marine ‘Hero’… a man destined to become an Admiral, maybe even Fleet Admiral… one who should be the most loyal to the Government… and he dared to lay hands on a Celestial Dragon.”
“The Gorosei will never accept that.”
“This is no longer just about Dragon. His actions have shaken the Government’s trust in the Marines.”
Garp’s face went pale.
He’d been so consumed with the thought of his son’s fate, he hadn’t even considered the wider implications, how far-reaching the consequences would be.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Kong raised a hand, cutting him off.
“The Gorosei have already made it clear: if we let Dragon escape, the Government will slash our military funding by half.”
“Not only that—Sengoku and I had an agreement in place for his promotion. That’s already been suspended.”
“Until this matter is resolved and we regain the Gorosei’s trust, Sengoku will never be Fleet Admiral. And I won’t be heading to the Holy Land as Commander-in-Chief.”
It hit Garp like a hammer.
The guilt was a crushing wave, driving him two steps back, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
“Kong… old man…”
Kong smiled faintly, unconcerned.
“It doesn’t matter. I was never too interested in being Commander-in-Chief.”
“Sengoku has no complaints either.”
“So now do you understand, Garp?”
“Whether it’s Fleet Admiral or Commander-in-Chief, if there were even the faintest chance to save Dragon, neither of us would give up.”
“But the reality is… it’s too difficult.”
“Your son… he’s made an irreversible mistake.”
Garp fell silent, his eyes unfocused, as if all the warmth and color of the world had drained away, leaving only a numbing cold and emptiness.
“So… that foolish boy… there’s really no saving him?”
“With Sakazuki and Borsalino already gone…”
He muttered, voice hoarse.
Sakazuki had never seen eye to eye with Dragon—he’d show no mercy.
And Borsalino… that man was impossible to read.
With those two together… no matter how strong Dragon was, there was no way he’d survive.
“No!”
He clenched his fists, but before he could act, Kong’s sharp bark cut him off.
“What are you thinking of doing!?”
Garp’s face twisted, teeth grinding.
“Kong… I owe you everything. But Dragon is still my son!”
“No matter what, I have to try to save him!”
“I know your position is complicated. I know Sengoku’s hands are tied. But—”
He grabbed at the Marine cloak on his shoulders, twisting it in his fists.
“This uniform… I’ll—”
Bang!
A massive fist slammed into him, sending him flying back and crashing into the wall.
Garp stared in shock, head spinning, a thin line of blood trickling down his forehead.
“Fool!!” Kong roared, eyes blazing.
“When I said it’s too difficult, I didn’t say it’s impossible!!”
Garp blinked, stunned.
“But… Sakazuki and Borsalino—”
“Do you even realize why Sengoku’s first order was to send Darren!?”
Kong rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath.
Garp froze.
In that moment, something clicked, the bloodshot darkness of his eyes flickering with a sudden light of understanding.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 256: Chapter 158: Comrades or Enemies
Summary:
“When loyalty and love stand opposed, the weight of each choice can crush a man’s soul.”
Chapter Text
“Be patient, Garp.”
Kong let out a sigh as he watched Garp, who, although a bit calmer now, was still anxiously pacing back and forth.
Garp froze mid-step, then asked with burning urgency:
“Old man Kong, do you really think Darren can get there before Sakazuki and Borsalino?”
If… if Sakazuki finds Dragon first, the situation will spiral out of control.
Kong did not seem worried.
A steady and resolute calm emanated from his brow.
He pondered for a moment, then met Garp’s expectant gaze, slowly shaking his head. In a low, hoarse voice, he said:
“That boy Darren knows the situation in the North Blue far better than any of us.”
“True, Sakazuki and Borsalino both once served in the North Blue, but don’t forget—Darren is the true ‘King of the North Blue’, holding ultimate sway over those seas.”
“He won’t let you down.”
Hearing Kong’s confident assessment, Garp finally exhaled a long breath.
“That’s good… that’s good.”
He murmured those words again and again.
When it came to the life of his own son, he no longer looked like the brash, hot-blooded Marine hero of old. Instead, he seemed cautious, uneasy.
“But… are you prepared?”
Kong’s sudden question caught Garp off guard.
Garp blinked, uncomprehending, and looked back at Kong, meeting the other man’s serious gaze.
“From this day on, your son will become the greatest enemy of the World Government… and of our Marines.”
“No… Dragon has a strong sense of justice. He’d never turn against the Marines…”
“That has nothing to do with his personal convictions!”
Kong cut him off coldly:
“From the moment he killed that Celestial Dragon, he was fated to walk a path of no return!”
“He will inevitably stand in opposition to the World Government—and to us.”
“Make no mistake—even without his overwhelming strength and talent, Dragon knows too much about the inner workings of the Marines and the Government.”
“He’s intimately familiar with our personnel, our combat strength, fleet deployments, base layouts, intelligence networks—even the encryption methods of our den den mushi.”
“And now, with his ‘defection’ an inescapable fact, I fear the World Government will place an unprecedented bounty on his head.”
“Your son will become the ‘most heinous criminal’ in this world.”
“So, Garp—are you ready to face that?”
Kong’s relentless questioning caused Garp’s face to pale slightly.
His own son… would become his enemy…?
This thought echoed through Garp’s mind like a nightmare.
He stood rooted in place, his expression twisted in an intense struggle. At last, he drew in a deep breath, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth:
“I… I’m ready, Fleet Admiral.”
“Good.”
Kong smiled in satisfaction.
He reached out and picked up the military transponder snail before him, dialing a specific signal.
“Puru-puru… puru-puru…”
As the snail began to ring, Kong rose from his seat and walked toward the door.
As he brushed past Garp, he paused for just a moment, lifting a hand to gently pat the other man’s shoulder. In a low voice, he said:
“Now, think about the final words you want to say to Dragon. Darren will pass them on for you.”
With that, Kong strode out of the office, leaving Garp alone with his final farewell.
“Gacha!”
At that moment, the transponder snail connection was established.
“Fleet Admiral Kong, it’s Darren.”
A low, steady voice came through, accompanied by the faint, ominous roar of wind.
Garp stared at the snail in a daze, then forced himself to take a step forward.
One step at a time, he approached.
“Darren, it’s me.”
He rasped.
There was a momentary pause on the other end. One second later, Darren’s voice came again—this time, the background wind was gone. All was quiet and solemn:
“Vice Admiral Garp, I’m listening.”
Garp’s lips trembled, his gaze blank as murky tears spilled from the corners of his eyes.
Suddenly, he bared his teeth in a twisted grin:
“Tell that boy… to stay alive.”
———
Dragon’s hands were trembling.
Even though half a day had already passed since the incident, those blood-streaked hands… still would not stop shaking.
The once-proud Marine uniform and coat he had worn had long been abandoned. In their place, he now wore a hooded military green cloak, large enough to cover most of his face.
He forced himself to recall the reconnaissance and counter-surveillance skills he had learned at the Marine Academy, doing his best to wipe away any trace of his presence as he quietly slipped aboard an unremarkable merchant ship bound for this island.
Staying in these waters any longer was no longer an option.
With the vast power of the World Government, it was only a matter of time before they found his trail.
As a former core officer of Marine Headquarters, with his unique status and background, Dragon understood all too well the hounds the World Government would send after him.
Those brutal, merciless beasts—their dog noses were far too keen.
He had to find a way to reach the Grand Line—perhaps even the New World!
Only in that boundless, chaotic sea could he snatch a fleeting breath between endless hunts… and perhaps find the faintest glimmer of survival.
His thoughts were in turmoil, a tangled snarl of confusion.
Walking along a bustling commercial street, Dragon felt disoriented and adrift.
The noise, the liveliness, the press of the crowds—it all felt alien to him.
Instinctively, he tightened the coat around him, as if even the pale sunlight overhead was too much to bear.
He still remembered the stench of blood.
The reek of sweat, cheap liquor, and gunpowder, mixed with the cacophony of screams, shattering glass, weeping, and maniacal laughter.
He remembered that moment not long ago—when, in a single instant of searing fury, he had lost all control.
There had been no gap between his decision and his action.
And so the outcome had been set.
That repulsive face had gone from arrogant and domineering to terrified and pleading in a heartbeat—before his head had burst like a watermelon right before Dragon’s eyes.
What did that feel like?
Dragon didn’t know.
He licked his chapped lips and pulled his hood tighter, then slipped into a small, nondescript tavern by the roadside, lowering his voice to order a bottle of liquor from the barkeep.
He sat down at a table under the shade of a tree.
“Drinking alone?”
The barkeep quickly brought over the bottle with a cheerful smile, not finding it odd that this customer was wearing a hooded coat in the summer heat.
Dragon started to nod—then, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself saying:
“Two cups, please. Thank you.”
The barkeep smiled and set down two glasses, then turned away.
Dragon sat there, silently staring at the dark green liquor before him.
He didn’t drink.
It was as if he were waiting for something.
For someone.
Perhaps just to say a single word. Perhaps just to say a final goodbye.
It didn’t matter who.
He waited patiently.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Half an hour…
He sat in the shade, restless and anxious, feeling as if the world had been split by some invisible curtain that shut him off from the people bustling by on the street.
A full hour passed.
At last, a voice suddenly spoke in front of him.
“The strongest drinks are never meant to be drunk alone.”
Dragon exhaled slowly, his relief plain.
This hour had felt to him like waiting for fate itself to reveal its answer.
And now… that answer had arrived.
“I didn’t expect the first Marine to come looking for me would be you.”
He lifted his head and looked at the man across the table, who was casually raising that bottle of sherry. A genuine smile spread across Dragon’s face, his eyes shimmering with a faint red glow.
Darren poured the liquor into both glasses, then looked up to meet Dragon’s gaze. With a soft smile, he said:
“The North Blue is my territory, after all.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 257: Chapter 159: The Claws That Shatter Tyranny
Summary:
“Sometimes it takes a single act of defiance to shatter the chains of cruelty.”
Chapter Text
“The North Blue is my territory.”
In the shade of the trees, the Marine commodore’s soft smile carried an aura of overwhelming confidence and unshakable dominance.
Hearing those words, Dragon paused, then couldn’t help but laugh.
“Ah, that’s right—I almost forgot. You’re the one they call the ‘King of the North Blue’.”
He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, but the moment he saw Darren standing before him, all the restlessness and confusion in his heart seemed to vanish.
As though in that instant—facing death or the abyss of despair—the sudden appearance of a true friend had brought a deep sense of relief and calm.
Looking at the man across from him, weary from travel and with fatigue still clinging to his face, Dragon found himself wondering just how far Darren must have come to arrive before anyone else.
And so, his smile grew even brighter.
The shadows of the trees shifted in the damp breeze, sunlight scattering dappled light and shadow across the ground.
For a time, the two of them sat in silence across the small table, their stillness a striking contrast to the bustle, noise, and crowded flow of the street beyond.
“Quit grinning like an idiot.”
Darren’s voice broke the silence abruptly, half-exasperated.
He pushed the brimming cup of liquor closer to Dragon.
Then he took up his own cup, sipping lightly to ease the dryness and exhaustion of the long journey.
“You shouldn’t have acted so impulsively.”
Dragon’s smile immediately faded.
Seeing this, Darren let out a long sigh.
“One of us had to bring it up eventually.”
Dragon fell silent for a moment. He pursed his lips, lowering his gaze to his bloodstained hands resting on the table. In a low voice, he said:
“I couldn’t control myself at the time.”
The quiet murmur was soaked with a bitterness he could hardly put into words.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s very bad.”
Darren didn’t mince his words as he shook his head.
“Vice Admiral Garp has already been ordered to remain at Headquarters. Marineford’s port is completely sealed.”
“The high command has issued a kill order—if they must, they’ll have you executed on sight.”
“Besides me, Sakazuki and Borsalino have already set out. It won’t be long before they find this place.”
Boom!
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
A gust of wind swept down the street, and dark clouds gathered in the sky above.
Fallen leaves tumbled in the wind, and the steps of the passersby grew quick and urgent.
The light dimmed, and the sky turned ominous.
The rain… was coming.
Dragon’s parched lips pressed into a tight line.
Darren showed no impatience. He simply waited quietly.
“It was just a child.”
After a long moment, Dragon finally spoke, his voice hoarse.
It was a low voice, carrying a blend of grief and helpless fury that echoed against the crowded street’s hurried corners.
“His kite had accidentally fallen on a Celestial Dragon’s mount, and the string had nicked the edge of that monster’s robe.”
“It was nothing—just a tiny tear at the corner. Something that should have ended with a quick apology and compensation. But the Celestial Dragon demanded the child’s life.”
“The boy’s parents knelt on the ground, begging in agony. They smashed their heads against the pavement until they were bleeding everywhere.”
“But it did no good.”
“I happened to be there.”
“Though I’d never seen a Celestial Dragon up close before, I’d heard all the rumors of their cruelty. Even so, I couldn’t quite believe it—how bad could a person truly be?”
“So I stepped forward. I revealed my identity and offered to apologize on the boy’s behalf.”
“To me, it was such a trivial matter—at least, that’s what I thought.”
“But I was wrong. So very wrong.”
“I underestimated their evil. I never imagined there were truly devils in this world.”
Here, Dragon let out a faint, almost self-mocking laugh.
“When that Celestial Dragon heard who I was, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he flew into a rage and grinned, ordering that the entire family be slaughtered.”
“Darren… I don’t understand.”
He lifted his empty gaze to meet Darren’s.
“Why… why would he demand their lives for something so small?”
Darren said nothing.
He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out and lighting it.
All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
That was how the world worked.
Yet in the face of those “supreme” Celestial Dragons, all unhappy families seemed to meet the same fate.
“For some people, causing pain—even taking lives—is nothing more than a demonstration of their power.”
Darren’s calm eyes met Dragon’s through the drifting smoke as he spoke softly:
“And so you killed him.”
Dragon nodded with effort.
“Yes. I killed him.”
“It was the only way to end it.”
Even now, the terror of having killed a Celestial Dragon still clung to him. His face shifted uneasily, his breath coming faster.
“I didn’t let myself hesitate—not even for a second. Because I knew if I paused, I’d lose my courage.”
“In that moment, my mind went completely blank. My chest felt like it was going to explode if I didn’t act.”
“…And when I came to, everything around me was chaos.”
“People screaming, people running, some fainting dead away… and that so-called ‘god’—his head crushed to pulp by my hand.”
“It was so easy… like crushing a watermelon. I could hardly believe it myself—that even a Celestial Dragon could die.”
He didn’t know if the laugh that escaped him was scornful or simply dazed.
“Turns out gods can die too.”
“But you know what, Darren? Before I struck… I was terrified.”
“Truly… terrified.”
“I knew I was a Marine. I wasn’t allowed to touch a Celestial Dragon.”
“I knew that once I did it, everything I had would be gone.”
Darren raised an eyebrow.
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
Dragon’s mouth curved into a smile.
“Because in that instant, when I crushed that bastard’s skull, everything in me became crystal clear.”
“With the spray of his blood, a rush of fierce, unstoppable exhilaration surged into my mind.”
“That feeling… it was overwhelming. Liberating. Do you understand, Darren?”
Darren paused a moment, then said quietly:
“I understand.”
“No! You don’t understand!”
Dragon cut him off sharply.
“And I hope you never do.”
Darren thought to himself—I actually do understand.
But before he could say it aloud, Dragon suddenly raised his bloodstained right hand.
His five fingers bent slightly.
His middle and index fingers pressed together, while his ring and little fingers folded in unison—forming the three-finger claw.
“Do you remember this move?”
Darren nodded.
“Dragon Claw Fist.”
Dragon’s eyes lit up, and he laughed.
“That’s right—Dragon Claw Fist!”
“It was your offhand comment that inspired me to create this technique.”
“But did you know? Ever since that day, I’ve been trying to find a way to unlock its true power. No matter how I trained, it always felt like something was missing…”
“But in that moment, as I struck down that Celestial Dragon… I finally found what the Dragon Claw had been missing all along.”
He drew in a deep breath.
“It’s soul.”
“It’s will.”
“The Dragon Claw Fist isn’t just about the force of your fingers. It’s about the true force of the ‘claw’ itself.”
“This… is a claw forged to shatter the tyranny of brute power!”
As his words fell, a peal of thunder split the sky overhead.
A flash of white lightning illuminated the dark clouds for an instant.
In the glint of that lightning, the Dragon Claw—shrouded in black Armament Haki—gleamed with a cold, unstoppable might.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 258: Chapter 160: I Don’t Blame Them
Summary:
“A world that forces the innocent to kneel… is a world that must be shattered.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“How about it? Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”
Dragon tried to beam at Darren, his smile bright and easy, as if to chase away the gloom.
But he failed.
In that smile was only grief and a flicker of loss.
Under the flickering lightning in the sky, it looked desolate.
Darren noticed this at once, frowning slightly. Suddenly, he asked:
“This story… it’s not over yet, is it?”
Dragon forced a smile.
“No… this story isn’t finished.”
He hadn’t said everything yet.
The wind that always comes before a storm swept through the street, rustling up leaves and swirling them high.
It caught Dragon’s hood, blowing it back from his face.
Darren’s pupils narrowed.
Dragon didn’t look much different—high-bridged nose, deep eyes, clear, defined features, black hair disheveled.
Only now he wore a new scar.
It cut across the left side of his face in a splatter pattern, flesh ragged, the burn of gunpowder seared into it.
“A bullet wound.”
Darren’s expression darkened.
And then—
“It’s him!!”
“He’s the criminal just wanted by the World Government!”
“Monkey D. Dragon!!”
“What’s he doing here!?”
“Shit!! Don’t move!!”
“Alert the Marines!!”
“……”
A chorus of terror, anger, hesitation, and fear rose from the street.
As Dragon’s hood was swept away, the passersby recognized him in an instant.
The street fell into chaos.
Parents clutched their children, faces pale, and fled.
Some, eyes glittering with greed, lifted trembling pistols and aimed them at Dragon.
Others scrambled to the phone booths and shops’ Den Den Mushi to call the Marines—only to find every line dead, no signals at all.
In the midst of it all, Dragon sat unmoved, his eyes calm, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at Darren.
“So that’s how it is. I understand now.”
Darren’s eyes flickered. His fists clenched, a faint arc of electricity dancing across his skin.
“With your strength, if you’d been ready for it, not even a CP agent with a Seastone bullet could have injured you. So there’s only one explanation…”
“Yes…”
Dragon’s smile was a little tragic as he finished the story.
“After I killed that Celestial Dragon, I easily dealt with the few CP guards around him.”
“But when I turned around… I saw something I couldn’t believe.”
“Civilians running in terror. Some dialing frantically for the Marines. Some collapsing in tears. But that wasn’t what mattered most.”
Dragon paused here, finally picking up his cup and drinking deeply, only to cough violently, face flushing.
He took a shaky breath.
“The parents of the boy I saved… they were trembling in fear. And they picked up a fallen CP agent’s pistol…”
His smile twisted, a hint of bitter absurdity.
“And they aimed it at me.”
It was as if something snapped in the air around them.
Silence fell.
Boom!
A jagged bolt of lightning split the night sky, the thunder shaking the earth.
“Just like now.”
Darren’s gaze swept over the crowd, his expression cold.
They watched, they coveted, they trembled.
Some were already running away. Others were lifting their guns.
But faced with the Marine commodore’s cold stare, those who had been ready to shoot threw down their weapons and fled in a panic.
“I don’t understand, Darren… I was standing up for them. I was protecting them. They shouldn’t fear me…”
Dragon’s eyes were rimmed red, confusion clouding his features.
“I was doing the right thing. I’m a Marine of justice.”
Darren took a slow drag from his cigarette and said softly:
“Yes. A good man is always the one staring down the barrel of a gun.”
Dragon’s voice dropped to a whisper:
“They kept saying ‘I’m sorry’ over and over. I tried to calm them down…”
“But in the end, they still pulled the trigger.”
Darren spoke quietly.
Dragon hesitated a moment.
“Yes.”
“Because you weren’t ready. And because you didn’t expect them to actually shoot.”
“Yes.”
“You know why they did it?”
“I do. They didn’t want to die.”
Darren let out a cold, short laugh.
Yes. They didn’t want to die.
Dragon had killed a Celestial Dragon, and as witnesses, the only way they might live was by killing Dragon—to atone for the crime.
Even if he’d done it to save them.
The world… what a cruel joke.
Dragon exhaled a long breath, then laughed softly.
This time, there was something easy in that laugh. Something resigned.
“I don’t blame them.”
“I know… they’re just ordinary people. They have their lives, their families. They just want to live in peace, to finish out their days quietly. What they did… it was to protect themselves, to protect those they love.”
“I don’t blame them. They did what they had to. They even said they were sorry.”
“But when the bullet hit me… I understood something.”
“All these countless souls who kneel before the Celestial Dragons—they’re not kneeling to power. They’re kneeling to this wretched, rotting world.”
“A world built on decay, on petty cruelties and selfish hearts… the Celestial Dragons are just the monsters born of that corruption.”
As he spoke, Dragon’s eyes drifted to a corner of the street.
Darren followed his gaze.
There, a woman sat on the muddy, filthy roadside. Her face was gaunt, skin pale from hunger, clothes in tatters.
In her arms, she cradled a bundle of rags—a child.
Barely five meters away, an opulent restaurant gleamed in the lamplight.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the chaos had driven the diners away.
Left behind were table after table of steaming, extravagant dishes.
Dragon looked at the food, then back at the woman clutching her child, and his lips tightened. In a low voice, he said:
“Do you see it, Darren?”
“This… is the truth of the world.”
“The Celestial Dragons live in obscene luxury. They demand tribute, bleeding the allied nations dry.”
“The kings and nobles of those nations bleed the merchants and the landowners… who in turn bleed the common folk.”
“Countless souls trapped at the bottom—starving, some forced to beg, some to steal, some to sell themselves… but most of them? They become pirates.”
“These poor, pitiful people… they’ve spent everything they have just to keep living.”
Dragon laughed again, softly.
“So no, I don’t blame them for pointing a gun at me.”
“I understand… they’ll side with whoever wins. I just haven’t really won yet.”
This time, Darren saw it clearly.
There was no sorrow or disappointment left in Dragon’s smile.
Only calm acceptance—and a flicker of guilt buried deep in his eyes.
“Not just them. Everything we see around us—this hunger, this fear, this endless struggle… it’s the future of the world. In a world of survival of the fittest, happiness never lingers.”
Dragon’s gaze turned solemn as he met Darren’s eyes, each word deliberate:
“One day, I will change this world.”
Hearing those words, Darren couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
In his mind, he saw flashes of Dragon drunkenly arguing in his yard, just months ago.
But now… Dragon’s face had aged. In just two short months, the bright-eyed, impulsive young officer had vanished—replaced by a man who had seen the world’s rot and faced it without flinching.
He was a real man now.
But.
He would still walk the path he had chosen.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Author’s Note:
Most fanfics only write about Dragon the revolutionary, but I wanted to write the story of who he was before he became a revolutionary.
The changes in his mindset, the transformation of his spirit… his experiences, his life.
That’s why I chose to start at this point in the timeline.
Because everyone deserves to have their story told.
Please support me in any way you can. Best wishes to all of you.
Chapter 259: Chapter 161: Farewell
Summary:
“Even if the whole world turns against you, walk forward.”
Chapter Text
The street was still in chaos.
Terrified civilians ran for their lives, frantically dialing their Den Den Mushi.
But Darren and Dragon sat there as if nothing else in the world existed—as if the swirling storm and the panicked mob were a thousand miles away.
Thunder rumbled louder and louder, lightning streaking across the sky as dark as midnight.
Darren gazed calmly at Dragon’s scarred face and asked quietly:
“What do you plan to do?”
Dragon scratched his head, a bit sheepish.
“I don’t know. But first, I have to escape from you… don’t I?”
“The orders you’ve received must be to capture me at all costs—or to kill me where I sit.”
“But if I do find a way out… I want to build something new. A new organization founded on harmony, freedom, equality, and dreams… I’ll need more people to join me.”
He looked at Darren, letting out a wry laugh.
“Originally, I was going to invite you… but then I realized, you’d never agree.”
“The North Blue Fleet. The training camp’s top instructor… all these years of careful planning and your character—there’s no way you’d ever join me.”
Darren gave a small, teasing smile.
“Of course.”
“Sleeping rough, always on the run, never knowing what tomorrow will bring… no women, no cigars, no good liquor—I’d never survive that life.”
The two of them shared a smile.
So much said in that one glance.
Another long silence.
Darren smoked his last cigarette down to the filter.
He ground it out and suddenly said:
“Dragon, this path you’ve chosen—it’s a hard one.”
“I know.”
“No one will understand you.”
“I know.”
“Even the people you’re trying to protect… they’ll fear you. They’ll hate you. They might even shoot you in the back someday and turn you over to the World Government.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Dragon’s smile was bright—truly bright this time.
It was the smile of a man who had set down the weight of his heart, ready to face both the bitter truth of the world and the unreachable ideal he carried.
“Darren, this world needs a complete change.”
“I know they’re just afraid, and that fear will always be there. But I can’t let the fear and weakness of the people stop the revolution.”
Darren gave a small laugh.
“Sounds like you’ve already made your peace with it.”
Dragon nodded.
Darren’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction.
“Good. Before you begin… Vice Admiral Garp asked me to pass on a message.”
Dragon blinked.
“He wanted me to tell you—”
Darren repeated the words slowly, every syllable measured:
“—‘Stay alive.’”
Dragon looked as if he’d been struck by lightning.
“Damn it…”
His eyes turned visibly red. He buried his face in his hands, his voice rough and choked:
“Damn it… I’m sorry. I’ve caused so much trouble for the old man… for everyone… for you…”
Tears slipped through his fingers, and he bit down hard on his teeth.
“Damn it… I always wanted to be a hero like the old man… but now I’m nothing but a fugitive, wanted by the entire world.”
Darren let out a long breath.
“Dragon… do you know what a hero truly is?”
Dragon hesitated, raising his head to look at Darren. Instinctively, he said:
“A hero is someone strong enough to protect the weak, to uphold justice.”
Darren shook his head.
“No. Strength matters, sure. But a hero… is a flag.”
“A flag?”
“Yes. The common people are too weak, and the powers they face are too strong. They might want to fight back—but they don’t have the will. So… they need a flag.”
Darren’s smile was faint, his eyes bright and unwavering.
“To guide the lost, to give the timid courage, to plant belief in the hesitant… like a blazing beacon in the darkness, lighting a spark in every buried heart, driving them forward without fear.”
“That is the true meaning of a hero.”
“In my eyes, Dragon… right now, you’re more of a hero than Vice Admiral Garp ever was.”
“Because you did what none of us dared to do.”
He pointed at Dragon, his tone grave and full of meaning.
“You killed a Celestial Dragon in front of the whole world.”
“You shattered the myth of this world—dragged those so-called ‘gods’ down from their throne.”
A faint smile flickered across Dragon’s face at those words. But just as quickly, it faded again, leaving only a bleak sorrow.
“But I couldn’t protect them.”
After the incident, he had fled that island.
He had heard what happened afterward:
The World Government’s agents scoured the island.
The boy with the kite, and his parents… tortured so mercilessly in the search, and in the end, they hadn’t survived.
“Regret is the constant of this world. You can’t protect everyone—but you must keep going, Dragon.”
Darren’s smile was soft.
At his words, Dragon unconsciously straightened his back. His tired smile held a hint of melancholy… and a quiet pride.
Boom!
Another bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the world for a breath.
In the howling wind, streaks of black rain spread across the ground like ink.
Drip, drip, drip…
The first fat drops of rain fell. And then, in an instant, it was a downpour.
The storm had come.
Darren suddenly murmured, almost to himself:
“Time’s just about up.”
Dragon didn’t hear him. He sat there in the deluge, letting the cold rain wash over his face and hair. He murmured:
“Even the sky is weeping for this world?”
“No. The sky… is saying goodbye to you.”
Darren raised his cup with a smile.
Dragon blinked. Then he smiled too.
He raised his cup in turn.
Two cups, filled with the “strongest drink,” clinked together in midair, the amber liquid shimmering with the light of parting and of journeys to come.
They downed it all in one.
Dragon rose to his feet in a single, fluid motion. There was no more doubt in his eyes—only the unwavering conviction of a man with no way back.
His black hair whipped in the wind, lightning casting his silhouette in stark relief.
From this day forward,
Those who once fought at his side would become his enemies.
The colossal power that ruled the world was his enemy.
The decaying old order was his enemy.
Even the ignorance in people’s hearts… that was his enemy.
The world was drenched in rain. The path ahead was heavy, shrouded in darkness.
But he would walk it alone.
The whole world an enemy.
And yet he laughed—loud and bold.
“Bring it on!!”
Darren rose slowly, lifting his hand and tearing away the green cloak that had concealed his face and hidden his identity.
Revealing his black suit and the pure white justice coat.
Before the eyes of the world, his cold voice cut through the storm, through the lightning and thunder, and rang out across the island.
“Criminal Monkey D. Dragon! I, Rogers Darren, Marine Headquarters commodore… in the name of ‘Justice,’ officially place you under arrest!”
“Surrender now!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 260: Chapter 162: He’s Almost Done—Send Reinforcements!
Summary:
“In a world built on fear and power, even a single clash can shake the heavens.”
Chapter Text
This sudden, explosive clash sent a jolt through the chaotic crowd.
Before they could react,
Darren and Dragon had already moved—striking almost simultaneously.
Their boots crushed the rain-slicked earth as they lunged at each other like two tigers in a deadly pounce.
Their raw force slammed into the table and chairs between them, shattering them into splinters.
A black Dragon Claw and a detonating fist broke through the curtain of rain, meeting in the air with devastating impact.
Bang!
A shockwave rippled out from where their strikes collided, sending a violent sideways rain across the street. The stone tiles of the road heaved like ocean waves.
Windows in taverns, restaurants, and shops burst into shards under the concussive blast. Civilians clutched their heads, screaming and scrambling for cover.
“Hahaha! Your strength… it’s grown so much!!”
Dragon’s eyes were bright with battle-frenzy as he laughed uproariously at the Marine commodore before him.
Darren just gave a small smile, saying nothing.
He stepped in closer.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
They clashed with blinding speed, fists and claws wrapped in Armament Haki, knees and legs slamming into each other in the driving rain, each impact a bone-deep thud.
Everything in their path—streetlamps, tables, signs, even the very walls—was smashed and sent flying like leaves in a hurricane.
Yet by some unspoken agreement, they fought their way toward deserted parts of the street, careful not to let their duel harm any civilians.
“They’re… they’re really fighting…”
Civilians who had fled to a distance gaped in horror at the buildings collapsing like sandcastles under the force of their battle. They couldn’t believe their eyes.
One of them snapped out of it, gritting his teeth.
“Quick! Keep calling the Den Den Mushi! Tell the Marines to send reinforcements!!”
“If it’s just that one commodore, there’s no way he can win against that monster!”
“That man is a criminal—the one the World Government has declared an enemy of the world!”
At those words, the crowd didn’t hesitate. They fumbled for their Den Den Mushi again.
This time, the line connected!
“It’s working! The storm must have messed with the signals before!”
“Hello! We found… the criminal!! Dragon!!”
“Yes, yes! There’s a Marine here fighting with everything he has to hold him back! Send reinforcements, now!!”
As he spoke, the civilian saw Darren—draped in his justice coat—flung through the air like a cannonball, crashing through two buildings in a spray of blood.
His eyes went wide, heart turning cold with fear. He roared into the Den Den Mushi:
“That Marine—Darren—he’s losing!! He’s coughing up blood! He can’t hold on much longer!!”
“Yes, this is the exact location!!”
“Damn it! Stop wasting time! Get here now!!”
……
At the same moment.
More than a hundred nautical miles away, two Marine battleships labored through the howling wind and sheets of rain.
Lightning split the sky.
A young Marine in a raincoat burst into the cabin, trembling, saluting with a shaky hand.
“Rear Admiral… Rear Admiral Sakazuki! Rear Admiral Borsalino! We found them!!!”
Sakazuki, who’d been hunched over a navigation chart under the glow of an oil lamp, went stiff and shot to his feet.
“Where?”
Borsalino pushed his sunglasses up his nose, a faintly amused smile on his lips.
“Here… here it is!”
The young Marine pointed at an island marked on the map, swallowing hard.
“Eyewitnesses on the island report that Commodore Darren is engaged in a fierce battle with the target. He’s seriously injured and being pushed back. He… he might not last much longer!”
Sakazuki’s face went dark as thunderclouds.
“Damn that Dragon…”
His clenched fist glowed red-hot, black smoke curling from it.
“Borsalino!”
He turned, cold eyes fixed on Borsalino.
The latter raised his hands, shrugging with an almost playful nonchalance.
“Got it, got it… I’ll head over first, then.”
Sakazuki’s voice was rough as he ground out his orders:
“You must hold Dragon back—no matter what. Don’t let him escape!”
“…I’ll be right behind you.”
Borsalino strolled toward the deck, muttering to himself.
“I can only promise to try my best. After all, you know as well as I do… that guy isn’t so easy to handle.”
“He’s Zephyr-sensei’s student… and Vice Admiral Garp’s son.”
With those words, his form shimmered and split apart into countless golden photons, rising into the storm-wracked sky and vanishing in a flash of light.
“I know…”
Sakazuki watched the last glimmer of gold fade, his gaze shadowed.
He and Dragon had always clashed—again and again, their differing visions of justice erupting into all-out fights. He knew exactly how strong Dragon was.
He also knew the unspoken weight in Borsalino’s final words:
‘Are you sure you really want to face Dragon? Not even counting his power—he’s still Zephyr-sensei’s student… and Garp’s son.’
Sakazuki was silent for a few seconds. His face blank, he picked up his peaked Marine cap from the table and pulled it low over his eyes.
His clenched fists trembled.
“Set sail!”
……
Boom!
Darren emerged from the rubble of a shattered building, spitting out blood.
“Damn… that’s intense.”
He narrowed his eyes, wiping the blood from his lips as he looked at Dragon, who stood across from him, burning with battle spirit.
“You… you really do get carried away in a fight, don’t you…”
His mouth twitched.
“Hahaha!! Darren, how about that!! That last move—it was the ultimate strike of the Dragon Claw Fist!!”
Dragon threw back his head, laughing with savage pride.
“Channeling the claw’s power—unleashing it all in an instant, like the breath of a dragon!”
“How about it!? Ready to try another one!? I’ve been dreaming of having a real fight like this with you!!”
As he spoke,
Dragon raised his arm, palm open. A storm of emerald-green wind gathered there, whirling faster and faster until it howled like a blade, cutting the air itself.
It grew and grew, a towering column of wind thirty meters tall.
Even nearby buildings, only touched by its edges, were ripped from their foundations and sucked into the spinning maelstrom, shredded to dust in an instant.
Watching the terrifying sight, Darren’s eye twitched wildly.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 261: Chapter 163: “You Can’t Even Use a Sword!”
Summary:
“Strength without restraint… is a storm that spares nothing.”
Chapter Text
Whoa, whoa, whoa—are you serious right now?
This idiot!
Seeing the colossal green hurricane in Dragon’s hand continuing to swell and churn, Darren’s eye twitched, and he couldn’t help but curse under his breath.
“Hahaha!! Come on!!”
The towering wind column had reached its limit, and Dragon, roaring with laughter, took a single step forward, hurling the monstrous green tempest straight at Darren!
Hurricane Roar!
The massive storm surged forth, no longer contained in Dragon’s palm. It erupted with shocking speed, the spinning vortex of wind howling and accelerating.
Buildings lining the street—three or four stories tall—were devoured in an instant, ground to dust in the maelstrom’s teeth.
The howling wind tore everything in its path to shreds, the earth itself heaving like ocean waves as signposts, streetlights, and bricks were sucked up and hurled skyward in a violent rain of debris.
A storm like a natural disaster itself—rushing forward to consume all!
Crack, crack, crack…
Even though the hurricane was still dozens of meters away, Darren felt an overwhelming pressure. He could barely keep his feet, as if at any moment he’d be swept away.
The ground beneath his boots cracked open, spiderweb fissures splitting across the stones.
“What a madman…”
Seeing this insane display of destruction, Darren couldn’t help but laugh—a fierce, wild grin flickering on his lips.
But his eyes burned with the heat of battle, a flame that rose ever higher.
A smirk curved his mouth with defiant pride.
How strong was Dragon, really?
An Admiral-level monster?
Darren didn’t know.
But he was sure of one thing—if Dragon hadn’t already reached that level, then he was the man closest to it in all these seas.
Trained by two Marine legends, Zephyr and Garp. A genius whose Dragon Claw Fist was already terrifying. And now… the wielder of a top-tier Logia Devil Fruit.
From everything Darren had seen—having once fought side by side with Dragon and Sakazuki—he knew Dragon’s strength was at least a match for Sakazuki’s… maybe even stronger.
And as for his own strength?
Darren didn’t know that either.
Maybe…
As he looked up at the hurricane hurtling toward him, his grin only grew wider, the rain-lashed black hair whipping across eyes that gleamed with unwavering resolve.
“Now’s the time to find out.”
Suddenly, he lifted his arm.
A cold, black light howled out of nowhere, coming to a halt in front of him.
A dark hilt. A blade etched with ghostly, flickering patterns—Enma.
The instant Enma appeared, the air around them seemed to freeze, gripped by a bone-deep chill that stilled even the howling rain.
“Alright then… I’m counting on you.”
A glint of red madness flickered in Darren’s eyes as he gripped Enma’s hilt.
The rain fell in torrents.
The storm loomed, so vast it seemed to swallow the sky.
In that moment.
Visible to the naked eye—
Strands of violet-black light began to flow silently from the heart of the maelstrom, like ghostly fireflies, drawn from deep within Darren himself.
They swirled and twisted, weaving into one another—a gathering tide of Armament Haki that wrapped around Enma’s blade in a deadly dance.
“Ahhh…”
A low, animalistic growl rumbled from Darren’s throat. Veins bulged along his muscular arms, twisted like writhing centipedes.
In that instant, gripping Enma in one hand, he stood like a warrior defying the storm itself.
Enma, like a ravenous beast, devoured his Haki, exhaling an eerie, visible mist that churned around the blade like a living thing.
Not even the hurricane could breach that aura.
Like a ghostly, raging inferno.
“A demon blade…!”
Far off, Dragon’s eyes widened.
“Darren—what the hell are you doing!? You don’t even know how to use a sword!!”
His voice cracked with disbelief.
The sheer volume of Haki that blade was swallowing—even he felt a chill crawl up his spine.
But what left him truly speechless… was that Darren had never trained with a sword. And here he was, drawing a cursed blade and pouring everything into it. What was he thinking!?
Was he just planning to swing it like a club!?
“Who says you need to know swordsmanship to wield a sword?”
Darren’s head was lowered, as if he were fighting to endure some excruciating pain.
Then he lifted it, wild red eyes blazing like a predator’s.
He let go of Enma’s hilt.
Straightened, head held high, his justice coat billowing behind him.
“Shoot it, Enma.”
As he spoke, Dragon’s pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Boom!!
The swirling magnetic field around Darren’s body exploded outward, propelling the black demon blade forward like a bullet.
The impact sent an orange-red electromagnetic shockwave surging outward, Enma’s speed instantly reaching its peak.
In Dragon’s stunned eyes,
Enma roared through the air, wreathed in those violet-black streams of energy, burying itself in the heart of the hurricane.
Piercing the core—
The clash only lasted an instant. The massive hurricane shattered, the air erupting in a tidal wave of force that reduced every building within a kilometer to rubble.
The eye of the storm—
Enma’s strike had driven straight into the storm’s weakest, most vital point, carving it apart like a surgeon’s blade and snuffing it out in a single instant.
Then—
Whoosh!
Enma became a streak of razor-edged black light, vanishing across a hundred meters in the blink of an eye.
Dragon’s eyelids twitched, his Observation Haki flaring to its limit. He thrust out his clawed hand.
“Dragon Claw!!”
Clang!!
The impact rang out like a meteor strike, a wave of power smashing outward in every direction.
Enma’s blade was caught in Dragon’s three-fingered claw, sparks cascading like a shower of stars.
A single drop of sweat slid down Dragon’s forehead.
Then his pupils shrank, seeing something impossible.
A hair-thin line—
Emerging from nowhere, tracing out from where Darren stood to a dozen buildings ahead.
If anyone had been watching from above, they would have seen something chilling.
From where Darren had swung, a fan-shaped swath of the island—
Everything within it, over a kilometer wide—
Split cleanly down the middle.
As if sliced by invisible wires, each building cut in two.
The cuts…
Smooth as a mirror.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 262: Chapter 164: Don’t Look Back
Summary:
“True power does not hesitate—even in the face of ruin.”
Chapter Text
Rumble, rumble…
The upper halves of dozens upon dozens of buildings slowly slid along their smooth, severed edges, toppling down with a chorus of deep rumbles. Dust and smoke billowed into the air.
Dragon’s eyelid twitched again.
Just the shockwave from that blade slicing through the air had cut clean through all those buildings.
Darren’s slash—it felt almost at the level of a master swordsman’s strike!
But unlike the smooth, flowing slashes of true sword masters, Darren’s move was pure speed.
Infuse the blade with Armament Haki to the limit—then unleash a single, explosive surge of power through the demon blade.
“Completely insane!”
Dragon could feel blood seeping from his palm, where he gripped Enma. A raw, burning pain. He cursed aloud.
Who the hell used a sword like this!?
It was crude, like throwing a cannonball by hand!
“My turn.”
But just as Dragon was caught up in his thoughts, a low voice came from behind him.
“Huh?!”
He spun around in shock.
“You—sneak attack—”
Bang!
A black-armored fist, wrapped in thick Haki, exploded across his vision and smashed into his face.
The punch was so strong, Dragon’s cheek rippled like water.
Boom!!
He was hurled back like he’d been struck by a battleship at full speed, smashing through half-toppled buildings in a blur of destruction.
Darren’s white justice coat snapped behind him as he landed, knees bending into a crater that split the earth apart.
He launched forward again, using the recoil’s power.
He couldn’t give Dragon a single moment to breathe!
Like a wild beast, he crashed into the crumbling ruins.
A second later—
Two shadowy figures, locked in a furious melee, burst from the rubble.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The distant onlookers watched in shock and horror, hands clamped to their ears. Each collision of these two was a deafening cannon blast.
“Darren, you bastard!! You hit me in the face!!”
Dragon’s body blurred into a whirling cyclone, reappearing ten meters away, rage flashing in his eyes.
He swept a hand out—and a barrage of massive green wind blades screamed forward.
His face was visibly swelling, his nose blue and blood streaming down in twin rivers.
Darren punched one wind blade to pieces, two more carving deep X-shaped gashes across his chest. He lashed out with a brutal Rankyaku.
Slash!
The pale green slicing wave split the ground, but passed harmlessly through Dragon’s intangible form and carved a distant building clean in two.
“Tch, Logia types are such a pain.”
Darren spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes flicking across the increasingly close harbor waters.
He seemed to find what he was looking for. A glimmer of light sparked in his eyes.
Finally…
He threw his head back and let out a wild laugh.
“Come on, Dragon!! Let’s settle this once and for all!!!”
Dragon’s eyes widened, then blazed even brighter.
“Bring it on!!”
But as he spoke, the world around them suddenly twisted and changed.
Steel and iron shot out of the ground and the rubble, coiling together like a nest of black serpents, striking at Dragon from every angle.
“Pointless!! I’m a Logia!!”
Dragon laughed, body once more dissolving into a whirling hurricane.
The steel serpents snapped shut on nothing, only tearing up the earth in their fury.
Then—
A shadowy figure erupted from the swirling dust, moving so fast it was almost a blur.
“Trying to sneak up again!?”
Dragon’s eyes widened, but then he laughed.
“You won’t get me this time!!!”
His hand snapped into a claw, black Haki crackling as he lunged to catch Darren’s fist.
But—
Darren only smiled, lips curled in a bloodstained grin. He stepped in close.
Dragon’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.
He tried to pull back.
Too late.
Shhk!!
Dragon’s claw tore deep into Darren’s chest, leaving a gaping wound that bared white bone.
Blood sprayed hot and thick, splashing across Dragon’s face.
Dragon went rigid.
Why… why didn’t he dodge or block!?
“Don’t look back, my friend.”
A low voice in his ear. Before Dragon could react, he felt Darren’s hand clamp down on his wrist.
The wounded Marine pivoted in the air, turning his whole body into a lever.
And drove a vicious knee straight into Dragon’s gut!
Bang!!
Dragon coughed blood in a thick, ragged spray, his whole body doubling over like a broken doll.
Boom!!
The impact roared out, Darren’s foot and Haki exploding with crushing force that sent Dragon flying.
He shot through the air, white shockwaves rippling out along his path like rings of a cannon shell.
Crashing through several half-shattered buildings, Dragon gasped and winced—
And suddenly the world opened up before him.
The sky.
No—the sea!!
Damn it, Darren… are you really trying to kill me!?
But then he saw it.
A small, unremarkable merchant ship, surging across the water with impossible speed—straight for him.
His eyes widened.
A moment later—
Bang!!
He slammed down hard on the deck, splintering it into a crater.
“Hold on tight, sir.”
The ship’s captain faced away from him, hands steady on the wheel, voice low and calm.
“We’re about to set sail.”
Dragon climbed out of the wrecked deck, gritting his teeth, hand pressed to his side. He looked back instinctively toward the port.
There, kneeling on one knee, covered in blood, was Darren—watching him.
Almost like he was saying goodbye.
“Darren…”
Dragon whispered, eyes glimmering red.
He forced back the urge to wave, to call out. He only wanted to say “Yeah,” but before he could—
A flash of golden light split the black sky above them.
“Can’t let you get away that easily…”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 263: Chapter 165: I Am the Storm
Summary:
“A man’s determination can turn even the wildest storm into a path to freedom.”
Chapter Text
Blinding golden light erupted on the distant horizon, and in that moment, both Dragon and Darren’s pupils narrowed slightly.
That damnable, insufferable voice!
Borsalino!
Darren clenched his teeth, panting, never imagining that this indolent slacker, who was always late, would actually arrive so quickly!
He had already done everything he could to prepare.
From the outset, he had used the power of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit to block the signal of the Transponder Snails on this small island, preventing the civilians from contacting the Marines or the local government. This was not only to buy a final moment for himself and Dragon to say goodbye…
But more crucially, to wait for the arrival of that ship disguised as a “merchant vessel”!
That was why, in the midst of talking and fighting, his gaze repeatedly flickered toward the sea.
Although Dragon’s power was a natural-type hurricane, allowing him to briefly “float” in the air, it was absolutely impossible for him to fly long distances over the boundless ocean.
This was the same limitation shared by Smoker and Crocodile’s natural-type abilities.
They could only transform into elements and move within a certain range, unlike those Devil Fruit users who truly possessed the ability of flight, able to traverse the seas freely over long distances.
In truth, this was a universal limitation of all natural-type Devil Fruit users.
Darren had confirmed this from Musshuru.
Even the Rumble-Rumble Fruit user, who could become lightning and move at the speed of light through space, could not achieve long-distance flight across oceans.
They were confined to the limited range of a single nation or island.
This likely had to do with stamina consumption, though the exact reason was something even Darren wasn’t entirely clear on.
Yet, it was still easy to understand.
If Enel truly could transform into lightning and freely cross vast distances, he would have had no need to build the Ark Maxim, as he could simply traverse the void to reach the endless land.
This also meant that Borsalino was in a similar state!
Relying on his ability to become light, he could move at speeds approaching the speed of light, but he absolutely couldn’t fly over the sea in the same way.
After all, in the original story, no matter how urgent the mission or the crisis, this man always traveled by battleship—a testament in itself.
Because Devil Fruits that could truly grant long-distance flight were even rarer than natural-type Devil Fruits on this vast ocean!
Therefore, if Dragon truly wanted to escape, he couldn’t rely solely on his own abilities—he had to find a ship!
But now…
“Damn it!”
Darren couldn’t help but curse inwardly, clenching his fists.
Countless thoughts flashed through his mind at lightning speed, but he could only watch helplessly as Borsalino’s figure reassembled in the distant sky from countless golden photons.
At this point, he could no longer afford to make a move!
Not when he didn’t fully understand Borsalino’s true stance—he couldn’t guarantee this man wouldn’t stab him in the back!
More importantly, since Borsalino had arrived, it meant that Sakazuki would probably be arriving very soon too.
As these thoughts whirled through his mind, the dazzling golden light suddenly intensified, flaring like a golden sun that briefly illuminated the pitch-black sky.
“Borsalino!!”
Dragon roared, blood staining the corners of his mouth as his long, disheveled black hair danced wildly in the torrential rain.
“Dragon… you’ve done something irreparable. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take you down now…”
Borsalino’s sunglasses reflected Dragon’s figure, and the corners of his mouth curved in a taunting smirk.
He spread his arms wide, his fingers forming a delicate orchid gesture.
The golden light blazed to an unimaginable intensity.
“He’s coming!”
Dragon’s eyes sharpened, and a faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
As former colleagues, he knew better than anyone just how formidable this yellow monkey was.
A sense of unprecedented oppression and mortal peril surged within him, yet Dragon’s gaze burned brighter than at any moment in his life!
“My story is only just beginning. I must turn it into a comedy!!!”
He stepped forward, erupting in wild laughter:
“A new era awaits me! What reason could possibly stop a man from charging into the sea of freedom!?”
Dragon’s eyes turned blood-red as he let out a furious roar, thick veins bulging across his scarred cheeks.
Borsalino’s figure was now completely submerged in endless golden light, though the mocking curve of his lips remained as clear as ever:
“You cannot withstand the storm that’s coming.”
In the next instant,
A barrage of golden light bullets pierced through the heavy rain like a furious tempest, pouring down upon the small boat in a deluge.
Yasakani no Magatama!
“No!”
Dragon stood tall in the storm, laughter ringing out:
“I am the storm!”
He spread his arms wide, raising them high as the dark green cloak on his back suddenly billowed in the wind.
Wind!
A howling gale!
A monstrous tornado-like storm suddenly rose up from the churning sea’s surface, surging with overwhelming force!
Towering waves roared, the sky thundered.
The storm lifted layers upon layers of tsunamis, rising to meet the rain of golden light bullets with apocalyptic fury.
Boom—boom—boom!!
Fiery red explosions erupted one after another within the mountain-like waves, blasting open enormous cavities of seawater that were immediately refilled by the surging ocean.
The searing heat of the light bullets evaporated vast volumes of seawater, cloaking the entire sea in dense, lingering white steam.
Yet it wasn’t over. With Dragon’s furious roar, the unending tempest drove the tsunamis even higher, their relentless fury clawing at Borsalino in the sky.
“Oh?”
Borsalino’s eyes narrowed slightly behind his sunglasses.
“This really is troublesome…”
His figure scattered into countless photons, effortlessly avoiding the surging wave.
His slow, languid voice still echoed in the stormy sky:
“But… are you sure you can withstand the next assault from that man?”
As his words fell,
Darren and Dragon’s breaths caught simultaneously.
Boom!!
A massive warship burst through the thick steam and the crashing waves, surging forward like a blade of ice cleaving the ocean apart.
Its prow rose high, cutting through the darkness, and even the massive anchor’s cold gleam was visible as it dragged a torrent of seawater behind it.
“You won’t escape, Dragon!!”
At the ship’s prow stood a towering figure, an aura of deadly calm radiating from him. His wide cloak billowed behind him like a banner of judgment.
On the black suit over his chest, a single blood-red rose bloomed with chilling malice in the thunderous storm.
Marine Headquarters Rear Admiral—Sakazuki!
---
To be continued…
Chapter 264: Chapter 166: Sailing Toward Dawn
Summary:
“Freedom is not given—it is seized, in defiance of the tempest.”
Chapter Text
The battleship crushed the raging waves beneath its prow, its aura roaring with unstoppable force.
Sakazuki stood immovable at the bow of the ship, his figure towering and steadfast amidst the howling storm. Merely standing there, he exuded an indescribable sense of oppression.
His cold, stern gaze locked onto the small vessel drifting precariously in the tumultuous seas. Beneath his military cap, his eyes were dark and unyielding. A crimson glow began to emanate from his entire right arm.
“The truly troublesome one has arrived...”
Dragon’s face turned pale under the lashing rain, his lips pressed tightly together.
If Borsalino—the inscrutable one—might still be swayed by past camaraderie, then Sakazuki, the man of “Absolute Justice,” would never show even a shred of mercy.
Boom!
A cannonball suddenly fell from the sky but was halted by a swirling vortex of wind, plunging instead into the ocean.
Explosions blossomed beneath the waves, sending towering plumes of seawater surging into the air. The small ship rocked violently, struggling to stay afloat amidst the barrage of waves and cannon fire.
Orange-red flashes of artillery lit up one after another on the distant battleship, the shells whistling ceaselessly through the air.
On the swaying deck, Dragon gripped the mast with white-knuckled fingers.
“Sir, if this keeps up, the ship won’t last much longer!”
The shipmaster’s voice trembled slightly.
“I know!”
Dragon clenched his teeth and let out a low growl.
His eyes stayed fixed on Sakazuki atop the warship, and in that moment, he made a resolute decision.
Don’t look back…
A swirling, dark green hurricane formed visibly in his palm.
“Then let me witness your resolve, Sakazuki…”
Dragon’s bloodshot eyes blazed as he hurled the sphere of wind.
“The ocean is my battlefield!!”
The instant the sphere left his hand, it expanded uncontrollably, swelling into a colossal waterspout that reached from sea to sky.
In this storm-lashed world, the water tornado surged with even greater power, carrying an unstoppable momentum as it advanced toward the warship like a massive, crushing wall.
Heaven-rending, earth-shattering!
“What… what is that?!”
“What a monstrous tornado!!”
“Damn it!! At this scale and speed, the warship can’t possibly dodge it!”
“…”
The faces of the Marines aboard the ship instantly turned ashen, terror gripping their eyes as they watched the towering oceanic tornado engulf the sky and sea. Their bodies shivered uncontrollably.
Witnessing this awe-inspiring spectacle, even Darren’s pupils constricted, a tremor passing through his heart.
In such a climate and setting, the power of Dragon’s Wind-Wind Fruit was at least twice its normal might!
It was no exaggeration to say—this stormy sea was indeed his domain!
“A force of natural disaster… When Fleet Admiral Kong entrusted this Devil Fruit to Dragon, he must have hoped it could counter Whitebeard and Golden Lion’s powers…”
A slow, casual voice suddenly sounded behind Darren.
Darren turned to see Borsalino stroll up beside him, his narrowed eyes flickering.
“You’re not going to help?” he asked.
Borsalino scratched his head with a show of helplessness.
“I really did use my full power, but I couldn’t do anything to him, you see…”
“From here on out, it’s up to Sakazuki. After all, everyone at Marine Headquarters knows—among the Marine’s new generation, only he can stand alongside a genius like Dragon.”
“And besides…”
He pointed at Darren’s battered, bloodied form and sighed.
“I still have to tend to the injured, don’t I?”
“With wounds like yours, if they aren’t treated soon, you might be in mortal danger…”
Darren’s eyes flickered.
He and Borsalino locked gazes and—somehow—both broke into smiles.
“Indeed. We’ve both done everything we can.”
Darren nodded gravely in agreement. Then his pale face twisted as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
“Take care of it for me, Rear Admiral Borsalino.”
The two of them—one standing, one sitting—remained perfectly in place.
Meanwhile, that monstrous ocean tornado descended upon the battleship like the maw of a furious beast, ready to swallow the entire vessel whole.
The storm had arrived!
For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
Through the twisting vortex and crashing waves, Darren caught a glimpse of a crimson figure leaping from the prow of the warship.
And then—
It was as if molten flame erupted in the sea itself.
Or as though magma had burst from within an iceberg.
A blazing red sphere of molten power swelled at the heart of the green hurricane.
In the next moment—
Boom!!
A pillar of surging magma tore through the water tornado, blasting an enormous hole in the roaring seas.
“Die, Dragon!!!”
Sakazuki soared forward like a relentless hellhound, his feet pounding the air as he smashed through the rain and waves, hurtling straight for the small vessel.
“The world’s future is waiting for me!!”
Dragon’s eyes burned as he too leapt up, his arm transforming into a wild, howling hurricane.
The two of them met in midair, their eyes locked in a shared battle fury.
A tattered dark green coat and a snow-white Marine coat billowed in opposite directions.
Above them, the clouds gathered, thunder crackling within them, brewing a storm of apocalyptic power.
Dark red magma surged and swelled, coalescing into a colossal hound of molten rock.
The howling hurricane twisted and roared, forming the shape of a blue-green dragon.
A fist!
A claw!
“Hellhound Crimson Lotus!!”
“Hurricane: Dragon’s Roar!!”
Boom!!
Fist and claw collided!
Their attacks crashed together like meteors striking the earth.
The roaring wind dragon and the infernal hound of magma seized each other’s throats in a death grip!
A mighty shockwave exploded outward from their clash, spreading in every direction.
Dragon’s Devil Fruit power and Sakazuki’s Haki forged two opposing cyclones of dark green and crimson, devouring and grinding into each other.
Molten magma dripped from Sakazuki’s chin as he roared, eyes bloodshot:
“You have betrayed the Marines!!”
Boom!
His magma-infused fist surged forward again, beginning to overpower the dragon’s claw.
Dragon coughed blood, staggering under the crushing force.
In that instant of haze, countless images flashed through his mind.
A little boy flying a kite,
The hateful faces of the Celestial Dragons,
His parents, trembling as they raised a gun,
The faint ache in his face…
Every face, every memory—like a lantern procession—flashed before his eyes, finally coalescing into a single, ancient word:
The People!
In that instant, an indescribable feeling rose from Dragon’s chest, a long-suppressed fury and defiance finally bursting free!
Boom!!!
A surge of profound, boundless aura erupted, the entire island seeming to tremble.
Crack—crack!!
Bolts of black-red lightning snaked through the air.
“Conqueror’s Haki!?”
In Sakazuki’s stunned cry, Dragon laughed and roared:
“But I have never betrayed justice!!!”
His three-fingered dragon claw erupted with astonishing power, like a dragon’s breath.
Sakazuki’s eyes widened in shock, his pupils turning bloodshot.
Bang!!
The molten magma hound exploded. His body was flung backward, crashing onto the deck of the battleship amidst a chorus of horrified Marine cries.
Dragon, too, was knocked back to the small ship, blood at the corner of his lips.
His face was deathly pale, but his eyes shone brighter than ever.
“Hahahaha!! Hoist the sails! Set course!”
He didn’t look back.
With a sudden snap, the merchant ship’s tattered sail unfurled in the wind, lifting like a fledgling eagle and carrying the ship through the storm.
Dragon laughed wildly, snatching a bottle of strong liquor from a smashed crate and drinking deeply.
The searing burn of the alcohol sliced down his throat, his blood-red eyes blazing. Conqueror’s Haki burst from him in an unrestrained torrent, knocking distant Marines to their knees, dizzy and overwhelmed.
Lightning flickered across the night sky, and in the reflection of the bottle, Dragon saw his scarred, battered face.
He grinned.
With three fingers, he clawed across his left cheek, tearing it open and marking his old wound with a new, blood-red cross.
Reborn!
He stood in the raging storm, arms outstretched as rain washed the blood from his skin.
The road ahead was heavy and difficult. There was no one he could speak to.
So he would speak to the world instead!
In his mind, he recalled an ancient ballad from a forgotten tome and raised his voice in song:
“For the will of the people,”
“For the progress of society,”
“Let the fiery liquor of rebellion fill your soul,”
“Farewell for now, my friends,”
“We will create the light, though the night is long,”
“To illuminate this land, to change our lives…”
His voice rose higher and higher, his song growing ever more soaring and resolute. His hands conducted the storm itself.
This rain,
This wind,
It all echoed his laughter and his fury.
The ocean heaved in furious waves,
Driving the little ship onward,
Celebrating his rebirth, his transformation.
The song of freedom echoed across the sea, across the world.
“I will give everything I have,”
“And if I must die for it,”
“I will be the first,”
“To carve my name upon the monument of hope…”
And so he stood there, on that battered little boat—
Singing,
Laughing,
Crying,
Bleeding,
Sailing through the endless storm,
Toward the distant dawn.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 265: Chapter 167: Cleaning Up the Mess
Summary:
“When the storm passes, the scars remain — but so does the unbroken will.”
Chapter Text
In the howling storm, that rebellious, impassioned song gradually faded into the distance.
Yet its echoes lingered in the hearts of all who heard it, refusing to disperse.
It was as if within those ancient, epic verses there lay a mysterious, mighty power that set one’s blood alight and stirred the soul to action.
The Marines on the battleship knelt on one knee, eyes fixed on the ragged little ship vanishing into the horizon, tears streaming down their faces before they even realized.
They couldn’t understand the lyrics, but the heroic and mournful melody was filled with such power.
On the island’s harbor, an enormous crowd had quietly gathered.
They too stood there, hearts surging, silent for a long while.
“This has become troublesome… he’s actually awakened Conqueror’s Haki…”
Borsalino stood with his hands in his pockets, a faint smile playing at his lips.
Darren smiled thoughtfully.
It seemed his earlier suspicion might have been correct after all.
For a Marine, killing a Celestial Dragon was the fastest, most direct way to awaken Conqueror’s Haki.
No—maybe that wasn’t the whole story.
Darren shook his head, dismissing the idea.
Dragon’s Conqueror’s Haki hadn’t awakened at the moment he killed that Celestial Dragon—it had burst forth naturally when his heart shifted, when he solidified his resolve.
Killing a Celestial Dragon was only one piece of the puzzle.
The so-called Conqueror’s Haki was the power of spirit itself.
A power that came from the soul.
The deepest cause of its awakening was always the transformation within the heart, spurred by some external shock.
For example, seeing a loved one in mortal danger, the desperate determination to save them could awaken Conqueror’s Haki.
Or, when crushed by oppression, an unyielding ambition to roam the seas like a sovereign.
Or, the dream of freedom, the defiance of an unbowed will…
So killing a Celestial Dragon—this “act” alone—wasn’t enough to awaken Conqueror’s Haki in a Marine.
At least, not entirely.
What truly mattered was whether the Marine’s own will was strong enough, whether the spiritual pressure he faced was enough to crack his world—and whether he could find, within the turmoil and doubt of that act, the conviction he would live by for the rest of his life.
That was the key to awakening Conqueror’s Haki.
It was only fitting that this man would become the future leader of the Revolutionary Army—the World’s Worst Criminal.
Dragon’s newly awakened Conqueror’s Haki was already powerful enough to generate those crackling black-red lightning bolts.
The sheer wave of spiritual force had left even Darren—himself a Conqueror’s Haki user—momentarily dazed, a shiver prickling his scalp.
It was that sudden surge of will that allowed Dragon to overpower Sakazuki’s final blow, buying the chance to escape.
As Darren’s thoughts drifted, Sakazuki’s battleship and another belated battleship slowly sailed into the harbor.
Sakazuki disembarked from the deck, his face dark as the rain, a smear of vivid blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
Darren noticed his right hand was dripping blood.
“Borsalino, why didn’t you pursue him?”
Sakazuki’s expression was cold, his voice carrying an edge of interrogation.
Borsalino raised his hands in a mock-surrender gesture, his face a picture of innocence.
“A monster who’s awakened Conqueror’s Haki, plus the advantage of Dragon’s powers on the sea… even if I’d chased him, it wouldn’t have ended well.”
“Besides—Commodore Darren here needs someone to look after him, doesn’t he?”
He lowered his voice suddenly, his smile turning sly.
“Sakazuki, there are some things you’d best not go too far with… You heard it yourself—Dragon never betrayed ‘justice’…”
Sakazuki fell silent for a long moment.
He glanced at Darren, at the brutal injuries covering his body, and his cold expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He pulled out a military Den Den Mushi, dialing Marine Headquarters.
Soon the line connected.
“What’s the situation, Sakazuki?” came the anxious voice of Admiral Sengoku from the other side.
Sakazuki pressed his lips together, his hoarse voice cutting through the rain.
“Reporting, Admiral… In the midst of the battle, the target criminal, Monkey D. Dragon, awakened Conqueror’s Haki.”
“Commodore Darren and I are both seriously wounded. Rear Admiral Borsalino…”
He glanced at Borsalino’s seawater-drenched uniform, the corners of his eye twitching ever so slightly.
“…lightly wounded.”
“The target managed to escape. The capture mission… has failed.”
There was a long silence from the other side of the line.
“I understand… You’ve done well, Sakazuki,” Sengoku finally said, his voice sounding almost relieved as it steadied.
“Take some time to recover, then set course for home.”
He paused, as if recalling something, and asked,
“By the way—Commodore Darren, is he still conscious?”
Sakazuki blinked, glancing at Darren, who nodded faintly.
“Yes, he’s conscious.”
“Good. Hand the Den Den Mushi to him. I have something personal to discuss.”
Sakazuki frowned, but in the end said nothing, passing the Den Den Mushi to Darren before he and Borsalino stepped a few paces away toward the sea.
“Cough, cough… Admiral Sengoku, it’s me,” Darren said weakly, pausing to catch his breath.
“How’s your condition?” Sengoku asked, concern lacing his voice.
Darren gave a faint smile. “Admiral, don’t worry about me.”
“Good, good…” Sengoku murmured, then his tone dropped, becoming lower, more private.
“This matter’s cleanup—I’ll leave it in your hands. How do you plan to handle it?”
Darren gave a resigned smile, as if he’d already expected this.
So in the end, it’s still my job to clean up the mess.
That bastard Dragon—if you wanted to kill a Celestial Dragon, why did you have to do it on my turf?
He took a slow breath and answered evenly.
“Admiral, tomorrow every newspaper and journal in the North Blue will publish the same news.”
“The report will read: The notorious criminal Monkey D. Dragon and his gang of five hundred were thoroughly defeated by the Marines in the North Blue. Dragon’s fate is unknown, but all five hundred of his subordinates have been arrested.”
“…but Dragon didn’t have any such gang—” Sengoku began reflexively.
But the moment the words left his mouth, he understood immediately.
This was to give the World Government a convenient explanation—to let them vent their anger.
After all, they couldn’t admit that even with so much Marine power deployed, Dragon had still managed to escape. That would make the Marines look incompetent—unbelievable even.
“I’ll handle it. Besides… the North Blue has been far too quiet for far too long,” Darren said with a faint smile.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 266: Chapter 168: Bounty: Monkey D. Dragon
Summary:
“Justice wears many faces, but its true shape is found only in the courage of the soul.”
Chapter Text
“Mm, I trust you to handle this, Darren,” came the satisfied chuckle of Admiral Sengoku through the Den Den Mushi.
But Darren’s next words instantly wiped the smile from Sengoku’s face.
With a half-smile, half-sigh, Darren said:
“However, Admiral Sengoku, considering the scale of this incident in the North Blue… In less than a day, the Marines here eradicated a criminal gang of over five hundred men. Shouldn’t Marine Headquarters show some… appreciation?”
“What do you mean by appreciation?” Sengoku asked, not quite following.
“Well, you know—expenses for military equipment, treatment and compensation for the wounded, and of course, the cost of calming the civilian population… It’s not a small sum.”
“…”
For a moment, there was silence. Then the Den Den Mushi crackled with the sound of Sengoku’s teeth grinding together.
“Three hundred million Berries! That’s the maximum budget I can allocate from Headquarters right now, Commodore Darren!”
Three hundred million Berries…
Cleaning up a mess was a technical job—and a back-breaking one at that.
True, Darren had already secured the massive gold treasure from Skypiea, so he hardly needed more money. But he’d always followed a simple principle: “If I’m paid, I’ll get the job done.”
And from the other side—“If you want me to get it done, you’d better pay up.”
As for how difficult the job might be?
Too bad. That would just mean paying more.
Three hundred million wasn’t a fortune, but in this era, it was no small sum. After all, Berries hadn’t yet suffered from inflation.
And after this fiasco with Dragon, Marine Headquarters would probably have to tighten their belts for a long while. It wouldn’t be right to squeeze them for more.
It was enough. Better than nothing.
Satisfied, Darren finally smiled and said:
“Then on behalf of the Marines in the North Blue, I extend our deepest thanks for the support and aid of Admiral Sengoku and Marine Headquarters.”
Sengoku let out an audible sigh and rolled his eyes, clearly in a sour mood.
“Enough. Return to Headquarters with Sakazuki and the others, and don’t go wandering off.”
“Zephyr’s already running out of patience, and I can’t talk him down forever.”
Darren nodded.
“Yes, Admiral Sengoku.”
Blu…!
The Den Den Mushi call cut off.
“The Admiral’s orders…?” Sakazuki and Borsalino walked over. Sakazuki took back the military Den Den Mushi from Darren.
“It’s nothing. Just some final cleanup I need to handle personally,” Darren said as he pushed himself up on one knee.
“This incident took place in the North Blue—it’s easier for me to clean it up properly here… And as for tracking down Dragon, I’ll keep going.”
Sakazuki gave a single nod.
“How’s your condition? Do you need to rest here a day?”
Darren gave a faint smile.
“No need. I’m ready to set sail whenever.”
He could feel it: beneath the bloodstained Marine coat, his wounds had finally stopped bleeding.
Sakazuki said nothing further. His expression was as cold and severe as ever as he turned and led the Marines back onto the battleship.
By now, the storm had passed.
Somewhere along the line, the sun had begun to rise in the east.
Warm light spilled over the calm, endless sea, the sky a clear and brilliant blue.
Dawn had come.
Darren stood there for a moment, unconsciously glancing out over the distant sea where Dragon had vanished. A faint, gentle smile crept across his lips.
“Don’t look back, my friend.”
He whispered the words softly.
———
At the same time.
Marine Headquarters, Admiral’s Office.
Admiral Sengoku slowly set the military Den Den Mushi down, sinking back into his chair with a long, drawn-out breath.
“No matter what… this was the best possible outcome,”
Muttered Vice Admiral Tsuru, seated on the nearby sofa.
“Yes.”
Sengoku nodded.
“The best outcome indeed.”
In truth, neither of them could bear the thought of Dragon falling into the hands of the Celestial Dragons.
From the standpoint of “justice” and “reason,” neither of them believed Dragon’s actions were truly wrong.
Protecting the weak had always been the duty of the Marines.
A young man with an unshakable sense of justice, disgusted by the cruelty of the world, finally lashing out in a blood-soaked act of defiance—it was hard to blame him for that.
In fact, if Dragon hadn’t been that kind of person, they would never have placed such high hopes on him.
On a personal level, they had no wish to see Dragon die at the hands of their own men—or at the hands of the Celestial Dragons.
He was Garp’s son, yes, but more importantly, he was a Marine they had watched grow up. After so many years, they’d formed a deep bond with him.
“What will you do next, Sengoku?” Tsuru asked, concern etched on her face.
Sengoku rubbed at his temples, thinking for a moment before answering.
“We’ll erase all traces of Dragon from the Marine’s records. Seal away the archives—every scrap of information. We can’t risk anything else leaking out.”
“Order a total gag order: no one is to speak of Dragon or anything connected to him.”
Tsuru nodded in silent agreement.
Dragon’s “defection” from the Marines was a fact now. As much as they mourned the loss of such a promising young man, as the Marine leadership, their first duty was to stabilize the situation.
Because Dragon’s identity was special—his strength was formidable—and his charisma and leadership had earned him many followers within the Marines.
If they didn’t move quickly, some of those followers might try to join Dragon in his “defection.”
If that happened, the entire Marine structure would face a catastrophic earthquake.
“What about Garp?” Tsuru asked, her face serious.
Sengoku shook his head.
“He won’t be touched too harshly.”
“That old bastard’s reputation and power speak for themselves. Even the Gorosei and the Government’s top brass will think twice before crossing him.”
“And besides—what can the Gorosei really do to Garp? They still need him to hunt down Roger…”
“So what could they do? Demote him? Cut his pay? Strip his rank?”
Sengoku gave a small, rueful laugh.
“Garp wouldn’t care about any of that.”
“And as for a siege… or a bounty on his head?”
“That’s even more impossible.”
“Garp isn’t Zephyr—if he feels he’s been wronged, he’ll fight back.”
His voice fell to a low murmur at the end.
Tsuru’s eyes darkened slightly, as if remembering something best left unspoken.
Sengoku sighed heavily.
“Issue the bounty,” he said at last. “Target: Monkey D. Dragon. Bounty… 2 billion Berries.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 267: Chapter 169: A Game
Summary:
“A game of power begins in the shadows—where ambition and fear dance hand in hand.”
Chapter Text
“Five hundred pirates or criminals, correct?”
“Yes, I understand. Before dawn tonight… no problem.”
North Blue, Rubeck Island, inside the grand hall of the Donquixote Family’s stronghold.
The Supreme Commander of the North Blue, Momonga, put down the encrypted Den Den Mushi, raising his calm gaze to the blond youth in the pink-feathered coat before him.
“You heard it. This time, I’ll need your assistance.”
“Heh heh heh… of course, no problem at all. It’s my honor to ease the burden of the Godfather,”
Doflamingo laughed with a manic gleam in his sunglasses, that familiar sinister edge in his voice.
“I can hand over about two hundred men right away. There’s a batch of fools who caused trouble in my casino—Diamante caught them red-handed. I was actually wondering how to deal with them…”
Momonga gave no reaction to that, his tone icy.
“That’s not my concern. Two hundred will be sufficient.”
For the shady dealings of the Donquixote Family in the North Blue, he had no interest—only a measure of cold distaste.
But since Darren had tacitly permitted this, and Doflamingo was careful not to dabble in the types of crimes Darren forbade in the North Blue, Momonga turned a blind eye.
Casinos, loan sharks, private banks, brothels, petty theft, weapons smuggling… these old trades could never be stamped out entirely. And the Marines didn’t have jurisdiction over them.
So rather than let them run wild, it was better to let Doflamingo’s hand control them all.
It allowed the Marines to tax them heavily, fueling the massive expansion of the North Blue fleet’s funding.
And it made things easier to manage—if anything went wrong, they’d settle it directly with the Donquixote Family.
But human trafficking, organ dealing, and drugs? Those were lines Darren had drawn in blood, and no one was allowed to cross them.
“The remaining three hundred, the North Blue fleet will handle,” Momonga said finally, lifting his glass from the marble table and draining it in one swallow. His eyes shone with lethal resolve.
That single calm sentence foretold the bloody storm soon to sweep across the entire North Blue.
“Thank you for your hospitality. The wine is excellent.”
“And Darren asked me to pass along this message: he’s very pleased with your conduct lately.”
“Heh heh heh… then that’s wonderful to hear.”
Doflamingo’s chuckle slithered from his throat, eyes glinting.
“But, Supreme Commander Momonga, I have one question for you,” he said as Momonga turned to leave. His lips curved in a wolfish grin.
Momonga paused mid-step.
“Mm?”
Sitting there, Doflamingo’s body seemed to exude a strange, unfathomable pressure. His ten fingers twitched slightly, as if plucking invisible threads in the air.
“It’s nothing. I’m simply curious—does the Supreme Commander of the North Blue truly have the qualifications to take the Godfather’s place!?”
The instant the words fell, Doflamingo’s eyes flashed with mad arrogance. He suddenly swept his hand through the air!
Slash!
It was as if a blade sharper than anything had sliced through the void.
Rip!
Deep gouges appeared in the walls and floor of the grand hall, silent and sudden.
But Doflamingo’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, the smile freezing on his face.
For he saw something he couldn’t comprehend.
Momonga stood there, back still turned to him, completely motionless.
His body had been sliced cleanly in half by invisible threads.
Yet not a drop of blood flowed from the cut. Instead of flesh and bone, the severed edges pulsed with blazing plasma.
“What do you think?” Momonga’s “severed” head turned slowly to meet Doflamingo’s stunned eyes, a cold smile playing across his lips.
In that instant,
An icy chill surged from Doflamingo’s feet up to his scalp, making his skin crawl with goosebumps.
And then—Momonga vanished.
At least, from Doflamingo’s sight, the Supreme Commander of the North Blue simply ceased to exist.
Doflamingo’s eyes widened in alarm. He whirled around, his instincts screaming at him.
Too late.
A hand in a black leather glove had already closed around his throat.
“Doflamingo, you’re Darren’s godson. So I’ll overlook it this time,” Momonga said, his voice utterly flat as he stared into Doflamingo’s reddening face.
“But if you ever pull a stunt like this again—if you really want to die so badly…”
His right hand, hanging naturally at his side, suddenly crackled with wild blue lightning, flooding the dark hall with searing light.
“I won’t mind testing what it’s like… to kill a Celestial Dragon.”
“Just to see if Darren was right—that doing so might awaken my own Conqueror’s Haki.”
A tic twitched at the corner of Doflamingo’s eye.
Momonga gave a thin smile and released his grip.
He even took the time to gently smooth out Doflamingo’s rumpled coat before stepping back, extending his hand with a polite smile.
“Now, I’ll leave the rest of the work to you.”
Doflamingo didn’t even have time to react. He still looked dazed, rattled to his core. Automatically, he took Momonga’s hand and gave it a limp shake.
It was only after Momonga had left the hall—one long minute later—that Doflamingo slumped onto the sofa with a thud.
Wordlessly, he grabbed a bottle of red wine and upended it.
Gulp—gulp—gulp.
The deep red liquid, like blood, spilled from the corners of his mouth, staining his white shirt a garish crimson—but he didn’t even notice.
Only when the bottle was empty did he slam it down, shattering it on the stone floor.
Glass shards flew, and the last of the wine splattered on the pale gray walls.
Doflamingo panted heavily, gasping for breath as the tension finally drained from him.
He leaned back against the couch, head tipped to stare at the ornate ceiling, his expression clouded and shifting.
And then—
“Heh heh heh…”
A manic, deranged grin twisted across his face. His laughter, cracked and feverish, echoed through the cavernous, shadowy hall like a devil’s whisper.
“Interesting… this is truly interesting…”
“That’s the legendary invincible Devil Fruit, isn’t it?!”
“And you actually found it… you’re as shrewd as ever, my dear Godfather.”
“Are you that afraid of me!?”
“To the point of giving something so precious to that trash Momonga!?”
“Heh heh heh heh heh!!!”
“This game… it’s getting more and more fascinating!”
He laughed wildly, thick veins bulging across his forehead like writhing worms.
“So let’s see… whether you kill me first—”
“Or whether I find a chance to kill you!”
“Hehhahaha!!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 268: Chapter 170: Enjoy the Festival
Summary:
“In the shadows of the festival lights, some stand alone—marked by blood, yet alive with new resolve.”
Chapter Text
“Enjoy the Festival!!”
“Enjoy the Festival to you too!!”
On a neutral island somewhere in the New World, the night was alive with revelry. The streets bustled under lanterns and garlands, laughter and greetings echoing as people, dressed in every manner of festive clothing, exchanged holiday wishes in the crowded marketplace.
In the bathroom of an ordinary inn, Dragon stood beneath a scalding shower, head tilted back, letting the torrent of hot water wash away days of exhaustion.
Rivulets of blood traced down his battered body, mixing with the steam and water. After a moment, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower, walking to the mirror.
He wiped the condensation from the glass and stared at the reflection staring back—his lean, scarred body, and a face that seemed almost unfamiliar to him.
The fresh scar that cut across his left cheek had already begun to scab, the intricate pattern of it like a permanent brand. It erased the gentle air that had once been his hallmark, lending instead an edge of wildness, cold defiance, and a warrior’s pride.
Looking into the mirror at this changed face, Dragon let out a long breath and forced a faint, wry smile.
He could see it clearly now. He had grown up.
“From now on… the road is yours alone, boy,” he murmured softly.
He slipped into a loose bathrobe and left the bathroom.
In the suite beyond, a man stood in the shadows, dressed in a plain black suit that would have made him disappear in any crowd. When Dragon emerged, the man gave a small bow.
“Sir, you’re safe now,” he said respectfully. “This island lies within the New World. I’ve prepared the detailed sea charts and Eternal Poses for the surrounding islands—they’re on the writing desk.”
Dragon studied the man’s unremarkable face, plain as a thousand others. Then he asked quietly:
“Do you know who I really am?”
The man’s voice was calm, respectful.
“It’s not important. My mission was to bring you to the New World safely—and it’s done. But if you insist on the truth, then yes… I know you’re Monkey D. Dragon. The son of the Marine ‘Hero’ Monkey D. Garp. Once a monster within the Marines. Now a world-class criminal, hunted by the World Government and the Marines with a bounty of two billion Berries.”
Dragon was silent for a moment. Then he asked:
“Do you know what I did?”
“I know,” the man said simply. “You killed a Celestial Dragon.”
Dragon’s brow furrowed.
“Then you understand… that by carrying out this mission, you’re risking your life.”
He paused, his gaze sharpening. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you to silence you?”
The man shook his head.
“To work for that man… it’s the greatest honor of my life,” he said quietly. “If it costs me everything, I have no regrets.”
Dragon stared at him for a long moment.
“Darren’s subordinate, then?”
The man did not deny it. He bowed deeply.
“Three years ago, Lord Darren saved my entire family’s lives and gave them enough wealth to last generations… This is the least I can do in return.”
He paused, then added:
“Also, Dragon—Lord Darren wanted me to pass along a message.”
Dragon blinked in surprise. “What message?”
The man raised his head, a small smile flickering across his lips.
“He said… ‘I understand how you felt better than anyone—after all, that Celestial Dragon in the North Blue wasn’t the only one who died.’”
The only one…?
Dragon’s eyes went wide, struck as if by lightning.
It clicked into place. His heart skipped a beat.
“Wait… you mean—” he stammered.
A complex mix of shock, confusion, realization, and a dozen other emotions surged across Dragon’s face.
Of course!
Suddenly everything made sense.
Why the incident with Saint Shaldes had been impossible to trace to its true source.
Why Darren had said he “understood” how it felt to kill a Celestial Dragon.
Why he’d looked at Dragon with that hint of frustration and pity in his eyes.
If that was true—everything made perfect sense.
He remembered how he’d boasted to Darren about the thrill of killing a Celestial Dragon, the satisfaction it had given him—and he felt a wave of embarrassment. His toes curled involuntarily in his slippers.
Wait!!
Another thought struck him like a hammer.
If it had really been Darren who’d killed Saint Shaldes… then with Admiral Sengoku’s cunning, he would have surely noticed something.
After all, it had been Sengoku who oversaw that case at the start.
Yet if Sengoku had noticed, why had nothing happened to Darren? Why had he only risen higher and higher in rank?
There was only one answer.
Darren had left no trace.
He’d done it perfectly.
Dragon’s thoughts sharpened. Everything was so clear now.
“So that’s it…” he murmured.
A faint, self-deprecating smile curved his lips.
“Compared to Darren’s meticulous planning, I must seem like a reckless fool to Admiral Sengoku,” he muttered to himself.
But he didn’t regret it.
Even if he could go back in time, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill that Celestial Dragon again.
That was who he was.
He could never be like Darren—calculating every move, seeing every possibility.
But hearing this—feeling this—suddenly all the weight of loneliness and frustration lifted from his chest.
Because… there was someone else in this world who had dared to draw a blade against the “noble and great gods.”
It felt like, in the endless darkness of night, he had been groping forward alone with a single flickering lamp. And then, in that deepest black, he discovered another soul also walking forward in the same night—also bearing that defiant light.
A warmth—no, a heat—rose in his chest, overwhelming and fierce.
“Darren…” Dragon whispered, his eyes stinging, his fists clenched tight.
“I thought we would drift apart forever… that we would part ways completely.”
“I never imagined… that we might still be walking this path together.”
“No…”
He shook his head, remembering the stories of the North Blue Fleet and that calm, unshakable confidence in Darren’s eyes.
“Perhaps… you’ve already walked further than me,” he murmured, his voice so low only he could hear it.
“…then, Dragon, I’ll take my leave now,” the man said softly.
He gestured to the small cake on the table, offering a gentle smile.
“This is my humble gift to you,” he said. “I didn’t understand that song you sang… but I felt something in it—a power beyond words.”
“I know the path ahead will be hard and sacred. May this small sweetness bring you a moment’s comfort in that endless struggle.”
He bowed low, his sincerity shining through.
“Enjoy the Festival, sir.”
Boom!
Outside, fireworks burst in the night sky—vivid bursts of color that bloomed and faded in dazzling splendor.
For a moment, Dragon’s eyes went unfocused as he watched the festival fireworks. Only then did he realize—the new year had come.
A gentle smile softened his face.
“You too. Enjoy the Festival,” he said.
“Go home. Be with your family. That’s what truly matters, isn’t it?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 269: Chapter 171: Don’t Think I Don’t Know What You’ve Done
Summary:
“Justice is often written in the blood of those who carry it—and sometimes, in the whispers of those who hide it.”
Chapter Text
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
Inside the Fleet Admiral’s office.
Having just returned from the North Blue, Sakazuki, Darren, and Borsalino stood at attention, the first two still carrying the heavy scent of blood and exhaustion from battle, while Borsalino merely lounged with his hands in his pockets, casual as ever.
With arms folded across his broad chest, skin a deep bronze, Steel Bone Kong regarded them with a gaze that held nothing but undisguised approval.
“This mission… you’ve all done well.”
He closed the detailed report he’d been reading.
Sakazuki’s expression was grim, his voice hoarse as he spoke.
“Fleet Admiral Kong, this was my mistake. My judgment was lacking. I failed to capture that traitor Dragon—I’ll accept any punishment, any consequences.”
Kong gave a faint, reassuring smile.
“The failure of this mission isn’t on you alone, Sakazuki. You needn’t blame yourself.”
“Dragon’s strength and talent are known to us all. His abilities at sea give him a tremendous edge—no one could have foreseen that he would awaken Conqueror’s Haki.”
“You did all you could.”
Sakazuki’s fists clenched tighter. His jaw worked as he said, teeth bared:
“Fleet Admiral, I want to continue leading the pursuit of Dragon. Just give me enough time, and I swear I’ll bring that traitor—”
Before he could finish, Kong cut him off with a wave of his hand, his voice firm.
“That’s enough for now, Sakazuki.”
“Your priority is to recover from your wounds, to make sure there’s no permanent damage. As for pursuing Dragon, I’ll choose someone else for that task.”
Then Kong turned to Borsalino, his expression softening into a smile.
“Borsalino—how is the development of the laser cannon project in the newly established Marine Science Division?”
Borsalino gave a long, lazy sigh, sounding almost apologetic.
“Ah, I’m sorry, Fleet Admiral. The laser cannon project is still stuck at a critical stage… They’re trying to solve the power supply issue.”
Hearing this, Darren’s eyes flickered ever so slightly.
Kong didn’t seem to notice, only nodding thoughtfully.
“Hmm. Dr. Vegapunk is a genius five hundred years ahead of his time. With his vision and intellect, I’m sure he’ll find a solution soon enough.”
“Make sure they move quickly. If we can equip our battleships with these weapons, it will mean an unimaginable boost to the Marines’ power.”
Borsalino nodded slowly, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I’ll see to it.”
“Good,” Kong said. “You two can leave now. I’d like to speak with Darren alone.”
Sakazuki hesitated briefly, glancing at Darren before raising his hand in a crisp salute and turning to go.
Borsalino gave Darren a knowing smile, then followed.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Now it was just Darren, standing before Kong’s massive desk, facing the giant plaque on the grey wall that read “Justice.”
“Darren, you handled this very well. I’m very pleased.”
Kong’s calm eyes met his, a rare smile creasing his weathered face.
Darren gave a small nod, his voice modest.
“It was all thanks to Admiral Sengoku’s support, Fleet Admiral. I only did what I could. All in the name of justice.”
Kong chuckled softly and shook his head.
“Sengoku was right—you’re a clever one, Darren.”
He tapped the report he’d just closed.
“‘In fierce battle against the notorious criminal Dragon, Commodore Rogers Darren displayed extraordinary courage and skill, preventing the target’s escape…’”
“‘Over a thousand witnesses saw Commodore Rogers Darren, gravely wounded, resolutely maintain the battle in an uninhabited area…’”
“‘The clash was so intense that it destroyed at least eighty buildings…’”
His smile turned cold, his tone suddenly biting.
“I hadn’t expected this from you—not just cleverness, but real acting talent.”
The cold edge in Kong’s words carried a weight, an oppressive pressure that could chill the blood.
A lesser man would have cracked under it, would have faltered in an instant.
But Darren’s face showed no trace of fear. His eyes only held a mild confusion as he asked:
“Acting, Fleet Admiral? I don’t understand.”
Kong’s cold smile widened as he leaned forward, broad hands braced on the desk.
“Is that so?”
“Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you did, boy.”
“You let Dragon escape on purpose, didn’t you? Rumor has it you and he were close.”
Darren blinked, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
“Dragon and I were merely colleagues, sir—nothing more.”
“As for our personal philosophies… we couldn’t be more different. He’s the hero everyone worships—the blood of a Marine ‘Hero’ in his veins, unwavering in his sense of justice.”
“Me? I’ve always been known for my questionable methods, my ambition. I was just lucky enough to kill a legendary pirate, and that’s it. Nothing more.”
“I crave power, rank, recognition… Dragon killed a Celestial Dragon, making him the enemy of the entire world. Capturing him would guarantee me a promotion. Why would I ever let him go?”
Kong’s eyes narrowed, searching Darren’s face for even the faintest crack.
He found none.
Every word, every gesture was impeccable—calm, reasonable, and perfectly aligned with the picture of an ambitious officer.
After a moment, Kong gave a small, satisfied smile.
“Good. If the World Government sends CP agents to investigate, that’s exactly what you’ll say.”
A brief flicker of tension tightened Darren’s mouth—he almost flinched.
Almost.
He kept his expression smooth, his voice even.
“Understood, Fleet Admiral. I’ll report the same story, exactly as you said.”
He hesitated, then asked with a hint of curiosity:
“But… will the Government really send someone to investigate?”
Kong’s brow furrowed, a faint sigh escaping him.
“You’re starting to enter the real core of Headquarters now, boy. Some things… even if I don’t say them outright, you can see them for yourself.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 270: Chapter 172: I Came at the Wrong Time
Summary:
“Sometimes, the wrong time is exactly the right time to confront the truths we’d rather avoid.”
Chapter Text
“I’m still new to Headquarters, sir. There’s much I don’t yet understand,”
Darren said with a gentle smile, every word careful and measured.
Kong: …
You, who dared to kill a Celestial Dragon, claim you “don’t understand”?
Sengoku had tried to probe you before, but you’d slipped past him like water—and now you’re saying you’re still unfamiliar with the situation at Headquarters?
Kong let out a snort of laughter. He reached into his cigar box, pulled out a thick cigar, and casually tossed it to Darren.
“You’re a natural-born politician, kid. I won’t play games with you.”
He bit down on another cigar himself, lighting it with a faint crackle, his voice deep and steady.
“After these two Celestial Dragon deaths, trust from the World Government in the Marines has never been weaker. They’re questioning everything about us.”
Darren was just about to light his own cigar when he paused to correct him politely.
“No, sir—just one death. The Celestial Dragon’s death in the North Blue… the cause has been confirmed. Saint Shaldes’ ship was attacked by a giant Sea King, and he died, unfortunately. I personally extend my deepest apologies and condolences for this tragic loss.”
Kong’s eyelid twitched. He let out a dry cough and waved a dismissive hand.
“Sure, sure. A Sea King attack it is.”
He took a deep pull from his cigar, the tip glowing bright in the dark office. After a few seconds, he continued.
“Anyway, the distrust is real. Since I became Fleet Admiral, it’s never been this bad. Whether the Government will send someone to investigate… I can’t say for sure.”
“But I can confirm this—our promotion plans, the ones that were almost finalized, have been put on hold.”
“Promotion plans?” Darren asked, arching a brow.
“Yes,”
Kong nodded gravely.
“Originally, in three months’ time, I was set to leave for the Holy Land of Mary Geoise to take the position of Supreme Commander of the Entire Military Forces of the World Government (Commander-in-Chief of the World Government). Sengoku would naturally succeed me as Fleet Admiral.”
“But now… because of this mess with Dragon, those plans have been suspended.”
So that’s what was going on!
Darren felt a sudden moment of clarity.
He’d already heard the rumors—Sengoku was supposed to be promoted to Fleet Admiral soon. But he’d always found it odd. In the history he knew, Sengoku’s promotion shouldn’t have happened so early.
After all, during the Buster Call on Ohara at the start of the Great Pirate Era, it had been Sengoku, still a Marine Admiral, who had authorized the slaughter.
Now it all made sense.
Dragon’s “betrayal” had likely forced the Government to question Sengoku’s ability to lead, delaying his promotion for years.
And that was understandable.
Dragon wasn’t some random Rear Admiral.
His bloodline, his position, and what he symbolized went beyond even the rank of Admiral.
For the son of the Marine Hero to slay a Celestial Dragon? It was a blow to the very soul of the Marines.
“It’s just temporary,” Darren said lightly, a faint smile on his lips. “Once the dust settles and people stop asking questions, the Government will forget about it.”
“They still need us, after all. The Marines are their strongest weapon.”
“In the meantime, I’ll offer my congratulations early—on your promotion to Commander-in-Chief.”
Kong gave him a long look. Then he chuckled, smoke curling from his lips.
“Don’t be so quick to celebrate, kid. This… touches more than just me and Sengoku.”
Darren’s smile froze for a split second.
…?
Kong’s grin grew wider.
“Your report was immaculate. No flaws at all. But no matter how well it’s written, this Celestial Dragon’s death happened in the North Blue.”
“Both times, these deaths happened in the North Blue—your territory, ‘King of the North Blue.’”
“That’s why I regret to inform you… your own promotion has been postponed too.”
He paused for effect, his smile almost playful.
“Of course, just temporarily. Once the questions fade and the Government’s attention shifts, they’ll forget.”
Darren: …
Heh. Old and cunning. Of course.
So that three hundred million Berries payout… probably wasn’t enough.
I should have asked for more.
A Rear Admiral’s promotion… a threshold most Marines never cross in their entire careers.
It had been within his grasp—and now, gone.
Darren had hoped that with the rank of Rear Admiral, he’d finally stand as an equal to Sakazuki and Borsalino—no more false salutes, no more pretending to be the junior officer.
But now? The prize had flown away.
Damned Dragon. If I’d known, I would have kicked him harder…
Why’d you have to do it in the North Blue?
Not only did I have to clean up your mess—I have to take the blame too.
Darren sighed inwardly, then spoke with resigned calm.
“I’m ready to accept any orders Headquarters has for me.”
But in truth, he didn’t really mind. The rank of Rear Admiral meant little to him, personally.
Kong nodded, taking another puff of his cigar and glancing out at the night sky.
“That’s all, kid. You’d best get going—there’s a certain lady from Wano waiting for you, I’d wager.”
The old man gave him a sly wink, voice teasing.
“Yes, Fleet Admiral,” Darren said, raising his hand in a crisp salute.
“Mm. Go on. Enjoy the festival, kid,” Steel Bone Kong said with a wave of his hand.
———
Marine Headquarters, Officers’ residential compound.
Darren paused at the gate, taking in the warm lantern light spilling from inside. For a moment, a gentle warmth filled his chest.
He took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped the grime from his face. He peeled off the bandages from his body, brushing his fingers over his skin to remove any trace of fatigue.
He slapped his cheeks lightly, forcing a smile.
He might be a scoundrel in many ways, but for gentle, kind Toki… he didn’t want her to see his exhaustion.
He pushed open the courtyard gate.
“Toki, I’m home. Enjoy the fest—”
He froze mid-step. His boot hovered in the air, stuck in place.
In the living room of the house, two stunningly beautiful women sat across from each other. A feast lay spread out on the table between them. The air was… tense.
“My dear husband, you’re home,”
Toki turned to him with a smile like the dawn.
Darren’s mouth twitched.
“I… I came at the wrong time… Wait! I just remembered—Admiral Sengoku needed me for something!”
“No,”
The woman across from Toki said, her high ponytail swishing as she gave him a cool, dangerous smile.
Gion’s eyes glinted like steel.
“You’re right on time.”
Darren: …
That line… felt… ominous.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 271: Chapter 173: Toki and Gion
Summary:
“Sometimes, it takes a quiet night and a gentle smile to reveal the real distance between us.”
Chapter Text
The night was alive with the hush of wind and the bright glow of stars, a silvery river stretching across the sky, gleaming like a painting.
In the distance, over the Civilian district, bursts of colorful fireworks bloomed, showering the night with fleeting streaks of red and gold beneath the full moon. The laughter of children floated over the walls, mingled with the pitter-patter of their playful footsteps.
Inside, the table was set with dishes still steaming in the soft glow of candlelight.
Miso soup with floating seaweed, grilled eel glistening with fat, thin slices of wagyu beef roasted to perfection, cold tofu quivering like jelly, and three bowls of perfectly steamed white rice. The fragrant steam curled into the air, carrying the scent of home and hearth.
Beside him sat two women, each beautiful in her own way, yet utterly different in style and spirit. It was a scene that should have made any man’s heart beat faster.
And yet, Darren felt like he was sitting on a bed of needles.
To his left, Toki knelt in the formal seiza posture, as serene and graceful as always. She wore a loose kimono dress in gentle greens, her long hair coiled up in a simple wooden pin. A faint flush of womanly charm colored her features, a gentle dignity that only deepened with time.
Darren’s eyes drifted, only for a moment, down to where the soft curve of her hips pressed lightly against the white stockings wrapped around her feet.
But before he could linger, a sharp, dangerous look sliced across from his right.
He quickly turned away and found himself facing Gion.
Tonight, Gion was in her usual snug, black mini-skirt uniform, high ponytail and sharp eyes accentuating the mix of youth and fierce elegance that had always surrounded her. Her arms were crossed beneath her chest, hiding her pale arms beneath the curve of her bust, and her gaze was nothing short of menacing.
He swallowed hard.
“Ah… Gion, what brings you here tonight?” he asked, attempting to break the icy tension with a polite, almost clueless smile.
But as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake.
Gion raised a brow, her smirk cold and biting.
“What? Am I not welcome?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “Or am I disturbing your cozy domestic life?”
“No, no, of course not,” Darren said quickly, laughing awkwardly. “It’s just, well, it’s a holiday… I thought maybe Vice Admiral Tsuru would be expecting you for dinner—”
True, back in the North Blue, charming women was a familiar game to him. But Gion was no bored lady of high society. She was the Marine’s beloved “Flower of the Marines,” a woman who had once dared to call Garp “little Garp.”
And now he’d gone and… well, gotten involved with her.
Yes, he could try to argue it was “against his will,” but who would listen to that? Who could he possibly explain it to—Sengoku? Tsuru? Garp? Zephyr?
No, better to keep it to himself. And besides, if he was honest, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy it.
At least, all four times.
“Tsuru and Admiral Sengoku are at Vice Admiral Garp’s tonight,” Gion said coolly, her eyes narrowing.
He flinched slightly at that.
At that moment, Toki turned to her with a gentle smile, her warm presence like a balm in the charged air.
“Gion-chan was my guest tonight,” Toki said sweetly. “I thought, since she was once your subordinate in the North Blue, and now she’s your fellow cadet in the training camp, it would be good for you both to… reconnect a little. And with the festival, it seemed the perfect time.”
She looked at Darren with a tender warmth, her eyes shining.
“You don’t mind, do you, my husband?” she said softly.
Darren blinked. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer.
But when he saw the way Toki’s hand rested lightly on Gion’s, and the way Gion stiffened, then slowly relaxed, he realized what Toki was doing.
She was helping him.
She was smoothing the edges of this impossible situation.
“Of course not,” he said quickly, his smile returning. “It’s… a good thing.”
He noticed how Gion’s frown softened just a little, the icy edge in her eyes dulling as she allowed Toki’s touch to settle her.
Toki turned back to her, her voice gentle and inviting.
“Shall we start then, Gion-chan?” she said, her tone like the softest lullaby. “I hope you won’t mind my humble cooking tonight.”
Gion gave a small, almost shy shake of her head.
“Not at all,” she said quietly.
And so, the three of them began their meal together beneath the warm light of the lamps and the faint crackle of fireworks outside.
“Here, my dear, try this miso soup,” Toki said, ladling some into a bowl for Darren and handing it to him with a smile that glowed in the dim light.
He took a sip and his eyes widened.
“It’s delicious,” he said honestly, his praise bringing a pleased flush to Toki’s cheeks.
He’d never been a huge fan of miso soup—it always seemed too salty—but somehow hers was perfectly balanced, a gentle sweetness and depth that was hard to describe.
Toki’s eyes brightened even more at his words, and she turned to Gion.
“Gion-chan, please try it too,” she said.
Gion hesitated, but she took the offered bowl, her eyes meeting Toki’s calm, steady gaze.
At first, she’d been reluctant to even come here. When she’d seen Toki at her door, dressed like a perfect wife, her heart had twisted with a guilt she hadn’t been able to name. Like she was trespassing on something sacred.
But Toki’s warmth had been impossible to turn away from. Her quiet hospitality, her genuine grace—Gion had found herself unable to refuse.
And deep down, there was another feeling. A fierce competitiveness. A need to see, with her own eyes, just what sort of woman this was.
But as she sat here, watching Toki carefully arrange each dish, feeling the warmth of the miso broth against her lips, she realized something that made her chest ache.
She couldn’t compare.
Toki wasn’t just kind—she was… everything. Everything Gion knew she couldn’t be.
She tasted the soup and her eyes softened, a quiet, almost embarrassed smile pulling at her lips.
“It’s very good,” she said softly.
And for a moment, in the soft glow of the holiday lanterns, the three of them sat together in fragile peace.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 272: Chapter 174: A Great Undertaking
Summary:
"The greatest tragedy is not living without purpose, but realizing too late that you already had one."
Chapter Text
Gion swore that this was the best miso soup she had ever tasted in her life!
It was salty without being cloying, carrying the distinct freshness of seafood, and as she finished the bowl, a comforting warmth seemed to spread through her entire body.
This flavor… felt just like coming home.
“How is it, Gion-chan? Does it taste good?”
Toki’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Gion, her face filled with hopeful anticipation.
Seeing Toki’s crescent-eyed smile, with those long lashes trembling ever so slightly, Gion found her cuteness almost overwhelming.
Gion pursed her lips, not daring to meet Toki’s expectant gaze. She simply nodded, her voice soft:
“Mmm. Sister Toki, your cooking skills are amazing. The miso soup is delicious.”
“That’s wonderful!”
Toki beamed with delight and took Gion’s hand in hers, a lovely flush blooming across her cheeks as she said, her smile as bright as the spring sun:
“Since you like it so much, come to my house more often. I’ll cook even more delicious things just for you!”
At home…?
She said it so casually, but Gion couldn’t ignore the weight of those words.
The usually proud and cool Gion found herself unable to say anything to refuse under Toki’s gentle, expectant gaze. She merely nodded silently, without uttering a single protest.
Darren watched Gion quietly, an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips.
It wasn’t Toki’s otherworldly beauty that charmed people—it was her gentle, nurturing air, the kind of warmth that made anyone instinctively want to cherish and protect her.
Because of that, she had won the hearts and devotion of so many people in the Land of Wano in the original story.
“Here, try some of this grilled eel I made too.”
…
The meal was unexpectedly harmonious.
No arguments, no barbed words… Under Toki’s tender hospitality, Gion kept her temper in check, and Darren didn’t stir up any trouble. It was almost like they were one happy family.
After dinner, Darren pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stepped out into the courtyard.
Beneath the shade of the trees, two lounge chairs stood in quiet repose.
For a moment, Darren’s gaze turned distant.
Just a few months ago, a young man burdened by the weight of “justice,” brimming with hope and ideals, had lain sprawled across one of these chairs, drunkenly proclaiming his hot-blooded dreams to the night.
Now, that youth’s burning fervor and idealism had been replaced by a steely resolve and unshakable determination.
The boy who carried the blood of a “hero” had become one of the world’s most dangerous criminals in the blink of an eye.
Times change; people change.
Even Darren, usually steadfast of mind, couldn’t help feeling a surge of emotion at that thought.
He pressed his lips together, then stepped forward and sat down on one of the chairs.
Silently, he gazed up at the glittering expanse of stars above. He lit a cigarette and let the smoke curl upwards, quietly sorting through the turmoil in his heart.
“So… did Dragon-senpai really kill a Celestial Dragon?”
A voice suddenly rang out beside him.
Darren turned and saw Gion standing there, her expression calm. He gave a small smile, his voice low and even:
“Yes. I was the first one to go after him.”
“Unfortunately, he got away… Otherwise, I’d probably have been promoted again by now.”
Gion bit down on her lower lip and, after a pause, murmured in a low voice:
“Liar.”
“Huh?”
Darren blinked, caught off guard.
Gion turned to face him, her eyes locked on his:
“I said, you’re a liar.”
“You’re obviously hurting, aren’t you?”
Darren fell silent for a moment, then gave a wry chuckle.
“How could that be? I barely even knew Dragon.”
“He’s the son of a hero, and I’m just a worthless disgrace. All I regret is that I didn’t catch him myself.”
Gion suddenly let out a cold laugh:
“So how long are you going to keep pretending to be a scoundrel?”
“If I’m not mistaken, you’re still carrying injuries, aren’t you?”
“Yet here you are, acting like nothing’s wrong, strolling into this house with a smile on your face… You’re clearly a very gentle man!”
Whoa, whoa, whoa—since when was calling a man “gentle” a compliment?
Especially in those certain anime from a certain country, “yasashii” was practically the exclusive domain of those pathetic, do-nothing protagonists.
Darren let out an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not pretending. I really am a disgrace.”
“As for Dragon… rather than saying I’m sad, it’s more accurate to say I feel a mix of emotions—regret, and maybe even envy.”
He exhaled a thin plume of smoke.
“For a man to find a cause worthy of dedicating his entire life to while he’s still young and strong—that’s the greatest fortune he could ever have.”
“And what about you?”
Gion’s eyes bore into him, as if hoping for some deeper truth.
“What is the great undertaking you want to dedicate your life to?”
“Me, huh…”
Darren let out a soft sigh, his expression growing pensive as he pondered her question. Then his face grew solemn, and he said:
“You know, when you put it that way… I realize my life’s been pretty messed up.”
Gion’s eyes widened in surprise.
Could it be… this man was actually reflecting on his life?
For the past month, Gion had been unable to come to terms with the fact that she had fallen for a man who called himself a scoundrel.
But if Darren was willing to change… if this was the moment he turned over a new leaf…
A faint hope rose up in her heart.
“I’ve thought a lot about it, especially after what happened with Dragon. I’ve been re-evaluating everything about myself,” Darren said slowly, his brows slightly furrowed.
“What should a person live for?”
“If I spend my youth chasing nothing but pleasure—good food, love, strong drink, power, money, indulgence…”
“Making more money than most people could in a lifetime, living a life of luxury they couldn’t even imagine—then by the time I’m old, I’ll look back and find…”
Gion’s eyes brightened with anticipation, her voice almost breathless: “Find what?”
“…Find that I have no regrets at all.”
Darren exhaled again, his half-lidded eyes glinting with a wistful, almost profound amusement, as though he’d just discovered some great secret to life.
Gion: “…”
“You bastard! Disgrace! Piece of trash!!”
Her chest heaving with anger, Gion trembled all over, teeth clenched tight.
And to think—she’d actually let herself hope for a moment!
He hadn’t changed one bit!
He was still the same infuriating bastard he’d always been!
She shot him a murderous glare, then turned on her heel and stormed out the door without another word.
Darren watched her go, feeling a bit helpless.
He’d only been speaking the truth.
If he didn’t take the chance to enjoy life while he still had the power and freedom to do so—what, was he supposed to wait until the World Government found out he’d killed a Celestial Dragon and put a bounty on his head to start living?
That would be far too late.
Dragon was a living example of that. A cautionary tale.
He let out a long sigh.
“Dear, you really shouldn’t make Gion-chan so angry,”
Toki said with an exasperated smile as she walked over to Darren and gently tugged on his hand.
“Hurry and go after her, comfort her. Gion-chan really cares about you.”
“A few days ago, Vice Admiral Tsuru came to see me and mentioned something.”
“Do you remember when you were captured by Kaido in the New World? Even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Gion-chan went to Tsuru several times in private to beg her to persuade Admiral Sengoku to send troops to rescue you…”
At those words, Darren’s expression froze.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 273: Chapter 175: Who Am I to You?
Summary:
"To know one’s place in the world is to know one’s heart."
Chapter Text
Could it really be true?
That proud and stubborn Gion… she had actually gone to Vice Admiral Tsuru, blushing and stammering, to plead with her to persuade Admiral Sengoku to send reinforcements on his behalf?
Darren could hardly imagine it. He found it nearly impossible to picture the usually aloof and dignified Gion, standing there in front of Tsuru, red-faced and unable to get a single word out.
“My dear, you really are too careless… or maybe it’s more accurate to say your thoughts simply don’t rest on a woman’s heart.”
Toki gave Darren’s arm a gentle push, a note of mild reproach in her voice.
“Gion-chan is a very good woman. She’s just a little stubborn on the surface, but she has a kind heart. Even if she won’t say it out loud, she clearly has feelings for you.”
“So go to her.”
This feels like some sort of trap for me…
Darren’s eyebrow twitched slightly. He glanced carefully at Toki and asked tentatively:
“You… you’re not angry?”
Toki just beamed, her delicate features radiating pride and mischief.
“Of course not! After all, I’m your first wife.”
The way women can so naturally slip into these comparisons—honestly, it’s both baffling and terrifying…
Darren couldn’t help but grumble inwardly at the thought.
Then Toki paused, considering, before adding softly:
“Besides, Gion-chan holds a special position within Marine Headquarters. If she could also become your woman, wouldn’t that be a great help to your future career as well?”
Look at her! Such understanding!
Darren almost wanted to burst into tears from the overwhelming emotion. He couldn’t stop himself—he pulled Toki into a tight embrace, his voice low and sincere:
“Toki, you’re wonderful.”
A wife like this—so gentle, wise, and tolerant—where else could he possibly find one?
Darren realized then that maybe there was something worthwhile in the traditional ways of Wano… or maybe, just maybe, their customs weren’t so bad after all.
“Go on, then.”
Toki’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink under Darren’s sudden enthusiasm. She squirmed slightly in his arms, lowering her head in shy embarrassment, her voice as soft as a whisper.
…
Above them, the inky night sky was lit up with bursts of color, fireworks in full bloom like dazzling falling stars.
That flickering brilliance only made Gion’s solitary figure, walking alone through the streets, seem all the more lonely and small.
“That damned bastard!”
“I can’t believe I even let myself hope for a second!”
Gion’s hands were crossed tightly over her slender shoulders, her cheeks puffed out in frustrated anger as she muttered under her breath.
Little pebbles on the ground were sent skittering ahead with every fierce kick of her foot.
She thought of that warm, peaceful “home,”
and of that perfect, gentle woman—so flawlessly kind that Gion found herself unable to muster even the smallest bit of anger toward her.
An ache spread in her chest, hollow and cold.
The year-end wind gusted through the empty streets, biting into her skin, and Gion instinctively hugged her shoulders tighter.
Far off in the distance, children laughed, families gathered, bright lanterns glowed in every window.
But none of it belonged to her.
“Bastard!”
A wave of hollow emptiness rose up inside her, sharper than any blade.
Gion ground out another curse, sending yet another stone flying down the street. She felt her eyes begin to sting.
“You keep kicking those rocks, and the whole street will be empty soon.”
A lazy, drawling voice spoke up behind her.
Gion’s heart jumped. She hurriedly brushed at her eyes before turning to see the Marine commodore standing there with a faintly mocking smile.
Her eyes flashed, and she snapped:
“What are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t you be at home with your perfect wife?”
Seeing her red-rimmed eyes and hearing that bitter tone, Darren couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. A flicker of mischief glinted in his eyes as he winked:
“There’s still plenty of time tonight to spend with Toki. No rush.”
“And besides, as the host, I had to come out and see my guest off properly.”
Guest… he called her a guest?
That single word struck something deep in Gion’s chest. She bit down on her lip, her eyes growing redder as she said through clenched teeth:
“You don’t have to see me off! I can find my own way back! Go back to your perfect, gentle wife… After all, I’m nothing more than a guest to you, isn’t that right?”
“No, no… You’re not just my guest.”
Darren shook his head slowly.
“Then what am I to you?”
Gion looked up suddenly, a faint, fragile glimmer of hope in her eyes. Her voice was carried by the night air—small, uncertain, but edged with a desperate longing:
“Tell me—what am I to you?”
“Well…”
Darren scratched the back of his head, feigning a troubled expression.
“You’re a subordinate who’s always arguing with me;”
“A colleague who never hesitates to call me a piece of trash;”
“A comrade with a surprisingly cute, sweet side, even if you hide it behind that tough exterior…”
He counted them off on his fingers, one by one, as though reciting some carefully memorized list.
“…Yeah, I’d say that about covers it.”
With every word, Gion’s expression grew darker and darker, until at last her entire face was like ice, her fury radiating outwards:
“You… you… you—!”
But before she could let loose her anger, she felt his lips suddenly pressing against hers.
Her body tensed in shock, instinctively trying to pull away, but a rough, calloused hand had already wrapped firmly around her slender waist, holding her in place, drawing her in close.
The smoky scent of tobacco filled her senses, and Gion’s eyes went wide in disbelief. But even as her mind told her to fight, her body began to melt into his warmth.
All the emotions she’d bottled up—love and hate, resentment and longing—rushed through her like a flood, washing away every last bit of resistance.
Her eyes fluttered shut. Slowly, her hands rose to circle Darren’s neck, pulling him closer still.
Ten long seconds passed.
Finally, their lips parted.
A thin, glistening thread of saliva stretched between them as they drew back, and Gion stood there, dazed and breathless, her face burning bright red.
She’d… she’d actually kissed him like that… right in the middle of the street.
A sudden jolt of panic had her glancing quickly around. Seeing no one else in sight, she let out a tiny, relieved sigh.
Then she remembered her anger.
“You bastard, what the hell do you think you’re doing!?”
“What do you take me for!?”
She glared at him, lips bitten red.
Darren simply savored the memory of that kiss, his eyes softening as he looked at the flushed woman before him. A surge of satisfaction rose in his chest.
“I thought I already answered that.”
Before Gion could find the words to unleash her fury, Darren’s eyes grew gentle, and he smiled:
“You’re the woman I love.”
All her resentment, all her bitterness—gone, vanished in an instant.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, barely daring to believe what she’d heard:
“You… you said… what?”
Darren smiled again.
“Come on. Let me show you something.”
He didn’t give her a chance to protest. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her slender waist and raised a hand.
In a single, fluid motion, a black blade shot through the air and landed with a quiet thud at Darren’s side.
“That blade…!”
Gion forgot all about struggling. She stared at the blade, her eyes wide with curiosity and awe.
“From the Wano country. One of the rare demon blades said to be able to ‘cut through hell itself’… Enma.”
Darren spoke casually, as if it were nothing special, then added:
“Don’t even think about taking it—it took me a lot of effort to tame this one.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 274: Chapter 176: Become My Woman
Summary:
"Desire, once set free, can no longer be caged."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I wouldn’t like that demon blade at all!”
Gion’s cheeks flushed slightly as though Darren had just exposed some carefully hidden thought.
She lifted her chin proudly, hand resting on the hilt of her golden blade.
“My Konpira is one of the Twenty-One Great Grade Blades!”
Darren couldn’t help but laugh.
“Alright, alright—I know you’re impressive.”
If he remembered correctly, that Konpira blade was a gift from Vice Admiral Tsuru for Gion’s fifteenth birthday.
At just fifteen years old, to wield one of the world’s greatest swords… it was like a teenager on Earth being given the keys to a limited-edition Lamborghini—one of only twenty-one in existence.
It really put everything in perspective.
At fifteen, what had he been wielding?
Probably a toilet brush, cleaning the latrines.
Still, there was a reason he wouldn’t let Gion touch Enma.
Given her current strength, she was nowhere near ready to tame Enma’s wild, overwhelming power. A single misstep could have it drain her Haki to nothing, threatening even her life.
Gion gave a little huff, but curiosity got the better of her. She turned her gaze to the motionless black blade, eyes sparkling.
“How did you summon it here?”
Darren gave her a sly smile.
“Did you forget about my Devil Fruit ability?”
He winked at her playfully.
“By now, I’d say I’m practically half a swordmaster myself.”
“You? A swordmaster?”
Gion looked at him as though he’d just cracked the worst joke in the world, her voice dripping with scorn:
“Your strength is impressive, I’ll give you that. But you don’t know the first thing about swordsmanship.”
Darren merely shrugged.
“Since when do you need to know swordsmanship to use a sword?”
He stepped closer, and before she could react, his arm slid around her waist. In the same breath, he planted a foot atop Enma’s blade.
“You… you wouldn’t dare…”
Gion’s eyes went wide, realizing just what he was about to do.
“That’s a priceless treasure—!”
“Hold on tight!”
Boom!
Under the force of Darren’s magnetic field, the two of them shot skyward, balanced precariously atop the legendary demon blade.
One minute later.
They landed in a deserted corner of Marineford’s abandoned harbor, the night air thick with salt and the hush of distant waves.
“You reckless bastard! You don’t respect the blade at all!”
Gion was practically spitting with rage, glaring at the way Darren treated Enma as if it were just another tool.
“You’ve no idea what it cost me to make it obey,” Darren said, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
Knowing she wouldn’t get anywhere arguing with him, Gion finally gave a huff and turned to take in their surroundings.
The night was intoxicatingly beautiful. Before them stretched the endless sea, moonlight flickering across the waves like a river of stars.
Far away, the civilian quarter sparkled with light and laughter, a world away from the quiet solitude of this empty dock.
“What did you bring me here for?”
Gion frowned, suspicious.
“It’s New Year’s Eve. Thought you might want to see the fireworks.”
Darren gave her a warm smile.
“But the fireworks are all back in the civilian district. There’s nothing here—”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence.
In that instant, the far horizon lit up with a burst of fiery orange.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
One after another, bright orange flares bloomed against the inky sky, raining down like long shimmering ribbons of fire. The dark world was bathed in color and light.
“This is…”
Gion’s eyes went wide in disbelief. She squinted to see, and realized that in the darkness, shells loaded in the old artillery emplacements were arcing up into the night—each one bursting into a blossom of fire.
She turned to look at Darren, stunned.
Tiny arcs of electricity flickered at his fingertips.
These fireworks… he’d created them himself, manipulating the shells into a dazzling display.
Gion stared at him, her heart caught in her throat.
The fireworks burned bright.
But in that moment, the Marine commodore’s smile was even more dazzling than the sky.
“Happy New Year.”
Darren’s voice was soft, tinged with laughter.
“Don’t get mad at me for wasting military resources. This port’s been abandoned for years—these shells were just gathering dust…”
He didn’t get to finish. Warm lips pressed against his in a sudden, breathless kiss.
It was like a spark, a firestorm.
“Take me.”
Gion’s ragged whisper trembled against his lips.
Darren’s mind went blank, the words stuttering on his tongue.
“Uh… I still need to get back—”
Gion’s fingers dug into his side, her voice low and fierce:
“Are you even a man?”
Darren blinked.
Then he clenched his jaw.
And in the next moment, he bent down, pulling her into a deeper, searing kiss.
Above them, the shells burst and flared like falling stars.
The ocean stretched out, vast and endless. Two white fish leapt from the water, tails flicking up silver waves that rippled across the sea.
…
No one knew how much time passed.
On the deserted edge of the harbor, the fireworks had long since faded, leaving only the eternal murmur of the waves.
A man and woman sat together on the pier, clothes scattered carelessly around them.
Darren’s broad, scarred chest was bare to the cold night air, a cigarette clutched between his lips.
Gion sat quietly beside him, wrapped in his cloak, gazing out across the dark water.
The salty breeze tugged at her hair. Her long, pale legs dangled over the edge, white high-heeled sandals slipping from her feet, delicate toes exposed to the night.
“So… what does this make us?”
Her voice was quiet, edged with a shy tremor, a lingering flush still warming her cheeks.
Darren let out a long breath, smoke curling from his lips.
He knew there could be no hesitation in his answer. His voice was firm, unyielding:
“Be my woman.”
He crushed the cigarette under his heel and reached out to gently cradle her face.
“I like you.”
Gion’s cheeks bloomed crimson, her heart hammering in her chest. She bit her lip, forcing out a half-playful, half-nervous retort:
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
Darren’s answer was immediate, unwavering.
“Hmph! I have a sharp tongue and a bad temper.”
Gion snorted.
Darren: …
Alright. Women really did hold grudges.
“In my eyes, those are just some of your most endearing traits.”
The words slipped out of him with an easy grin.
Gion pouted, but her voice had softened.
“Che… I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”
But she didn’t pull away.
Darren just laughed and took her hand.
“Come on. Let me take you home.”
Gion arched an eyebrow, voice dripping with frost:
“And then? You’re going to run right back to your perfect, gentle wife?”
“Uh…”
Darren’s lips twitched.
Before he could answer, Gion was on him again.
Her strong legs wrapped around his waist, pinning him down.
She loomed over him, her eyes burning with a fierce, competitive light.
“I won’t let you go so easily.”
“Wait—”
Darren’s face drained of color.
…
An hour later.
Darren limped back into the Officers’ Residential Compound, one hand braced against the wall for support, a wry grimace twisting his lips.
He pushed the door open, only for his face to freeze.
Amatsuki Toki stood poised before a screen, draped in a pink kimono adorned with cherry blossoms, her smile warm and welcoming.
(🌸 Bellion001: Should I perhaps be writing her name as “Rogers Toki” instead? (≧◡≦)✿)
“Welcome home, my dear. Let me take care of you tonight.”
Darren’s face went slack for a moment.
Then, with an awkward smile that was more grimace than grin, he managed a single word:
“…Alright.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
A reader named Ibrahim4649999 once said, “He really gonna need the medicine after this.”
I have to admit—I’m right there with him! (¬_¬”)
Chapter 275: Chapter 177: How About… Infusing It with Haki?
Summary:
"In the quiet between two heartbeats, the world’s laughter and longing both find their voice."
Chapter Text
Meanwhile.
Somewhere in the New World.
In the lawless zone of a neutral island.
A tavern.
“Hahaha!! It’s rare that Pops is treating us tonight—let’s drink till we drop!”
Marco, pineapple-haired and already flushed with drink, stood atop a table, raising his beer high in the air.
“Roar!!”
The other members of the Whitebeard Pirates cheered along, their laughter echoing off the walls as they clinked their cups together.
“Oi, oi, you lot—!”
Whitebeard himself called out with a weary smile, but in the next moment, he was surrounded by his rowdy sons, swept up in the merriment as if he had never tried to protest.
The tavern pulsed with life—people singing at the top of their lungs, some laughing until they were bent double, others drowning in drink and bursting into tears. A few simply sat back, quiet smiles on their faces as they watched their brothers revel.
“Hey, Oden! Don’t just sit there daydreaming—everyone’s having a blast! Come drink with us!”
Marco’s sharp eyes caught the sight of a lone figure in the corner. With a sudden grin, he stumbled over, draping an arm around the samurai’s shoulders.
“What’s got you so lost in thought?” he asked, his breath reeking of alcohol.
Kozuki Oden blinked, startled from his reverie. He looked up at Marco’s flushed, boisterous face and gave a wry smile.
“It’s nothing.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed, curiosity gleaming.
“You’re not homesick, are you?”
Oden threw back his head and laughed, the sound rolling out warm and clear.
“How could I be? Ever since I was young, I dreamed of setting out to sea—of becoming a pirate who would roam the world, tasting all the beauty this ocean has to offer. Staying in Wano would have been… too small a life for me.”
Marco frowned, his brow furrowing.
“If you’re not homesick, then why do you spend so much time alone, staring out at the sea like that?”
Oden waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing, really. Just… lost in thought.”
Marco gave him a long, searching look, suspicion glimmering in his eyes.
“Could it be… you’re still brooding about losing to that Marine—Darren, was it?”
He let out a low whistle.
“That guy’s no joke. He even managed to destroy Kaido’s stronghold and take down monsters like Byrnndi World… losing to him isn’t shameful. You’ll have a chance to beat him next time.”
Oden just laughed, a bright, easy sound.
“Of course I know that. If anything, his strength proved to me that I was right to set out to sea. If I’d stayed in Wano, I would’ve spent my whole life never meeting someone that strong.”
His hand drifted almost absently to the hilt of the Ame-no-Habakiri at his hip. His eyes gleamed with fierce determination.
“The next time we meet, I’ll win. And I’ll take Enma back from him.”
Hanging at his waist alongside his beloved blade was a black scabbard that gleamed in the lamplight.
Marco watched the samurai’s proud, unbowed expression and found himself even more puzzled.
If it wasn’t the defeat to Darren that weighed on him… then what was it?
As the Whitebeard Pirates’ “caretaker,” Marco was always the one who paid attention to the little details the big, rough Pops might miss.
He watched Oden take a long pull of his drink, a frown furrowing his brow. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he leaned in, his voice low and teasing.
“Tell me… you’re not pining after a woman, are you?”
Pfft!
Oden spat a mouthful of beer straight into Marco’s face.
His face flushed crimson, and he started coughing and sputtering, eyes wide.
“I-I am not!!”
Marco wiped the beer from his face, a look of resigned exasperation twisting his lips.
Come on, man… you’re not fooling anyone.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it? The pretty one… what was her name—Amatsuki Toki?”
Oden hesitated for just a moment, then let out a long, quiet sigh.
“I don’t even understand it myself…”
He scratched his head sheepishly.
“She and I were barely acquaintances. But when I saw her being taken away by that Marine… it felt like I’d lost something important. Something I didn’t even realize I’d been searching for.”
…
The bedroom was in disarray.
White socks, a discarded kimono, a purple sash—all scattered across the floor, the air itself heavy with a languid, intoxicating heat.
Darren dragged himself upright, one hand pressed against his lower back, the other gently pulling a blanket over the peacefully sleeping Toki.
He took a long look at the contented smile that curved her lips even in sleep, and let out a quiet sigh, his voice a tired murmur:
“Talk about a trial by fire…”
In nothing but a pair of shorts, he slumped down onto the wooden doorstep, lighting a cigarette as he leaned forward, chin resting on his hand.
“Maybe… maybe I really do need to go see Yamakaji.”
But he shook his head almost immediately, a shiver running down his spine.
No. Absolutely not.
Yamakaji might not be the sort to gossip, but a guy that mild-mannered and sweet? There’s no way he could keep something like this to himself.
And if word ever got out—he’d never live it down.
Not that his reputation at headquarters was all that stellar to begin with.
Still… there was no way he could let this be the thing that defined him. A man had his pride—no matter what.
“I’ll have to think of something else… Life Return? Nah, that’s more about injuries, not… this.”
He took a thoughtful drag on the cigarette, fingers absently stroking the stubble on his chin.
“How about… infusing it with Armament Haki?”
The thought lit a spark in his eyes.
That… that might just work.
Heh. If the founder of Armament Haki could see what it was being used for centuries later… they’d probably be turning in their grave.
The idea brought a faint smile to his lips.
He let his mind drift, smoke curling around him as he gazed up at the starlit sky.
From the bedroom behind him came the steady, peaceful rhythm of Toki’s breathing. The sound wrapped around him, a gentle balm to the turmoil in his heart.
Under the soft glow of the lamplight, he found himself smiling.
How long had it been since he’d felt this kind of quiet, contented happiness?
He couldn’t even remember.
Battle, bloodshed, desire, ambition, wealth, schemes… his past life lay before him in fragments, a blur of memories that once burned bright and now seemed impossibly distant.
The cigarette burned down to a stub.
He stubbed it out and rinsed his mouth, then slipped back into the room and into bed, pulling Toki close in the darkness.
Looking down at her sleeping face—so peaceful, so full of joy—he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered:
“Happy New Year.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 276: Chapter 178: Want to Learn?
Summary:
"Strength beyond words—like a quiet sea that can still sink a ship."
Chapter Text
January 1st, Sea Circle Calendar Year 1493.
Admiral Sengoku was absolutely livid.
“What the hell happened!?”
“All the ammunition stockpiled at the abandoned D1 harbor—gone!?”
Inside the admiral’s office, Sengoku roared at the messenger, spittle flying as he bellowed.
He was beside himself with frustration.
Ever since Dragon’s “defection,” Marine Headquarters had seen their budget slashed by the World Government. On top of that, scrubbing all traces of Dragon’s past and dealing with the political fallout had left Sengoku, as an admiral, battered from every side.
The Fleet Admiral’s seat—so close he could taste it—had slipped away just like that. And he’d had to bite his tongue and comfort Garp, that infuriating old man.
But who the hell was going to comfort him?
The D1 harbor might have been abandoned, and its ammunition stockpile small, but at a time like this—every last bullet counted.
So the second this news reached his ears, Sengoku was ready to explode.
“Admiral Sengoku…” the messenger stammered, trying to keep his voice steady as he watched Sengoku’s face darken even further.
“We checked, and the ammo wasn’t stolen—it was detonated.”
“Detonated?” Sengoku’s brows shot up.
The young messenger swallowed, trying not to flinch at the rising fury in Sengoku’s tone.
“Last night… someone saw fireworks over D1 harbor.”
“Many civilians thought it was some kind of New Year’s celebration organized by Headquarters…”
Sengoku ground his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.
The veins on his forehead stood out in sharp relief, pulsing with barely restrained rage. The messenger, eyes wide, blurted out quickly:
“Early this morning, a soldier reported that Commodore Rogers Darren admitted to using that stockpile.”
“Darren?”
Sengoku’s eyes widened in shock, then his face went red with fury.
“That damned brat! Has he lost his mind!?”
“That was good ammunition, and he used it for fireworks!?”
“Does he think this is his private North Blue!?”
His rant was cut off as he noticed something in the messenger’s hand.
“Hold on… what’s that?”
The trembling messenger held out an envelope.
It was already open, and inside was a banknote.
One of the world’s many banks—this one under the World Government’s direct control. A note of credit.
“Commodore Darren said he used the ammo to please his beloved. He’s willing to compensate for every last expense… and offers his sincerest apologies for any inconvenience caused.”
The messenger bowed deeply, holding out the note.
Sengoku’s eyes fell on the endless string of zeros written there. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally accepted the envelope in silence.
For a moment, all his anger seemed to drain away.
He coughed lightly and cleared his throat, the iron fury in his voice replaced by calm authority:
“Very well. Let it go this time. After all… love is important.”
“Tell that reckless boy not to make such a scene again.”
“Yes, Admiral Sengoku,” the messenger said quickly, bowing again, not daring to meet Sengoku’s eyes.
Sengoku’s expression shifted.
“Oh—Darren should be back at the training camp today, shouldn’t he?”
The messenger nodded.
“No, sir. Early this morning, Vice Admiral Garp sent someone to summon him.”
Garp, huh…?
Sengoku paused, then waved a hand dismissively.
“Alright. You may go.”
The messenger bowed one last time and hurried out, his hand slipping into his pocket to check the roll of bills he’d been given—a little “thank you” for his trouble.
As the door closed behind him, Sengoku stood silent for a long moment. Finally, he pulled out the note again.
He let out a low, exasperated curse.
“That spendthrift brat… blowing two hundred million berries on fireworks!”
———
Darren was nervous as hell.
He stood at the edge of the same abandoned harbor where he’d put on that “fireworks show” the night before, facing the thunderous, storm-like presence of Vice Admiral Garp.
Every muscle in his body was on edge.
His mind was racing.
Was Garp here to chew him out for laying a beating on Dragon?
Or… had word of his relationship with Gion finally reached the old man, and now Garp was here to “settle accounts”?
As his thoughts spun in frantic circles, the towering figure of Garp took a single step forward, closing the distance without a word.
Heavy footfalls. Clenched fists. That oppressive aura—like a mountain ready to crush him flat.
Darren’s throat bobbed as he forced out a nervous laugh.
“Uh… Vice Admiral Garp, sir… what can I do for you?”
“I swear, I didn’t do anything. Everything I’ve done was under Admiral Sengoku’s orders, so if there’s a problem—”
He backpedaled instinctively, every survival instinct in his body screaming at him to get away.
Normally, he wouldn’t have flinched from anyone.
But this was Garp.
The man who stood at the absolute pinnacle of the Marines’ fighting strength.
And on top of everything else, his own son had just defected. Garp had to be fuming inside, probably dying to let off some steam.
Most terrifying of all, Garp was the one Marine who didn’t give a damn about rules or politics.
And Darren? After last night, his back and hips were already aching enough—he wasn’t sure he could take a pounding on top of that.
He tried to edge away further, only to find his back pressed up against something hard.
He turned.
It was a massive, twenty-meter-tall battleship, abandoned and rusting in the harbor.
And in that same moment, he felt it—a crushing, suffocating pressure from straight ahead.
His heart slammed against his ribs, blood roaring in his ears.
His body coiled tight, instinctively snapping into fighting stance.
But when he looked up—
A single, ordinary-looking fist was swelling in his vision, growing larger and larger in the reflection of his widening pupils.
Darren’s eyes narrowed to pinpricks.
That punch—
He couldn’t even describe it.
No Haki. No elemental force. No wind, no fire—hell, it wasn’t even particularly fast.
But in that instant—
Darren felt something that was almost like despair.
He couldn’t block it. He couldn’t dodge it.
He just had to watch it coming.
The fist brushed past his hair, and—
Boom.
A muffled thud. Nothing more.
Like a child halfheartedly knocking on a wall with a toy stick.
And in the next breath—
BOOM!!
The battleship behind him exploded in a tidal wave of splintered wood and shattered iron, the shockwave tearing across the ground like a living thing, obliterating everything in its path—gun emplacements, fortifications, all of it gone in a heartbeat.
Gulp.
Darren swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow.
“V-Vice Admiral Garp—”
Before he could stammer out another word, Garp lifted his head.
He grinned.
“Want to learn? I’ll teach you.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 277: Chapter 179: Pure Power
Summary:
"True might is forged in the crucible of relentless trial—until nothing remains but the purest strength."
Chapter Text
It scared the hell out of me!
Darren’s lips twitched as he stared at the dog-headed cap atop Garp’s grinning face. He couldn’t help but grumble inwardly.
If you wanted to teach me your combat technique, you could’ve just said so! If you wanted to show off the power of the Iron Fist, a little warning would’ve been nice! Don’t scare me half to death…
But there was no denying the sheer, terrifying force of that single punch.
There had been no Armament Haki, no visible build-up of power, no explosive surge—hell, not even a hint of Conqueror’s Haki. It had looked like the simplest, most ordinary punch imaginable—yet the destruction it wrought was staggering.
The crushing sense of pressure, like a thousand-meter mountain collapsing in front of him, had left Darren convinced there was no way he could have blocked or avoided it.
It was the perfect fusion of overwhelming presence and exquisite technique.
He suspected it was not unlike Roger’s “Divine Departure”—different in form, perhaps, but the same in essence.
No wonder this man stood at the very summit of the sea.
“Vice Admiral Garp, what exactly do you mean?” Darren said at last, quickly gathering his scattered thoughts.
Garp slowly withdrew his fist and gave Darren’s shoulder a firm pat, a broad smile spreading across his face.
“You know, boy… I’ve always had a soft spot for you.”
He let out a long, deep breath, his eyes softening with a hint of nostalgia.
“I read the battle report. You did well. My boy’s… situation has caused you more trouble than it should have.”
So this was him repaying a debt?
The thought flickered across Darren’s mind, but he just smiled and shook his head.
“You’re too kind, Vice Admiral. Dragon’s a friend. I was only following Admiral Sengoku’s orders—nothing special.”
Garp threw back his head and let out a thunderous laugh.
“Bwahahahaha! That’s just it—you’re too cautious, too clever. If it weren’t for that insane hunger for battle I know you’re hiding deep down, I’d never think to teach you this.”
He paused for a moment, then grinned.
“Darren, you’re at a crossroads right now. So many of the world’s strongest men get stuck at this point, never able to push past it.”
He straightened, his chest swelling with pride.
“I don’t know how much you’ll be able to take from me. But I promise you this—”
His grin widened, eyes glinting.
“I’m a hell of a better teacher than Zephyr ever was!”
Darren: …
Why do I get the feeling that’s your main motivation here?
Still, he had to admit—while Garp’s “training style” was far from refined, even bordering on reckless at times, the results spoke for themselves.
Kuzan was the perfect example.
In the original history, Kuzan had already learned everything the training camp could offer while still young. It was Garp who took him under his wing, pushing him to the absolute limits of his potential—until he became one of the world’s top powers.
And later, on Hachinosu itself, those two had clashed in a battle worthy of legends—master and student, testing each other to the brink.
Another of Garp’s disciples was Koby.
After two years of Garp’s brutal, hands-on training, Koby had gone from a greenhorn who could only cry out for peace during the Summit War… to a trusted member of the Marine’s elite secret force “SWORD,” a man who shone brightly in that same climactic battle on Hachinosu.
Sure, Oda’s hand had “strengthened” Koby a bit along the way—but it didn’t change the fact that Garp’s methods got results.
More than that, Darren had always harbored a quiet envy of Garp’s martial prowess.
He might have mastered his “Magnetic Blade Dominion” and the terrifying “Magnetic Overload — Railgun,” but at the end of the day… it was the body—the raw, honed power of one’s fists—that decided the final outcome of a true clash between titans.
“Thank you, Vice Admiral Garp.”
Darren dropped the polite refusal, his voice calm and resolute.
“Bwahahahaha! That’s more like it!” Garp roared with laughter.
“Come on—this way.”
He led Darren across the abandoned port, past where massive, mid-sized marine ships lay stranded in the shallows.
They were old, retired vessels—heavy guns stripped from their decks, valuable materials already picked clean. All that remained were the battered hulls, the faint echo of their former glory.
Time had left them covered in cobwebs. Rust crusted their anchors and scarred their iron sides. They slumped in the water, relics of countless battles long since ended.
Such abandoned ships were a common sight in Marine Headquarters.
In naval warfare, there was no more direct or effective tactic than smashing your enemy’s hull. Pirates did it, too. Every year, dozens of warships met their end—decommissioned, scrapped, or left to rot.
Maintenance, weapons, outfitting, daily upkeep—it was an endless drain of resources.
As the head of the North Blue Fleet, Darren understood better than anyone just how much it cost to keep a powerful navy afloat. No wonder Sengoku spent half his days tearing his hair out over the budget.
“Tell me, boy,” Garp said suddenly, breaking Darren’s thoughts. He lifted his gaze to the towering hulks of the derelict ships.
“What do you think is the greatest strength on this sea?”
Darren blinked. But before he could answer, Garp went on:
“Is it the Devil Fruits—those miraculous powers beyond understanding?”
“Or is it Haki—the force that can touch even the most intangible foes?”
“Or maybe it’s the Conqueror’s Haki—the will that can shake the hearts of men?”
“No,” Garp said flatly, shaking his head.
“None of those.”
Darren’s brow furrowed in thought.
“Then what do you believe it is, Vice Admiral?”
A slow smile spread across Garp’s face.
He raised his right hand, fingers curling into a tight fist.
In that instant, Darren caught a flicker of black-red lightning—there, then gone, snuffed out as if it had never been.
But in Garp’s eyes, there was a blazing certainty, a quiet, unshakable pride.
“It’s forged in a thousand battles—pure, unadulterated strength.”
He spoke softly, but every word echoed in Darren’s bones.
“All those powers—they’re just pieces. On their own, they’re impressive, sure. But only when you forge them together, when you refine them in the crucible of endless battle… only then do they become something more.”
He turned, eyes locking with Darren’s.
“Your body’s already something remarkable. You’re as strong as those born monsters.”
“But your strength—”
He shook his head, almost wistful.
“It isn’t pure. When you strike, all those powers of yours don’t blend. They don’t come together as one.”
He grinned again, teeth white against the weathered bronze of his skin.
“That’s what I’m going to teach you.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 278: Chapter 180: Did You Understand?
Summary:
"Strength alone is nothing without mastery."
Chapter Text
The thousand-fold tempered... pure power?
Are you sure it’s not just a “serious punch”?
Darren silently grumbled to himself.
But hearing Garp’s firm, resolute words, he forced himself to settle down and chew on their meaning, his brow gradually furrowing in thought.
Indeed, just as Garp said, his combat power was, to a large extent, simply “piled up.”
Using his formidable physique as the foundation, he had stacked layer upon layer of Armament Haki, various lethal techniques, and even Devil Fruit powers on top of that—like constructing a fortress from blocks.
The result was a crude, brute-force “fighting machine” that relied on little more than his overwhelming strength and physique.
But in actual battle, had he truly been able to harness this powerful physique to its fullest potential?
Were his physique, strength, and speed seamlessly integrated and working in harmony with his Haki and Devil Fruit abilities?
Had his maximum combat potential really been unleashed to its absolute limit?
Before hearing these words from Garp, Darren had never even considered such questions.
Because of his innate perception abilities, all of his past training had focused on precisely and methodically improving each “stat” on his personal panel.
He had tempered his physique through resistance training, enduring battering and even lightning itself.
He had enhanced his strength by hauling warships in extreme, grueling conditions.
He had refined his speed by dodging bullets and training for explosive short-range bursts.
Nearly all of his training had been laser-focused and goal-oriented.
And this method wasn’t bad—on the contrary, it had an outstanding advantage: Darren could use the data panel to clearly identify his shortcomings and constantly seek new ways to break through his limits.
Undoubtedly, this was the most efficient, fastest way to improve his strength in the early stages.
However!
Could this method truly create a top-tier powerhouse?
Not very likely.
A figure from the original Dressrosa arc involuntarily popped into Darren’s mind.
—The king of Prodence Kingdom, Elizabello II.
That man was no weakling, known far and wide as the “Fighting King.”
It was said that he could unleash a mighty punch, the “King Punch,” with his naturally herculean physique.
With just a single blow, he could instantly punch through the enemy’s fortress—a move so devastating that even one of the Four Emperors, if struck head-on, would likely fall dead on the spot.
So was he weak?
Judging by the sheer destructive power of that “King Punch,” Darren suspected it might truly be enough to wound a Yonko.
Yet to unleash that punch, Elizabello II needed at least an hour of warm-up to coax that colossal power from his body.
In real combat, that was as good as useless.
By the time he finished warming up, who knows how many times he’d have died already?
Elizabello II’s situation was, in a way, similar to Darren’s: both possessed enormous power, yet neither could fully bring it to bear.
Like a fortress bristling with weapons, but sloppily manned and vulnerable.
To put it in modern terms, it was like having a high-performance race car—boasting a powerful engine, a superb chassis, and the best transmission—but lacking a skilled technician to tune it.
The only difference was that Darren’s shortcomings weren’t as glaringly obvious.
Now, what Garp was saying was to help Darren thoroughly fuse and integrate all his strength and abilities.
—To combine every ounce of his power… to unleash the full potential of this supercar that was Darren!
“So that’s it…”
Darren murmured softly, his eyes gradually brightening.
“Then what should I do?”
He looked at Garp with growing excitement.
“Watch closely.”
Garp let out a hearty “Bwahahahaha,” took a step forward, and huffed a warm breath onto his fist. His eyes narrowed, and he slammed his fist toward the warship in front of him.
Boom!!
The entire battleship shuddered violently, and countless fragments exploded outward from where his fist landed.
“Did you understand?” Garp turned his head, smiling broadly.
Darren: ……
Understand? Like hell I did!!
Wasn’t this just the difference between a serious punch and a normal punch?
His head filled with dark lines, he felt an overwhelming urge to grumble.
Yet when he saw the proud, almost smug expression on Garp’s face—so convinced of his own teaching—Darren’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
What the hell is this—like that damn rooster strutting around in Pudong!
Just like Kaido… fancy names for techniques, but in essence, it was nothing more than horizontal swings, vertical swings, hard swings, and even harder swings!!
“Mm! I knew it—old man never misjudges a man’s worth! You’re perfectly suited to inherit my mantle! Bwahahahaha!!”
Garp, seeing Darren stay silent, thought he had truly grasped the lesson. Unable to contain his glee, he clapped a heavy hand on Darren’s shoulder and threw back his head in laughter.
“Um… Vice Admiral Garp, have you tried teaching this move to anyone else?” Darren asked, his mouth twitching slightly.
At this, Garp scratched his head and chuckled sheepishly.
“Well, sort of. I tried telling my brat about it, but he didn’t seem to get it. He ended up off tinkering with his damn ‘claws’ instead.”
“And then there’s Sakazuki… Hmph, much as I can’t stand that bastard’s way of doing things, he is an important talent in the Marines… Only thing is, right as I finished explaining it, that damned kid turned on his heel and ran away without saying a word!”
He suddenly launched into a string of curses.
“Infuriating, I tell you! I laid out the strongest technique right before their eyes, explained it crystal clear, and they still couldn’t grasp it!”
Darren: ……
Well… not grasping it seems like the most normal reaction, actually.
“All right, since you’ve got it now, let’s begin!”
Garp shook his head and looked at Darren with bright, eager eyes.
He pointed at the battleship in front of them.
“True hero’s strength doesn’t come from nowhere. Only through a thousand-fold tempering can the greatest be forged!”
“No Devil Fruit abilities allowed, no Haki either… Control your strength—pour every bit of your energy, spirit, and will into every single punch…”
“This battleship… will be your punching bag!!”
———
At that same time.
At the training camp’s drill ground.
Zephyr looked at the neatly assembled ranks of students before him, his brow suddenly furrowing as he asked:
“Where’s that brat Darren? Didn’t he already return to headquarters? Where did he run off to?”
Everyone froze, glancing at each other, then all shook their heads in confusion.
“Maybe he ran off somewhere to chase skirts…” The cadet at the front of the formation, Tokikake, curled his lip and muttered.
He turned to the woman next to him, Gion, and gave a cheeky grin.
“Anyway, with a disgrace like him, who expects anything decent? Am I right, Gion?”
Gion’s face remained utterly blank. She stared at him for a moment, then slowly spoke:
“Darren may be a bit of a flirt, but he’s not a bad person.”
Tokikake’s eyes flew wide open. He stared at her, dumbfounded.
Gion… was actually defending Darren!?
He looked as if he’d just seen a ghost, unable to believe what he was hearing.
But before he could say another word, Zephyr suddenly let out a startled, furious roar.
“What!?”
“That damned brat got called away by Garp!?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 279: Chapter 181: A Serious Punch
Summary:
"To master one’s power is to tame a storm within."
Chapter Text
“Focus your mind!!”
“Every single punch must embody the will of victory and justice!”
“Only a strike filled with unwavering confidence can truly bring together all your scattered abilities!!”
Beneath the blazing sun.
In the abandoned port cluttered with all manner of military debris, a black-clad figure stood under the scorching rays, his ragged breathing like that of a ferocious beast as he launched himself at the towering twenty-meter battleship in front of him, punching with unbridled fury.
He was shirtless, his upper body exposed, scars of every shape and size crisscrossing his rugged torso. His features were carved in harsh, unyielding lines, sweat dripping in rivulets from his black hair and down his jaw.
His bronze skin glistened under the sunlight, his entire presence radiating a wild, rebellious energy.
Each punch fell with the force of a coiled steel cable snapping taut, sending deep, muffled shockwaves through the air and causing the massive vessel to shudder violently.
Not far away, Garp was lounging under a makeshift beach umbrella, wearing a floral shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. Reclining comfortably on a sun chair, he nursed a glass of fruit juice in one hand, munching on a donut with the other, occasionally barking out a few sharp corrections.
“I told you—no Haki!”
“I’m not using Haki, dammit!!” Darren snapped back irritably.
This old bastard—he had started out pretending to train alongside him, only to reveal his true colors a few days later.
Out of nowhere, he’d lugged over a beach umbrella and a recliner, plopped himself down, and hadn’t moved since.
“Bwahahahaha! I know you’re not using Haki—I’m just reminding you.”
Garp let out a hearty laugh, utterly shameless.
Darren ground his teeth together, glaring at Garp’s leisurely posture. The sight made him so mad he couldn’t help but redouble his efforts, fists flying with renewed fury.
Bang, bang, bang!
He let all his simmering frustration pour into the already battered hull of the battleship.
Splinters of wood and jagged shards of metal flew in every direction, the brutal pounding even making the ground beneath his feet tremble.
This kid’s a real monster…
Garp took a long sip of his icy fruit juice, squinting with satisfaction as he watched Darren’s explosive power—like a predator in mid-pounce. Even though he’d long since witnessed Darren’s strength and heard of his monstrous physique, seeing it up close in these last few days still caught him off guard.
He was impervious to blades and bullets, water and fire, his body seemingly tougher than steel itself. Even bullets and cannon fire had no effect.
Garp had tested that himself.
He’d called it “testing physical limits,” but really, he was just curious—so he’d taken to lobbing cannonballs bare-handed at Darren, bombarding him from every angle.
And the result?
After one barrage, Darren’s uniform was tattered and smoking, the ground around him caved in by nearly a meter. Yet he stood there as if nothing had happened, unflinching.
What did that mean?
Garp’s gaze lingered on Darren’s relentless form, two brutal figures flashing through his mind.
—Kaido and Big Mom.
“Never thought the Marines would produce a monster like this… Maybe the kid’s not even human—some strange, unknown bloodline?”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin, eyes narrowed with curiosity.
“Maybe I should have that bastard Borsalino check him out?”
The idea popped into his head, but he quickly dismissed it.
“Forget it. Doesn’t really matter.”
He took another bite of his donut, eyes fixed once more on Darren’s movement.
Hm. He’s already starting to get the hang of it—his power is clearly more focused than before.
Have to admit, this brat’s working hard.
A slow, satisfied smile curved Garp’s lips.
What truly pleased him about Darren wasn’t just his superhuman physique—it was his spirit, as unyielding as steel.
Garp knew just how brutal the training he’d set up really was. No ordinary man could have endured it.
Yet Darren had completely exceeded his expectations.
No matter how much he sweated, no matter how exhausted he was, he never once said “I’m tired.”
In his bones was a relentless desire to grow stronger—stubborn, determined, even bordering on obsession.
“Maybe… maybe he really will master it in the end…”
A flicker of light shone in Garp’s eyes as he let out a quiet laugh.
At that moment, a young Marine soldier ran up, panting as he saluted Garp.
“Vice Admiral Garp, sir! Instructor Zephyr says it’s time.”
Garp rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He set down his donut and juice, calling out to Darren:
“Hey, kid, that’s enough! Time to head over to Zephyr!”
Darren didn’t answer. His fists moved faster still.
Like a raging storm, his punches pounded into the battleship’s battered hull, shaking it to the core.
“Oh?” Garp’s brow rose, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
And then—
Darren let out a roar, his eyes growing sharp, power gathering in his legs as every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.
His entire body moved with the precision of a finely tuned machine, channeling every last drop of that power up his spine and down his arm.
He threw a punch!
Bang!!
A dull, heavy thud resounded.
But this time, there was no trembling in the battleship’s hull.
It was perfectly still.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
As Darren stood there panting, as Garp’s eyes shone with excitement, as the young Marine soldier watched in stunned awe—
The shattered husk of the battleship suddenly exploded into a cloud of debris!
“Bwahahahaha!! Excellent!!” Garp leapt to his feet, hands on his hips, roaring with laughter.
“Old man’s teaching methods never fail! Though you’re still a long way from truly mastering it, you’re already showing signs of that power!!”
Darren looked at the proud expression on Garp’s face and didn’t even bother to retort.
Exhausted, he walked over and draped a wide Marine coat over his shoulders, glancing at the young Marine who still stood there frozen.
“Let’s go,” he said simply.
The young Marine gulped, tearing his gaze from the ruin around them and quickly falling in step behind Darren.
After a moment, he couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer. In a low, cautious voice, he asked:
“Commodore Darren… What’s the name of that move you just used?”
Darren paused for a moment.
He tilted his head back, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one.
Cool wind rustled around him, white smoke curling about his face in a shroud of mystery.
The Marine held his breath, waiting silently.
Looking at Darren’s solemn, almost solitary figure, he knew that this technique’s name would be something fearsome and awe-inspiring.
“This move…” Darren exhaled a stream of smoke and said calmly,
“—It’s called ‘A Serious Punch.’”
The young Marine looked like he’d been struck by lightning.
????
---
To be continued…
Chapter 280: Chapter 182: I Want to Learn Observation Haki
Summary:
"True growth begins when the spirit demands more than the body can give."
Chapter Text
Whether that last punch had truly been a “serious punch” or not, Darren wasn’t entirely sure.
Garp’s training methods had no logic to them whatsoever—bizarre, eccentric, and far beyond anything Darren could comprehend.
He followed along anyway, simply because he trusted this “strongest Marine.” Step by step, he trained in Garp’s unorthodox style.
After all, training was training. At his current level of strength, those punishing exercises that pushed his physical limits no longer did much to raise his “stats.”
But in the instant he threw that final punch, Darren felt as if he had glimpsed something.
It was a fleeting spark of inspiration—a sensation he couldn’t chase down or force, a momentary union of body and mind.
For that one breath, it felt as though everything around him vanished.
His senses tightened, as if he’d suddenly peered through a powerful telescope—his focus sharpened to a razor’s edge.
The noise of the world receded, and his mind fell utterly silent.
Though his body was worn to the bone, power surged up from within him with perfect, natural ease, like a spring bursting from the earth.
In that instant, there was nothing else.
Only the punch.
A strike to win—an indomitable blow!
By the time he returned to himself, the battleship before him was already shattered, reduced to ruin and scrap.
What kind of power was that?
As he made his way toward the training camp, his thoughts kept turning over and over in his mind.
If he had to describe it, that punch hadn’t been about some special technique or stacking different abilities together. It wasn’t even raw, brute-force power. It was something deeper—a state he could barely grasp.
—A perfect unity of mind, body, and technique!!
Maybe… that’s the key to mastering Conqueror’s Haki infusion?
The idea struck him out of nowhere.
He’d awakened his Conqueror’s Haki some time ago. He could control its outpouring at will, intimidating his enemies.
But he’d never figured out how to wrap that power around his strikes.
He mentally replayed the sensation and mindset of that last punch, trying to recapture that elusive flash of insight.
He knew it was only an accident, a fleeting moment.
The true mastery of that kind of control over his entire body was still an incredibly distant goal.
But Darren wasn’t in any rush.
He was patient by nature, always understanding that some things can’t be forced—they need time and steady effort to take shape.
Lost in these thoughts, he stepped through the training camp gates and into the courtyard.
Zephyr was already there, draped in his Justice coat and waiting.
“Finished Garp’s training, have you?” Zephyr asked gruffly, a cigar clamped between his teeth.
Darren gave a small smile and nodded.
“Yes, Zephyr-sensei.”
“Hmph! That bastard Garp, dragging you off without a word!” Zephyr spat, anger flickering across his face.
“He doesn’t even think—how much can you possibly learn from that half-assed teaching style of his!?” he rumbled. “Even his own kid didn’t want to train under him!”
Clearly, Zephyr had no love for Garp’s so-called methods.
Darren just smiled and let it go. He still remembered the day he’d first started training with Garp, how Zephyr had stormed over in fury. The two of them had nearly come to blows right then and there.
Well, actually… they had.
“You know nothing about teaching!”
“I know everything, you old fart!”
“Even your own son won’t learn from you!”
“Bullshit!!”
“I’m the head instructor here!”
“I could beat you with one arm!”
“Bullshit!”
“You wanna settle this?”
“You’re out of your damn mind!!”
Then they’d stripped to the waist and gone at it like wild animals, turning the entire port upside down.
In the end, the commotion had grown so loud that Sengoku and Tsuru had to come down personally to drag the two of them apart—both of them bruised, bloodied, and cursing like sailors.
The final compromise? Darren would train under both of them.
Mornings with Garp, afternoons with Zephyr.
Of course, even deciding who got which time slot had been another drawn-out argument.
After all, everyone knew mornings were when the body was fresh and strong—training would always be more effective.
Zephyr gave a dismissive grunt, then turned a sharp look on Darren.
“Tell me the truth, kid. With all this high-intensity training, are you really holding up?”
Darren hesitated for a moment, then nodded calmly.
“I don’t feel there’s much of a problem.”
Zephyr’s brow furrowed slightly as he opened his Observation Haki to sense Darren’s presence. Satisfied, he gave a small nod.
“Good,” he said. “If anything starts to feel wrong, say it immediately. Don’t let your body end up paying the price later.”
Then his expression shifted, and he added abruptly:
“And watch yourself with… you know… that.”
That?
Darren blinked, then realized what Zephyr meant, and his mouth twitched.
“Ahem… Anyway, today’s training will be light. Consider it a half-day break,” Zephyr said, moving briskly to the real topic.
“You’re already far ahead of the rest of the recruits here. Given your current level, the usual drills are basically meaningless.”
“Rather than just piling on more exercises, it’s better to fill in the gaps in your skills—shore up your weaknesses.”
“So tell me, Darren—what do you want to work on? Anything you want to learn?”
Darren fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then he looked up, his voice steady and firm.
“Zephyr-sensei, I want to learn Observation Haki.”
“Observation Haki, huh? That’s certainly a useful— Wait. You mean… you haven’t awakened it yet!?” Zephyr’s words stumbled out in surprise, his eyes snapping to Darren.
“That’s right…” Darren said with a wry smile.
He remembered more than one awkward moment in the past—facing off against monsters without the power to truly read their moves. His eye twitched at the memory.
“But… that can’t be right,” Zephyr murmured, frowning deeply. “If you didn’t have Observation Haki, how the hell did you fight guys like Byrnndi World and Kaido? You shouldn’t even be able to see their attacks coming.”
“It’s because of this…” Darren raised his hand, electricity crackling between his fingers.
“My Devil Fruit is the Magnet-Magnet Fruit. I can generate a magnetic field strong enough to sense the magnetic signatures of living things. It’s similar to Observation Haki in effect… though in actual combat, it’s not as precise.”
He paused, then added with a faint smile:
“And even if I can’t dodge, I can still take a few hits from them head-on. I’m not going to die.”
Zephyr: ……
Well… he had to admit. That did make sense.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 281: Chapter 183: You Shouldn't Even Be Able to Stand Right Now, Should You?
Summary:
"Only when strength is stripped away can instinct rise."
Chapter Text
Looking at Darren’s unbothered expression—like a “dead pig unafraid of boiling water”—Zephyr’s mouth twitched slightly.
He was so used to dealing with normal people that he sometimes forgot just how absurd this brat’s physical resilience really was.
But then another thought struck him.
“…Something’s not right. With your level of strength, you should’ve naturally awakened Observation Haki by now.”
He rubbed the stubbled edge of his chin, a flicker of doubt flashing in his eyes.
Darren shrugged, a little helpless.
Observation Haki wasn’t quite like Armament Haki. It was a power of “listening.”
It granted the user the ability to sense the “presence” or “voice” of others—allowing them to detect enemies outside their field of view, anticipate their next movements, even gauge their numbers and positions.
It could also perceive the strength, emotions, and thoughts of living beings, though the precision and range varied from person to person.
And some, with unusual sensitivity, were born with it already awakened.
Among the rare few, some even developed utterly extraordinary powers through Observation Haki.
For instance, Darren remembered from the original history that Queen Otohime of Fishman Island’s Ryugu Kingdom could influence people’s emotions and thoughts through her enhanced Observation Haki.
Or “Red the Aloof,” Patrick Redfield—a legendary pirate who rivaled Roger and Whitebeard alone—who could read thoughts, and even memories, through his own unique variant.
With such powerful abilities in mind, Darren had always longed to awaken Observation Haki.
His magnetic sensing could replicate parts of its function, but it would never compare to the real thing.
Not to mention, when taken to its extreme, Observation Haki could allow one to glimpse even a few seconds into the future.
“Zephyr-sensei, I don’t really know why. It’s not like I haven’t tried. But none of my attempts ever amounted to anything.”
Darren frowned, trying to put his feelings into words.
“If I had to describe it… Awakening Armament Haki was natural for me. Like water flowing downhill—it just happened. But Observation Haki feels completely different.”
“It’s like… like looking up at the sky and finding it completely covered by a thick curtain. You can’t see the light. It’s all blurred out. Like…”
“…Like being blind,” Zephyr suddenly finished for him.
Darren blinked, then his eyes lit up.
“You’ve seen this before, Zephyr-sensei!?”
Zephyr gave a proud little smirk.
“I’ve been teaching at this camp for decades. I’ve trained more outstanding recruits than I can count. Your case is rare, sure—but not unheard of.”
Hearing the confidence in Zephyr’s voice, Darren couldn’t help but grin.
“You truly live up to your title as the Marines’ Chief Instructor… Your insight’s beyond anything most could imagine.”
It was a well-placed bit of flattery, and Zephyr practically beamed, his pores seeming to open with satisfaction.
“Now you know how brilliant I am, eh? If you’d gone to Garp, that old bastard would’ve just said, ‘You just need a good beating’ and left it at that.”
“So what’s your take on it, Zephyr-sensei?”
Darren leaned in eagerly, eyes full of anticipation.
It wasn’t even about combat anymore. He just didn’t want to go through another awkward situation like the last time.
“What’s your honest opinion—why haven’t I awakened Observation Haki?”
Meeting Darren’s gaze, Zephyr gave a small chuckle.
And then said proudly: “You just need a good beating.”
Darren: “…”
Oh, come on. Are you enjoying messing with me, you old bastard?
“Hahaha…”
Zephyr clapped a hand on Darren’s shoulder, laughing as the younger man stood there speechless.
“In truth, it’s not that different from what Garp said. That bastard may be a brainless brute, and his teaching methods are a mess, but his experience and judgment aren’t wrong.”
His gaze sharpened, glinting with insight.
“Darren, the reason you haven’t awakened Observation Haki is actually quite simple. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
“To a certain extent, Observation Haki awakens similarly to Conqueror’s Haki. It’s a reflex—a physical response triggered by intense emotional or survival stress.”
Once in teaching mode, Zephyr was calm, clear, and commanding. A truly excellent instructor—precise, patient, and sharp.
“A lot of people awaken it in moments of crisis, when danger’s breathing down their neck—so long as their training has laid the foundation.”
“But you… your body is so ridiculously tough that you’ve lost all sensitivity to danger.”
“Add in the fact that your Devil Fruit can simulate some of the same effects… and there’s simply no pressure for your instincts to react. That’s why you haven’t awakened it.”
“Use it or lose it. That’s not just nature’s rule—it applies to us humans too. Do you understand now?”
Darren’s brow furrowed, thoughtful.
“So that’s how it is…”
He paused, then asked:
“Then what should I do, Zephyr-sensei?”
Zephyr chuckled.
“Wait here a moment.”
With a flash of Soru, his figure vanished.
Ten seconds later, he reappeared before Darren—this time holding a pair of deep blue-black shackles in his hand.
“What’s that…?”
Darren blinked.
“These are Seastone cuffs,” Zephyr explained, eyes glinting. “They suppress and even nullify the abilities of Devil Fruit users. With these, your magnetic sense will be sealed.”
He smiled confidently.
“This will limit your abilities, drain your stamina, and make you physically weaker. Once your instincts are exposed to real pressure without your powers to rely on, you’ll be forced to develop the strength lying dormant within you. Your chances of awakening Observation Haki will increase dramatically.”
“But Zephyr-sensei… these Seastone cuffs, actually—”
Darren began to speak, but Zephyr waved him off.
“Enough talk. Put them on.”
“…Alright.” Darren took the cuffs and locked them around his wrists himself.
“You shouldn't even be able to stand right now, should you? Hahaha… Come on! Hit me with a punch—let me see how much you’ve got left!”
Zephyr grinned, arms wide in challenge.
“Zephyr-sensei, are you sure? I actually—” Darren hesitated again.
“Stop being such a damn wimp!”
Zephyr snapped.
“Just hit me—wait, what the—?!”
BAM!
Darren’s heavy punch slammed into Zephyr’s gut like a sledgehammer.
The old man’s face froze on the spot.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 282: Chapter 184: Beat Him Into the Ground
Summary:
"Sometimes growth begins with a beating you never saw coming."
Chapter Text
The training ground fell utterly silent.
Only the sound of wind stirred the yellow dust, sweeping across the empty space.
Darren’s fist remained pressed against Zephyr’s abdomen. The instructor’s body was locked in place, the corners of his eyes twitching ever so slightly. Neither of them moved a muscle.
“…Zephyr-sensei, are you okay?”
Darren blinked innocently, looking at the frozen expression on Zephyr’s face. He slowly retracted his fist, the clink-clink of the Seastone cuffs on his wrists cutting through the silence.
Zephyr’s expression twisted, as if trying to suppress something. Blood vessels began to creep at the corners of his eyes.
Then, he drew a deep breath and looked at the young commodore before him, his voice low and filled with disbelief.
“Seastone… doesn’t work on you?”
Darren scratched his head, replying with honest confusion:
“When I was captured by Kaido, his subordinate ‘Plague’ Queen used Seastone cuffs on me. I used the opportunity to do some resistance training.”
“I couldn’t use my Devil Fruit, of course—but I could still move normally. I could even fight decently.”
He gave the cuffs on his wrists a shake and added, slightly disappointed:
“Though honestly… the Seastone cuffs we use in the Marines seem a little weak in comparison.”
Zephyr: “…”
His chest heaved. His fists clenched and relaxed, clenched again.
Internally, he was screaming:
Of course Marine Headquarters’ Seastone cuffs have low purity! That’s normal!
We don’t depend on these things to catch pirates!
The high-purity ones? Sure, they exist—but they’re all allocated to Impel Down!
Zephyr stared at Darren with a blank face.
“…Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
Darren raised both hands innocently.
“I was going to! But you kept interrupting me, saying I had to hit you.”
“What else could I do? I mean, sure—it’s a weird order—but you’re Zephyr-sensei. As a Marine, my duty is to follow orders.”
He straightened up, face solemn.
“And besides… I figured with your strength, I wouldn’t hurt you even if I didn’t wear the cuffs. So I just went for it.”
Zephyr: “…”
He pressed his lips together, voice rasping slightly:
“…Very good. You did well.”
“It was my mistake. I didn’t expect you to have trained for Seastone resistance.”
“Yes… good.”
Darren nodded. “Then… what did you think of that punch, Zephyr-sensei?”
“I felt really weak under the Seastone suppression, but I used the technique Vice Admiral Garp taught me.”
“…Though I know I’m still far from mastering it.”
Zephyr: “…”
He opened his mouth, throat hoarse.
“…Not bad.”
Only then did Darren relax, smiling.
“Thank you, Zephyr-sensei. Should we begin training now?”
“…Wait here a moment.”
Zephyr turned away, expression unreadable. He walked toward the edge of the training ground.
There, he stopped.
Bent over.
Hands braced on his knees.
The motion was smooth, practiced.
“Bleaargh!!”
A thick splash of yellow-white fluid hit the dirt.
Zephyr, still facing away, wiped his mouth, then returned as if nothing had happened. His voice calm.
“…The food at the camp might not be fresh.”
Darren: “…”
“Prepare yourself. Training starts now.”
Zephyr’s voice was hoarse, but Darren caught something else behind the words—something ominous.
Then, Zephyr pulled out a Den Den Mushi and said coldly:
“Gion. Gather everyone at the training ground. Now.”
Less than thirty seconds later, Tokikake, Gion, Kuzan, Yamakaji, and the other cadets had assembled. They glanced curiously between Zephyr and Darren.
“Yo, Darren!” Kuzan waved. “What’s with the cuffs?”
“Is this some new kind of training method?”
Spotting the Seastone cuffs, his eyes suddenly blazed.
“That’s so freaking cool!!”
Zephyr scanned the group, voice steady:
“Darren is currently wearing Seastone cuffs. His Devil Fruit powers are sealed. His combat ability is severely suppressed.”
“Now, I’m giving you a mission. Use any method. Any means. If you can land even a single hit on him—you get one merit point. These points will directly impact your graduation evaluations.”
“If you fail to earn any points, your training load will be doubled for the next ten days.”
He then stepped aside, arms behind his back, teeth clenched as he muttered:
“Beat him into the ground.”
Darren: ???
“Wait—Zephyr-sensei—!”
But he didn’t even get the words out before he felt the eyes of starving wolves turn toward him.
A chill crept down his spine.
He turned stiffly toward the others and gave a nervous laugh.
“Hey, we’re all classmates here… comrades…”
“Hehehe… never thought I’d see the day,” Tokikake muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Kuzan’s eyes were burning. “Awesome! I finally get to fight you again!!”
Darren’s mouth twitched. He turned to Gion in desperation.
She paused, then slowly drew her blade, smiling sweetly.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Darren: …
He looked toward Yamakaji.
The latter gave an apologetic chuckle. “Sorry, Darren. Orders are orders.”
The others offered pitiful glances—but then their eyes gleamed with fire as they drew their blades. The atmosphere surged with intensity.
Was it his imagination… or was that excitement?
They’d waited far too long for this.
Darren’s monstrous strength had towered over them all—untouchable.
Many of them had been humiliated by him before.
Now, a rare chance had come—one where they could legally beat the crap out of him.
No one could resist that temptation.
“Hey, you’re not serious—are you? Damn it!!”
Darren’s body tensed as he dropped into a defensive stance.
A second later—
They charged him all at once!!
———
Far off, under a beach umbrella, Zephyr sat and listened to the cries of pain echoing across the training ground.
A contented smile curled on his lips.
Lighting a cigar, he leaned back and murmured to himself with a grin:
“Darren… this is for your own good.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 283: Chapter 185: Am I Just a Blond Punk?
Summary:
“Everyone curses the punk. But deep down, they all want to be the punk.”
Chapter Text
The sun was setting—its glow draping the camp in hues of gold.
On the training ground—
With a loud thud, Darren crashed to the ground, gasping for breath, his face black and blue, bruises and cuts marking every inch of his battered body.
“Hehehehe… Don’t blame me, Darren. This was Zephyr-sensei’s order, remember? We’re earning credit points here…”
Tokikake strolled over smugly, putting on a fake face of regret, grinning like a weasel.
In his heart, a tiny version of himself was rolling on the floor in a laughing fit.
So damn satisfying!!
That bastard Darren used to put him through hell under the name of “special training”—especially back in the North Blue.
But now… justice was served.
When his fist smashed into Darren’s face, the thrill, the pleasure—it was beyond words.
Better than ten nights in the red-light district with the top courtesan!
Darren rolled his eyes. He didn’t even have the strength to argue.
“Sorry, Darren…”
Yamakaji scratched his head sheepishly as he approached.
One after another, the others came to offer their “apologies.”
Darren waved them off weakly, looking utterly defeated.
Eventually, the crowd dispersed.
Darren lay alone on the training ground in a big star-shaped sprawl, arms and legs flung wide, motionless.
“How’s it going, Darren kid?”
Zephyr’s silhouette, framed against the dusk light, appeared above him, sunglasses flashing.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but Darren thought Zephyr’s grin had a touch of sadism.
“Any progress with your Observation Haki?”
Darren exhaled slowly, lips twisting.
“I think… I’m starting to get a feel. Sometimes, I can barely catch their movements—even in blind spots.”
Zephyr nodded with a smile.
“Now you understand the method to my madness, don’t you?”
That said, Zephyr was still deeply impressed.
A whole hour of being ganged up on—even if the others weren’t using full force—was no joke. Especially for a Devil Fruit user shackled with Seastone cuffs.
Yet Darren had relied purely on brute endurance and combat instinct to stay on his feet. He even managed to kick Tokikake a few times in return.
At this point, “monster” didn’t even cut it.
His battle sense had far outstripped anyone his age.
Still, considering the opponents Darren had fought before, Zephyr wasn’t surprised for long.
“What I admire most, Darren,” Zephyr crouched down, “is how you stay calm in combat. That’s rare.”
“Observation Haki is tied to the mind. You need clarity, calm. In moments of emotional extremes, when you lose yourself… it fails.”
“At the rate you’re going, you’ll awaken it soon.”
Darren nodded silently.
He’d relied too long on his defense and magnetic field sensing. His body had no urgency to develop true Haki.
Even if he got hit—it wasn’t life-threatening.
But Haki? Haki was willpower.
Charlotte Katakuri had unlocked future sight through sheer obsession—a refusal to make a single mistake. That level of drive turned into strength.
“So, Zephyr-sensei… can you take off the Seastone cuffs now?”
Darren breathed out.
“No.”
Zephyr smiled and shook his head.
“Not until your Observation Haki awakens.”
“You have to learn to fight without the Magnet-Magnet Fruit’s sensing. That’s the only way to truly adapt.”
“So bear with it, Darren kid.”
“Consider it resistance training.”
…So that’s how it is.
Darren looked down at the heavy shackles on his wrists.
Zephyr patted him on the shoulder.
“Go home and rest.”
“Eat well. You’ll need the strength. There’ll be more sessions like today.”
He winked.
Darren: “…”
You sure this isn’t personal, Sensei?
Seeing that twisted smile, Darren silently grumbled.
...
Dragging his weary body under the dusk sky, Darren headed toward the residential quarters.
His uniform was ruined—hanging off him like shredded rags. His body was bruised, his wrists chained. The world-renowned “King of the North Blue” looked like a disgraced prisoner.
He turned down a narrow alley—and stopped.
There stood Gion. Tall, still, her gaze calm as it met his.
“How… are you feeling?”
She asked softly, eyes darting away in embarrassment.
“You were the one who hit hardest…” Darren muttered.
A flush colored Gion’s cheeks. She stepped closer, pulled out ointment, and gently dabbed it on his wounds.
“If I’d held back… someone might’ve noticed.”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Her slender fingers traced over his chest, feather-light. Ticklish.
Darren sighed.
He understood.
Girls cared about appearances.
Especially someone like Gion—the Marine’s “Flower.”
If people found out she was with a guy like him… scandal.
A proper lady in love with a so-called “blond punk.” He didn’t care—but Gion was young. Too young to handle the storm of rumors.
He almost laughed.
Everyone curses the punk.
But deep down, they all want to be the punk.
“Does it hurt…?”
Darren didn’t answer. He just pointed at his cheek.
Gion blushed harder, leaned in and gave him a quick peck—then ran off with her high ponytail flying.
Just a small moment—but Darren’s mood lifted.
Humming a tune, he headed home.
When he stepped inside, a hot meal was already laid out.
“Toki, I’m back.”
Darren smiled.
In her pink kimono, Toki turned around. Her eyes lit up as she saw him, smile blooming like spring.
“Dear, welcome home.”
Her gaze fell on the Seastone cuffs.
“Eh? What’s this…?”
Darren couldn’t be bothered to explain.
“Oh, just a prop. Nothing serious.”
“A prop…”
Toki murmured, her cheeks reddening as her thoughts wandered. Her fingers twirled nervously.
“So… does Dear want me to… tie you up?”
Darren: ……
What the hell are you thinking…
Then again… not the worst idea.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 284: Chapter 186: A New Mission
Summary:
“Some people learn with sweat. Others… with simplicity that borders on madness.”
Chapter Text
Time passed in its own solid, fulfilling rhythm.
Before long, half a year had gone by.
Throughout those months, Darren never once removed his Seastone cuffs. Mornings were spent sparring with Garp by the abandoned port. Afternoons, he endured daily “gang beatings” from his fellow cadets—each session pushing the limits of his developing Observation Haki.
As for nights… well, Darren had no say in those.
Sometimes it was Gion. Sometimes it was Toki. Sometimes it was Gion first, then Toki.
Let’s just say—life was eventful. Though his back was paying the price.
A surprising benefit, however, was that the longer he wore the Seastone cuffs, the more accustomed he became to them. The draining effect of Seastone on Devil Fruit users seemed to grow weaker over time.
Though the Magnet-Magnet Fruit remained sealed, that once paralyzing sense of weakness had dulled significantly.
…
Marine Headquarters — Abandoned Port
Wrecked Marine Ships lay strewn across the barren ground, their hulls riddled with fist-shaped craters.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
As always, Darren was using a warship as a punching bag—drenched in sweat, muscles straining with every blow.
Each punch was accompanied by the crisp clink of the Seastone cuffs.
Not far off, Garp lounged under a sun umbrella, munching on donuts as he watched Darren’s back, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
Wearing those cuffs reduced Darren’s punching power to a mere fraction of normal. Destroying even one ship had become ten times harder.
But the kid never quit.
Just then, an energetic voice rang out.
“Hey!! Mr. Garp!! Teach me too!!”
Garp blinked. He turned—and saw a tall figure with black curls waving eagerly.
Oh no, not again…
Since finding out last month that Garp had been training Darren, Kuzan had shown up every day, brimming with enthusiasm, begging for lessons.
Like I have time for this… Garp thought.
Word was, Golden Lion Shiki had resurfaced in the New World. Sengoku was already swamped.
Roger’s side seemed calm, but not long ago he’d clashed with “Red the Aloof,” Patrick Redfield. Their battle had torn apart a small island and sent several nations into a panic.
Garp had planned to set sail again soon. So at first, he turned Kuzan down flat.
Didn’t help.
The kid just got more fired up. Rejected one day, back the next—ten times more determined.
“Go bother a training camp instructor, Kuzan,” Garp grumbled.
“But I’ve learned all they can teach!” Kuzan shouted, eyes burning as he stared at Darren’s back.
“I can’t fall behind him. Darren’s my rival for life!”
This idiot… Garp pressed a palm to his forehead.
“…Fine, fine. Come here.”
He sighed in defeat.
He didn’t dislike Kuzan. In fact, the kid’s talent was undeniable—another “monster” like Sakazuki and Borsalino.
It’s just that Garp had bad memories from mentoring his son and Sakazuki. He wasn’t exactly a fan of “genius proteges.”
Honestly, if it weren’t to repay a personal favor to Darren, he wouldn’t be training him either.
Kuzan lit up and jogged over, eyes shining with expectation.
Garp got up, walked to one of the wrecked ships.
Darren paused his training, wiping sweat and watching curiously.
Just like with Darren, Garp said:
“Watch carefully. I’m only showing this once.”
His gaze sharpened—then bam—he punched.
A deep, thunderous crack.
The massive ship erupted into a cloud of debris.
“Whoa…”
Kuzan’s eyes sparkled, jaw slack as he stared at the shattered massive ship.
“That… was awesome…”
Garp chuckled.
“Got it?”
He glanced sideways, fully expecting Kuzan to be confused.
He knew his own teaching style was… basic.
He was even hoping it’d scare Kuzan off.
But instead, Kuzan frowned thoughtfully—then grinned.
“I think I got it…”
Darren: “???”
Seriously?
Garp was stunned too.
“…Try it, then.”
Kuzan scratched his head, chuckling. He walked up to another ship and, clumsily mimicking Garp’s stance, swung a punch.
Boom!
The ship groaned under the blow. Cracks rippled across its hull.
“…I think this is the right motion. Didn’t quite break it, though.”
Kuzan scratched his cheek awkwardly.
Darren and Garp stared, dumbfounded.
“You… you really got it!?”
Garp’s eyes gleamed. He grabbed Kuzan by both hands.
Kuzan nodded. “Yup!”
Garp blinked—then threw back his head.
“Bwahahaha!! I knew it!! It wasn’t my teaching—it was your lack of talent!!”
He jabbed a finger at Kuzan.
“You’ve got it, kid!! From today on, you’re training with me!”
Kuzan laughed excitedly.
Darren stood there, watching the two simpletons cackling together, lines of stress appearing on his forehead.
This…
He rubbed his temples.
So “serious punching” can only be understood by single-celled organisms, huh?
“Darren!! Did you see that? I’m catching up!!”
Kuzan beamed.
“…Yeah yeah…”
Darren didn’t even want to answer.
Just then, a slow, teasing voice interrupted:
“Pretty lively here, huh…”
As the voice faded, countless golden photons gathered in midair, forming the figure of a tall man.
“Vice Admiral Garp.”
Borsalino smiled and nodded to Garp, then turned toward Darren.
“Commodore Darren, you’ve got a mission.”
Before Darren could speak, Garp scowled.
“Oi, Borsalino. Darren’s my student right now.”
Borsalino raised his hands in mock innocence.
“Orders from Admiral Sengoku…”
Garp’s face stiffened.
Yeah… I know what kind of mess my son’s caused Sengoku…
He cleared his throat.
“Well then, Darren—you’d better go. No point wasting more time training if your talent’s that mediocre.”
Darren: “…”
His face twitched.
He turned to Borsalino, deadpan.
“…What’s the mission?”
Borsalino grinned.
“Golden Lion… Shiki.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 285: Chapter 187: A Clash of Degenerates?
Summary:
“To hunt a monster, send another.”
Chapter Text
"Golden Lion Shiki!?"
A legendary pirate. An apex force ranked alongside Roger and Whitebeard—and by Marine Headquarters’ own assessment, considered even more dangerous than the other two.
The moment Darren heard the name, his eyes sharpened. Beside him, Garp and Kuzan also froze slightly.
"Oi oi oi, Darren hasn’t even graduated from the training camp yet. Isn’t sending him against Shiki a bit much?"
Garp’s blunt style showed no restraint.
Darren was strong, sure—but he was still far from being a match for Shiki.
Garp knew this better than anyone, having fought Shiki multiple times.
Darren fell silent.
Because he knew—this version of Shiki wasn’t the broken wreck Luffy would someday swat down. No. This was the real thing. A monster in his prime.
A fearsome Devil Fruit ability.
Unrivaled dual-blade swordsmanship.
And that overwhelming ambition—to dominate the seas with a lion’s roar.
Darren had no doubt—this man had awakened Conqueror’s Haki.
Truthfully, in some ways, Shiki was even more dangerous than Roger or Whitebeard.
This was the pirate who once invaded Marineford alone and nearly destroyed half of it, only stopped by the combined effort of Garp and Sengoku.
Borsalino shrugged casually.
"Orders from Admiral Sengoku. He’s personally leading this mission."
Darren’s eyes flickered.
So that’s it. They want me to help counter Shiki’s Float-Float Fruit.
He understood instantly.
With no hesitation, he smiled and asked:
"Alright. When do we depart?"
After half a year of rigorous training at headquarters, Darren was ready to head out.
No warrior grows through isolation alone—real combat was irreplaceable.
And he wanted to see for himself—just how mighty the lion truly was.
"We set sail tomorrow. Go get ready."
With that, Borsalino dissolved into golden light and vanished.
"Hmph… going out to sea for field experience isn’t a bad idea," Garp mused, looking at Darren.
"You’ve trained enough. Pushing further would just be wasting time."
"But Darren—don’t let your guard down. Shiki’s nothing like the pirates you’ve faced before."
"Roger, Whitebeard, Byrnndi World… those guys, for all their terrifying strength, weren’t inherently evil."
"World hated the World Government. Whitebeard just wanted to protect his family. Roger… that bastard was after freedom. They’ve done bad things, sure—but they weren’t truly wicked."
"But Shiki… he’s different."
Garp’s expression darkened.
"Shiki is a pure pirate."
"Pillaging. Destruction. Deceit. Cunning. Ruthlessness. Greed. He’ll do whatever it takes. There’s no line he won’t cross."
"And his Float-Float Fruit makes him an even bigger headache for us Marines."
Darren nodded, smiling.
"Don’t worry, Vice Admiral Garp. I’ll be cautious."
Garp paused, almost thinking Darren was brushing him off—
Then it hit him.
Pillaging. Destruction. Deceit. Cunning. Ruthlessness. Greed.
Wasn’t that basically Darren?
Or rather—wasn’t Darren just the Marine version of Shiki?
Well then… maybe he didn’t need to worry so much after all.
Garp chuckled and shook his head.
With Sengoku and Borsalino involved, Shiki would be sufficiently contained.
And Darren, with his sharp, underhanded style—
Shiki might just be the one to suffer most in the end.
Now it all made sense. This was why Sengoku had chosen Darren.
Send the "degenerate of the Marines"… to face the "degenerate of the pirates."
"That’s so damn cool!!"
Kuzan couldn’t hold back anymore. He punched the air, eyes burning.
"Darren, you’re really going to hunt down a living legend! Golden Lion Shiki!!"
He turned to Garp, pleading.
"Mr. Garp! Let me go too!!"
"No." *2
Darren and Garp spoke in unison.
Kuzan: “…”
Darren had no intention of dragging along this overly enthusiastic chatterbox.
"Kuzan, you lack experience with top-tier opponents. This mission’s too dangerous for you," Garp said flatly.
"Once you graduate from my training, then we’ll talk."
He looked at Kuzan with a mix of pride and reluctance.
He’d finally found someone who could actually understand his teaching style—no way he was letting him go just yet.
"Huh? Darren, what are you still standing there for? Go on already."
Garp waved him off like swatting a fly.
Darren: “…”
Oi. Seriously? The favoritism here is unreal.
…
The next day
At first light, Darren was already up.
His belongings had been packed neatly—courtesy of Toki.
He glanced back at her, sleeping soundly. Last night’s farewell had been… wild.
He smiled to himself.
"Tekkai really is useful."
Feeling refreshed, he stretched. The Seastone cuffs clinked softly.
After a light breakfast, he picked up his things and stepped out the door.
The rising sun painted everything in gold.
He walked calmly toward the Marine port, leaving his peaceful home behind.
At the docks—
Marines were loading crates of supplies onto ships. Sengoku, overseeing everything, suddenly turned.
He spotted Darren and smiled.
"You’re here?"
Darren saluted.
"Marine Headquarters Commodore Rogers Darren, reporting!"
Sengoku raised an eyebrow, noting the cuffs.
"Still wearing those?"
Darren chuckled.
"I got used to them. I’ll take them off on the way."
Sengoku nodded.
Once the ammunition, food, and equipment were all aboard, he led Darren onto the Marine ship.
The sea breeze was sharp.
The air felt heavy—with tension, and something more.
"Set sail!!"
---
To be continued...
Chapter 286: Chapter 188: Confronting Death
Summary:
“True growth begins where comfort ends — and the body remembers only what the soul demands.”
Chapter Text
The Marine ship cut steadily across the sea.
A cold wind snapped at the gull-marked Marine flag fluttering from the mast.
Darren stood quietly at the prow, ignoring the strange glances from nearby Marines at the Seastone cuffs still locked around his wrists. Eyes closed, he let the wind wash over him, savoring this fleeting peace.
At the same time, he carefully examined his current condition.
Physique: 85.812
Strength: 74.513
Speed: 73.001
Armament Haki: 43.035
Conqueror’s Haki: 52.301
Over the past half year, his training had focused mainly on developing Observation Haki and practicing hand-to-hand combat under Garp’s instruction.
Reflecting that, his most notable gains were in strength and Armament Haki.
Strength had risen by 3 points; Armament Haki, even more impressively, had leapt from 38 to 43—a solid 5-point jump.
His physique and speed had increased modestly as well, by around 2–3 points, likely as an overflow effect from the other training.
All in all, Darren was fairly satisfied.
At his current level, every single point of growth was exponentially harder than before.
Take Physique, for example. At this stage, regular endurance training barely made a dent. He could already predict: the closer his stats inched toward 100, the more brutally difficult progress would become.
In fact, serious injury could even cause those numbers to drop.
“Darren kid, how’s your training coming along lately?”
Sengoku, draped in his Admiral’s coat, walked up beside him and casually handed over a cigar.
Darren took it without hesitation, smiling.
“Not bad.”
Sengoku lit his own cigar and exhaled slowly.
“At your level, ordinary training barely helps anymore. From here on, you either spend absurd amounts of time in discipline and refinement… or fight for real.”
His eyes flicked to the Seastone cuffs still clamped around Darren’s wrists.
“How’s your Observation Haki coming along?”
Darren let out a wry smile.
“I’ve brushed the threshold. But it’s still hazy… just one step away.”
Sengoku frowned, a suspicion flickering across his mind.
“You’re not thinking… of fighting Shiki while still shackled—to force yourself into awakening under the pressure of death?”
Darren gazed out at the endless horizon, voice low.
“That’s the only way left.”
“Zephyr-sensei’s training was helpful. But in the camp, my sparring partners were comrades. No one would ever try to kill me.”
“I can feel it—if I stay stuck like this, if I keep failing to break through, the longer I wait, the smaller my chances become.”
“…Facing death is the only true trigger.”
Humans fall into patterns.
Once you get used to relying on defense and Devil Fruit abilities, the body’s subconscious stops “wanting” Observation Haki.
According to both training camp data and Zephyr’s experience, the older one gets, the harder it becomes to awaken Haki.
Darren was already twenty. Young, yes—but not limitless. His window wasn’t as wide as it seemed.
A heavy silence.
“…You maniac,” Sengoku finally muttered.
Darren just smiled.
“You can’t stand beside real monsters unless you act a little crazy too.”
As he spoke, yesterday’s image resurfaced in his mind.
Kuzan—who’d grasped Garp’s entire fighting technique after seeing it once.
How he did it? Darren had no idea.
Just as Garp couldn’t explain how he fought, Kuzan couldn’t explain how he learned.
Some things are like that. You either get it, or you don’t.
That’s talent.
And Garp’s fists weren’t some common Marine style—they were true combat arts, secret-level mastery.
Kuzan had bridged a gap in a minute that took Darren six months to even approach.
That’s a monster.
Sengoku fell silent too, his gaze drifting—perhaps unconsciously—toward the ship’s starboard side.
There, Borsalino lounged in a beach chair with a glass of watermelon juice.
Sengoku’s lips twitched.
That lazy bastard didn’t look like he was heading into a mission to confront a legendary pirate.
More like a man on paid vacation.
And yet… the more Sengoku watched him, the more unsure he became of Borsalino’s real strength.
He was technically his subordinate, and yet—he was unreadable.
That, in itself, was dangerous.
This guy never trained seriously. Never showed up for drills. Just drifted through life.
Sengoku sighed and shook his head, then changed the subject.
“Darren kid, do you know why I brought you along on this mission?”
Darren thought for a moment.
“My Devil Fruit ability is well suited for large-scale combat.”
Sengoku smiled.
“Exactly. While Sakazuki has more raw destructive power, your abilities are much better suited for countering Shiki’s flying pirate fleet.”
“More importantly, I want you to witness their strength firsthand. One day, we might form our own airborne Marine fleet.”
Darren’s brow furrowed slightly.
He heard something else in Sengoku’s words.
“So… our goal isn’t to kill Shiki?”
Sengoku sighed and shook his head, eyes heavy.
“Shiki’s too cunning. He’s not so easily taken down.”
“We’ve tried hunting him before—multiple times. He always escapes with his Devil Fruit.”
“He’s nothing like Whitebeard or Roger. Shiki’s brutal. Cold. He doesn’t care who dies. He’ll use his own men as shields without blinking.”
“That’s why our primary objective this time… is to wipe out the living force of his flying pirate crew.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 287: Chapter 189: You Came Too Late
Summary:
“Justice that arrives after death is no justice at all.”
Chapter Text
One day later.
Somewhere in the New World—
“We should be close. According to intel, Shiki was last seen somewhere in this area.”
On the deck of the Marine ship, Admiral Sengoku studied the sea chart in his hand with a calm, steady gaze. Adjusting his black-rimmed glasses, he spoke slowly.
Darren narrowed his eyes and scanned the vast ocean ahead, brow furrowing.
Even with the Marine’s vast intelligence network, trying to locate a pirate crew in this boundless sea was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Only now was he beginning to grasp the burden placed on officers like Sengoku.
Often, it wasn’t that the Marines were incompetent, standing idle while the Great Pirate Era ran rampant. No—it was simply that this world was far, far too vast.
Communication and reconnaissance lagged behind.
Marine ships were decently fast—but compared to the sea’s infinite breadth, they were practically stationary.
Even when intel came in, and they deployed immediately, it still took hours, even days, to reach the scene.
And the New World’s seas? Unpredictable, volatile, dangerously capricious.
All of it made chasing pirates brutally inefficient.
A truth hard to change, bound by the limits of the world itself.
It was no wonder Sengoku was so desperate to establish an airborne Marine fleet.
The Marines didn’t lack firepower—they lacked mobility.
If they had a flying fleet, their response speed would skyrocket. Pirate pursuit would become exponentially more effective.
“Wandering aimlessly like this isn’t working. Admiral Sengoku, do we know why Shiki showed up in this area?”
Darren frowned.
Sengoku shook his head.
“No leads. Shiki is secretive, calculating. He’s a master at hiding his true intentions.”
Troubling…
Darren’s brow furrowed further.
“Hmm… something seems to have happened over there.”
A slow, lazy voice broke in—Borsalino.
He raised a hand and pointed off toward a patch of sea, a faint teasing smile on his face.
Darren and Sengoku followed his gesture.
Their expressions shifted instantly.
Through a thin sea mist, the outline of an island—small, nondescript—came into view.
Above it, black smoke billowed into the sky. Thick. Unrelenting.
A cold breeze carried something with it.
Darren and Sengoku’s eyes contracted simultaneously.
Blood.
A sharp, overwhelming scent of blood.
“Landfall!” Sengoku barked without hesitation.
…
Corpses.
Shattered corpses.
The entire town on the island lay in ruin—limbs severed, simple homes crumbled into rubble. Blood soaked the earth and stained the broken stones.
Deep, terrifying sword marks crossed the ground in all directions. Every clean cut, smooth and precise—clearly the work of a true master swordsman.
The sun was setting. Twilight cast its orange light across the ruined town.
A wasteland of death and silence. Vultures picked at rotting flesh.
The stench—decay and blood—was suffocating.
The Marines who came ashore went pale. Some of the younger ones clutched their stomachs, on the verge of vomiting.
“That bastard!!”
Sengoku’s sudden roar shattered the silence.
His eyes were bloodshot, teeth clenched as he stared at the carnage.
Darren’s expression darkened too.
There was no need to guess.
Only one man would carry out a massacre like this.
And with sword slashes still radiating deadly intent from the ground—
“We were too late… Shiki’s already been here.”
Borsalino sighed, almost regretfully.
Sengoku’s voice was like steel.
“Search for clues. Look for any survivors.”
Unlikely. But they had to try.
Marines fanned out at once.
A few minutes later—
“Admiral Sengoku! There’s a survivor over here!”
The call came from nearby. Sengoku and several others rushed over.
Beneath a collapsed wall lay a man—covered in blood, face ashen.
His lower body was pinned beneath debris. He couldn’t move.
“How are you feeling!?” Sengoku crouched, voice tight with urgency.
He shot a subtle glance at the ship’s medic.
The medic shook his head.
No saving him.
The man struggled to open his eyes, catching sight of Sengoku’s uniform.
“Ma… Marines…”
His voice rasped.
Then—he smiled. Faint. Bitter.
“You came too late…”
Tears slid from the corners of his dull eyes, tracing down stiff cheeks.
“I’m sorry.”
Sengoku stiffened, gaze dimming. He spoke quietly.
“Sorry?”
The man lifted his head, expression hollow.
Then—he laughed. Cold. Mocking.
From his lifeless eyes, bloody tears began to fall.
And then—he screamed.
“WE PAID THE HEAVENLY TRIBUTE!!”
“We worked ourselves to the bone every day! Groveling like dogs to the tax agents! We didn’t even dare get sick!”
“My wife—she died in bed because we couldn’t afford a doctor, couldn’t buy medicine!!”
“All for that damn Heavenly Tribute!!”
“And in the end?! When the pirates came, where were you?!”
“You wear pristine uniforms! Ride your glorious ships! Swagger around like gods!! But when it matters—you come here and say ‘sorry’?!!”
“My father! My mother! My two children… they’re all DEAD!!”
“This is your so-called justice?! Is this how the Marines protect the people after collecting their Heavenly Tribute?!”
His broken, furious screams echoed through the ruined city.
The vultures scattered.
No one moved.
The Marines stood frozen, heads bowed.
Sengoku opened his mouth. Lips trembled.
But he couldn’t speak.
He could have said many things—
That the tribute had nothing to do with them. That most of it went to the Celestial Dragons, funding their luxurious lives.
That they’d come as fast as they could. That the sea was vast. That Marineford was far from the New World.
So many reasons.
But to this man—who had lost everything, who would die any moment now—
None of it mattered.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 288: Chapter 190: More-More Reemergence
Chapter Text
“So don’t give me your ‘sorrys’ and ‘forgive us’… You Marines, always chanting justice this and justice that… cough, cough…”
The man broke into a violent coughing fit, black blood splattering from his lips. His pallor had darkened to a sickly violet hue.
He gasped for air, on the verge of collapse, and sneered with the last dregs of his strength:
“Delayed justice… is no justice at all!”
Silence fell over the Marines. Rain had started falling from the leaden sky without anyone noticing. The drizzle pattered over bloodied rubble, yet it could not wash away the weight pressing on their hearts.
“…You’re right. Our Marine justice… is complete bullshit.”
The cold voice came without warning.
Everyone turned. Darren had crouched beside the dying man, his expression calm.
He pulled a cigarette pack from his coat, extracting one.
“Want one?”
The man blinked, slightly startled, then nodded faintly.
Darren placed it between his lips and lit it for him.
The man took a deep drag and coughed violently again, smoke spilling with blood.
“What’s done is done. I know saying ‘sorry’ means nothing. Justice delayed isn’t justice. But—luckily—I’ve never been too sentimental about ‘justice’ to begin with.”
Darren lit his own cigarette and gave a slight smile.
“I believe in vengeance. An eye for an eye.”
“So if you know anything—anything at all—tell me. Even the faintest lead could help us find the one who did this. Then I’ll kill him. For your family… and for you.”
The man stared at him, the light in his eyes beginning to fade. But only now did he notice: this Marine was unlike the others. There was something unruly, feral, in his gaze. A dangerous flame of defiance.
Was he a madman?
The man smiled faintly.
“Three days ago, a merchant fleet stopped here to resupply. Rumor was they’d found something priceless—planning to auction it off to someone high up in the underworld.”
“Two days later, the Golden Lion arrived.”
“He tortured, he killed—looking for that fleet’s trail. What you see now… that’s the aftermath.”
A treasure?
Everyone, including Darren, frowned.
Someone like Shiki wouldn’t bother with mere treasure. Wealth, supplies, weapons, territory—he could take whatever he wanted by force.
“What was it that he was after?”
Sengoku asked urgently.
The man gave him a scornful glance and weakly shook his head.
Darren exhaled smoke and spoke slowly:
“If it caught Shiki’s eye, then it must be something that could help him dominate the seas.”
Sengoku nodded.
“Do you know where that merchant fleet went?”
He turned back to the man—but paused.
Crows cawed overhead. The rain beat against the earth, splashing mud on their boots.
The man’s pupils had gone glassy. He was still, rigid.
The cigarette between his cracked lips had long since gone out.
He was dead.
The trail was cold.
Marines continued their work in silence, searching the ruins for clues. But the rain showed no signs of stopping.
Wrapped in a long, hooded coat, Darren walked through the remains of the town, cigarette in his mouth.
He stopped before a building split clean in two. Running his hand along the deep sword cut in the stone, he felt the lingering will behind the strike—fierce, unrestrained, cruel.
Where Garp’s fists embodied overwhelming nobility and might, this slash screamed of wild brutality. A tyrant who laughed at death, who wielded violence with manic glee.
A dark warlord’s silhouette rose in Darren’s mind.
“Purupuru… purupuru…”
The Den Den Mushi in his coat buzzed to life.
He glanced at the encrypted signal, eyes narrowing. Confirming no one was nearby, he answered.
A wicked, low laugh emerged from the snail.
“Heh heh heh… My dear Godfather. I’ve got good news.”
The Den Den Mushi mimicked Doflamingo’s signature grin.
“That thing you’ve always wanted me to find… it’s surfaced.”
A glint flashed in Darren’s eyes. His gaze narrowed to dangerous slits.
“It’s now in the hands of Lu Feld, the Loan Shark King. Word is, tomorrow, he’s holding an open auction on a neutral island in the New World. Highest bidder takes it.”
“Plenty of big players are already moving…”
“…including Shiki, I assume?” Darren asked flatly.
Doflamingo paused, then laughed again.
“Heh heh heh… Seems you’ve made your moves, Godfather. I’ll stay out of this one.”
“Thanks, Dof.”
Darren ended the call without another word.
The Donquixote Family had pull in the North Blue, but not enough weight in the New World. Darren had no plans to drag Doflamingo further in.
Still, this intel made everything clear.
He turned and strode back to Sengoku.
“Admiral Sengoku. I know what Shiki is after.”
Sengoku looked up.
“What is it?”
Darren raised his gaze toward the storm-churned sky.
“Byrnndy World’s ability. The More-More Fruit.”
Sengoku’s face changed instantly.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 289: Chapter 191: The Island of Coins
Chapter Text
The New World.
The Island of Coins.
This island was once barren and forgotten. But due to its unique position—at the crossroads of several major trade routes in the New World—it gradually developed into a bustling commercial hub, driven by the demands of trade and resupply.
Naturally, such prosperity attracted attention. The island soon became contested by various underground syndicates and pirate crews. After all, the more prosperous a place, the more money, intelligence, and resources circulate—an irresistible pool of profit.
After over a decade of bitter conflict, turf wars, and battles, the island eventually fell into the hands of the underworld’s shadow emperor—Lu Feld. Under his aggressive expansion, it rapidly grew into a renowned financial port in the New World.
Banks of all sizes established branches here. News outlets, trade guilds, casinos, and business complexes filled the streets. Towers rose across the skyline.
Due to Lu Feld’s relentless land reclamation—earning him the title of the “Loan Shark King”—the island now resembles an enormous coin from the sky. With massive financial flows passing through daily, the island’s original name has long been forgotten.
Everyone now simply calls it the “Island of Coins.”
…
On the deck of the Marine ship, Darren flipped through the intel files Sengoku had handed him, reviewing information on the distant island gleaming golden on the horizon.
“So, in short… this place is drowning in wealth?”
Darren gave a blunt summary.
Sengoku nodded, voice low.
“‘Loan Shark King’ Lu Feld… That man controls more than half the underworld’s loan-sharking business. His banking network is called the ‘Coin Lockers.’ There’s even a saying in the New World—‘Even Lu Feld’s shit turns to gold.’”
“Exaggerated, sure—but it speaks to the scale of his wealth and influence.”
Darren’s eyes shifted, lips curling in a faint, wry smile.
“I’m curious… How does someone that rich manage to survive in the New World?”
Sengoku shook his head and sighed.
“He doesn’t just cater to merchants, fleets, or pirates. It’s said many World Government member nations work with him. When emergency cash flow is needed, any power might turn to him. That’s why—no matter how chaotic the New World becomes—it never touches the Island of Coins.”
“That place stands like calm in the heart of a storm. Unshaken.”
“Of course, it also draws in plenty of criminals and dark elements.”
Darren nodded slowly.
If such ties exist, it explains a lot.
Otherwise, such a rich, juicy target wouldn’t have survived long in the New World without being picked clean.
As for the cooperation with World Government members… Darren didn’t know the full details, but he had a strong guess—it probably involved the Heavenly Tribute.
Every year, the World Government demands a massive Heavenly Tribute from its affiliated nations.
But not every member state can pay on time. Climate, economic instability, war—any number of issues can impact their tax revenue.
Yet the Government’s stance on tribute is absolute. No delays. No excuses.
Which means, when a nation is financially strapped, they mortgage their future tax income to borrow from the Island of Coins—at a steep interest—just to make the payment.
It’s crippling. But it buys time.
But from Sengoku’s tone…
Darren glanced sideways at him.
Could it be… even the Marines had borrowed from Lu Feld to fund operations?
“What’s with that look?”
Sengoku rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.
He’d noticed Darren’s sideways glance, and with a snort, barked:
“The Marines might be broke, but we haven’t stooped to borrowing from a loan shark!”
Beside them, Borsalino muttered lazily:
“Yeah… we couldn’t afford the interest anyway…”
Darren: …
Sengoku: …
“Ahem… Darren, are we sure this intel is reliable?”
Sengoku cleared his throat, face impassive, shifting the topic smoothly.
“Admiral Sengoku, the intel should be solid.”
Darren nodded.
“Though it’s a relatively small auction, many powerful factions in the New World received invitations.”
At this, his tone chilled slightly.
“But it also means we’re likely to run into all sorts of unexpected enemies.”
Sengoku’s expression darkened. He clearly understood the risk.
An underground auction—especially for something as rare and dangerous as the More-More Fruit—would attract every major power.
With Byrnndi World’s reputation as the “World Destroyer,” whoever got the fruit would gain a monstrous new asset.
Large pirate crews, syndicates, even nations—this auction wouldn’t be peaceful.
And for the Marines… it spelled trouble.
Picture it:
A noisy, crowded auction. Pirates and underworld lords shouting bids—and suddenly the Marines arrive.
Instantly, every eye turns hostile.
The moment things go south, the first target will be the Marines.
Whether they secure the fruit or not is one thing. But if captured by the Marines? That’s another matter.
After a long pause, Sengoku exhaled deeply and said:
“No matter what, Darren… our primary target this time is Golden Lion Shiki.”
“The More-More Fruit must not fall into his hands.”
Darren raised a brow.
“So what are you suggesting?”
Sengoku considered his words.
“If possible, try to secure the fruit through normal channels. There may be representatives from World Government nations present…”
“So we just bid like everyone else?” Darren blinked. “What about funds?”
Sengoku gave him a calm look.
"This task has been entrusted to you because the headquarters is short of funds."
Darren: …
“Admiral Sengoku, I doubt this situation will stay under control.”
Darren frowned, then added:
“If Golden Lion’s really targeting the fruit, he’ll never play fair. He’s a pirate. He’ll act like one.”
Sengoku rubbed his temples, clearly burdened.
He had considered that, too.
“You got any better ideas?”
Darren didn’t reply at once.
He flipped through the report again. A cold smile tugged at his lips. Then, suddenly, he asked:
“Is it true the Island of Coins is literally built out of coins?”
“Yes. Lu Feld has that much money to burn… Wait. What are you thinking?!”
Sengoku replied reflexively—then immediately sensed danger in Darren’s tone. His face shifted.
Darren smiled faintly.
“Didn’t we say the auction would attract tons of pirates and underworld scum?”
“This time… let’s take them all down in one go.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 290: Chapter 192: Overwhelming Disparity
Chapter Text
The Island of Coins.
A vast trade port, broad beyond imagination.
One massive vessel after another slowly sailed into the harbor, instantly drawing the attention of countless onlookers.
“They’re here! That’s… the pirate flag with the pink waving skull!! It’s the Big Mom Pirates’ banner!!”
It was a uniquely shaped pirate ship adorned with dazzling candy decorations.
“Never thought the More-More Fruit would end up in the hands of that fat bastard Lu Feld…”
Aboard the ship, beneath the fluttering pink skull flag, two towering and oddly dressed figures stood side by side.
The speaker was a tall, slender young man with a sharp face and heavy makeup. His deep blue hair, flecked with pale blue spots, fell long past his shoulders. A lollipop-studded top hat perched on his head.
In his hand, he held a candy cane-like staff. A mocking, icy smirk curled on his lips as he extended his long tongue to slowly lick the corner of his mouth.
Beside him stood a stoic-faced youth with dead, lifeless eyes, radiating cold indifference. He wore a blue cotton coat with shoulder ornaments shaped like two mochi balls and a yellow cape draped across his back.
Around his waist was a belt bearing the symbol of a magic lamp.
A wave of murmurs and gasps spread through the crowd.
“...Those are the top officers of the Big Mom Pirates!”
“Charlotte Perospero! Big Mom’s eldest son! Bounty—210 million berries!”
“And next to him… that’s Charlotte Daifuku! Her third son! Bounty—180 million berries!”
“Looks like Big Mom is dead set on getting the More-More Fruit this time!”
The dead-eyed youth gave the crowd a chilling scan. Not a single soul on shore dared meet his gaze.
He broke into a satisfied grin.
“I hear a lot of powerful players showed up for this one, huh, Brother Perospero?”
“But it doesn’t matter. Mama already gave the order—the More-More Fruit must be ours! A Devil Fruit that powerful belongs with the Big Mom Pirates!”
Hearing his younger brother’s words, Charlotte Perospero gave a low, amused chuckle.
“Don’t get too cocky. A few familiar faces showed up too.”
He glanced toward another section of the harbor.
Charlotte Daifuku followed his gaze—and his expression darkened instantly.
“Troublesome bastards showed up too…”
There, a rough-hewn pirate ship crashed into the harbor like a sea beast, violently smashing several neighboring merchant ships to pieces, causing a surge of panic.
Some roared in fury—but upon spotting the flag waving from the pirate ship, their anger froze, their voices vanished.
“That’s… the flag of the Beasts Pirates!!”
“The Beasts Pirates are here too!”
“What are you scared of? Didn’t the Marines already destroy their base?”
“If you’re not afraid to die, go try saying that to them…”
“…”
A dark, menacing figure appeared slowly at the prow of the Beasts Pirates’ ship, clad head to toe in murderous black.
Massive black wings unfolded from his back, releasing an oppressive pressure that swept across the port, silencing everyone.
Top officer of the Beasts Pirates—King the Wildfire, bounty: 270 million berries!
As though sensing a hostile gaze, King turned his head and locked eyes with Charlotte Perospero and Charlotte Daifuku.
Daifuku’s eyes narrowed. Without a word, he slowly reached for his belt.
“Don’t rush it.”
Perospero pressed his hand down, coldly sneering.
“There’s no point fighting that guy now. If we fight, it should be after the More-More Fruit appears.”
As he spoke, he offered King a refined, courteous nod.
King’s face was hidden behind a black mask, expression unreadable.
He glanced once at Perospero, said nothing, and leapt straight onto solid ground.
“Tch. Arrogant bastard.”
Daifuku cursed under his breath, though he quietly withdrew his trembling hand, a light sweat on his palm.
“This guy’s presence gets more terrifying every time… I heard his race is something rare—even Mama wants him on our side.”
Perospero watched King walk away and chuckled darkly.
Daifuku frowned as if remembering something.
“Brother Perospero… even the Beasts Pirates showed up. Do you think the Whitebeard Pirates will come?”
Perospero shook his head.
“No. The Whitebeard Pirates never bother with this kind of circus.”
“That man’s too proud to fight over a Devil Fruit.”
Daifuku nodded, then asked:
“What about the Roger Pirates? I heard someone called ‘Devil’s Heir’ recently joined their crew.”
Perospero shook his head again.
“The Roger Pirates aren’t interested in Devil Fruits… Come on, the auction’s probably about to start.”
With that, the two descended from the ship.
As they stepped into a city built almost entirely from metal coins, a wicked smile played across Perospero’s lips.
“Lu Feld has been living far too comfortably these past few years…”
…
“Even the Big Mom Pirates and the Beasts Pirates showed up… This is turning into a real mess.”
Near the Island of Coins’ harbor, inside a tavern built into the cliffs—
Hidden beneath a large hood, Admiral Sengoku leaned against the window, his gaze heavy as he muttered while watching the unfolding scene.
“Admiral Sengoku, sir—guest list confirmed.”
A disguised Marine officer approached quietly, lowering his voice.
“Over a hundred pirate and underworld groups from across the New World received invitations to the auction. More than eighty confirmed they’ll attend. Based on estimates, at least two hundred pirates with bounties over fifty million berries will be there. Over eighty with bounties above one hundred million.”
“Among them—King the Wildfire of the Beasts Pirates, and Charlotte Perospero and Charlotte Daifuku of the Big Mom Pirates.”
Sengoku’s heart sank further with each word.
“They’re all gathering here… Darren, are you sure your plan will work?”
He couldn’t help but glance toward the man sitting behind him—relaxed, sipping wine and smoking—Darren.
Darren simply smiled, pouring Borsalino another drink before replying calmly:
“Don’t worry, Admiral Sengoku. If this were anywhere else, I wouldn’t make guarantees.”
A glint of cold mischief flashed in his eyes.
“But here…”
Darren raised his glass, taking a small sip. His eyes narrowed.
On the surface of the swirling liquor, the reflection of a city built entirely from metallic coins shimmered in the glass.
“…this is my turf.”
Sengoku slowly exhaled.
He glanced at Darren and Borsalino, still drinking and smoking without a care, and couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off.
These two were far too calm!!
His lips twitched slightly.
Still, there was one small comfort—so far, no sign of the Roger Pirates or Whitebeard Pirates.
But reinforcements were out of the question now.
Even at full speed, it would take at least three days for a Marine ship to reach the Island of Coins from Marineford.
And the auction… was about to begin.
That meant the entire Marine force they could count on—
Was just the three of them.
Plus a few dozen elite troops.
Against…
Dozens of pirate crews.
Nearly a hundred pirates with bounties over a hundred million.
And countless members of the underworld.
The disparity in numbers… was staggering.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 291: Chapter 193: Hidden Currents, Raging Below
Summary:
"Before the first blow lands, the blood already stirs."
Chapter Text
At the same time—
Atop a towering bank building in the eastern district of the Island of Coins.
“Never thought this many people would come to join the chaos…”
A young man with a spiky pineapple-blond hairstyle sat at the edge of the rooftop, his sandal-clad feet lazily swinging high above the ground.
With a stalk of wheat clamped between his teeth, Marco gazed into the distance. Pirates poured from their ships one after another, heading toward the central auction tower at the heart of the island. His brows gradually furrowed.
As one of the dominant powers in the New World, the Whitebeard Pirates had, of course, received an invitation to the auction for the More-More Fruit.
At first, they had little interest in it.
Despite its fearsome potential, the More-More Fruit was not something just anyone could wield.
Its “amplification” ability, like all Devil Fruits, consumed stamina. If the multiplier was extreme—say, fiftyfold or a hundredfold—the strain on the user’s body would be immense.
None of the Whitebeard Pirates’ main ship officers had ever been able to master it.
So when the old man received the invitation, he had merely scoffed, unimpressed.
But Marco, the crew’s first division commander, had his own thoughts.
—Kozuki Oden.
That man, newly aboard and now Whitebeard’s sworn brother, was a monster in both strength and spirit. Yet ever since that battle with the Marine named Rogers Darren, the usually jovial Oden had grown sullen—drowning his frustration in drink.
Marco had been mulling over this for days.
He’d finally realized—the auction might be the perfect opportunity.
If he could seize the More-More Fruit and offer it to Oden as a gift, it might shake him from his gloom, help him bounce back stronger than ever.
And with his monstrous strength, Oden was more than capable of mastering a fruit said to have the power to destroy the world.
That was why Marco had come—alone—to the Island of Coins.
“The Big Mom Pirates… they’ve brought some serious firepower. Even King showed up. Guess this won’t be easy…”
Marco scratched his head, troubled.
The thought of going up against King the Wildfire made him uneasy.
And as for winning the fruit through the “normal” auction process?
Don’t be ridiculous. The Whitebeard Pirates didn’t have that kind of money.
“We’ll have to wait for the right moment. The Charlotte brothers are greedy—they won’t let King take the fruit unopposed… Once things erupt, maybe I can strike in the chaos.”
Marco muttered to himself.
…
Elsewhere—
Inside a private suite at a hotel in the island’s western district.
A hulking figure stepped slowly from the bathroom—his body scarred and muscular, as solid as stone.
Only a white towel hung around his waist. His wet, golden hair fell wildly around his shoulders—untamed, defiant.
On a nearby rack hung a black military uniform. His polished black boots glinted with lethal sharpness.
He had only one arm.
His right arm was gone—blasted away by some horrific weapon—leaving behind a grotesque, healed scar.
“Quite the party we’ve got this time…”
The golden-haired man narrowed his eyes, staring through the window at the harbor where countless pirate flags fluttered in the breeze. A wicked smile of bloodlust tugged at his lips.
“Dozens of pirate crews, underworld syndicates… the Big Mom Pirates… and the Beasts Pirates…”
At the mention of the Beasts Pirates, a flash of murderous rage flickered through his gaze.
He raised his remaining left hand and pressed it lightly onto a metallic side table.
No obvious motion followed—but a faint purple shimmer passed across the table’s surface like a ghostly ripple.
Then, the table melted—flowing up his arm like liquid, crawling over his chest, and finally solidifying into a segmented, scaled metal arm on his right shoulder.
Clack. Clack.
He clenched the fist—metal joints grinding together—his face showing clear satisfaction.
Douglas Bullet.
“Being cooped up on that ship every day is such a drag…”
Bullet narrowed his eyes.
Ever since he’d joined the Roger Pirates, he’d challenged Gol D. Roger time and time again. Every time he thought he’d trained hard enough, grown strong enough to finally surpass that man…
Roger would respond by showing him yet another unreachable level.
Ten times.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Fifty.
And gradually, Bullet began to grasp just how far the distance truly was between himself—and that man called Gol D. Roger.
He was forever chasing the man’s shadow. Just one step behind—but that step felt endless.
The more he understood this, the deeper his awe for Roger grew.
But so too did his frustration… and despair.
Having a rival to chase was fine—but getting crushed again and again? Anyone would break.
His pride could only take so much.
So when he saw the auction invitation in the ship’s trash bin—
He didn’t hesitate.
He’d been suppressing himself for far too long.
It was time to unleash.
As for the More-More Fruit? He didn’t give a damn.
Naturally, when he slipped away from the ship, none of the other Roger Pirates stopped him. In fact, they’d just laughed and told him to get it out of his system and come back later.
After all, the Roger Pirates had never been strict about discipline. Their motto was practically “do whatever you want.”
“An auction, huh… Don’t let me down, you bastards…”
A sinister grin twisted across Bullet’s lips. Violence shimmered in his eyes.
“This time—I’m going to tear through all of you! KAHAHAHAHA!!”
…
That day, on the famed Island of Coins in the New World, hidden tides churned beneath the golden facade.
Some walked openly upon this land of luxury and greed, proudly flaunting the power behind them.
Others slipped into the shadows, quietly stalking their prey—each driven by their own dark motives.
Countless forces poured into this gilded city, all waiting—watching—for the moment the fabled “world-destroying” Devil Fruit would emerge.
But none of them knew—
That an invisible net had already closed in around them, vast and silent as the coming dark.
And at its center stood one Marine—
Rogers Darren—
Harboring one mad, impossible idea.
—To take them all down.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 292: Chapter 194: The Auction Begins
Summary:
"Even in silence, the sharpest blades are already drawn."
Chapter Text
Inside a luxury hotel suite—
Darren lounged back on a leather sofa, a lit cigar resting between his lips, fully focused on the map spread out in his hands.
It was a detailed chart of the Island of Coins, purchased at a high price from an information broker. It clearly outlined the island’s terrain, structure, building layout, and the positions of each trade port.
Less than an hour remained before the auction began.
Darren needed to confirm every piece of intel he had and refine his plan as much as possible before it all kicked off.
He never believed in effortless success—unless, of course, you were Borsalino.
As he studied the map, Darren marked the known positions of various pirate crews around the island’s ports and began considering how to best distribute his limited forces.
Viewed from above, the Island of Coins truly resembled its name—a perfect circle.
The “coin’s” edges were surrounded by sea. The closer one got to the center, the denser the commercial districts became—banks, trade halls, and financial institutions all clustered tightly.
At the very center of the “coin” stood the main auction venue.
Their operation this time had been rushed. Manpower was limited.
On top of the pirate forces that had already surfaced, they still had to account for the unpredictable threat of Golden Lion Shiki.
Which meant Darren had to be even more careful—flawless, if possible.
Knock knock knock.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Darren called, flicking ash from his cigar.
“Commodore Darren, your iced whiskey.”
A young Marine stepped in, respectfully offering a glass of liquor.
“Mm. Thanks.”
Darren smiled faintly and casually pulled out a colorful wad of bills, handing them over.
“N-no, that’s not necessary, Commodore Darren!”
The young man waved his hands frantically, face flushed.
“Go ahead, take it,” Darren said, sipping his drink, eyes still on the map.
“I’m not in the habit of letting people work for free.”
“It’s really fine! Just being able to serve you is an honor!” the soldier replied, visibly overwhelmed.
That finally drew Darren’s gaze upward.
The young Marine wore a cap low over slightly disheveled black hair. His face looked tired, but his eyes shone with admiration and awe.
Though still youthful, there was an unmistakable firmness in his expression.
Darren chuckled, letting it go.
“Alright then.”
The Marine scratched his head, flustered.
“I-I didn’t mean to turn down your kindness. I’m just so excited... Commodore Darren, I’ve admired you for a long time. You brought peace to the chaos of the North Blue… You even took down Byrnndi World…”
He stumbled over his words, breathless with admiration.
“You’re the idol I’ve always wanted to follow!”
Darren couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of this young man glowing with fanboy energy.
“What’s your name?”
The Marine straightened up as if electrified, saluted sharply, and declared:
“Marine Headquarters Lieutenant Arthur, reporting to Commodore Darren!”
“My dream in joining the Marines was to protect the peace, uphold justice, and change the world—just like you!”
The words rang with youthful fervor.
Arthur…
Darren whispered the name to himself.
He couldn’t help but notice—perhaps it was just an illusion—but this young Marine’s aura bore a faint resemblance to Dragon, back before his defection.
That intense sense of justice. That slightly idealistic, dramatic air…
Remarkably similar.
“Changing the world isn’t easy,” Darren said suddenly, smiling.
“Arthur, would you like to serve under me?”
Arthur froze—then his eyes widened with joy.
“Can I really!?”
“Of course,” Darren replied.
“All it takes is a word to Admiral Sengoku.”
Perhaps, somewhere deep down, this offer was a way to honor the memory of an old friend.
“Th-thank you, sir! I won’t let you down!!”
Arthur bowed deeply, hands trembling with excitement.
Darren gave a soft laugh.
“Just do your best.”
For him, it was a minor gesture. But for Arthur, it meant everything.
Why not?
…
The auction hall was deafening with shouting and noise.
Packed to the brim, the venue resembled a gladiator’s arena. At the center was a red-carpeted circular stage, surrounded by rows upon rows of seats.
Above those seats, luxurious VIP booths were enclosed by one-way glass—guaranteeing privacy and shielding their occupants from prying eyes.
“Darren, how the hell did you score a VIP box?”
Inside Suite 3A, Admiral Sengoku looked down from the panoramic window at the crowded arena below, marveling aloud.
The suite was extravagantly furnished—plates of fruits and snacks, the finest cigars and liquors from across the world.
The waiter had even subtly suggested that more “entertainment options” were available—free of charge.
As Sengoku puffed a cigar worth over 300,000 berries and sipped wine that probably equaled his annual salary, he couldn’t help but feel…
Had he wasted his whole life fighting wars?
“Three hundred million berries. VIP status.”
Darren replied flatly.
PFFT!!
Sengoku choked, spraying wine everywhere.
He stared in disbelief at Darren, who sat cross-legged, utterly relaxed.
“Three—three hundred million!?”
That’s enough to build three warships!!
Darren grinned.
“Admiral Sengoku, this mission is too critical to mess up.”
“Our identities must remain secret. If we’re exposed, the entire auction could go up in flames. We’d lose our shot at the More-More Fruit altogether.”
Sengoku twitched.
Darren wasn’t wrong.
As Marines, they couldn’t afford to be recognized. If chaos broke out and the auction was canceled—they might never even see the fruit.
Still… Three hundred million!?
Sengoku paused—then narrowed his eyes, locking onto the table full of rare fruits and vintage drinks.
The money was spent. He wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
As Sengoku focused on sampling everything within arm’s reach, a man in a black tailcoat stepped onto the central stage below.
Grasping a microphone, he bowed with practiced elegance and smiled to the restless crowd.
“We extend our heartfelt thanks to all the honored guests who have traveled from around the world to attend this exclusive event, hosted by the esteemed Lord Lu Feld.”
“On behalf of Lord Feld, welcome.”
A few voices in the crowd shouted back:
“Cut the crap and start already!”
“Yeah, we don’t have all day!”
“Some of us have real things to do!”
The auctioneer chuckled politely.
“It seems you’re eager to begin. Very well—I won’t waste any more time.”
“Let us begin the auction!”
“For our first item of the evening…”
He gestured, and several black-suited guards carried a long box onto the stage.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Spotlights flared. The box opened.
The auctioneer’s voice rang out, rich with drama:
“Our opening item is a legendary blade—crafted by a master smith of the South Blue.”
“One of the Fifty Skillful Grade blades—Kariumi!”
--
To be continued…
Chapter 293: Chapter 195: Worth Every Berry
Chapter Text
One of the Skillful Grade Blades—Kariumi!
The very first auction item detonated the entire room like a spark in dry grass.
As spotlights blazed onto the long glass case holding the blade, a collective hunger ignited in the eyes of the crowd. Greed shimmered. Tension mounted.
Those who practiced the sword arts were the most enthralled, their gazes burning with desire. Some even looked ready to leap onto the stage and snatch it by force.
Under the spotlight’s gleam, the sword known as Kariumi radiated a silvery-white sheen—its edge whispering of death.
The auctioneer, clad in a black tailcoat, looked pleased with the reaction. His impassioned voice rang out over the mic, echoing across the grand hall:
“This sword—Kariumi—was forged over ten years by a master smith of the South Blue. In the hands of a great swordsman, it once split the sea in a single swing. It gained the name ‘Kariumi’—Hunter of the Sea!”
“The blade is at least 30% heavier than most of its class, significantly increasing strike force. As one of the rare fifty Skillful Grade Blades, its value needs no further elaboration.”
“Well then—no more delay. The starting bid is…”
With a flourish, he raised both hands.
“One hundred million berries!!”
The moment the words left his mouth, a wild-looking pirate dressed in ronin garb leapt to his feet. A long sword hung at his waist. His eyes blazed.
“One hundred and twenty million berries!!”
Laughter boomed from another direction.
“Hahaha!! Kenshin, you sword-swinging freak—this one’s not yours to take!”
A deep, growling voice emerged from a hulking bald man with a giant axe strapped to his back. He radiated bloodlust like a beast.
“I bid one hundred and thirty million!”
His eyes locked onto the ronin with open hostility—clearly more than just a bidding war.
“Brutebear! You bastard, you’re not even a swordsman!” Kenshin snarled, teeth clenched.
Brutebear sneered.
“So what? Plenty of swordsmen in my crew.”
It was obvious to everyone—this was more than competition. This was personal.
…
The bidding roared on below.
Up in the luxury suite, the room was thick with cigar smoke. Sengoku had two cigars in his mouth at once, the air around him hazy and pungent.
“That’s a fine blade.”
He glanced at the Skillful Grade Blade Kariumi, nodding with genuine appreciation.
In this vast sea, the Skillful Grade Blades were already elite. The rarer Great Grade Blades and the near-mythic Supreme Grade Blades were nearly impossible to find—most already in the hands of top-tier fighters.
He remembered the gift he once gave Gion for her birthday—Konpira, a Great Grade Blade. Just acquiring that had taken months of favors, influence, and persistence.
A clear sign of how precious named swords were in this world.
And now—Lu Feld, the so-called “Loan Shark King,” had chosen to begin the auction with a Skillful Grade Blade?
Everyone knew: the best items were saved for last.
To lead with something of this caliber—it spoke volumes about the underworld’s vast resources.
“Still… the bidding’s going high. Even for a Skillful Grade Blade, one hundred million is usually the max.”
As the current bid climbed to 150 million, Sengoku shook his head, clearly unimpressed by the heated rivalry between Kenshin and Brutebear.
“Pirates—always impulsive and idiotic…”
He sighed.
Then came a calm voice.
“I bid two hundred million.”
Sengoku: ??
He turned, stunned.
Darren sat there, legs crossed, completely unbothered.
“Suite 3A has bid two hundred million berries!!” the auctioneer shouted in delight, nearly jumping.
“Our honored guest shows once again why he is worthy of VIP status—what generosity!”
The crowd froze.
Silence blanketed the hall. All eyes turned toward Suite 3A, stunned.
Especially Brutebear and Kenshin—who stood there dumbfounded.
Who the hell bids like that?
Everyone else had been increasing in five-to-ten million increments—and here comes someone jumping fifty million like it was nothing?
Trying to show off?
Inside the suite—
“You lunatic!! It’s just a Skillful Grade Blade! Not even a Great Grade!”
Sengoku grabbed Darren’s collar, looking like he might explode.
“Two hundred million! Do you know how many things you could do with that!?”
“That sword’s not worth two hundred million!”
Darren, unfazed, replied coolly:
“It’s just two hundred million. I think it’s fair.”
Sengoku looked as if lightning had struck him.
“Two hundred million… just…?”
His mind spun—calculating what that could buy: two warships, gear for two hundred elite soldiers, wages for two thousand troops—
“But you don’t even use swords!!”
He was practically gnashing his teeth.
Darren smiled.
“Collecting named swords is my hobby.”
A gleam of steel flashed in his eyes.
Kariumi had a “heavy” property that enhanced slashing force—something Darren valued.
His magnetic blade control had become increasingly refined. His primary weapon, Enma, was powerful but drained Haki at an alarming rate.
A backup blade—one that required no Haki—would make his strategy more flexible.
Especially in large-scale battles, one Enma wasn’t enough.
Ideally, Darren wanted to collect more named blades. Dozens. Hundreds.
An entire sword array controlled by magnetism—transforming into a storm of blades raining from the sky.
Even without Haki, their sheer sharpness and cutting power—when guided by magnetic force—could far exceed conventional artillery.
And as for the price?
Don’t be ridiculous. With the treasure from Skypiea’s golden city in his pocket—
Darren was rich beyond belief.
He couldn’t run out of money if he tried.
And collecting legendary swords?
That was joy.
It wasn’t about “worth.” It was about vision.
Only fifty such blades existed in the world.
Any price was justified.
And for Darren?
Two hundred million berries was nothing.
Totally worth it.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 294: Chapter 196: Strange Auction Items
Summary:
"In a room full of bidders, power speaks without raising its voice."
Chapter Text
“Two hundred million Berry from the guest in Suite 3A! Do we have a higher bid!?”
The auctioneer’s voice trembled with excitement as he leaned toward the mic, arms flaring theatrically.
“One of only fifty named blades in the entire world!”
“For a mere two hundred million Berry, you could own a powerful weapon—one that grows with its wielder! A partner for a swordsman’s journey!”
“Any other bids?”
His words were charged with energy—expertly crafted.
But despite his fervor, the hall had gone quiet.
That price had killed the competition.
Even here in the New World, two hundred million Berry was no small sum.
The swordsman named Kenshin frowned deeply—then reluctantly sat back down.
The price had exceeded his budget.
Brutebear gave a cold snort and fell silent as well.
Meanwhile, in Suite 2A…
“Brother Perospero, should we place a bid?” Daifuku stared eagerly at Kariumi, eyes sparkling.
Perospero shook his head and sneered.
“Our funds are tight. Totto Land’s expansion demands massive budget allocation. Forget it—focus on the More-More Fruit.”
He paused, his crimson tongue flicking out to lick the corner of his lips, gaze narrowing coldly toward Suite 3A.
Though the glass wall blocked his view, suspicion simmered in his eyes.
“And besides… who said that sword’s going to stay in that suite for long?”
Daifuku caught his meaning instantly—and let out a low, sinister chuckle.
In Suite 1A—
King the Wildfire stood motionless at the window, gaze empty, his expression beneath the mask unreadable.
Onstage, the auctioneer launched into his countdown.
“Two hundred million—going once!”
“Two hundred million—going twice!”
“Two hundred million—sold!”
With a graceful bow toward Suite 3A, he smiled.
“Congratulations to our honored guest for acquiring this unparalleled blade.”
A team of black-suited guards quickly ascended the stage, packaged Kariumi, and delivered it to Darren’s suite.
“Now then… let us welcome the second item in our auction!”
The auctioneer raised his hand, seamlessly continuing the event.
Soon, a small wooden box was brought forth.
The lid lifted.
Under the spotlights, a strange, deep brown fruit appeared.
“A Devil Fruit!”
“What kind is it? Doesn’t look like the More-More Fruit.”
“That pattern… looks like a Zoan-type!”
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
The auctioneer spread his arms in a showman’s gesture, explaining:
“As you can see, this is a Zoan-type Devil Fruit.”
“Bear-Bear Fruit, Model: Brown Bear. Consume this, and gain the raw power and physique of a brown bear!”
“In the wild, brown bears are among the most powerful land predators. With proper mastery, this fruit could make someone a tyrant on land—strong enough to rival even full-grown giants!”
“And now—the starting bid is: one hundred million Berry!”
At once, interest stirred across the room.
Many attendees knew the More-More Fruit was far beyond their reach.
From the start, their sights had been on the other auction items.
The Brown Bear Fruit lacked flash—but it offered solid, reliable strength. For New World pirates looking to survive, it was ideal.
“Hahaha! This Devil Fruit is tailor-made for me!!”
A booming voice rang out.
It was Brutebear again, leaping to his feet.
“I bid one hundred million Berry!”
His gaze gleamed with greedy certainty, flicking smugly toward Suite 3A.
“You must be kicking yourself now, sucker. Spent two hundred million on a useless sword—let’s see how you fight me for this!”
But before he could finish basking—
A familiar, calm voice echoed from Suite 3A.
“Two hundred million Berry.”
Brutebear: …
Around him, pirates chuckled. Brutebear’s face turned red with rage.
Damn it! Who the hell is this guy!?
How does he have so much money!?
In Suite 1A—
“Lord King, shall we bid?” one of the Beasts Pirates knelt respectfully before the tall, shadowy figure.
“This fruit would suit our crew well.”
King stared at Suite 3A.
Then slowly shook his head.
“No need.”
The crew member froze—then bowed even lower.
…
“Darren, you’ve lost it! That’s just a common Zoan fruit!!”
Sengoku clutched his chest like he’d been shot.
Watching Darren casually hand the butler a check—zeros stretching across the paper—hurt more than any wound ever could.
Darren smiled.
“It’s fine. Just two hundred million. Worth it.”
Sengoku: …
Onstage, the next auction began.
“Let us once again congratulate the honored guest in Suite 3A for acquiring this mighty Devil Fruit!”
“But now, we present something truly… unique.”
As a black-draped glass display case was brought forth, the auctioneer’s tone shifted—mysterious and theatrical.
“This item is neither a weapon nor a rare fruit.”
“It’s not a treasure map—not even treasure. To some, it may seem less valuable than scrap paper. But to the right collector—it is priceless.”
“I assure you, even here on the Island of Coins, obtaining this item was no easy feat!”
The room tensed—curiosity lighting every face.
The auctioneer grinned at the reaction.
“Now then… the starting price is, once again: one hundred million Berry!”
With a dramatic flick, he pulled away the cloth.
Everyone in the auction froze.
Sengoku’s brow furrowed.
Borsalino scratched his head.
Darren blinked.
Inside the glass case…
Hung a tight-fitting, slightly worn, peach-colored dress—clearly designed for an extremely curvaceous figure.
The auctioneer roared:
“Behold! A dress once worn by the infamous Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin!”
He raised one hand triumphantly.
“—And it hasn’t been washed!!”
The room plunged into stunned silence.
Then—
BANG!!
The door to Suite 2A burst open.
Perospero and Daifuku stormed out, radiating killing intent.
Their eyes burned. Their aura was terrifying.
With murderous fury, they roared:
“The Charlotte Family bids two hundred million Berry!!”
“Anyone who dares to compete—becomes our enemy!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 295: Chapter 197: The Grand Finale — The More-More Fruit!!
Summary:
"Before the storm, even laughter tastes like blood."
Chapter Text
A deafening silence swept the entire auction hall.
All eyes were fixed on the tight-fitting dress in the glass case… and the two Charlotte high-ranking officers storming out of Suite 2A, their rage palpable.
Inside the luxury suite:
Sengoku: …
Darren: …
Black worry lines appeared on both their foreheads.
“Scary… the killing intent radiating from those two…” Borsalino remarked, smirking faintly.
“They’re… quite effective auctioneers,” Darren finally managed to say after a tense pause.
Is this… “original scent”?!
But this is Big Mom we’re talking about!!
A vivid mental image flashed into Darren’s mind—a grotesque, massive figure ravenously devouring enemies, sending shivers down his spine.
Who in their right mind would buy that?!
Wait—
Darren’s instincts screamed.
He focused sharply on the dress in the glass—sleek, blood-stained, clearly made for a curvaceous figure.
The size was all wrong…
There was no way the bloated, misshapen form of today’s Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin—could ever fit into such a tight, seductive dress!
Then he remembered his timeline.
Sea Circle Calendar 1493 — nine years after the God Valley incident, and over twenty years before the Summit War…
Could it be—
“Admiral Sengoku,” Darren asked, voice low. “Do you know what Charlotte Linlin looks like now?”
Sengoku was silent for two heartbeats, then motioned for a Marine beside him.
The Marine produced a bounty poster, tore one sheet off, and slapped it on the table with a loud slap.
There it was.
Darren: “…Oh.”
He could almost understand now.
Still—who would actually bid on that?
And with the entire Charlotte Family already issuing threats—it seemed unlikely.
Until—
“Who do you think you are?! I’ll bid two hundred and ten million Berry!!”
A pirate with a cocked mohawk jumped up, defiant, glares aimed straight at Perospero and Daifuku.
“This dress is mine!”
A wave of bids crashed forward like a tidal surge.
“Who are you!? Two hundred and thirty million Berry!!”
A rotund man in a Mafioso suit lit a golden cigar.
He eyed the dress with raw, unapologetic lust.
“Heh heh heh—I’m at two hundred and forty million.”
Another voice—this time soft and noble—joined the bidding.
The roar of offers exploded among the crowd, breath ragged, pulses racing:
“Two hundred and fifty million Berry!!”
“I bid…”
“…”
Hearing the skyrocketing bids, the Charlotte brothers’ blood ran cold. Their chests heaved as their whole bodies trembled with rage.
“Charlotte Family—three hundred million Berry!!” Perospero snarled, voice cold and eldritch.
“If someone else gets this dress, we’ll be laughed out of the seas!!”
This isn’t money anymore—it’s pride!
Perverted obsession!
“…They’re true gentlemen,” Darren mused, lips twitching, voice flat.
The higher-ranking you are, the weirder your fetishes.
Just look at the Celestial Dragons.
And now this—the reigning terror of the seas, Big Mom… and her dress?
At three hundred million Berry, Darren smirked inwardly: “Some people sure know how to play…”
---
Three minutes later, with a final bang of the gavel:
The dress once worn by Charlotte Linlin—the “original scent” intact—was sold to the Charlotte brothers for an astonishing three hundred and forty million Berry.
Thud.
The auctioneer’s hammer fell.
Brows knitted with disappointment by many.
But the Charlotte pair? Their faces were deathly pale.
“Odd, isn’t it… They got what they wanted, yet look like killers standing there…”
Borsalino’s timely commentary broke their silence.
Sengoku: …
Darren: …
The auction resumed its "normal" pace:
Finely crafted armors entered the stage;
Hallucinogenic elixirs followed;
Strapping human slaves paraded by;
Exquisitely beautiful mermaids displayed like jewels.
Forbidden items of all kinds shone brightly—tempting every gaze.
Darren bid on a few select items himself. The other bidders backed off as he paid them no mind—ah, the sheer power of someone who holds “money beyond measure.”
By the time the event concluded, Suite 3A had spent over a billion Berry. A sum few could match.
---
Meanwhile, in a shadowed corner—
Marco watched, quietly agape.
Over a billion Berry… that’s enough for my crew to survive for years…
And elsewhere—
The Charlotte brothers, face-to-face with Darren’s suite, harbored deep-seated hostility.
“Brother…”
“This guy… he’s not ordinary.”
Perospero’s voice was grim. “Even our family brought only five hundred million Berry total…”
To casually spend over a billion.
They exchanged glances—and formed a chilling vow:
Once the More-More Fruit appears, deal with that 3A guy first, then handle King!
---
Meanwhile, King’s icy gaze toward Suite 3A sharpened.
As the auction neared its end, tension became suffocating.
Every organization in that room knew—
A brutal struggle was looming.
And the owner of Suite 3A—the mysterious, resource-rich target—was about to become the focus of countless threats.
Even if they failed to seize the More-More Fruit, attacking that man would be just as valuable.
Perhaps he was worth even more than the Fruit itself!
In that instant, countless hostile stares, laden with malice, shifted toward Suite 3A.
---
“Let us congratulate the guest in Suite 3A for obtaining this item. And now—finally—the grand finale!!”
Nagging drumbeats rose.
Spotlights multiplied.
The man in the tailcoat stood center-stage—arms open, presiding like a conductor over one last symphony. His eyes glowed.
“Ladies and gentlemen—”
Swish!
With a sudden motion, the stage floor opened. A platform ascended, holding…
A glass box, eerily illuminated—and inside…
A Devil Fruit pulsed with an unsettling aura.
The audience gasped collectively.
“—The More-More Fruit!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 296: Chapter 198: The "Zero-Cost" Auction
Summary:
“When power appears within reach, even wolves in hiding bare their fangs.”
Chapter Text
More-More Fruit!!
The Devil Fruit once wielded by the former legendary pirate, the “World Destroyer” Byrnndi World!
An immensely powerful ability that can multiply the speed of its user—or the size of any object it touches—by dozens, even hundreds of times!
Even an ordinary cannon, under the amplification of the More-More Fruit, could be transformed into a monstrous weapon of destruction, capable of leveling an entire medium-sized town in an instant.
It was precisely this terrifying power that allowed Byrnndi World to withstand the encirclement of the Marines—and even defy the World Government—earning the dreaded title of “World Destroyer,” a name that struck fear into the hearts of all who sailed these seas.
But after Byrnndi World met his end in the North Blue a year ago—brought down by a single Marine commodore—many refused to believe it. Yet even more began scouring the seas in secret, desperately hunting for the More-More Fruit.
And now, after lying dormant for over a year, this invincible Devil Fruit had finally resurfaced—displayed openly before the eyes of all those present.
As the spotlight shone down upon the Devil Fruit resting within a glass case, the audience’s eyes flared with red-hot greed. Their breaths quickened involuntarily.
“It’s real!!”
“I thought that bastard Lu Feld was just using it as bait!”
“Worthy of the ‘God of Fortune,’ he actually managed to obtain such a priceless treasure…”
“The fight to come will be brutal…”
“Hehehe… maybe in the chaos, we’ll get our chance too…”
“……”
The entire hall was in an uproar. Repressed desires erupted in full force.
Pirate crews and members of dark syndicates gathered tightly with their comrades, faces twisted with aggression, eyes scanning the room with hostility.
Sure, the Big Mom Pirates and Beasts Pirates were here—dominant forces in the New World—but so what!?
This was the underworld!
A tangled web of factions, filled with pirates and outlaws who lived by the sword and kept their lives hanging by a thread. The big names of the Beasts Pirates and Big Mom Pirates didn’t scare them in the slightest!
—As long as the prize was worth it!
And the More-More Fruit was the ultimate prize!
Even a sliver of a chance was something they would never pass up.
Their eyes gleamed like wolves, locked greedily onto the Devil Fruit on the stage.
With that power, forget the "King the Wildfire". Forget the high-ranking officers of the Charlotte family. Even if Kaido and Big Mom themselves stepped onto the stage, they would not be feared!
The greater the risk, the greater the reward—that was the very creed of pirates.
And most importantly, they still had a chance.
From the look of things, the three most powerful factions present—the Beasts Pirates, the Big Mom Pirates, and the mysterious owner of VIP Box 3A—would undoubtedly be the first to strike.
While those giants clashed in mortal combat, that would be the perfect moment for the rest to strike.
—Every pirate and dark force present had come to the same conclusion.
…
“It’s finally here!! That’s the More-More Fruit!!”
Daifuku’s voice trembled with excitement, his heartbeat racing.
“Brother Perospero, once we seize it, our Big Mom Pirates will become even stronger! Even those arrogant giants will kneel before us!”
Perospero chuckled darkly.
“Not just the giants. With the More-More Fruit’s power… not even the Whitebeard Pirates could stand against us.”
“Then we’ll help Mama create the true Totto Land! A utopia where all races live in harmony and equality!!”
He licked his lips with a scarlet tongue, both hands gripping his candy cane tightly.
…
“Lord King!! That’s our target!!”
A horned pirate lay trembling atop a glass platform, eyes bloodshot as he stared at the More-More Fruit.
Clad in jet-black armor and fully shrouded, King gave a silent nod. A cold, killing intent seeped from behind his mask.
“Are the others in position?”
The pirate jolted, saluted with a raised hand.
“Yes, Lord King!”
“All units are already in place, stationed at every exit of the auction hall… This time we’ve equipped the virus bombs developed by Lord Queen. Just a whiff can render someone powerless—or burn them alive from within due to body heat!”
“No one will be able to withstand a virus bomb attack. No one will be able to contest the More-More Fruit with us!”
King nodded, his voice low and grim.
“Good.”
Massive black wings slowly unfurled behind him, surrounded by eerie, crimson flames that curled around his feathers.
…
VIP Box 3A.
“The More-More Fruit…”
Sengoku gulped, staring fixedly at the Devil Fruit, its strange aura unsettling even him.
At this moment, even he had to admit—his heart stirred.
Sengoku, once Byrnndi World’s greatest adversary, knew all too well the devastating power of the More-More Fruit.
If they could secure it, and harness its power properly, the Marines would gain a formidable new asset—
A strategic-level combatant.
“Lu Feld’s more honest than I thought… actually placing the real More-More Fruit on the auction block.”
Darren was equally surprised.
By all logic, a treasure as priceless as the More-More Fruit shouldn’t have been displayed so openly.
Too risky. Too likely to get “zero-cost purchased.”
Normally, the auctioneer would finalize the deal, then conduct a private exchange with the highest bidder.
But then again, this was the underworld—cash-and-carry was the norm.
Lu Feld, held the title of the Loan Shark King—but to these bloodthirsty pirates, that meant nothing.
And come to think of it, this wasn’t unheard of.
In the original story, Doflamingo had also “generously” put the real Gol-Gol Fruit on the auction stage, only for Tesoro to snatch it up cheap.
Not to mention the Flame-Flame Fruit in the Colosseum…
Businessmen. Always honest.
“Kid, are you confident about this?”
Sengoku sounded increasingly anxious.
“I’m sure both the Big Mom Pirates and the Beasts Pirates will make a move…”
As he spoke, he kept casting wary glances above the auction hall, as if bracing for a fearsome presence to arrive.
Darren just smiled.
But before he could reply, the tuxedoed auctioneer below had already begun his impassioned introduction.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 297: Chapter 199: Chaos Ignites
Chapter Text
“...The More-More Fruit!! The Devil Fruit once wielded by the legendary pirate, Byrnndi World!!”
“If you obtain the power of the More-More Fruit... you could become the next ‘World Destroyer’ feared even by the World Government!!”
The auctioneer remained as professional as ever. His voice, posture, and delivery were electrifying—just a few words were enough to ignite the crowd. The audience’s eyes burned red with frenzy.
“Now, let the bidding begin!”
“The starting price for this More-More Fruit is... 500 million Berries!!”
The moment the words left his mouth, the entire hall exploded with excitement.
Considering Byrnndi World’s bounty had once been 300 million Berries, no one was surprised by the starting price.
“The Big Mom Pirates bid 600 million Berries!”
Perospero was the first to shout, raising the price by a hundred million in one breath—clearly an attempt to intimidate the competition.
But before his voice had even faded, a cold response rang from Box 1A:
“The Beasts Pirates, 700 million.”
“That damned bastard!”
Perospero cursed, glaring furiously in the direction of King’s private box. Grinding his teeth, he raised the bid again:
“The Big Mom Pirates bid 800 million Berries!”
His grip tightened around his candy cane. He gave Daifuku a subtle glance.
Eight hundred million—this was the limit of the Big Mom Pirates’ auction budget. If they couldn’t win the fruit with this bid, they would make their move.
“800 million Berries!! Truly worthy of being one of the most powerful pirate forces in the New World—the Big Mom Pirates have raised it to 800 million!!”
The auctioneer flushed with excitement.
He could already picture the hefty commission he would collect after the auction ended.
King, seated in the Beasts Pirates' box, fell silent.
Eight hundred million was also their limit.
They had only just entered Wano, and their military factories were still under reconstruction. Funding was extremely tight.
Even gathering 800 million Berries for this auction had been incredibly difficult.
But just then, a calm voice rang out once more from VIP Box 3A:
“One billion Berries.”
A hush fell over the room.
All eyes turned toward the 3A box, stunned. No one could believe what they’d just heard.
That man... after spending over a billion Berries already, still had another billion in cash at his disposal!?
And judging by the ease in his voice, this wasn’t even his full budget.
Most importantly...
Everyone present knew very well that the Beasts Pirates and the Big Mom Pirates had come for the More-More Fruit.
Yet this man in Box 3A dared to bid against both crews?
He clearly didn’t take them seriously!
Was he not afraid to die?
This was practically a direct challenge to two powerful crews!
“One billion Berries!! This mysterious and noble guest has raised the bid to an astounding one billion!! Even on Coin Island, this is a historic first!!”
The auctioneer fanned the flames skillfully:
“With nothing but his own voice, he’s outbid two of the most fearsome pirate crews!! Incredible!!”
“So, will the Big Mom Pirates and the Beasts Pirates respond with a higher offer?”
“Or will even they—mighty as they are—have no choice but to yield before the might of gold?”
“Let’s hold our breath and see—”
BOOM!!
Twin explosions thundered from Boxes 1A and 2A simultaneously.
Floor-to-ceiling glass walls shattered to pieces as three furious figures burst out, flying straight toward Box 3A.
At last, the violence had begun.
The guests in the hall tensed. Many moved silently, drawing weapons, waiting to act.
“You’re courting death!!”
Daifuku charged forward, closer than anyone. A cruel glint lit up his lifeless eyes.
As his hand brushed his golden belt, thick plumes of blue smoke erupted from it, quickly coalescing into a towering blue djinn.
Puff-Puff Fruit.
A Devil Fruit capable of summoning a mighty Genie to fight with overwhelming strength!
“You think just because you’ve got money, you can do whatever you please?”
Daifuku lunged forward. Above him, the massive Genie raised its giant naginata and brought it crashing down toward Box 3A.
Genie Slash!!
Swish!!
The powerful strike tore the luxurious box apart. Walls and glass shattered, clouds of dust billowing into the air.
Within the haze, towering silhouettes stirred—unclear, yet imposing.
Daifuku cackled, directing the Djinn to strike again at the blurred figures within.
“This is the New World! Here, only strength matters—”
“Daifuku! Get back!!” Perospero’s voice suddenly cut through, alarmed and urgent.
“Huh?” Daifuku blinked.
Before he could react, a brilliant golden light flared before him, searing his eyes and burning them to tears.
Reflexively, he shut his eyes tight.
“You ever been kicked at the speed of light?”
A languid voice sounded at his side, laced with lazy amusement.
In that instant, a chill like death ran down Daifuku’s spine.
Whoosh—
A white dress shoe, wrapped in radiant golden light, shot out from the swirling dust—leaving a streak of light in its wake.
Light-Speed Kick.
BOOM!!
Before the eyes of every stunned guest—
The beam-wreathed foot tore through the massive Genie, then slammed squarely into Daifuku’s face.
He was launched downward at a speed several times faster than he’d rushed up.
Crash!!
The impact cratered the ground like a falling meteor. Cracks spread outward, rubble and dust exploding in all directions.
Guests instinctively ducked and shielded themselves, faces filled with shock and fear.
A drop of cold sweat rolled down Perospero’s forehead.
Behind King’s mask, his pupils shrank into pinpoints.
The dust was swept away by a sudden gust of wind.
And there, standing amidst the wreckage of the shattered box—
Three towering figures emerged.
Their massive frames exuded overwhelming pressure. Behind them, pure white Justice coats billowed in the wind.
“Ma…”
“It’s the Marines!!!”
The entire auction hall froze in dead silence—
Then someone finally screamed in horror.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 298: Chapter 200: Snatch! More-More Fruit
Chapter Text
“M-Marine…”
“Damn it!! What the hell are Marines doing here!?”
“That fat bastard Lu Feld—what is he even doing!?”
“This is supposed to be an underworld auction!!”
Panic swept through the crowd. All eyes locked on the three white-coated figures. A ripple of fear surged through the hall.
Why were the Marines here?
Was this an ambush?
Had their Marine ships already surrounded the Island of Coins?
Countless thoughts churned in the pirates’ minds, setting them on edge. The more cautious or timid among them began edging toward the back of the crowd, ready to bolt at any moment.
After all, Marine operations were known for overwhelming manpower and elite equipment.
And usually, if you saw even one Marine on an island, it meant a larger force wasn’t far behind.
The smoke began to clear.
At last, the three figures standing on the wreckage emerged in full view, their overwhelming presence crashing down on the audience like a wave.
On the left stood a man in a yellow-and-white suit, Justice coat draped over his shoulders, absurdly large toad-shaped sunglasses perched on his face. With a playful smirk, he rubbed the stubble on his chin, casually lowering the leg he had just raised in midair.
On the right was a tall man with a black afro, dark glasses, and a solemn expression. The insignia of a Marine Rear Admiral gleamed on his epaulets. The air around him was heavy and commanding.
But it was the man in the center who stole all attention.
His gaze was sharp, his features both handsome and cold. Black hair whipped in the wind. Seastone shackles hung loosely from his wrists like ornaments. His aura was wild and defiant.
When the pirates saw their faces clearly, a collective gasp swept through the hall. Color drained from their faces.
“A Marine Headquarters Admiral!! Sengoku the Buddha!!”
“And that’s Rear Admiral Borsalino—the one they call a monster!!”
“And that man… wait, I’m not dreaming, am I!?”
“‘King of the North Blue’ Rogers Darren!! The Marine who took down Byrnndi World!! He’s beaten multiple legendary pirates!!”
“Wait a second! If Darren defeated Byrnndi World… is he after the More-More Fruit!?”
“Damn it!! Why are monsters from Marine Headquarters here!?”
…
Perospero’s back was soaked in cold sweat.
An admiral like Sengoku… he was on the same level as Mama herself—an absolute powerhouse!
“Damn it… it’s really an admiral…”
In the crater nearby, Daifuku clawed his way out, bloodied and swollen. He spat a mouthful of dark blood onto the dirt.
He locked eyes with Perospero.
On the other side, beneath King’s mask, his gaze grew intensely grave.
The three exchanged looks—wordless, yet perfectly understood.
The Marines.
They’d even dispatched an admiral. If they wanted the More-More Fruit, their only chance was to join forces.
A moment later, all three moved at once.
King leapt into the air. His body twisted and stretched, morphing midair into a massive black pteranodon.
His wingspan was enormous, his beak sharp as a blade. Crimson flames erupted along his body.
“Blazing Emperor!”
Dozens of fireballs burst from his wings, roaring toward the Marines.
Perospero barked out a command, swinging his candy cane staff with force.
A tidal wave of pink candy surged forward, flooding toward the ruins of Box 3A.
“Candy Tsunami!”
As a user of the Lick-Lick Fruit, he could shape candy and syrup into virtually anything—even transform enemies into candy.
Daifuku wiped the blood from his mouth, summoned his blue genie once more, and roared as he sent a massive slash flying through the air.
“Genie Hunt!”
Though they hadn’t coordinated beforehand, their attacks completely covered all possible escape routes. There was no room to dodge.
“How terrifying… these guys from the Beasts and Big Mom crews are absolute monsters,”
Borsalino muttered in a rare show of effort. His body flared with golden light and launched skyward.
Arms spread wide, he unleashed a barrage of golden light bullets that rained down like a storm, clashing with the incoming attacks.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions roared through the air. Flames and smoke engulfed the auction hall, whipping up a hellish wind that sent everyone reeling.
A moment later, twin blurs—one black, one gold—ripped through the smoke and clashed midair.
CRACK!
In human form, King’s foot slammed against Borsalino’s as the two locked in a brutal midair duel, a shockwave bursting out between them.
“I’ve heard of you… Borsalino, monster of Marine Headquarters.”
King’s eyes burned with fighting spirit.
“Have you?” Borsalino drawled, eyeing him lazily.
“Your whole body’s wrapped up tight—I can’t even tell what species you are… feels like a kind I’ve never seen before.”
King’s pupils narrowed. He clenched his jaw.
“You’re dead!”
He drew his sword with a furious roar.
Scarlet flames spiraled up the blade like a living dragon. With a mighty swing, he slashed down at the Rear Admiral.
“Oh my, did I hit a nerve…”
Borsalino, unhurried, brought his hands together. A golden sword of solid light formed between his palms.
He raised it calmly to block.
“Ama no Murakumo.”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Their silhouettes blurred into streaks of motion, darting through the air at impossible speeds. Each sword clash lit up the sky with sparks.
Elsewhere—
Perospero and Daifuku surfed their candy wave, launching themselves toward Darren and Sengoku.
“So what if you’re an admiral!?”
“Let’s see if you deserve that title…”
They sneered viciously.
But the next second, brilliant golden light exploded in front of them, washing everything from their sight.
“You two? Against me?”
The voice thundered through the hall.
…
“They’re fighting!!”
Panic overtook the room. Screams of terror echoed.
The guests watched in horror as the Marines and the pirates clashed. The auction hall trembled under the pressure of their battle, on the verge of collapse.
“We’ll all die if this keeps up…”
“Run… we need to run…”
“Get out of here!!”
“If we don’t move now, we’re done for!!”
Pirates from the New World turned pale as they shoved toward the exits in chaos.
If this had been a unit led by a regular Vice Admiral, they might’ve stood their ground.
But an admiral?
They didn’t even have the courage to try.
Still, not everyone chose to flee.
“HAHAHAHA!! The More-More Fruit is mine!!”
A bald pirate named Brutebear suddenly sprang from the crowd, making a mad dash for the auction stage.
And he wasn’t alone.
Dozens of pirates who thought themselves strong enough joined the charge.
Total chaos.
The Marines were occupied with the Big Mom and Beasts crews—
Which meant now was the perfect time to steal the fruit!!
The mob surged forward!
“Protect the auction item!!”
The tuxedoed auctioneer screamed in panic.
Dozens of security guards in black suits dropped from above, wielding various weapons and firearms, forming a protective circle around the More-More Fruit.
They opened fire without hesitation.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 299: Chapter 201: Shadows in the Sky
Chapter Text
Chaos raged on.
Amid the rubble of the 3A box, Darren stood motionless, eyes calm, surveying the turmoil below from his elevated perch. The entire battlefield unfolded beneath him.
Above, Borsalino and King clashed like lightning in the sky. Lasers and fire met in fierce collisions, sending shockwaves scattering in all directions—gods knew how many bystanders had already been caught in the crossfire.
Yet, for all of King’s ferocity, Borsalino looked utterly relaxed. He would lazily fire off a few beams, swing his Ama no Murakumo with half-hearted flair, and add in a few irritating quips—like he was merely humoring his opponent.
Not far away, Sengoku was on the move.
Facing both Perospero and Daifuku, he demonstrated overwhelming dominance. The towering golden Buddha loomed at the center of the hall, each casual sweep of his hand sending crashing shockwaves that sent the Charlotte brothers staggering, blood spilling from their mouths.
Darren cast them only a brief glance before turning away.
They were decent. Competent with Haki, strong command of their Devil Fruits. But they were still young—barely in their twenties. Far from their peak forms in the original timeline.
And even at their best, they would never be a match for Sengoku, a veteran admiral.
They were simply outclassed.
As for the More-More Fruit—
Greedy pirates and underworld agents surged toward the auction platform in waves, eyes bloodshot. Lu Feld’s men held them off as best they could with superior firepower, but it was only just enough.
Darren watched for a few seconds, then drew his conclusion:
They wouldn't reach the fruit. Not yet.
“So…” he murmured, eyes narrowing. A cold smile curled his lips.
“When exactly are you planning to show up, Golden Lion Shiki?”
He lifted his gaze toward the open sky above the auction.
Waiting.
Suddenly—
Rumble.
A section of the auction wall gave way with a crash, bricks and dust tumbling down.
Dozens of terrified pirates stumbled from the smoke, fleeing for their lives.
“Kahahaha!! I knew it!!”
A harsh, growling laugh tore through the air.
A black boot stepped from the smoke—
Crack! It crushed the head of a wounded pirate underfoot, splattering blood.
The ground trembled slightly under the sheer force of the stomp.
Then he appeared.
A massive figure strode forward, dragging the limp body of another pirate in one hand.
He wore a sharp black military uniform. Wild golden hair whipped around him in the wind. His aura was brutal and beastlike, eyes glinting with madness.
With a careless swing, he hurled the unconscious pirate into the wall—blood splattered wide.
Then he looked up, eyes wild with bloodlust.
“Darren!! The moment you opened your mouth during the bidding—I knew it was you!!”
Douglas Bullet locked eyes with the Marine Rear Admiral standing in the ruins of Box 3A, pointing at him with his metal arm.
“Been a long time!!”
The moment his words ended, a monstrous pressure erupted from his body, surging across the entire hall like a crashing tide.
Everything stopped.
Colors seemed to drain from the world. Only shades of grey remained.
Pirates halted mid-fight. Their gazes grew dull.
Then, as if struck by lightning, realization hit them.
“A member of the Roger Pirates!!”
“Douglas Bullet! The demon who destroyed an entire nation’s army!!”
“The ‘Demon Heir’—bounty, 300 million!!”
“He’s here too!?”
“Damn it!!”
“That aura—like a walking natural disaster!!”
Weaker fighters dropped to one knee without realizing, raising their arms to shield their faces, eyes filled with dread.
Then—
BOOM.
Another massive wave of Conqueror’s Haki exploded—this one from the sky.
From Darren.
Everyone forced their eyes upward.
A storm of pressure poured from Darren’s body, no weaker than Bullet’s.
The air cracked. Red and black lightning surged like rivers clashing in the sky.
Their Haki collided in a titanic storm—two tides, one crimson, one black, battling for supremacy.
Thunder boomed across the auction hall. Walls cracked. Seats splintered. Even the ground split apart beneath the weight of their wills.
The sky darkened.
“A clash of Conqueror’s Haki…”
Sengoku sent Perospero and Daifuku flying with a golden shockwave, then paused. He narrowed his eyes at the golden-haired figure laughing maniacally across the hall.
“So that’s Douglas Bullet,” he muttered. “His Conqueror’s Haki… this powerful? Even Roger’s crew is showing up now…”
“Found your opening!!”
Daifuku suddenly lunged from the side, blood still dripping from his mouth.
“Genie Hunt!!”
The massive blue genie raised its naginata, swinging down hard at Sengoku’s face.
“Tch… This is getting ridiculous.”
Sengoku frowned.
He’d been holding back, saving his strength in case Shiki showed.
But these two—did they really think they could take him on?
“If you want to kill me—tell your mother to come do it herself!!”
With that, golden light erupted from his body.
The golden Buddha reached out with immense force, catching the genie’s naginata in one hand.
Then—
In Daifuku’s bloodshot, trembling eyes, the massive golden palm descended.
SLAM!!
It hit like a landslide. Half the auction hall crumbled in the impact. The floor and walls cracked, rubble flying in every direction.
As dust billowed upward, the storm of Conqueror’s Haki began to fade.
...
“Darren!! Let’s fight to our hearts’ content!! Kahahaha!!”
Bullet stomped on a chunk of rubble, laughing maniacally.
Darren didn’t even look at him.
“I don’t have time to play with you. Go find someone else.”
Bullet’s smile froze.
But before he could react, the sky darkened.
Clouds gathered, swirling like black ink.
The air grew cold.
A vast, crushing pressure descended—thick with death, bloodlust, and malice. It blanketed the entire Island of Coins.
Darren, Sengoku, Bullet—every powerful fighter present—looked up, faces tensing, pupils shrinking.
“Jihahahaha!! Looks like the party’s just getting started!!”
A cruel, arrogant laugh echoed from beyond the clouds.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 300: Chapter 202: The Terror of a True Pirate
Chapter Text
“He’s here... that bastard...”
From the ruins of the collapsed auction wall, the golden Buddha slowly rose to its feet.
Sengoku lifted his head, eyes grim, fists clenching instinctively as he stared into the darkened sky.
Around him, everything within a hundred meters lay in ruin. Buildings had been flattened like crops under a giant’s feet. The earth itself had been plowed into a massive crater.
At the far end of that scar, the Charlotte brothers lay bloodied, gasping for air.
Their eyes were fixed in horror on the towering War Buddha in the distance—immense, unstoppable.
Especially Daifuku, whose entire body was a shattered wreck.
At least ten fractures. Massive internal trauma.
If Perospero hadn’t thrown up a hardened candy barrier at the last second to absorb the impact… he would’ve been reduced to a pile of bloody mush.
“So this is the power of a Marine Headquarters admiral… the legendary ‘Buddha’ Sengoku…”
Perospero’s face was pale. He swallowed dryly, his throat parched. Two streams of bright blood flowed from his nostrils, soaking his ornate robe, his candy cane staff snapped into several useless pieces.
“Jihahahaha!! Sengoku, long time no see…”
A sneering laugh suddenly echoed from the skies above, cutting into the silence like a blade.
The two brothers flinched.
That voice...
Could it be...?
They looked up, dread welling in their eyes.
Above the Island of Coins, the rolling clouds parted—slowly pushed aside by a pressure so overwhelming it seemed to be crushing the heavens themselves.
And from the center of the gap, a figure began to descend into view.
His skin was sun-darkened, eyes sharp and violent, a lit cigar clenched in his teeth.
He wore a charcoal-grey kimono, but what drew all eyes was his mane of golden hair—long enough to reach his feet, billowing wildly in the wind like the tail of a lion.
Though he hovered silently above them, the pressure he exuded was immense—like a ruler surveying his kingdom from the skies.
Gasp—!!
Every pirate present sucked in a sharp breath.
The legendary pirate… the “Flying Admiral”… the true tyrant of the New World—Golden Lion Shiki!!
But even more terrifying than his title was his nature.
Unlike other pirates, Shiki wasn’t bound by reason or restraint.
He was capricious. Brutal.
Wherever he passed, towns turned to scorched earth.
Civilian? Pirate? Marine? Even factions under the World Government—
If he wanted to kill, he killed. No hesitation. No mercy.
CLANG!!
Borsalino’s golden blade clashed with King’s flame-wrapped sword, shockwaves exploding outward.
“Well, this just got a lot more interesting…”
Borsalino muttered, glancing lazily at the figure in the sky. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
King’s expression had gone rigid.
Golden Lion Shiki... at the More-More Fruit auction...
He was no ordinary pirate.
This was a man who’d once sailed alongside Kaido—not as a comrade, but as a superior.
When Shiki ruled the seas with the Rocks Pirates, Kaido had still been a mere apprentice.
And now—
Sengoku, a Marine Admiral... and Golden Lion Shiki, a true living legend…
This situation just became a nightmare.
Elsewhere—
Bullet’s eyes gleamed, pupils dilated with excitement. He licked his lips.
“To finally meet the man Captain Roger acknowledged as a rival... Golden Lion Shiki…”
“Now this—this was worth coming for.”
His whole body trembled with anticipation, his gaze bloodshot.
“If I fight him... I’ll definitely grow stronger.”
The moment the thought formed, he began scanning the surroundings—looking for anything to use as a launchpad.
He couldn’t fly. To reach Shiki, he’d have to leap his way through the wreckage.
“Shiki!! You finally showed yourself!!”
Sengoku shouted suddenly, voice full of hostility.
“Jihahahaha!!”
Shiki’s wild laughter echoed across the sky.
He scanned the battlefield, chaos and smoke rising from below, and sneered.
“I really should thank you, Sengoku. If it weren’t for you holding back these pests, they might’ve gotten their hands on the More-More Fruit…”
“That would’ve been annoying.”
“But now…”
His eyes flashed with killing intent.
“The More-More Fruit... is mine.”
Without another word, he drew his twin blades.
A cold gleam shimmered along their edges—razor-sharp and deadly.
The famed swords: Oto and Kogarashi.
Blades that had carved a path of blood through the sea at Shiki’s side.
No windup. No aura. No grand announcement.
Shiki simply smirked—and swung.
It looked effortless. Light. Even casual.
But Darren’s pupils contracted.
That motion—he recognized it.
Calm.
Silent.
Destruction.
It was just like... Garp’s punch.
SHING!!
A golden crescent of sword energy surged from the sky, tearing toward Sengoku like a scythe from heaven.
“Wave Cleave”
Eyes widened in terror.
It split the sky. Ripped the air.
A blow like a divine whip, obliterating everything in its path.
“Damn bastard!!”
Sengoku roared, golden light flaring beneath his feet. The War Buddha leapt into the air—
And struck.
BOOM!!
The sky exploded with sound. Eardrums shattered. The impact knocked everyone sideways.
The golden Buddha shattered the sword wave midair—but the leftover shock sliced deep into the earth.
Silence.
Everyone stood frozen.
The ground beneath them... cracked.
A fissure spread.
And kept spreading.
Until it became a thousand-meter rift, slicing across the Island of Coins—splitting half the island in two.
RUMBLE...
Buildings, streetlights, rooftops... all sank into the abyss, swallowed by dust and collapse.
“Jihahahahaha!!”
Shiki’s laughter rang out like a devil’s chorus over the apocalyptic scene.
Pirates and criminals from every corner of the world stood frozen in place.
And in that moment—they understood.
They had witnessed…
The true terror… of a real pirate.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 301: Chapter 203: Observation Haki
Chapter Text
The world was drowned in deathly silence.
Only the terrifying sounds of collapsing buildings and splitting earth echoed across the island, accompanied by the arrogant, savage laughter of the great pirate in the sky.
From afar, the auction house area began to ring with the screams and sobs of civilians. Flames spread rapidly through the city, and thick black smoke billowed into the sky.
“This lunatic!!”
Sengoku’s eyes instantly filled with bloodshot lines. He clenched his teeth, seething with fury.
The pirates present were frozen in place, their faces blank as they stared at the apocalyptic devastation in the distance. It was a sight too harrowing to believe.
“This… this power… it's simply beyond human capability…”
“One slash… and it almost tore half the island apart.”
“Terrifying…”
“This is the Golden Lion, Shiki the Great Pirate… a man who stands at the very peak of power in these seas…”
At that moment, the pirates looked like their souls had been ripped from them. Their gazes were panicked and vacant.
Bullet’s expression showed clear shock—then rapidly twisted into wild excitement.
“What overwhelming combat strength… So this is the opponent Captain Roger once acknowledged? I must… I must fight him!!”
His fists were clenched tightly.
King’s face, on the other hand, darkened grimly.
“Jihahahaha—Did you see that…”
The Golden Lion seemed immensely pleased with the power of his attack. Hovering above, he looked down upon the pale, horrified faces below, laughing wildly.
“Only I, the Golden Lion, have the right to seize this Devil Fruit. If you don’t want to die—then get the hell out of my way!”
He had barely finished shouting when—
A tall figure suddenly leapt from the wreckage of a auction house high above.
Bullet’s expression changed dramatically. He gritted his teeth in outrage.
“Darren! You bastard—that’s my opponent!!”
The abrupt development instantly seized everyone’s attention.
“Darren!?”
Sengoku’s pupils shrank.
He looked up at the Marine Commodore hurtling through the sky toward the Golden Lion. A thought surged up in his mind—one too unbelievable to accept.
Could it be… this damn brat actually intends to face death head-on!?
The surrounding pirates were just as stunned, staring blankly at the Marine commodore.
What was he trying to do?
Suicide?
After witnessing the terrifying power the Golden Lion had just unleashed, who among them—besides Admiral Sengoku himself—could possibly be his match?
Everyone stared breathlessly at the scene, holding their breath without realizing it.
“Come on, Golden Lion… kill me, and the More-More Fruit is yours!!”
From high above, Darren's lips curled into a fearless, reckless grin.
The wild wind whipped at his face and hair, his snow-white cape billowing madly behind him.
His eyes locked onto the flying great pirate ahead, blazing with a glint of madness—borderline hysterical.
“Hm?”
The Golden Lion raised an eyebrow.
This Marine brat… is he courting death?
He glanced at the charging Darren.
Their eyes locked across the space between them.
Then—
A savage smile suddenly spread across the Golden Lion’s face.
“Jihahahaha!! That look in your eyes—not bad!!”
In Darren’s eyes, he saw something—obsession, madness, and a desperate resolve.
The Golden Lion smelled it—
The scent… of a kindred spirit.
“Interesting Marine brat… then don’t blame me for not holding back!”
With a twisted roar of laughter, his aura erupted.
His famous sword lifted high into the sky, golden hair flaring in the wind—
Then it came crashing down!
“Wave Cleave!”
Shhhk!!
The clouds split open as if torn by a colossal blade, the sky churning like a boiling sea.
A devastating golden sword aura descended like a crescent moon from the heavens—bearing the judgment of a god.
It was coming!!
In that instant, Darren felt an overwhelming pressure of death consume his entire mind.
Facing that golden arc of destruction, every pore on his body exploded open in primal fear.
Clang—
He tried to summon his power—but the seastone cuffs on his wrists clashed together, their suppressive force locking all strength inside him.
He was suspended in midair, without footing;
His power weakened by seastone;
His Devil Fruit ability as inert as dead water;
The complete shadow of death—like the overcast sky above—fully enveloped him.
“DARREN!!!”
Sengoku roared, his eyes blood-red.
Everyone else’s eyes widened in disbelief.
But Darren showed no fear.
His grin grew even wilder.
Every cell, every muscle in his body was burning. His bones felt like they were screaming.
His pupils, under the flood of adrenaline, began to blur.
He let out a cry—but no one could hear him.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
The golden slash drew closer and closer to his body.
The blinding light almost swallowed him whole.
And just as he was about to lose consciousness—
“Darren, remember… the greatest strength of Observation Haki is that no matter how close death is, you must stay calm.”
Zephyr’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
Absolute… calm!!
Darren’s eyes snapped wide open.
“I… will not die!!”
In that split second—
It felt like something deep inside him had been pierced—and then burst wide open.
From that single point, a surge of power spread rapidly through his entire body.
And in that moment, all sounds faded away.
Despite the looming death, his mind became cold and crystal clear.
Darren felt his soul and senses detach from his body, rising to an omniscient, all-seeing state.
His breathing eased. Countless images and details flooded his mind—Sengoku’s tense expression, the horrified faces of the Marines, the Golden Lion’s cruel grin, Bullet’s rage…
What kind of sensation was it?
Silence.
Yes—an absolute stillness, just a breath away from madness.
A supreme quiet spread through Darren’s mind.
He could hear everything.
The Observation Haki he had spent half a year training, always one step away from awakening—
Finally awakened!!
And then—the sword fell!
CLANG!!
A shattering sound split the air—something impossibly hard had been broken.
In that fraction of a second—
The Marine commodore, to the stunned disbelief of all watching, twisted his body without warning.
That sword aura, powerful enough to tear apart an island, just barely missed his body—
And shot toward the distant shore, slicing through a small trading port and sending seawater surging into the sky.
Darren’s body slammed into the ground like a cannonball, blasting out a massive crater.
Dust exploded in all directions.
A second later—
He stepped out from the crater.
His wide cape fluttered gently behind him.
The seastone cuffs had been shattered, and now clattered to the ground with a crisp metallic sound.
Darren calmly flexed his wrist, then lifted his head—
And looked straight up at the pirate in the sky.
A strange glimmer of red flickered deep in his pupils.
His lips curved into a defiant, fearless smile.
“Now… the real fight begins.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 302: Chapter 204: The Invincible Aerial Fleet
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“He… he really… succeeded…”
Sengoku stared blankly at Darren, whose pupils still flickered with an eerie red light. His heart was in turmoil.
This damn brat had actually used the Golden Lion—deliberately placing himself on the brink of death—to awaken his Observation Haki!
Sengoku had roamed the seas for decades, fought countless enemies, and mentored more elite officers than he could remember. Yet never—not once—had he seen someone as insane as Darren.
A man who stood at the very top of the world… a legendary great pirate…
Was used by him as a whetstone!?
If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, Sengoku would never have believed it was real.
“How fascinating… Jihahaha!!”
The Golden Lion suddenly burst into twisted laughter.
“Marine brat—I remember you. Rogers Darren…”
“You’re the one who killed that fool, Byrndi World. I heard even Roger took a loss at your hands?”
Hovering in the sky, he looked down disdainfully at the Marine commodore on the ground. His eyes gleamed with contempt and simmering fury.
“You said the ‘real battle begins now!?’”
The Golden Lion’s golden mane flared as he laughed to the heavens—like he’d heard the most ridiculous joke.
“Don’t make me laugh!!”
“There was never a battle between us! You’re not even qualified to be my opponent!”
“In this sea… no one can stop me, the Golden Lion!!”
From his vantage, it was crystal clear.
This Marine brat had used him to create the pressure of impending death—to force himself into awakening.
“You all… open your eyes and watch!!”
“This—is what it means to be ruler of the New World!!”
The Golden Lion grinned viciously and swept his hand through the air.
It was as if an invisible force tore across the sky. Above the Island of Coins, the dense, black cloud cover—thick as castle walls—was suddenly blown away.
And then—
Countless black dots began to emerge from behind the clouds.
Like a shroud of darkness blanketing the sky, they slowly spread overhead.
One ship.
Two ships.
Three ships.
…
Ship after ship…
Pierced through the cloud sea, hovering into view.
On each mast fluttered the Golden Lion’s emblem—a lion-headed skull on a golden banner. Mounted along their hulls were pitch-black cannons, their barrels aimed menacingly at the auction grounds below.
Even from hundreds of meters away, one could make out the densely packed figures on deck—pirates, armed to the teeth, their faces twisted into cruel grins. Their eyes looked down at the island as if it were already rubble.
“Wh-what… what is that…”
“P-pirate ships…”
“How is this possible…”
“They’re floating… in the sky…”
“That’s… the Golden Lion Shiki’s invincible aerial fleet…”
Everyone on the ground stared upward in sheer terror, the light vanishing from their eyes—replaced by despair.
Such an airborne fleet—
Such scale, such numbers…
Even if they never landed, they could obliterate this entire island with bombardment from above alone.
“They’ve finally arrived… Darren, don’t get yourself killed out there…”
A heavy shadow crept across Sengoku’s face. A look of deep concern welled up in his eyes as he glanced at Darren.
“How terrifying… He actually brought the fleet.”
On the other side of the battlefield, Borsalino flicked away King’s flaming blade with a lazy swing of his sword. Glancing up, he smiled slightly.
Bullet’s face twisted into a grimace.
“Oi, oi… this is looking bad…”
“Jihahahaha!! You see now, Marine brat!!”
The Golden Lion raised his blade and pointed straight at Darren.
“With just a few dozen of you, you dare talk of war with me!?”
“Be annihilated by the cannons of my flying fleet!!”
As his voice fell, the pirate ships above began to move in unison.
Laughing cruelly, the pirates moved swiftly to load their cannons.
Their actions were practiced, methodical—as though razing cities with a rain of cannon fire was something they’d done many times before.
Time seemed to slow.
Indescribable fear seized everyone’s hearts.
“Run!!”
“If you stay on this island, you’ll die for sure!!”
“The Golden Lion’s gone mad!!”
“Damn it!!”
The pirates who had snuck into the auction to fish in troubled waters now screamed in panic, fleeing madly toward the distant ports.
The wind howled through the chaos.
The venue had collapsed into a storm of confusion.
Before the overwhelming might of the Golden Lion’s flying fleet, everyone had abandoned resistance.
Some fled, arms shielding their heads.
Some trembled in terror.
Some stood frozen in place.
The wind carried the sharp scent of gunpowder.
It was clear—within seconds, this glorious city would be reduced to ashes.
Then—
BOOM!
The first cannon fired from one of the hovering ships.
Then the second.
The third.
The fourth…
Blazing orange flashes flared along the decks of the fleet. A hail of black cannonballs erupted into the sky, like a storm of death.
The barrage was dense—so dense it filled the heavens and darkened the sky, driving despair into every heart.
Countless shells fell like a net of annihilation, cast wide across the island.
Their descending shrieks of acceleration tore the air.
The flashes of cannon fire lit up the Golden Lion’s face—twisted into a feral, savage sneer.
The fleeing crowd froze.
Their bodies stiffened, eyes blank, gazing at the apocalyptic sight above.
“It’s over…”
Someone muttered.
Then—
A quiet sigh drifted through the wind.
In this hellish moment, it sounded absurdly calm… almost casual.
“Tch… been waiting long enough.”
Everyone paused, turning as one.
The Marine commodore stood in place.
With a curious smirk, he slowly raised his right hand.
Fingers spread wide.
He grasped gently at the air.
BZZZZZZ—
Blue arcs of lightning flickered between his fingers. A strange, invisible pulse spread outward.
In that instant—
Everyone on the Island of Coins witnessed a sight they would never forget.
The net of cannonballs falling like rain—
Suddenly halted midair!
As if hitting a soft, invisible wall—or perhaps caught by an unseen hand of a giant—
Every shell froze in place, unmoving.
As if time had stopped.
The image was… surreal.
The savage grin on the Golden Lion’s face froze.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
The terms “aerial fleet,” “airborne fleet,” and “flying fleet” are used interchangeably to describe Shiki’s sky-dominating armada. While “aerial fleet” is favored for its epic tone, all three refer to the same terrifying force that hovers above the seas.
Chapter 303: Chapter 205: This Is My Battlefield
Chapter Text
Silence.
A silence like death.
Everyone on the Island of Coins stared in stunned disbelief at the countless cannonballs suspended in the sky above their heads.
Gulp…
They swallowed hard, their eyes wide with shock.
“The cannonballs… they stopped in midair…”
“What… what just happened…”
“This is… this is unbelievable…”
“Was that the Marine’s doing?”
“What in the world did he do!?”
…
And it wasn’t just them.
On the decks of the aerial pirate fleet, countless pirates stared in shock at the frozen scene before them, unable to believe their eyes.
“Damn Marine brat!! What the hell did you do!?”
The Golden Lion roared.
Never in his life had he seen such an eerie sight.
Even Sengoku was visibly shaken.
Though he had long known Darren’s Devil Fruit power, this was the first time he had witnessed it wielded on such a massive scale—seizing control of a whole storm of cannonfire.
“Here. Take them back.”
Darren sneered coldly.
His outstretched hand clenched into a tight fist—
In the next instant,
The hovering cannonballs jolted in the air.
Propelled by a powerful magnetic field, they reversed course—hurling upward toward the very fleet that had fired them.
A tidal wave of cannonfire, dense as a swarm of locusts, filled the sky with explosive fury.
Sengoku’s heart surged with emotion.
The terror of the Golden Lion came not only from his strength—but from his invincible aerial fleet.
High-altitude saturation bombing from air-dominant vessels—against which even he, an admiral, had limited countermeasures.
Despite the strength of his Mythical Zoan fruit, Sengoku had no surefire way to handle such overwhelming firepower.
And yet… Darren, alone, had caught their entire barrage!
Now the pirates above felt the same dread the people below had felt moments earlier.
“Shit!! They’re coming back!!”
“Evade!!”
“There’s no time!!”
“There are too many!!”
Panic erupted.
The moment a pirate ship took to the air, its rudder became nothing but a decoration—everything was under the Golden Lion’s control.
So even as they stood aboard their own ships, the pirates could do nothing but watch the incoming cannonballs with dread.
“He controls metal! That’s his power!!”
The Golden Lion’s eyes narrowed—then twisted into a savage grin.
“Marine brat… don’t underestimate me…”
Gripping his twin blades tightly, he shot to the front of the fleet.
Against the incoming storm of cannonfire, he crossed his swords—
“I’m the Golden Lion!!”
SLASH!
ROAR!
The twin famed blades—Sakura Ten and Kikuju—sliced through the air, wrapped in raging shockwaves.
A tempest of blade-force erupted skyward, crashing headlong into the rain of cannonballs.
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Explosions erupted across the sky, forming massive fireballs, with rolling columns of black smoke.
“Yes!!”
“That’s our Captain Shiki!!”
“We’re saved!!”
“Hahahaha!!”
The flying pirates cheered wildly. To them, Shiki’s golden-haired silhouette was like a god.
With him, their aerial fleet was unstoppable!
“Jihahahaha!! You see now!?”
The raging wind tore at the smoke. The Golden Lion laughed uproariously, blades in hand.
“You’re decades too early to destroy my fleet, brat!!”
“…Is that so?”
Darren’s voice echoed coldly from below.
The Golden Lion froze.
The wind finally cleared the lingering smoke.
And he saw the earth beneath him.
What he saw made his pupils shrink to pinpoints.
Click… click…
A pirate heard a strange noise near him—sharp, crawling, metallic.
“What… what is that…”
He turned toward the sound instinctively.
A building beside him—made entirely of coins—suddenly moved.
Coin after coin twisted and stacked, reshaping rapidly under some eerie force—until they formed a cannon.
Three meters tall, with a barrel half a meter wide, black and ominous, pointed skyward.
The pirate’s throat bobbed.
The sight made him take a step back in horror.
And his back struck something cold, hard… like a wall.
He turned—and his heart nearly stopped.
Not a wall—
Another cannon.
Click… click…
The skittering sound of metal crawling echoed all around.
The pirate’s eyes went wide with horror.
And it wasn’t just him.
Across the Island of Coins—
In the trading ports,
On the commercial streets,
Upon luxurious buildings,
Amid the ruins of the auction house—
Anywhere coins and metal had been used for construction…
The metal moved.
Reshaped. Reassembled. Folded. Reformed.
From the Golden Lion’s view above, it looked as if the entire island had come alive.
Buildings, roads, plazas—everything transformed.
Countless cannons rose from the ground, forming in waves like toppling dominoes.
Black cannon barrels pointed skyward—covering every inch of the island.
They stared at the fleet above like the hundreds of eyes of a mechanical war beast.
Their numbers—countless.
All eyes now turned—horrified—toward the Marine commodore.
Even Sengoku twitched involuntarily.
“This is… way too much…”
King muttered, stunned.
“He turned the whole island into his arsenal…”
At that moment—
Darren knelt with one knee to the ground, his hand pressed against the cold metallic earth. Blue lightning crackled around him.
He looked up at the frozen Golden Lion with a fearless, defiant grin.
“So… how will you block this one?”
As the words fell—
A crimson glint burst in Darren’s eyes. A surge of electric-blue arcs expanded from his body, sweeping across the entire island.
“This place… is my battlefield!!”
“Electromagnetic Wrath: Ten Thousand Cannons!!”
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!
The ground trembled.
Ten thousand cannons fired as one.
The deafening thunder shook the heavens. Pirates fell to the ground, clutching their heads in terror.
They watched, horrified, as a legion of cannons on the island unleashed fire in unison. Their faces went pale as death.
In a heartbeat—
Countless shells erupted from the ground, propelled by electromagnetic force.
So fast that the human eye couldn’t follow them—at least three times the speed of normal heavy artillery.
Each cannonball trailed a crimson streak through the sky, like blazing meteors ascending into the heavens.
“Damn it!! How is this possible!!!”
The Golden Lion’s eyes were bloodshot. He slashed wildly with his swords, trying to intercept them.
But this time—the density and speed were on another level.
He couldn’t stop them all.
A shadow of despair spread through his crimson pupils.
He tried to maneuver the fleet—but the Float-Float Fruit did not specialize in speed.
And so—
Amid the Golden Lion’s furious roars,
Amid Sengoku’s thunderous battle cry,
Amid the fear-stricken gazes of pirates who felt their souls slipping away,
Amid the thunder of ten thousand cannons—
The aerial fleet above the island… erupted into fire.
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Explosion after explosion lit up the sky, one after another, like a grand pyrotechnic chain reaction.
Black smoke soared, and the thunder of ruin echoed endlessly.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 304: Chapter 206: The Fallen Fleet
Chapter Text
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Thunderous explosions tore through the sky, shattering the black clouds above. The sound was deafening—like the heavens themselves were collapsing.
Great plumes of orange-red flame bloomed one after another across the pirate fleet in the sky, illuminating the dim heavens in crimson light.
On the ground, everyone cowered in terror. They watched as cannonballs streaked through the air like fireflies, felt the earth tremble violently beneath them, and turned pale with fear, hearts gripped by unspeakable dread.
Ten thousand cannons. Fired as one.
This kind of overwhelming firepower—so excessive it defied belief—not even the world’s largest military force, the Marine Headquarters, could manage such saturation.
Ship after ship of the Golden Lion’s invincible aerial fleet exploded under the bombardment. Shattered wreckage and burning pirate corpses fell from the skies like flaming rain. The scale of destruction was beyond imagining.
It was a massacre.
For the pirates of the aerial fleet, all they could do was watch helplessly as their ships were blown apart beneath them, their bodies consumed by flames.
High in the sky, even jumping from the ship would be meaningless.
There was no escape. Only death awaited.
“This damn brat Darren…”
Sengoku’s face was filled with shock. His eyes were wide, stunned.
He had speculated—more than once—how Darren might respond to the Golden Lion’s flying fleet.
Would he use his Magnet-Magnet Fruit to bind them and let Borsalino finish the job?
Would he fly up himself and destroy them in close combat?
But never—never—had Sengoku imagined that Darren would choose something so crude… and so simple.
True, the Golden Lion’s fleet had the advantage of aerial firepower. But that advantage was not absolute.
You have cannons? Hundreds of them?
Then Darren would give you ten thousand!
He had used the Island of Coins’ metal-laced architecture to forcibly construct a network of heavy cannons across the land.
On this island of metal…
Rogers Darren was a walking fortress.
More importantly—Darren had clearly pinpointed the fundamental weakness of the Float-Float Fruit.
Its core power was levitation—not maneuverability.
Which meant, in the face of ten thousand high-speed shells, the Golden Lion simply didn’t have the reaction time to elevate his fleet out of harm’s way. Floating… was slow.
…
Elsewhere, clad in black, King—“The Wildfire”—wore a look of dread. His voice carried a rare note of fear.
“He destroyed the Golden Lion’s fleet… alone… This guy…”
Ever since Darren had destroyed their manufacturing line at the base, the Beasts Pirates had marked him for elimination.
And Queen had suffered Kaido’s wrath for “failing to guard” that facility.
But now—now it was clear. The destruction hadn’t come from Queen’s negligence.
They had all simply underestimated this Marine from the North Blue.
“You’re distracted…”
A lazy voice cut through the air.
King’s expression shifted. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen.
SHHK!
A golden beam pierced his gut. Blood gushed from the wound.
Not far away, Borsalino still had one finger raised, a wry smile on his lips.
“This bastard…”
King gritted his teeth, his body igniting in crimson flame. He drew his sword and charged Borsalino once more.
The two resumed their fierce clash.
…
The roar of cannonfire still shook the heavens.
“This is insane…”
Marco, who had been hidden in the crowd, lifted his head from beneath his hood. His eyes twitched as he stared at the countless heavy cannons that littered the island.
The Golden Lion—an equal to Pops in reputation—had already been terrifying enough.
But when he summoned his invincible fleet, Marco had thought the Marines would suffer catastrophic losses.
Never had he imagined that in less than ten seconds, the entire situation would be flipped on its head.
The aerial fleet—renowned across the seas—had been blown apart like a fireworks show.
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.
Marco stole a glance at the Marine commodore, now standing at the center of the cannon formation, and instinctively sank deeper into his hood.
Compared to the last time they met, Darren’s aura had grown stronger—beyond his own.
He cast a furtive glance toward the ruins of the auction platform.
A few surviving guards huddled protectively around the More-More Fruit. The auctioneer in the tailcoat lay buried beneath a collapsed wall.
“…There’s still a chance.”
Marco’s expression shifted. After a long breath, he murmured under his breath.
…
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
The ground rumbled violently. The recoil from the heavy cannons sent dust and debris leaping.
Bullet stood frozen, sweat beading on his brow as he stared at the full might of the bombardment.
He suddenly remembered something—then quickly removed the metallic arm created with his Clank-Clank Fruit and threw it far away.
“That bastard Darren… when did he get so strong?!”
He growled, frustrated.
Yet the fire in his eyes only grew stronger.
…
Wreckage of pirate ships rained down like burning meteors.
Five seconds later—the cannon fire stopped.
Thick black smoke curled from the red-hot barrels. From every corner of the Island of Coins, plumes rose into the air.
As the smoke cleared…
The people finally dared lift their heads and look to the skies.
Where once floated the invincible aerial fleet… nothing remained.
Only a lone figure drifted in the sky, wreathed in smoke.
His head hung low. Golden hair partially covered his face.
But everyone could see—the Golden Lion’s hands, still gripping his swords, were trembling.
“What a pity… Your fleet is gone.”
A cold sneer echoed.
All eyes turned.
The Marine commodore, still breathing heavily, slowly stood up from where he had knelt. Even creating such a massive cannon array had taken a toll on his body.
But his eyes were defiant. His smile carried a venomous edge.
Behind him, a black demonic sword slowly floated into the air—pointed straight at the legendary pirate above.
“So now—am I worthy of being your opponent, Golden Lion?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 305: Chapter 207: Siege of the Golden Lion
Chapter Text
“You’re courting death!!”
At those mocking words, the Golden Lion’s eyes instantly filled with countless bloodshot veins.
A killing intent unlike anything before erupted from his body. He raised his blades and unleashed a flurry of furious slashes.
SWOOSH SWOOSH SWOOSH!!
Golden sword arcs, sharp as crescents, ripped through the air like divine whips of judgment. They hurtled toward Darren at blistering speed.
“Lion’s Thousand-Cut Ravine!!”
But before the blades could reach their mark—
A figure, radiant with golden light, suddenly appeared before Darren.
“Not that easy!!”
Sengoku roared, eyes blood-red. As the Great Golden Buddha, he slammed his massive palm forward.
“Buddha Shockwave!!”
BOOM!!
A surging shockwave crashed headlong into the incoming sword slashes.
The deafening blast sent a tsunami of air pressure rippling out in all directions, hurling away cannons, rubble, and unfortunate pirates caught too close.
Dust exploded.
The very next second—
The Golden Lion burst through the smoke like a raging beast. His golden mane billowed as he dove at Darren with murderous speed.
“Marine brat… you’re finished!!”
“We’ll see about that.” Darren grinned fiercely.
He didn’t even move. The demonic blade behind him—wreathed in purple-black flame-like patterns—shot forward, slicing through the air toward the Golden Lion’s face.
“Jihahaha!! You think childish tricks like this will work!?”
The Golden Lion scoffed, slashing with his blade.
CLANG!
Sparks exploded. Enma was knocked flying.
But in that moment—the Golden Lion’s pupils contracted sharply.
The earth beneath him twisted. Cannons warped into spiraling spikes of blackened metal, lunging upward like fanged serpents.
“This sneaky little brat!!”
The Golden Lion cursed, slashing swiftly with both swords.
He cut down the metal spears, but they kept coming—denser, sharper, endless.
Even when severed, they reformed under Darren’s magnetic control and lunged again.
From afar, it looked like he had fallen into a pit of writhing iron snakes—completely surrounded.
“Damn it!!”
The Golden Lion roared. His blades darkened with Armament Haki.
“Wave Cleave!!”
A cross-shaped slash burst forth, shattering the swarm of spears in a storm of metal fragments.
“Your fleet is gone, Shiki! This isn’t your playground anymore!”
Sengoku’s voice rang out as he soared into the sky, appearing behind the Golden Lion.
Golden light surged in his palm, crackling with streaks of black and red lightning.
“Then let’s see if you can stop me, Sengoku!!”
The Golden Lion laughed wildly, slashing backward without looking.
His blade, too, crackled with black-red lightning, trailing thunder.
And then—
BOOM!!
Fist and sword clashed through the air.
They never touched.
A core of black-red energy compressed violently between them, then burst outward in a shockwave that ripped through the island.
The earth exploded in a ten-meter-high tsunami of mud and steel. The heavens darkened. Clouds tore apart. It was like the end of the world.
A clash of Conqueror’s Haki.
Weaker pirates fell unconscious from the pressure alone.
“Jihahaha!! Sengoku—your fists still don’t hit as hard as Garp’s!”
The Golden Lion sneered.
He twisted his left blade and slashed toward Sengoku’s abdomen.
Sengoku backed away instinctively, dodging the blow.
Their attacks broke apart. The Conqueror’s clash dispersed in a violent burst.
Using the momentum, the Golden Lion flipped backward, landed with one hand on the ground, and flicked his right wrist.
“Lion's Threat: Earth Bind!!”
The ground beneath erupted like a flood. It surged upward, shaping into a towering lion dozens of meters tall.
Its jaws opened wide—ready to swallow Darren whole.
“Let’s see you block this, Marine brat!!”
The Golden Lion laughed madly.
But the laugh died in his throat.
Blue arcs of lightning danced across Darren’s fingers, gone in a flash.
A magnetic pulse rippled outward.
And the towering lion froze mid-lunge—as if gripped by an invisible hand.
“Float-Float might be powerful—but this is my battlefield.”
Darren smiled coldly, lifting his hand and pressing down.
The giant lion—crafted from the Golden Lion’s Devil Fruit—suddenly twisted…
And turned its gaping maw toward its own master.
The Float-Float Fruit could lift islands—but its lateral strength paled before Darren’s magnetic field.
“Damn it!!”
The Golden Lion’s eyes burned with fury.
“Then I’ll cut you down myself!!”
His swords flared with Haki. He charged toward the metallic behemoth and slashed.
SLASH!!
A storm of blade aura exploded. The iron lion shattered into a thousand pieces.
But just then—
A massive figure burst through the falling debris, charging straight at him.
“KAHAHAHA!! Finally, it’s my turn!! Found your opening!!”
Bullet roared.
The Golden Lion’s fury erupted.
Ever since arriving at this island, he had suffered one humiliation after another at Darren’s hands.
Used to temper Observation Haki.
His invincible fleet—gone.
Even his Devil Fruit powers—countered!
Yes, the island’s structure played a part—but the Golden Lion, feared across the seas, could not accept this!
And now—this bastard, who had done nothing but watch, wanted in too!?
The volcano of rage within him finally exploded.
CRACKLE!!
Webs of black-red lightning spread across his body like molten veins.
“You want to die!!”
He swung both blades in a furious cross-slash toward Bullet.
Bullet: “???”
Sensing the surging bloodlust, Bullet’s expression changed.
No longer laughing, he summoned metal and earth to form a massive arm. Armament Haki coated it in black, and his own Conqueror’s Haki surged.
He punched.
BOOM!!
For a brief second—they clashed.
And then—
Bullet’s fused arm shattered like glass.
Blood spurted from his mouth as his body flew backward like a missile, crashing through building after building.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 306: Chapter 208: He Blocked It!
Chapter Text
Darren: …
He watched as Bullet charged in—only to be blasted away in an instant—and couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Same old reckless idiot.
Around him, pirates who had witnessed the carnage turned sheet white in terror, scattering like frightened insects.
One strike. Just one strike—
And the so-called “Demon Heir” with a bounty of 300 million berries had been blown away, without the chance to so much as resist.
If they had been the target, wouldn’t they have been sliced in half on the spot!?
Forget the More-More Fruit!
Even if they somehow managed to snatch it in this chaos, how would they ever make it off this island alive!?
“Jihahahaha!! No one can stop me—the Golden Lion!!”
Having cut down that troublesome pest, the Golden Lion launched himself once more into motion.
He flew low across the battlefield, practically skimming the ground with his domineering charge, headed straight for Darren.
Along the way, countless metal spikes shot from the ground like fanged serpents, trying to ensnare him.
But he slipped through them with ease, cutting those in his path into glittering shards, his pace unbroken.
From afar, he looked like a golden lion soaring across the battlefield—arrogant and unstoppable. The distance between him and Darren vanished in seconds.
In both hands, he gripped the legendary blades Oto and Kogarashi. Their surfaces crackled with black and crimson lightning, trailing twin rivers of thunderous might.
Wrapped in Conqueror’s Haki!
In that moment, it was as if the entire island were drenched in raging Conqueror’s force. The black-red aura shimmered across the battlefield like a vision of hell.
The Golden Lion’s bloodshot eyes radiated pure violence—twisted, feral, like a demon lord from the depths.
“Die, Marine brat!!”
In that instant, Darren felt a crushing pressure roll toward him—a wave so immense it felt like it might smother his lungs.
Every pore on his body flared in alarm.
In that moment—the presence before him was exactly like the one he had faced when first leaving the North Blue…
Roger.
An unstoppable force.
Overwhelming. Absolute.
Only this time, Roger hadn’t even gone all out against him.
But the Golden Lion now—his killing intent and fury were at their peak.
Anyone else—any normal person—would have turned and fled.
Even Darren could feel his own muscles, his own cells screaming in warning, telling him to step back.
And yet…
A vicious grin curled across Darren’s lips.
A year of harsh training.
Half a year shackled by seastone.
Months of torture and imprisonment under the Beasts Pirates.
Years of sweat, scars, relentless self-discipline…
Countless memories flickered through his mind like a storm of lanterns.
He had come too far to turn back now.
He could give up the More-More Fruit—but this strike, he had to take it head-on.
If he backed down now, if he dodged even once—
He would never move forward again.
“Then come on!!”
Darren let out a thunderous growl and took a step forward—toward the oncoming blow.
His right fist clenched. Armament Haki erupted from his body like a storm of obsidian, wrapping his arm in a jet-black gauntlet.
He punched.
In that moment—his mind became utterly still.
His gaze was fierce, but his chest was calm as still water.
In his pupils, he saw the Golden Lion’s wild, grinning face—but deeper within, ripples began to form.
It was like a drop had fallen into a still lake, and from it emerged a warped image—of a broken battleship, drifting at a scrap port.
In Darren’s mind, the Golden Lion vanished—
Replaced by that shattered battleship.
His spirit, his strength, his technique—everything fused into one.
It was as if clarity struck like lightning, piercing his soul.
Sengoku, sprinting toward the scene, faltered as he saw the force behind Darren’s stance—his desperate, all-in swing. His expression shifted.
“That punch… could it be—”
And then—
Blade and fist collided.
BOOM!!
A dull roar exploded as a shockwave surged outward in all directions.
Black and red lightning crackled across the battlefield, the pressure flattening everything in a hundred-meter radius.
Cannons shattered. Boulders disintegrated. The ground collapsed in a roar of devastation.
“He… he blocked it!?”
King and Charlotte brother's stared wide-eyed, their minds reeling.
The full-force strike of the legendary pirate Shiki the Golden Lion—said to rival even their own captain or mama—had been stopped.
By a Marine commodore.
Crawling from the rubble, Bullet froze—then burst into laughter, blood pouring from his mouth.
“Kahahaha!! I knew it!! You bastard Darren—you’re the only one worthy of being my rival!!”
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!
Explosions continued to erupt as the shockwave thundered through the land. Day turned to night.
The Golden Lion looked down, stunned.
That punch—did it just remind him of Garp?
“Did that brat inherit Garp’s legacy…?”
But a second later, his savage grin returned.
“That was nothing but a glimpse—even Garp himself couldn’t stop me!!”
He rose slightly into the air—then slammed downward with all his might!
Black-red lightning roared again, his Conqueror’s Haki crashing down like an avalanche.
CRACK!
Cracks appeared along Darren’s arm. The obsidian armor of his Haki splintered.
With a sickening thud, his feet sank into the ground—up to the knees.
The land beneath caved in.
“Jihahahaha!! Now this is power worth talking about!!”
The Golden Lion roared, slashing Darren’s wounded arm with a triumphant flick.
Darren’s guard dropped.
An opening!!
At that moment, both their eyes glinted red.
Observation Haki.
The blade howled through the air. As one of the world’s greatest swordsmen, the Golden Lion’s swing was crisp, fast, perfect.
“Die!!”
He struck.
SHHK!!
The blade Kogarashi pierced Darren’s chest, splitting flesh and bursting blood across the air.
The world fell silent.
Then—
Sengoku’s anguished cry echoed across the island.
“DAAARREEEEN!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 307: Chapter 209: You Don’t Understand True Slaughter
Chapter Text
Blood burst into the air and splattered across the Golden Lion’s face, making his feral grin even more grotesque.
Everyone stood frozen, wide-eyed in disbelief.
Clack!
All of a sudden, a hand jerked upward, seizing that razor-sharp, peerless blade.
Golden Lion’s twisted smile froze in place.
“…Damn, that hurt… You almost gutted me right then and there…”
Darren’s head snapped up. He was panting, grinning, his eyes cold beyond imagining—mad beyond reason—locked squarely onto the legendary pirate before him.
Golden Lion’s pupils constricted.
That blade—his full-force slash—was lodged in the Marine commodore’s chest muscles. Completely stuck. No longer able to push in even a millimeter.
The sheen of Armament Haki slowly faded across Darren’s torso. At the torn, bloodied wound, his flesh—like stone, like something alive—gripped Kogarashi tight, a sensation both rigid and fearsome.
That’s… Armament Haki reinforced by Iron Body of the Rokushiki!
No.
If that were all, there’s no way he could have taken that blow head-on.
Golden Lion stared hard at the wound in Darren’s chest—muscle, skin, bone—
“indestructible body!?”
His eyes quaked violently. The words escaped him before he knew it.
Darren bared his teeth in a grin.
So, in the end, Zephyr-sensei… Observation Haki just doesn’t cut it, huh?
Only the raw power of the body itself… is what lets me survive in these seas.
With a low growl like thunder, Darren curled the fingers of his free left hand, Haki crackling around them, and viciously lashed out—straight at Golden Lion’s groin.
A wicked move!
Golden Lion’s back stiffened, hairs standing on end. He yanked on Kogarashi, trying to rip it free from the Marine brat’s grip—but to his shock, it didn’t move. At all.
That hand, slick with blood, clamped around his blade like a vice. Unshakable.
This brat… His brute strength… it’s stronger than mine!?
Clang!
Golden Lion’s left hand slashed Oto to intercept Darren’s claw. Sparks exploded between them.
The strike failed. But Darren gave him no time to breathe—he gripped Kogarashi tight, letting its edge rip through his palm, and yanked, laughing through clenched teeth as he dragged the Golden Lion, blade and all, into his chest.
Golden Lion stumbled midair.
“SENGOKU!!”
Darren’s bloodshot eyes flared wide as he roared.
He wasn’t about to fight Golden Lion without a plan.
For a swordsman of his level, wielding the power of the Float-Float Fruit, his deadliest strength lay in long- and mid-range aerial strikes—agile, surgical, devastating.
In the original history, it was precisely that advantage that let this madman breach Marineford alone, nearly destroy half the base, and only then be subdued by Garp and Sengoku fighting side by side.
Which meant—if you wanted to finish this bastard for good, you had to lock him down first!
“Hahahaha!! Well done, brat!!”
A massive golden figure suddenly flashed behind the Golden Lion, his admiral’s coat billowing against the howling wind.
Sengoku raised a fist wreathed in blazing golden light—then slammed it downward like a mountain collapsing.
He wasn’t holding back. This punch carried all of his power.
Raging Haki howled above Golden Lion’s skull. The pressure of the void compressed around them as streaks of red-black lightning rained down.
“DON’T SCREW WITH ME!!”
Sensing the oncoming force, Golden Lion howled, eyes gone blood-red.
Sizzle—sizzle—!!
That seething red-black lightning burst from his body, and Conqueror’s Haki surged outward in waves.
“I’M THE MAN WHO’LL CONQUER THE WORLD!!”
Darren took the full brunt of the blast—like being struck by a thunderbolt.
At point-blank range, Golden Lion’s Conqueror’s Haki struck his broken body like a hammer. His head reeled.
His vision warped. The world twisted—ground, turrets, rubble, fallen structures—shattered inch by inch. Like chaos. Like a cracked mirror.
Golden Lion flipped Oto in his grip and swung in a brutal horizontal arc.
BOOM!!
The legendary blade met Sengoku’s falling fist. The impact was apocalyptic—like two worlds colliding, the shockwave swallowing everything.
Blood trickled from the corners of both men’s mouths.
Sengoku staggered back.
Golden Lion didn’t. As if nothing happened, he cackled and kicked at Darren’s gut.
Darren’s eyes narrowed. He fought through the dizziness, knees dropping to block—
CRACK!!
Something split in his lower leg. Darren grunted in pain.
That bastard even wrapped Armament Haki around his whip kicks!?
“Jihahahaha!! Darren brat, I’ll give you this—you’ve got skills. But do you even know what it means to really slaughter someone!?”
Golden Lion laughed like a demon. Though Darren still held his blade, the pirate’s feet danced—striking again and again.
His kicks were masterful. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, bursting Darren’s flesh in sprays of blood.
“Every dirty trick… Every part of your body is a weapon… That’s what it means to rule the seas—”
WHAM!!
A brutal headbutt cut his words short—blood sprayed from his nose.
His head whipped back. In his eyes—surprise.
You’re still standing… after all that?
“OF COURSE I KNOW!!!”
Darren’s black hair lashed around him. He roared like a beast, grinning red-eyed through blood.
His uniform was soaked. His body, a battlefield of wounds.
He raised his right hand. Fingers curled.
Index and middle pressed together. Ring and pinky pressed tight. A claw—Dragon Claw Fist.
Sengoku’s eyes widened.
That stance…!
“Come on then!!”
Darren’s voice was wild. His stare, deathly cold.
“DRAGON CLAW!!”
“Jihahahahaha!! Now we’re talkin’, brat!!”
Golden Lion threw his head back and laughed.
“WAVE CLEAVE!!”
In the flicker of black smoke and firelight, the same deranged grin flashed across both their faces.
They struck at the same time.
Legendary blade—
Shadowed claw—
Their blows sliced past each other—
And each drove straight toward the other’s flesh.
They had both abandoned defense completely.
Shlkk—!!
Shlkk—!!
Blood erupted.
Sengoku’s pupils shrank.
The moment—frozen.
Golden Lion still grinned. Oto was buried deep in Darren’s gut. Blood poured freely.
Darren’s eyes burned cold. His blood-soaked right hand gripped Kogarashi in a deathlock.
His other hand—
The three-fingered Dragon Claw—
Had torn a deep, bone-splitting gouge across Golden Lion’s chest.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 308: Chapter 210: The More-More Fruit Is Mine
Chapter Text
Blood spilled from the corners of both their mouths.
Darren’s face turned pale. His pupils wavered—just slightly out of focus.
“Jihahahaha!! You’re not 'indestructible body'!! You’re just 'body of iron'!!”
Golden Lion spat blood, yet he still grinned, eyes flaring with murderous light.
“I won!! You’re centuries too early to think you can kill me, little Marine!!”
With those words, he suddenly yanked both blades free.
Shlick!!
Thick streams of blood burst from Darren’s palm and abdomen, the blades tearing out in twin crimson arcs mid-air.
A muffled grunt escaped Darren’s throat.
Already critically wounded—and burdened by his overuse of his Devil Fruit’s power—his body had finally reached its limit. He faltered.
“Let’s end this!!”
Golden Lion, blades dripping, let out a savage snarl and rushed toward Darren, who was staggering backward.
With Darren in his current state, one more strike would mean certain death.
“Not on my watch!!”
Sengoku’s form reappeared at Golden Lion’s side. Cloaked in brilliant gold, his palm thundered down.
“You’re in my way, Sengoku!!”
Golden Lion roared in fury, crossing Oto and Kogarashi in a hasty guard, meeting Sengoku’s strike head-on.
BOOM!!
The blast of their clash shook the sky. Golden Lion flew back like a cut kite, spinning through the air.
He twisted mid-fall, reversed his grip, and drove both swords into the ground to halt his momentum.
He didn’t move a muscle—
But the earth beneath him convulsed.
Like a reverse tsunami, the land buckled upward, gathering into three monstrous lions—each dozens of meters tall—that crashed down toward Darren like collapsing mountains.
Lion’s Wrath: Imperial Earth Surge!!
Pain flared in Golden Lion’s chest wound. His gaze twisted with a wrath he had never known before.
In all his years ruling the seas, never had he suffered like this—at the hands of a single man.
Even in the legendary battle at God Valley, he’d walked away unshaken.
But now—he’d been bested by a mere Marine brat.
Unforgivable.
He would kill him.
Yet in that instant—
Sengoku vanished.
Soru!
A burst of speed beyond perception.
In the blink of an eye, Sengoku appeared in front of the kneeling, bleeding Darren. His golden light flared.
“Great Buddha Impact!!”
RUMBLE!!
The three charging lions exploded into fragments, scattered by a storm of golden punches.
But before Sengoku could react—
Golden Lion had disappeared.
“No!!”
Sengoku’s face twisted. He whipped his head around.
“Jihahahahaha!! Let’s see if any of you can stop me now!!”
Golden Lion streaked like a golden phantom—soaring toward the far end of the battlefield.
Toward the collapsed auction house.
The few remaining guards went white as sheets when they saw that monstrous pirate descending on their location.
They abandoned their weapons and fled, no longer even pretending to defend the prize behind them—the More-More Fruit.
“Stop him!!”
Sengoku roared, voice cracking with urgency.
“Yasakani no Magatama…!!”
A blinding flash lit the sky.
Borsalino had just repelled a panting King with a single swing. He transformed into light, soared upward, and spread his arms wide.
Endless bullets of light poured down like a hurricane of destruction.
RATATATATA—
The ground bloomed with explosions.
But Golden Lion was a ghost—dodging and weaving through the hail of light, his flight never once slowing. He surged straight toward the More-More Fruit.
“The fight’s not over yet!!”
A gravelly roar cracked from the other side of the wreckage.
The auction wall exploded outward.
A monstrous figure broke through the debris and charged at Golden Lion like a battering ram—
Douglas Bullet.
But now, Bullet had transformed.
His body was coated in rock and dirt, his frame cloaked in a black-violet sheen of Armament Haki—like a walking siege engine.
“Fusion: Colossal Impact Cannon!!”
A fist one meter wide crashed down like an artillery shell.
“You’re too damn slow, brat from Roger’s crew!!”
Golden Lion sneered. A gleam of crimson flared in his eyes.
Mid-flight, he tilted, drifting into a graceful midair drift—gliding just past Bullet’s strike.
Then—
His twin blades flared to life.
Shing!!
Bullet’s motion froze.
A heartbeat later, his form shattered into rubble.
A massive, bleeding X slashed across his chest—blood gushing, limbs trembling.
For someone like Bullet—relying on brute strength and close combat—Golden Lion, with his speed and surgical blade work, was a natural counter.
“Jihahahahaha!!”
Golden Lion roared with laughter as he blasted forward.
A dozen Marines tried to block him, rushing from all directions.
They might as well have been paper dolls.
In a single breath, his swords cleaved through them—bodies flying like blood-soaked kites.
Closer…
Closer still!
Golden Lion’s eyes burned with greed and ambition—flames roaring behind them.
Locked onto the Devil Fruit resting in the glass case.
He didn’t care if his fleet was destroyed.
He didn’t care if the Marine brat survived.
He didn’t even care about this battle anymore.
As long as—
As long as he got that Devil Fruit…
Everything else was worth it.
With the power of the More-More Fruit, combined with his own Float-Float Fruit—
He could conquer the seas.
He could surpass even Rocks.
He could become the ruler of the world.
No one—
No one can stop me now!!
“No!!”
Sengoku shouted, his face ashen.
Ten meters.
Five.
Three.
One.
Golden Lion’s grin widened. He reached out, laughing—
“The More-More Fruit is mine—huh!?”
His pupils shrank into pinpoints. The triumph on his face froze.
The platform—steel and silent—suddenly came to life.
It reared up like a living mouth—and swallowed the Devil Fruit into the earth.
Then—
The leftover metal twisted upward, forming into a giant metallic hand—
—and flipped him off.
One middle finger. Straight up.
Golden Lion’s eyes filled with bursting veins, bulging in madness.
“...You little Marine brat who doesn’t know his place!!!”
He howled in rage, turning sharply—his eyes bloodshot with murderous intent, locked onto a distant figure on one knee.
The Marine commodore.
Darren.
His face was pale. His breath ragged.
One palm pressed to the ground—flickers of faint lightning dancing across his skin.
His bloodied lips curled into a crooked grin.
“So close… What a shame.”
Golden Lion’s face turned purple with fury.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 309: Chapter 211: One Clean Sweep
Chapter Text
…He’d been played.
No—he’d been played like a fiddle.
As Darren looked his way, flashing that cold, mocking grin from afar, Golden Lion’s mind went blank, his thoughts repeating the same realization over and over again.
That Marine brat… had the ability to seize the More-More Fruit from the very beginning.
Damn it…!!
And that strange hand gesture—even if Golden Lion didn’t know what it meant exactly—he could feel its pure, unfiltered mockery.
“How tragic,”
A slow, easy-going voice drifted in from nearby.
Golden Lion whipped his head around.
Borsalino had just landed, arms spread in a half-hearted shrug. His face was apologetic. His grin? Utterly amused.
In that moment, Golden Lion’s bloodshot eyes pulsed with veins.
And it wasn’t just him.
From the scorched corners of the battlefield—King, gasping for breath… the Perospero brothers… Marco, hidden in the debris… All of them stared in stunned disbelief.
They’d all been fooled.
All of them.
But as that thought struck—
A deeper fear took root.
If the Marines could have taken the More-More Fruit easily all along—then why didn’t they?
One by one, their faces began to pale.
No…
“No loose ends,”
Darren rasped. He grinned, savage and cruel.
Zzzzz…
Blue electricity arced over his skin. A massive, invisible force surged from his broken body, spreading like a tempest.
Lightning danced across his face, casting shadows over his pallid skin and bloody mouth.
But his eyes burned. Wild. Unrestrained.
He slowly raised his blood-soaked right hand.
“No!! Stop him!!”
King’s expression changed.
Perospero and Daifuku’s eyes widened with horror.
Golden Lion’s pupils shrank.
Darren burst into laughter.
Then slammed his palm down.
“All of you… are staying RIGHT HERE!!”
BAM!
His hand struck the earth.
Shhhhk—!!
Streams of fine electric current rippled outward in all directions.
…
Coin Island, Port
“Run!! Hurry, get out of here!!”
“Even Golden Lion’s here—if you stay, you’ll die for sure!!”
“What the hell happened!? His entire fleet got wiped out in minutes!!”
“How would I know!? Just run unless you want to die!!”
“GET TO THE SHIPS!!”
The once-bustling trade port had become a scene of chaos.
Pirates and underworld syndicates from across the world fled in a frenzy, soaked in sweat, scrambling for their ships.
Most had barely escaped the auction house with their lives. None cared about anything else now.
The docks were jammed with pirate vessels. Factions fought for space, insults flared into violence.
Then—
“What the hell… is that…”
On one ship, a pirate dragging up the anchor froze, staring ahead.
His face went ghost-white.
From land… came a groaning metallic rumble—like massive machinery in motion.
It was eerie. Wrong.
Others turned to look.
And then… they all froze.
They stood there—statue-still, soulless.
Across the island, heavy naval cannons had begun to move.
Turning, adjusting.
Aimed directly at the fleeing pirates.
“…It’s over.”
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOOOOM—!!
A tidal wave of firepower engulfed the port.
…
Back at the auction ruins—
The pirates on the battlefield stared in horror as fire and black smoke erupted across Coin Island’s harbors. Over the roar of cannon fire, they could hear the screams.
The ground itself trembled.
Everyone stood still. Struck numb.
“The ports… They’re destroyed…”
“Our ships… They’re all sunk…”
“No way…”
“The Marines… they’ve gone insane…”
“…”
Fear filled their hearts.
Far more than when they saw Golden Lion’s fleet fall.
Because now… there was no escape.
Every single port on Coin Island had been annihilated. Every ship moored was gone.
They were trapped.
Caged.
“Crazy little bastard… Jihahahahaha…”
Golden Lion didn’t know whether to laugh or explode. His bloodshot eyes gleamed with savage light as he stared at the Marine commodore, now shielded behind Sengoku.
“So, Darren brat… you trying to make every pirate on this island join forces and tear you apart?”
What happens when you corner a beast?
Because among the pirates here—there were nearly a hundred with bounties over one hundred million.
And now… every one of them glared at Darren with unfiltered hatred. Murder in their eyes.
Ordinarily, pirates would never dare strike first against the Marines.
But now…
This Marine brat had backed them into a corner.
Sengoku felt the shift instantly. His eyes narrowed.
“PROTECT COMMODORE DARREN!!”
He barked the order.
Immediately, dozens of elite Marines sprang forward, forming a tight defensive ring around the wounded officer.
“Kill me?”
Darren chuckled darkly.
He was gasping, blood dripping from nose and mouth.
He planted both hands on his knees—and forced himself upright.
Then looked up.
His bloodshot eyes swept over the pirates, now closing in from all sides.
“No.”
His lips curled into a grin of brutal contempt.
“I’m here to wipe you all out—in one clean sweep!!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 310: Chapter 212: Is He an Idiot?
Chapter Text
“Kill!!”
“Wipe out the Marines!!”
“Kill Darren!!”
“—!!”
The battlefield exploded into chaos.
Countless pirates surged toward the Marines, eyes bloodshot, faces twisted with frenzy.
Cornered, with no way out, they knew there was only one path left—to fight through or die trying.
“Protect Commodore Darren!!”
“Hold the line!!”
“Don’t let them break through!!”
The Marines opened fire in unison, forming a wall of bodies around Darren.
“…This has never happened before,”
Borsalino suddenly grinned and rose effortlessly into the air.
“Pirates… attacking the Marines first?”
He cracked his knuckles, raised his hands—delicate fingers held in a graceful pose.
Brilliant golden light surged from his body, and a barrage of light bullets rained down like a golden typhoon.
“Yasakani no Magatama.”
BOOOOM—
It was like a divine cleansing. The bombardment landed relentlessly in the pirate ranks, tearing bodies apart mid-charge. Many pirates didn’t even have time to react before the bullets swallowed them whole.
Fire surged into the sky. Black smoke choked the battlefield. Screams echoed as men burned alive, writhing until only scorched bones remained.
Behind the Marines, Darren flinched slightly as he watched.
When Borsalino gets serious with that move… it's basically guaranteed death.
“Great Buddha Impact!!”
Sengoku had lost all patience. His colossal golden form, encircled by wave after wave of pirates, swung out his massive palm.
Each blow sent dozens of enemies flying—coughing blood, bones breaking on impact.
Shockwaves thundered across the field, tearing up the earth.
“HKAHAHAHA!! Yes!! THIS!! This is what I live for!!”
A triumphant roar rang out.
Bullet hurled himself into the pirate mob like a raging beast—his attacks were wide, brutal, overwhelming. Not a single pirate could stand against him.
“Damn it, Bullet, you bastard!! You're a pirate too!!”
“Go kill the Marines! What the hell are you doing attacking us!?”
“We’re on the same side right now, aren’t we!?”
Bullet punched through one pirate’s skull, then launched a whip-kick that sent a hundred-million bounty pirate flying a hundred meters.
Eyes glowing red, he roared with laughter:
“Why the hell would I take orders from YOU!?”
“Pirates, Marines—I’ll kill whoever I damn well please!!”
“I’m not on the same side as a bunch of pathetic trash like you!!”
“Kahahaha!! Darren—watch closely!! I’m way stronger than you!!”
Darren: …
He was silent for a moment. Then he sneered:
“Oh? I don’t buy it.”
“I single-handedly annihilated Golden Lion’s fleet.”
“If you want to prove you’re stronger than me—then take out all the pirates here with bounties over 100 million.”
“There aren’t that many. Just forty or fifty or so. Do that, and I’ll admit you’re stronger.”
Bullet paused.
Then his eyes lit up—glowing with feverish energy.
“Hahaha!! You said it!!”
“Get ready to eat your words!!”
“You’re too injured to be worth killing right now anyway!!”
He turned sharply.
The pirates facing him blanched.
Bullet licked his cracked lips, eyes gleaming like a wolf staring down prey.
“Sorry, but you lot… better try your best to entertain me.”
He activated his Devil Fruit again.
A swirling vortex of purple-black energy expanded from his body.
Rocks and soil from the battlefield gathered around him in a torrent—and in seconds, he transformed into a colossal figure over a hundred meters tall.
Rising from the earth.
“This time… I’m gonna kill to my heart’s content!!”
Bullet howled, laughing madly as he brought down a mountain-sized fist.
BOOM!!
Dozens of pirates were crushed instantly—before they could even react.
The ground split apart. Debris soared.
Bullet’s maniacal laughter shook the sky. His fortress-sized body charged into the densest mass of pirates—obliterating everything in his path.
Blood flooded the battlefield.
Sengoku gaped.
…This is really happening?
Is he a complete idiot?
He turned to Darren, dumbfounded.
Darren gave a tired shrug.
…
Of course—not everyone was without escape.
“…Time to go.”
Perospero supported the badly wounded Daifuku, glancing around the chaos and muttering low.
Daifuku bit his lip, silent.
The More-More Fruit had already fallen into Marine hands. Their chance was gone.
Coin Island might be crawling with pirates, but against the elite force the Marines had brought, they were nothing more than a scattered mob.
Even if they outnumbered them for now—Sengoku and Borsalino were still fighting at full power.
It was only a matter of time before the rest were wiped out.
They were already injured. If they stayed any longer—they’d die here too.
And it wasn’t just them.
Across the field—
King dropped down onto a broken rooftop, panting heavily.
One hand clutched his bleeding abdomen.
Blood flowed beneath his mask, staining his chest.
“…Time to retreat.”
He whispered hoarsely.
Borsalino’s strength had far exceeded anything he’d anticipated.
The fact that the man still looked completely relaxed… meant he hadn’t even gotten serious yet.
“Hey. You’re still here? If you don’t leave now, you won’t get another chance.”
King suddenly called out toward a shadowy corner nearby.
After a pause, a figure stepped out from the gloom.
Marco lifted the edge of his hood, sighing.
“How’d you find me?”
King replied coldly:
“You hid well. But that phoenix scent of yours? I could smell it from miles away.”
As a fellow Zoan-type user, with special racial lineage, King’s sense of smell for other races was especially acute.
Marco blinked.
That hesitation cost him.
Shing!!
A streak of black light shot through his body.
Marco’s pupils froze.
He looked down.
Blue flames flickered to life in his abdomen, healing the wound rapidly.
Discovered…!?
He jerked his head up.
In the crowd of Marines, Darren was staring right at him.
With a grin.
“Marco. It’s been a while.”
“How’s Kozuki Oden doing? Oh, and when you see him again—tell him something for me.”
Darren raised his hand.
The black light that pierced Marco flew back into his grasp.
He caught it.
“This sword—Enma—fits my hand perfectly.”
Darren smiled faintly.
“If I get the chance… I’ll visit him again.”
“Ame no Habakiri… has caught my eye too.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 311: Chapter 213: One More Enemy Makes No Difference
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
That bastard…
Marco shuddered at the sight of Darren’s unrestrained grin. An involuntary chill crept up his spine.
If their last encounter had shown him Darren’s ferocity, then what happened today—this entire auction house fiasco—had revealed something else entirely:
His madness.
He didn’t even hesitate to scheme against Golden Lion—one of the only pirates considered equal to Marco’s own captain.
And he had effortlessly destroyed Golden Lion’s invincible airborne fleet.
This Marine was terrifying.
In strength, cunning, composure, long-term planning, and battlefield judgment—Darren outclassed anyone Marco had ever met.
To be targeted by someone like him… was to never sleep peacefully again.
“Damn it…”
Marco clenched his jaw and shot Darren a vicious glare. Flames of azure blue burst from his hands, forming a pair of flaming wings that carried him up into the sky.
King also gave Darren one last long look—eyes wary, even fearful—then transformed into his pterosaur form. His burning crimson wings beat the air, launching him into the sky.
Their silhouettes vanished swiftly beyond the clouds.
They knew full well: if they didn’t retreat now, once Sengoku and Borsalino finished off the remaining pirates, they would never escape.
Darren didn’t try to stop them.
Frankly, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t.
Detonating the ports and sinking every pirate ship with his Devil Fruit ability had drained the last of his energy.
Standing upright now was already a struggle.
His body had reached its absolute limit.
The “Electromagnetic Wrath: Ten Thousand Cannons” had covered the entire island—its destructive power immense. It had wiped out Golden Lion’s fleet in an instant—but it also cost Darren dearly.
The move was only possible thanks to the terrain of Coin Island. It was a miracle—not something he could reproduce again.
“Well… looks like it’s almost over.”
He lowered his gaze from the sky, scanning the battlefield—until his eyes locked onto the floating figure of Golden Lion in the distance.
Most of the pirates had already been defeated, the remaining ones subdued by Marines.
Especially under Borsalino’s “clean sweep” light attacks—even pirates with hundred-million bounties couldn’t withstand a single laser beam.
He might be lazy, but when he actually works, he’s terrifyingly reliable.
Flames still scorched the ground. Smoke spiraled into the sky.
The land surrounding the auction grounds had turned to ashes. Pirates moaned in agony, bodies sprawled like scattered corpses.
“Golden Lion… it’s over.”
Sengoku had reverted to human form. He panted heavily, eyes locked on Golden Lion’s grim silhouette.
He stepped forward, blocking the pirate’s bloodshot stare from reaching Darren.
Borsalino’s form reappeared beside him, smiling lazily as he pointed a glowing finger at Golden Lion.
Golden Lion’s expression darkened.
He cast a glance at Bullet—still tearing through pirates in the distance—and suddenly let out a cold chuckle.
“How amusing… Sengoku, I didn’t expect your Marines to produce someone like him.”
His furious eyes burned straight through Sengoku and Borsalino—locking onto Darren.
“You think you can protect him forever?”
Sengoku’s heart sank.
He knew Golden Lion’s nature well.
Cruel. Murderous. Vengeful.
“I don’t respond well to threats,”
Darren sneered suddenly.
“You think you’re the only one who wants me dead? Please. Get in line.”
He grinned defiantly—and started counting on his fingers.
“Birnndy World wanted me dead. He’s already buried.”
“Gol D. Roger tried to kill me. Lost his pants.”
“Kaido’s main base? I burned it to the ground. He probably wants to tear me apart and feed me to his pets.”
“And Whitebeard? I lopped off his sworn brother’s arm and nearly sank their flagship. Still breathing, aren’t I?”
At first, Sengoku nodded proudly.
But the more Darren spoke, the darker his face became.
Wait a minute… did this brat just make enemies of literally every monster in the sea!?
“And as for you, Golden Lion…”
Darren’s grin turned feral. His arrogance was so thick Sengoku wanted to cover his mouth.
“Your grand airborne fleet—forty ships, fifty thousand men—gone in a puff of fireworks. What exactly do you think you’re going to do about it?”
“And this More-More Fruit—”
He raised his hand.
The ground writhed. Metal rose, split open like jaws—
—and revealed the Devil Fruit inside, gently resting in Darren’s palm.
“…You didn’t even get to touch it.”
Golden Lion’s pupils turned blood-red.
“You little brat!! You’re DEAD!!”
He roared and slashed the air—
BOOM!!
The earth erupted beneath him, surging upward into three enormous lions—hundreds of meters tall—baring fangs as they came crashing down on Darren.
Lion’s Tail: Imperial Earth Surge!!
“Darren!! SHUT THE HELL UP!!”
Sengoku shouted, bursting with golden light.
Borsalino sighed, arms outstretched.
The next moment—
A massive explosion shook all of Coin Island.
The ground shattered. The sky roared.
…
It was a long time before the chaos subsided.
Dust still hung in the air. Corpses littered the battlefield.
Sengoku brushed soot off his tattered coat and looked around the rubble. He finally exhaled.
“He got away. Damn… what a waste.”
Borsalino reformed nearby in a swirl of photons, lazily commenting, “Yup. Slipped through again.”
Sengoku glanced at his pristine coat with annoyance.
He scanned the horizon.
The cratered battlefield was now a graveyard. Bullet had disappeared—most likely escaped during Golden Lion’s chaos.
Thud.
He turned around.
Darren had collapsed flat on his back, gasping, pale as snow.
The commodore glanced weakly at Sengoku and forced a bitter smile.
“…Didn’t think he’d resist the bait to the very end.”
Sengoku sighed and flopped onto the ground beside him.
“Golden Lion’s too clever. It might look like he lost everything, but… his fleet? That means nothing to him. They were just tools.”
“You wanted him to snap and go all out—to fight to the death? Not that easy.”
Besides… even I’m not sure I could’ve protected you if he’d gone berserk, kid.
He didn’t say that part out loud.
Darren chuckled.
“Still worth a try. But at least—we completed our mission perfectly, didn’t we, Admiral Sengoku?”
Sengoku blinked. Then smiled.
He looked out over the scorched battlefield, the countless pirate corpses, the broken wreckage of sky-ships falling from the heavens.
Not far away, the skull flag of the Flying Pirate Crew turned to ash in the flames.
“…Yeah. Well done, Darren.”
His fist clenched quietly.
Single-handedly defeating Golden Lion’s legendary fleet—without losing a single man.
Unbelievable.
Once news of this reached Marine HQ—it wouldn’t just rock the Marine. It would shake the entire world.
An achievement of unprecedented scale.
Not since the battle of God Valley had the Marines scored such a colossal victory.
Wano’s raid was impressive—but Kaido couldn’t compare to Golden Lion in global threat.
“Darren, this is it. You’re definitely getting promoted this time.”
He said it softly—then realized he got no reply.
He looked over.
Darren was already snoring.
Mouth slightly open, fast asleep—like a child.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
And then, mumbling in his sleep, he muttered:
“Toki… You’re beautiful today…”
Sengoku blinked. Then chuckled.
This brat really was a scoundrel.
Still dreaming about women at a time like this…
“Mmh… Gion, you’re gorgeous too…”
Sengoku: “…”
His smile froze.
His face darkened.
“Ahem… we didn’t hear anything, right?”
Borsalino grinned, eyes closed. “Nope, not a word.”
The other Marines all nodded furiously.
“Nothing! We heard nothing!”
Sengoku’s face twitched. He clenched his fist, tempted to beat Darren awake and demand answers.
But then he looked at the wounds.
And remembered the victory.
He took a deep breath.
Forced a stiff smile.
“…Just dreaming. That’s all.”
…
That day—
Marine Commodore Rogers Darren,
single-handedly destroyed the legendary Golden Lion’s Flying Fleet—
and shook the entire world.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Even a kudo or a quick comment means a lot.
I’ll keep going — no worries there.
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 312: Chapter 214: The 80-Point Threshold
Chapter Text
“Ahh… what a refreshing sleep…”
Darren opened his drowsy eyes and stretched his arms with a deep yawn.
When he looked around, he found himself still lying amidst the ruins of the auction house, a thin blanket lightly covering his body.
“Commodore Darren! You’re awake!!”
A young Marine soldier came rushing over, saluting him with enthusiasm. His gaze, brimming with fervent admiration, landed on Darren with a reverence that could hardly be put into words.
“Mmm. How long was I out?”
Darren smiled as he looked at the Marine, whose face was still streaked with blood and dirt.
“Roughly an hour and a half,” the Marine replied gravely. “We're still cleaning up the battlefield.”
Darren glanced into the distance and saw groups of Marines working in small squads — placing Seastone cuffs on surviving pirates, escorting prisoners, collecting bodies, and comforting the civilians.
He gave a slight nod and said with a gentle smile:
“You’ve all worked hard.”
“Not at all!! Commodore Darren, it’s you who should rest and recover properly!”
The young soldier looked at Darren with blazing eyes — his adoration impossible to contain.
To single-handedly annihilate Golden Lion’s Flying Fleet…
To devise a strategy so sharp and overwhelming that it wiped out nearly every pirate on the island in one swoop…
And to seize the More-More Fruit in the process…
In all his years of service, he had never witnessed such an exceptional commanding officer.
Even though the official tally wasn’t yet complete, the mere fact that Golden Lion’s pirate fleet had been crushed — that feat alone was enough to inspire admiration in any Marine.
Recovering… huh?
Darren quietly examined the state of his body and let out a muted chuckle.
His wounds had already been stitched and bandaged. After that solid nap, he could feel the beginnings of scabbing — the faint itch of healing flesh.
As for fatigue… it had mostly dissipated.
Ever since his physique stats crossed the 80-point threshold, his already formidable regenerative ability had leapt to an even higher level.
If his physique continued to grow — say, to around 90 — he suspected he might one day attain the terrifying recovery rate of a Zoan Devil Fruit awakened user.
With that thought in mind, he steadied his breathing and activated his innate sensing ability to scan his current stats:
Physique: 86.312 (Steel Body)
Strength: 75.513
Speed: 74.711
Devil Fruit: 81.211 (Island-wide Coverage)
Armament Haki: 50.035
Observation Haki: 37.117
Conqueror’s Haki: 53.301
The progress was remarkable.
Darren’s lips curled upward.
Indeed — fighting the strong was the fastest path to growth.
It just… cost a bit of life.
After this battle, all his core attributes — physique, strength, and speed — had improved by nearly a full point each.
That kind of growth through regular training would’ve taken at least a month.
At his current level, every fraction of progress came at a steep price.
Especially once a stat broke past the 80-point mark — it became exponentially harder to improve.
It truly felt like 80 was a distinct watershed.
Take “Devil Fruit,” for instance.
If it hadn’t been for his training under the suppression of Sea Prism Stones, he never would’ve broken through that 80-point barrier — nor mastered the level of control needed to manipulate all the island’s metal and unleash Electromagnetic Wrath: Ten Thousand Cannons.
“So… perhaps it’s time to focus more on ‘strength’ and ‘speed’?”
Darren murmured to himself, deep in thought.
Once a stat surpassed 80, pushing it further demanded far more effort.
To gain more efficient, cost-effective growth, it made sense to get his other stats up to that same threshold first.
Crossing that line triggered a qualitative leap — a transformation born of sheer accumulation.
“You little brat, you’re finally awake.”
Sengoku’s deep voice cut through Darren’s thoughts.
Darren snapped back to reality and turned to see Sengoku, drenched in sweat, working tirelessly amidst the chaos. He chuckled.
“Yes, Admiral Sengoku.”
Sengoku’s face remained expressionless.
“Good. Then get your ass up already. We’ve got a mountain of work left to do.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, face dark, but offering warm smiles as he calmed the panicked civilians.
Darren: “…”
Well that’s cold.
Not even going to ask how I’m doing?
I bled for the Marines! I fought for the government!
“What’s with the old man? Who pissed him off?”
Darren asked the Marine beside him, clearly puzzled.
This wasn’t like Sengoku. Normally, after a win like this, he’d be grinning ear to ear — feigning calm, but inwardly overjoyed.
The Marine’s face twitched.
“Uh… Commodore Darren, I’m not sure either.”
“M-maybe Admiral Sengoku’s just in a bad mood?”
Darren pouted, grumbling,
“Winning a battle puts him in a bad mood? The man’s impossible to please.”
Suddenly, a panicked voice echoed from nearby.
“Quick! Get help over here!!”
“Where’s the medic?!”
“There’s an injured man!!”
“Damn it!! Where’s the field doctor?!”
Startled, Darren saw a group of a dozen Marines rushing toward the commotion. His brow furrowed in concern.
“What’s going on?”
The Marine shook his head.
“I don’t know either, sir.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
Darren stood and made his way over.
…
“What the…”
“It won’t open!”
“Damn it… what is this thing?!”
“Arthur!!”
A crowd had gathered, their faces filled with worry.
In front of them stood a massive pink “wall,” solid and unyielding.
Inside it, encased as if in amber, was a young Marine — perfectly preserved.
“It’s… candy — made by Charlotte Perospero!”
“No good! We can’t break it open!”
A few Marines desperately slashed at the candy with their sabers, but even after chipping the blades, they couldn’t make a dent in the hardened pink shell — only sparks flew.
Darren’s eyes widened in recognition.
The man sealed inside… was Arthur.
The young Marine Darren had taken a liking to.
Inside the candy, Arthur held his saber tightly, his youthful face locked in an expression of unshakable resolve — still charging forward, fearless in the face of death.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 313: Chapter 215: He Really Admires You
Chapter Text
Staring at the young Marine frozen in candy before him, Darren could already imagine the scene playing out in his mind:
Just as Perospero and Daifuku were escaping amid the chaos, Arthur — stationed at the perimeter for security — happened to cross paths with them.
Driven by an unshakable sense of justice and a burning conviction to eliminate pirates, Arthur had charged in like a young, reckless version of Dragon himself, determined to stop the fleeing enemies.
He must have known full well that he was no match for the Charlotte brothers.
And yet… he still raised his saber and rushed forward.
—To uphold the justice in his heart.
Darren let out a quiet sigh.
Guys like this… it’s hard to be mad at them.
He reached out and gently touched the surface of the candy. After a moment’s thought, he turned to the anxious Marines nearby and said:
“This candy — its hardness and tensile strength are both incredibly high. What you’re doing won’t help. Only high heat can melt it.”
“Let me handle it.”
A slow, leisurely voice sounded from behind.
Darren turned around, surprised to find Borsalino had somehow appeared without a sound.
Seeing Darren’s puzzled look, Borsalino smiled lazily and raised his hand.
Golden light began to glow from his palm. The surrounding air shimmered under the terrifying heat.
“Easy now, Rear Admiral Borsalino…”
Darren’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help but issue a warning.
The destructive power of Borsalino’s Devil Fruit was no joke. One slip, and Arthur would be incinerated into nothing.
Borsalino smirked and said teasingly:
“Relax. I’ll be careful not to melt him too.”
Darren: ……
The surrounding Marines: ……
That tone only makes us more nervous, okay?
As everyone held their breath and watched in tense silence, Borsalino slowly pressed his glowing palm against the pink transparent candy.
There was no sudden piercing burst. No violent reaction.
The crowd’s eyes widened with astonishment.
From Borsalino’s hand, heat radiated outward — gently and evenly.
The massive candy wall began to melt at a speed visible to the naked eye, flowing down to the ground in syrupy streams.
Darren’s pupils contracted slightly.
Watching Borsalino's effortless expression, Darren felt a chill deep in his chest.
He knew all too well the destructive potential of Borsalino’s Devil Fruit.
A casual attack could pierce through a hundred-meter-tall red mangrove.
To wield such terrifying power and yet control it with such delicacy — that required an extraordinary level of Devil Fruit mastery, and a terrifying degree of control over one’s strength.
—To step on an ant without killing it… That’s a feat not many could manage.
…Just how powerful had Borsalino become?
Darren narrowed his eyes.
In less than two minutes, the entire massive candy barrier had melted into syrup.
“We did it!!”
“Quick! Medic, over here!!”
“How’s Arthur!?”
“He’s not breathing!! Damn it!!”
As the candy dissolved, the Marines rushed forward to support Arthur, gently laying him flat.
But no matter how they called his name or shook him — he didn’t stir.
Not even the faintest sign of breath.
The medic quickly examined him, his brows knitting tighter with each passing second.
“Doctor, how is he?”
Sengoku had hurried over by now, his voice tinged with worry.
The medic looked at him grimly and shook his head.
“Admiral Sengoku… Lieutenant Arthur has stopped breathing. We can’t detect any signs of life. I’m afraid…”
The mood turned heavy in an instant.
“Damn it!!”
Sengoku cursed under his breath, his eyes dark.
He’d had high hopes for Arthur. In both training and combat, he had excelled.
His innate sense of justice, his sincere bond with his comrades — he had earned the respect of all those around him.
And now…
“Let me try something.”
Darren suddenly stepped forward.
“You have a way?” Sengoku asked, stunned.
Darren shook his head.
“I’m not sure. But trying something is better than doing nothing.”
“This condition of his…”
As he spoke, he knelt beside Arthur and raised a hand.
Faint sparks began dancing across his fingers.
“Electric shock?” the medic’s eyes lit up.
“Do you think it’ll work, Darren?” Sengoku asked curiously.
Darren said nothing.
He carefully controlled the power within his body and pressed his hand against Arthur’s chest — directly over his heart.
The core ability of his Magnet-Magnet Fruit was manipulating magnetic fields, but it could also generate small electric currents.
Though not strong enough to harm, it might just be enough — for this.
He’d never tried it before.
But this was the moment to find out.
“Electromagnetic… Resuscitation!”
Darren’s gaze sharpened as he thrust his hand downward.
Electricity surged!
Arthur’s rigid body jerked violently.
Everyone held their breath.
One second.
Two.
Three.
No response.
Gritting his teeth, Darren tried again!
Blue electricity arced out.
Arthur’s body convulsed again.
One second.
Two.
Three…
Just as despair began to settle over the crowd—
Arthur suddenly let out a violent cough, liquid candy gushing from his mouth and nose.
“He’s alive!!”
“We did it!!”
“Arthur, are you okay?!”
The Marines burst into tears of joy, rushing forward to hug their revived comrade.
Sengoku, too, let out a long, relieved breath.
…
One hour later.
Aboard the returning battleship.
Darren and Borsalino lounged comfortably in deck chairs, each holding a glass of watermelon juice.
“Rear Admiral Borsalino! Commodore Darren!!”
Arthur ran over to them, his youthful face flushed with emotion. Bowing deeply, he choked out:
“I owe you both my life — thank you!!”
Borsalino shrugged.
“Wasn’t me… All the credit goes to Commodore Darren.”
He gestured toward Darren.
Darren smiled.
“How’s the body?”
Arthur straightened and saluted.
“No issues at all, sir! Ready for duty anytime!”
Darren chuckled.
“Just don’t be so reckless next time. That was a senior officer of the Big Mom Pirates — you’re nowhere near ready to face someone like that.”
Arthur flushed red, scratching his head sheepishly.
“I just didn’t want to shame you, Commodore… You said we were going to take down every pirate on the island…”
Darren blinked.
That was just a motivational line — and this kid actually took it literally?
“……”
He sighed helplessly and waved his hand.
“Get back to work.”
“Yes, Commodore Darren!”
Arthur saluted again and quickly jogged to the ship’s gun deck, pulling out a paintbrush to start his regular cannon maintenance — focused, serious, and meticulous.
“…You can tell,” Borsalino said suddenly with a smile. “He really admires you.”
Darren stood watching Arthur in silence for a long moment.
Then, all at once, he downed his juice and rose to his feet.
“Tell Admiral Sengoku I’ve got something to take care of. I’ll be back soon.”
Borsalino’s lips curved upward.
“Need me to tag along?”
Darren shook his head, his gaze turning ice cold as it swept across the distant sea.
“No. Arthur is my subordinate.”
With that, he summoned Enma and shot into the sky — vanishing into the horizon.
Borsalino watched him go, a faint smile playing at his lips.
“Where’s Darren headed?”
Sengoku walked up, frowning.
Borsalino raised both hands innocently.
“Beats me… Though before he left, he said something like… ‘Arthur is my subordinate.’”
Sengoku paused.
Then, as if realization struck, his face changed.
Darren…
He was going after the Charlotte brothers.
Wait a minute—
Sengoku suddenly remembered something.
The Charlotte brothers were blood relatives of Big Mom.
If Darren killed them…
A drop of cold sweat rolled down Sengoku’s temple.
This damned brat… he’s going to end up making enemies out of every pirate emperor in this sea!!!
---
To be continued…
Chapter 314: Chapter 216: A Flying Sword!?
Chapter Text
An uninhabited island.
Deep within the island’s jungle, towering trees stood sentinel.
On the rocky, reef-strewn shoreline, waves crashed and frosted the rocks with white spray, while a makeshift wooden raft—crafted from candy—bobbed with the sea’s rhythm.
“Let’s rest here for a while,” Perospero declared, jumping off the candy raft onto the beach. He balanced a recalibrated candy staff and surveyed the island, nodding with satisfaction.
He glanced at Daifuku, who stumbled off after him, then said, “Your injuries are serious. Though I used candy to stabilize your broken bones, your internal wounds still ache. We should recover here for a few days before moving on.”
“I told you… I’m fine, Perospero,” Daifuku replied hoarsely, his dull eyes glaring. “I’m fine.”
Perospero sighed.
Though they had journeyed with Mom—Big Mom—across the New World, conquering islands for Totto Land, true battles against top-tier opponents were rare.
The New World was chaotic and dangerous, yet even among powerful crews like Big Mom’s, there existed an unspoken understanding.
Territories were respected—there were no needless invasions. Instead, expansion tended to target small, neutral islands and kingdoms.
Facing Big Mom’s overwhelming might, those nations crumbled before her like paper—either kneeling in humiliation or offering alliance through marriage.
It made conquest seem effortless.
This unbroken string of victories instilled arrogance within every member of the Charlotte family, making them believe nothing could stand in their way.
Perospero and Daifuku shared that belief.
They thought the Big Mom Pirates were invincible—the strongest force on the seas.
But this mission forcibly reminded them just how vast the ocean truly is.
One strike.
A single blow from Admiral Sengoku shattered their pride and confidence, turning all their illusions into nothing but fragile bubbles.
If Perospero hadn’t barricaded himself with candy to block the worst of the impact, Daifuku would have suffered far worse than just broken bones.
Perospero’s mind replayed the memory of that golden Buddha’s oppressive force—before that palm, his own strength felt as fragile as an ant, and terror flickered in his eyes.
“Stop pretending you’re fine, Daifuku.”
Perospero licked his cracked lips and sat on a nearby reef, retrieving a pocket compass to check their bearings.
“We’ll pause here for two or three days, then resume.”
“This island is close to Whole Cake Island—no way the Marines will track us here.”
Daifuku gritted his teeth, his dead fish eyes burning with murderous intent: “Damn Marines, trying to wipe out every pirate on the island!”
“Sengoku’s attack… and even some Lieutenant who popped up out of nowhere dared to target us—trying to detain us!—They’ve got no idea what they’re doing!”
He growled, his tone icy.
Perospero observed him thoughtfully.
As eldest son of the Charlotte family, Perospero was naturally disciplined and tactful—a strategist within the crew. He understood his brother deeply.
Cold, ruthless, and decisive—Daifuku had never tasted real defeat. Now, his mind overflowed with stifled anger and humiliation.
“Don’t worry. That Marine kid is as good as dead. Being wrapped in my candy means he’ll suffer a far worse death.”
Perospero patted Daifuku’s marshmallow-like shoulder, a cold smile curling on his lips.
Daifuku clenched his mouth, silent.
Perospero shook his head, then pulled out a Den Den Mushi to contact Whole Cake Island and report their mission.
He stared at the device, inhaling deeply as if steeling his nerve—his eyes flickering with dread.
Mom’s orders could not fail.
It was an absolute rule within the Big Mom Pirates.
Failure meant severe punishment—soul retribution.
At worst, death; at best, years stripped from one’s lifespan.
Though this failure wasn’t entirely their fault…
Even Perospero felt a chill down his spine at the thought of Mom’s unpredictable, unstable temperament and her merciless wrath when her emotions flared. The terror of her losing control was etched into every member of the crew—forever.
Daifuku, realizing the gravity of the situation, swallowed and paled. He ground his teeth: “Brother, if Mom blames us, we’ll take the fall together.”
Perospero forced a weak smile and lifted his hand to the communication device.
“Purupuru… purupuru…”
The Den Den Mushi's call rang out—a death knell to both their anxious hearts.
“Gacha!”
The connection clicked. On screen appeared a feminine visage—pink hair, long lashes, red lips.
“Mamamama… my dear sons, did you get the More-More Fruit?” Mom’s slightly hoarse voice carried a commanding power.
Both Perospero and Daifuku froze stiff. Perospero took a deep breath and croaked, “Mom… the mission failed.”
“Sengoku led the Marines… Golden Lion got to Coin Island… we didn’t get the Fruit. Please—”
Before he could finish, both brothers stiffened. They couldn’t ignore the sudden wave of cold that surged down their spines—tension snapped tight in their muscles.
A sharp, ear-splitting crack tore through the air.
A black slash of light hurtled across the sky, vanishing into the ground in an instant.
What was that!?
A flying sword!?
The brothers’ pupils shrank to pinpricks.
“Candy barrier!!”
Boom!!
In the next moment—
A tremendous roar burst across the coast. A vast wall of energy spread outward, sending sea spray towering tens of meters high.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 315: Chapter 217: You Can't Escape
Chapter Text
BOOM!!
A shockwave of dust exploded across the shoreline, rippling outward like waves on a lake.
As fierce winds blew the cloud of dust apart, a five-meter-tall candy wall stood firm before them. Perospero had one hand pressed to the surface, his entire right arm transformed into shimmering pink candy.
When the two brothers saw what had struck, their pupils shrank in unison.
A razor-sharp longsword—wrapped in fierce, ghostly gales—was buried deep within the candy wall.
Crack… crack…
Fine cracks spidered out from the impact point, spreading in all directions across the thick candy barrier.
The jet-black Armament Haki faded from the blade, revealing its silver sheen beneath.
That sword…
Both Perospero and Daifuku froze.
They recognized it instantly.
It was one of the auction items—sold at over 100 million Berries to the occupant of VIP box 3A: a Skillful Grade Blade—Kariumi.
And the man who’d bought it—the one in VIP 3A…
They exchanged a glance, a flicker of uneasy shock in both their eyes.
—Commodore Rogers Darren.
The Marine monster who had summoned ten thousand supercannons in an instant and obliterated Golden Lion’s Flying Pirate Fleet in a single, brutal sweep!
"Not a bad reaction..."
A cold, deep voice rang out from the distant sky.
It paused for a beat, followed by a mocking chuckle.
"Then how about this time?"
There was no visible attack.
Yet, without understanding how or why, both Perospero and Daifuku suddenly felt the hair on their necks rise.
It was the sensation of being locked in place by something unimaginably powerful—like a beast with its jaws wide open or the barrel of a giant cannon trained on their hearts.
Their pulses roared.
"Execute them… Enma."
Soundless.
A flash of black tore through the sky like a demonic bolt of lightning—piercing everything in its path.
The clouds burst open. The air split apart. The sea was carved like paper.
Faster than the naked eye could follow—faster than even Observation Haki could track—it screamed toward its target.
“No—!!”
Perospero's heart seized.
The moment he was locked in by that streak of black light, he felt… death.
Color drained from the world. Only the shadow of death remained.
Eyes bulging with red veins, Perospero clenched his teeth and thrust both arms forward. Torrents of golden candy erupted.
Swish!
In an instant, a massive golden statue appeared with a thunderous crash.
“Candy Maiden!”
“It has to hold!!”
Perospero roared, eyes bloodshot.
The next moment—
The black light struck the ground.
For half a second, silence.
Then—BOOM!!!
An ear-shattering explosion tore through the air, sending waves of pressure surging skyward.
Everything around the point of impact—within hundreds of meters—was shredded, flattened, broken. The earth cracked open in an enormous gash.
The entire island trembled.
And the coastal waters surged into towering waves, roaring like sea dragons.
Dust and ash rose in thick clouds.
Only after several seconds did the swirling debris settle under the sea breeze.
The towering golden statue had melted into a puddle—nothing left but semi-solid lumps of ruined candy.
“Brother Perospero!!”
Daifuku gasped, still shaking. He turned toward his brother—only for his face to go pale with horror.
A severed arm, blood-soaked, fell to the ground.
Perospero clutched the stump where his arm had been, blood gushing through his fingers. His face had turned ghostly white.
Not far behind him, a pitch-black blade burned with ghostly purple flames, embedded deep in the earth.
Its tip pointed directly into the heart of the jungle, where a massive gash—nearly a kilometer long—tore through the terrain like a scar from a god.
“A cursed blade…”
Perospero wheezed, clutching his bleeding stump. The blood pooled beneath him, forming a deep crimson puddle.
Yet he ignored the pain. His eyes fixed firmly on a point in the sky.
“Daifuku… Don’t argue. When the time comes, get on the candy boat and retreat.”
“This island is close to Whole Cake Island. If you’re fast, you can reach it in half an hour. Find Katakuri… I’ll hold him off.”
Daifuku blinked in disbelief.
“What? No! Just you alone—”
“—Shut up!!”
Perospero snapped.
He twisted his head sharply, eyes bloodshot with fury as he unleashed the full authority of the eldest Charlotte son.
“If you stay, you’ll die too!!”
“This isn’t the time to argue. That man’s power is beyond terrifying! Even Katakuri might not stand a chance!”
“He hasn't even shown himself yet—two blades alone took my arm. And we’re both already wounded…”
Perospero’s words dragged Daifuku’s heart down into a pit of despair.
“Do you think you can run?”
That cold, godlike voice rang out again—closer this time.
Both brothers looked up—and their eyes widened in horror.
A towering figure descended from the clouds.
No vehicle. No wings. No tricks.
Just a man suspended in air—his white Marine cape billowing in the gale behind him.
Without a gesture, the two blades embedded in the earth flew back into the sky.
They spun—one black, one white—streaking across the coast, slicing the candy raft into a thousand shards.
Lightning crashed in the brothers’ minds.
Their last escape route—destroyed.
The blades returned to Darren’s side in streaks of light.
Once more, their tips pointed directly at the two pirates—locked in.
“I’m sorry,” Darren said, cold and commanding, looking down at them from the sky.
“But you will die here.”
“Charlotte Perospero, officer of the Big Mom Pirates—bounty: 210 million Berries.”
“Charlotte Daifuku, officer of the Big Mom Pirates—bounty: 180 million Berries.”
“I, Commodore Rogers Darren of Marine Headquarters, hereby declare, in the name of justice…”
“…you are to be executed on the spot.”
His gaze was as merciless as the divine.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 316: Chapter 218: I Have a Proposal
Chapter Text
“…execute on sight!”
The cold voice of Marine Commodore Rogers Darren thundered in the minds of Perospero and Daifuku, jolting them violently.
“Damn Marines!! How did you find us!?” Daifuku suddenly stepped forward, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Darren overhead, his voice gritted.
The New World Ocean was vast—and even the World Government and Marine headquarters couldn’t fully track every movement. So how had this Marine found them—so fast!?
“Our escape route was clearly—”
He didn’t even finish when their pupils constricted.
With no visible motion from Darren, the twin swords—black and white—shot out again like silver and ebony lightning bolts, aimed straight at them.
Before they could react, Darren struck—giving them no chance to breathe or evade.
In truth, tracking them was simple.
Though the New World was vast and chaotic, there were only three navigable sea lanes from Coin Island to Whole Cake Island. Injured and fleeing, Perospero and Daifuku would inevitably take the fastest one.
Darren simply followed that route—and used his magnetism to sense them.
“That bastard!!” Perospero cursed under his breath, awed by the Marine’s precision and ruthlessness.
But as the eldest Charlotte, he had more experience than Daifuku. The moment Darren struck, he slid sideways in an instant, his remaining arm tracing a half-circle in the air and materializing a candy battleship wall to shield them.
“Candy Wall!”
Clang! Clang!
The twin blades slammed into the massive candy barrier, embedding with a violent jolt. Fragments of candy bright as starlight showered around them—beautifully shimmering in the sky.
“They held!” Daifuku exhaled lightly, relief sparking in his eyes.
“That’s because he didn’t coat his blades in Haki… don’t underestimate him!” Perospero’s forehead beaded with sweat as he warned coolly.
Even though they’d blocked Darren’s attack, Perospero’s gaze didn’t relax—it grew sharper. He understood the incredible durability of candy he forged. Not even cannon volleys could easily shatter it.
Yet this Marine had nearly splintered the wall using only the swords’ chemistry and momentum—no Haki involved.
Glancing down at his still-bleeding stump, Perospero bit his lip hard.
He couldn’t get hit.
They had to strike back.
In one decisive moment, Perospero used his Devil Fruit power to regrow his candy arm. With arrow-like precision, he launched a sweeping barrage of candy arrows skyward.
“Rain of Demise!”
“Let’s see how you dodge this!” The cruel smirk on his lip twisted maliciously.
But in the next instant, his smile froze.
Darren hadn’t even moved. He just stood there, letting the candy arrows rain down—and they all bounced off harmlessly.
They rattled off, tearing his clothes slightly—but not so much as a scratch on his skin.
Darren’s eyes narrowed as he smirked in mockery.
“No Haki even used. Seems you are underestimating me.” With that, he vanished instantly.
Perospero and Daifuku’s pupils shrank simultaneously.
The speed—unreal.
A palpable fear coursed down their spines as their Observation Haki flared to full.
“Your reflexes have slowed.” came a low voice from behind as a dark shadow cast over both of them.
“No…it’s your injuries that slow you.” A gust of overpowering wind exploded from behind them—Muscle-shredding power beyond measure.
They could hardly process it.
His Devil Fruit ability alone covered the island—but his strength, speed, and explosive force overwhelmed them both!?
When they’d been on Coin Island, they’d been focused on Admiral Sengoku, barely noticing Darren—only noting his Devil Fruit. They assumed Golden Lion hadn’t used full power.
But now—they realized that this Marine Commodore who single-handedly annihilated Golden Lion’s fleet was terrifyingly dominant in all aspects of raw power.
“Damn it!!” Perospero roared, eyes blood-red. He pulled Daifuku behind him and transformed the candy around him into living armor.
“Candy Armor!”
In his vision, a three-fingered black dragon claw materialized—ripping toward Darren!
“Dragon Claw Fist—Claw of the Dragon!”
Crack!
But the candy armor shattered in a second under the blow. The claw smashed into Perospero’s throat, unrelenting.
He jerked back as blood spurted from his mouth, his body contorted violently in pain.
“Damn it!! Let go of him!!!” Daifuku screamed, rage building inside.
He activated his Steam Fruit power, summoning a giant blue Lamp Demon—towering like a mountain.
“Genie: Fine Slice!!”
The demon roared in rage and swung its blade across Darren’s broad chest with thunderous resonance.
The swing should have sliced a Marine ship in half—but only sparks erupted against Darren’s torso.
“Impossible….” Daifuku turned pale, disbelief flooding his features.
Even in his injured state—he couldn’t believe the attack didn’t penetrate.
As he watched the Marine who stood unmoving, Daifuku felt terror like never before—intense enough to evoke traces of Mom.
“Daifuku…run…” Perospero wheezed, blood raining from his mouth as Darren held his throat. But he slumped, too terrified to cry out.
In desperation, Perospero’s candy tendrils surged from his hands, wrapping around Darren’s forearm in a final attempt to restrain him.
“Run…ah…”
“It ends now,” Darren said, eyes narrowing as he slammed Perospero down with brutal force.
BOOM!!
The ground collapsed once more within a hundred-meter radius, forming a crater riddled with cracks.
Perospero’s eyes stirred for a moment—then lifelessly went blank.
Big Mom Pirate Officer Perospero, bounty 210 million Berries… dead.
“You…you killed my brother…?” Daifuku cried, spatting blood at Darren.
He staggered backward as he watched his brother’s lifeless body.
“Mom will never forgive you…she will never forgive you…”
Darren’s grip tightened. His Haki-coated hand dripped with blood as he advanced toward him.
“It’s troublesome dealing with Big Mom—but you nearly killed my subordinate.”
One step at a time, his footsteps sounded like bells tolling for death.
“I come from the North Blue. You may not know—but there, if you can’t even protect your men, you’re weak.”
“I abided by North Blue’s code—you kill me or I kill you.”
“There is no law in this ocean that says ‘only you Big Mom Pirates can kill—we can’t kill you.’”
Daifuku pressed backward—Darren beckoned with a finger.
Enma and Kariumi shot through the air—piercing both legs and anchoring him to the ground.
“Aaah!!!”
Frenzied agony seized him like a demon’s grip as pain surged.
“You’re done!! Mom will never forgive you!!” he shrieked.
“Mm. I’ll be waiting.” Darren continued forward.
At that moment, a husky female voice suddenly emerged from the ground’s edge.
“Mamamama… amusing little Marine—you’re really not afraid of me?”
Darren froze and turned—spotting a Den Den Mushi at his feet.
He picked it up, frowning: “Big Mom?”
“Mamamama… that’s right— I’m Charlotte Linlin.”
An eerie parody of laughter escaped the device.
“You’re the Marine who toppled Byrnndi World, sent Roger and Whitebeard packing, destroyed the Flying Fleet?”
Darren looked down at the pinned Daifuku with cold calm.
“Indeed.”
“Mamamama!! How interesting!! I’m very interested in you!! I have a proposal…”
Darren shook his head.
“But I’m not interested in you.”
Before the last words fell, he raised his right boot and squashed Daifuku’s head like a watermelon.
Blood sprayed.
Daifuku, Big Mom Pirate Officer—bounty 180 million Berries… dead.
Silence ripped across the world for a heartbeat.
“But you never even heard my proposal…”
Big Mom’s voice echoed again—not from the Den Den Mushi but from behind him.
Darren crushed the device in his hand and turned slowly.
High above, a tall, mature silhouette hovered atop a swirl of black thunderclouds. Over her shoulder rested a massive cursed sword—curved into a menacing grin.
A pink polka-dot ribbon adorned her hat; her pink hair streamed wildly in the wind that tasted of blood.
Her ruby lips curled as she licked them, eyes filled with hungry greed as she stared down at the Marine commodore.
“Mamamama… I think you should be my husband.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 317: Chapter 219: She’s After My Body
Chapter Text
Darren froze mid-step.
So fast?!
…That was his first thought.
This woman is insane?!
…His second.
Big Mom at this moment looks unbelievably sexy?!
…His third.
In that moment, Darren stood stunned, taking in Big Mom atop the thundercloud, unsure what shocked him most.
She bore no resemblance to the gluttonous, mountain-sized madwoman he remembered. Instead, red-hot lips curved into a smile, her pink hair blazing, and her large eyes gazing down with mature authority.
She wore a snug cropped white shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing a deep cleavage tapering to a cinched waist and flat stomach. White hot pants and pink thigh-highs marked flesh indentations on her legs. She had an outrageously curvy, fiery figure, with red leather boots highlighting her long, powerful legs and feral confidence.
Especially standing on a thundercloud, she radiated an elegant yet formidable aura.
—Completely disconnected from the terrifying madwoman!
In that moment, Darren understood why that auction dress triggered such lust among the pirate crowd—why so many gentlemans across the seas arranged marriages with Big Mom.
Because at this moment, she was stunningly deceptive.
This was the year 1493 of the Sea Circle Calendar, and—at just 39 years old—Big Mom was loaded with magnetic, predatory charm.
“Mamamama… how about it, little Marine—will you?” Charlotte Linlin, Big Mom, asked with a bold, playful tone as she saw Darren frozen. Her red lips arched.
Darren’s lips twitched slightly.
Me? No way.
Never mind the fact that he was a Marine and she a pirate—he sure as hell didn’t want to serve a mad cannibal with such unpredictable impulses.
Sure, present-day Big Mom was astonishingly alluring—this domineering, sensual woman stirred a primal desire to conquer.
But Darren couldn’t forget the horrifying image of that madwoman devolving into a flesh-quarry. His mind froze in terror.
Just like seeing a beautiful woman… then catching her defecating or flicking snot at you. All illusions shattered instantly.
And another small factor—
Standing nearly eight meters tall, Big Mom’s height made Darren’s spine ache with fatigue. His own three-meter frame—already monstrous by human standards—felt like an insect next to her.
He drew a deep breath, expression hardening. He raised a hand in the universal “No!” gesture and declared firmly:
“I refuse!”
“Oh?” Charlotte Linlin raised a refined brow, smirking.
“Why not?” she prodded, exuding bold confidence, regal even.
Darren replied without emotion: “I’m a righteous Marine. You’re a pirate—by law, you’re evil!”
He pointed at the two corpses, voice laced with contempt: “And I just killed your two sons—don’t you want revenge?”
Big Mom paused, then laughed heartily:
“Mamamama… you killed Perospero and Daifuku—I am angry.”
“If it were someone else, you’d be dead by now.”
“After all, though Perospero and Daifuku weren’t top-tier, they were among my better children. You killed them—so I’m troubled.”
“But—”
Her eyes glinted with wild greed and a twisted fascination.
She regarded Darren like a mischievous kid discovering a rare treasure, licking her lips:
“You’re different.”
“You, little Marine—if I’m not mistaken, your physique is Steel Body, yes? Just like me.”
Darren remained silent as Big Mom’s voice dropped into ecstatic frenzy:
“You possess the Steel Body, monstrous strength rivaling Giants, extraordinary speed, and a powerful Devil Fruit—”
She threw open her arms, her horns swaying over her chest:
“If you become my husband, our union… will spawn the most powerful warrior this sea has ever seen!”
“Our blood might even surpass mine—a true natural destroyer!”
“He will bury anything in his path!”
“He will be king of all races, and build a world of genuine equality, freedom, and harmony!!”
“Mamamamama! So, little Marine… won’t you be my husband?”
Darren: “……”
The word “stud”—like “breeding stallion”—smashed into his mind, making him dizzy and his vision blur.
She wants my body?!
Gross!
Especially with her unapologetic stare—like she wanted to devour him whole.
Darren felt goosebumps. As though insects crawled over his skin in disgust.
“Don’t even think about it!!” he roared, eyes blazing as his aura exploded outward.
He unconsciously unleashed Conqueror’s Haki!
“Force of a King!!” Big Mom was thrilled. Her eyes gleamed with lust rather than shock.
“You awakened Conqueror’s Haki!!! Mamamama… I was right!! You’re perfect for me, Charlotte Linlin’s husband!!”
“Submit to me!”
A vast, oppressive Conqueror’s Haki erupted from Big Mom, pressing down on Darren instantly.
With a terrible roar, she raised her arm and seized Cloud Zeus.
zzt zzt zzt!
Lightning spread across the sky like a choking web.
“This is no longer your choice!!” she commanded.
A massive pillar of purple thunder—like a ravaging serpent—tore through the clouds, crashing toward Darren.
“Lightning!!”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 318: Chapter 220: I Will Have You
Chapter Text
The sky suddenly darkened.
Without warning, a blinding vortex of purple thunder exploded into Darren’s vision—writhing like a celestial dragon, tearing through the heavens and completely overwhelming him.
“Mamamama!! Such raw power should’ve felled you—” Big Mom’s voice carried confidence, but in the next moment, shock froze her crimson lips and her eyes went wide.
“How is the lightning—not affecting you!?”
With a flash, Darren shot out from the storm like an unleashed tiger—completely unscathed.
“Because I have willpower!!” he roared.
Big Mom’s Zeus—summoned from one of her strongest Homies—was no match for Darren, who had been tempered by the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. Her lightning was fueled by soul manipulation, but Darren’s elemental resistance stood firm. Reality rattled around them as Darren’s speed delivered him above her head in an instant.
He drew his leg back, Haki-infused boot poised high, and struck downward like a vengeful thunderbolt.
That lunatic woman—she wanted his flesh? Unacceptable.
His foot sliced through the air, leaving concentric waves of raw force.
Big Mom’s pupils narrowed. The sheer velocity and ferocity he displayed far eclipsed her expectations. No wonder Perospero and Daifuku fell before him so easily.
“Mamamama!! Excellent!” she laughed, delighting in the display. She brandished her greatsword and struck.
CLANG!
The clash of steel rang like chimes. A fierce shockwave erupted, hurling dust and debris outward as the pair was blasted apart.
Darren rolled mid-air, using his magnetic belt and steel boot to reorient himself with precision. Big Mom skidded along the ground, her red boots carving furrows.
“Mamamama… your physique is truly extraordinary—almost a match for mine,” she purred, craving ownership.
Her eyes burned with zeal: “Such a perfect body and lineage…then I see no reason to hold back.”
She stretched her hand, summoning a blazing orb:
“Prometheus!!”
An infernal, fiery sphere danced around her, growing larger before revealing a mischievous, human-like grin.
Prometheus—her sun-homies counterpart to Zeus.
“Mamamama!! Darren, let’s see how long you can survive in my grasp!”
With a flick, she hurled the fiery globe at him.
Inside, Darren cursed her atrocious phrasing—but didn’t hesitate. He flicked a coin from his hand, spinning it into the air. Its metallic face reflected Big Mom’s fiery visage.
Then—
“Fire from the sky!”
“Magnetic Overload — Railgun!”
Prometheus launched its roaring flames while Darren’s magnetic beam sizzled across the sky. The two strikes pierced the air in parallel, tearing through atmosphere with a thunderous roar.
All obstacles—rock, wood, earth—vaporized instantly, leaving scorched scars and ravaged terrain.
Explosions shattered the calm with hellish fury. Blasts of heat raced in all directions. Over the water, mountains of waves arose. Forests uprooted and leapt into the storm.
“Mamamama!! Such perfection…I can’t wait to taste you…” Big Mom moaned, excitement trembling in her voice, crimson blush rising.
The stronger Darren grew, the more her blood flared. She whispered, “Darren…if you keep resisting… I… might lose control and kill you…"
Her tone softened into familiarity: from “little Marine” to “Darren.”
“Hell no!!” Darren shouted, red with rage. The contempt for being merely another disposable husband erupted in his voice.
“Forget it, you insane woman!”
As his words faded—he commanded: “Shoot her. Enma.”
The roaring flames recoiled like a tide before a threat.
Big Mom’s pupils constricted.
With silent precision, black-drenched steel sliced through the inferno—so pure, so fast that the thunder itself seemed delayed. Spiraling vortexes of shadow and purple air shredded the ground beneath it.
“Cursed blade!?” she gasped, dread tightening her spine.
For the first time, she realized: this blade—this single strike—could wound her.
No time to flee, she locked eyes with the soaring shadow of Enma.
She thrust her massive sword—Napoleon—with godlike power in both hands.
BOOM!
Napoleon struck Enma’s tip precisely. Waves of red-black Haki slammed outward, spawning storms of destruction.
The island cracked—literally split in two. Trees collapsed into the rift. Tempest winds shredded the clouds.
Then—
Big Mom emerged from the chaos—a colossus of furious power, purple lightning crackling through her flaming pink hair. She stared at the receding sky where Darren vanished.
“Darren!! I…will never…give up on you!!”
“You wait…”
Standing on the crumbling cliffs of her island, she laughed—madly, righteously, full of blood-lust:
“One day…I will have you!!”
“Mamamama!!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 319: Chapter 221: Power Rankings
Chapter Text
The battleship sailed steadily along its designated course, heading toward Marine HQ—Marineford.
“Yes, Fleet Admiral Kong… The mission was executed flawlessly.”
“...That’s right. In this operation, Commodore Darren displayed remarkable strength and precise judgment...”
“Mhm, mhm. No problem at all…”
Sengoku ended the call with the military Den Den Mushi, a satisfied smile unconsciously forming on his face.
He stood at the prow of the ship, arms spread wide as he stretched lazily, the boundless blue sea before him bringing an invigorating sense of calm.
This Coin Island operation had been a tremendous success.
It marked the Marines’ greatest victory over criminal forces since the God Valley Incident, with the total annihilation of the Golden Lion’s invincible Flying Pirate Fleet.
Though the lion’s share of credit belonged to Darren, and Sengoku had merely "assisted from the side," he was still the commanding officer—he’d certainly earned his share of the merits.
“That damn kid Darren... Always stirring up trouble, but damn if he isn't powerful.”
The memory made Sengoku chuckle, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
Looking back now, it was clear: several key operations had only succeeded because of Darren.
“World Destroyer” Byrnndi World.
“Beasts” Kaido.
And now, “Golden Lion” Shiki...
No matter who he faced, Darren consistently broke through with astonishing strategy and judgment, turning the tide in the Marines’ favor and earning great achievements.
Sengoku himself, in contrast, often felt like he was just picking up the pieces afterward.
That time with Byrnndi World—Darren had taken him down before Sengoku had even lifted a finger.
During the Kaido operation, by the time the Marine main force arrived at the Beasts Pirates’ base, Darren had already destroyed most of their weapons production. All they did was mop up.
And this time?
Sengoku’s mouth twitched.
“Well, that’s not my fault. I can’t fly, after all.”
He muttered, consoling himself.
But just then—he froze.
“What was that!?”
Something had stirred his instincts. He spun around abruptly.
A figure plummeted from the sky at terrifying speed, crashing straight through the deck.
BOOM!!
A massive hole erupted in the deck, splinters flying everywhere.
“What happened!?”
“Are we under attack!?”
“Prepare for battle!”
“...!”
The sudden commotion set the Marines scrambling. Weapons drawn, they surrounded the smoke-filled impact zone, eyes sharp and cautious as they approached.
But the sight that emerged stunned them into silence.
“Commodore Darren!?”
Darren lay in the pit, pale-faced, a shocking wound torn across his chest, blood gushing out and staining his uniform deep red.
“—Tch!!”
Such a brutal injury!
Gasps swept through the Marines.
Panic immediately followed on deck.
“Doctor!! Get the doctor, now!!”
…
“Ugh…”
Darren groaned back into consciousness, his whole body wracked with pain.
“Giant swordsmanship… That crazy hag really didn’t hold back.”
Grimacing, he rubbed his forehead and slowly opened his eyes.
A circle of Marines had gathered around him. At the front stood Sengoku, eyes filled with concern.
“...Admiral Sengoku.”
Relief washed over Sengoku the moment he saw Darren was alive. Then, frowning, he barked:
“Oi oi, you damn brat... What’s with that grumpy face?”
“That how you greet your old man?”
Darren felt around, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He lit one, stuck it between his lips, and managed a weary smirk.
“I was hoping to wake up to a sexy nurse…”
He took a slow drag, eyes dropping to his chest.
His uniform had been opened; the wound crudely treated and wrapped in bloodstained bandages.
At his words, Sengoku’s eyelid twitched.
Hold it in… You must hold it in… The brat just pulled off a major victory.
Sengoku took a deep breath, forcing a strained smile.
“What the hell happened to you?”
He was well aware of the strength of Charlotte Daifuku and Charlotte Perospero—perhaps slightly above Marine Vice Admirals, but clearly no match for Darren.
Besides, he’d personally left them in critical condition.
“Don’t tell me... you ran into Big Mom?”
Sengoku’s gaze sharpened, eyeing Darren’s injuries, suspicion rising.
Darren rolled his eyes.
“Who else but that crazy hag?”
Sengoku’s face froze.
This brat... actually picked a fight with Big Mom!?
Darren ignored Sengoku’s stunned expression and fell into thought.
Big Mom’s strength had exceeded his expectations. He’d underestimated her.
By now, he’d exchanged blows with nearly every infamous pirate in these seas:
Byrnndi World, Roger, Kaido, Whitebeard, Golden Lion, Charlotte Linlin…
From those encounters, Darren could now roughly rank their raw strength.
The weakest was undoubtedly the first he took down—legendary pirate Byrnndi World.
World’s “World Destroyer” title owed much to his More-More Fruit. His base strength wasn't all that impressive.
As for the strongest…
Darren exhaled smoke slowly, eyes narrowing.
That one was harder to judge.
Roger, Whitebeard, and Golden Lion all gave off the same overwhelming pressure—monstrous power that felt near-unstoppable.
Unless Darren himself reached their level of legendary strength, it was impossible to say which of the three was strongest.
And more importantly, battles at that level hinged on countless variables—
Physical condition, climate, mental state, momentary bursts of power…
Any of them could tip the scale.
As for the remaining two—Charlotte Linlin and Kaido—
Darren sighed.
Because of the later Wano arc events, he’d misjudged Big Mom’s strength.
Though both she and Kaido had once served under the Rocks Pirates, their status within the crew had been very different.
Kaido had still been an intern; Charlotte Linlin, already a commanding officer.
And at this point in time—
Kaido was just thirty, still in his youth. His strength was growing, but he hadn't yet reached his Wano-era peak.
But Big Mom was different.
She was 39—at her absolute prime. Whether in swordsmanship, physical might, combat experience, or the sheer intensity of her Conqueror’s Haki, she far outclassed Kaido at this stage.
It was only her deceptively odd appearance that led him astray.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 320: Chapter 222: The World in Uproar
Chapter Text
All he could say was... he was mentally shattered.
Who the hell would’ve thought Big Mom wanted to have a baby with him!?
Darren’s mouth twitched, his face filled with helpless exasperation.
Sengoku, nearby, looked just as distressed. After a long pause, he asked,
“So what exactly happened?”
Darren casually replied,
“I killed Charlotte Perospero and Charlotte Daifuku, and then Big Mom showed up… yeah, had a fight with her.”
Sengoku: “…”
The surrounding Marines collectively gasped, eyes bulging in disbelief.
Commodore Darren… killed Big Mom’s two sons right in front of her!?
“Stop standing around!”
Suddenly, Sengoku stood and barked sternly,
“Increase speed! Return to Marine HQ immediately!”
“There are too many prisoners onboard—get them to Impel Down without delay!”
Startled by his commanding voice, the Marines straightened up and saluted:
“Yes, Admiral Sengoku!”
The battleship’s speed surged, its engines clearly pushed to full power.
Sengoku stood at the prow, staring into the seemingly endless sea. The calm from earlier had completely vanished.
“Staying in the New World…”
He muttered darkly,
“...just doesn’t feel safe anymore.”
…
New World – Unknown Sea
A streak of blue-green flame swooped down from the sky, wings spread wide as Marco the Phoenix landed gracefully atop the colossal Moby Dick, shaped like a white whale.
“It’s Marco!”
“Marco’s back!!”
“Hahaha! Did you get it!?”
“…”
“Diamond” Jozu, “Flower Blade” Vista, and several others walked over grinning, ready to greet Marco.
Dusting soot from his hair, Marco shook his head with a weary sigh.
“I didn’t get the More-More Fruit.”
Meeting Whitebeard’s curious gaze, he added with a hint of lingering dread,
“Both the Big Mom Pirates and Beasts Pirates showed up. King the Wildfire and Charlotte Perospero were there. And besides them… Admiral Sengoku and the Golden Lion were also present.”
The crew fell silent in shock.
“Golden Lion!? That guy’s been off the grid for ages—and he’s back now!?”
“Then again, it is the More-More Fruit…”
“Wait, Marco—don’t tell me it fell into Golden Lion’s hands!?”
“That’d be real bad…”
Everyone broke into chatter.
Sure, Sengoku was strong, but Golden Lion’s unpredictability and powers made him far more dangerous. No one believed the Marines could secure the fruit.
“No…”
Marco shook his head.
As if recalling the terrifying sight of a thousand cannons firing in unison, he swallowed hard and said with difficulty:
“You all remember that Marine Commodore we ran into before?”
The crew blinked.
“You mean the ‘King of the North Blue’?”
“I think his name was… Rogers Darren?”
“The guy who took down Byrnndi World?”
Realization struck them all at once. They turned toward the stern of the ship.
There stood Kozuki Oden, who had been drunk and quietly polishing his blade. Now he rose abruptly, the haze of alcohol gone from his eyes—replaced with sharpness and a burning will to fight.
Marco glanced at him and nodded.
“Yeah. He was there too.”
“He used his Devil Fruit to manipulate all the metal on the island…”
He paused, then delivered a line that struck like thunder.
“—He single-handedly destroyed Golden Lion’s Flying Pirate Fleet.”
Dead silence fell over the Moby Dick’s deck.
The pirates stared at Marco, stunned, disbelief written all over their faces.
“Hey… Marco, you’re not joking… are you?”
“No way…”
“That’s the invincible Flying Fleet we’re talking about…”
“…”
But Marco’s grim, serious expression slowly silenced their doubts.
A sense of indescribable shock… even fear… began to surface deep in their eyes.
An entire fleet—dozens of warships, tens of thousands of men—just… gone?
Kozuki Oden stood frozen, as if struck by lightning.
He knew full well: Golden Lion Shiki was a legendary pirate, a man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Whitebeard.
And yet, even such a titan… had fallen to that Marine?
…
New World – Wano Country
Kuri Region, Military Factory
A massive black pteranodon burst through the clouds, diving down and landing atop a factory roof.
King reverted to human form, knelt on one knee before the demonic figure seated at the building’s edge, and reported in a low voice:
“Kaido-san, the mission failed.”
Kaido didn’t reply right away. He grabbed the sake gourd beside him and began chugging deeply.
Rich liquor spilled down his beard, soaking the ground with its pungent aroma.
“The More-More Fruit… I’m guessing that bastard Shiki got his hands on it?”
With a heavy thud, he slammed the jug down. His eyes gleamed blood-red as he growled:
“That ambitious bastard Shiki… No way he’d pass up that kind of power.”
“It’s fine, Arber. I don’t blame you for this—”
“—The More-More Fruit fell into the Marines’ hands,” King suddenly interrupted.
Silence.
“Impossible!!”
Kaido whipped around, stunned.
King sighed.
“The Marines moved too. Sengoku led the operation himself…”
Kaido growled in disbelief:
“Sengoku’s strong, sure—but there’s no way he could wrest it from Shiki!”
King bowed his head.
“Rogers Darren was there too.”
“He used his Devil Fruit to control all metal on the island… and destroyed Golden Lion’s fleet.”
Kaido froze.
The moment he heard that name, crimson blood vessels began creeping across his eyes.
“That damn Marine brat!!!”
He roared to the heavens, his Conqueror’s Haki exploding in an apocalyptic storm that shook the world.
Under the impact of his fury, slaves and laborers across the military factory collapsed, unconscious from the sheer pressure.
Black-and-red lightning crackled violently through the air.
Kneeling, King gritted his teeth, struggling to withstand the storm.
He knew all too well.
Ever since that last encounter, Kaido had harbored seething hatred for the Marine named Darren. Sometimes, drunk out of his mind, he would rage and scream the name… and take it out on Queen.
“So… the More-More Fruit fell into Darren’s hands?”
Kaido’s voice was guttural, glowing red eyes like those of a demon.
King gave a slow, difficult nod.
Kaido paused—then suddenly drew his giant black kanabo and leapt off the rooftop.
His furious voice echoed across the entire Kuri region.
“QUUUEEEEEN!!! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!!”
What followed were waves of desperate wails and pitiful screams.
…
And so it was.
The “Coin Island Incident” dropped like a bomb into still waters—setting off a tsunami across the seas.
Countless factions, nations, and pirate crews had no choice but to take notice of one name:
Rogers Darren. Marine Commodore.
If they had once dismissed him as a “lucky brat,” now they fully understood his terrifying force—
The King of the North Blue.
A monster of Marine HQ.
A man who single-handedly destroyed Golden Lion’s Flying Pirate Fleet.
All of the living “legendary pirates” in this sea—had suffered humiliating blows at his hands.
The world was in uproar.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 321: Chapter 223: The Figurehead of Justice
Chapter Text
New World — An Unnamed Island
Bonfires crackled, filling the air with the savory aroma of grilled meat and fine liquor.
“Captain, aren’t we worried about letting Bullet run off on his own like that? What if he causes trouble?”
At the question, Roger threw back his head and burst out laughing.
“If he wants to cause trouble, let him! Otherwise he’s on my ship all day pestering me for a fight, hahahahaha!!”
Splash!!
A column of seawater shot skyward as a small, metallic submarine burst through the waves and rammed ashore.
Clank—the hatch opened, and Bullet climbed out.
“Yo, Bullet’s back!!”
“Hahaha! Have fun out there?”
“…”
The crew blinked, then broke into cheerful greetings.
Bullet shook out his hair and snapped irritably:
“Don’t even ask. I went out looking for a proper brawl…”
Curiosity sparked around the circle.
Bullet walked over, snatched a bottle of hard liquor, and ruffled the hair of Shanks and Buggy—both still bratty kids—which earned him twin glares of death. Laughing, he chugged the drink straight down.
Gulping down the last of it, he belched, then began recounting the events of his voyage.
“…So yeah, that bastard Darren hogged all the glory—and then didn’t even give me a fight!”
He tore into a skewer of meat, ripping off a chunk with visible frustration.
But the rest of the Roger Pirates listened in shock.
A fleet of tens of thousands… the Golden Lion’s Flying Pirate Fleet… gone up in flames!?
Especially the kids—Shanks and Buggy—had turned pale.
They still remembered their brief encounter with that Marine named Darren… and the sheer terror he left behind.
…They’d almost died.
“Anyway, that’s what happened,” Bullet muttered, mouth full of meat.
“In the end, all of them—Big Mom, Kaido, and Golden Lion—got played like fools by Darren. I bet they’re spitting blood right now.”
“Well done!!” Roger suddenly threw an arm around Bullet’s shoulder, laughing with gleaming eyes.
“…Captain? Why are you so happy?”
Bullet frowned.
Roger just smiled and shook his head.
“No reason. Just glad you came back safe.”
But inside, he was roaring with glee:
Hahahaha! That smug bastard Shiki got his ass kicked by that Marine brat too!!
---
North Blue — Rubeck Island
“D-Doffy!! Something huge happened!!”
Covered in sticky goo, Trebol stumbled into the Donquixote Family's grand hall, tripping over his robe and landing face-first.
On the floor, he raised a newspaper high above his head, wailing:
“News from Coin Island!!”
“That Darren—no, Godfather Darren—he destroyed Golden Lion’s entire fleet!!”
The words hit like a thunderclap. The Donquixote officers, gathered for a business meeting, froze in shock.
“No way!!”
“That’s Golden Lion Shiki we’re talking about!!”
“He’s no idiot like Byrnndi World!”
“…”
Diamante and the others cried out in disbelief.
“I swear it’s true!!” Trebol stammered, climbing shakily to his feet, trembling with either pain or fear.
Seated on a plush leather sofa, Donquixote Doflamingo went quiet.
A flicker passed behind his sunglasses as he rose slowly and took the paper from Trebol’s hands.
The ink still smelled fresh.
Doflamingo unfolded it slowly, deliberately.
The others, sensing the tension in their Young Master’s mood, barely breathed as they crept closer to peek at the headline.
Then—gasps.
Front Page Headline:
“Monster of Marine HQ,” “King of the North Blue” Rogers Darren destroys the legendary Golden Lion’s invincible Flying Pirate Fleet—alone!!
Subheading:
“Ten Thousand Cannons Roar!! The entire island becomes the arsenal of the ‘Metal King’—Flying Fleet reduced to ash in an instant!”
Beside it was a photograph.
Slightly grainy, unclear—but unmistakable.
The landscape of Coin Island blanketed in massive, black gun barrels spewing flame. And at their center, arms spread wide in savage delight, stood a lone Marine Commodore. Behind him, the bold black kanji for “Justice” flared on his white Marine coat.
Fire and smoke blazed skyward. Above, Golden Lion Shiki’s Flying Fleet exploded midair, falling like a scene from the apocalypse.
Even in the blurred image, they could make out several key figures:
Admiral Sengoku.
Rear Admiral Borsalino, the “Monster” of HQ.
King the Wildfire of the Beasts Pirates.
Charlotte Perospero and Charlotte Daifuku of Big Mom’s crew.
And the “Demon Heir” Douglas Bullet of the Roger Pirates…
Each and every one of them captured in frame—stunned, horrified, overwhelmed—mere backdrops to that singular figure in the middle: Commodore Darren.
It was a photo destined for history.
Beneath it, the article spread in sprawling columns.
From the chaos of the underground auction, to the appearance of the More-More Fruit, to the fierce contest for it, Shiki’s dramatic arrival, Darren’s destruction of the fleet—every moment was documented in painstaking detail.
The more they read, the colder their sweat.
Then came the final paragraph—chilling them to the core:
“Marine HQ Commodore Rogers Darren, born in North Blue, possesses overwhelming strength and sharp political acumen. Whether in governance or strategy, he displays a maturity far beyond his years, earning him the rightful title of ‘King of the North Blue.’
Though technically not yet graduated from Marine HQ’s Elite Officer Training Camp, his strength already rivals that of other ‘monsters.’
‘World Destroyer’ Byrnndi World fell before him. Rumor has it that even the likes of Gol D. Roger, Whitebeard Edward Newgate, Kaido of the Beasts, and Big Mom Charlotte Linlin have suffered defeats at his hands.
There is no doubt—Rogers Darren’s rise marks a decisive turning point in Marine power.
And in the near future, he will become… the figurehead of the world’s force of Justice.”
—World Economy News Paper, President: Morgans
---
To be continued...
Chapter 322: Chapter 224: Survivor of God Valley
Chapter Text
South Blue — Sorbet Kingdom
The sky was shrouded in gray as snowflakes drifted down, blanketing the world in pure white.
Atop the royal castle of the Sorbet Kingdom, a towering figure sat on the edge of the parapet, legs dangling freely.
He wore a strange trapezoidal hat dotted with bear-like ears. Black woolen curls spilled from beneath the brim. A dark coat hung over his broad frame.
Expressionless, serious beyond his years, he looked no older than twenty, yet carried an air of unusual calm and gravity.
Snowflakes settled on his hat and shoulders, but he remained motionless, fully absorbed in the thick, leather-bound book in his hands.
Beside him lay a folded newspaper.
The world was utterly silent—save for the occasional sound of turning pages.
“Didn’t expect the king of Sorbet to be so young.”
A low, amused voice suddenly sounded from behind.
The man’s hand paused.
Adjusting his rimless glasses, he quietly closed the book and turned slowly.
The air above the castle twisted strangely—tiny whirlwinds formed, gathering into a tall figure cloaked in a dark green hooded coat, exuding deep, overwhelming Haki.
“Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty, King of Sorbet—Bartholomew Kuma.”
The man removed his hood, revealing a square-jawed face brimming with steely resolve.
No eyebrows. Crimson tattoos slashed across the left side of his face, a stark contrast against the snowstorm.
“I know who you are.”
Bartholomew Kuma spoke in a hoarse voice, eyes calmly meeting the intruder’s.
“The ‘Son of the Hero,’ Monkey D. Dragon.”
Dragon gave a faint smile.
“Not much of a ‘hero’s son’ anymore,” he said, tapping the scar across his face.
“Just a world-class criminal now—one with a bounty sky-high from the World Government and Marine HQ.”
Kuma pressed his lips together.
“So, Mr. Dragon… why have you come?”
“Sorbet Kingdom has only just regained peace and stability. For someone like you to arrive here, uninvited… it puts me in a very difficult position.”
Dragon gave a slight bow.
“Please forgive my intrusion.”
He glanced at the book Kuma had been reading—the word Bible embossed on the cover.
Suddenly, he asked,
“Do you believe in gods, Kuma?”
Kuma’s face didn’t change.
“In this sea, the gods sit high above the clouds… Isn’t that something you know all too well, Mr. Dragon?”
Silence fell.
Kuma set the book aside.
“State your purpose. And then leave. If the government learns you're in the Sorbet Kingdom, this nation will never know peace again.”
Dragon studied him quietly, then smiled.
“Kuma, I came to ask you to join me... to help change this world.”
Kuma’s expression remained unmoved.
He slowly removed his gloves, revealing a hand shaped like a bear’s paw.
Pink paw pads sat in the center.
Yet that deceptively “cute” hand made Dragon’s pupils contract.
Kuma spoke softly.
“I’m sorry. I refuse.”
“Mr. Dragon, it’s time for you to go.”
“If you’re traveling—where do you want to go? Perhaps I can send you.”
Dragon frowned.
“You’re not even going to hear me out?”
Kuma shook his head.
“No need. I only want to protect the people of this kingdom. Everything else... is not my concern.”
His gaze drifted toward the distance. A softness flickered behind his eyes.
Beyond the snowy rooftops, smoke rose from chimneys. Peace. Quiet. A home for many.
“I see...”
Dragon let out a long breath and laughed.
Then, seemingly unrelatedly, he spoke:
“Half a month ago, a slave ship en route to Mary Geoise was sunk. All the slaves vanished. Every guard was killed.”
“Two months ago, a slave market in South Blue’s Locke Port was destroyed. Over 500 slaves disappeared.”
“Five months ago, a slave-trading magnate was assassinated. His entire human-trafficking fleet was wiped out the same day…”
He looked directly at Kuma, smile deepening.
“There are many more stories like these. Would you like me to continue?”
Kuma was silent for a while, then said in a low voice:
“You’ve done your homework, I see.”
Dragon gave another respectful bow.
“If I’ve overstepped, I apologize.”
He raised his head, locking eyes with the man who looked like a giant bear.
“But Kuma, the reason I came to you... is because I know you and I are the same.”
“This world is rotten—drenched in filth and darkness. Only through revolution can we bring true change.”
He glanced at Kuma’s paw.
“If I’m right… those hands of yours—they’re hands of liberation, aren’t they?”
For the first time, Kuma’s expression shifted.
Even when Dragon had revealed his underground acts of resistance, he hadn’t reacted.
But now—his eyes narrowed sharply.
“What do you know?”
Suspicion flared in his voice.
Dragon sighed.
“Not enough. My old man tried to protect me too well… tried to keep me from seeing the world’s horrors.”
“But he never understood—some truths cannot be hidden forever.”
He looked up at the clouds, expression hard, voice bitter.
“Who would’ve thought... the greatest devils of this world aren’t in hell—they’re in the sky.”
…
Half an hour later.
Snow still fell.
Kuma and Dragon now sat side by side, gazing out over the silent Sorbet Kingdom.
“I see…”
Dragon exhaled, breath fogging in the icy air. His voice was low, tinged with grief.
“So that’s the truth behind the God Valley Incident...”
“The so-called ‘heroic’ battle was just a bloody genocide…”
His smile twisted with bitterness and disbelief.
“No wonder the old man never wanted to talk about it…”
Nine years ago, the God Valley Incident had not been a heroic stand—but a “hunting game” orchestrated by the Celestial Dragons.
They’d sealed off the island and treated it like a game reserve—slaughtering the native people and captured slaves for sport.
The prizes? Priceless Devil Fruits—including the Mythical Zoan Fish-Fish Fruit, Azure Dragon form.
Big Mom had taken that fruit… and gifted it to Kaido.
And Kuma? He had been one of the slaves. Alongside Ivankov, he had fought to steal one of the prizes—
The Paw-Paw Fruit.
Using its power to repel people across vast distances, Kuma had saved as many slaves as he could… and barely escaped with his life.
Kuma muttered,
“Garp did what he could…”
His gaze fell to his hands, eyes reddening.
“You asked if I believe in gods…”
“I don’t.”
“I pray because—”
“Guilt,” Dragon finished for him.
“Yes.”
Kuma’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“If there really is a god… even if I can save just one more person… I’ll consider that enough.”
“But… I couldn’t save them all.”
His face was full of sorrow.
Such a gentle soul, Dragon thought, fists clenching as he looked at Kuma’s impassive expression.
“Kuma, there are no gods. No saviors.”
“Even the Celestial Dragons, who claim to be gods—their blood is the same as ours.”
“If we want to save the world… we have to do it ourselves.”
“Join me. Let’s save it—together.”
He held out his hand.
His gaze was firm. Honest.
Kuma looked at the man in front of him.
Images surged in his mind.
Blood. Screams. Slaughter. Celestial Dragons’ twisted laughter…
He took a deep breath.
And reached out.
Their hands clasped.
A vow—silent, yet greater than any word.
…
“So where to next?”
Kuma’s voice was quiet.
Dragon thought for a moment.
“We need allies. People we trust. Since Ivankov is your friend, we should visit him first.”
Kuma nodded.
Sorbet Kingdom was small. Its government light. The administration could be left to capable officials.
“I know where he is.”
Dragon nodded back with a smile.
His eyes wandered to the newspaper on the ground. He paused—then widened his eyes.
“…Well then.”
He let out a stunned breath, chuckling softly.
“Not bad, Darren… Looks like I’ll have to pick up the pace, or you’ll leave me in the dust.”
Kuma gave him a curious look.
“You know this Commodore Darren?”
Dragon turned away from the page, a warm smile spreading across his face.
“He’s my…”
His fist clenched.
“…closest friend.”
---
To be continued...
Chapter 323: Chapter 225: Just a Few Words
Chapter Text
Two days later.
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The vast elliptical military harbor was packed with a dense crowd.
As far as the eye could see, heads swayed among the masses—hundreds, even thousands of civilians stared expectantly toward the sea, holding flowers and balloons, craning their necks.
Among the crowd were reporters from various global news agencies and newspapers, armed with long and short lenses, awaiting eagerly.
Marines in uniform stood in disciplined formation, doing their best to maintain order on the scene.
“When will the battleship arrive?”
“Should be soon…”
“This really is a glorious victory…”
“They annihilated the legendary pirate Golden Lion Shiki’s invincible fleet…”
“It’s just too exciting!!”
“Big news! Big news!!”
Buzzing with excitement, the civilians and reporters, upon learning the battleship was about to return, had flocked to Marineford’s harbor early to prepare this grand welcoming ceremony.
Toward the back of the crowd—
“Old man Kong… isn’t this a bit much?”
With a cigar in his mouth, Zephyr glanced helplessly at the surging crowd and eager reporters, then at the cross-armed Steel Bone Kong beside him.
Indeed, destroying Shiki’s airborne fleet was a resounding victory… but wasn’t this welcome a little over the top?
He could let the civilians’ enthusiasm slide, but this many reporters?
There was no doubt—it was Kong’s doing.
Otherwise, with the Marine’s strict secrecy protocols, there’s no way the public could’ve known the exact time of the fleet’s return.
Kong chuckled.
“Zephyr, it’s been a long time since the Marines had a win like this. A little publicity won’t hurt.”
Zephyr fell silent, as if remembering something.
Such a decisive victory against evil pirates—nothing like this had happened since the God Valley Incident nine years ago.
That was Garp’s famed “hero’s battle.”
Yet as a former Admiral, Zephyr hadn’t participated directly, but he had always sensed something was off about that war.
Even now, whenever he asked Garp about the details, the latter would dodge, avoid, or fall into a strange silence.
If that war had truly been a noble act of defense, would Garp have held back from bragging?
The truth: the supposed victory was never publicly celebrated. All records of the event had been erased—completely scrubbed clean.
Even Zephyr, once an Admiral, had no clearance to access the God Valley archives.
From that, he had already guessed enough.
Sensing Zephyr’s heavy thoughts, Kong patted his shoulder, changing the topic:
“So? Proud?”
“Darren’s your student, after all.”
Zephyr blinked, snapped out of his thoughts, then smiled.
“That brat never fails to surprise…”
As he spoke, he noticed among the crowd many finely dressed women and young girls—eyes turned into heart shapes—causing his lips to twitch slightly.
“Well… at least in battle, he never disappoints.”
Kong laughed.
“No matter what, Darren truly is the most dazzling Marine of this era.”
Zephyr nodded, turning his gaze to the group of training cadets behind him.
Aside from the grumbling Garp, all wore eager expressions—Kuzan in particular was punching the air, eyes shining with excitement.
A proud smile quietly crept onto Zephyr’s weathered face.
Before he could speak, a voice rang out in the crowd—
“The battleship!!”
“They’re back!!”
“They’ve returned!!”
The murmuring ceased. All eyes turned toward the distant sea.
Under the expansive sky, white seagulls soared.
And on the impossibly blue ocean, a majestic Marine battleship appeared on the horizon—cutting through roaring waves with victorious might, sailing steadily toward headquarters.
Its white sails bulged in the wind, the black, fearsome characters “正義” (Justice) emblazoned upon them, exuding an unmatched aura.
At the ship’s prow stood a tall, imposing figure, arms folded, white Marine coat billowing behind him.
“They’re here!”
“That’s Admiral Sengoku’s flagship!!”
The crowd erupted.
No longer able to contain their excitement, civilians and reporters lifted their flowers and balloons skyward.
Meanwhile—
On the ship.
“Eh? Why is the harbor so lively?”
Standing at the prow, Sengoku squinted at the crowd, puzzled.
“Looks like they’re welcoming us…” Borsalino strolled over, rubbing his stubbled chin with a sly smile.
Sengoku frowned.
“Is that really necessary?”
Borsalino feigned earnestness:
“Why not? This was a historic victory. The crowd’s probably cheering your name right now…”
“Really?”
A flicker of pride crossed Sengoku’s eyes. He tried to keep a straight face, but his heart swelled with joy.
“This victory… really should be credited to that brat Darren,” he said modestly.
“How could that be?” Borsalino shook his head, feigning seriousness.
“Without Admiral Sengoku’s leadership, Commodore Darren couldn’t have succeeded. Besides, it was your presence that deterred Shiki. Without that, we’d all be dead…”
Sengoku blinked, then slowly smiled.
“Hmm, Borsalino… you’re absolutely right.”
“Indeed, if Shiki hadn’t feared me, he wouldn’t have held back against Darren… yes, that must be it…”
The more he thought about it, the more Sengoku agreed with Borsalino’s flattery. He puffed out his chest with pride.
Looking at Borsalino approvingly, he grinned:
“As expected of my adjutant. You see things clearly… I’ve always thought highly of you.”
Borsalino smiled faintly.
“Where is Darren?” Sengoku asked, glancing around.
“He’s still resting,” Borsalino replied.
Sengoku considered, then said:
“Go wake him up. Tell him to prepare.”
He squinted toward the bustling harbor.
“There seem to be quite a few reporters. If he doesn’t show up, it won’t look good.”
“Understood.” Borsalino turned toward the cabin.
Suddenly remembering something, Sengoku called to a nearby aide:
“Bring me a mirror!”
Since he might be interviewed soon, he had to look presentable.
After all, he’d been at sea for days. With limited resources, at least a tidy appearance was necessary.
“Yes, Admiral Sengoku!”
Soon, a military-grade grooming mirror was brought over.
Sengoku adjusted his tie, smoothed his uniform, patted down his wild afro, and finally smiled with satisfaction.
Excellent. Very sharp.
Let the cheers and interviews come!
He clenched his fist, glowing with anticipation and confidence.
He could already picture tomorrow’s newspaper: himself surrounded by a cheering crowd, reporters rushing to interview him.
As the battleship neared the harbor, Sengoku stood straighter than ever.
Meanwhile, Darren emerged from the cabin behind Borsalino, yawning, half-asleep.
The ship hadn’t even docked—
But already the cheers exploded like thunder.
“They’re back!!”
“Welcome!!”
“Our hero!!”
Sengoku stepped off the ship with poised dignity, maintaining what he thought was an elegant smile.
Raising both hands, he began,
“No need to rush, everyone—I’ll just say a few wo—”
Before he could finish, his smile froze.
The reporters and civilians surged past him without a glance—ignoring his prepared speech—and swarmed the groggy Darren, burying him in a wall of excitement.
“Commodore Darren!! I love you!!”
“Marry me, Darren!!”
“You’re so handsome, Commodore!!”
"Commodore, is it true you completed the mission alone, and the others didn’t really matter?”
“Commodore Darren, what’s your plan for the future?”
“Please say a few words for the people!!”
“….” Sengoku stood frozen, face as dark as soot.
His hair, face, and uniform were dusted with debris stirred up by the stampede.
“What a shame… You even prepared a speech.”
A lazy voice rang beside him.
Borsalino sighed dramatically with mock pity.
Sengoku’s face twitched, emotions flickering wildly.
He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly.
Veins bulged on his forehead. He was grinding his molars so hard they nearly shattered.
…Damn you, Borsalino!!!
---
To be continued…
Chapter 324: Chapter 226: A Press Conference?
Chapter Text
Just as Sengoku was gritting his teeth, silently cursing, and wondering how he could remove that damned Borsalino from his position as adjutant, a timid voice suddenly called out behind him.
“Um… Admiral Sengoku, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright?”
Sengoku froze for a moment, then his expression lit up instantly.
So there were still some who understood the true value of things!
He quickly wiped the smile from his face, turned with a calm expression.
In front of him stood a young female reporter in professional attire, glasses perched on her nose, holding a notebook and camera. She looked up at him expectantly.
Must be a rookie… Sengoku thought as he softened his expression and smiled gently.
“Of course, no problem. What would you like to ask? As long as it doesn’t involve classified military information, I’d be happy to share…”
He paused and gave her a wink.
“…Exclusive intel.”
The reporter’s eyes sparkled with surprise and joy.
“Really? That’s amazing, Admiral Sengoku!”
Sengoku chuckled.
“Of course. So what area do you want to report on? The details of the operation? My strategic planning? Or perhaps my thoughts on the future of the Grand Line?”
The reporter eagerly flipped open her notebook.
“What I’d like to ask is…”
She hesitated, then added shyly:
“Do you know what Commodore Darren’s type is in a partner?”
Sengoku: “…”
The smile froze on his face.
“…Which publication are you with?”
He tried to keep smiling as he asked.
The reporter blinked, then grinned.
“Entertainment Gossip Weekly.”
Sengoku: “…”
His mouth twitched. A dark aura seemed to hang over his head.
“If you want to ask about Commodore Darren’s preferences, I suggest you speak to him directly.”
The reporter blushed and pointed to where the young commodore was surrounded by a sea of fans and journalists.
“There are too many people around him… I couldn’t get through.”
Sengoku: “…”
The reporter added quickly:
“You didn’t have a crowd, so I came straight to you. I was worried I might miss the chance later.”
Sengoku: “…”
He rubbed his chest, deadpan.
“You must be an intern, aren’t you?”
The reporter gasped.
“How did you know!?”
She stared at him in awe.
“Your insight is amazing, Admiral Sengoku!”
Sengoku: “…”
Well of course it is.
Sengoku suddenly felt exhausted.
He sighed, waving his hand.
“I don’t know Darren’s type. Try asking him again later.”
He turned and walked off with a weary air, heading toward Steel Bone Kong.
…
To deal with the growing number of journalists, a long table covered in red cloth was quickly set up.
A makeshift press conference was arranged.
The core figures of the operation took their seats from left to right:
Admiral Sengoku, Commodore Darren, and Rear Admiral Borsalino.
Click! Click!
The moment they sat, the cameras exploded with flashes as reporters feverishly snapped photos.
“Let’s get started,” Kong said casually from below the stage.
In an instant, every reporter raised a hand.
All their eyes landed on the yawning young commodore. Sengoku and Borsalino might as well have been invisible.
Sengoku: “…”
“Darren, you take this one,” he said sourly.
Darren blinked, then casually picked one reporter from the crowd.
The chosen reporter stood with burning eyes.
“Commodore Darren, it’s reported that the Marine used significant funds to participate in the auction during this mission. Is that true?”
Darren smiled and nodded.
“Yes. All of it was for the sake of the operation. Our real target was Golden Lion Shiki, so we had to remain undercover until he showed himself.”
“As for the funds—well, we owe that to headquarters’ support.”
Sengoku: ???
He stared at Darren in confusion. Darren simply smiled back.
Below the stage, Kong’s smile froze, a vein pulsing on his forehead.
Zephyr grabbed his arm, face flushing.
“Easy, old man! There’s a crowd watching…”
Kong clenched his teeth.
Darren picked another reporter.
“Commodore Darren, not only did the Marine destroy the Golden Lion’s fleet, but reportedly you also secured the powerful More-More Fruit. Can you reveal anything about how it will be used?”
Darren chuckled.
“This was a victory for the Marine as a whole. The More-More Fruit is a valuable prize.”
“After much consideration from Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku, they entrusted me with full discretion over its use. I’m very grateful for their trust.”
Sengoku: ???
Kong: ???
“Calm down, old man, please!” Zephyr pleaded, holding Kong back.
“I haven’t even decided what to do with that damn fruit!! Let go of me, Zephyr!!” Kong roared.
Zephyr was drenched in sweat.
“Come on, the More-More Fruit used to belong to Byrnndi World. Darren defeated him and played a key role in this mission—it makes sense.”
“And what about the auction funds!? Nearly a billion berries! He bought all that stuff and wants HQ to reimburse him!?” Kong growled.
Zephyr coughed.
“Consider it a reward… maybe?”
Kong: …
“You just can’t stop coddling your student!!”
Zephyr grinned guiltily.
Just then, the same female reporter from earlier stood up.
“Commodore Darren, if I may… many are curious to know—what’s your type in a partner?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Faces flushed, especially among the young women.
Darren paused, smiled, and winked.
“I’m afraid that’s classified Marine information. No comment.”
Sengoku: …
Kong: …
Zephyr: …
As more reporters kept their hands raised, Darren held up a hand.
“Apologies. That’s all from me.”
He pointed to the bandages on his chest.
“As you can see, I’m still injured and need rest. I’ll leave the rest of the questions to Admiral Sengoku.”
Darren rose and looked sincerely at Sengoku.
“While it may seem like I got the glory by destroying the flying fleet… the real hero of this mission is Admiral Sengoku!”
“Without his protection, planning, authority, and trust—none of this would’ve been possible.”
“He is the true cornerstone of this success.”
“So let’s all give a big round of applause to Admiral Sengoku!”
He started clapping first.
The reporters followed suit with thunderous applause.
Sengoku stood dumbfounded, then slowly smiled.
He shot Darren a grateful look, straightened up, and cleared his throat.
With a confident smile, he declared:
“Well then, I’ll say a few words…”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 325: Chapter 227: Merit Allocation
Chapter Text
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
In the Fleet Admiral’s Office.
“Gulp gulp...”
Sengoku took the hot tea handed to him by the attendant. Despite the steam still curling from the cup, he downed it in a few swigs and handed the empty cup back.
“Another one for me.”
Everyone else in the room stared at him in stunned silence.
Seeing their gazes, Sengoku chuckled awkwardly.
“Bit thirsty. Aren’t you all?”
Everyone: “……”
You talked for three straight hours, not even pausing for a break—of course you’re thirsty, you damn old man!
Kong massaged his temples in exasperation.
At first, Sengoku had stuck to the topic, elaborating thoroughly on the “Coin Island Operation,” showcasing Marine strategy and strength.
But after ten minutes… the old man completely lost control.
He veered off into nostalgic tales of his early days as a Marine, the hardships he endured to rise through the ranks, the grand vision for the future of the Marines...
It became less of a press briefing and more of a personal TED Talk. Half the audience had left; the rest were fighting to stay awake.
Kong shot Sengoku a sideways glare, then turned to the man sitting cross-legged on the couch—Commodore Darren—his expression softening.
“You did damn well this time, kid.”
Lighting a gold-trimmed cigar, Kong beamed.
“Honestly, not even I expected you to pull this off.”
It was all too smooth!
The Flying Pirate Fleet that had plagued Marine HQ for years—utterly destroyed, just like that!
If the results weren’t staring him in the face, Kong himself wouldn’t have believed it.
Darren, puffing on his own cigar, smiled modestly.
“All credit goes to Admiral Sengoku’s unwavering support and trust. Without that, I never would've had the chance.”
Kong snorted.
“Save the politics for the press, kid!”
Then he turned sharply to Sengoku.
“And you!”
He jabbed a finger in Sengoku’s direction.
“You damn old goat! What the hell were you doing!? That press conference turned into your personal memoir hour!”
“Look at your contribution in this mission! Other than scaring Shiki a little, what did you actually do? If you’d done your job better, Darren wouldn’t have been hurt so badly!”
He tore into Sengoku without mercy, leaving the latter shrinking in his seat.
“Did you hear what the reporters were asking? It’s like you weren’t even there!”
“I—” Sengoku’s face flushed, but he couldn’t muster a defense.
He felt thoroughly wronged.
He was never built for speed or bursts of power—against a nimble opponent like Shiki, it was a miracle he managed to slow him down at all!
If it had been a direct clash, he wouldn’t have lost!
But that damn Shiki kept chasing Darren—what was he supposed to do!?
Even if Garp had been there, it wouldn't have changed much!
Grumbling, Sengoku muttered in protest.
“His injuries aren’t even that serious. Just a couple of near-fatal wounds. With his monster physique, he’ll be bouncing around in no time…”
“What did you say!?” Kong’s voice shot up.
Sengoku jolted upright, expression snapping to attention.
“I mean, yes, Fleet Admiral, sir! It was absolutely my failure!”
Kong couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Sengoku pretend to behave.
Classic Sengoku—flexible, one might say. Slippery, to be more accurate.
If it had been Zephyr in the hot seat, that stubborn mule would've argued back for hours.
Thinking about Zephyr cooped up in the training camp gave Kong another headache.
“Brats, all of them…” he muttered.
Shaking off the irritation, Kong straightened and grew serious.
“I’ve read the full report. You all performed well.”
“Now, about the official commendations—no doubt about it—Commodore Darren, the greatest merit belongs to you.”
He smiled.
“You’ll be promoted. That’s a certainty.”
Darren nodded with a quiet smile.
He could’ve been promoted to Rear Admiral six months ago, but the incident with Dragon had put it on hold.
He’d never cared that much about the title… but still, no one minds climbing the ranks.
At least now, he’d finally catch up with Sakazuki and Borsalino.
No more saluting them.
But just as he was savoring the moment—
“Borsalino, you did well too. You heavily injured King the Wildfire, and during the battle on Coin Island, you repeatedly intercepted Shiki.”
Kong turned to the man sitting idly beside him.
“Congratulations, Vice Admiral Borsalino.”
Borsalino blinked in mock surprise, raising both hands.
“Well, now that’s unexpected... Don’t you think, Rear Admiral Darren?”
He flashed a sly grin at Darren.
Darren: “……”
If it’s unexpected, keep it to yourself. Why are you dragging me into this!?
That bastard definitely did that on purpose!
“Yes, Vice Admiral Borsalino,” Darren replied through gritted teeth.
Still… the promotion was well-earned.
Despite all his laziness and slick moves, Borsalino always showed up when it mattered, using his Devil Fruit powers to make just enough of an impact to be noticed—yet never too much.
Nobody could say he wasn’t pulling his weight.
But deep down, you always felt… did he even need to be there?
It was an art. And he’d mastered it.
He'd climbed the ranks with this quiet cunning—always just enough, never too much. Among the original three candidates for admiral, he had the most seniority. So it was only natural that he’d be promoted before Sakazuki and Kuzan.
Kong looked at the two exchanging snide jabs and smiled.
Ah… youth.
He remembered when Garp, Sengoku, and Zephyr were just like this. Fighting, bickering, sniping at each other—and then suddenly, years had passed, and they were legends.
Now, under their shadow, a new generation was blooming.
It was one of Kong’s few moments of peace as Fleet Admiral.
“And as for the More-More Fruit…”
He glanced at Darren, who immediately sat up straight. Sengoku also perked up.
The value of the More-More Fruit was undeniable. Whoever controlled its fate could use it for great strategic advantage.
As a reward. As a bargaining chip. As a legacy.
“Just as we said during the press conference—Darren will handle its disposition.”
Kong’s voice was calm and decisive.
“This meeting is adjourned. I’ll leave the rest to the graduation ceremony next month.”
“Dismissed.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 326: Chapter 228: Use Titles While on Duty
Chapter Text
After Darren and Borsalino left the Fleet Admiral’s office, Sengoku remained rooted to the spot, a look of hesitation flickering across his face.
“Say what you want to say.”
Kong shot him a sidelong glance, his tone irritable.
Unable to hold back any longer, Sengoku blurted out,
“Old man Kong, are we really handing over the More-More Fruit to Darren just like that?”
Kong raised an eyebrow, pondered for a few seconds, then said,
“Sengoku, I know what you mean.”
A thin stream of smoke curled from his lips as his aged eyes gleamed with wisdom.
“The More-More Fruit is indeed a power that cannot be underestimated. But that’s all it is.”
“In comparison to the uncertainties of the fruit, what Darren demonstrated in this mission — his strength and potential — is concrete, right before our eyes.”
“If he hadn’t joined the battle, it’s doubtful you all could’ve seized the More-More Fruit, let alone annihilate Golden Lion’s Flying Pirate Fleet.”
“And besides, now that Darren has spoken up, even if I were to use my authority to forcibly reclaim the fruit from him, he may not say anything outright, but he’d surely bear a grudge.”
“You know that kid’s personality… If we don’t let him handle the More-More Fruit this time, he might just find all sorts of excuses to avoid the next mission.”
Sengoku paused at those words.
He seriously considered Darren’s personality — and realized Kong’s assessment was right on point.
That kid holds grudges and is crystal clear about love and hate.
He’s the type who, if you treat him well, will never shortchange you.
But if you cross him, he’ll return the favor twice as hard.
With that perspective, the choice became clear.
A powerful Devil Fruit, or a monstrous talent whose strength and potential reign over this entire era?
Sengoku could weigh the value of each.
“Sengoku, no need to worry… The fruit may be entrusted to Darren, but who can he possibly give it to?”
Kong suddenly chuckled, eyes exuding a calm, domineering confidence.
It was the look of someone who controlled everything.
“In the end, that fruit will still land within the Marine.”
“As for who receives it — it doesn’t really matter.”
“As long as that person is a Marine, that’s enough.”
Upon hearing these words, Sengoku fell silent for a long time. Then, with newfound respect, he raised his hand and saluted.
“I understand, old man Kong.”
“It was my vision that was too narrow.”
Kong nodded, then frowned.
“How many times must I say this — use titles when on duty!”
Sengoku stiffened and saluted formally.
“Yes, Fleet Admiral Kong!”
…
Outside the Fleet Admiral’s office, Darren and Borsalino were casually chatting.
“So, who do you plan to give the More-More Fruit to?”
Borsalino asked offhandedly, as if it were a passing thought.
Darren chuckled.
“Who knows? There’s no rush.”
If developed properly, the More-More Fruit’s power would be terrifying.
But for now, Darren had no suitable candidate in mind.
That young man named Arthur had left a good impression. Even when faced with powerful pirates like Charlotte Perospero and Charlotte Daifuku, he had resolutely shouldered his responsibilities.
Darren appreciated that.
That was also why he wanted to bring Arthur over from Sengoku.
People who fear death aren’t qualified to be his subordinates.
But determination and courage alone were far from enough.
In this vast sea, without exceptional talent, no amount of hard work is worth investing in.
Such is the cruel reality.
That idealistic nonsense about “friendship bonds” being able to blast villains into the sky might work in anime, but Darren had never encountered such a thing.
And frankly, given his personality, even if he witnessed it firsthand, he wouldn’t be impressed.
Whether that young man Arthur was truly worth nurturing — that still required time to observe.
Borsalino glanced at Darren, then changed the subject.
“Lately, the North Blue Fleet has been purchasing a lot of laser weapons from the Science Division.”
He gave Darren a sly, almost amused look.
“Seems like their military budget has seen a nice boost…”
Darren replied with a flawless smile.
“I heard from Supreme Commander Momonga that the North Blue’s economy has been doing quite well lately.”
Borsalino’s grin widened.
“Is that so? Well, that certainly calls for celebration…”
As they approached the entrance of the training camp, he stretched with a huge yawn.
“Well then, I’ll be heading back. The Science Division has made some major breakthroughs recently. If Commodore — no, if Rear Admiral Darren is interested, you should stop by sometime.”
Darren nodded and smiled.
“Of course I’m interested. I’ll make time to visit, Vice Admiral Borsalino.”
Borsalino gave a small smile. His body disintegrated into countless particles of light and vanished on the spot.
“What a cunning man… What are you really up to, Borsalino?”
Darren stood there, muttering under his breath.
“Darren!!”
At that moment, a loud, spirited voice rang out from the direction of the training camp gate.
Darren looked up and saw Kuzan and the others walking over with broad smiles.
“What are you all doing here?”
Kuzan and the others flashed forward, fists clenched, their faces full of excitement.
“We’re here to welcome you back, of course!”
“Can’t believe you actually destroyed Golden Lion’s fleet — that’s insanely cool!!”
Yamakaji asked eagerly, “So was Golden Lion Shiki really that strong?”
Doberman gave Darren a hearty punch in the chest and laughed loudly. “Welcome back.”
Onigumo kept his usual cold demeanor, voice hoarse. “I really want to fight you again — see just how strong you’ve gotten.”
The others swarmed around Darren with enthusiasm, peppering him with questions.
They weren’t part of Marine Headquarters’ inner circle, so they hadn’t seen the battle reports. All they could do was piece together information from newspapers and rumors about the Coin Island incident.
Looking at those familiar faces, Darren felt a rare sense of ease and responded to their questions one by one, smiling.
At the back of the group, Tokikake watched the scene with a sour expression, curled his lips, and muttered,
“Tch, so what if he destroyed a few dozen ships… It’s not like he actually killed Golden Lion.”
He grit his teeth, remembering the end of the press conference — when countless ladies and young women sent Darren flirtatious glances.
Just then, a cold voice suddenly rang out.
“Rear Admiral Darren.”
Everyone fell silent. Darren turned toward the voice and saw a tall, expressionless figure standing at the entrance of the training camp.
“Commander Gion,” Darren greeted with a smile.
Gion replied flatly,
“Can you come with me? I need to speak with you.”
Darren was momentarily taken aback.
“Alright.”
Whoosh — the others immediately parted to create a path.
Tokikake’s eyes sparkled as he watched the scene, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
“Hehehe… Gion’s clearly pissed… That bastard Darren’s about to get it!”
“Beat him up! Just beat him to a pulp! Hehehe…”
…
Half an hour later.
Inside the administrative office of the military academy.
The office was in utter chaos, as if a war had taken place.
A pink cropped top, black hotpants, purple-red stiletto heels…
All kinds of clothing, stationery, and papers were scattered messily across the floor.
Darren sat on a spacious, plush sofa, puffing contentedly on a cigar.
Drenched in fragrant sweat, Gion lay curled up in his arms like a kitten, wearing only his white dress shirt, eyes hazy and unfocused.
“Feeling a bit better now, Commander Gion?”
Darren looked down at the beauty in his embrace, a playful smile curling his lips.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 327: Chapter 229: A Special Gift
Chapter Text
“D-Don’t call me by my title…”
Having her chin lifted so playfully, and hearing herself addressed as “Commander Gion” in that teasing tone — a strange wave of embarrassment surged in Gion’s chest.
“Oh? But this is your personal office here in the training camp. If I don’t use your title… then what should I call you?”
Darren looked down with interest at the mature woman in his arms. Seeing the usually cold and aloof Gion wear such a shy, dazed expression — he couldn’t get enough. A smirk tugged at his lips.
“You know this is my office! You damned bastard!!”
Noticing the mischief in his gaze, Gion retaliated with a fierce bite on Darren’s shoulder — only to find not even a mark left behind, while her own teeth ached slightly.
What a joke. If Steel Body could be undone so easily, that would be far too absurd.
“Exactly because it’s your office that I couldn’t hold back. My bad, my bad.”
Darren chuckled slyly, playing up his usual rogueish charm.
“But you were clearly enjoying it too…”
Gion glared at him.
This lecherous bastard — the moment he stepped inside the office, he locked the door behind him and couldn’t wait to pounce.
What made her feel even more ashamed was… for some reason, maybe because it was the office, she had felt more sensitive than usual.
That constant risk of being discovered… the wicked thrill of it pulsed in her chest. Each of Darren’s touches sent sparks skittering across her skin like electric current — tingling and ticklish.
“Bastard!”
She muttered under her breath, unwilling to admit the truth.
Darren smiled, brushing her sweat-damp hair gently behind her ear, and softly praised:
“You’re so beautiful, Gion.”
Mature elegance, fair cheeks still flushed with lingering heat, red lips exhaling warm breath, weary yet lazy allure, proud personality with a touch of shy contradiction… At this moment, Gion truly exuded a unique charm.
“Hmph!”
Gion scoffed, slapped his hand away with a cold face, and raised her chin high, revealing her slender, snowy neck — like a proud white swan.
But Darren clearly caught the barely-there curl at the corner of her lips.
What a tsundere little lady…
“Haven’t seen me for a while — did you miss me?”
Darren exhaled a stream of smoke, wrapping an arm around her soft waist, voice low and warm.
“No!” Gion huffed, turning her head away.
Darren sighed dramatically, his tone sorrowful.
“That’s too bad. I even brought you a gift…”
“Really?!”
Gion turned toward him in surprise — only to meet his teasing eyes. Her cheeks burned instantly.
Trying to cover her reaction, she stammered,
“I-I wasn’t looking forward to your gift or anything…”
Darren just chuckled. With a sleight of hand, a coin appeared between his fingers.
“A coin?” Gion blinked.
“Not just any coin,” Darren said proudly. “This is one of the spoils from my latest mission — a coin from Coin Island.”
“Be patient.”
As he spoke, faint blue arcs of electricity sparked between his fingers.
A strange sight followed.
In Gion’s widening eyes, the coin began to melt and writhe like a living thing. It stretched, reshaped…
Like strands from a master craftsman’s loom, the liquid metal twisted and folded, weaving and layering until it blossomed into the form of a delicate flower.
In Gion’s eyes, it looked like a soft golden rose, blooming radiantly in the palm of the Marine rear admiral.
As Darren held the coin-rose, he exhaled slowly — unaware that a sheen of cold sweat had formed on his brow.
If not for his recent growth through countless battles, and the progress he’d made in developing his Devil Fruit powers — he wouldn’t have been able to do this half a year ago.
To reshape a single coin into a gold-foil rose — the precision required was unimaginable. Only a user with an extremely high mastery of the Magnetic Overload fruit could achieve such a feat.
“I thought, Coin Island doesn’t have many specialties… so I came up with this idea. From now on, whenever I’m on a mission, I’ll take one coin from each country and craft you a rose like this…”
Before Darren could finish, his lips were smothered by a pair of warm ones.
A passionate kiss.
Only after ten full seconds did they separate.
Darren stared, stunned, at Gion’s misty eyes and reddened cheeks. He smiled.
“So… do you like the gift?”
Gion didn’t dare meet his gaze. Her face crimson, she simply nodded.
Looking at the exquisite golden rose in her hand, her lips involuntarily curved upward.
There were many who pursued her across this vast sea.
Talented heirs of merchant guilds, princes of allied nations, elite Marines, gifted nobles…
And their methods of courtship were just as varied.
More wealth than one could spend in a lifetime, famous blades tailored to her taste, all manner of rare treasures… She’d lost count of the letters and flowers she’d received.
But never before had anyone given her a gift so “cheap” yet so “precious.”
Coins were everywhere on that island — countless, meaningless.
But thinking of how, on that very island, Darren had used those coins to utterly destroy the so-called invincible fleet of Golden Lion Shiki…
That one coin now carried unique meaning.
More importantly — unlike anyone else, Darren had infused his heartfelt intention into that coin with his own hands, using his Devil Fruit ability.
Such a one-of-a-kind gift… how could she not love it?
“So… did you miss me during this time?”
Seeing her flustered reaction, Darren felt an even stronger urge to tease. He grinned.
Gion bit her lip and glared fiercely at him.
Darren burst into laughter, pulling her close again.
A-Again!?
Gion’s eyes widened. Instinctively, she murmured,
“Y-Your injuries…”
“They’re fine,” Darren said dismissively.
“Wait— let go— y-you bastard…”
“But you’re clearly enjoying it too.”
“H-How could I… something like this…”
“Tekkai.”
“Mmm…”
A soft, trembling moan echoed through the empty office.
…
Happy moments always pass quickly.
A full two hours later, Darren finally emerged from Gion’s office, looking thoroughly satisfied.
Now that he had mastered Tekkai for “special applications,” Darren was practically reborn — unstoppable.
As for Gion… tsundere to the core. Even though she clearly enjoyed it, she often put on a proud front.
But that very contrast made the “training” all the more fun.
“Time to head home.”
Darren straightened his collar, smoothed out his disheveled uniform, and marched confidently toward the officers’ residential quarters.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 328: Chapter 230: Return to the North Blue
Chapter Text
Another two hours passed.
The soft light of dusk filtered through the drifting autumn leaves in the courtyard, casting dappled shadows. Dust swirled in the air, rippling like waves.
A wide pink kimono, delicate undergarments, white socks, and a long sash lay scattered across the tatami floor.
“Do you like this gift?”
Darren held the stunning beauty Toki in one arm, while the other hand gradually “shaped” a cherry blossom made of golden foil, his gaze gentle.
“Toki, I know you love cherry blossoms.”
“For this mission — well, Coin Island doesn’t have any real specialties, so I thought of this… I promise you, from now on, every time I’m on assignment, I’ll take one coin from each country and craft you a cherry blossom like this… as a keepsake of our love.”
Toki lay curled in Darren’s arms like a docile kitten, the afterglow still lingering on her blushing cheeks.
She gazed at the exquisite blossom in Darren’s hand, mist rising in her eyes like a shimmering veil, and whispered softly,
“Thank you, my dear husband. I love it.”
With careful hands, she brushed her fingers over the scars — old and new — across Darren’s chest, her tone tender yet full of concern.
“But all I truly want is for you to return safely. That would be the greatest gift of all.”
Darren chuckled, “That won’t be a problem.”
Looking down at the beauty in his arms, he couldn’t help but compare Toki and Gion.
In terms of looks, Toki clearly had the upper hand. After all, she was the woman who, in the original story, gave birth to Hiyori — the most celebrated courtesan in Wano.
But Gion’s body was far more explosive. Years of training had given her a pair of long, toned legs — firm, powerful, and exhilarating.
As for personality, each had her own charm.
Toki made Darren feel at ease — her soft, gentle nature seemed to melt away all burdens and tension.
Gion, on the other hand — so fiery and prideful — was endlessly amusing and provocative. She brought out his desire to conquer.
Thinking of all this, the smile on Darren’s lips deepened.
Isn’t this the life they fought for as Marines?
If life was bitter and dry, then no matter how noble the cause, being a Marine would be far too stifling.
“How long will you stay home this time, my dear?”
Toki traced slow circles on Darren’s chest with her slender fingers, her voice like a caress.
Darren thought for a moment, then smiled.
“Probably won’t be going on missions for a while. Gotta give others a chance to shine.”
“Besides, there’s less than a month until I graduate from the training camp. I still haven’t finished all my cultural course credits…”
“If there’s any mission, it’ll probably be the internship before graduation.”
Training camp included academics too — since it was designed for elite officers, the curriculum was always meant to cultivate future leaders.
Navigation, meteorology, geography, world history, naval tactics — a wide range of subjects.
Although the courses weren’t especially deep, Darren had spent most of the past six months skipping class, choosing instead to train privately with Garp. So now, he needed time to catch up.
As for the field internship — it was a long-standing tradition.
Near graduation, Zephyr, as chief instructor, would lead all the cadets on an actual mission. It served both as hands-on experience and a final exam.
The mission’s content varied every year, depending on current world events. Zephyr himself set the parameters and graded each cadet's performance. There was no way to cheat using past years’ examples.
…
One day later.
North Blue.
Dark clouds churned in the sky, as if night had fallen upon the world.
“Judgment of the Gods!!”
A massive pillar of lightning burst down from the heavens like a roaring dragon, crashing into the center of the island.
For a moment, everything went silent. The blinding white light swallowed all sight.
BOOM!!
A second later —
An earth-shattering thunderclap exploded outward.
The violent blast bloomed in the island’s center. From the impact zone, hurricane-force winds erupted in every direction, uprooting every tree and plant within a kilometer.
Dust surged like waves. Flames flickered endlessly.
No one knew how much time had passed.
At last, the black smoke began to clear. Through the flames, a tall figure stepped out in black military boots.
A flash of blue lightning streaked through the air, gathering into a human form.
Momonga — his body crackling with lightning from the Rumble-Rumble Fruit — looked at the completely unharmed Marine rear admiral before him and sighed.
“You came all the way back to the North Blue just to crush my self-esteem, didn’t you?”
Darren dusted off his clothes.
The ground beneath his feet was pitted and scorched. He smiled.
“I have to check in on your training every now and then. See if you’ve made progress… The Rumble-Rumble Fruit really is as terrifying as they say.”
Momonga: “…”
That was Judgment of the Gods, his full-power attack… and it didn’t even scratch this guy’s skin — and he’s calling it “terrifying”!?
If he could beat this bastard, Momonga would’ve pinned him to the ground and pounded him long ago.
…He was just asking for a beating.
Seeing the twitch in Momonga’s eye, Darren’s mood improved greatly.
He patted the man on the shoulder and smiled.
“I’m serious.”
“Your development of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit has exceeded my expectations.”
Momonga sighed.
“I can’t afford to let you down. Otherwise, it would be a waste of what’s supposed to be the strongest of all Logia Fruits.”
Darren shook his head with a smile.
“I knew you’d pull it off.”
He wasn’t just flattering him.
Momonga’s progress was indeed impressive.
In the original story, he was one of the few elite vice admirals in Marine Headquarters — a pillar of justice in the world. His talent ranked just below the admirals and their candidates.
With such raw talent, plus Darren’s guidance and Momonga’s own relentless effort, he’d managed to develop the Rumble-Rumble Fruit to near the level of Enel in less than half a year.
It was both expected… and surprising.
Clearly, Momonga had an excellent affinity with this fruit.
At this rate, once he further improved his swordsmanship and mastered Haki, it was only a matter of time before he reached admiral candidate level.
As for stepping into full admiral-level combat power… that would depend on fate.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 329: Chapter 231: The Strongest Fleet
Chapter Text
In this vast sea, Admiral-Class combat power stood at the very summit. Only those who truly stepped into this realm could be considered among the “gold-ranked elite.”
It was the threshold between true strength and mere struggle — a line that many spent their whole lives trying to cross, often in vain… while others, monstrous prodigies, strolled through those grand gates with ease.
Momonga already possessed extraordinary potential. And now, with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit Darren had given him, entering that realm was no longer out of reach.
Hearing Darren’s words, Momonga rolled his eyes.
This guy made it sound easy. But only he himself knew just how much time and effort he’d poured into developing the Rumble-Rumble Fruit over the past six months.
What Momonga hadn’t told anyone — was that watching Darren grow stronger by the day had sparked a silent urgency in his heart.
It wasn’t jealousy.
It was fear — fear of being left behind.
What if — however unlikely it might seem — what if one day Darren, this monster of a man, encountered an enemy he couldn’t defeat? Or was trapped in a dire, near-death situation…
What if, at that moment, Darren needed his help — and he was too weak to give it?
Momonga didn’t even want to imagine it.
As if reading his thoughts, Darren clapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling.
“Don’t push yourself so hard. Let things take their natural course.”
“So — how’s the fleet progressing lately?”
At the mention of work, Momonga immediately switched gears. His expression turned serious.
“Not bad. Thanks to the foundation you built, the North Blue is quite stable.”
“As for the Donquixote Family — ever since you had me give Doflamingo that ‘reminder,’ he’s kept quiet. Fleet tax revenue has been steadily increasing overall.”
Darren nodded.
He knew about the ‘reminder’ Momonga gave Doflamingo — and that was exactly why he’d entrusted him with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
“That kid Doffy’s personality is exactly like that — proud, defiant, thinks the world owes him something. Sometimes I really don’t know how to deal with him. When you don’t have a better option, a solid beating is the only language he understands.”
Darren sighed with mock exasperation.
Momonga: “…”
You’ve really embraced this “dad disciplining his bratty son” role, haven’t you?
“…After the mess you stirred up in the New World, I doubt the Donquixote Family will make waves anytime soon.”
“Clicking your tongue, wiping out Golden Lion Shiki’s fleet like that… You really don’t pull punches. I hear Golden Lion’s the kind who never lets a grudge go?”
At the end, there was a note of concern and caution in Momonga’s voice.
Darren, however, smiled indifferently.
“I’m probably staying in HQ for the foreseeable future. What can he do?”
“If he really dares to come to Marineford… I’d love to see it.”
A flash of icy killing intent shimmered in Darren’s eyes. He reached up, lightly touching the chest wound that still throbbed faintly, and let out a cold, defiant laugh.
“That slash he gave me… I remember it perfectly.”
Momonga was silent, then let out a quiet chuckle.
Golden Lion Shiki held grudges?
Maybe.
But Momonga knew all too well — the man in front of him wasn’t some saint either.
Darren was the lunatic who once killed a Celestial Dragon just because he was in a bad mood!
That shocking “Celestial Dragon incident” had happened a year ago. Since then, Momonga had often thought back on what had driven Darren to take such a colossal risk and kill Saint Shaldes.
Was it pity for that civilian father and daughter?
Perhaps.
But knowing Darren’s cold, rational nature — he’d never act out of pity alone.
Was it pride as the “King of the North Blue”? A sense of duty from his “take the money, finish the job” rule?
Maybe.
But Momonga knew — rules, responsibilities, obligations — they meant very little to Darren.
…None of those were the real reason.
The true reason was hidden in what Darren had said to him that day:
> “That guy’s face was so disgusting, it made me want to kill him… and I just couldn’t hold it back.”
He pissed me off. He ruined my mood. So I killed him. Even if he was a Celestial Dragon.
That was Darren’s Justice.
— Desire-Driven Justice.
So what if Golden Lion was gunning for Darren?
Darren was already gunning for him.
Momonga had never seen Darren come off the worse in any confrontation.
“By the way — how’s the laser weapons development going in the fleet?”
Darren suddenly recalled Borsalino’s comment.
A smile appeared on Momonga’s face.
“Very smoothly.”
“Vinsmoke Judge really is one of the top scientists in this sea. He’s successfully deconstructed the energy core of the laser weapons and modified it.”
“With the current level of my Rumble-Rumble Fruit development, each charge takes 3 minutes — and once charged, a laser cannon can fire at least 50 rounds.”
“Over the past six months, the fleet has expanded from 10 ships to 20. And we’re continuing to grow by two ships per month.”
“As of now, the North Blue Fleet consists of 20 primary warships. Each ship is equipped with at least five laser cannons and five conventional heavy guns. We also have 8 supply vessels.”
“Following your blueprint, we estimate that by the second half of the year, the fleet will reach about 25 warships, all fully modernized — officially forming a large-scale naval strike force.”
Darren nodded in satisfaction.
He had great confidence in Momonga’s administrative capabilities — especially when it came to military matters. In fact, Momonga was arguably even more meticulous than he was.
Though Darren had gradually withdrawn from day-to-day fleet operations, he had still, with his modern knowledge and vision, laid out a detailed blueprint for the fleet’s development.
A modern naval force — far beyond this era!
High-grade alloy to replace wooden hulls. High-efficiency energy instead of wind for propulsion. Advanced laser weaponry in place of outdated gunpowder cannons…
Thanks to the modifications by Germa 66, the fleet’s warships had begun to take on the silhouette of true modern battleships.
Every ship — from construction to retrofitting to armaments — cost five times more than a standard Marine warship of similar size.
If not for Darren plundering the treasure of Skypiea’s City of Gold, even draining the North Blue dry wouldn’t have been enough to build such a terrifying fleet.
And this fleet — armed to the teeth — would one day become the strongest force under Darren’s command.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 330: Chapter 232: Sweating Yet?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“By the way, I heard you had a run-in with Big Mom?”
As if suddenly recalling something, Momonga asked curiously.
Darren gave a helpless chuckle.
“Sort of. I killed two of her sons right in front of her.”
Momonga: “…”
“Sort of”…?
With Big Mom’s insane personality, you kill two of her sons and she’ll chase you across the entire sea, life or death!
Wait a minute…
Momonga’s face suddenly turned skeptical as he stared at Darren and asked hesitantly,
“What do you mean by ‘sort of’? Don’t tell me you did something weird?”
As the Supreme Commander of the North Blue — and someone naturally cautious — Momonga was intimately familiar with the bounties of every major pirate in the sea.
Even now, Charlotte Linlin — Big Mom — was nearing forty and still retained a striking beauty.
And Darren, with his notoriously flirtatious ways…
“What are you thinking…” Darren’s mouth twitched. He snapped irritably:
“I didn’t do a damn thing!! I’ve got standards, alright?!”
He sounded downright offended.
“Really…” Momonga muttered under his breath.
He eyed Darren with suspicion. “You’re acting way too weird about this…”
Momonga knew Darren too well.
Normally, when it came to women, this guy had the thickest skin imaginable.
The fact that he was reacting this strongly only made him more suspicious.
Darren: “…”
“So what exactly happened?” Momonga asked, half-smiling.
Darren’s eye twitched. He turned his head away, pretending to gaze casually out at the sea.
“That crazy woman… wanted me to be her husband.”
He said it in a low voice.
“…What?”
Momonga’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“I SAID that crazy woman wanted to have my child!” Darren shouted, exasperated. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me the first time!”
A dead silence fell.
Then—
“Pffft!!”
Momonga suddenly clutched his stomach and burst into uncontrollable laughter, his face turning red, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
Darren stared at the doubled-over Momonga in speechless irritation, the corners of his eyes twitching madly.
“Hahaha… you… why didn’t you just say yes?”
Momonga was trembling from laughter.
“Charlotte Linlin’s one of the top beauties among pirates, isn’t she? Hahahaha!!”
“And those curvy, seductive mature types — weren’t they exactly your favorite back in the North Blue? Hahahahahaha!!”
“Besides, both of you have mastered Steel Body. It’s a match made in heaven! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
“Who knows? With your… ‘charm’, you might even reform Charlotte Linlin, turn her to our side — HQ might give you a medal! Hahahahaha!!”
He laughed so hard he didn’t notice Darren’s face turning dark as a stormcloud.
“You really should’ve just gone along with her. It might not be such a bad— huh?”
Click!
Momonga’s laughter stopped instantly.
He looked down, bewildered, and saw… a pair of Seastone cuffs clamped around his wrists.
Instantly, a wave of crippling weakness swept through his body. His knees buckled, his strength drained like a receding tide.
“Seastone cuffs?!”
Momonga cried out in shock.
Darren… actually carried these things around?
But wasn’t he a Devil Fruit user himself?
Then why… was he completely fine?
Momonga instinctively looked up — and met Darren’s amused, dangerous gaze.
A chill shot up from his feet to his scalp, sending shivers down his spine.
“…Why aren’t you laughing anymore?”
Darren stood there, shadowy and smiling, rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles with loud pops.
“Getting a little sweaty, aren’t we?”
Momonga forced a sickly smile.
“H-Hey, Darren… don’t overreact, I was just joking—”
His legs trembled, though whether from the Seastone cuffs or Darren’s terrifying aura, he wasn’t sure.
“Oh, I know you were joking.” Darren grinned — all teeth, no warmth.
Momonga took a cautious step back. “So… you’re not mad, right?”
“Me? Mad? Of course not.” Darren smiled cheerfully. “Why would I be mad about something like this?”
…Oh, you’re not mad? Then that’s a relief— said no one ever!!
Momonga’s eyelid twitched furiously. His voice trembled.
“S-So what do you want to do then…?”
Darren clenched his fist. With a sharp boom, compressed air cracked in his palm.
Momonga’s heart skipped a beat.
“Oh, this? It’s just Seastone resistance training.”
Darren’s voice was utterly serious.
“It’s a technique I picked up in Wano. Quick results, excellent effect.”
“…The process just happens to be a bit painful.”
“So hang in there.”
Momonga: ???
The next second—
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”
His miserable screams echoed through the deserted jungle of the island.
(Bellirys
Training: 0/10
Revenge-Fueled Justice: 10/10
“Lesson learned: never mock the boss."
Sleep well, warrior.
May the bruises fade before dawn.🙏)
———
New World — somewhere on the sea.
Whitebeard Pirates — Moby Dick.
A massive black cloud rolled in from the far horizon like a tide of ink.
The once-clear sky turned to night in an instant. Furious waves surged across the sea, and thunder rumbled deep within the clouds.
“The weather sure changed fast…”
A young division commander frowned up at the sky.
“No — that’s not the weather.”
Marco leapt down from the mast, eyes sharp and heavy with dread.
“Something terrifying is coming.”
“What?” The others were starting to sense it too.
Oden — Kozuki Oden — had been leaning against the mast, drinking. But now he stood upright, sober in an instant.
His lone remaining arm instinctively moved to grip the hilt of Ame no Habakiri at his waist.
As a master swordsman, he could feel it — a ferocious, untamed aura of Conqueror’s Haki was screaming toward them from the distant skies.
“No good! It’s him!!”
Marco’s expression suddenly changed. He turned to the crew with a shout:
“Everyone below captain rank — get inside the ship!!”
But even as the words left his mouth, he knew — it was already too late.
BOOM!!!
Black-and-red lightning crackled violently across the sky, lighting up the stunned, pale faces of every crew member aboard the Moby Dick.
Gale-force winds howled. Towering waves roared.
A colossal wave of raw killing intent blasted outward, splitting the clouds.
Several of the younger crew were knocked unconscious on the spot — others stumbled, dazed, as if struck by lightning.
The world before them had become a hellish nightmare.
“Tch… What a troublesome bastard…”
On the grand seat at the center of the deck, Whitebeard slowly opened his eyes.
With an irritated grunt, he reached for his massive naginata — Murakumogiri — and rose to his full height. Towering like a mountain, his golden hair whipped wildly in the wind.
“Jihahahaha!!!”
A twisted, savage laugh rang out from the sky.
And then—
From the depths of the stormclouds, a brutal figure tore through the heavens — wreathed in black-and-red lightning, twin swords in hand, plunging toward the Moby Dick like a falling meteor!
His wild golden mane flared like the roar of a flying lion!
Golden Lion — Shiki!!
"Sashi burida na... Newgate!!!”
(Newgate… long time no see!)
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Don’t just read and ghost me okay 😤 drop a kudo or a lil comment, I’m sensitive 😂
Chapter 331: Chapter 233: That Marine Brat
Chapter Text
“It’s the Golden Lion, Shiki!!”
“A legendary pirate as famous as Pops!!”
“Damn it!! Why the hell is he here!?”
“Everyone—prepare for battle!!”
“……”
A fierce tempest erupted across the sea. Beneath them, the Moby Dick lurched violently through the raging storm.
The members of the Whitebeard Pirates stared in shock at the figure diving down from the sky. In their eyes gleamed a wariness and solemn dread they had never felt before. One after another, they drew their blades, bracing as if for a death match.
Even the new recruits aboard had heard more than once of the terrifying reputation of the Golden Lion.
This man was moody and ruthless—a vile pirate, utterly different from their beloved Pops!
Feeling the oppressive weight of his presence crashing down, Marco's heart turned cold, his expression shifting rapidly.
At this moment, Shiki displayed not the slightest grief over the total annihilation of his massive fleet. Instead, the violent arrogance emanating from his entire being was even more terrifying than it had been days earlier on Coin Island.
“Damn… Oden?!”
Marco’s face shifted suddenly, but before he could react, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed behind him.
“Oden!?”
“What are you doing?!”
“……”
Gasps burst out all around. Eyes widened in disbelief as a one-armed figure in a samurai robe suddenly leapt from the deck.
“Hahahaha!! What a powerful sword aura!! Let me test your strength!”
The drunken haze was gone from Kozuki Oden’s face. His eyes now blazed with a vigorous fighting spirit. The gale whipped his loose samurai robes skyward.
Staring at the unstoppable force barreling toward them from above, Oden cast off every shred of despair in his heart.
He had left Wano to sail the world, to behold every wonder and beauty this sea had to offer.
Whitebeard had taken him in, and aboard this ship, he had felt a warmth he had never known.
No matter who it was—he would not allow anyone to challenge Whitebeard’s dignity!
Facing the wind, Oden launched himself upward. His torso bent low, one hand gripping the hilt of Ame no Habakiri, settling into a sword-drawing stance.
Shing!
Flowing Armament Haki danced like mournful cherry blossoms, scattering across his arm before quickly engulfing his blade.
In the instant his head snapped upward—
Oden drew his sword at the flying lion hurtling down from the sky!
The world, veiled in shadows, flashed blinding white, as if night had suddenly turned to day.
A dazzling arc of sword light burst forth.
Blade in front, samurai behind.
As though that supreme katana was pulling his entire body, he streaked toward the sky like a meteor—too fast for the eye to follow!
“Peach Garden Ten Slashs!!”
“Jihahahahaha!! You brat—you’re asking to die!!”
Faced with that blinding slash, the Golden Lion’s savage eyes narrowed, and he let out a crazed, feral laugh.
Zzzzzzzz…
Black and red lightning exploded from the twin blades, Oto and Kogarashi, flaring like fireworks. The immense power tore the surrounding space as if conjuring demons from the void.
“Out of my way!!”
It was as if he held thunderbolts in each hand. With bloodshot eyes, Shiki swung down hard!
BOOM!!
The next instant, they collided like two meteors crashing to Earth!
At the point where three blades nearly met, a storm of black-red energy swirled and compressed.
Oden’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.
No impact?!
This… this was Whitebeard’s power!
Before he could process it, Shiki roared with laughter and slashed downward with overwhelming force!
A mass of black-red lightning exploded onto Oden’s chest. Blood mist burst from the blow as his body tumbled like a severed kite, smashing through the deck of the Moby Dick with a deafening crash.
The crew shouted in alarm as he disappeared below.
Shiki, unfazed, rocketed toward Whitebeard.
Whitebeard frowned, gripped his colossal naginata, and stepped forward—then slashed upward with full force!
The same terrifying black-red lightning coiled thickly around the air near his blade.
Sword and naginata clashed midair!
BOOM!!
A swirling sphere of dark energy exploded once more between them, twisting, crashing, growing—
Flames of lightning and infernal winds surged outward. Shockwaves pounded in every direction. The sea for kilometers erupted into chaos, waves towering hundreds of meters.
The clouds in the sky shredded layer by layer. Cracks spread like spiderwebs across the deck of the Moby Dick.
Many of Whitebeard’s men were blown away, desperately clutching masts and railings to avoid being flung into the sea.
Marco and the other commanders shielded their eyes with one arm, gazing in awe at the godlike figures before them.
“Pops… he’s going all out!”
“There’s actually someone in this world who can fight him to a standstill…”
“This is insane… It’s like the end of the world.”
“……”
At that moment, both Whitebeard and Shiki’s eyes flared with crimson light. Their golden hair whipped upward, and their auras surged to the absolute peak.
BOOM!!
With a heaven-shaking roar, a massive shockwave blasted skyward, tearing a gaping trench through the heavy clouds.
The sky split open.
The two men stepped back in unison, and the world fell silent.
The tsunami, frozen midair, crashed down, sending spray high into the heavens.
“Jihahahahaha!! Newgate, it’s been a long time.”
The Golden Lion chuckled as he sheathed his blades, then casually grabbed a bottle of strong liquor from the deck and took a long swig.
He glanced toward the samurai now crawling out of the crater and grinned.
“That sworn brother of yours… not bad at all.”
His gaze landed on Oden—blood soaking his chest, but his eyes burning with undimmed fire.
“Hey, samurai. You’re a dual-blade swordsman, right? That last move… lacked a bit of thrill.”
Oden’s pale face cracked into a smile.
“It’s just an arm. Give me some time—I’ll adapt… maybe even surpass what I was.”
Facing the fearsome lion before him, he showed not the slightest sign of defeat—only anticipation.
So strong!
This man was unbelievably strong!
And unlike Whitebeard, the Golden Lion was, like Oden once was, a true dual-blade master!
Oden had the strange feeling… that Shiki might just be the strongest swordsman of this era.
Fighting someone this mad… had opened a whole new path in his swordsmanship!
Instinctively, he tightened his grip on Ame no Habakiri. His eyes shone with confidence.
With the insight gained from this clash, he was certain—he’d return to his peak in no time!
No… stronger than ever before!
“Then I’ll be waiting,”
Shiki laughed it off, then turned toward the grim-faced Whitebeard and tossed him a bottle.
“What’s wrong, Newgate? After all these years, is this how you welcome an old friend?”
He winked mockingly.
“Can’t even share a drink with me?”
“After all, we used to sail on the same damn ship.”
Whitebeard narrowed his eyes, planted his naginata in the ground, and uncorked the bottle. Tilting his head back, he downed the whole thing in one go.
In less than five seconds, the bottle was empty.
With a crack, he shattered it on the deck, then sat back down and said coldly:
“The drink’s done. Shiki, if you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Otherwise, I might not be able to stop myself from sinking you here and now.”
“Jihahaha… so heartless.”
Shiki bared his teeth in a grin.
“This time, I came…”
He licked his cracked lips, eyes glowing with violent madness.
“To talk to you about… a certain interesting little Marine brat.”
His eyes glinted slyly as he glanced at the one-armed samurai.
“Come to think of it, he’s got quite a grudge against your Whitebeard Pirates too…”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 332: Chapter 234: He Will Become Your Father
Chapter Text
The New World.
Whole Cake Island.
This island had a truly peculiar atmosphere. Every single structure across its terrain was pure white and styled like whipped cream. On closer inspection, one would be astonished to discover that the buildings were, in fact, constructed entirely out of cake.
The sky was overcast, with a fine drizzle drifting down from the heavens.
The ceaseless rain washed over the rich scent of cream wafting through the island.
In a corner of Whole Cake Island—
On a field covered with fragrant green grass, the members of the Charlotte Family weren’t clad in their usual eccentric garments. Instead, they wore simple black mourning attire.
Their gazes were downcast. One by one, these black-clad figures stood solemnly in the rain, a stifling heaviness in the air.
Two pale grey gravestones stood before them:
“Charlotte Perospero’s Grave”
“Charlotte Daifuku’s Grave”
Before the markers lay all manner of sweets and fresh flowers offered in mourning.
Tap, tap, tap…
Low, deliberate footsteps rang out from the back of the crowd, mixed with a crisp metallic jingle—the sound of spurred boots striking the earth.
Startled, the crowd instinctively parted to make way.
From within the misting drizzle, a tall figure approached slowly.
He was a young man, perhaps in his twenties. A sharp, murderous aura emanated from him. His eyes were like icy blades—hard, cold, and unyielding.
He had short red hair, long legs, and a lean upper body. His chiseled muscles, bare beneath his open coat, radiated explosive power.
Across his left arm, shoulder, and back stretched pale pink tattoos—most notably a skull-shaped emblem on his bicep. His entire ensemble screamed dark industrial menace: black jeans, spurred boots, and a flowing black overcoat that flapped gently in the chilling breeze.
A wide white scarf obscured the lower half of his face.
His boots and coat were still stained with dried, congealed blood and flesh. As he walked, a strong metallic tang of blood seemed to permeate the very air.
“It’s Katakuri…”
“What’s he doing back? Wasn’t he out suppressing the Edlenko uprising?”
“Apparently it’s over. All 13,000 rebels who opposed Mama’s rule… he slaughtered them all in a single day.”
“What…? But weren’t things in a stalemate just before?”
“No clue. But they say… the moment Katakuri heard about Perospero and Daifuku’s deaths… he went on a rampage.”
“The blood reek is intense…”
“……”
The members of the Big Mom Pirates eyed Charlotte Katakuri with suspicion and unease, their expressions varied, whispers spreading like wildfire.
At this funeral, some smirked. Some scoffed. Some mourned. Some wept.
Though all Charlotte children shared Big Mom’s bloodline, not every sibling mourned the deaths of Perospero and Daifuku.
After all, with so many different fathers among them, true kinship was complicated.
To some of the more peripheral family members, their deaths were even a welcome development.
It meant vacancies had opened among the ministers of Totto Land—and that meant new opportunities for power and influence.
Big Mom herself never cared for such power plays between her children. In fact, she tacitly allowed them.
To her, even her own bloodline was nothing more than a collection of tools and weapons for ruling.
Ignoring all the varied gazes, Katakuri stepped before the two gravestones, lowered himself onto one knee, and gently placed a bouquet of bloodied flowers before them.
“Have we found out who did this?”
His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but chilling to the bone.
No one answered.
His gaze darkened.
BOOM!!
A wave of overwhelming force erupted from his body, surging outward like a tidal wave.
Conqueror’s Haki!
Every member of the Big Mom Pirates present trembled. Those with weaker wills collapsed to their knees with a thud, faces pale and panting heavily.
“I asked you—have we found out who did this?”
Katakuri enunciated every word like an ice-cold nail driven straight into the heart.
“N-no… we don’t know…”
“It… it was Mama… she was the one who told us to retrieve the bodies…”
“She’s the only one who knows…”
“But we… we didn’t dare ask…”
One of them answered in a trembling voice.
Katakuri frowned and withdrew his Haki.
The stormy aura dissipated. The strange pressure lifted.
He slowly stood up, sweeping a frigid glance over everyone present.
“For the next three days, all entertainment across Totto Land will be suspended. We will mourn Perospero and Daifuku.”
“And I better not see any of you coveting their territories or ministerial seats. Everything will be decided by Mama.”
“Is that clear?”
Without waiting for their response, Katakuri turned and walked away.
His blood-soaked figure soon reached the gates of Cake Castle.
Raising a hand, he stopped the guards from announcing his arrival. His face expressionless, Katakuri looked up at the castle.
Then, with a thud, he dropped heavily to one knee and bowed his head.
“Mama, I want to know—who killed them?”
Silence.
Katakuri bit his lip—then suddenly slammed his forehead hard against the ground.
Crack! The stone split, thin lines spreading outward. Blood dripped steadily from his brow, startling the nearby guards.
“Mama—please tell me!”
Still, silence.
A long, crushing silence.
Katakuri could no longer contain the fury boiling inside him.
He had always gotten along with Perospero. Together, they’d maintained Totto Land’s fragile rule.
And Daifuku—he was his true sibling. Same father. Same mother.
Their deaths were a brutal blow to Katakuri, who valued blood and kin above all.
Blood vessels burst across his eyes. His gloved fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.
Suddenly, the very world around him shifted.
The ground, the walls, the statues, the lampposts—all lifeless matter began to ripple and twist, transforming into writhing mochi strands, stretching like serpentine tendrils in a chaotic dance.
The guards recoiled in terror. None had ever seen anything like it.
“Mama—please tell me!!”
Katakuri raised a crimson gaze and stretched out his hand. At that instant, a tidal wave of mochi surged into the sky, amplified by his erupting Conqueror’s Haki.
But then—
“Mamamama… as expected from my most trusted son. You’ve finally awakened your Devil Fruit!”
A raspy female voice echoed from deep within the castle, laced with undisguised pride.
Yet her tone turned instantly severe.
“But this display… are you thinking of raising a hand against me?”
A wave of Conqueror’s Haki, far more potent than Katakuri’s, came crashing down. The sheer force rendered the guards unconscious and cracked the very walls of the castle.
Katakuri’s pupils constricted.
That overwhelming pressure smashed into him. With a thud, he dropped to one knee again. His vision blurred, the world fracturing like broken glass.
Yet he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright, spine straight as an iron rod!
“No!!”
His bloodshot eyes flared.
“I only want revenge for Daifuku!”
“The dignity of the Charlotte Family—must never be defiled by outsiders!!”
Abruptly, the crushing aura vanished.
Katakuri’s body sagged with relief. He gasped for breath, drenched in sweat.
Creak…
The great doors of the castle slowly opened.
Big Mom sat upon her throne. Her long legs, clad in pink leather boots, were crossed lazily. One hand rested under her chin as she gazed at Katakuri with a half-smile.
“No… Rogers Darren isn’t an outsider.”
Charlotte Linlin’s red lips curled up, her smile seductive and inscrutable.
“He will become my twenty-seventh husband… which means—he’ll be your father.”
Katakuri froze.
Then his eyes bulged, crimson veins erupting across them.
His fists clenched tighter… and tighter.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 333: Chapter 235: A Child’s Game
Chapter Text
The New World.
Aboard the Moby Dick.
“Jihahahaha, well, Newgate… isn’t this the perfect plan?”
The Golden Lion’s eyes locked onto the towering man seated in the center of the deck. His gaze brimmed with menace and cunning as he spread his arms wide, grinning wickedly.
“It’s time for the brats of this sea to once again witness the true terror of pirates!”
Marco and the other Whitebeard Pirates stood frozen, their faces pale, minds reeling like a storm-tossed sea.
They could hardly believe what they were hearing.
This man… had come up with something that insane!?
Had he gone completely mad?
But Shiki paid no attention to their expressions.
To him, their opinions were utterly meaningless.
“Well? It’s been a long time since we’ve fought side by side… I’ve always missed those good old days, sailing on the same ship…”
His smile was sharp, serpentine.
“Such fond memories.”
Whitebeard frowned.
He lifted his massive sake gourd and took a long drink. Then, with no emotion on his face, he said:
“Are you done talking?”
“One drink’s finished. Time for you to leave, Shiki.”
Shiki blinked.
A flicker of anger lit in his eyes.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Whitebeard replied flatly:
“I have zero interest in your plan. And I’ve no desire to recklessly start a war with the Marines… If that’s what you want, go do it yourself.”
He glanced over at Kozuki Oden.
“Oden’s vengeance is his own to claim.”
“That’s a choice he’s made. The rest of us won’t interfere. To do so would be the greatest insult to a samurai’s honor.”
“As for this so-called ‘bond of comradeship’ you speak of…”
His eyes turned cold as ice.
“If I remember correctly, when we were on the same ship… there was no such bond.”
“Those days, living in fear of getting stabbed in the back by your own crewmates—I’ve had enough of that life.”
As he spoke, his gaze slid to Marco and the others. A faint warmth shimmered deep in his eyes.
Shiki narrowed his eyes.
So that was it…
He had noticed that glance. The way Whitebeard looked at his crew.
“I see…”
The grin returned—mocking, poisonous.
“What a shame, Newgate… I used to have high hopes for you. But now, to see you reduced to this—it’s pathetic.”
“With all your terrifying strength… and you want to play house in the middle of this war-torn sea?”
“Jihahahahaha!!”
Shiki’s body slowly rose, hovering above the deck of the Moby Dick. From high above, he looked down on them all.
“Go on then! Keep playing your fake little family game!”
“You really think that by leaving the Marines alone, they’ll leave you alone?”
“Jihahahaha!! Utterly foolish! Naïve beyond belief!”
“This world… is still one where the strong devour the weak!!”
His gaze crossed the vast air between them, locking eyes with Whitebeard.
“Newgate, I used to believe you and I were the same—driven by ambition, by hunger.”
“But now it’s clear. We’re on different paths.”
“When the real war begins… I’ll be watching.”
“Let’s see if you can still protect this gang of brats behind you!”
“Jihahahahaha!!”
With that final, scornful laugh, Shiki’s form soared into the sky—vanishing beyond the horizon.
Whitebeard sat there, unmoving. His face heavy, his silence long.
…
Days later.
The North Blue.
BAM!!
A boot slammed hard into Momonga’s face. The absurd, inhuman strength behind it launched him through the air.
Shockwaves rippled through the sky as his body smashed through over a dozen towering trees, finally crashing into the base of a mountain with a thunderous crack.
The mountain trembled. Jagged cracks spread across the rockface.
Smoke and dust filled the air. From within the rubble, Momonga’s ragged coughing echoed.
“You bastard… How many times do I have to tell you—stop hitting my face…”
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he struggled out of the crater, Seastone cuffs locked tight around his wrists.
Not far away, Darren descended from the sky, landing lightly on his feet.
He smiled playfully.
“If you don’t want me hitting your face, then dodge.”
Momonga twitched at the corner of his mouth, restraining the urge to curse aloud.
I’m wearing Seastone cuffs, damn it! Just being able to move is a miracle!
But he didn’t bother arguing. What was the point? He’d still get beaten either way. Might as well save his breath.
Flopping down on the ground, Momonga sprawled out like a wreck. No hint of dignity or authority remained in this so-called “Supreme Commander of the North Blue.”
“Done already?”
Seeing his battered adjutant lying there like a broken toy, Darren couldn’t resist a jab.
To be fair, Momonga really was talented.
In just a few short days, he had adjusted to the effects of the Seastone cuffs. Even under their suppression, he’d begun reacting—blocking, dodging, however clumsily.
Not that it changed the final result: Darren still steamrolled him.
But at least he was starting to resist.
“Why aren’t you back at HQ yet? Don’t you have anything to do?”
Momonga grumbled.
Darren shrugged with a grin.
“I’ve still got a few academic credits to complete, sure. But I’ve got time.”
“And besides, helping my adjutant train feels far more important than bookwork.”
You’re just addicted to beating me up… Momonga rolled his eyes with a groan.
“Well then, today’s beat—uh, I mean, today’s Seastone resistance training is over.”
Darren chuckled, summoned a metal hoverboard, and with one smooth step, launched into the sky and vanished into the clouds.
Momonga: “…”
You said the quiet part out loud.
…
Rubeck Island.
Inside the meeting hall of the Donquixote Family.
Doflamingo, Trebol, and the other officers were deep in discussion—plotting their next moves.
“Who’s there!?”
Doflamingo’s eyes turned sharp. His clawed fingers snapped toward a shadowed corner.
Slash!!
The walls and floor of the chamber split in razor-thin lines.
A tall figure stepped from the shadows, gripping several invisible threads in one hand. Sparks danced across his skin as he smiled at Doflamingo.
“Doffy, it’s been a while. You’ve grown stronger.”
Doflamingo’s expression shifted.
He hesitated… then slowly dropped to one knee, taking a deep breath.
The proud head bowed.
“Greetings… Godfather.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 334: Chapter 236: A Father’s Presence
Chapter Text
At the sight, Trebol and the others exchanged subtle glances—then dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in unison.
“Greetings, Godfather Darren.”
They had no choice but to submit.
The man before them—this monster—had, on his own, annihilated the legendary Golden Lion Shiki’s entire fleet.
Especially now, with the dreadful aura faintly radiating from Darren’s body… it sent chills down their spines, made their hearts race uncontrollably.
No matter how proud they were, no matter what reputation they held as underworld giants of the North Blue—before absolute strength, they were no more than ants.
In that vast council hall, only Darren remained standing.
He smiled, pleased.
“Very good. I do admire those who understand proper etiquette.”
Darren walked forward at a leisurely pace, extending his hand for Doflamingo to kiss the back of.
“You all know I’ve been rather busy lately—haven’t returned to the North Blue much. But from the look of things, you’ve done well. The underworld here is running like clockwork. That… I’m quite satisfied with.”
The others rose carefully, still visibly uneasy.
Darren slouched casually onto a plush leather sofa, lighting a gold-foil cigar. His gaze fell on Doflamingo, seated across from him.
It had been more than half a year since they last met. The boy had grown.
Gone was the little runt who had first arrived in the North Blue. Now, Doflamingo had taken on the stature of a young man.
His messy blond hair resembled a crown. His sharp facial contours, a height nearing one-eighty—his very presence hinted at the dark majesty of a future world emperor.
Through Observation Haki, Darren sensed it clearly—his aura had grown markedly stronger.
He felt a twinge of reflection.
There was no denying it: Doflamingo was gifted. In terms of raw talent alone, he far surpassed Momonga.
If Darren hadn’t entrusted the Rumble-Rumble Fruit to Momonga, suppressing the ambitions of someone like Doflamingo in the North Blue would have been no easy feat.
After all, Momonga had Darren’s direct guidance and training.
And Doflamingo?
He had nothing but a bunch of sycophants like Trebol. Yet even so, he had managed to develop the String-String Fruit to this level purely through his own experimentation. That said everything about his innate talent.
“Godfather… this time you’ve returned to the North Blue—is it for…”
As Darren studied him, Doflamingo carefully probed the older man’s intentions.
Darren chuckled.
“Can’t a godfather come check in on his godson?”
He exhaled a ring of smoke, his voice tinged with something like regret.
“To be honest, Doffy, I haven’t been a very competent godfather. My guidance to you has been… insufficient, to say the least.”
“This time, aside from handling some North Blue fleet matters, I wanted to make up for that shortcoming.”
That pronouncement stunned the room.
Doflamingo asked uncertainly:
“Godfather… you mean… you want to train me?”
Darren sighed.
“That’s right. As my godson, if you remain too weak, it reflects rather poorly on me, doesn’t it?”
…
Ten days passed in the blink of an eye.
Above a desolate island in the North Blue—
Two figures glided swiftly through the sky, one leading, the other following.
“Just like that—use your strings to hook onto clouds, pull your body along. That’s how you create your own aerial path.”
Darren, riding a sleek metal hoverboard with hands in his pockets, floated backward effortlessly as he instructed Doflamingo.
“Keep your balance. Otherwise, when shifting between strings, you’ll expose an opening.”
A grin tugged at Darren’s lips as he watched the younger man’s slightly clumsy movements.
Compared to Darren’s smooth and nimble flight, Doflamingo’s form was clearly more rigid. He stumbled through the air, forehead beaded with sweat.
“Incredible talent… barely an hour in, and he’s already got the basics of aerial travel down…”
Darren narrowed his eyes as he observed. As time passed, Doflamingo’s control noticeably improved—until Darren beckoned with one finger.
Shing!
A flash of silver whistled through the sky—racing toward Doflamingo.
His pupils shrank in alarm.
Sensing danger, he instinctively swiped his hand forward.
Clang!!
Dozens of near-invisible threads intercepted the silver longsword, sparks flying at the point of contact.
“What was that…?”
Darren smirked.
“Time to raise the difficulty.”
As the words left his mouth, the Skillful Grade Blade Kariumi dissolved into a flurry of sword shadows, filling the sky—engulfing Doflamingo in a storm of steel.
His expression shifted. His movements quickened.
He weaved invisible threads through the air, tethering to clouds and swinging like a child on a jungle gym—all while fending off blades coming from every angle.
The pressure skyrocketed.
Darren’s assault was relentless. Soon, cuts bloomed across Doflamingo’s body. Blood seeped through his white shirt and soaked his pink feathered coat.
On the ground below, Trebol and the others watched in shock, hearts clenching with worry. But they were helpless. All they could do was pray—that the “King of the North Blue” wouldn’t “accidentally” kill their young master during this training.
“What’s wrong, Doffy? Is that all you’ve got?”
Darren lit another cigar, hands still in his pockets, deliberately provoking him.
“Just taking hits? That’s not your style.”
“I’m not even moving… or are you saying you can’t even land a blow on one of my swords?”
Beneath his sunglasses, Doflamingo’s eyes burned red. He growled through gritted teeth:
“Damn it… shut up!!”
Threads exploded from his fingers, weaving into a web that ensnared the oncoming blades and locked them tight.
Then—
With a sudden yank, his coat flaring behind him, he rocketed forward—blurring through the sky to Darren’s position.
“I’m Donquixote Doflamingo!!”
His five fingers slashed downward.
“Overheat!”
Shk!!
Five razor-sharp strings pierced Darren’s flesh, embedding deep into his ironlike muscles.
Blood spattered, droplets flicking across Darren’s face.
At last, he laughed.
“Good. You finally broke through my defenses.”
A thick puff of white smoke left his lips—then the Rear Admiral’s figure vanished like a ghost.
Doflamingo froze.
Before he could react, a black military boot filled his vision.
BOOM!!
He crashed into the ground like a cannonball, carving a massive crater into the island below.
“Doffy!!”
“Are you alright!?”
“Young master!!”
Trebol and the others ran over, panic written across their faces. As they tried to lift his blood-drenched form, Doflamingo batted their hands away.
Gasping, his battered body knelt in the pit, blood dripping from his frame as he glared upward at the descending figure.
That man walked toward him, one step at a time.
A towering silhouette that seemed to blot out the sun, casting a vast shadow over Doflamingo.
He reached out his hand.
As it slowly moved toward him, something flickered in Doflamingo’s eyes—an emotion resembling… fear.
But the hand simply ruffled his hair gently.
Doflamingo froze.
“You’ve grown fast. I’m proud of you, Doffy.”
The man smiled.
“Keep growing. Get stronger.”
“Because only by becoming strong enough… will you be able to kill me. Isn’t that right?”
Before Doflamingo could respond, Darren stepped onto his board and soared away, disappearing into the horizon.
The island fell utterly silent.
“D-Doffy?”
Trebol whispered, seeing his young master still kneeling in a daze.
Doflamingo’s gaze flickered. Then, slowly, he rose.
Blood trickled down from his forehead, pooling under his chin.
But he continued to stare at the sky, at the place where Darren had vanished.
“Tell me… why would that man teach me so patiently? Help me grow stronger?”
He clenched his fists.
In just ten days, Darren’s instruction had surpassed half a year of solitary training.
And he hadn’t held anything back.
He had openly taught him techniques to develop his Devil Fruit, close combat strategies, and even Marine training secrets.
“…Doesn’t he know I’ve always wanted to kill him?”
Confusion and frustration burned behind Doflamingo’s glasses.
Trebol and the others said nothing. They’d witnessed his progress firsthand. They too, had no answer.
“Forget it. Let’s go.”
Doflamingo shook his head, his voice once more calm, imperious.
But perhaps—just perhaps—
Deep inside, in a place he wouldn’t admit even to himself…
When that man ruffled his hair—
He felt something.
Something his cowardly, useless biological father had never given him—
Warmth.
And… safety.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 335: Chapter 237: It Takes Love
Chapter Text
After finishing his “training” with Doflamingo, Darren returned to the 321st Marine Branch in the North Blue.
The moment he stepped into the base commander’s office, he was greeted with an exasperated voice from the man buried in paperwork.
“You again?”
Darren plopped himself onto a plush leather sofa with the air of a boss, lit a cigarette, and grinned.
“What? You’re not happy to see me?”
Momonga’s mouth twitched.
Just a few peaceful days, and Darren was back.
Not that he was unwelcome—but his idea of “training” was nothing short of sadistic.
“So,” Momonga muttered, “you beat Doflamingo half to death?”
Darren poured himself a glass of whiskey. Not finding any ice, he suddenly missed that hot-blooded fellow, Kuzan.
After all, whiskey without ice was basically just some lukewarm swill—like horse piss.
“More or less. Just gave him a bit of guidance.”
Momonga glanced at him, suddenly intrigued.
“You still haven’t given up, huh?”
He knew very well Darren’s intention to mold Doflamingo.
Though he didn’t quite understand the logic behind raising a tiger under your own roof, he’d always respected Darren’s judgment.
“Doflamingo’s a rare talent. Putting him in charge of the North Blue underworld was one of my smarter moves.”
Darren exhaled smoke with a smile.
“He’s still a kid. Don’t be too hard on him.”
Momonga frowned.
“I just don’t want this to blow up in your face. That kid doesn’t look like someone who’d ever accept being beneath another.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“Do you know what he did to the mafia bosses he purged?”
“He used his Devil Fruit to control them—then locked them all in a room and made them fight to the death. Only the last one standing was allowed to live.”
Momonga sighed heavily.
That was what worried him.
Doflamingo was twisted.
As a Celestial Dragon, he had been born with an innate sense of superiority. His traumatic childhood had warped that arrogance into something far darker—obsession.
He couldn’t stand to be looked down upon. That pathological obsession bred hatred, which in turn gave birth to a destructive hunger.
A pure desire to destroy—for no reason but to see others suffer. To crush dreams. To hurt lives. That was where he found pleasure.
Hearing this, Darren paused in thought.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke slowly:
“Momonga… you know, all adult obsessions stem from the wounds of their childhood.”
Everything Doflamingo did—it was just the lashing out of a bitter child craving attention.
In the original timeline, he had seized the Heavenly Tribute gold, secured a seat among the Shichibukai, overthrown Dressrosa, became the biggest broker in the underworld, and even partnered with Kaido to create artificial Devil Fruits, fueling wars worldwide…
All of it was a cry for attention.
A message to the World Government—or more accurately, to the Celestial Dragons:
Look at me. You threw me out of Mary Geoise. That was a mistake. Open your eyes—if I can’t return to your world, I’ll burn it to the ground.
That was the heart of Doflamingo.
“I won’t comment on his methods,” Darren said with a faint smile, “but when it comes to enemies, brutality is a necessity.”
He blew out a trail of smoke.
“He’s just an immature brat. Arrogant enough to be deeply insecure. Deeply resentful. Being constantly crushed by our strength, of course he has to vent that rage somewhere.”
“At least he follows the rules. He hasn’t laid a hand on any civilians, has he?”
Momonga pinched his temples.
“What worries me is what’ll happen if something happens to you. That kid doesn’t look like someone who’ll stay loyal to strength.”
Darren nodded in agreement.
“Exactly. You can’t deal with someone like that using just brute force. You can beat him into submission, but his heart will never yield.”
“He’ll bury that resentment deep, like a viper waiting in the shadows, just to strike you the moment your guard is down.”
“To truly conquer Doflamingo’s heart… fists aren’t enough.”
“Then what is?” Momonga asked.
Darren smiled meaningfully.
“It takes love.”
Momonga: “???”
He stared blankly at Darren.
After a long pause, he muttered:
“Doflamingo… isn’t a woman.”
Darren: “……”
He rolled his eyes.
Honestly, Momonga was getting more repressed by the day.
That Supreme Commander position—too many banquets and political dealings. The man had “matured” way too fast.
“What I mean is—Doflamingo has never known affection.”
Darren exhaled sharply.
“To you, what’s his biggest weakness?”
Momonga shook his head.
Darren’s gaze turned unreadable.
“His greatest weakness… is his dead father.”
“He hates his father’s weakness. His naivety. He despises how that man failed him.”
“Growing up without a father’s love… deep down, he’s desperate for someone strong, powerful, respected—someone who can care for him, guide him, and, most of all, accept him.”
“He longs for a father figure who’ll ruffle his hair when he does well. Who’ll pat his shoulder after failure and say, ‘It’s okay. I’m here.’”
“He yearns for someone like that—whether he admits it or not.”
Momonga fell silent, deep in thought.
After a while, he looked at Darren and let out a wry smile.
“You’re a devil, you know that?”
(Bellirys: I couldn’t help but agree. That man really is a devil. ( ̄ー ̄)b )
“Am I?”
Darren shrugged with a grin.
“I’m just doing my duty as his godfather. Supporting a troubled youth. Helping a warped heart find the right path… Some people might even call me an angel.”
Momonga: “……”
Shameless.
“Alright, I should get going.”
Darren stubbed out his cigarette and downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp. Rising from the sofa, he made his way to the door.
At the threshold, he paused.
“I’m leaving the North Blue in your hands, Momonga.”
The Momonga said nothing.
But then, suddenly, he stood straight.
And with a solemn expression, he raised his hand—
And saluted.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 336: Chapter 238: You Look Beautiful Today
Chapter Text
By the time Darren returned from the North Blue to Marine Headquarters, night had already deepened.
With his intimate knowledge of the base’s patrol routes and defenses, he effortlessly slipped past the watchtowers, cruisers, and Marine security squads—quiet as a ghost—as he entered Marineford.
It wasn’t like he was sneaking in to do anything shady.
He just couldn’t be bothered with formalities.
As he rode his metal hoverboard toward the residential quarters, Darren suddenly changed course—heading instead toward Gion’s place.
No deeper meaning.
Just dropping by to check on an old subordinate.
…
“Mm…”
A breathless, delicate moan lingered in the moonlight.
Outside, the silvery moon cast its light through the window, soft and seductive.
Their bodies still tangled from a fierce, intense battle.
Gion lay atop Darren’s chest, lips slightly parted, exhaling warm, fragrant breaths. Her long black hair clung to her sweat-slicked neck and shoulders.
“You bastard… showing up in the middle of the night just to bully me!”
She glared at him with flushed cheeks, her eyes flashing with anger as she caught his teasing smile.
Darren smirked.
“I get it—you missed me and wanted me home. In that case, I guess I should leave and head back.”
He moved to get up and reach for his clothes.
“No…”
A strange panic welled up in Gion’s chest.
She reached out, grabbing the hem of his shirt. But her pride wouldn’t allow her to meet his gaze. She turned her head away and muttered:
“Don’t… don’t go.”
Just the thought of him returning home left a sour, tangled feeling in her chest.
And more than anything—every time they did this, that bastard Darren always zipped up and left right after, never once staying for the quiet aftermath.
That emptiness always lingered, like she’d been used and discarded.
It made her feel… cheap.
“Oh? What was that? I didn’t quite hear you…”
Darren feigned innocence, clearly amused.
Gion bit her lip, then gave him a sharp shove, growling:
“Then get out!! Don’t ever come back!!”
Her elegant eyes shimmered, on the verge of tears.
But in the next moment, she felt two warm, strong arms wrap tightly around her.
And that scoundrel’s voice, low and soft, tickled her ear:
“I’m not going home tonight. I’ll stay here—with you.”
Gion’s body trembled.
But she said nothing.
Nor did she push him away.
Moonlight streamed gently through the window, filling the room with quiet and calm.
“…So,” she whispered after a long pause, “you haven’t gone home since getting back?”
Darren held her close, enjoying the silky softness against his palm. He chuckled.
“That’s right. As soon as I got back, I came straight to you.”
He knew what she was feeling.
The way he always left after their nights together—it really did feel like he was just using her.
Gion never said it aloud—her pride wouldn’t let her—but Darren could sense her disappointment.
So this time, he’d decided: he’d come to her first.
Even for a man like him, with too many lovers to count, he had to admit—
It was complicated.
Unlike the flings he’d had in the North Blue, casual and detached, Gion—and Toki too—were different. They touched something deeper. Something real.
And for Darren, a scoundrel at heart, that feeling was… unsettling.
Hearing his answer, Gion smiled faintly in his arms, despite the lingering embarrassment of his wandering hands.
“Hmph…”
Resting against his solid chest, still weary from their earlier exertion, Gion closed her eyes.
Soon, her breathing evened out—drifting into peaceful sleep.
Darren smiled.
His gaze landed on the windowsill… where a single rose stood in a delicate white porcelain vase.
The rose was golden, made of fine foil, surrounded by baby’s breath. It had clearly been placed with care.
Bathed in moonlight, it looked dazzlingly beautiful.
“…Stupid bastard… stop bullying me all the time…”
The girl in his arms murmured in her sleep, shifting slightly.
Darren’s smile softened.
…
The next morning.
Darren slipped out of Gion’s housing quietly. After circling around, he entered the Marine Headquarters harbor with all the pomp of a returning officer.
“It’s Rear Admiral Darren!”
“Rear Admiral Darren’s back?”
“Good morning, Rear Admiral Darren!”
He greeted patrolling Marines along the way with easy familiarity. After buying some breakfast from a vendor, he strolled leisurely toward his home.
Elsewhere—
Gion quickly cleaned up the battlefield from last night, changed into a fresh Marine uniform, and stepped out with poise.
It was her weekly visit to Vice Admiral Tsuru’s home.
She always went to say hello, share a few words, and then head to the training camp.
Last night’s peaceful sleep had put her in a remarkably good mood.
“Tsuru-neesan.”
As soon as she entered the yard, she saw Tsuru under a tree, glasses perched low as she read through a file.
“You’re here, Gion.”
Tsuru closed the folder and looked up with a gentle smile.
“Good morning, Gion!”
A shrill, fawning voice suddenly called out. Gion turned to see Tokikake peeking around the doorframe, holding several breakfast packets in his hands.
“Tokikake?”
Gion blinked, then gave a polite smile.
“Good morning.”
Perhaps because of her cheerful mood, there was no trace of her usual icy pride.
Instead, her smile carried warmth.
Standing in the morning sun, she looked radiant.
Her black hair danced in the breeze, framing her like a blooming rose—beautiful, but barbed.
Tokikake was dumbfounded.
He had never seen Gion look so breathtaking.
That smile—it melted through her usual frost, revealing something brilliant beneath.
In that moment, Tokikake was screaming inside.
Gion smiled at me! It must be because I shaved today—I look so sharp!!
He had no idea.
No idea what kind of seductive grace had been on display in that room just the night before.
His cheeks flushed red. Flustered, he stammered:
“G-Gion… you look… more beautiful than ever today.”
“Is that so…”
Gion tilted her head, as if recalling some lovely memory.
With poise, she smiled.
“Thank you.”
Off to the side, Tsuru shook her head with a sigh, casting a look of pity at Tokikake.
The glimmer in Gion’s eyes was unmistakable.
Springtime love.
A veteran like Tsuru saw it instantly.
Completely fallen for him… That damn Darren…
---
To be continued…
Chapter 337: Chapter 239: Garp’s New Target
Chapter Text
Tsuru let out a quiet sigh in her heart.
She’d watched Tokikake grow up—well, not the most handsome kid around, but overall, he was a decent young man.
As for Gion’s decision, she knew better than to get involved. She had no intention of blaming anyone.
Who hasn’t been young once?
Compared to the powerful, brilliant, and dazzling “monsters” of the Marines, Tokikake, though certainly talented, did fall short.
It’s only natural for people to admire someone outstanding.
Tokikake was just... unlucky, that’s all.
But then Tsuru recalled this brat Tokikake’s daily antics of “caring for women” and “researching the red-light district,” and whatever hint of regret she had evaporated instantly.
…
Ding-ling-ling…
As the bell rang, a chorus of groans filled the cultural studies classroom of the training camp.
“Stop writing already! Hand in your papers!”
“Onigumo! Put your hair away! If you don’t know the answer, you don’t know it—using all those arms to write won’t help!”
“And you, Yamakaji!! It’s just a test—do you have to look like you’re at a funeral? Look at that mountain of ash on your desk!”
“Tokikake! What are you sneaking glances at?! Keep it up and I’ll gouge your eyes out!”
“Kuzan! Wake up!! Time’s up!!”
“…”
Standing at the podium, Zephyr rubbed his forehead in exasperation as he looked at the devastated classroom of students.
This bunch of little bastards—never paying attention in class, then pulling out all sorts of nonsense during exams.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning as student after student handed in their test papers.
Zephyr flipped through the thick stack, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper, his face growing darker with every page.
Kuzan handed in a blank sheet.
Tokikake’s handwriting, much like himself, was crooked and messy—not only did he copy answers wrong, he made them worse.
Onigumo’s answers were at least passable. Yamakaji’s were average, nothing to write home about.
Gion, as always, delivered an excellent performance—elegant handwriting, neatly ordered responses, and clear, logical analysis that was a pleasure to read.
“Wait, where’s that brat Darren’s paper?”
Zephyr suddenly remembered and began rummaging through the stack.
“That punk’s been skipping class day in and day out. If he bombs this exam, I’ll have to give him a proper beating…”
Muttering to himself, he finally found Darren’s paper.
But when he looked at the answers, his eyes suddenly lit up.
His face froze, and he couldn’t help but murmur:
“This kid… really is a genius.”
…
“Hey Darren, how’d you do? The questions were so hard—I fell asleep just looking at them.”
Just outside the exam room, Kuzan greeted him with his usual easygoing manner, draping an arm over Darren’s shoulder and grinning.
Darren’s mouth twitched.
“I know. I heard you snoring.”
“Hahahahaha! Loud, wasn’t it!?”
Kuzan laughed proudly, entirely shameless.
This guy and his bottomless energy… Darren sighed inwardly.
In truth, the cultural studies test wasn’t particularly hard—most of it was basic entry-level content.
After all, the training camp’s focus was on combat readiness, not academic excellence.
And as a transmigrator, Darren had survived the hellish gauntlet of test-prep in his past life. He might not have been a top student back then, but when it came to this level of exam? More than enough.
“Oh, right—Garp-san said he wanted to see you. You’ve been gone for over ten days now.”
As they walked toward the residential area, Kuzan suddenly smacked his forehead, as if just remembering something.
“Vice Admiral Garp, huh?”
Darren thought for a moment, then nodded.
Back on Coin Island, when he clashed head-on with the Golden Lion Shiki, he’d faintly recalled the sensation of Garp’s punch—that’s what let him barely block Shiki’s terrifying blade.
It wasn’t just thanks to his monstrous physique and Armament Haki—Garp’s incredible strength had played a key role.
Just learning a fraction of Garp’s techniques had elevated him enough to face a legendary pirate like Shiki.
What if he mastered everything Garp had to teach?
Combined with his unnatural body… what kind of power would that be?
At the very least, getting stabbed wouldn’t be a concern anymore.
A few minutes later, Darren and Kuzan arrived at the port filled with discarded equipment and broken warships.
As soon as they stepped into the long-abandoned harbor, Darren was struck by the sight: piles of shattered Marine vessels littered the ground.
Medium and small marine ships lay torn apart, as if a rampaging tyrannosaurus had mauled them into pieces. It was terrifying.
Compared to his last visit, nearly a quarter of the ships had been reduced to scrap!
No doubt this was the result of Garp and Kuzan’s recent training.
“You guys have been having a wild time, huh.”
Darren couldn’t help but comment.
Though Kuzan was lazy in class and indifferent about most things outside battle, when it came to training, he never slacked.
Garp was the same.
In fact, Darren suspected the old man avoided a promotion to Admiral not just because he didn’t want to guard those repulsive Celestial Dragons—but also to gain more personal freedom.
More time to train.
And, of course, more time to chase Roger all over the sea.
“Damn right!!”
Kuzan clenched his fist, his expression fired up.
“If I don’t work harder, you’ll leave me in the dust!”
Darren chuckled.
“You’re both here, huh.”
A deep, smiling voice came from behind them.
Darren and Kuzan turned around and saluted the man approaching in his iconic dog-head cap.
“Vice Admiral Garp!” *2
Garp waved a hand casually and sat down on a nearby pile of wreckage, grinning at Darren.
“So, kid—heard from Sengoku you used my move when you fought Shiki?”
Darren nodded, then shook his head.
“Only a sliver of it. I still have a long way to go before I’ve truly grasped it.”
Garp burst out laughing.
“That’s already impressive! My techniques aren’t something just anyone can learn!”
He puffed out his chest with pride.
“Come on, tell me—any problems with your training? I’ll answer them all.”
“I’m heading out to sea again soon. Time’s short.”
Darren blinked, surprised.
“Did the Roger Pirates resurface…?”
The Roger Pirates had vanished for the better part of a year—no intel, no sightings.
This sea was vast. Especially a crew like Roger’s—elite, mobile. Unless they stirred up something major, even Marine HQ had trouble tracking them.
“No… Still nothing on Roger. Damn guy’s up to who knows what lately…”
Garp shook his head, a heavy look in his eyes.
“This time… the target is Patrick Redfield.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 338: Chapter 240: King of Team-Ups
Chapter Text
Hearing that thunderous name, both Darren and Kuzan froze—pupils shrinking sharply.
Patrick Redfield.
Also known as the “Red Count” and “Red the Aloof,” he was one of the legendary pirates of old. His strength was overwhelming—so much so that he was said to rival Roger and Whitebeard single-handedly.
Though that assessment came from Sengoku, who was often suspected of exaggerating his opponents, it still served to highlight how terrifying Redfield truly was.
After all, Darren clearly remembered that Redfield had real feats under his belt.
Before the Great Pirate Era began, he had once battled Fleet Admiral Steel Bone Kong for ten full days and nights. He narrowly won, only to collapse from exhaustion and be “cleaned up” by the belatedly arriving Vice Admiral Garp, who tossed him into the sixth level of Impel Down—Infinite Hell.
It was because of that infamous battle that Garp earned himself the odd nickname of the “Cleanup King”—or more accurately, the “King of Team-Ups”
So this was the decisive battle in the original timeline that led to Redfield’s defeat.
The thought flickered across Darren’s mind, but he quickly regained his composure.
That said, the nickname “King of Team-Ups” wasn’t entirely unfounded.
Looking over Garp’s storied career, nearly all of his legendary victories had come through teaming up.
At the God Valley Incident, a young Garp had joined forces with none other than Gol D. Roger to defeat the Rocks Pirates, earning him the title of Hero of the Marines.
In the battle between Kong and Redfield, Garp again “teamed up,” arriving just in time to seal the victory—solidifying his image as the “strongest Marine.”
Later, when the Golden Lion went berserk and stormed Marineford solo, it was Garp and Sengoku, together, who brought him down and locked him in Impel Down.
With the “team-up” buff active, Garp was utterly unstoppable.
But the one time he went solo—to Hachinosu Island to rescue his student Koby—he got stabbed clean through the chest by Shiryu and his fate became uncertain.
It didn’t quite add up.
Looking at it that way… the nickname “King of Team-Ups” suddenly made a lot of sense.
Darren stroked the faint stubble on his chin, his gaze toward Garp growing subtly strange.
Before he could speak, Kuzan suddenly let out a wild yell beside him, startling Darren.
“I’m ready, Garp-san!!”
Darren twitched at the corners of his mouth and turned to look.
Kuzan’s face was flushed red with excitement, his fists clenched tightly, his whole body trembling.
“After this stretch of training, I’ve mastered all the camp’s courses! I’ve also become adept at using Haki! I’m fully prepared to hunt down pirates and fight evil to the bitter end!”
Twin streams of white steam burst from his nostrils as he snapped to attention and bowed deeply to Garp, shouting:
“Please take me with you!!”
Darren: “…”
This guy really was enthusiastic.
Even as he rolled his eyes, Darren couldn’t help but be impressed by Kuzan’s progress.
This was a man known as a “monster,” after all—one of the future Three Admirals. In just half a year, he had grasped Haki with skill, and judging by the aura around him, he was already no weaker than an elite Rear Admiral. His Devil Fruit control had surely advanced as well.
That kind of talent was beyond extraordinary.
“Bwahahahaha! You really are my student—full of spirit!”
Garp beamed at Kuzan, clearly pleased.
“But this time, you two won’t be coming.”
“Redfield’s a lone wolf. He has no fleet, no pirate crew. If I bring you along, you’d have to face him head-on… and in the end, I’d probably have to split my focus to protect you.”
He patted Kuzan’s shoulder, smiling gently.
“You’re the future of the Marines. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Otherwise that bastard Zephyr will be breathing down my neck.”
When Sengoku involved Darren in previous missions, it was because Darren’s Devil Fruit power happened to counter the target. He was never expected to engage in a direct fight—which is why Zephyr, fiercely protective as he was, had allowed it.
But who could’ve guessed that Darren would always end up in some weird situation, forcing him to clash with top-level pirates anyway.
“Damn it!”
Kuzan clenched his fists in frustration, clearly disappointed.
…
“Come on, Darren!! It’s been way too long since our last proper fight!!”
At the abandoned port, Kuzan stood ready, eyes blazing as he locked onto Darren. Battle spirit flared from him like wildfire.
Darren scratched his head helplessly.
Garp had offered them a few quick pointers and then immediately boarded a warship to set out.
According to him, the latest intel confirmed that Fleet Admiral Kong had already engaged Redfield in battle—and Garp needed to support him as soon as possible.
The moment he left, Kuzan wasted no time grabbing Darren for a duel—leading to the scene before them.
“Alright. I’m curious to see how strong you’ve gotten.”
Darren exhaled quietly and flicked his wrist.
With a sharp whoosh, two gleaming swords—one black, one silver—hurtled toward him from afar, hovering at his sides.
Enma. Kariumi.
Kuzan’s eyes sparkled.
“You’ve got another sword now?!”
His eyes lit up.
“That’s… so damn cool!!”
“In that case, I won’t hold back!!”
With that, Kuzan raised his hand.
Blinding frost burst forth, rapidly condensing into a colossal ice bird. With translucent wings spread wide, it surged forward—freezing everything in its path with overwhelming force.
“Ice Block: Pheasant Beak!!”
Kuzan had experienced Darren’s terrifying magnetic swordplay firsthand. He knew better than to hold back—so he opened with a major attack.
In an instant—
The temperature plummeted. It felt as though a towering glacier was crashing down.
As the bone-chilling aura swept in, Darren smirked.
Kuzan really had gotten stronger.
With a twitch of his finger—
Both swords were instantly cloaked in jet-black Armament Haki.
Surging with magnetic force, they trembled violently, releasing white shockwaves as they launched forward like twin rocket blasts!
Boom!!
The blades collided with the ice bird in midair, unleashing a massive shockwave that shattered everything around them.
Ice shards scattered in all directions.
As the frozen mist cleared—
Darren and Kuzan burst through the curtain of frost simultaneously.
Their fists, wrapped in hardened Haki armor, slammed straight toward each other’s faces!
Bang!
Bang!
Both took hits to the face, blood spraying from the corners of their mouths.
But their eyes remained bright and burning. Barely pausing for a second, they charged forward again!
“This is… the kind of battle that sets your blood on fire!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 339: Chapter 241: Lockdown?
Chapter Text
The abandoned naval port.
The setting sun had turned into a curtain of crimson clouds, its glow slowly dyeing the distant sky and spilling across the land.
By now, the entire ground of the port had become a frozen landscape. Crystalline ice spires jutted up from the ground, while a faint mist lingered in the air.
With a dull thud, Darren and Kuzan’s fists crashed into each other’s faces simultaneously. Blood sprayed as both of them staggered backward—then collapsed onto the icy ground.
Huff... huff... huff...
Flat on their backs, sprawled out on the frozen terrain, the two of them panted heavily. Their faces were bruised and bloodied, swollen and battered.
“Hahahahaha!! That was amazing!! Only fighting you gets my blood boiling like this!”
Kuzan laughed wildly, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his face. His grin was full of pure joy.
The joy of finding a true equal.
Darren rolled his eyes, yanking his legs free from the ice with a loud crackling. Shards of frost shattered underfoot.
“Your Devil Fruit really restricts my movement. Not much fun fighting like that.”
Still, there was no denying the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
Kuzan glanced at him, grinning.
“You were holding back, weren’t you?”
Darren didn’t respond—just let the silence speak.
Kuzan truly lived up to his “monster” nickname.
In just half a year, his strength had undergone a staggering transformation. He was now many times stronger than when he first arrived at the training camp.
He had not only developed his Devil Fruit ability to a whole new level, but also mastered Haki. Under Garp’s guidance, even his weakest area—close combat—had been completely reshaped.
Judging from their bout just now, Kuzan’s strength had already surpassed that of HQ’s elite Vice Admirals.
And even so, he still had a gap to catch up to Darren—the freak who was strong in every category.
That alone was enough to leave Darren deeply impressed.
“You really are something else, Darren… Looks like I’ll have to train even harder!”
Kuzan’s eyes glowed brighter. Not the slightest trace of discouragement—just pure competitive fire igniting inside him.
Darren smiled. Just as he was about to speak—
A sharp, piercing siren rang out from the distance.
Urgent. Pressurized. Tinged with tension and anxiety.
Their faces changed instantly. Both sat up in unison, expressions darkening as they looked toward the military district.
That was… the Marineford alarm!
What had happened?
With their sharp eyesight, they could faintly see patrol ships racing back into port from the oval harbor. The rhythmic stomping of Marine boots echoed in the distance.
“Commodore Darren! Captain Kuzan!”
A panicked figure sprinted into the abandoned port.
A messenger.
The young Marine halted before them, panting hard as he saluted.
“By order of Admiral Sengoku, Marine HQ is now officially under lockdown. You are to return immediately to your assigned quarters and report your current status.”
“Ara ara~ sounds serious. Mind telling me what happened?”
Kuzan got to his feet, dusting off his pants, curious.
The messenger glanced at him, but said nothing.
Sensitive information wasn’t casually disclosed. And Kuzan’s current rank—just a Captain—wasn’t high enough.
Darren frowned. It didn’t take him long to grasp what was going on.
“I’m a Commodore of Marine Headquarters,” he said evenly. “And after I graduate from the training camp, I’ll be officially promoted to Rear Admiral. You know that, don’t you?”
The messenger hesitated, then replied:
“There’s been an incident in the New World. A Celestial Dragon was killed. Admiral Sengoku has already departed to handle it.”
A Celestial Dragon… killed?
Darren blinked in surprise.
That was rare.
As World Nobles, Celestial Dragons stood at the absolute apex of power and status in the world.
They were always guarded by CP agents. Small pirate crews couldn’t get close enough to pose a threat.
And those capable of killing a Celestial Dragon usually didn’t dare—or didn’t care to.
After all, killing one would bring not only an Admiral down on your head, but possibly a global manhunt by the World Government itself.
No one wanted that kind of endless trouble—especially not for a single kill.
Not everyone had the same luxury as Darren—an identity within the Marines to provide cover, and the ability to manipulate clues and uncertainty to conceal the truth.
Still… something about this felt off.
He couldn’t quite say why.
“I’ll be taking my leave. I have orders to relay this to the other divisions as well.”
The messenger saluted again and rushed off in a hurry.
“What a pain… I was hoping to go out to sea one more time before graduation.”
Kuzan grumbled, walking over with a scowl.
Darren shook his head.
“Let’s head back. If Sengoku himself has mobilized, there’ll be news soon enough.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Kuzan scratched his head, looking disappointed.
The two of them walked briskly out of the abandoned port, heading toward the residential compound.
The piercing alarms still blared without pause. From loudspeakers mounted on the streetlamps came a deep, droning voice:
“Marineford is now under full lockdown. All civilians are to return home calmly and in an orderly fashion… Remain calm. Do not panic.”
“Once again—Marineford is now under full lockdown. All civilians must return home immediately.”
On the way back, Darren and Kuzan passed by anxious civilians and formations of Marines maintaining order, their brows furrowed in concern.
A torn newspaper fluttered in the cold wind, landing on the desolate street. A tense, suffocating atmosphere permeated every corner of Marineford.
“Tch… It’s just a dead Celestial Dragon. Is this really worth such a fuss?”
Kuzan muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed that his plans to go fishing had been dashed.
Darren pressed his lips together.
Truthfully… this was his fault.
Ever since he’d killed Saint Sildes, the World Government’s trust in the Marines had begun to fracture.
Then came Dragon’s “defection,” which only deepened the doubt and suspicion.
So now, with another Celestial Dragon dead, Sengoku had likely ordered the full lockdown to “clear the Marines of any suspicion.”
“I'm heading home.”
Darren tossed the words over his shoulder and strode off quickly.
He wasn’t worried about Gion. She’d grown up in the HQ—she could handle herself.
But Toki… he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 340: Chapter 242: He’s Already Here
Chapter Text
The closer Darren got to the residential compound, the fewer people he saw along the way.
The once-bustling commercial street now stood deserted. Shopfronts were shuttered tight, and even some vendor stalls had been abandoned mid-prep—steam still rising from pots and pans. The whole scene was eerily desolate.
Darren’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper.
A growing sense of unease gripped his chest. His mind began racing.
Fleet Admiral Kong had gone out to hunt down the legendary pirate Patrick Redfield, “Red the Aloof.” Vice Admiral Garp had gone to support him… That was normal. It aligned with what Darren remembered from the original timeline.
A Celestial Dragon had been killed, prompting Admiral Sengoku to mobilize… That, too, was expected. As World Nobles, any harm to them demanded the highest level of Marine response—no matter what.
If both of these events were “normal,” then where was this gut-deep anxiety coming from?
“Darling!”
A voice broke through his thoughts—urgent and full of worry.
Darren looked up to see Toki standing at the gate of their compound, clad in a kimono and wooden sandals. She waved at him, her eyes glistening like clear autumn water, filled with fear and confusion.
“Toki.”
He called softly, striding forward and pulling her into a firm embrace. He gently patted her back, reassuring her:
“It’s okay. Nothing to be afraid of. A Celestial Dragon was killed, that’s all. HQ’s just gone into lockdown.”
Toki looked up at him timidly.
“A Celestial Dragon...? But who on this sea would dare lay a hand on them?”
Her eyes were clouded with puzzlement.
“So Admiral Sengoku has been deployed?”
Darren nodded, smiling.
“Yes. As the only Admiral stationed at Marineford right now, there’s no one else who could go.”
“Fleet Admiral Kong and Vice Admiral Garp are already out at sea on another mission. HQ’s top forces are all deployed. So there’s nothing for you to wor—”
His words cut off abruptly.
“Darling?”
Toki noticed the sudden change in him and looked up.
He stood frozen—expression hardening by the second. His face clouded with stormy shadows.
…
New World. A certain island.
A Marine battleship docked swiftly at the port.
Admiral Sengoku, clad in his white cape, leapt from the deck with grim authority. Behind him, over a hundred heavily armed Marine elites followed in formation.
The crime scene was already cordoned off by local Marines and government guards. Curious civilians gathered behind the tape, craning their necks to watch.
“Make way!”
“Official Marine business! Clear the area!”
Gunshots rang skyward to disperse the crowd. A path opened.
Sengoku marched forward, face stormy, heart heavy.
Another Celestial Dragon killed.
Why couldn’t these pampered fools just stay in their Holy Land?
Why did they insist on running wild across the seas, seeking entertainment?
Did they really think no one dared touch them?
Sengoku’s temples throbbed just thinking about the mountain of paperwork waiting back at HQ.
But as an Admiral, his foremost duty was to protect the World Government and the Celestial Dragons. He had no choice but to drop everything and come here.
Suddenly, Sengoku stopped in his tracks.
His eyes widened—staring at a sight too horrifying to believe.
A single sword slash—deep, clean, and monstrous—had carved a line from his feet all the way down the street, splitting the commercial district in two.
At the center of the slash lay the corpse of a Celestial Dragon, his body severed cleanly in half.
Blood pooled across the shattered cobblestones. Even the Celestial Dragon’s iconic glass bubble helmet had been split in two.
A bone-deep chill surged up Sengoku’s spine, clawing its way through his back and into his skull. His scalp tingled uncontrollably.
“Admiral Sengoku! According to the CP guards’ report, the attacker never revealed themselves. They couldn’t even react—a single sword slash descended from above, instantly killing Lord Jackmar-sama!”
A Marine captain, drenched in sweat, ran over to report with trembling urgency.
But Sengoku didn’t even seem to hear him. He just stood there, dazed. Red veins spread across the whites of his eyes.
No… it couldn’t be…
Just then, two ghostly figures in white silk robes appeared before Sengoku—faces hidden beneath pale, eerie masks.
A raspy voice seeped from behind one of them, slow and menacing:
“Sengoku. The Lords have given you three days. Either capture or eliminate the killer. If not—”
“—Shut your mouths!!”
Sengoku suddenly roared in fury, cutting them off.
The CP agents flinched, stunned. Then one snapped:
“What’s the meaning of this!? Are you defying the Government’s direct orders!?”
Sengoku shot them a death glare. His suffocating aura made them both fall silent.
“I know who the killer is.”
He ground his teeth, ignoring the haughty agents. His mind spun rapidly.
If… if his hunch was right…
A terrible premonition exploded in his chest. Sweat beaded across his forehead.
Names flashed through his mind.
Then, with grim resolve, he grabbed a den den mushi and dialed a special frequency.
Purururu… purururu…
The den den mushi’s call rang out, shrill and tense against the silence. Sengoku’s nerves pulled taut like a drawn bow.
Answer already!
Pururu!
Connection established.
“Admiral Sengoku.”
A low voice came through the den den mushi.
Sengoku gritted his teeth.
“You’ve heard, haven’t you? A Celestial Dragon was killed—but that’s just a diversion. A trap to lure me out!”
“The killer’s real target… is Marineford!”
Silence from the other end.
“Did you hear me, brat!?”
Sengoku barked into the snail, growing frantic.
“I heard, Admiral Sengoku.”
The voice responded again.
Sengoku exhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm.
“In any case, this is just my suspicion. I’m granting you temporary command of all Marine HQ forces. Mobilize everything—prepare for any scenario, anticipa—”
“No need.”
The voice interrupted coolly.
Sengoku froze. Then his pupils shrank into pinpoints.
Marineford.
Darren held the den den mushi in one hand, pulling Toki behind him with the other. His expression was icy.
Unnoticed, the sky had turned pitch black.
Thunder rumbled. Dark clouds churned like waves—an ominous storm brewing in the heavens.
The Marine Commodore’s lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.
“He’s already here.”
No sooner had the words fallen—
A wild figure with golden hair burst from the clouds above. An overwhelming wave of terrifying, tyrannical aura surged out from him like a storm crashing into Marineford.
“Jihahahahaha! Marines!! This time, I’m killing until I’m satisfied!!”
The legendary pirate, the Golden Lion—
Shiki.
Had arrived at Marineford.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 341: Chapter 243: You Came Here to Die?
Chapter Text
The savage sound of maniacal laughter spread through the thunder-torn heavens like the whisper of a devil in the end of days—making every hair on the body stand on end.
Wave after wave of suffocating killing intent surged forward, crashing into the port. The Marines stationed there went pale as sheets, as if plunged into icy water.
“That’s…”
“Damn it… No way…”
“Golden Lion Shiki!”
“The legendary pirate, Golden Lion Shiki!!”
“Why the hell is he here?!”
“Oh my god…”
Marines and civilians alike looked up in stunned disbelief at the sky. Their hearts reeled as if capsized by a tidal wave.
The legendary pirate Shiki—brazenly invading Marine Headquarters!?
Was he insane!?
“Hurry!! Notify Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku!”
Someone shouted in panic. But the moment the words left his mouth, his voice cut off. His face turned ghostly white.
Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku… were both away.
“Jihahahahaha!! Marines!! You destroyed my fleet—now I’ll sink your damn base into the sea!!”
High above, Shiki bit down on a lit cigar and laughed with wild abandon.
He swept one arm sideways.
What followed made everyone in Marineford’s heart lurch with dread.
In the black storm clouds behind Shiki, streaks of red light began to flicker—faint at first, then growing rapidly.
RUMMMMMBLE…
Low, ominous thunder echoed from the distant skies.
The crimson glow swelled and spread like wildfire. Then, with a shattering roar, they burst through the thick clouds above!
As the Marines stared, wide-eyed, the deep rumble grew sharper—until it became deafening.
These weren’t flames.
They were meteors. Dozens of them. Each one tens of meters in diameter.
Shiki had lifted massive island fragments into the sky using his Devil Fruit—then dropped them as meteorites.
The rocks plummeted under immense gravity. Friction turned their undersides into blazing infernos, casting the sky in blood-red light.
“This… can’t be real…”
“We can’t possibly stop that…”
“This is power… like a god’s…”
“This is terrifying…”
“Are we… all going to die here?”
…
In this moment, tens of thousands of Marines and civilians stood frozen on the ground of Marineford—eyes wide, weapons trembling. Like statues who’d lost their souls.
Reflected in their pupils were the descending meteors. A scene straight from the apocalypse.
And worst of all—
Kong. Sengoku. Garp. Not a single one of them was here.
No one left to stop Shiki.
But just then—like a phantom—a flicker of blue lightning sparked across the void.
And suddenly, something strange happened.
The rifles in Marines’ hands. The cannons on the fortress walls. The gun batteries on the dozens of warships docked at the harbor.
All moved at once.
Barrels shifted. Sights aligned.
Every weapon aimed skyward—at the oncoming meteorites.
The world seemed to hold its breath—
BOOOOOOM!!!
A thunderous barrage erupted from every corner of Marineford.
Thousands of heavy cannons—installed throughout HQ—fired simultaneously. Blazing shells roared skyward, the recoil shaking the very earth.
A black storm of projectiles tore through the air—rising to meet the fiery rain.
Explosions lit up the sky one after another. Fire bloomed like flowers of death, burning the heavens red.
Under the bombardment of thousands of coordinated blasts, the incoming meteors shattered, one by one, into clouds of fire and stone.
BOOM!
CRASH!
BOOOOOOM!!
Buildings struck by fragments crumbled and burst into flames.
People scattered—Marines and civilians running from the deadly downpour. Fires erupted across the base.
But the worst… had been avoided.
“It’s… Commodore Darren’s ability!”
The crowd began to realize—crying out in awe and relief.
“Guess I shouldn’t have tempted fate… I can’t believe he really attacked Marineford…”
Darren stood firm—arcs of electricity crackling around his fingers. With one arm, he shielded a pale-faced Toki, pulling her close.
A meteor shard crashed behind him, obliterating the family compound into smoldering rubble.
A scorching gust blew forward, sending embers and soot swirling. His white Marine coat snapped in the wind.
He raised his head. His eyes narrowed, gleaming cold with fury.
His gaze clashed with Shiki’s above, crackling with invisible sparks.
The Commodore’s lips curled into a mocking sneer.
“What’s wrong, Golden Lion? Losing your airborne fleet wasn’t enough, now you’ve come all the way here… to die?”
At those words, Shiki’s breath hitched. Blood vessels burst in his violent eyes.
“You insolent little brat!”
He spread his arms wide. His gaze locked onto Darren, flashing with murderous rage.
“With Sengoku gone, no one can save you now—Darren!!”
As his words echoed, the Marines nearby felt the ground tremble.
Like a living creature, earth and debris surged up—crumbling ruins and sand flowing together like a tidal wave.
In the blink of an eye, they formed three massive lions with snarling maws.
From the left. The right. And behind.
They charged all at once—aiming to swallow Darren whole.
An unstoppable strike—fast, devastating, absolute.
Nearby Marines tried to shoot—but their bullets did nothing.
“Lion Might: Imperial Earth Howl!!”
But Darren didn’t flinch.
As the world threatened to collapse in from three sides, he merely lifted his eyes—and smiled faintly.
“Is that so?”
Suddenly—
Three towering figures appeared beside him.
To his left. His right. And behind.
“Great Eruption!”
“Light-Speed Kick!”
“Pheasant Beak!”
Molten magma surged,
Blazing lasers exploded,
An arctic windbird screamed forth—
All at once, they slammed into the three charging lions, shattering them on impact.
BOOOOOOM!!
A deafening shockwave tore through Marineford.
The monstrous beasts Shiki had conjured were blown apart—shattered by the overwhelming attacks.
Light streaked across the skies.
Magma scorched the earth.
Shards of frost glittered like ghostly snow.
Darren stared at Shiki’s stunned expression—and smirked.
“Looks like I disappointed you, huh?”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 342: Chapter 244: Monsters vs Monsters
Chapter Text
The city burned.
Black smoke billowed into the sky.
Cries for help and sobs echoed from every corner of Marine Headquarters. From the civilian district came the sounds of children weeping. Marines formed quick-response teams, moving swiftly to evacuate the populace.
“This is insane…”
From the seething magma, bubbling with heat, a figure slowly took form.
Sakazuki.
Molten lava dripped from his cheek as he adjusted his Marine cap with one hand, his eyes like frozen steel, locked on the Golden Lion.
“Don’t forget—this is Marine HQ.”
Countless golden photons gathered into a tall figure as well. Borsalino rubbed the stubble on his chin, his voice lazy and light:
“A legendary pirate… how scary. He really did invade Marineford, huh?”
Ice crystals spiraled upward from the ground, forming the outline of a third figure. Kuzan exhaled a blast of frigid air and flushed red with excitement.
“Hahahaha!! Finally, it’s my turn to join the action!!”
“Darren! Now’s the time for us to fight side by side!!”
The three tall figures stepped forward, lining up beside Darren.
Their massive white coats bearing the word Justice whipped in the wind. Just standing there—they radiated an overwhelming sense of security.
The entire battlefield was shaken.
“That’s Rear Admiral Sakazuki!”
“Rear Admiral Borsalino!!”
“And… that’s Captain Kuzan!!”
“All four of Marine HQ’s ‘monsters’… they’re all here!!”
“We’re saved!!”
The surrounding Marines clenched their fists, shouting with joy as they beheld the towering silhouettes of the four prodigies.
“I thought you all fell asleep.”
Darren glanced sideways, dryly.
Sakazuki said nothing.
Borsalino shrugged, flashing a toothy grin.
“I came as fast as I could, you know…”
Kuzan scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
“I… did fall asleep, actually.”
Darren: “…”
“Jihahahahaha!! A bunch of snot-nosed Marine brats…”
Up in the sky, the Golden Lion Shiki suddenly cackled wildly.
“You really think the lot of you can stop me?”
Whoosh!
A sharp crack tore through the air.
A white ice spear shot up toward the sky, cutting Shiki’s words short.
Kuzan had made the first move, unable to hold back his fighting spirit.
The spear howled through the wind—Shiki’s eyes narrowed as he whipped out his sword with lightning speed.
Clang!
The spear shattered midair, but an intense chill burst from the fragments, racing up Shiki’s blade.
A sheet of frost crept swiftly up his sword, threatening to freeze even his arm.
“Hmph!”
Shiki grunted, his Armament Haki surging in a spiral that blew the frost away in shards.
“Hahahaha!! With the four of us here, it’s more than enough!!”
Kuzan roared with laughter, pointing skyward at Shiki, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Just you alone—you’ll never take Marineford!”
At those words—
Sakazuki frowned.
Borsalino’s face twisted with irony.
And Darren felt a shiver of foreboding crawl up his spine.
Oi oi oi… don’t go jinxing it!
“Oh?”
Shiki smirked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“Who said I came alone?”
The moment his words dropped—
A suffocatingly powerful aura spread from a different direction in the sky.
Sakazuki: “…”
Borsalino: ( ̄︶ ̄)
Kuzan: “???”
Darren’s face twitched.
I told you not to say things like that!!
“Worororo!! Darren brat… long time no see!!”
A voice thundered across the heavens like rolling thunder—low and vicious, laced with murderous hatred.
From the thick clouds above, a massive shadow emerged—growing larger by the second.
In the blink of an eye, it blotted out the sky.
“What… is that…”
“No way…”
“That size…”
“Damn it!!”
Marines stared upward, aghast.
Thunder and lightning coiled across the heavens. Purple bolts slithered through the wind-wracked sky.
Then—
From the sea of clouds, a mountainous head emerged.
Jagged fangs. Long horns. Flowing whiskers. Crimson, vertical-pupiled eyes—
A dragon.
“A DRAGON!!”
“A GIANT DRAGON!!”
“‘The Strongest Creature on Land, Sea, and Air’… Kaido of the Beasts!!”
“KAIDO’S HERE TOO!?”
“How is this even possible!?”
The Marines gasped in horror as the massive teal-scaled dragon drifted from the clouds. Lightning danced along his scales. Wind blades curled around him in a whirling storm.
A wave of sheer dominance crashed down from the sky—dragon might, fierce and crushing.
Thousands of Marines stumbled. The weaker ones passed out cold.
Kuzan’s eye twitched.
“You had to say it…” Darren sighed.
Sakazuki and Borsalino turned to stare at Kuzan—who instantly turned red, gulping as he muttered:
“He’s not here for me! He’s here for you, Darren!!”
Darren: “…”
The dragon Kaido locked eyes with Shiki in the sky. Then he let out a guttural growl.
“Shiki. The brat’s mine.”
“He destroyed my base. I haven’t even begun to settle that score!”
Shiki grinned wide.
“Now now, these brats are Marine HQ’s prized prodigies… I want to kill them all.”
Kaido roared.
“That’s not what we agreed!!”
Shiki snorted.
“Then go ahead—if you can take the head from me, it’s all yours.”
“—Are you two serious right now!?”
Kuzan suddenly snapped.
“You’re underestimating us Marines way too much! We’ve got four people here!! You only have—mmph!!”
Darren quickly slapped a hand over his mouth.
Too late.
“Mamamama…”
A hoarse laugh echoed from another direction in the sky.
RIPPPP!!
Purple lightning burst from the clouds, dancing wildly.
As the storm clouds tore apart, a slender, curvaceous figure descended—standing atop a swirling black thundercloud, wielding an enormous blade.
“Kaido. Shiki. The other little brats are yours—but Darren…”
Pink hair shimmered like flame. Blood-red lips curled into a predatory smile. Long, luscious legs in crimson fishnets hovered above.
She licked her lips and grinned down at him.
“—He’s mine.”
The entire base fell silent.
Then—
It exploded into chaos.
“It’s Big Mom!!”
“One of the legendary pirates!!”
“Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom!!”
“Three legendary figures of the New World… gathered in one place!?”
“…”
Darren’s face twitched uncontrollably.
Borsalino grinned with devilish amusement.
Sakazuki turned and stared at Kuzan, expression blank.
Kuzan: “…”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 343: Chapter 245: Let This Old Man Protect It
Chapter Text
“I...”
Kuzan’s face flushed red as he opened his mouth, trying to say something.
“Shut up.”
Sakazuki and Darren cut him off coldly, their voices overlapping.
Kuzan looked utterly wronged. His chest swelled with indignation as he pointed at Darren.
“What does this have to do with me!? Didn’t you hear? They’re all here for Darren!”
Darren: “…”
There was no way to respond to that.
But before Darren could even think of defending himself, Kuzan suddenly froze, a shudder running through him.
“The three legendary pirates... all targeting Darren...?”
Darren’s eyelid twitched.
Just as expected, Kuzan’s eyes lit up as he stared at Darren, stars of awe sparkling in them. His face brimmed with excitement.
“As expected of my ‘eternal rival’! This is just too cool!!”
The thought alone ignited a wildfire of fighting spirit in Kuzan’s chest, blazing like a roaring inferno.
“In that case, I’ve gotta step up too...!”
He muttered under his breath, then suddenly raised his arm high. Standing tall and proud, he pointed toward the sky where three terrifying figures loomed like gods or demons, and shouted:
“Bring it on, pirates!!”
“Today, with the four ‘monsters’ of Marine HQ present, the noble justice we carry burns like raging fire... Your evil will never prevail!!”
Would you just shut up already...
Darren groaned and covered his forehead in pain.
“Jihahahahaha!! You clueless little Marine brats!!”
Kuzan’s taunt hit the mark. The Golden Lion burst into a twisted laugh, his fury turning to a gleeful, bloodthirsty grin.
His body began to rise into the sky. With both hands gripping his twin blades, he prepared to attack—
But Kaido was faster.
No—he was even more impatient.
“Wororororo!! Then try and survive this, damn you!!”
The colossal dragon soaring through the heavens unleashed a thunderous roar. His mountainous head jerked upward, jaws splitting wide open with terrifying exaggeration.
Then he inhaled—deeply.
In that instant, the air visibly distorted as it was sucked into his massive belly like a hurricane.
Terrifying waves of destruction began to coalesce inside the dragon’s maw, swirling with lightning and howling winds. Crimson light flared with searing intensity.
This is...
Darren’s pupils shrank.
That move!
“DARREN!! I’m going to kill you today!!”
Kaido’s roar echoed like a demon’s curse. A sinister, suffocating killing intent rolled out from his enormous form as flames erupted from his throat in a catastrophic blast.
“Heat Breath!!”
A massive torrent of blazing flame burst from the sky, like a crimson galaxy crashing down from above. The heat was so intense it seemed to melt the very air.
The dark red glow illuminated the stormy sky in a hellish hue.
The blazing inferno expanded in Darren and the others’ eyes, growing larger and larger. The scorching heatwave scorched their skin, made their breath catch dry in their throats.
“HAHAHAHAHA!! Fire? That’s all!? You’re underestimating us!!”
Kuzan laughed fearlessly.
“Right, Darren? Isn’t that so!?”
“We’re Marines, bearers of justice! There’s no way we’re backing down!!”
Frost began to emanate from Kuzan’s body, instantly chilling the scorching currents around him.
“Anyone who backs down now... is a disgrace to the Marines!!”
With pride, he stepped forward.
But then, he paused. Something felt off.
Just as the flames were about to rain down—
Darren wrapped an arm around Toki’s waist and shot backward through the air.
Borsalino grinned lazily as his body split into photons, vanishing in a streak of golden light.
Sakazuki glanced impassively at Kuzan, then vanished with a sharp whoosh, using Soru.
Leaving only Kuzan...
Standing alone, staring blankly at the hellfire crashing toward him.
“…”
Kuzan’s smile froze.
He controlled ice—yes, it countered fire to a degree.
But this scale of flames? There was no way he could hold it back alone!
At that moment—
Tap.
A steady, forceful footstep echoed from behind him.
Before Kuzan could react—
A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped in front of him.
Messy strands of vibrant purple hair whipped in the storm of heat. A thick, heavy white cloak fluttered behind him, and on its back, the jet-black kanji for “Justice” danced like a raging dragon.
Kuzan’s eyes widened.
That figure stepped directly into the oncoming torrent of flame—enough to annihilate a town—with unwavering composure.
Armament Haki surged like living fluid, coating his muscular arm in jet black.
His hand clenched into a fist.
And that fist—thunderous, unstoppable—struck forward!
Black Arm: Meteor!
BOOM!!
The earth-shaking shockwave tore through the sky, colliding head-on with Kaido’s Heat Breath.
A deafening explosion split the heavens. The ground for hundreds of meters rippled like an ocean wave, and flaming buildings were torn from their roots.
The Marines held on for dear life, clinging to whatever was bolted down, eyes wide in awe.
Because before them stood a man who stopped a dragon’s fire with a single punch.
With just his presence, he brought with him an overwhelming sense of security—as if with that steadfast figure standing tall, victory was not only possible, but inevitable.
Flames scattered, smoke billowed.
The man extended his arm and casually snuffed out the remaining sparks and embers.
Then he turned back to Kuzan and grinned.
“How many times have I told you, boy? Think before you act.”
“Z-Zephyr-sensei...!”
Kuzan stared blankly at the man before him, eyes shining with adoration.
“That was... just too cool!!”
Zephyr: “…”
Well, that’s as good as saying nothing.
He sighed and shook his head, muttering:
“Took a bit of time rallying reinforcements.”
From all directions, figures converged rapidly.
They bore sabers, wore Marine uniforms, and exuded a fierce, ruthless air. One after another, they landed behind Zephyr.
“Vice Admiral Davosger, Marine HQ—reporting, sir!”
“Rear Admiral Novi, Marine HQ—reporting to Zephyr-sir!”
“Commodore Snyder… reporting to Mr.Zephyr!”
“…”
High-ranking officers from every stronghold had arrived, eyes fixed on Zephyr’s back with undisguised awe and burning emotion, gripping their sabers tightly.
“Davosger, Novi, Snyder…”
Zephyr’s gaze swept across their familiar faces. A bold, fearless smile tugged at his lips.
“It’s been a long time since we last fought side by side, hasn’t it?”
The dozens of Marine officers snapped to attention, eyes fierce and determined, voices thunderous with rising battle spirit.
“Five years!”
“Yes... five years.”
Zephyr let out a soft sigh, a flash of emotion flickering in his eyes.
These were the very men who once fought beside him on countless battlefields.
“Never thought this old retired man would take to the battlefield again.”
“With Kong and Sengoku gone… Marineford must be protected by me now.”
He clenched his fist, lifting his head to glare at the three pirate kings in the sky. A fearless grin spread across his face.
“Come, then. Let this old man lead you once more—
—to war!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 344: Chapter 246: I Refused. Hard.
Chapter Text
“Zephyr-sensei.”
Darren’s figure descended from the sky behind them.
He had already brought Toki to safety. With an escort of Marines, she had been evacuated along with the other civilians.
After all, Toki had no combat ability—if she remained, Darren would be distracted trying to protect her.
And with a full-scale battle imminent, he couldn’t afford distractions.
At the same time, Sakazuki and Borsalino reappeared at the scene.
“Oi oi oi, you three bastards—how could you leave me like that!?”
Kuzan scowled in protest at their return.
...No one responded.
Zephyr gave the trio a small nod before squinting up at the three pirate titans in the sky. Behind his sunglasses, a deep gravity flickered in his gaze.
“Shiki... Kaido... Charlotte Linlin…”
Shiki—the Golden Lion—was something of an old rival. Zephyr had crossed blades with him more than once. He knew just how terrifying that man’s strength was.
As for Big Mom and Kaido—while their sheer presence wasn’t quite as suffocating as Shiki’s, they were equally troublesome in different ways.
And then—
Zephyr’s eyes widened abruptly. His face twisted with confusion.
“What the hell—?!”
Suddenly, Charlotte Linlin leapt down from her thundercloud mount, Zeus.
In her hand, she grasped a blazing flame imbued with a sinister, humanlike smirk. Her fist, wrapped in searing fire, came crashing down—
—directly toward the massive dragon floating in the sky!
BOOM!!
Kaido, still in his dragon form, took the full brunt of the blow. Under Big Mom’s monstrous strength, his enormous blue-scaled head snapped downward like a meteor.
His bulging eyes nearly popped from his skull.
The colossal dragon body crashed into Marineford’s earth with a thunderous roll, crushing who-knew-how-many buildings and artillery stations in its wake. Dust and rubble exploded skyward.
“Damn it!! Linlin, what the hell are you doing!?”
The dragon bellowed in fury, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
Big Mom landed gracefully, her massive blade slung over one shoulder, and barked:
“Were you trying to kill Darren just now!? I told you—he's mine!!”
Kaido’s body rapidly shrank, shifting back into human form.
Rubbing his head, the towering man emerged from the crater with his black spiked kanabo slung over his shoulder. Snarling, he charged straight toward Big Mom.
“We both want to kill him! What’s the damn difference!? I’ll just take him out myself!!”
Big Mom rushed to meet him, roaring:
“I won’t let you kill him!!”
Their weapons crackled with black and red lightning—Conqueror’s Haki—and slammed toward each other.
BOOM!!
Kaido’s Hassaikai and Big Mom’s horned hat-blade Napoleon clashed—
—but they never touched.
Instead, a violent burst of black-and-red energy exploded between them.
In an instant, a shockwave of wild, seething power erupted from their clash, scattering lightning in all directions. Several Marine officers staggered back, arms raised to shield their faces, eyes wide in shock.
A full-blown Conqueror’s Haki clash!!
Above, the thick black clouds were ripped apart by the force, splitting open with deep, thunderous cracks.
“What the hell are those two doing!?”
“Why are they suddenly fighting each other!?”
“Wait—they’re arguing over how to deal with Commodore Darren!?”
“…”
The Marines stood frozen in disbelief, watching Big Mom and Kaido trade blows.
Even Zephyr’s brows furrowed in visible confusion as his gaze drifted toward Darren.
Kuzan, too, was looking at Darren with a puzzled frown.
Commodore Darren, meanwhile, stood perfectly still. Eyes to nose, nose to heart—serene as if none of this chaos involved him.
Just then, more figures raced in from the rear.
“Darren!!”
“Zephyr-sensei!”
“We’re here to join the fight!!”
Led by Gion and Tokikake, the Training Camp’s elite members arrived. Swords drawn, they zipped across the battlefield with Moonwalk and Soru, arriving behind the others in a blur.
Even they struggled to withstand the residual Haki waves from Big Mom and Kaido’s clash. Their faces were pale with awe and disbelief.
“So this is the power of legendary pirates…”
“Monstrous…”
“They don’t even seem human.”
“Kaido and Big Mom…”
They could hardly believe that such overwhelming monsters existed in this world—
—and even more unthinkable: their fellow trainee, their top-ranked peer—Darren—had already been fighting monsters like these!?
“Damn you, you crazy hag!! Why did you stop me from killing that damn bastard Darren!?”
Kaido’s furious roar snapped them out of their thoughts.
His face flushed bright red. Black hair flared wildly like a storm. His feet tore trenches into the ground as he skidded back, bracing against Big Mom’s force.
“He destroyed my home base!!”
“And this wasn’t even part of our plan! Didn’t you want to kill him too!?”
Kaido glared daggers at Big Mom.
“He even killed two of your sons!!”
Suddenly, Charlotte Linlin burst into girlish laughter—utterly unhinged.
“Who said I wanted to kill him?”
Kaido froze. “Didn’t you say ‘Darren is mine’!?”
Big Mom smirked.
“That’s right.”
She turned her head, gaze locking onto Darren through over a thousand meters of battlefield.
Her crimson tongue ran slowly across her red lips. Her eyes sparkled with terrifying possessiveness as she giggled:
“What I meant is... I want to have him.”
“I want Darren to be...
...my husband.”
The world stopped.
One full second of absolute silence.
Then—
“EH!!???”
Thousands of Marines, and even Kaido, let out stunned, thunderstruck screams like they’d been struck by lightning.
Kaido’s bulging eyes nearly fell out of his skull.
And in that split second of shock, the delicate balance between them shattered.
Big Mom lunged in with a snarl. Her Haki-coated fist slammed into Kaido’s gut with bone-crushing force.
BAM!
Kaido’s body flew backward, crashing through over a dozen buildings before slamming into the heart of a military bastion.
Cracks spiderwebbed across its thick stone walls. Yet Kaido pulled himself out of the rubble like it was nothing, face blank with disbelief.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Up in the sky, even the Shiki looked dumbfounded.
The Marines below all slowly turned as one.
All eyes locked onto the Marine Commodore—whose mouth was twitching violently.
Darren felt every eye on him.
This was... social death.
He fought to maintain a neutral expression, forcing back the urge to curl up in a hole. In a calm, righteous tone, he declared:
“Don’t worry, everyone.
I refused. Hard.”
“…”
Zephyr clutched at his heart, face twisted in agony.
Gion looked like she’d walked into a blizzard.
Borsalino’s smirk deepened with interest.
Sakazuki’s gaze darkened ominously.
Kuzan stared in pure admiration. “So cool...”
Everyone else was simply speechless.
Only Tokikake looked from the voluptuous, seductive Big Mom to Darren...
...then screamed with heartbreak:
“DAMN IT!! Why do the good things never happen to me!!”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 345: Chapter 247: The Name of the Black Arm
Chapter Text
No one paid the slightest attention to Tokikake, who was now crouched on the ground, weeping like a heartbroken pervert.
The entire battlefield fell silent.
Everyone stood frozen in place, faces blank with disbelief, as though they had just been struck by lightning. They couldn’t process what they had just heard.
One glance at Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin—her towering frame practically drooling over Darren with desire, then another glance at the solemn, righteous-looking Marine Commodore... and everyone’s mouths twitched uncontrollably.
The legendary pirate Big Mom had... set her sights on Commodore Darren!?
In that instant, a storm of thoughts raced through every Marine’s mind, clashing, spiraling, creating absolute chaos.
It was enough to make their brains overheat and smoke.
Darren’s battlefield record was stellar, his methods fierce, his talent unmatched. Ever since joining the Marines, both in regional postings and here at HQ, he had shown abilities that left others in the dust.
His brilliance had even outshone other so-called “monsters” like Rear Admirals Sakazuki and Borsalino, or even his training camp peer, Captain Kuzan.
That was a well-known fact.
But it was equally well known that Darren was also... the greatest disgrace in Marine history.
He was flamboyant with money, possessed obscene amounts of wealth that couldn’t possibly match his official salary.
And when it came to beautiful women? Darren never turned one down. Even back during his time in the North Blue, HQ had already heard whispers of his tastes.
As for Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin?
This woman, who carved out a vast empire in the New World called Totto Land, had risen to power through monstrous strength and a web of political marriages.
According to incomplete records, Charlotte Linlin had over twenty-five legal husbands!
One’s a shameless skirt-chaser, the other’s a mature dominatrix with more husbands than birthdays…
Both had bodies built like steel fortresses.
If you set aside the fact that they were enemies—pirate and Marine—then...
...damn it, they actually kind of matched!?
No—HELL NO!!
The Marines’ faces contorted in horror.
Zephyr’s expression darkened as his old, weathered face twisted. He stared at Darren with blazing intensity, fists clenching and unclenching.
And then—
ROOOAAAR!!
Kaido let out a thunderous, bestial howl.
“LIKE I GIVE A DAMN, YOU CRAZY HAG!! I’M GONNA SLAUGHTER THAT DAMN MARINE BRAT!!”
His pupils turned blood-red, laced with frenzied veins.
Muscles surged in his legs, and the ground cracked beneath his feet. In the blink of an eye, Kaido shot forward like a fired battleship cannon.
Darren’s pupils contracted slightly.
The surrounding Marines couldn’t even track Kaido’s movement. All they felt was a monstrous gale rushing past—and then that demon-like figure was right in front of Darren.
Purple lightning exploded across Kaido’s massive kanabo. The spiked club dragged his hulking body with it as he swung it down in one devastating strike.
“Thunder Bagua!!”
But just then—
A black combat boot suddenly stomped in from the side!
CLANG!
The boot slammed down on Kaido’s kanabo with terrifying weight, grinding it into the earth.
BOOM!!
The ground within a hundred meters instantly collapsed, spiderwebbed with fractures.
Debris flew. A furious windstorm kicked up the wide white cloak bearing the word “Justice.”
Everyone stood stunned.
“Zephyr-sensei!!”
Zephyr had stomped down on Kaido’s kanabo with full force. His black-armored fist, cloaked in jet-black Armament Haki, came crashing down toward Kaido’s stomach like a meteor.
“Darren might be a damn little bastard, but he’s my student!!”
His punch tore through the air, releasing rings of compressed wind like white shockwaves.
Kaido’s pupils shrank.
His body surged a full meter in size. Dark green dragon scales rapidly covered his skin. A thick dragon tail whipped out from his spine.
Hybrid form—Human-beast form!
“You old retired bastard—get the hell out of my way!!”
Kaido roared and slashed forward with a deadly dragon claw.
BOOM!!
Claw and fist collided in a violent explosion of force.
Sparks flew across Zephyr’s sunglasses. And in their reflection—
—was Kaido’s massive dragon tail swinging toward him like a falling stone pillar.
But in the next second, Zephyr caught it with one hand.
Kaido’s expression froze. His vertical pupils shrank to pinpoints.
This strength—he was being overpowered!?
Impossible!
He stared at Zephyr’s arms, encased in pitch-black armor-like Haki. For the first time, a chill ran down his spine.
“Been out of the seas too long, huh? Seems like people forgot who I am…”
Zephyr raised his cold, unflinching gaze.
“Kaido, you little punk... back when I ruled the seas, you were still scrubbing toilets on Rocks’ ship!!”
With that, Zephyr snarled and gritted his teeth.
Veins bulged across his arm as he gripped Kaido’s tail tight. His muscles swelled like boulders.
Then, in a single step forward—he swung Kaido’s entire body into the air...
...and hurled him like a boulder straight at Charlotte Linlin!!
“I’m the Black Arm Zephyr!!”
Caught off guard, Big Mom had no time to dodge. Kaido slammed into her with full force.
The two juggernauts flew like wrecking balls into a nearby military fortress, crashing through the walls in an explosion of smoke and debris.
“Kaido and Big Mom are mine—
—Darren, you take command of the battlefield!!”
Without waiting for a response, Zephyr charged forward again, raising his arm high as his voice thundered:
“Hold the line at Marineford—
—for JUSTICE!!”
His deep, powerful voice sent a wave of adrenaline through every Marine present.
They watched that short-haired, purple-headed figure charge forward—and their blood began to boil.
Those who once followed Zephyr, the “Black Arm,” into battle had tears of awe in their eyes. Their faces flushed red with emotion.
“That back... it’s been so long...”
Perhaps many of the younger Marines only knew Zephyr as a grumpy old drill instructor.
But the veterans remembered—
—the man who, with nothing but blackened fists and unstoppable charges, led them to countless victories on the open sea.
The title Black Arm wasn’t some exaggerated nickname.
It was a name earned with blood and war—fist by bloody fist.
“KILL!!”
“Follow Zephyr-sensei!!”
“CHARGE!!”
“FOR JUSTICE!!”
In an instant, the Marines’ war cry thundered through the battlefield.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 346: Chapter 248: One Versus Two?
Chapter Text
Amid the deafening cries and the thunder of boots, even more Marine reinforcements arrived. Dense ranks marched in from all directions, forming defensive formations across the battlefield.
“Fire!!”
“Artillery—now!!”
“...!”
The Marines launched their offensive. Muskets flared in bursts of flame. Cannoneers manned distant turrets, unleashing a storm of fire toward the three legendary pirates.
“How naive.”
The Golden Lion sneered with contempt, rising rapidly into the air.
His eyes gleamed with sinister crimson light. With an agility that defied his age, he weaved effortlessly between the blasts, dancing through the sky like a phantom.
Rumble... BOOM—!
Bullets and shells rained down like a typhoon, tearing into the ruins of the fortress. Dust and fire shot skyward in a hellish storm.
And yet, moments later—Kaido and Big Mom stepped out from the smoke, completely unscathed.
Bullets and shells struck them only to bounce off uselessly, or merely slow their steps for a moment. None of it inflicted any real damage.
“That actually stung...”
Kaido rubbed his head as he stumbled from the rubble, wincing. His eyes narrowed, gaze locking onto Darren in the distance. But then his expression darkened, turning toward another figure, half-shrouded in smoke.
That punch just now—it had burned. Through his monstrous body, he felt it. Pain.
“You two aren’t going anywhere. Don’t even think about it.”
A cold, weighty voice echoed across the field.
Zephyr stepped from the thick black smoke, the white cloak of justice billowing gently behind him. His eyes were sharp, deadly, fixed on the two pirates now blocked from Darren’s view.
“...Whether it’s his life—or his body.”
Kaido looked at the immovable former admiral standing like an iron wall before him. Then he turned and sneered at Big Mom.
“Oi, crazy hag... looks like this old bastard wants to fight both of us.”
Big Mom giggled, her voice husky and magnetic. She licked her lips.
“Mamamama~ Well, I suppose there’s no helping it, Kaido... it has been a while since we teamed up.”
“I’d love to just carry Darren away, but... it seems that’s not an option right now.”
“Still...”
She lifted her gaze toward the purple-haired Marine, smirking in mockery.
“Are you sure, retired Admiral Zephyr? You really think you can stop both of us?”
Zephyr’s gaze hardened as he looked at the two monsters standing side by side.
Kaido and Big Mom—beasts with bodies like fortresses. Even the Marines’ full firepower was barely a nuisance to them.
From their brief clash earlier, Zephyr could already tell: even Marine Vice Admirals would struggle to pierce their defenses.
If these two beasts broke through into the Marine ranks—or worse, the civilian zone—it would be a massacre. No one could stop them. Marineford would drown in blood.
Zephyr couldn’t let that happen.
And more importantly...
He knew he’d be at a disadvantage against the Golden Lion.
Sure, all three of them could fly—but compared to Kaido and Big Mom’s “brute force” flight, Shiki’s aerial agility was far superior.
If it came to close-quarters combat, Zephyr was confident he could bring Shiki down.
But Shiki was sly. He wouldn’t let him get that close.
So instead—he would lock down Kaido and Big Mom himself... and leave Shiki to Darren’s group.
After all, Darren and Borsalino could both fly at high speeds. With Sakazuki’s overwhelming offense and Kuzan’s control, they could stop the Golden Lion.
“Kaido of the Beasts... Charlotte Linlin, Big Mom... if I’m not mistaken, you’re both leftovers from the Rocks Pirates, aren’t you?”
Zephyr muttered, his voice low.
The two froze, then chuckled coldly.
“That’s right—but you weren’t there for the God Valley War, were you?”
Zephyr pulled a cigar from his uniform, lit it, and bit down.
“No... I wasn’t there.”
He looked down at his worn, calloused hands—the lines faded by time—and took a deep drag.
Then, after a moment’s silence, he grinned.
“I was never a hero.”
“But at the very least...”
He drew in a breath and raised his head high.
And then—under the startled eyes of Kaido and Big Mom—his aura began to rise.
Higher and higher. Fierce. Proud.
“I swear on my life—I will stop you here today!!”
The moment that resolve formed, Zephyr’s eyes blazed with ironclad will.
Jet-black Armament Haki coated his arms like steel. He rolled his wrists and neck, bones crackling like firecrackers.
“As for taking on both of you...”
He grinned, feral and reckless.
“How would I know I can’t—if I never try?”
With that—
His boots sank deep into the ground.
And in the instant he pushed off—
BOOM!!
The earth around him collapsed, a hundred meters in every direction torn asunder. Rock and soil exploded upward like a fountain.
Zephyr lunged like an unleashed beast, the cigar clamped between his teeth curling smoke as his mouth stretched into a wild grin.
He charged Kaido and Big Mom like a meteor.
“He’s coming!!”
Kaido tensed, gripping his kanabo. For a split second, even he felt nervous.
This man—this “retired old dog”—no longer carried any of the decay of age. Only unstoppable confidence.
“Mamamama! Then let’s begin!!”
Big Mom cackled, smacking an incoming shell aside as it exploded beside her.
“Soul Release!!”
She threw her arms wide.
Countless pale-white souls burst from her body, screaming in agony as they howled across the battlefield in a chill wind.
“I grant you souls—Arise, my servants!!”
Her voice rang out like a banshee wail. The air itself seemed to warp from the force of her sound.
The souls scattered—into the ground, into stones, into cannon wreckage and broken buildings.
And then—
The impossible happened.
One by one, lifeless objects began to move. Infused with her power, they sprang to life—twisted, monstrous forms that stomped the earth in unison.
Hundreds... thousands...
They surged toward the Marine lines in a terrifying tide.
“Bring me my husband!!”
Big Mom shrieked, laughing wildly. She gripped her massive sword—Napoleon—and charged beside Kaido.
And then—
BOOM!!
The three collided like stars falling to earth.
And the entire island...
...shook.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 347: Chapter 249: A Brutal War
Chapter Text
Rumble... BOOM!
Structures and artillery stations, injected with screaming souls, stirred to life—rising as towering beasts, some several meters tall, some over ten. They let out bone-chilling wails as they charged toward the Marine defenses.
One stone building grew massive rock arms, clenched into fists that swept aside a dozen Marines like rag dolls, debris flying everywhere.
A fortress, now half-possessed, twisted its own cannon into an arm and fired directly into a cluster of Marines, erupting in flames and screams, sending bodies flying.
From a distance, the soul-beasts surged like a tidal wave of war incarnate—unstoppable, overwhelming, tearing through earth and iron.
Grinning with grotesque, humanlike expressions, they crushed buildings, trampled the ground beneath their enormous feet, and shattered the Marine defense lines before anyone could react.
“Damn it... what are these things!?”
“They were lifeless objects—how are they moving!?”
“They’ve been given souls by Big Mom!!”
“Charlotte Linlin is a Soul-Soul Fruit user! She can extract people’s souls and infuse them into anything—turning even dead objects into loyal servants to fight for her!”
“Bullets are useless! Damn it!!”
“...!”
Marines fired frantically, but their musket rounds ricocheted off stone and steel. The soul-infused monsters barely flinched, the bullets leaving nothing but minor scuffs.
BOOM!
A cannonball roared through the air and exploded against one monster’s head. The blast cracked its skull and scattered smoke across the field.
The towering creature teetered—then collapsed in a heap.
“Use heavy artillery! Target their heads!!”
A grizzled Rear Admiral shouted, shouldering a portable cannon.
A savage scar cut across his cheek. His eyes were calm, commanding—a man forged by war.
That was Rear Admiral Novi.
One of Zephyr’s old comrades-in-arms.
With his call, the Marines quickly shifted tactics—ceasing their musket fire, they retreated just far enough to reposition and begin shelling from fixed turrets.
But the soul-beasts gave no ground.
They surged forward, relentless. The battlefield became a crush of bodies and monsters, with no room to maneuver.
“Damn it!! There’s no opening!!”
“Not enough cannons!”
“They’re too fast!!”
“...!”
The Marines staggered beneath the onslaught, lines crumbling by the second.
Suddenly—
A tall figure leapt above the chaos.
Long black hair danced in the wind. Her elegant form cut a perfect silhouette as the white cloak of Justice flared behind her.
CLANG!
A golden blade rang from its sheath, sharp and clear.
A burst of radiant swordlight sliced down upon a cannon-turned soul-beast.
SHING!
A clean vertical gash split the monster’s core.
It collapsed, cleanly bisected.
“That’s Commander Gion!!”
“A genius of HQ!”
“Her swordsmanship is incredible!!”
Amid cheers, Gion landed lightly, face expressionless—but her eyes dark with stormclouds.
These soul-beasts, created from rock and metal, were absurdly durable. Only their heads were true weak points.
Even if you sliced off their limbs, they’d simply absorb nearby material and regenerate.
“Well done.”
A raspy voice echoed nearby.
Gion turned.
It was a middle-aged Marine wearing a peaked cap.
One of his eyes was ghostly white—blind. In his hand was a massive two-meter blade, chipped and scarred from countless battles.
Vice Admiral Davosger.
Another of Zephyr’s old elite.
“Vice Admiral Davosger...” Gion murmured.
He gripped his chipped sword tightly. “Commander Gion, this kind of battle... it may be too soon for Training Camp cadets like yours.”
“But there’s nowhere left to retreat to,” Gion replied, voice low but unwavering.
Davosger paused—then chuckled.
“A true student of Zephyr, through and through...”
He raised his battered blade. His remaining eye locked on the soul-beasts charging through fire and smoke.
“Armament Haki can hurt these things. All Marines trained in Haki—step forward!”
WHOOSH!
Hundreds of Marines leapt from the crowd.
Their eyes sharp. Their movements decisive.
They moved to the front lines, unwavering.
Purple-black Haki shimmered over their weapons, coating each blade in an ominous sheen.
Face after face of steel determination. Eyes steady. These were the hardened elite of Marine HQ.
Davosger looked to Gion—and to the ranks of Training Camp officers behind her.
A wild grin cracked across his weathered face.
“Now... show us the results of your training!”
With those words, Davosger—age 45, semi-retired Vice Admiral—let out a primal roar and charged forward.
His scarred blade gleamed in the light of fire and fury.
“For Justice!!”
Not once did he tell the cadets to fall back—not once did he question their place on this battlefield.
Because Training Camp students were handpicked from across the seas. Already elite.
And after Zephyr’s instruction—their strength had skyrocketed. Nearly every one had mastered Haki.
More importantly—as Gion had said—
There was nowhere left to fall back to.
This was Marineford.
Even if it came to the last man—they would stand.
With Davosger’s furious charge, the Marine elites surged forth.
Their Haki-infused blades clashed head-on with the iron tide of soul-beasts.
Flesh and blood against monstrous steel—
And they held.
Meanwhile—
Those without Haki found their burden suddenly lightened.
Under orders from their commanding officers, they rushed to the turrets—dragging mobile cannons from the armory, taking aim, and bombarding the soul-beasts’ heads with relentless fire.
Marines were hurled, bodies crushed, monsters roared.
Artillery shook the battlefield of Marineford.
Cries, explosions, battle shouts, and cannon fire—
Blood sprayed. Rubble flew.
Everything blurred into a storm of violence and gore.
A brutal war...
...had begun.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 348: Chapter 250: Humans and Monsters
Chapter Text
“DIE, DAMN YOU!!”
A scruffy silhouette flipped through the air and landed squarely atop the twenty-meter-tall fortress monster’s head.
The towering beast—once a military stronghold—paused as if genuinely baffled by the tiny figure clinging to it.
“Don’t underestimate me!!”
Tokikake clenched the creature’s head between his hairy legs, fists wrapped in jet-black Armament Haki, and began raining down blows like a madman.
“I’m a genius of Marine HQ!!”
BOOM BOOM BOOM...!
Before the stunned eyes of nearby Marines, the monster’s head shattered under the brutal barrage. The fortress collapsed like a demolished tower, crumbling into countless stones.
“AAAHHHHH!!”
Tokikake rose from the rubble, eyes bloodshot, arms outstretched as fragments of stone tumbled from his body.
“Commander Tokikake... he’s strong...”
“His close combat skills...”
“As expected from HQ’s prodigy...”
“...”
The Marines stared in awe, and for a fleeting moment, Tokikake’s pervy, twitchy face seemed almost radiant—haloed in glory.
Then—
He raised his arms to the sky and roared in heartache:
“A beautiful mature woman like Big Mom… chose Darren over me!? UNFORGIVABLE!!”
THUD!
The surrounding Marines collapsed in unison, black lines streaking down their faces.
The “halo” shattered in an instant.
Before anyone could react, Tokikake had already stomped off, cursing, and charged another soul-beast.
Fueled by rage, he became a berserk whirlwind of destruction—tearing down soul-infused fortresses with his bare hands, shredding monsters into rubble wherever he passed.
…
"Inferno Peak!"
A blur streaked across the battlefield.
A monstrous creature had cornered several young Marines, its massive foot about to crush them into a bloodstain.
Suddenly—it froze.
SHHHHKK!
A searing sword slash exploded across its skull, flames bursting from the wound.
The monster trembled—then collapsed.
The trembling Marines looked up.
A man with a rough beard stood atop the smoldering corpse, a cigar between his lips, his voice calm and kind:
“You alright?”
They blinked, then nodded in unison.
But they couldn’t miss the blood dripping steadily from the man’s sword hand.
“Then do me a favor. Help evacuate civilians over there, would you?”
“Y-Yes, sir!!”
The Marines scrambled to their feet and ran, teeth clenched with resolve.
The bearded officer exhaled a stream of smoke and tightened his grip on his blade.
“Oi, Yamakaji—how’s it going over there?”
A cold voice echoed from the left.
The bearded man—Yamakaji—looked over and saw Onigumo approaching from atop a collapsed monster.
Blood dripped from Onigumo’s mouth. His gray-white hair writhed like spider legs, and eight sabers whirled around him with lethal precision.
“These things are tough,” said Yamakaji with a sigh.
He glanced around.
Strawberry, Dalmatian, Doberman—others from the Training Camp generation—were all locked in brutal combat.
The soul monsters Big Mom had created were enormous, terrifyingly strong. A single punch could level a building. Every step cracked the earth like thunder.
Just earlier, Yamakaji had blocked one of their strikes to protect fleeing civilians. His hand had split at the joint. His arm still throbbed with pain.
If not for Armament Haki reinforcing him, his bones would’ve been pulverized.
Not everyone was like Darren—that freak—who could fistfight giants bare-handed.
“Scared?” Onigumo asked, wiping blood from his lips.
Yamakaji chuckled.
He lifted his gaze to the distant sky.
There—four figures surrounded the proud Golden Lion, launching a coordinated assault.
From a distance, it looked like four vicious wolves were challenging the king of the jungle.
Each strike triggered shockwaves that shattered the earth for hundreds of meters.
Magma, light, ice, electromagnetism, swordlight—
The area surrounding those five had become a hellish war zone. No one else could even set foot there.
“Darren and Kuzan are under far more pressure than we are,” he murmured.
Onigumo frowned, narrowing his eyes.
“They’re monsters. We’re not.”
Yamakaji grinned.
“Monsters have their own way of fighting.
But us...
Humans have our duty.”
FWOOSH!
His sword blazed into flame, red fire dancing along the steel.
The glow cast bold shadows across his broad, resolute face.
His eyes turned toward that distant battleground—filled with admiration.
“I’d give anything... to fight beside them,” he whispered, tightening his grip.
Then—with no hesitation—he charged another towering beast head-on.
…
“Lion’s Might: Earth Surge!!”
The ground for hundreds of meters suddenly surged upward—shaping into a colossal lion over a hundred meters tall.
It roared, then snapped its jaws shut around a lone figure.
But—
FWOOM!!
A pillar of magma erupted from the lion’s belly, splitting the stone beast with blazing force.
Cracks raced across its massive body. Blinding red light leaked from within. Mi
BOOM!!
The lion exploded into molten rubble.
Lava spread across the battlefield, melting frost and fire alike.
Sakazuki stepped out of the magma one slow step at a time, blood trickling from his lip. He adjusted his cap and glared up at the Golden Lion.
“A legendary pirate...
...reduced to cheap parlor tricks?”
“Jihahahahaha...” Shiki roared with laughter, blades in hand. “Bleeding already, and still running your mouth, brat.”
But then—his pupils flashed crimson.
His eye twitched—
A blinding light gathered behind him. A white shoe spun through the air—
WHACK!
“You ever been kicked...
...at light speed?”
Borsalino’s voice oozed laziness as he phased into form, fingers stroking his stubble, one leg crashing down like a beam of divine judgment—
—aimed straight for the back of the Golden Lion’s skull.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 349: Chapter 251: The True Pirate
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A blistering kick of light speed bore down upon the back of his head, so fierce that it shattered the air into concentric white shockwaves.
“What a devious little brat...”
Golden Lion’s lips curled suddenly into a grim, savage grin. In the blink of an eye, his head jerked sideways.
Borsalino’s white leather shoe grazed past the ends of his flowing hair, and the burning beam of light plunged straight into the ground.
Boom!!
A military bastion erupted without warning. A column of blazing fire shot skyward, churning black smoke billowing up, while the searing shockwave unfurled across the battlefield.
“You timed it well—just a little too slow!!”
Golden Lion let out a thunderous laugh, spun around, and swung his blade!
A dazzling golden slash tore through Borsalino’s body, streaking across the air like a massive crescent moon before hurtling toward the distant sea.
At the instant the figure dissolved into light particles, the sea far away split open silently into a rift several kilometers long, only to be devoured again moments later by the surging tide.
“Elementalized in advance, huh?”
Golden Lion scoffed with disdain—when suddenly, a fierce wind surged overhead.
Darren had appeared above him like a ghost, his right leg lifted high above his head.
High-altitude gales lashed through the young Commodore’s black hair, his expansive white Justice coat whipping violently around him.
Armament Haki enveloped his military boot, and with the force of a war axe, he brought it crashing down!
Golden Lion’s expression didn’t shift. Crossing his twin blades in front of him—
Clang!
Boot and blades collided with a resounding crash, hurling a spray of blinding sparks.
“Jihahahaha! Darren, you little punk—your strength and Haki... you’ve grown even more since last time!!”
Golden Lion’s twin blades held Darren’s foot firm. His eyes gleamed with feral bloodlust as he burst into crazed laughter.
Darren’s eyes widened, teeth clenched hard. Every muscle in his body strained from the waist, pouring his full might into that crushing stomp.
“Get the hell down!!”
BOOM!!
A second explosion of brute force and Armament Haki shattered the sky.
Golden Lion’s figure plummeted like a meteor toward the earth.
At his impact point—
Kuzan and Sakazuki stood bathed in ice and magma, fists raised, launching simultaneous strikes!
“Jihahaha!! This is your so-called teamwork?!”
Golden Lion twisted in midair with impossible agility, laughing maniacally as he swung both swords at once.
Clang! Clang!
With Oto in his left, he blocked Sakazuki’s searing magma fist. With Kogarashi in his right, he shattered Kuzan’s freezing punch into shards.
The colliding shockwaves whipped into a frenzy. Veins bulged in both Sakazuki’s and Kuzan’s eyes as they pushed their Devil Fruit powers to the very limit!
BOOM! BOOM!
Crimson magma and pale blue ice surged upward in twin pillars on either side of the legendary pirate—split like heaven and earth.
Within the clash, opposing hemispheres of violent wind took shape—Armament Haki embedded in both elements—grinding madly toward Golden Lion.
“Jihahahaha! Still far too weak!! If you want to kill me, bring Sengoku and Garp with you—it’ll take more than just you brats!”
Golden Lion roared with wild laughter, a storm of invisible Haki bursting from his body and forming a transparent vortex that blocked the red and blue onslaught entirely.
“We’re not the only ones!!”
Kuzan, flushed red with strain, shouted at the top of his lungs.
Just then—a golden streak of light howled low across the battlefield.
The light converged into a form. In a near-ground glide, Borsalino appeared before Golden Lion in the blink of an eye.
Hands clasped, he conjured a radiant longsword forged from pure light.
“Ama no Murakumo!”
With one swift motion, Borsalino raised the blade high and brought it crashing down upon Golden Lion!
Time itself seemed to halt.
Everything slowed to a crawl.
The searing golden blade... reflected in Golden Lion’s pupils... growing ever larger—
Suddenly—
BOOM!!!
An unspeakable, overwhelming force erupted from the center of the battlefield, soaring into the heavens and piercing the clouds!
Sakazuki, Kuzan, and Borsalino felt as if the space around them had shattered. Cracks webbed through the air like broken glass, halting them all mid-movement.
In that instant, the entire island was blanketed in a black-red glow. The sky warped under the crushing weight of Conqueror’s Haki!
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!! The deafening snaps burst their eardrums. Black-red lightning flickered and vanished endlessly across the void.
Sakazuki’s pupils contracted.
Kuzan’s face turned pale.
As though something in the air had ruptured, a colossal ripple burst outward, coiling in fine arcs of lightning that wrapped around Golden Lion’s twin swords and swept in all directions.
Conqueror’s Haki—imbued and unleashed—surged with boundless power, sending shockwaves of black-red force slamming into Sakazuki’s and Kuzan’s chests.
A strike—through the air!!
Both men coughed blood mid-flight, blown backward.
“Jihahahahaha!!”
Golden Lion roared with manic glee.
CLANG!!
With a screech loud enough to burst eardrums, Oto and Kogarashi crossed together, narrowly blocking Borsalino’s descending blade of light.
Behind his sunglasses, Borsalino’s pupils tightened. He stared at the Golden Lion—now surrounded in black-red lightning, his aura towering, terrifying—like a demon god.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
But his speed never faltered. The instant his sword was blocked, his left leg swung low, trailing golden light, and kicked straight for Golden Lion’s gut.
“You yellow-clad brat! That kick of yours is still lacking!!”
Faced with Borsalino’s so-called ‘light-speed’ strike, Golden Lion didn’t budge—he launched a kick of his own.
But unlike Borsalino’s radiant technique, Golden Lion’s kick was wreathed in black-red lightning!
Conqueror’s Haki—imbued into his kick!
He had infused even his leg strike with Conqueror’s Haki!
BAM!!
Their legs collided with a deep, resonant thud—and the sharp sound of bones cracking.
More sweat rolled down Borsalino’s forehead. His body was hurled away like a golden comet, crashing into the central military bastion and blasting a massive hole through its fortified wall.
Flames roared. Smoke surged.
Winds screamed. Black-red lightning ran rampant.
Almost simultaneously, a violent gust struck from above—the pressure of the air warping under the descending three-fingered dragon claw that sliced through smoke like a spear.
It was Darren!!
Conqueror’s Haki surged from his body in a torrent, locking horns with Golden Lion’s overwhelming aura.
His movements were blindingly fast—his Dragon Claw Fist howled like thunder.
The only opening!
“Dragon’s Claw!!”
The strike descended!
Fueled by Darren’s inhuman strength, it fell like a meteor.
“You think it’s that easy?!”
Golden Lion sneered and curled a finger.
The ground beneath him surged upward into a towering tidal wave, covering his head and crashing toward Darren in an instant.
Even with the rare close-range opening, Golden Lion’s mastery of his Devil Fruit power allowed him to counter without hesitation!
RUMBLE!!
Massive chunks of earth clashed midair, shaking the heavens with their impact.
In the next breath—
A slash wrapped in black-red lightning burst through it all and shot into the sky.
Commodore Darren’s body flew backward from the landslide, a deep, bone-deep sword gash carved across his chest.
Before the stunned eyes of all present—
The rushing ground surged like a sea in reverse, forming into a towering lion that reached the heavens.
Atop the colossal beast, twin blades in hand, Golden Lion’s golden mane danced madly in the wind.
From his lofty perch, he looked down at the four gasping ‘monsters’ below, and laughed with vicious pride:
“You little Marine brats, raised in your warm greenhouses... You have no idea—how terrifying a true pirate really is!!”
“Jihahahahaha!!”
Beneath the pitch-black sky, black-red lightning crackled wildly.
The towering sea pirate cast a monstrous shadow that loomed over Marineford—swallowing it whole.
---
To be continued…
Notes:
Translator’s Note – Mid-Volume Pause
With Chapter 251 now published, we’re approaching the final stretch of Volume Two: The Golden Generation of The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History on Ao3, Wattpad, and Webnovel.
While Volume Two is already fully completed and freely available on my Patreon, the final chapters (Ch. 252–259) will be released here after a short break of about half a month.
I’m taking a small breather to rest and recharge before diving into the next arc. The journey ahead is long and intense, and I want to bring you my very best.
If you’d like to read the remaining chapters of Volume Two in the meantime, feel free to check out my Patreon (patreon.com/Bellirys), where all content is 100% free—no locked posts, no paywalls. You can also follow there as a free member to stay updated when I resume posting.
Thank you so much for reading, sharing, and sticking with the story. Your support truly keeps it alive.
I’ll see you again very soon.
— Bellirys
Chapter 350: Chapter 252: The Deal
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Wild winds howled and tore across the battlefield, streaks of black-red lightning flashing without pause.
Golden Lion Shiki stood high in the sky over Marineford, laughing with the defiance of a demon god.
Below him, smoke blanketed the scorched earth. Fire and war raged in every direction. Piles of corpses formed mountains beneath his feet, mangled limbs half-buried in rubble.
The Marines—and even the civilians watching from the distant edges of the city—stood frozen in horror, their bodies trembling. An unspeakable despair slowly spread through their eyes.
That day, the world once again witnessed the terrifying might of the pirates who bore the title of legend.
...
Elsewhere on the battlefield.
“Mamamama!! Worried about your student, Zephyr?!”
Big Mom cackled, catching the fleeting moment Zephyr lost focus. Gripping her enormous, flame-wreathed blade, she brought it down with brutal force.
“Napoleon: Emperor’s Blade!!”
A wave of blistering, scorching energy surged forward, twisting the very air with its heat.
Infused with the flames of Prometheus and shaped into twin horns, Napoleon had become a weapon of total destruction—every strike erupting in waves of fire.
“Damn it!”
Zephyr’s pupils shrank. Cursing under his breath, he crossed his arms over his chest, encased in Armament Haki.
BOOM!!
A surge of searing flame exploded outward, transforming the surrounding dozens of meters into a blazing inferno.
Zephyr’s figure shot backward from the sea of fire, his boots carving twin furrows into the charred earth.
But before he could even catch his breath, an explosive burst shattered the air above him—hurricane-force winds and roaring thunder cascaded down!
“Wororororo!! A weak spot!”
In full dragon form, Kaido’s eyes glowed with bloodthirsty crimson. He descended with a savage grin.
Both hands gripped his massive black kanabo, spiked and menacing, streaks of black-red lightning trailing from each swing. His jet-black hair flailed like serpents in a storm.
“Die!! Washed-up old men like you should just lie in the dirt!!”
The blow came down like a falling meteor.
“Three Realms Descent: Summon to Naraka!!”
A flicker of fury surged through Zephyr’s eyes.
Kaido’s attack was as fierce as lightning—and laced with Conqueror’s Haki. Formidable indeed.
Though his Haki lacked the sheer ferocity of Golden Lion Shiki’s, a direct clash would still put Zephyr at a disadvantage.
His eyes suddenly gleamed red. Observation Haki flared to the limit—projecting the next second into his mind.
In that narrow window—
Zephyr stamped both feet hard against the ground, shifting his stance at the last possible instant.
The lightning-laced kanabo slammed down beside his flapping Justice coat.
The spiked Hassaikai struck deep into the earth.
RUMBLE!!
A quake rippled through the land.
Black-red lightning burst from the impact, sending a devastating shockwave radiating for over a kilometer.
At the point of impact, the terrain collapsed a full meter downward, dozens of jagged cracks spidering outward as rocks flew in every direction.
His sure-kill blow had missed. A flash of surprise crossed Kaido’s eyes.
“Young brute... strength alone is never enough!”
A furious roar exploded from the cloud of dust.
In the next heartbeat, a thick, rough arm burst forth—racing toward Kaido, reflected in his wide, shrinking pupils.
Zephyr, fierce as a rampaging tiger, smashed through stone and smoke alike. His calloused hand opened wide and grabbed Kaido’s head in a crushing grip.
“This guy...!”
Kaido’s heart jolted.
It wasn’t until he clashed in true hand-to-hand combat that he realized the overwhelming pressure this unassuming former Marine Admiral gave off.
Perfected technique, unshakable Armament Haki, and battle instincts honed over countless wars—tempered through fire and blood.
He stood like an immovable mountain.
No matter how powerful Kaido’s strength or Haki were, he couldn’t surpass it.
Zephyr gritted his teeth hard. Behind his sunglasses, blood welled in his eyes. With a guttural roar, he slammed his hand down.
BOOM!!
Kaido’s skull met the ground with earth-shattering force. The fractured terrain caved completely beneath him, unleashing ripple after ripple of violent quakes.
Shards of stone exploded into the air.
Blood streamed from Kaido’s nose and mouth. His dragon-pupiled eyes lost focus for a moment—stars danced before his vision.
“Mamamama!!”
A shrill laugh echoed from above.
“Mama Raid!!”
Big Mom’s towering figure twisted midair with surprising grace, and in a flash she was upon Zephyr—both hands bringing her sword down with savage weight!
CLANG!!
Zephyr raised his arms to block. Sparks flew as he gritted his teeth and was forced back.
A numb, swelling ache spread through his arms. Zephyr swore under his breath.
Whether Big Mom or Kaido—both of them possessed inhuman physiques. They even surpassed full-grown giants in durability. Absolutely monstrous.
Luckily, while Kaido had reached Admiral-level in sheer power, his fighting skill and Haki control still lagged—especially compared to Big Mom.
Still, their monstrous stamina and recovery left Zephyr feeling increasingly constrained.
A thin trickle of blood slid down his lip. Zephyr glared darkly at Big Mom, who now stood confidently with her greatsword resting on her shoulder. Nearby, Kaido groaned, staggering to rise from the crater.
“Damn Marines... that really hurt.”
Kaido muttered in his deep voice, wiping blood from his face. His eyes bore into Zephyr, full of vicious rage.
“Mamamama... Still breathing? Then get back up, Kaido.”
Charlotte Linlin cackled, then cast a playful glance toward Zephyr, pointing into the distance.
“Zephyr, are you sure you want to waste your time with us here?”
“Your precious students... they won’t last much longer.”
“Let’s make a deal. Hand over Darren, and I’ll leave with him and Kaido.”
Before Zephyr could reply, Kaido’s head snapped toward her in disbelief. He growled in anger:
“You crazy hag, what the hell are you talking about?! I don’t take orders from you!!”
“Kaido, don’t forget—you still owe me a big favor.”
Big Mom chuckled.
Kaido paused, teeth grinding. His expression twisted in hesitation—and then, unexpectedly, he said nothing more.
Only then did Big Mom turn back to Zephyr, smiling again.
“See that? All you have to do is hand over Darren, and Kaido and I will leave.”
“That way, you’ll be free to stop that lunatic Shiki. Otherwise... your students won’t survive him.”
She licked her crimson lips and let out a soft laugh.
“Don’t worry, I won’t kill Darren. I couldn’t possibly. After all... what a perfect man he is.”
---
To be continued…
Notes:
I took a short break after the last update, but I’m back now and ready to continue. From here on, I’ll be posting the final chapters of Volume Two – The Golden Generation without long pauses, so we can reach the end of this volume together. Thank you for your patience and for sticking with the story — it means a lot to me.
Chapter 351: Chapter 253: The Graduation Exam
Chapter Text
The wind scattered the smoke. Dust danced through the air.
“Isn’t this a very reasonable deal, Zephyr?”
Big Mom’s eyes—shaded beneath long lashes—were locked with interest on the slightly winded former Marine Admiral in the distance. She giggled softly:
“I don’t want Darren’s life. I just want him to be my husband.”
“Otherwise, you must realize—those four Marine brats won’t stand a chance against Shiki if this keeps up.”
“And besides, facing both me and Kaido at once… haven’t you about reached your limit?”
Big Mom wore a look of absolute confidence. Her voice carried a strange allure—almost magical in its persuasion.
She had little real interest in destroying Marine HQ. The reason she accepted Shiki’s offer to join forces was simple: she wanted to take Darren.
But what she hadn’t expected... was for this plan, which should’ve been effortless, to be obstructed by Zephyr—the former Marine Admiral.
What surprised her even more was the strength he displayed. Even Big Mom found him troublesome to deal with.
Though she and Kaido had the upper hand, defeating Zephyr wouldn’t be quick—or painless.
And if Zephyr, in a desperate last stand, managed to seriously injure her… could she really trust Shiki not to turn on her in that moment?
They may have once shared the same ship under the Rocks Pirates, technically “comrades.” But how much trust or loyalty there truly was—only the heavens knew.
If trust had truly existed, the Rocks Pirates would never have been destroyed at God Valley.
Scorching wind howled across the broken earth.
Big Mom stood smiling, waiting patiently.
Kaido’s expression flickered—grim, uncertain. His grip on his kanabo tightened, loosened, then tightened again, murderous intent surging.
But just then, Zephyr suddenly ceased breathing heavily.
His cigar had long since burned to ash. He pulled another from his coat, lit it, and clenched it between his teeth.
“No. The ones who don’t understand... are you.”
A faint smile tugged at Zephyr’s lips. Slowly, he lifted his head and removed his cracked sunglasses, revealing a pair of timeworn yet fiercely burning eyes.
A dark, imposing layer of Armament Haki once again flowed over his arms, like ink-black water drawn upward.
“Monsters are called monsters... because every single one of them possesses talent and willpower that rivals—or surpasses—yours.”
He drew in a deep breath, straightened his spine, and opened his black-coated arms wide. As his aura surged, the Justice coat behind him billowed skyward without wind.
“Sakazuki...”
He stepped forward.
BOOM!!
In the distance, a crimson pillar of magma erupted toward the sky, as if answering his voice.
Zephyr took another step.
“Borsalino...”
A streak of golden light howled across the ground.
“Kuzan...”
Frost spread slowly over the far-off battlefield, ice crystals glittering in its wake.
With each step, Zephyr spoke a name. With each name, his voice grew firmer, his eyes more resolute—overflowing with unwavering trust.
“And Darren.”
At that moment, a lone figure rose from the shattered earth. Black hair drifting in the wind, eyes full of defiant strength.
Zephyr’s stride quickened into a run. He charged straight toward Big Mom and Kaido!
Each step shattered the ground beneath him, his momentum surging skyward!
Though it was a charge of one man—he carried the force of a thousand troops!
“Young men called ‘monsters’... and the new generation who follow justice without hesitation—”
Zephyr laughed boldly, cigar clenched in his teeth, a fierce curve tugging at his lips.
“They were never hothouse flowers!”
Through the keen perception of his Observation Haki, images bloomed vividly in his mind:
Gion, cleaving apart soul beasts with a single slash;
Tokikake, demolishing everything in his path;
Burning passion from Yamakaji’s fire;
Cold, calculated strikes from Onigumo;
Fierce, sweeping attacks from Doberman;
And Dalmation, a master of technique…
One by one, bloodied young figures hurled themselves into battle, blades drawn without fear—just like their predecessors—protecting the land beneath them, and the homes behind them.
“Each and every one of them is fighting. They are the future of the Marines!”
Zephyr laughed without restraint.
“As their teacher... I have never once doubted their strength!!”
Veins of blood rapidly crawled across the whites of his eyes. Grinning madly, he growled:
“Justice... leaves no room for compromise or negotiation!!”
“I was going to prepare a graduation mission at sea for them... but now that’s unnecessary.”
In a flash, he was upon Big Mom and Kaido. His black-coated arms thundered forth like cannonballs, piercing the air and erupting in rings of violet-black shockwaves.
“This war—
—is their graduation exam!!”
BOOM!!
A massive column of dust and force surged skyward.
…
The ground trembled like a landslide approaching. Quakes rippled beneath their feet.
Darren stood tall, brow furrowed. His eyes instinctively flicked toward where Zephyr-sensei had charged.
Had the final showdown begun?
Zephyr was forty-four years old—still at the peak of his physical and combat capabilities. With his mastery of Armament Haki, holding off Big Mom and Kaido for a time shouldn’t be impossible.
After all, Kaido at this point was not yet thirty—his power still climbing, far from the level of the future Yonko.
“Stop daydreaming. That old man’s got a hell of a life force.”
A low, hoarse voice came from the left.
Sakazuki walked out of a pillar of magma, eyes cold, gaze locked on the airborne Golden Lion. His entire arm steamed, magma boiling.
“Our opponent... is that one.”
His voice squeezed through gritted teeth, each word like a nail hammered through the air—filled with murderous intent.
“Looks like this time... we really are fighting to the death.”
From the right, Kuzan emerged—half his body turned to ice, a visible breath of cold mist escaping his lips.
The playful, indifferent gleam in his eyes was gone. Replaced by a chill that even his ice couldn’t match.
“Well... he is one of the legendary great pirates.”
From behind came Borsalino’s leisurely drawl.
His face wore that same languid smirk—but with an odd, eerie edge.
“Broke my shin with a kick. That’s... really scary.”
His white trousers were stained with blood at the lower right leg.
Darren blinked at their expressions.
Then he laughed.
Those three... were serious now.
“Well then...”
He raised his head and offered a chilling smile toward the airborne Golden Lion, his gaze full of killing intent.
“Congratulations, Golden Lion... you’ve managed to piss off all four of us.”
Arcs of blue lightning crackled across the surface of the young Commodore’s body.
“Now begins... round two.”
---
To be continued…
Chapter 352: Chapter 254: Shackles Broken
Chapter Text
At Darren’s words, the corner of Golden Lion’s mouth curled into a mocking smirk—ready to sneer.
But the next moment, his brows furrowed.
Because of their eyes.
The gazes of those four Marine brats… had changed.
Suddenly—
“Ice Ball!!”
Kuzan was the first to strike. With a raised hand, he fired several gleaming white ice pillars straight at Golden Lion.
A wave of freezing air surged forward. A red gleam flickered in Golden Lion’s pupils—his Observation Haki instantly predicting the path of the attack.
“Jihahahaha! That kind of trick won’t work on me!!”
He shifted slightly to the right. The pillars of ice howled past, barely grazing his clothes.
But in the very next instant—Golden Lion’s grin froze.
With a cold shout from Kuzan, the passing ice pillars suddenly exploded into a flurry of glittering shards.
The ice crystals disintegrated into a sweeping wave of frost. The air visibly crystallized, covering Golden Lion’s body and garments in a layer of spreading frost.
A biting chill sank deep into his skin, invasive and relentless, slowing the flow of blood in his veins.
Golden Lion frowned. A spiraling cyclone of Armament Haki burst from his body, rapidly dispelling the cold that had seeped into his muscles.
At that moment, a streak of gold suddenly soared into the sky.
The dazzling light expanded violently in the dusky heavens—transforming night into blazing day.
Borsalino floated high above, arms outstretched, fingers pinched in an orchid formation. His body bathed entirely in golden radiance.
“Yasakani no Magatama!!”
With those words, a storm of searing light bullets rained down with devastating force.
Golden Lion’s brow lifted. Like a flying beast, he shot forward with incredible speed, weaving between the barrage of light.
But then—dozens of heavy cannons embedded in the battlefield suddenly shifted direction, opening fire wildly along his flight path.
With the sky raining down bullets of light, and all paths ahead sealed by cannon fire—Golden Lion grit his teeth. Abruptly, he halted in mid-air and swept both blades outward with a sharp gleam.
“Senkokuya!!”
Whoosh!!
RUMBLE!!
Dozens of golden slashes burst forth, tearing through everything in their path. The ferocious cutting force carved out a zone of vacuum, colliding with the barrage—and detonating in massive bursts of flame.
Flames roared skyward. The aftermath of the slashes swept across the earth, silently cleaving buildings and ground into pieces.
“Jihahahaha!! I thought you’d try something clever, but it’s still just cheap tricks!!”
Golden Lion’s figure flickered between firelight and smoke, laughing wildly:
“If that’s all you’ve got, then there won’t even be a second round!!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth—
A figure bathed in magma burst through the black smoke. At unimaginable speed, he appeared directly before Golden Lion.
Sakazuki!
Boiling crimson magma surged up his right arm, swelling like a volcano ready to erupt.
At the sight of him, a cold, cunning glint flickered in Golden Lion’s feral eyes.
These four Marine brats were stronger than expected. If he couldn’t finish them quickly—if Sengoku that bastard returned—he’d lose his chance.
Zzzzzz…
Black-red lightning exploded around him once more, enveloping both blades.
“Jihahahaha!! You’re throwing your life away!!”
One blade swept down.
Infused with Conqueror’s Haki—an unstoppable strike!
To Sakazuki, it felt like the very world was fracturing under this blow. The space before him cracked like a shattered mirror—distorting and collapsing into chaos.
No question: if this strike landed cleanly, he’d be gravely injured—maybe even killed.
And yet—beneath his Marine cap, Sakazuki’s expression remained unchanged.
His eyes were as cold as ever—utterly unfazed by the incoming blade.
Golden Lion’s pupils shrank.
A chill of unease stabbed into his gut.
The blade came down!
And then—something strange happened.
At the moment the blade tore through the air, it seemed to strike an invisible barrier. The air visibly warped, as if being ripped.
A strange, indescribable force clutched the sword—sapping its momentum. Golden Lion felt half the strength of his strike vanish.
Blue arcs of electricity flickered along Oto’s blade.
What…?!
His eyes widened.
Out of the corner of his vision, he caught sight of the young Marine Commodore on the ground.
Darren stood with both hands raised. Sparks danced between his fingers. His teeth clenched tight—blood streamed from his nostrils and mouth.
He had pushed his Devil Fruit to its limit—utterly overdrawn his strength.
Magnetic Overload: Magnetic Manipulation!!
Shhhh!!!
The blade finally struck.
Blood sprayed. The lightning-wrapped blade buried deep into Sakazuki’s chest—ripping through magma and flesh, cutting to the bone.
Sakazuki’s face turned deathly pale.
But a wicked gleam rose in his cold eyes, and a vicious smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.
His long-prepared fist lashed out with thunderous speed—like a volcanic eruption.
“Hellhound!”
Magma roared from his arm—hurtling straight for Golden Lion’s head!
Golden Lion’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.
That strike radiated pure death.
More terrifyingly—in his Observation Haki, the aura of this Marine brat… had broken through something.
He had stepped into a new realm entirely!
“Not so easy!!”
Golden Lion’s Devil Fruit power burst forth—yanking his body violently backward.
Shhht!!
The magma fist grazed his chest—nearly piercing through his neck!
The searing heat scorched skin and muscle, leaving a charred, bloody mess over his chest.
“Aaaaaghhh!! Damn magma brat!!”
Golden Lion roared in agony. Bloodshot eyes wide, he reversed his grip on his blade.
Kogarashi—his other sword—crackled with black-red lightning, raised to cleave Sakazuki in two.
“Now!!”
Sakazuki’s voice came like a demon’s snarl.
As the words left his mouth—a flash of gold split the air.
Borsalino’s form flickered into view behind Golden Lion. Gripping the Ama no Murakumo, he slashed at the pirate’s lower back.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized—nearly identical in speed.
“Still think I’m too slow this time?”
Borsalino smiled lazily.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 353: Chapter 255: Planetary Destruction!?
Chapter Text
The searing heat burning across his back made Golden Lion grit his teeth.
This yellow-cloaked brat… he really had gotten faster!
A wild, unthinkable notion flashed through his mind—
Could it be… this cunning brat had also stepped into that realm!?
But there was no time to dwell.
If he brought his blade down, he could undoubtedly gravely wound—or even kill—the magma brat. But he'd be skewered by that devious yellow one from behind.
No hesitation. In that instant, Golden Lion made his choice.
He twisted mid-swing, reversing his grip to block Borsalino’s descending Ama no Murakumo.
“You hesitated.”
Borsalino’s mouth curved into a slow, intrigued grin.
Golden Lion blinked.
And then—his entire vision was consumed by blinding gold.
A burst of radiant light erupted from Borsalino’s body, dazzling him into momentary blindness. His vision vanished. Tears streamed from his reddened eyes.
“AAAAHHH!! Damn you all!!”
Roaring in fury, Golden Lion thrashed wildly, his golden mane flying like wildfire.
A storm of overwhelming Conqueror’s Haki exploded from his body—crashing down upon all of Marineford like a tidal wave.
Hellish winds howled across the land. Black-red lightning tore through the skies, flickering into and out of existence.
The ground collapsed in waves, as if struck by a tsunami. Cracks spread in all directions—gaping like maws to the abyss.
Sakazuki and Borsalino, the closest to the blast, grunted under the impact. Their bodies rippled as if turning to magma and light, and they were blown back—forcing distance between them.
Darren stood on the trembling earth, gasping for breath. One arm raised to block the oncoming shockwave, his eyes narrowed with solemn intensity.
Golden Lion—he truly was one of the sea’s apex legends.
Swordsmanship. Haki. Physical strength. Tactical judgment. Combat instincts. All of it—near flawless.
Even with intense training, even with mastery of Observation Haki, the loss of vision in combat triggered panic in most humans.
But Golden Lion didn’t falter.
Even blinded, in the instant of mortal danger—he reacted on instinct and pure will, releasing Haki strong enough to drive back two of Marine HQ’s strongest.
“Still… the tide has turned.”
A grin tugged at Darren’s lips. His gaze shifted forward.
There—Kuzan landed hard on one knee. His hand slammed to the ground, eyes glinting cold and merciless.
“Ice Age!”
Whoosh—!
Without a sound, everything ahead turned to pure white.
If one were to view from above, they’d see a wave of frost erupting outward from Kuzan—spreading faster than thought.
Fire, rubble, falling forts, bullets in midair—all of it froze solid in seconds.
Everything in view turned to unyielding ice.
The frozen crystals surged against Golden Lion’s raging Haki, spiraling upward—and then sealed his entire body in a cocoon of frost.
“Freeze!”
Blood vessels burst in Kuzan’s eyes as he growled.
Blood flowed from his mouth, nose, ears—even his eyes. His veins bulged on his forehead and hands. He had pushed his Devil Fruit to the brink.
The ice spiraled, layered, and piled atop itself—until a towering mountain of crystalline blue stood a hundred meters tall.
Inside—Golden Lion, frozen mid-roar, body wreathed in black-red lightning, was encased in lifelike detail—like a demon trapped in sculpture.
“Did it work?”
“What power...”
“That’s HQ’s monster for you…”
“…”
Voices trembled in awe across the battlefield.
But then—crack!
A sharp sound echoed from within the ice.
Snap.
Hairline fractures crept across the mountain’s surface, spreading rapidly.
In less than two seconds, the entire structure was riddled with jagged cracks.
Black-red lightning arced from the gaps.
Kuzan, his arms turned to frozen pillars, stared in horror. He was at his limit.
Golden Lion—still alive—was breaking free through sheer force of will.
“Darren!!”
But Darren had already moved.
He stood tall, eyes wide, arms spread.
Blue arcs of electricity surged across his skin—magnetic energy spiraling into a field of invisible force.
RUMMMBLE…
The entire island of Marineford trembled—shuddering beneath an unseen force.
“Get the hell—UP!!!”
Blood streamed from Darren’s mouth. His eyes bled tears of red.
The magnetic field ignited.
Before stunned eyes—
Turrets.
Massive steel cannons.
Twisted girders wrenched from ruins.
Countless broken swords scattered across the battlefield—
All of it—every metal object—was drawn upward by an invisible hand.
The sky blackened as the swarm rose—like a plague of locusts.
They spiraled around the frozen figure, converging with terrifying speed.
One, two, ten, hundreds…
Twisting. Wrapping. Pressing.
They rose into the air—fusing.
In the dead silence that followed, a vast sphere of black metal hung in the sky.
Thirty meters wide. A miniature dark moon.
Cold. Heavy. Inescapable.
“Magnetic Prison…”
Darren whispered hoarsely, blood dripping from his lips.
He raised his arm.
CRACK!
With a single gesture, he clenched his fist.
Blue lightning raced across the sphere’s surface.
Metal plates shifted, slammed together, compressed—
The entire ball trembled as it sealed shut.
“—Annihilation.”
A sizzling hum rose from deep within.
Bright red droplets seeped from the cracks—dripping slowly into the air.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 354: Chapter 256: Now This... Is Your Real Hell
Chapter Text
The battlefield was steeped in deathly silence.
Not a single breath stirred the air.
Even the Marines locked in desperate battle with soul monsters froze in place—all eyes lifted skyward, widened in sheer disbelief at the sight above.
That massive black sphere suspended in the heavens... now weeping blood.
Scarlet liquid seeped from its cracks, trailing like tears down its uneven surface—staining it a gruesome shade of dark red. It looked like something torn from the pages of a nightmare.
“Did it work…?”
“No one could survive that kind of attack…”
“He must’ve been crushed—down to his bones…”
And it wasn’t just the Marines.
Far off on another part of the ruined battlefield, Big Mom and Kaido—locked in combat with Zephyr—stiffened at the sight, a flicker of disbelief flashing across their faces.
Could it really be?
Could those four Marine brats… have pushed the Golden Lion this far?
But then—
Thud. Thud. Thud…
Heavy footsteps echoed across the ruined plain.
All eyes snapped toward the sound.
And then, like a devil rising from hell, a figure drenched head to toe in blood launched upward from the cracked earth.
A brutal, gaping wound slashed across his chest—deep enough to expose bone. Blood soaked his uniform, dripping in thick rivulets. Behind him, his Justice cloak fluttered violently in the burning wind, its scarlet stains soaked deep with iron and rage.
At the center of his chest… a blood-red rose bloomed beneath torn fabric, swaying in the smoke and storm.
Sakazuki.
“Go to hell, Golden Lion Shiki!!”
His roar was like a demon’s bellow. Fury blazed in his eyes, enough to freeze any sane man’s soul.
His right arm swelled, veins bulging, magma boiling—until a pillar of fire and ash burst outward from his fist.
An erupting volcano—hurled skyward.
A blazing red fist of molten death tore toward the “blood moon” floating overhead.
He didn’t care whether Darren’s magnetic attack had succeeded or not.
He would reduce it all to ash. Leave nothing behind.
“Great Eruption!!”
The punch tore through the sky.
The air warped and screamed in protest, superheated by the magma’s fury.
But just then—
CRACK!!
Black-red lightning erupted from the bleeding sphere, tearing it apart into thousands of fragments.
From within that disintegrating orb—
Two blades. Wreathed in Conqueror’s Haki.
They slashed outward, dragging trails of black-red lightning—shattering the metal rain and meeting Sakazuki’s fist head-on!
BOOM!!
The collision rocked the heavens.
Magma met steel in midair—blades clashing with a volcanic fist. Shockwaves burst outward in every direction, leveling the land like a tidal wave made of wind.
The earth shattered.
Debris surged like ocean waves, rising in layers.
Only now did everyone finally see him clearly.
Golden Lion.
His skin was torn and mangled. Blood dripped steadily. His face twisted in pain and rage, his eyes like those of a vengeful ghost.
Crackling with black-red lightning, his aura still loomed enormous—but his presence… had waned.
Observation Haki revealed it clearly:
His life force had dropped by half.
He was grievously wounded.
“You little bastards… You dared to force me to this point!?”
His voice dripped with hate. His bloodshot eyes gleamed with murder.
“I won’t let you—”
Bzzzz!
A golden laser punched clean through his abdomen—bursting from his back and crashing into the sea, sending up a geyser of foam.
Golden Lion jerked. Blood spewed from his mouth.
He turned, wild eyes locking on Borsalino.
The latter sat slumped against a shattered wall, barely upright, a faint grin on his lips. His index finger still pointed toward the sky.
“Forgive me… I couldn’t move anymore,” he said weakly. “Had to do it this way…”
“Damn you!!”
Golden Lion howled, rage swallowing his voice.
His twin blades, wrapped in Conqueror’s Haki, swept down with a scream of force.
SWOOSH!!
A single, enormous slash—like a crimson whip from the heavens—descended upon Sakazuki, striking him down into the shattered ground.
BOOM!!
Half the harbor cracked open. Earth shook violently. Dozens of buildings collapsed into clouds of dust and debris.
But as the slash fell, Golden Lion stumbled.
His face went pale. Blood gushed from his lips.
His injuries… they were catching up to him.
Darren’s attack. Borsalino’s laser. Sakazuki’s eruption. All of it…
He was falling.
“No… no…”
His vision blurred. Blood dyed his eyelids red. He coughed violently, body shuddering.
But still—his eyes found Darren.
The young Marine stood among the rubble, barely upright. Pale as death. Breath ragged.
At his limit.
“You… It’s all because of you…”
Golden Lion sucked in a breath. His eyes glinted with the chill of execution.
“I’ll kill you…”
“Shiki!!!!”
A roar shattered the air, echoing across the sea.
Golden Lion froze mid-motion.
The Marines turned—eyes wide—toward the ocean.
A battleship surged toward them at top speed, engines roaring, hull stripped of weight to push it faster.
At the prow, standing tall, his body gleaming with gold…
A giant of a man, surrounded by flickering black-red lightning.
Marine Admiral Sengoku, the Buddha.
And behind him—two silent, masked figures in white silk robes.
CP0.
The World Government’s most secretive force.
“You’re not escaping!!”
Sengoku’s voice crashed like thunder. He unleashed his Haki freely, shaking the air.
Golden Lion’s pupils shrank.
If he were caught by Sengoku now…
No—Sengoku had no flight ability.
He could still escape!
But then—
His eyes flicked back to Darren.
The brat stood watching him.
And at the corner of his mouth… a smile.
Faint. Cold.
For some reason, it chilled him to his core.
A bad feeling twisted in his gut.
Did that brat still have another trick?
No. Even if he did—what of it?
He still had three top-tier allies!
Kaido and Linlin were still—
Wait.
Where were they?
He turned.
And his heart nearly burst.
As Sengoku and CP0 appeared—
Kaido and Big Mom had already disengaged.
One became a massive dragon, soaring skyward.
The other rode a thundercloud.
Retreating.
“Those cowardly bastards!!”
Golden Lion roared, teeth grinding in fury.
Too late.
That thought stabbed through his mind.
With a snarl, he rose—his battered body lifting higher into the sky.
From on high, drenched in blood, he looked down at Marineford—reduced to rubble.
With Big Mom’s retreat, her soul beasts lost their power. Their spirits vanished, and their bodies—mere stone and steel—crashed to earth.
On the scorched ground below—
Wounded Marines stood with blades dug into the dirt, holding themselves up by sheer will.
One by one, they rose.
Darren. Kuzan. Borsalino. Sakazuki—climbing from the fissures.
All four stood at the front of the formation. Battered. Bleeding. Unbroken.
They stared up at him.
Fire sparked in the space between their gazes.
Golden Lion… smiled.
A cruel, mocking smile.
“You naive little Marines… you think you’ve won?”
At those words—
Sengoku’s eyes widened.
As if he sensed something terrible.
“Jihahahahaha!!”
Golden Lion threw his head back and laughed like a madman.
“Then open your eyes wide—”
He raised his arm high.
“This… is your real hell!!”
And at that instant—
A distant rumble rolled through the clouds.
“No way…”
The Marines looked up—faces freezing in horror.
From behind the clouds—
A vast shadow emerged.
Black. Endless.
It pierced the sky.
The clouds parted—
SHHHHRRRK!!
The heavens split.
The shadow spread.
And the sun vanished.
Half of Marineford fell into darkness.
A sickness of fear swept across the land.
Because looming above them—
Was an island.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 355: Chapter 257: A Mantis Blocking a Chariot
Chapter Text
The entire world fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone involuntarily held their breath, their expressions stricken with horror.
Rumble rumble rumble...
The muffled roar of the air gradually swelled into something grand and majestic—until it became deafening.
"This... this can't be..."
"This isn't real, right...?"
"A—An island..."
"An island... floating in the sky..."
"Can we... really survive this?"
"This is... a power that could destroy the entire world..."
An enormous shadow loomed over more than half of Marineford, blotting out the sky. A darkness unlike any before began to spread slowly over their heads.
Tens of thousands of Marines at headquarters stood frozen, heads tilted upward, watching in stunned terror as the colossal island began its descent from the heavens. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably.
Clang—
A young Marine's saber slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.
Then came a chain reaction of crisp, metallic thuds.
Swords dropped from countless hands as blank, terrified eyes stared upward, faces drained of all color.
They stood motionless amid the ruins, gaze unfocused, like puppets whose souls had been torn from them—lifeless in the wind.
One female Marine, her will too fragile to endure it all, collapsed to her knees with a thud and burst into sobs.
It was an island!!
If it fell, Marineford would be flattened entirely—perhaps even swallowed by the sea itself!
In the face of such power—enough to "destroy the world"—fighting or fleeing had long since become meaningless.
Farther away, in the direction of the civilian evacuation zone...
Countless citizens stared in horror at this apocalyptic scene. Their legs gave out beneath them.
They abandoned their attempts to flee. Children began to cry. Lovers clung to one another. Families embraced tightly, each person holding their dearest ones as if it would be the last time.
"Shiki, you damned madman!!"
Sengoku raised his bloodshot eyes to the sky and let out a roar of pure rage.
"Jihahahaha!! Sengoku, this is my gift to you all!"
High above, the Golden Lion laughed with near-delirious madness. His blood-smeared face twisted with a diseased desire for destruction.
He cast his eyes down at the dark-haired Marine commodore below, sneering with mockery:
"Little brat Darren!! Did you see that!?"
"You destroyed my flying fleet—so today, I’ll sink your Marine headquarters into the sea!!"
"Jihahahaha!! Watch it all vanish in the blink of an eye, powerless and despairing!!"
RUMBLE...
As Shiki lifted his control over the floating island with his Float-Float Fruit, gravity reasserted itself. The island’s descent began to accelerate.
The roaring grew ever sharper, like explosions shattering through clouds and stone.
From the ground, one could clearly see rings of white shockwaves expanding from beneath the island, followed by a growing red glow.
It was heat—born from the island tearing through the air.
A violent tempest crashed down from above, the sheer pressure cracking the ground below.
Gales swept across every corner of Marineford, whipping up the Marines’ wide white coats.
Everyone stood frozen like statues, as if already resigned to the destruction bearing down on them.
And then—
"What the hell are you all doing!?"
A cold, hoarse bark exploded through the air.
Everyone flinched. There stood Sakazuki, one hand braced against a crumbling wall, rising slowly to his feet.
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His gaze was unwavering—cold and sharp—as it locked onto the island plummeting from the heavens.
"Sitting and waiting to die... that’s not the Marine way."
He left those words behind, then took a deep breath.
Thump-thump...
Thick black smoke burst once more from his arms as searing magma surged and expanded.
Sakazuki stood tall and proud. Under countless stunned gazes, he hurled his fists forward like a storm unleashed!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Like a barrage of rockets, immense balls of magma surged skyward. The blazing red light stained the skies blood-dark and cast a harsh glow over Sakazuki’s cliff-like, unyielding back.
"Meteor Volcano!!"
A storm of molten fireballs slammed into the bottom of the island. Chain explosions erupted, bursting forth with immense flashes of flame.
The terrifying power of the attack bored through rock and foundation. Burning rubble and earth rained into the sea, sending up hissing columns of white steam.
The island’s descent... slowed slightly.
"It’s working!!"
"Attack—everyone, attack!!"
"Damn it!! Move!! If we don’t do something, we’re really going to die here!!"
Hope flickered in the Marines’ eyes.
"FIRE!!"
Sengoku roared with fury.
The Marines jolted to life. Forcing their exhausted bodies into motion, they rushed into action.
Some dashed to the cannons, dragging out heavy artillery from the armory. A frenzied barrage rained upward at the falling island.
There weren’t enough cannons. Those without them raised rifles, firing regardless of effect.
Marine officers who had mastered Rokushiki and swordsmanship unleashed long-range techniques—Rankyaku and flying slashes—desperately trying to hinder the island’s descent.
Explosions bloomed across the island’s underside, flinging chunks of stone into the air. But against the island’s sheer size, it was like drops in the ocean.
"Damn it! It’s useless!!"
Tokikake gasped as he kicked out a Rankyaku. The air blade struck the underside of the island and kicked up a small cloud of dust. From afar, it was like tossing a pebble into an endless sea—nothing stirred.
Despair once again filled the eyes of the Marine commanders.
"Don’t give up!!"
Yamakaji unleashed flaming slashes one after another. Sweat drenched his pale forehead. He was at his limit.
Gion swung her famed blade. A golden slash howled out, her pale face set in fierce defiance. Her hands were torn and bloodied, her arms trembling with the strain.
...
They poured everything they had into halting the island’s fall—but at best, they could only slow it. They could not reverse fate.
Before the wrath of this catastrophe, their desperate resistance was like a mantis raising its arms against a chariot.
In less than thirty seconds, many collapsed from exhaustion.
After the earlier battle, most were already on the brink. They couldn’t sustain this high-intensity effort.
"Jihahahaha! It’s no use!! Human strength is nothing before a disaster like this!!"
Shiki, seeing the Marines’ foolish and naive defiance, laughed even more maniacally.
---
To be continued…
Chapter 356: Chapter 258: The Blade That Pierced the Island
Chapter Text
The explosive roar of the island scraping against the atmosphere grew more violent, as if it would shatter eardrums.
Under the crushing weight of the air, even the ground of Marineford began to show signs of splitting apart.
The wind howled with a mournful wail.
Everyone continued attacking with all their might, teeth clenched tight. Cannon fire and sword energy rained down like a storm, relentlessly pounding the bottom of the island.
But the harder they fought, the deeper their despair grew. The light in their eyes dimmed by the second.
The island was simply too massive. Even pooling all their strength together, they could only shatter a superficial layer of rock from its underside. Stopping its fall was utterly out of reach.
And the most terrifying part—the part that chilled them to the bone—was that due to its colossal size, the island wasn’t falling like a meteor at blistering speed. Instead, it descended slowly, like a storm brewing overhead. Unstoppable. Crushing.
That suffocating sense of pressure—that powerless realization of inevitable death—was the true torment.
A silent despair gradually spread across the land of Marineford.
“Damn it… I haven’t even become an admiral yet… I can’t… die here…”
Kuzan bit down hard, trying to stand, but his body swayed and dropped to one knee again, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
He had grown up far later than Sakazuki and the others. Whether in stamina or recovery, he couldn’t compare—let alone after unleashing “Ice Age,” a technique he hadn’t fully mastered during the last battle...
His injuries and exhaustion had pushed his body to its limit. He was on the brink of collapse.
Elsewhere, Sengoku had already taken the form of the giant golden Buddha.
Golden palms radiated overwhelming force, launching massive shockwaves across the sky.
Each blast carved craters into the island’s base, tearing up entire hundred-meter sections—but at such range, the power was greatly diminished.
Even as the admiral of Marine HQ, Sengoku couldn’t hide the helplessness that surfaced in his bloodshot eyes.
His Devil Fruit had never been suited for wide-area destruction.
Mythical Zoans granted incredible abilities, yes—but in the end, they were still beasts—suited best for close combat.
Melee was Sengoku’s strength. In the face of Shiki’s brute-force attack from above, he was effectively powerless.
“So… I guess this time, we’re all dying here…”
In the rubble of a collapsed building, Borsalino slouched against a wall, grinning without a care in the world.
He glanced at Sakazuki in the distance, who was still launching magma fists skyward. His face had grown ghostly pale, blood spilling from his mouth.
Borsalino chuckled, shook his head, and looked toward Darren.
“So… got any bright ideas?”
Darren hadn’t spoken a word since the floating island appeared.
He paused, then suddenly smiled.
“You don’t seem too worried, Borsalino.”
Borsalino shrugged lazily, half-grinning.
“Well, Shiki’s trick is terrifying, I’ll admit. But I’m made of light… I won’t die that easily.”
Darren let out a dry chuckle.
“True. You won’t die.”
The roaring above grew louder. The sky felt as though it had been torn open, and furious winds battered the earth.
“With your ability, you could leave whenever you want. You’ll survive.”
Borsalino gave him a long look, amused.
Darren fell silent again.
His uniform was soaked in blood, tattered and torn. His face was smeared with dust and blood. His body swayed with exhaustion.
He raised a trembling hand, pulled out a wrinkled cigarette pack, and lit one.
The smoke stung his throat, scraping through his lungs.
Unseen, his Observation Haki had already expanded outward.
Images flickered in his mind like photographs—
Civilians crying out, covered in blood.
Comrades straining, continuing to attack.
The eyes of Sengoku and Zephyr, filled with helpless fury.
Tokikake. Yamakaji. Onigumo...
And Toki—standing among the crowd, hands clasped in prayer, eyes rimmed red, looking toward him.
…
“Darren!! If you have something—do it now!!”
Sengoku’s sudden roar tore Darren from his thoughts.
His bloodshot eyes locked on Darren’s figure, filled with urgency and an almost pleading hope.
He had wracked his brain and found no solution. But somehow, he felt—if anyone could do it, it was that brat Darren.
Time and again, Darren had proven it.
Sengoku’s cry snapped everyone’s focus.
All eyes turned to the Marine commodore.
“Jihahahaha!! Don’t be ridiculous!!”
Shiki burst out laughing, his tone mocking.
“This is the power to destroy the world!! No one can stop it!!”
“Just face it—Marineford will sink today!!”
His twisted grin spread with manic pleasure.
There was nothing more intoxicating than this—watching tens of thousands of elite Marines collapse in fear and despair, then get buried by the sea. Just picturing it made him tremble.
“And that brat Darren… he can barely stand, can he?”
He stared mockingly at Darren, blood still dripping from his blades.
“If he had anything up his sleeve, he’d have used it by now! Jihahaha!!”
Shiki’s voice cut deep. Marines froze. Their attacks slowed… and then stopped.
Was there… really nothing left?
Are we all going to die here?
Hoo...
But just then, Darren slowly exhaled a long stream of smoke like a dragon.
Amid the smoke and blood-laced wind, he smiled.
“I’ve been holding still just to recover some strength.”
The Marines stared, stunned.
Even Shiki paused.
Darren turned to Borsalino and asked with a smile:
“So… is the experiment complete?”
A glint of interest flashed behind Borsalino’s shades.
“More or less.”
“Good.”
Darren looked up at the pirate in the sky. His gaze was calm—yet beneath it burned with fierce defiance.
“Enma.”
He raised his hand.
And then—
A streak of black light shot from the earth far away, slicing through the air at unimaginable speed, arriving before Darren in an instant.
Three-lobed guard. Cold, black blade. Purple-black flame-like patterns etched along the edge.
The air turned sharp. Bloody. Violent.
Without even a swing, the sword tilted upward—its tip pointed straight at the falling island.
“Hm?”
Shiki squinted, then burst into laughter again.
“So that’s your plan? Use your magnetic powers to shoot that sword through the island!? Jihahaha!! How stupid!!”
He had seen Darren use similar attacks before.
Powerful, sure—but nothing close to shattering an entire island.
Darren said nothing.
He stood amid the rubble, the bloodstained Justice coat fluttering behind him.
BOOM!!
The magnetic field surged. Enma shot skyward, instantly breaking the sound barrier, trailing white shockwaves in its wake.
A beam of demonic black light—Enma, the blade feared worldwide—soared toward the heavens!!
“Jihaha—No!! That attack can’t possibly—”
Shiki’s voice cut off.
Something changed. His face paled. Pupils constricted.
Sengoku and Zephyr froze as well.
Then Darren’s cold voice echoed through the battlefield:
“No one’s denying your power, Shiki. You do have the power to destroy the world.”
A wild grin spread across Darren’s face.
“Which is why…”
“…only a power that can destroy the world can beat you.”
He clenched his fist.
“Enma—shoot it down!!”
With that command—
In the stunned gazes of every Marine…
Under Shiki’s disbelieving eyes…
The sword Enma—shot toward the sky—suddenly expanded in size by dozens of times!!
What had once been a two-meter blade transformed into a towering giant—five meters wide, a hundred meters long!!
And unbelievably—
Its speed exploded—from multiples of the speed of sound… to dozens of times faster!!
“Momo: Fiftyfold Slash—Island’s Fall!!”
As the Marines looked on in shock…
As Shiki stared, wide-eyed and speechless…
The colossal Enma—wreathed in fire from atmospheric friction—ripped through the sky like the flaming blade of a divine being…
And pierced straight through the falling island from the heavens.
---
To be continued...
Chapter 357: Chapter 259: The Golden Generation (End of Volume Two)
Chapter Text
Shhhh!!
The blazing sword, now a hundred meters long, pierced the island without the slightest resistance. Its tip burst through the other side, erupting the sky in a hailstorm of shattered stone.
Sinister black aura swirled along Enma's massive blade, merging with the flames until they gave rise to ghostly violet-black hellfire.
A storm of sword energy howled from the tip of the blade, smashing the dense cloud cover above and blowing it apart.
The island’s terrifying descent abruptly halted—as if frozen in midair by that single strike.
Shiki's mad grin froze on his face. Blood vessels burst around his eyes, and his pupils dilated in shock.
That slash… it almost split the heavens!
Time itself seemed to stop for one breathless moment.
On the ground of Marineford, tens of thousands of civilians and Marines stood in stunned silence—unable to believe their eyes, unable to process what had just happened.
That colossal, sky-shrouding floating island… had been pierced straight through!?
That purple-black blade, stretching between heaven and earth, looked from a distance like a divine pillar holding up the sky—a bastion of justice standing firm.
This sight—this miracle—was destined to be burned into their memories, never to fade.
“What… is that…?”
Zephyr stared in disbelief at the massive sword, then turned to Sengoku with wide eyes.
But Sengoku, too, was speechless. He had no answer.
He had known Darren possessed a cursed blade from Wano.
He had assumed it was a gift from the mysterious woman Toki, and never paid it much attention. To him, giving such a weapon to someone who didn’t even practice swordsmanship felt like a waste.
After all, even a demon blade was just that—a lifeless tool.
So how… had it changed so monstrously?
Wait—!
Sengoku’s mind flashed back to something else entirely.
He remembered that not long ago, Borsalino, head of the Marine Science Division, had mentioned receiving new breakthroughs from Dr. Vegapunk—technology “five hundred years ahead of its time.”
Borsalino had formally reported that Vegapunk had cracked the secret of Devil Fruit transference—developing a method to transfer Devil Fruit powers…
…into objects.
At the time, Sengoku had scoffed.
“What utter nonsense,” he’d said, dismissing it with contempt.
Part of his reaction stemmed from his deep-seated distrust of Borsalino’s careless, slippery demeanor.
Make dead objects eat Devil Fruits? Ridiculous!
Devil Fruits were rare and invaluable. Wouldn’t it be smarter to let people eat them instead?
A living person could train, adapt, and unlock even greater potential.
But now...
As he stared at the cursed blade that had just pierced an entire island—he had no more doubts.
…
“What kind of power is that!?”
“Is that Darren’s Devil Fruit?”
“No—it isn’t!”
“It looks like… it’s coming from the sword itself!”
“That’s impossible!!”
The Marines snapped out of their stupor, turning to Darren with disbelief.
“That sword… it grew in size…”
Kuzan’s eyes sparkled as he stared at the massive Enma.
Turning to Darren, stars dancing in his eyes, he exclaimed:
“Darren… that was so cool!!”
Even Sakazuki looked visibly stunned.
Darren only smiled, his face pale and hollow.
But he had done it.
He had found the perfect vessel for the More-More fruit.
Enma.
Ideally, the More-More fruit would be consumed by a strong, capable person.
But no such candidate had presented themselves in time.
And Darren—already a user of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit—could never consume a second Devil Fruit.
Then Borsalino had come to him with news:
Vegapunk had succeeded in transferring Devil Fruit abilities into inanimate objects.
In that moment, a bold, outrageous idea took root in Darren’s mind—
Let Enma consume the More-More fruit.
Just like the sword in the original incident with Spandam that had eaten the Elephant-Elephant Fruit, Enma—empowered by the More-More fruit—would gain the power of exponential growth!
And best of all—it wouldn’t drain Darren’s stamina.
He only needed minimal energy to magnetically hurl Enma at supersonic speed.
Then, with the More-More fruit's power, Enma would multiply in size and velocity—achieving a single devastating strike capable of piercing an entire island!
Perhaps… this was the true, ideal usage of the More-More fruit.
“Well then… I suppose it’s over.”
Darren turned to Shiki and smiled.
“Sorry, but in the end… you lost.”
Whoosh—
A ripple of blue lightning flickered along Enma’s colossal blade.
And then—
In Shiki’s bloodshot eyes,
It was as if some divine, unseen being raised the sword of judgment—
—and brought it down.
CRACK!! CRACK!!
Tear!!
The sound of the island splitting echoed through all of Marineford, sending shivers down everyone’s spine.
BOOOOM!!
The legendary cursed sword—Enma—shattered the floating island and tore apart the heavens.
The island split in two, and as it fell, it crumbled further into countless fragments—raining down into the sea on either side of Marineford.
A roaring shockwave followed. Towering tsunamis surged skyward, over a hundred meters tall. The tidal waves crashed over docks and batteries—until Kuzan froze them with a sweep of his hand.
A few massive fragments plummeted toward Marineford like meteorites, trailing flaming tails like falling stars.
Buildings shattered. Fires erupted across the city. Infernos spread.
But compared to the doomsday that had nearly come… it was nothing.
The moment it ended, Enma shrank rapidly and returned to Darren’s side.
Shiki, lips trembling, glared violently at the commodore who stared back with cold, defiant eyes.
Just as Shiki gripped his swords—
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Several figures flashed in front of Darren, encircling him protectively like stars surrounding a moon.
Sakazuki. Kuzan. Borsalino. Sengoku. Zephyr…
Shiki froze mid-motion.
Blood dripping from his mouth, Darren sneered.
“What’s wrong? Need help getting out?”
As he spoke, Enma hovered again—its blade tip aimed straight at Shiki.
Shiki’s pupils shrank.
“…Hmph.”
He slowly sheathed his swords, then chuckled darkly.
“That’s enough fun for one day… But this isn’t over, Darren, you little brat!!”
“Jihahahaha!!”
He burst into manic laughter and vanished into the clouds.
As Shiki fled, Sengoku and the others quietly exhaled in relief.
The winds howled. Fires burned.
Island fragments streaked across the sky like falling stars.
And through the cleaved sky, golden sunlight broke through—like the fingers of a god reaching down to earth.
Sunlight poured over the ruined land, the collapsed buildings, the broken fortresses, and every wounded Marine standing tall.
They clenched their fists. Hearts pounding.
“We… we protected our home.”
Someone whispered.
The sun shone brighter.
Dawn had come.
The darkness was gone.
Their young faces, though weary and wounded, glowed with radiant smiles as they turned to look—
Kuzan. Tokikake. Gion. Yamakaji. Onigumo. Doberman. Dalmatian. Strawberry...
Each lifted their gaze to the man who stood at the center of them all.
The Marine commodore—smiling gently.
A man who stood as tall as a mountain.
Snap!
Face flushed with emotion, Kuzan could hold back no longer. He raised his hand in salute.
Next came Yamakaji.
Then the third.
The fourth.
One by one, the Marines saluted—without a single order.
“Che. He stole all the glory again!” Tokikake grumbled, wiping blood from his mouth. But under Gion’s fierce glare, he hunched and saluted.
“This really is quite a touching scene...” Borsalino muttered, amused.
Sakazuki paused. Then saluted too.
Zephyr and Sengoku exchanged glances, warm smiles spreading across their faces. They stepped back two paces—and saluted.
In that moment—
There was not a single Marine whose arm remained lowered.
Except for one.
He stood at the peak of the rubble, drenched in blood, a cigarette burned down to the stub in his mouth—
Bathed in a thousand rays of golden light.
———
Year 1493 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
The legendary pirate “Golden Lion” Shiki, after the destruction of his airborne fleet, joined forces with Kaido and Big Mom in a vengeful assault on Marineford.
Wielding a power that could destroy the world, he nearly succeeded in sinking the Marine headquarters.
In that earth-shaking battle, more than half of Marineford was devastated.
Notably, in the absence of Marine legends, the new generation—trained by former admiral Zephyr—became the key to victory.
Their unyielding spirit and overwhelming strength shone like constellations, and like gold—unbreakable, dazzling.
Among them, the brightest star was without a doubt: Rogers Darren, the “King of the North Blue.”
From that day on, the next generation of the Marines grew into a pillar of justice across the world.
Later historians would come to call this generation, born with unshakable will and golden strength—
“The Golden Generation.”
—Morgans, President, World Economic News
---
To be continued...
Chapter 358: Chapter 1: The World on the Brink of Chaos — Beginning of Volume Three
Notes:
A new volume, a new voyage.
After a short pause to catch my breath, I’m back to bring you Volume Three of The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History. The story sails forward — into uncharted waters, dangerous currents, and the turning of tides.Over the break, I’ve refined my approach to translation — aiming for smoother flow, sharper storytelling, and an even closer capture of the original’s tone and emotion. I hope you’ll notice the difference as we set sail together once again.
I’m glad you’re here to join me on this next leg of the journey.
Chapter Text
The Golden Lion’s brazen invasion of Marine Headquarters in Marineford sent tremors coursing through the Grand Line. Orchestrated leaks ensured the news spread like wildfire, igniting a firestorm of fear and awe that swept across the world.
In an act of sheer audacity, the Golden Lion had joined forces with Beast Kaido and Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom herself—to launch a direct assault on the bastion of Marine authority. In the aftermath, half of Marineford lay in ruins, the rest teetering on the edge of collapse. And yet, Shiki had vanished without a scratch.
Golden Lion Shiki—the Flying Admiral—had once again carved his name into the fabric of history, his arrogance and might leaving the world breathless.
This battle had done more than just wound Marineford. It had resurrected an ancient dread.
The unholy alliance with Kaido and Big Mom stirred grim memories among the veterans of an era long gone. From the depths of forgotten history, the name “Rocks” surfaced once more, casting its monstrous shadow over kingdoms, factions, and even emperors.
Seizing the momentum, Shiki launched a rapid expansion campaign in the New World. Word of his return to prominence swept through the seas, drawing pirates to his banner in droves. The Flying Pirates, once thought broken, surged back to life.
Even the remnants of Shiki’s original Flying Grand Fleet—shattered years ago by Marine Commodore Rogers Darren—began to stir. There were whispers of a rebirth.
Meanwhile, in a remote region of the New World, aboard the Whitebeard Pirates' flagship, the Moby Dick—
“Pops! Trouble! Urgent news from Marineford!”
Marco landed hard on the deck, gripping a newspaper just dropped by a news bird. His face was drawn tight, sweat lining his brow.
“That lunatic... Shiki’s actually teamed up with Kaido and Big Mom. They attacked Marine Headquarters!”
Shock rippled through the crew. Eyes widened. Jaws clenched.
They’d known Shiki had something planned. He’d even visited the Moby Dick recently, trying to pull Pops into his scheme.
But none of them had believed he’d follow through—especially not after Whitebeard turned him down. And to do it with Kaido and Big Mom at his side?
“Shiki…”
Whitebeard, seated on his great throne, frowned deeply. He gently brushed aside the masseuse at his side and extended his hand.
Marco handed him the paper.
Whitebeard’s eyes scanned the page. The same ambition he’d seen that day in Shiki’s face glared back at him now in print.
A low shadow passed through his gaze.
Shiki… are you trying to resurrect the age of Rocks?
His heart grew heavy.
“Let me see too! Let me see!”
A one-armed figure darted over, eyes alight—it was Kozuki Oden.
Ever since his brief encounter with the Golden Lion, something inside Oden had reignited. The wandering soul who once drank to drown his regrets had vanished. In his place stood the warrior they had first met—a man who hungered for challenge.
Day by day, he had thrown himself into training. Sword drawn, will sharpened, spirit blazing. The fire of Wano’s proud son had returned.
To Marco and the others, it was a miracle.
They had watched him fall. Now they watched him rise.
Kozuki Oden leaned in over the paper, eyes narrowing with keen interest.
“He nearly sank the entire island… That’s real power… Huh?”
His voice faltered.
A photograph had caught his eye.
The Marine Headquarters, reduced to smoldering ruin. And from the heavens, a colossal island plummeted, casting an apocalyptic shadow over Marineford.
At the heart of the devastation stood a single Marine, defiant, arms raised to the sky.
And erupting from the earth behind him—a blade.
A demon sword, wreathed in spectral fire, pierced the falling island’s core. Its presence leapt off the page. Sharp. Terrifying. Alive.
“Enma…” Oden whispered.
His voice trembled. His face twisted with emotion.
“He actually… truly tamed Enma…”
He took two steps back, stunned.
To anyone else, it might have looked like fire.
But Oden knew.
That flame was the sword’s soul, fully awakened.
The blade he once wielded had accepted a new master.
That Marine… had etched his spirit into Enma.
Even if Oden were to hold it again, the blade would not be his. He would have to tame it anew. Reclaim it from scratch.
The realization hollowed him.
A quiet grief welled up in his chest, bitter and sharp.
Could I really take it back...?
The thought coiled around him like a serpent.
His gaze lingered on the towering sword in the photo, a weapon ablaze with righteous fury.
Slowly, he lowered the newspaper. He turned away without a word and began walking toward the stern.
His broad back seemed suddenly small. His steps—quiet, heavy.
“Oden—”
Marco started to speak, but a large hand settled on his shoulder.
He looked up.
Pops was shaking his head.
“Let him be,” Whitebeard said softly. “Some things… no one else can help with.”
They watched Oden’s retreating figure in silence.
They understood.
Even if they stormed Marineford themselves, even if they killed that Marine and reclaimed the blade—it would change nothing.
This was a wound only Oden could heal.
Whitebeard turned back to the newspaper, his brow furrowed.
“This sea…” he muttered, “is about to descend into chaos.”
To be continued...
Chapter 359: Chapter 2: The Final Voyage
Chapter Text
At the same time, somewhere in the Grand Line, on a desolate island…
A crimson-hulled pirate ship lay anchored just offshore, its mast crowned by a fluttering flag—a grinning skull crowned with crashing waves.
The Oro Jackson.
“Hahahaha! You’ve really outdone yourself, Shiki! Pulling off something that bold!”
Roger’s boisterous laughter echoed across the coast as he waved a newspaper in hand, his head thrown back in genuine amusement.
A bonfire crackled at the center of the clearing, its smoke spiraling lazily into the sky. Around it, the Roger Pirates lounged in a loose circle, drinking, roasting meat over open flames, and trading banter with loud, easy camaraderie.
“They actually attacked Marineford…”
“Even we’ve never tried that.”
“Captain, should we go next? Sounds like a blast!”
“Hah! You just want to get blown to bits…”
Their laughter rang out like a chorus, brimming with mischief and swagger. It was the sort of energy that made you believe they’d follow Roger straight into the heart of Hell itself, if he asked.
“You idiots! That’s Marine Headquarters you’re talking about…”
Rayleigh scowled at them, rubbing his temples. His voice was thick with exasperation.
Pshh!
Nearby, Douglas Bullet crushed his newspaper in a white-knuckled fist, then ripped off a slab of roasted meat with his teeth. Fury burned in his eyes as he chewed.
“Damn it! That bastard Darren… he’s gotten that strong?!”
The others burst into fresh laughter.
“Looks like your old prison buddy’s outpaced you, Bullet!”
“Don’t stress, you’re still young…”
“Wait—wasn’t he about twenty? You sure you’re not slacking?”
“Hahahaha!”
Bullet’s face flushed with rage. He swallowed the meat whole and shot to his feet, eyes blazing as he turned toward Roger.
“Captain! I challenge you!”
The air around him convulsed.
A monstrous wave of Haki exploded from Bullet’s body, sweeping across the island like a hurricane. The sky darkened. The calm sea churned into chaos, waves crashing against the cliffs with deafening force.
Had Darren been present, he would’ve instantly sensed it—Bullet’s Haki had grown far more ferocious since their clash on Coin Island.
“Oh-ho! Here we go!”
“Now this is dinner entertainment!”
“I’ve been waiting for this…”
The Roger Pirates grinned from ear to ear, already leaning in. They’d been baiting Bullet all evening, just to stir the pot.
“Ugh… not again…”
Shanks and Buggy sighed in perfect unison. With resigned expressions, they dove behind a boulder—their usual refuge when chaos struck.
Rayleigh let out a long, weary sigh and buried his face in his hands.
And then—
BOOM!
Bullet struck first.
His legs erupted with force, tearing a crater into the earth. He launched forward like a cannonball, every muscle coiled with violence.
“Hahahaha! Now that’s the spirit!”
A glint of crimson flashed in Roger’s eyes.
CLANG!
His blade unsheathed in a single, fluid motion.
CRACK—!
The heavens split open.
Bolts of black and red lightning arced across the sky, thunder booming like a war drum. The crew winced, shielding their faces from the surge.
Then—
Bullet flew backward like a missile, hurled through a dozen trees before embedding into the side of a mountain. Rock exploded outward, leaving a crater the size of a house.
Roger, calm as ever, sheathed his blade and turned to Rayleigh with a grin.
“Rayleigh. Shiki’s made his move. Don’t you think it’s time we set sail?”
Rayleigh met his gaze. A shadow passed through his heart—but still, he smiled.
“…Yeah.”
“Hahahaha! Fantastic!”
Roger laughed like a boy given permission to play. He raised an arm to the sky, eyes burning with untamed fire.
“Alright, lads—raise anchor!”
His gaze stretched toward the endless blue horizon. Far off in the distance, barely visible, lay a small town on an island.
Loguetown. The gateway to the East Blue.
The Roger Pirates erupted into cheers.
They whooped, hollered, danced. The sound of drums and song filled the night.
Rayleigh stood in silence, watching them.
He lifted a jug of strong liquor and took a slow sip.
But today, it tasted bitter.
His eyes flicked toward Roger’s back, the man walking so cheerfully toward the sea.
And in a voice only he could hear, Rayleigh whispered,
“Roger… this will be our final voyage, won’t it?”
---
The next day.
Marine Headquarters—Marineford.
A titanic battleship crept into the port, casting a long, grim shadow over the ruined harbor. Its hull was gouged with blade marks, some still slick with dried blood. The very sight of it made the watching Marines shudder.
“They’re here!”
Sengoku stood atop the battered docks, flanked by hundreds of elite Marines, all standing at attention. As the anchor dropped, a towering figure emerged from the ship’s cabin.
“Fleet Admiral Kong!”
Sengoku and the others snapped into salute.
Kong stepped onto the deck.
He wore no shirt beneath his long marshal’s cloak. His bare torso was wrapped in bloodstained bandages. His skin was pale. Yet his eyes—fierce, clear, and unyielding—burned with a general’s fury.
His gaze swept across Marineford.
Entire blocks were flattened. Watchtowers crumbled. The air reeked of ash. Smoke still rose from distant fires.
Kong knew the damage already. Sengoku had briefed him via Den Den Mushi. But seeing it… feeling it… was something else entirely.
His fists clenched.
“That damn Golden Lion…”
His voice trembled with rage.
Then—
“Tsk, what a mess.”
The voice that followed was hoarse. Sardonic. Like rust scraping across steel.
A thin figure in crimson robes stepped out from behind Kong, sauntering forward with idle menace.
The moment he appeared, the entire port tensed.
Sengoku’s eyes narrowed.
CLACK.
Hundreds of rifles cocked at once, their barrels trained on the crimson figure.
The atmosphere thickened like storm-laden clouds.
A single spark could ignite a war.
To be continued...
Chapter 360: Chapter 3: Red the Aloof of Defeat
Chapter Text
A chilling surge of killing intent swept across the military port, turning the sea breeze sharp and bitter.
Every Marine raised their rifle in unison, muzzles trained on the gaunt figure in blood-red garb—no longer as a prisoner, but as a threat. Their foreheads beaded with sweat, breaths fogging in the cold air as tension mounted like a drawn blade.
Sengoku raised a hand in a swift, practiced signal, halting the advance. His expression was grim.
And with good reason.
The man standing before them was no ordinary pirate. Compared to Kong’s towering, broad-shouldered frame beside him, the man’s build seemed almost slight.
His white hair, braided into two plaits, hung over his shoulders. A magenta shirt, crimson trousers, and black leather shoes trimmed with gold marked his attire. A sweeping blood-red cloak flowed behind him, whispering menace with every step.
His eyebrows were dyed the same crimson hue, and a wry, detached smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
This was Patrick Redfield.
The Red Count.
Red the Aloof.
A pirate whose name had once echoed with equal force as Whitebeard and Roger. A man feared for his power, who could hold his own against entire fleets.
But the man standing here was no longer that legend.
His clothes were tattered, stained with dried blood. A dark smear marked the corner of his mouth, the bruising still fresh. Clear signs of a brutal battle, yet his composure remained unnervingly intact.
He stood beside Kong as if he belonged there, not as a prisoner, but as a guest.
With a faint nod, he looked out at the bristling rifles aimed at him and chuckled.
“A well-trained army,” he murmured with genuine admiration.
Then, placing one hand over his heart, he bowed deeply in a courtly gesture, like a nobleman greeting fellow aristocrats.
“To the elite of Marine Headquarters,” he said smoothly, “it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
Only then did the crowd fully register the Sea Stone shackles on his wrists—thick, heavy restraints clinking softly with his every movement.
How… can a prisoner move with such grace?
Redfield turned to Sengoku, offering him a casual, almost friendly smile.
“Sengoku. It’s been a while.”
Sengoku’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t expect any more reunions,” he said coldly. “After today, you’ll be sent to the deepest level of Impel Down. And there, you’ll rot.”
Redfield chuckled, unfazed. “That’s fine. It was a good fight.”
Kong, standing nearby, frowned deeply.
Redfield’s smile twisted with amusement. “Would’ve been even better if those meddling fools hadn’t gotten in the way.”
From the ship’s cabin, a loud, grating voice rang out.
“Still talking big, huh?!”
Vice Admiral Garp emerged, casually picking his nose.
Redfield turned to him, the smirk never leaving his lips.
That look alone lit a fire under Garp.
“What’re you staring at, you bastard?! Kong! Take off his shackles! I’ll knock his damn teeth in right now!”
Cracking his knuckles, Garp stormed forward, eyes blazing.
Panicked Marines rushed in, latching onto his arms and legs, voices raised in desperate protest.
“Vice Admiral Garp, please—calm down!”
“We just captured him after a full-scale battle—don’t ruin it!”
“Don’t let him bait you!”
Kong let out a long, weary sigh and rubbed his temples.
“Take the prisoner below. Now.”
The order snapped the Marines into action. Weapons at the ready, they advanced on Redfield.
The warship behind them was barely seaworthy, its hull ravaged from battle. For a high-risk capture like Red the Aloof, the next step would be transfer to Impel Down, where advanced containment ships and protocols ensured no possibility of escape.
As the gangway lowered with a dull thud, Redfield stepped forward.
His head held high, his movements unhurried, he descended from the ship with the air of a nobleman arriving at a garden party—not a prisoner facing eternal confinement.
He took in the scene before him with quiet curiosity, as if this ruinous holy land of justice was no more than a tourist attraction.
And then, he paused.
“Oh, Kong—one more thing.”
At the sudden halt, every rifle tightened on its trigger. Tension spiked in an instant.
Redfield turned his head, eyes meeting Kong’s.
“I realize it’s a bold request, but… if possible, I’d like to meet that young Marine. The one called Darren. Could that be arranged?”
Before Kong could speak, Sengoku cut in sharply.
“If you already know it’s an excessive request, you shouldn’t have made it.”
Redfield only shrugged. “Can’t blame a man for asking.”
His gaze drifted—slow, thoughtful—toward a distant section of Marineford: the military hospital.
“The rising star of this new era… the one who’s outmaneuvered the Golden Lion, Roger, and even Whitebeard... I confess, I’m curious.”
A flicker of shadow passed behind Sengoku’s eyes.
“Take him away.”
Marines stepped forward again, gripping Redfield’s arms.
But before he moved, Kong’s voice—low and measured—stopped him.
“Redfield…”
Kong’s eyes locked onto him.
“So… did you really join forces with the Golden Lion this time?”
The Golden Lion’s attack had coincided too perfectly with Kong and Garp’s absence. Too perfect to be chance.
Redfield paused.
Then shook his head.
“You and I go back, Kong. You should know better.”
He lifted his gaze to the sky, his voice quiet.
“I just… don’t feel like playing anymore.”
In his mind, a memory flashed—Roger, laughing like a god. That earth-splitting slash. That overwhelming force.
In a single blow, Redfield’s pride had been shattered.
A clean, irrevocable defeat.
“This era… it doesn’t belong to me.”
Without waiting for a response, the Red Count straightened his back and strode forward.
Toward the temporary prison.
His shackled hands did not tremble. His steps did not falter.
He moved not like a prisoner bound for the abyss, but like a man heading toward the conclusion of his own story—with dignity, and the last vestiges of pride.
To be continued...
Chapter 361: Chapter 4: What Are You Doing Here?
Chapter Text
A pale wash of sunlight seeped in through the blinds, casting soft rays across the sterile white ceiling.
Darren stirred.
His eyes cracked open with effort, the world swimming into view in fractured pieces—a rotating ceiling fan, muted gray walls, the quiet pulse of a heart monitor, and the steady drip of IV fluid hanging beside him.
A hospital room.
“Yo, you’re finally up.”
The voice came from nearby.
Darren turned his head and immediately regretted it.
There, slouched with legs crossed in a rickety chair, sat Tokikake—bare thighs bristling with hair under loud floral shorts, flip-flops flapping lazily against his feet. A banana dangled from his lips as he peeled it awkwardly with one hand. His other arm was in a sling.
Darren’s gaze slid to the floor.
Several fruit baskets—ripped open and raided—lay strewn in chaos. His brow twitched.
“You really made yourself at home, huh? Those were for me,” he muttered irritably.
“You couldn’t eat them all anyway,” Tokikake replied, mouth full of banana.
He jabbed a finger toward the corner.
There, dozens more fruit baskets sat piled like tribute offerings, flooding the room with the scent of overripe fruit.
“I fought too, you know. Got injured. Didn’t even get one basket…” he muttered bitterly.
Darren stared at Tokikake’s disheveled mop of hair, greasy face, and slovenly getup.
He didn’t even know where to start.
“…Got a smoke?”
Tokikake blinked. “Wait a sec.”
He fumbled into his pocket, eventually producing a finely wrapped box of cigars. With visible reluctance, he offered one to Darren.
Darren accepted it wordlessly.
Pretty sure that was a gift meant for someone else...
But he couldn’t be bothered to argue.
“Lighter?”
Tokikake blinked again, then reached into another pocket.
A clatter of metal hit the floor—nearly a dozen lighters spilled out.
The two men locked eyes in silence.
“…Heh,” Tokikake finally chuckled, snatching one off the floor and handing it over.
Darren lit the cigar and took a long drag. The sharp, peppery burn filled his lungs and jolted his foggy mind awake.
Groaning, he pushed himself up in bed.
Pain surged through him in waves—white-hot and suffocating. His entire body ached with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Damn… really pushed it too far this time.
His assessment was grim.
Complete muscular fatigue. Dozens of hairline fractures. Torn ligaments. Major blood loss.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thoroughly wrecked.
It would take at least a week before he could so much as walk normally.
Propped against the headboard, he sat in silence for a while, slowly puffing smoke into the stale air.
Then, with a dry voice:
“…What are you even doing here?”
Tokikake huffed.
“Too many casualties from the fight. Not enough private rooms. All the good ones are taken—by you monsters and the poor bastards clinging to life.”
“I got stuck in the general ward. Know who my roommate is? Onigumo.”
Darren winced.
Tokikake grimaced. “He just sits there. Stares. Doesn’t blink. I haven’t slept in two nights.”
Now he’s complaining about someone else being creepy?
Knock knock knock.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
A moment later, a large figure stepped into the room.
Wrapped in blood-streaked bandages, Zephyr entered, his presence filling the space. His expression lifted the moment he saw Darren awake.
“Darren! You're awake. How do you feel?”
Darren smiled weakly. “Might need a few days off, Zephyr-sensei.”
Zephyr stepped closer, examining him with a stern but relieved look.
“Even monsters need to rest. You can’t let wounds like these fester.”
He had checked Darren’s room countless times these past few days, worry etched into his face. Seeing the young man alert again, cigar in hand, finally allowed him to exhale.
Then his gaze shifted to the man lounging in the corner.
“…Tokikake. Why are you here?”
Tokikake opened his mouth, but Zephyr cut him off before he could answer.
“Forget it. Don’t cause trouble. Let Darren rest.”
Tokikake: …
Suddenly, a voice bellowed from the hallway.
“Yo! Darren! You’re up!”
Kuzan burst in, forehead wrapped in bandages, a limp in his step. His eyes sparkled like a kid at a candy store.
“That move you pulled off—one slash, straight through an island?! You’ve gotta teach me that once you're better!”
He struck a dramatic pose, his enthusiasm infectious.
Then he spotted Tokikake.
“…Wait. Why are you here?”
Tokikake: …
Before he could respond, another figure entered—slowly, deliberately.
Bare-chested, wrapped in fresh bandages, Sakazuki stepped inside.
His aura filled the room like the promise of a storm.
“You’re awake,” he said, gaze locked on Darren.
Darren nodded. “Yeah. I’m holding together.”
Sakazuki gave a short nod. Then his eyes flicked to Tokikake.
“And what are you doing here?”
Tokikake’s face turned crimson.
“Remember your protocols,” Sakazuki said coldly. “Salute your superiors.”
He turned and left without waiting for a response.
Before the silence could settle, yet another voice drifted in—lazy and smooth.
“Well now… looks like I walked into a party.”
Leaning on a crutch, his left leg in a cast, Borsalino sauntered in with his usual smirk.
He nodded to Zephyr and Kuzan, then looked around casually—his gaze predictably landing on Tokikake.
“Everyone else gets to visit, but I can’t?” Tokikake exploded, leaping to his feet.
Borsalino raised his hand in mock innocence.
“I didn’t say anything…”
Then, after a pause: “But now that you mention it… what are you doing here?”
Tokikake: …
To be continued...
Chapter 362: Chapter 5: Are You Sure?
Chapter Text
Tokikake stormed off in a huff, muttering curses under his breath. But not before helping himself to the largest fruit baskets in the room, prompting a few sharp glares from the others as he shuffled away like a bandit in broad daylight.
Darren sighed and turned to Borsalino.
“…What about Enma?”
After unleashing his final blow during the battle, Darren had collapsed from sheer exhaustion and blood loss, blacking out completely. He had no memory of anything that happened afterward—and when he awoke, Enma was gone. Most likely, the blade had been retrieved by the Marines’ Special Science Group.
Borsalino’s face stretched into a serene smile.
“That sword of yours is still dangerously unstable. You know how it is—feeding Devil Fruits to inanimate objects is still very much… experimental.” He shrugged. “And since the Paramecia-type ones haven’t been fully studied yet, it’s safer to keep Enma with the Special Science Group for now. Fewer surprises that way.”
Darren nodded. He had sensed it too—Enma pulsed with a dangerous unpredictability every time he wielded it.
Unlike Spandam’s sword in the original timeline, which had devoured the Elephant-Elephant Fruit and gained animal traits along with a basic “soul,” Enma had consumed the More-More Fruit—a Paramecia.
The result was something else entirely.
It didn’t become alive. It didn’t sprout eyes or a voice.
But Enma’s will… it remained.
And that will had somehow seized control over the More-More Fruit’s powers.
The problem was, the fruit’s abilities were immense. Too immense. Like handing a cannon to a child.
The fusion was raw, unstable—its power wild and clumsy.
Still, Darren wasn’t worried about anyone stealing or trying to master Enma.
No one else could draw out its full potential. Not even a Great Swordsman.
The moment Enma devoured the More-More Fruit, its abilities had become a part of the blade’s core—not the user’s. Unlike Byrnndi World, whose powers could be cast outward, Enma’s growth applied only to itself.
Could any swordsman in their right mind wield a blade hundreds of meters long in the heat of battle?
No.
And besides, given Darren’s current reputation, merit, and strength, no one in the Marine command dared think about prying it from his hands.
“Well,” Borsalino said, scratching the back of his head and gesturing to his bandaged leg, “I just dropped by to give you the update.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh.
“This time… the injury’s serious. Might be a month or two before I’m back on duty. What a shame.”
Darren: “…”
Zephyr: “…”
Kuzan: “…”
They watched as he hobbled away on his crutches, their expressions twitching with silent judgment.
That guy’s healing factor borders on absurd. He’ll probably be back to normal in ten days... tops.
But none of them spoke.
It wasn’t their problem.
Sengoku would be the one with the headache.
Still, Darren was quietly stunned. The fact that Borsalino had even been injured at all said volumes about the Golden Lion’s terrifying power.
Then Zephyr cleared his throat.
“Darren,” he began slowly, carefully weighing his words, “I didn’t come just to check on your injuries. There are… a few other matters to discuss.”
Darren offered a faint smile. “Go ahead, Zephyr-sensei.”
Zephyr nodded, pleased. He’s got the discipline of a soldier, even if his morals are still wildly questionable...
“First things first—we need to talk about the Charlotte Linlin situation.”
His gaze turned probing. “You and Big Mom…”
“Impossible! Absolutely not!” Darren waved a hand with indignant force, voice full of righteous denial.
Zephyr’s brows climbed skeptically. “Are you… sure?”
Darren’s eye twitched. “Of course I’m sure!”
What kind of question is that?!
What do you mean “am I sure”? As if I could possibly forget sleeping with Big Mom?! That voluptuous, madwoman walking volcano?!
He gritted his teeth. “Zephyr-sensei, I know I’ve… had my share of dalliances.”
“Your reputation in that area isn’t just bad,” Zephyr interrupted flatly. “It’s a complete disaster.”
“…But I still have some standards,” Darren insisted, stiffly.
“Do you?” Zephyr said with a slow blink.
Darren: “…”
Grinding his teeth, Darren repeated: “Yes. I’m sure.”
Zephyr gave him a long, considering look, then abruptly turned to Kuzan.
“Kuzan. Go get me a cup of coffee. The machine’s at the end of the hall.”
Kuzan blinked. “Huh? Why coffee? Water’s fine, isn’t it?”
A vein popped on Zephyr’s forehead. He smacked Kuzan over the head.
“I’m telling you to leave the room!”
Kuzan recoiled, rubbing his head. “O-okay…”
When Kuzan had finally exited, Zephyr sighed.
Why are all my students brilliant and infuriating in equal measure?
He turned back to Darren.
“I know about you and Gion.”
Darren blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “Me and Gion? There’s nothing going on between us, Zephyr-sensei.”
Zephyr gave him a deadpan stare.
“Kid. She was my administrative officer during the Training Camp. I know her better than she knows herself.”
“She’s been zoning out. Her moods are erratic. And the light in her eyes—it’s changed. She’s falling for someone.”
Darren looked uncomfortable.
Zephyr didn’t let up.
“And every time you come back from the North Blue or complete a mission, she shows up at work practically glowing. You think I can’t put two and two together?”
He sighed.
“I didn’t want to believe it at first. But it’s true, isn’t it? You really dared to make a move on Gion?”
Darren gave a dry cough, then awkwardly fished out a cigar from the gift basket.
“Zephyr-sensei, please… have a smoke.”
Zephyr: “…”
He accepted the cigar, expression unreadable.
Darren lit it for him with trembling hands.
Zephyr took a drag, exhaled slowly, then spoke.
“Back to Big Mom—this isn’t just some rumor to ignore. It’s serious, but not insurmountable.”
“I know you. I know you’ll never change.”
“But listen carefully, kid.”
He leveled a finger at Darren, his eyes sharp with warning.
“Charlotte Linlin is a pirate. Whatever chaos she brings—and however alluring she may seem—you can’t afford to play recklessly with people like her.”
To be continued...
Chapter 363: Chapter 6: The Hearing
Chapter Text
“You’re not in the North Blue anymore, kid. You can’t go around stirring up trouble whenever you feel like it.”
Zephyr wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, so Darren could clearly see the steely glint in his eyes.
“This time, the Marines managed to defend Marineford. And you deserve a large part of the credit.”
“With what you’ve accomplished, you’ve earned enough military merit to step into the core leadership circle of Headquarters.”
“Admirals, officers, even the public—all of them hold you in high esteem now. If you were to do something reckless with Big Mom…”
The warning wasn’t explicit, but Zephyr trusted Darren’s intelligence and instincts. He would read between the lines.
Darren got the message loud and clear.
You're overthinking it, old man.
You really think I’d go that far?
The grotesque image of Big Mom’s bloated, monstrous form from the Original Story flashed through his mind. A chill ran down his spine.
He sighed, then managed a weary smile.
“Don’t worry, Zephyr-sensei. There’s no way I’d ever get involved with her.”
Zephyr gave him a sidelong glance, unconvinced.
“I heard you used to have a thing for older women back in the North Blue. And Charlotte Linlin may be older, but… she's still got a certain charm.”
Cough! Cough!
Darren choked on his cigar smoke.
Even with his thick skin, that accusation landed hard.
“I’ve got zero interest in her, I swear.”
“Then why is she interested in you?”
“Because she wants my body! She’s crazy—wants to have my kids!” Darren growled, jaw tight.
Zephyr studied him for a moment longer, then gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“Alright. I just wanted to be sure.”
Then he added casually, “As for Gion… I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything.”
Darren exhaled in relief.
But Zephyr wasn’t finished.
“There’s also the matter of your graduation.”
“As per tradition, every class in the Elite Officer Training Camp has a formal graduation ceremony. At that ceremony, the top graduate delivers a speech.”
“This year, you’re the top candidate. No question.”
“So start writing. You’ll be addressing your peers—and the generation that comes after you. Say something worth remembering.”
Zephyr’s mouth twitched slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant.
Darren, sharp-eyed as ever, caught the shift.
“Something wrong, Zephyr-sensei?”
Zephyr grimaced like he’d just bitten into something sour.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Just… focus on your speech. I trust you, kid.”
He definitely wasn’t about to recount the traumatic speeches from the previous two top graduates—both of which had been so unhinged they nearly caused political incidents.
With a pat on Darren’s shoulder, Zephyr turned and left the room.
---
Ten days passed.
In that time, Darren tasted a rare luxury: paid medical leave.
He finally understood why Borsalino clung so dearly to his idle lifestyle.
Thanks to his rank and war record, he was granted a top-tier suite—the kind reserved for Vice Admirals and above.
The medical team was excellent, the nurses attentive, the meals first-class.
And best of all was Toki, who stayed by his side every day, preparing nutritious meals and fussing over him like a devoted wife.
Life was… good.
As for Gion?
She’d been livid at first when she heard Big Mom had targeted Darren.
But her anger quickly evaporated after seeing the extent of his injuries.
And under Darren’s “gentle persuasion,” she had—albeit begrudgingly—participated in several “shameful” role-playing sessions in the privacy of his soundproof VIP room.
---
One morning—
“Mr. Darren, your wounds are fully healed! Your body’s back to peak condition!”
Dr. Aizawa’s eyes widened as she studied the report, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Darren flashed her a relaxed smile, puffing his cigar.
“Come on, Doctor. You of all people should know how strong I am.”
She flushed slightly. Despite the crisp professionalism of her white coat and glasses, her shapely figure betrayed a very human softness beneath.
“Mr. Darren…” she murmured, stealing glances at his bare upper body.
His scarred, muscular frame exuded a savage kind of allure—brutal, untamed, and undeniably magnetic.
As she lingered, Darren stood, shrugged into a crisp new uniform, adjusted his black tie, and—after a final glance—took her hand.
With a gentle smile, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Miss Aizawa.”
And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the dazed doctor staring after him.
He moved through the corridor and out the main entrance of the military hospital.
There, three imposing figures were already waiting for him.
Sakazuki stood straight as a spear, his sharp uniform pressed to perfection, a lit cigar clenched between his teeth. He radiated ruthless, unyielding discipline.
Borsalino slouched nearby, hands buried in his pockets, expression lazy and unfocused—as if his mind were floating somewhere beyond the clouds.
And Kuzan—who’d been practicing jabs in the air—perked up the moment he saw Darren.
“Yo! Darren! Took you long enough!”
Darren smiled and strode toward them.
“Ready?” he asked.
Sakazuki gave him a cold glance. “Your promotion hearing to Vice Admiral is just a formality,” he said flatly. “But some fools might still ask… inappropriate questions.”
Darren chuckled. “I don’t mind. What about you? Aren’t you worried someone might vote against you?”
Sakazuki said nothing.
He turned sharply and marched toward the Fleet Admiral’s Office, every step radiating grim authority. His cloak billowed behind him like a banner of war.
“They wouldn’t dare,” he said.
Darren shrugged.
Yep. That’s Sakazuki for you.
Beside him, Borsalino smirked.
“With that kind of energy,” he drawled, “you’d think we were about to start a war…”
To be continued...
Chapter 364: Chapter 7: The Marine’s Core Decision-Making Level
Notes:
I disappeared for a while… but the story never left my heart. ❤️
Now, I’m back—ready to share it with you once more. ✨📖
Chapter Text
As Darren made his way from the military hospital to the Fleet Admiral’s Office, it was the first time in ten days that he truly saw Marineford with his own eyes.
And what he saw made his heart sink.
The military district was still a graveyard.
Wounded Marines patrolled with bandaged limbs and grim expressions, halting to salute the four figures walking past. Their eyes carried a reverence reserved for legends.
Much of the wreckage had been cleared—collapsed buildings, shattered walls, splintered steel—but the land itself remained scarred. Craters and gaping fissures tore across the ground. The horizon was lined with the skeletal remains of half-built fortresses and scaffolded frames hastily erected for reconstruction.
Darren’s frown deepened with every step.
The damage from the Golden Lion’s invasion had eclipsed even that of the Summit War Darren remembered. Half the military district was flattened, and even the civilian zones had suffered extensive collateral damage. His own quarters had been obliterated—reduced to rubble by a falling "meteorite."
Thank the stars Zephyr had responded immediately, ordering a mass evacuation that kept the death toll low.
Even so, the aftermath was everywhere.
Civilians stood weeping before the remains of their homes. Children clung to each other in silence. Marines stared blankly ahead, some sitting alone among the ruins, nursing invisible wounds.
To Shiki, this had been nothing more than a moment of cathartic chaos—a cruel joke, an act of vengeance, a casual lashing out.
But for those who lived here… it had been a disaster.
A tragedy that had stolen their families, their homes, their sense of safety.
Darren, who had long since hardened himself in the blood-soaked North Blue, felt a cold weight settle in his chest.
“Damn you, Golden Lion…” Kuzan growled beside him. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, veins bulging under the skin. “Marineford was fine… It was peaceful. Why the hell did he have to destroy everything?”
“If I’d been stronger… maybe I could’ve stopped more of it…”
As a student of both Zephyr and Garp, Kuzan had inherited not just their power, but their ideals.
For them, justice wasn’t about executing pirates. It was about protecting the helpless. Shielding civilians. Saving the future.
Kuzan burned with that same conviction.
His eyes shimmered with a volatile mix of grief, anger, and self-loathing. Fury at Shiki… and frustration at his own limits.
Darren placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You did more than enough, Kuzan. Without you, the death toll would’ve been catastrophic.”
It was true.
Darren had cleaved the falling islands with Enma, splitting the monstrous landmasses before they hit Marineford.
But the aftermath—the tsunamis those island fragments created—had been just as deadly.
Kuzan had frozen the incoming sea before it could drown half the city.
His power had saved countless lives.
Before Kuzan could respond, Sakazuki’s cold voice cut through the air.
“War brings casualties. Always has. Always will.”
He didn’t stop walking. Didn’t even glance at the destruction around him.
“Instead of standing here whining,” he said flatly, “use your energy to plan the next battle.”
Kuzan’s jaw tightened.
“You heartless bastard…” he muttered.
Darren said nothing.
Sakazuki wasn’t like them. He was forged from something harsher—some ironclad alloy of war and duty. Emotion was weakness in his eyes. Empathy, a hindrance.
He was a blade sharpened for killing.
“You know,” Borsalino said lightly, “Admiral Sengoku’s been drowning in headaches lately.”
He ambled along with his hands in his coat pockets, eyes half-lidded.
“Post-war compensation, housing civilians, tending the wounded, rebuilding Marineford… It’s all landed on his desk. Even the SSG’s funding got gutted.”
Darren raised an eyebrow. “What about aid from the World Government?”
Borsalino let out a dramatic sigh.
“Well, Shiki did kill a Celestial Dragon. You can imagine how that news went over…”
“The Gorosei are furious. Fleet Admiral Kong’s already gone to Mary Geoise to smooth things over.”
The truth was, the Marines had always operated under tight constraints.
They had no independent revenue. Their entire existence depended on funding from the World Government. Every bullet, every ship, every decision had to answer to political will.
Darren knew that all too well.
Which was why he’d built his own fleet in the North Blue. Why he’d bent rules and carved out power where he could.
Soon, they arrived at the heart of Marineford: the Central Military Fortress.
A massive hole still marred one of the walls—its steel-reinforced edges twisted and cracked. Construction crews were hard at work reinforcing the breach.
It was the very hole Borsalino had blasted through when Shiki sent him flying.
A young Marine officer marched up, saluted crisply, and announced:
“Gentlemen. The hearing is about to begin. Admiral Sengoku and the other members are waiting in the conference chamber.”
This was no public trial.
It was an internal hearing—one held by the Marine high command.
A formality, in most cases.
The Marine chain of command was strict and hierarchical, stretching from janitorial staff to the triad of Admirals and the Fleet Admiral himself. Promotions were slow, often political. But Vice Admiral—especially Headquarters Vice Admiral—was a threshold.
It was the gateway to the Marines’ real power structure.
Only those who reached it could access core strategic decisions. Only those who passed it could command flagships, lead operations across the Grand Line, and wield the infamous Buster Call.
These were the Marines known as the “Backbone of Justice.”
Today, Darren would step into their ranks.
If he passed.
He looked up at the towering silhouette of the Fleet Admiral’s Office, its facade battered but unbowed.
And in his eyes, the fire of ambition burned bright.
He knew what this day meant.
The doors to real power were about to open—just a crack.
And he was ready to step through.
To be continued...
Chapter 365: Chapter 8: Confrontation
Chapter Text
As Darren followed the messenger into the highest-level conference room of the Fleet Admiral’s Office, flanked by Sakazuki and Borsalino, he was met with the weight of dozens of sharp, assessing gazes.
Save for Fleet Admiral Kong—currently in Mary Geoise reporting to the World Government—every Vice Admiral and high-ranking officer of Marine Headquarters was present.
They sat in solemn rows around a massive oval conference table, each man dressed in a crisp black suit beneath a flowing Marine justice cloak. Their eyes were flint, their expressions carved from stone.
Before every officer lay a slim, black file—each one marked with the names Darren, Sakazuki, and Borsalino.
Contained within were their full military records: their careers from enlistment to the present, their combat achievements, commendations, and disciplinary reports.
This hearing was, on paper, a routine formality.
In truth, it was something far more consequential.
Sakazuki and Borsalino’s qualifications were beyond dispute. Both were Headquarters Rear Admirals with military merits that vastly exceeded the norm for promotion to Vice Admiral. Their only obstacle had been age—and even that was no longer enough to hold them back.
The Battle of Marineford had settled any lingering doubts.
But Darren… Darren was the wild card.
He was younger than both, yet his performance in the war had eclipsed them all.
His actions—his power—had shaped the outcome of the battle. There was no denying his eligibility.
But his path to promotion had already been delayed once—thanks to the Dragon incident.
The atmosphere in the chamber was oppressive. The flags of the World Government and the Marine Justice Seagull flanked the walls, heavy with authority.
Among the crowd, Darren recognized familiar faces—officers he’d fought beside against the Golden Lion. Others, however, were unfamiliar… and unwelcoming. Their gazes ranged from skeptical to dismissive, some even openly sneering.
The Inspectorate, Darren thought, lips curling faintly.
The Marine system was vast.
Alongside its combat divisions were three parallel pillars: administration, military staff, and the Disciplinary Inspectorate.
The first two coordinated logistics and command flow. The third was different.
The Disciplinary Inspectorate was a separate beast. Answering only to the Fleet Admiral, it had the authority to monitor, report, and—if necessary—impeach Marines of any rank.
It was, essentially, a military watchdog.
And most of its members were government plants—loyal not to the Marines, but to the World Government itself.
If there are going to be objections… it’ll come from them.
A familiar voice cut through the tension.
“You’ve all arrived.”
Admiral Sengoku, seated at the head of the table, offered them a wry smile.
“Take your seats, gentlemen. No need to be nervous.”
He gestured toward the raised platform before the council—a long, narrow table, elevated like a press podium, facing the gathered commanders.
His eyes flicked toward them, carrying a silent message: Don’t start trouble.
Sakazuki didn’t hesitate. He stepped up and claimed the leftmost seat with the calm of a man expecting a battlefield.
Borsalino smiled faintly at Darren. “After you.”
Darren chuckled, shook his head, and took the center seat.
Borsalino followed, settling into the right.
The three sat side by side, facing the room full of ranking officers—an audience of power and judgment. Gazes weighed on them like anchors.
And then, in perfect unison—
They crossed their legs.
A synchronized, unapologetic gesture of defiance.
“……”
Sengoku’s smile froze mid-expression.
“……”
Tsuru quietly covered her face with one hand.
“……”
Zephyr’s jaw twitched.
Garp, on the other hand, happily tore open a bag of senbei and began munching with enthusiasm.
Kuzan, seated against the wall, whispered, “So cool…”
Across the table, the Inspectorate officers exchanged dark, thunderous glares.
These upstarts are just as arrogant as the rumors claimed…
No respect for hierarchy…
Do they think we can’t bring them down?
Sengoku cleared his throat.
“Ahem. It seems our heroes from the battlefield are still recovering. Perhaps the walk from the hospital wore them out.”
His forced chuckle was a desperate attempt to defuse the tension.
“Oh, not me,” Borsalino said lazily. He removed his black bowler hat and lit a cigarette, lounging like he owned the place.
“Same here,” Darren said with a grin, biting down on a fresh cigar. He casually tossed another to Sakazuki.
“I’m ready for deployment,” Sakazuki replied flatly.
He caught the cigar, placed it between his teeth, and ignited it with a touch from his smoldering, black-gloved fingers.
Smoke curled into the air as the three men sat there—smirking, smoking, and utterly unbothered—gazing back at the highest echelons of the Marine command.
The air thickened with pressure.
Across the room, the Inspectorate officers bristled.
Several turned and glared at Sengoku and Zephyr.
Sengoku opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Zephyr… looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose.
To be continued...
Chapter 366: Chapter 9: Any Objections?
Chapter Text
Those damn brats…
Sengoku sat motionless, jaw clenched, fists trembling in silent fury. His face had gone red with restrained rage as he glared at the three men slouched casually before the Marine high command, legs crossed, cigars lit, exuding shameless confidence.
This is a promotion hearing! he screamed inwardly. Even if it’s mostly a formality, there’s still protocol! Appearances! Respect!
And worse, Marine Headquarters was strapped for funds. This hearing—this precise moment—was meant to demonstrate unity and discipline. They were supposed to show the World Government that the Marines were a reliable investment. Now these three maniacs were sitting here puffing smoke like they ran the place.
And I’m the one who has to go groveling to those damned government officials afterward...
Sengoku pressed a hand to his chest and took a deep breath, forcing the urge to explode back down his throat.
He glanced sideways at Zephyr, who was deliberately looking the other way, expression blank.
Sengoku’s eyes screamed Do something!—but Zephyr only offered a silent shrug.
You're the Fleet Admiral-to-be, not me. I can't control these monsters anymore.
Sengoku nearly burst a blood vessel.
“Ahem.” A gentle voice broke the tension.
Tsuru, calm and composed as ever, adjusted her sleeves and offered a small smile to the room.
“Rear Admiral Sakazuki, Rear Admiral Borsalino, and Commodore Darren each have… rather vivid personalities,” she said tactfully.
“But there’s no malice in it. As veterans of Marine Headquarters, we should show a little patience with the younger generation.”
She turned toward the Inspectorate officials, her voice as soft as silk and sharp as steel.
“What do you think?”
The gathered Inspectorate members exchanged glances. They weren’t fond of Tsuru’s defense, but they couldn’t afford to openly challenge her. She was one of the most respected officers in Marine history—and the one person most of them feared to cross.
“…Young officers will be young officers,” one muttered.
“Let’s proceed,” another added curtly.
“Their records speak for themselves.”
Tsuru nodded and retrieved the first file from her desk.
“Very well. We begin with Rear Admiral Sakazuki.”
She read aloud, voice crisp and clear:
“Born in the North Blue. Formerly a Captain, then Deputy Base Commander, and later Supreme Commander of the North Blue. Completed training at the Headquarters Elite Officer Training Camp and served as aide to former Admiral Zephyr.”
“Currently holds the rank of Rear Admiral at Marine Headquarters.”
“In total: 731 combat operations. Over 36,000 pirates eliminated. Of those, over 3,000 held bounties above ten million berries.”
“Mission success rate: 95.6 percent.”
“Performance assessment: Outstanding.”
“Based on accumulated merits and after internal review, Admiral Sengoku formally recommends Rear Admiral Sakazuki for promotion to Headquarters Vice Admiral.”
She closed the folder and looked up.
“If there are any questions or objections… now is the time.”
A heavy silence fell across the room.
The numbers had stunned even the most skeptical observers.
Over 700 missions. Tens of thousands of confirmed kills. A success rate bordering on flawless.
More than a few veterans shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Monster.
That was the only word that truly fit.
And in each mission dossier, stamped in bold red ink beside the outcome, was a single, chilling phrase:
Total Annihilation.
No survivors. No prisoners. No mercy.
The weight of it was palpable.
Even the arrogant World Government officials in the Inspectorate hesitated.
They stared at the pages, brows furrowed. They knew what it meant.
Sakazuki didn’t just kill pirates.
He erased them.
Then, slowly, Sakazuki rose to his feet.
The marble tabletop hissed beneath his palms as crimson heat flared from his gloved hands, leaving seared imprints in the stone. Wisps of smoke curled into the air.
He leaned forward slightly, a cigar clenched between his teeth, his voice low and grating like steel across granite.
“So… anyone have objections?”
His eyes swept the room. Unblinking. Ice cold.
A predator’s gaze.
No one spoke.
No one even breathed.
Sengoku twitched. This is intimidation! Pure and simple!
And yet, no one dared call it out.
Then, finally, a voice piped up—trembling, but defiant.
“I… I have a question!”
One of the Inspectorate officials had stood, face pale, hand visibly shaking.
Sakazuki’s gaze locked onto him like a rifle scope.
The official swallowed hard, sweat already trickling down his back, but he pushed forward:
“During the mission in the Bada Kingdom last year… the prince was killed. According to the CP investigation, the circumstances point to a high probability of… intentional assassination. Would you care to explain that?”
Silence.
Sakazuki’s eyes narrowed.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
“I have no explanation.”
The official blanched.
“I was sent to stop a wedding between Charlotte Linlin and the Bada Kingdom’s prince. My actions succeeded.”
“As a result, the kingdom was never absorbed into Totto Land. Months later, the king conveniently died of illness, and the pro-government younger prince ascended the throne. The Bada Kingdom joined the World Government.”
He took a slow puff from his cigar, the tip glowing like an ember in the dark.
“That’s the best possible outcome.”
“As for the casualties—” he exhaled smoke in the official’s direction “—this isn’t a child’s game.”
The official opened his mouth… then closed it.
His legs nearly buckled beneath him.
Sakazuki took his seat again and let his voice echo one last time:
“Any other objections?”
Silence.
Total, suffocating silence.
No one dared speak.
Not because they agreed.
But because they feared what would happen if they didn’t.
The vote proceeded.
Unanimous approval.
Sakazuki leaned back, smirking.
He looked toward Sengoku.
Sengoku exhaled slowly, as if resigning himself to the burden of cleaning up whatever mess this promotion might cause.
He rose from his chair and spoke, voice solemn:
“Rear Admiral Sakazuki, by the authority vested in me by Marine Headquarters…”
“I hereby declare your promotion to Headquarters Vice Admiral officially approved.”
To be continued...
Chapter 367: Chapter 10: The Achievements of the SSG
Chapter Text
Unanimous approval.
The decision came swiftly—perhaps too swiftly—and left even Sengoku, Tsuru, and several senior officers momentarily stunned.
Ordinarily, hearings for Headquarters Vice Admiral promotions drew at least a few dissenting votes. Not because the candidates lacked merit, but to maintain the illusion of impartiality and procedure.
But this time, no one dared provoke the madman seated before them.
Not after the way Sakazuki had practically dared them to oppose him.
Especially not after that glare—the kind that promised not just vengeance, but annihilation.
“Next,” Tsuru said, her voice resuming its steady, professional rhythm, “we move on to the review of Rear Admiral Borsalino’s promotion.”
“If anyone has questions, please raise them now.”
She lifted the next folder from her stack.
“Rear Admiral Borsalino, also from the North Blue, has served both in Marine Headquarters and in the regional divisions. He was the top graduate of the very first class of the Elite Officer Training Camp, and upon completion, he became aide to Admiral Sengoku.”
“In addition to his combat record, he serves as the head of the Marine Special Science Group. Under his leadership, the group has developed various technologies and weapons that have since been deployed across Marine branches.”
“Since joining the Marines, Rear Admiral Borsalino has completed 513 missions and arrested over sixteen thousand pirates.”
A wave of murmurs swept through the room.
The Marine officers looked toward the man seated at the table: young, lean, stubbled, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a faint, infuriating grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The World Government officials, in contrast, collectively furrowed their brows.
This guy?
He looks like he just rolled out of a bar fight...
How is this street thug the top of his class?
Is that smirk permanent, or does he just enjoy mocking us?
For once, even Sakazuki seemed less irritating by comparison.
Then came the inevitable question.
“Rear Admiral Borsalino,” one of the Inspectorate officials asked with a sneer, “your records show that in most missions, you didn’t eliminate the pirates. In fact, many were allowed to escape. Why is that?”
Darren, watching from his seat, couldn’t suppress a smirk.
Borsalino scratched his head and sighed with exaggerated sorrow. “Ahh, I tried my best, you know… But these pirates today? Terrifying. Like monsters! No matter how hard I fought, they just kept slipping away.”
The entire front row of Admirals visibly cringed.
Sengoku covered his face. Tsuru inhaled sharply through her nose. Zephyr closed his eyes, muttering a silent prayer. Even Garp, munching on his senbei, paused.
Unbelievable.
The World Government officials, having been humiliated by Sakazuki’s display, now seized their chance to pounce.
“Rear Admiral Borsalino,” a rotund official said, rising to his feet with theatrical gravity, “we have concerns regarding the Special Science Group under your command.”
At his signal, a subordinate activated a Visual Den Den Mushi. The screen flickered to life, displaying an image of a strange, clunky object.
“This,” the official declared, “is a flashlight. Can you explain its function?”
Borsalino leaned forward and studied it seriously. “Ah… Yes. That’s one of our more sophisticated devices. It harnesses ambient light as energy, which it stores and uses to illuminate its surroundings.”
“In bright areas,” he added, “it shines brilliantly.”
“And in darkness?” the official asked coldly.
Borsalino nodded, gravely solemn. “It absolutely does not light up.”
Silence.
A single cough echoed in the back of the room.
Sengoku groaned aloud. Garp burst out laughing. Zephyr looked like he wanted to jump out the window.
The official’s face turned beet red.
“Rear Admiral Borsalino!” he shouted, slamming his fist onto the table. “Are you mocking this assembly?! That flashlight cost 150 million berries!”
A collective gasp swept the room.
Two marine ships. A thousand soldiers’ worth of arms. All spent on a flashlight that doesn’t work in the dark.
“Do you have any justification for this waste?”
But Borsalino only smiled, serene as a monk.
“It’s a truly magnificent invention,” he said earnestly.
“Are you serious?!”
“Of course.”
With that, he slowly raised his right hand.
Golden light gathered at his fingertip—brilliant, focused, and crackling with lethal energy. It locked onto the trembling official, who froze as if staring death in the face.
“W-what are you doing?” he stammered.
Borsalino chuckled and lowered his hand. “Relax. I’m just explaining.”
“The mechanism behind that flashlight is based on a new energy conversion system.”
“In essence… we’ve developed a method for automatic energy recovery in laser-based weapons.”
The room went still.
Eyes widened.
Mouths hung open.
Everyone present understood what that meant: the biggest bottleneck in laser weapon deployment—the energy issue—might finally be solvable.
If true, then that flashlight wasn’t a joke.
It was a prototype.
“Let’s proceed to the vote,” Sengoku said quickly, capitalizing on the stunned silence.
The Inspectorate, still reeling, gave a collective nod.
Unanimous approval.
As the votes were tallied, Darren leaned toward Borsalino, voice low. “That technology… it’s real?”
Borsalino blew a smoke ring. “Maybe. Give it twenty years.”
Darren blinked.
He gave a slow, exaggerated thumbs-up.
Legendary.
“Finally,” Tsuru announced, closing the second file and opening the third, “we come to Commodore Darren.”
A ripple of movement passed through the room as every officer straightened in their seat.
From the back row, Kuzan stood up, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted, “Let’s go, Darren!!”
To be continued...
Chapter 368: Chapter 11: The Disgrace of the Marines
Chapter Text
“Next on the agenda is the review of Commodore Rogers Darren’s application for promotion to Headquarters Vice Admiral.”
Tsuru’s tone was measured, her voice carrying clearly through the conference room as she flipped open the final file.
“Like the two Rear Admirals before him, Commodore Darren hails from the turbulent North Blue. He began at the very bottom—a mere Marine recruit—and rose through the ranks by his own hand to become the Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines.”
“Under his leadership, the strength of the North Blue’s Marine forces has more than doubled in two years. Once infested with underworld syndicates and pirate strongholds, the region now ranks among the most peaceful and stable in the Four Blues—and even in the Grand Line.”
“Each Member State in the region publicly backs his governance. Their security and prosperity have seen marked, sustained improvements. His reforms have expanded the World Government’s authority across the North Blue in unprecedented ways.”
Her voice remained calm, but there was no denying the weight behind her words. Darren’s results were undeniable, his impact measurable.
“Beyond administrative capability,” she continued, “Commodore Darren’s battlefield record is… exceptional.”
Tsuru hesitated for the briefest moment. Despite her personal distaste for his power-hungry, womanizing ways, even she couldn’t deny the results.
“He has completed 613 missions, personally eliminating over twenty thousand pirates—including more than two thousand with bounties above ten million berries.”
“He defeated Byrnndi World, the so-called ‘World Destroyer.’ He has clashed with Whitebeard, Kaido, Charlotte Linlin, and even Gol D. Roger—and survived.”
“Most recently, he crushed the pirate fleet of the Flying Admiral, Golden Lion, and thwarted his invasion of Marineford. Were it not for Commodore Darren, Marine Headquarters would be rubble.”
A ripple ran through the audience. Veterans and fresh-faced officers alike exchanged glances of disbelief and admiration.
Even among the Admirals, pride bloomed.
Garp grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. Zephyr’s shoulders squared with barely contained pride. Kuzan’s eyes glittered, fists clenched in quiet celebration.
“…In light of his unprecedented accomplishments and unmatched service to justice,” Tsuru said at last, “Marine Headquarters formally recommends Commodore Darren for immediate promotion to Headquarters Vice Admiral.”
She closed the file and looked up.
“If anyone has any questions or objections, speak now.”
A long pause followed—tense, silent.
Darren sat relaxed at the interrogation table, radiating confidence. The Marine brass exchanged hesitant looks, each waiting for someone else to move first.
Then—
“I have a question.”
The voice rang out smug and cold, cutting through the silence like a knife.
One of the World Government officials from the Inspectorate stood slowly, the corners of his mouth twisted in a knowing smirk.
“Commodore Darren,” he began, “according to multiple intelligence reports, during your tenure in the North Blue, you… engaged in inappropriate relationships with various princesses, noblewomen, and even married officials.”
“You’ve earned the nickname ‘Marine’s Disgrace’ among some circles. Your behavior has, in our view, tarnished the dignity of the Marines.”
He paused for effect, letting his words sting. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Here it comes.
Sengoku, Zephyr, and Tsuru all stiffened, sharing a collective sense of dread. They knew this attack was inevitable.
Sengoku opened his mouth to intervene. “Personal conduct isn’t relevant to—”
“Admiral Sengoku,” the Inspectorate official cut in, smiling frostily. “Per hearing protocol, all candidates must respond to inquiries personally.”
The official turned back to Darren with mock courtesy. “We’re listening, Commodore.”
Darren didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled.
Calm. Unapologetic.
“I see no reason to explain myself.”
He sat up straighter, his voice rising with conviction. “As Supreme Commander of the North Blue Marines, I’ve always prioritized the needs of our citizens.”
“This… is compassion. The very heart of a Marine’s duty.”
The room fell still.
Sengoku stared, mouth slightly open.
Zephyr blinked in stunned silence.
Garp choked on his snack, senbei crumbs flying.
Even Borsalino raised his brows slightly behind his sunglasses.
Compassion?
The Inspectorate officials bristled with fury, their faces reddening.
You call this “compassion”? With how many royal bedrooms?!
And where, exactly, was the compassion for the men?
“This is shameless,” one official hissed.
But Darren looked utterly unfazed.
“I’ve fostered deep, cooperative ties with Member States,” he continued smoothly. “The Marine’s image has never been stronger among the upper classes. Tell me—isn’t that the goal?”
A hush fell over the room.
Even the most skeptical officers couldn’t deny the results.
At the back, Kuzan muttered to himself, “He… kind of has a point.”
Another official, eyes narrowed, rose to his feet.
“Then explain this, Commodore Darren—why does the North Blue Marine earn three times the budget of its counterparts in the other Blues?”
“The funding allocated from Headquarters is the same. Where is your additional capital coming from?”
Sengoku flinched. That question cut deeper.
Zephyr and Tsuru remained still, holding their breath.
Darren sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like a man reluctantly dragged into trivial matters.
“The North Blue is volatile,” he began calmly. “The demands are greater. The threats more severe. Our casualties are routinely the highest among the Four Blues.”
“I did what I had to do. I made sure my men were properly compensated. Fed. Equipped. Respected.”
“And if that required… creative financing…”
He looked up.
“Well, would you risk your life for peanuts?”
Sengoku’s head hit the table with a thud.
Zephyr pinched the bridge of his nose.
Garp burst out laughing, nearly tipping his chair.
But none of them could argue.
Because the truth was, despite his methods, Darren had turned the North Blue into a shining example of Marine success.
And whether they liked it or not, the Inspectorate knew it too.
To be continued...
Chapter 369: Chapter 12: "I’m a Damn Good Marine."
Chapter Text
Hearing Darren’s words, Sengoku’s eye twitched. His knuckles whitened as he clenched a fist under the table.
Brat, could you just answer the damn question without dragging everyone else down with you?
A “meager wage,” seriously?
Marine Headquarters has paid that rate for decades—no one’s ever complained before!
Even I, a Fleet Admiral, have to pinch berries just to get by…
But knowing this wasn’t the time to start arguing, Sengoku forcibly swallowed his frustration.
“Commodore Darren!” a World Government official barked, his face turning a violent shade of red. “Kindly take this hearing seriously and answer the question properly!”
“I am being serious,” Darren replied coolly. “Everything I said is true.”
“You think that answer will satisfy the council?” the official shot back, practically spitting the words.
He sneered. “Then how do you explain the unnatural deaths of several Celestial Dragons in the North Blue?!”
His voice rang with smug triumph, as though he’d finally found Darren’s fatal flaw. All eyes turned to the commodore.
Darren’s expression darkened. “I deeply regret the unfortunate losses among the World Nobility,” he said solemnly. “But the cause of those deaths has already been investigated thoroughly. I believe there’s no need for me to elaborate, is there?”
The tension in the room spiked. Then, another official—this one wearing gold-rimmed glasses—stood abruptly, waving a file in the air. “We’ve uncovered substantial sums in your personal accounts, completely disproportionate to your rank and salary. Care to explain, Commodore?”
“If you can’t provide a satisfactory account,” he added with icy relish, “we’ll have no choice but to consider corruption or bribery.”
Darren didn’t flinch. He nodded as if reflecting. “Your concern is understandable.”
The official smirked. “Then let’s hear your explanation.”
Just as Darren opened his mouth to speak, a shrill Den Den Mushi rang.
The official reached for it with a scowl and silenced the call—only for it to ring again, immediately.
Irritated, he checked the caller ID—his face changed.
“Admiral Sengoku,” he said tightly, “please allow a brief recess.”
Sengoku blinked. Mid-hearing? Now?
Still, he was more than happy to stall for Darren’s sake. “Certainly.”
The official strode briskly out of the chamber, clutching the buzzing Den Den Mushi.
But then—
Purupuru... Purupuru...
One after another, Den Den Mushi began chiming across the room.
Every Inspectorate official froze. They glanced at each other, then hurried outside to answer their calls.
“I told you I’m in a meeting!”
“What did I say about interruptions—”
“Unless this is life or death, you’re fired—”
But their bluster evaporated when they heard the voices on the other end.
“Sir... 100 million berries has just been deposited into your account at the Underground Bank.”
They froze.
“Who the hell... Is he trying to bribe us?!”
“This is outrageous!”
“Does he think we can be bought—!”
Purupuru...
A second call came in.
“Sir, another 200 million has been deposited.”
The officials went silent. Their eyes met. Then, quietly:
“Yes. Understood.”
Back in the chamber, Sengoku turned slowly to Darren.
“Are you sure you’ve got this under control?”
Darren exhaled smoke and gave a small, lazy smile.
Before Sengoku could press him, the doors swung open. The World Government officials filed back in, faces bright, posture suddenly light.
Sengoku looked on, baffled, as one of them—yes, the same one who’d been grilling Darren moments ago—stepped forward beaming.
“There’s no need for any further questioning!” he declared warmly. “Commodore Darren has served with honor. We all agree: there’s no cause to pursue such petty allegations.”
Other officials nodded in rapid succession.
“Yes, quite right.”
“After his contributions in the North Blue, it’s only natural he’d have earned some savings.”
“No need to waste his valuable time on trivial matters—let’s move forward.”
Sengoku’s jaw tightened. Tsuru stared blankly. Zephyr just sighed.
Garp tilted his head. “Huh?”
Kuzan pumped a fist from the back row. “See? They were moved by his sense of justice!”
Borsalino glanced at Darren, who was now idly puffing on his cigar again. “So... how much did you spend to make justice that moving?”
Darren gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Just showing my superiors a little love.”
The hearing, once steeped in fire and fury, now ended in harmony.
Unanimous approval.
“Well then...” Sengoku said wearily as he gathered the ballots. “One final question, Commodore Darren.”
Rogers Darren, former Supreme Commander of the North Blue, top cadet of the Elite Officer Training Camp, and soon-to-be Headquarters Vice Admiral, took another long draw from his cigar.
Then he stood, smiling calmly as he spoke.
"I smoke. I drink. I lust for money and women. I crave power. I lie. I break every rule..."
He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his voice calm, unapologetic.
"...but I’m a damn good Marine."
To be continued...
Chapter 370: Chapter 13: This Is a Warning
Chapter Text
North Blue.
Rubeck Island. Inside the Donquixote Family's grand hall, where shadows lingered beneath a dome of cold marble and filtered light.
A cigar burned idly on the coffee table, its smoke twisting lazily upward, caught in the slant of sunlight like a phantom exhale.
“So… that’s all it takes?” Doflamingo asked, setting down the Den Den Mushi. His gaze flicked upward, cool and calculating.
Before him stood Momonga, upright and unflinching in his Marine coat. He offered a faint smile. “That will suffice.”
A slow sneer curled Doflamingo’s lips, the glint behind his sunglasses sharp as glass.
“Heh heh heh… Who would've thought the World Government’s Inspectorate could be bought off with a mere 300 million berries? How embarrassingly cheap.”
“Gluttons like them,” Momonga said with a light shake of the head, “are never sated. Of course, 300 million isn’t exactly pocket change—but that’s not why they agreed.”
“Oh?” Doflamingo raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Naturally, he'd heard about the extraordinary hearing regarding Darren’s promotion to Vice Admiral—a leap virtually unheard of. But Momonga’s visit wasn’t just to inform him. It was to request a favor.
A simple one, at least by Doflamingo’s standards:
Use the underworld's network to dig up the secret stashes of those Inspectorate officials—and quietly deposit large sums into them.
For the underworld emperor of North Blue, this was child’s play.
The web of underground alliances stretched far and deep. The Donquixote Family’s tendrils reached not just across the Blues, but into the New World, where even the Underworld Emperors treated Doflamingo as a partner, not a rival.
One word from him, and the necessary channels would open like clockwork.
Momonga let out a chuckle, laced with a strange weariness.
“Their sudden change of heart wasn’t about the money. That kind of sum might mean a lifetime of comfort to an average person—but to them? It’s barely a favor.”
Doflamingo’s eyes sharpened.
Then, with a low laugh, he leaned back. “So this… is a warning.”
Momonga gave a quiet nod, admiration flickering beneath his composed exterior.
Even without being told, Doflamingo had seen through it.
If Darren hadn’t pointed it out to me himself, Momonga thought, I might have missed it too.
“Exactly. It’s not a bribe—it’s leverage. A message. If Darren could find something as sensitive as their underground accounts, then he could easily dig deeper. Much deeper.”
Momonga’s voice turned grave.
“Their mistresses, their secret children. Where they buy their suits. Their favorite wine lists. What brands of cigars they smoke. Who their doctors are. What prescriptions they’re on. Darren can trace it all.”
The implication was clear:
He could destroy them. Quietly. Permanently.
Without ever lifting a finger himself, Darren had made himself a threat that couldn’t be ignored.
Momonga didn’t need to spell out the rest—Doflamingo would understand.
Sure enough, Doflamingo crossed one leg over the other, eyes gleaming.
“Heh heh heh… this just keeps getting more interesting.”
Momonga stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat.
“Thanks for the help, Doflamingo.”
Doflamingo chuckled, stretching like a cat who’d just cornered a rat. “An honor to serve the Godfather.”
Momonga turned to leave. His footsteps echoed across the cold floor—but as he reached the towering archway, he paused.
There was a silence, thick and hesitant.
Then he said, almost offhandedly, “You know, Doflamingo… Darren actually cares about you.”
Behind his glasses, Doflamingo froze.
For a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Before he could speak, Momonga’s form shimmered into a streak of white-blue lightning—and vanished.
—
—
“Congratulations, Great Staff Officer Tsuru! The Marines are truly fortunate to gain three such outstanding officers.”
“A victory for justice, no doubt!”
“Vice Admiral Darren—what a hero! A rising legend, that one!”
“We’ll be sure to report his achievements to the Celestial Dragons.”
“......”
After the hearing, Tsuru found herself trapped in a flurry of congratulatory handshakes and saccharine smiles.
The same World Government officials who once carried themselves like aristocrats among peasants now spoke to her as if she were royalty. Their voices dripped with admiration. Their flattery was relentless.
She’d never seen the Inspectorate behave this way.
They were typically aloof, even with her—an elder stateswoman of the Marines. Their smiles had always been thin and forced, like masks stretched too tight. But today?
Warmth. Deference. Almost… fear.
It unsettled her.
In fact, Tsuru preferred their old disdain.
At least that had been honest.
What exactly had been said through those Den Den Mushi lines to trigger this transformation?
Tsuru mulled it over as she walked the quiet corridor toward her office. One thing was certain—Darren had something to do with it.
She pushed the door open and froze.
Two figures stood waiting inside.
“Gion? Tokikake?”
They turned at her voice. Gion’s face was unreadable. Tokikake looked like he’d been pacing for hours.
A smile touched Tsuru’s lips. “What brings you two here?”
Gion hesitated, her brows knitting. She opened her mouth but said nothing.
Tokikake, as always, was more direct.
“Vice Admiral Tsuru—how did the hearing go? Was it approved?”
The urgency in his voice was almost childlike.
Tsuru chuckled, settled into her seat, and nodded.
“It passed.”
The moment the words landed, Gion’s eyes lit up with a rare gleam of unguarded joy. Her fist clenched subtly at her side.
“Damn it!” Tokikake burst out, stomping once. “That bastard Darren actually got it?! What the hell are those Inspectorate fools thinking?!”
Tsuru sighed inwardly.
So their expectations hadn't been aligned after all.
With a shake of the head, she began brewing tea, the quiet clink of porcelain the only sound for a few beats.
“Well, you didn’t just come here for a status update. Out with it.”
Gion straightened, resolve solidifying in her voice.
“Tsuru-neesan, I’ve made up my mind.”
Tsuru’s eyes narrowed slightly. She turned to Tokikake.
“You too?”
Tokikake's jaw tightened. “That’s right. I’ve stayed quiet long enough.”
“If I don’t move now… that bastard Darren’s going to leave me in the dust.”
To be continued...
Chapter 371: Chapter 14: Two Devil Fruits
Chapter Text
Ah… so that’s it.
Tsuru gazed at Gion and Tokikake, their eyes fierce with determination, and a soft, knowing smile spread across her face.
They’re afraid of being left behind by Darren’s meteoric rise…
In that moment, she finally understood why Zephyr had been so adamant about establishing the “seat ranking” system at the Training Camp.
Even among the Golden Generation—brilliant, bold, and destined for greatness—there needed to be someone at the forefront. A pace-setter. A rival worth chasing.
That’s what it means to be number one.
“I see now,” Tsuru murmured.
She reached into her drawer, retrieving an old brass key, and crossed the room to a secured safe nestled in the corner. With practiced movements, she unlocked it and input a long-forgotten code.
Two polished wooden boxes emerged from the depths, each humming faintly with something old and powerful.
She set them gently on the coffee table.
Under Gion and Tokikake’s unwavering stares, Tsuru slowly opened the lids.
Within each box lay a Devil Fruit—quiet, still, yet radiating a living energy that filled the air with tension.
The one on the left was a snow-white fruit, shaped like a delicate peach with crystalline skin that shimmered in the light. The other, darker and more ominous, was banana-shaped, covered in brown scales like hardened armor.
Even dormant, they exuded overwhelming power.
Gion and Tokikake couldn't look away.
“You’re both fully aware of what it means to eat one of these,” Tsuru said, her voice gentle but firm.
They nodded.
No second chances. No second fruits. And a lifetime cursed by the sea.
Two years ago, Tsuru had prepared these very fruits for them.
Back then, both had chosen to wait. To build themselves first—master the blade, strengthen their bodies, forge unshakable foundations.
But everything had changed.
In the wake of the Marineford War, after enduring the rigorous crucible of the Training Camp, both had undergone a quiet, profound transformation. They were no longer the brash prodigies they once were.
Now they were warriors—armed with Rokushiki, disciplined in Haki, and ready to wield their Devil Fruits not as shortcuts, but as weapons honed by earned strength.
Urgency now gripped them like a vice.
The war had exposed a gap—a vast, cold chasm between them and the strongest in the world. And more than anything… they could feel Darren slipping out of reach.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Gion stepped forward first.
With delicate fingers, she picked up the snow-white fruit, peeled off a sliver of its skin, and placed it on her tongue.
Her face stiffened immediately. Her brows knitted, and a grimace took hold.
Watching her reaction, Tokikake burst into laughter.
“Pfft—! That bad, huh?”
He swaggered forward, eyes glinting with anticipation, steam practically whistling from his nose.
Rolling up his sleeves, he locked eyes with the scaled fruit, grinning like a wolf.
“Oh-ho, little darling. You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?”
He cackled.
“Once I eat you, that bastard Darren’s not gonna be so smug anymore!”
“Heheheh… From this moment on…”
He seized the fruit, opened his jaw wide, and shoved the entire thing in.
“I, Tokikake, the genius of Marine Headquarters, will—”
The words cut off.
Tokikake froze.
The color drained from his face, replaced by a sickly, ashen pallor. A violet tinge spread across his cheeks like poison blooming beneath the skin.
Gulp.
He swallowed.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
He doubled over, hacking violently, tears and mucus streaming down his face like a broken faucet.
“IT TASTES LIKE FUCKING DEATH!!”
He wheezed between gags, his voice ragged with betrayal.
Tsuru and Gion stared at him, unmoving.
Their expressions slowly… changed.
—
Several days later.
Marine Headquarters. The old port, long abandoned but still echoing with ghosts of training past.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Fist after fist slammed into battered marine ship hulls, each impact unleashing a quake of compressed air that rippled outward like thunder.
Two towering figures stood in the sun, facing down rusted warships like titans in a sparring match with mountains.
Their sweat hit the ground in heavy drops. Their breathing came in ragged bursts.
But their eyes were locked forward. Unyielding.
“HAH! Darren! I’m catching up, you bastard!”
Kuzan let out a roar of laughter as his punch punched a crater into steel, shattered splinters of hull raining down like shrapnel.
But Darren didn’t respond. He was too focused.
Locked in. Breathing steady. His eyes saw only the target in front of him.
Nearby, beneath a wide sun umbrella:
Garp lounged in a beach chair, floral shirt fluttering in the breeze, legs crossed comfortably. He crunched loudly on a bag of Senbei rice crackers, each bite echoing in the silence like gunfire.
“Honestly, Garp, this is the height of irresponsibility.”
Zephyr’s sharp voice rang out behind him.
Arms crossed, brow furrowed, Zephyr marched up beside the umbrella and glared down at the older man.
“You’re really just lying there watching?”
Garp let out a booming laugh. “You wouldn’t get it! This is my secret training method!”
“Secret training—?” Zephyr gave him a long, skeptical look.
Then a memory stirred.
The battle on Coin Island. Sengoku’s report had mentioned something odd—how Darren, in the heat of battle, had thrown a punch eerily similar to Garp’s.
Not just raw power, but something deeper. Refined. Signature.
Even after taking a critical wound from the Golden Lion’s blade, Darren had managed to land that one earthshaking blow.
Could it be…? This old man really did teach him something?
“Hah! You’re damn right I did!” Garp said proudly, catching the look on Zephyr’s face.
“Well? What is it?” Zephyr leaned in, genuinely intrigued.
He wasn’t a frontline fighter anymore. His heart now lay in training the next generation. If Garp had a method—even a crazy one—he wanted it.
Garp leaned over conspiratorially.
“It’s simple…”
Zephyr leaned closer.
“...You let ’em experience it firsthand.”
Zephyr blinked. “…Meaning?”
Then realization dawned.
Wait—doesn’t that just mean punching them until they figure it out themselves?!
A dark line slid down Zephyr’s temple.
I should’ve known better than to take this geezer seriously…!
Just then, Darren and Kuzan returned, sweat-drenched but smiling, their muscles still twitching from exertion.
“Zephyr-sensei, you’re here!” Kuzan said sheepishly, scratching his head.
“Zephyr-sensei,” Darren greeted, calm and composed.
Zephyr’s eyes flicked between the two. “You’ve both come a long way lately.”
He clapped Kuzan on the shoulder, then turned to Darren.
“Darren, I came to ask about tomorrow’s Training Camp graduation. Are you prepared for the ceremony?”
Darren’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“I’ve been ready for a long time, Zephyr-sensei.”
Zephyr blinked, momentarily taken aback.
There was something about that smile—easy, quiet, but carrying an undercurrent of danger. A sense of mischief. Like the calm before a storm.
A bad feeling tugged at Zephyr’s gut, but he couldn't quite place why.
To be continued...
Chapter 372: Chapter 15: Recuperation and Quiet Resolve
Chapter Text
The next day.
Early morning light spilled through the towering windows of the Fleet Admiral’s office, casting golden reflections on the polished marble floor. Though the sun bathed the room in warmth, a palpable tension lingered in the air.
Fleet Admiral Kong looked worn. The lines etched into his weathered face had deepened after his return from the Holy Land, and the sharpness in his eyes was dulled by fatigue.
Across from him, Sengoku and Tsuru stood in patient silence, their hands stiff at their sides. They waited—not with Marine discipline, but with the barely restrained urgency of those who had been carrying the weight of a broken world.
“So?” Tsuru finally ventured, her voice quiet but steady. “Fleet Admiral Kong?”
Kong didn’t answer immediately. He wiped his brow with a folded handkerchief, then lit a cigar with a practiced flick. Smoke curled up into the sunlight as he took a long drag. When he exhaled, a faint smile broke through his exhaustion.
“It wasn’t easy,” he said, voice low. “But the World Government approved it.”
Sengoku let out a triumphant shout, punching the air before quickly composing himself. Tsuru sighed, long and deep, the weight easing from her shoulders.
This was the news they’d been waiting for.
Kong’s mission to Mary Geoise had gone beyond ceremonial updates or symbolic presence. He had gone to beg.
Beg for funding—for the rebuilding of Marineford, for hospitals, for mourning families and fallen soldiers.
The Golden Lion’s reckless onslaught had left more than scars on stone. Homes had been reduced to ash. Civilians had died in droves, caught in a storm they never asked to be part of. And when Big Mom’s summoned army of soul beasts had surged across Marineford’s borders, it had taken everything just to hold the line.
The numbers were staggering. Fifty thousand civilians dead. Fifteen thousand Marines lost in combat. Tens of thousands more wounded. These weren’t just figures—they were lives, families, legacies shattered in a single war.
And for days now, Sengoku and Tsuru had been running themselves ragged, trying to juggle rebuilding, compensation, logistics, and morale—without enough funds to even feed their recovery teams.
The Marineford War hadn’t just broken bones. It had drained the soul of the Marines.
Now, at last, they could begin to mend.
Kong leaned back in his chair and blew another stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
“How have things been in my absence?”
The question carried the weight of authority. Sengoku straightened at once, setting aside his previous excitement.
“Reporting, Fleet Admiral. Marineford is stable. Reconstruction is progressing according to schedule. With this new funding, we’ll be able to continue relief operations, support the wounded, and resume standard defensive operations.”
Kong nodded slowly.
Sengoku was many things—a war hero, a tactician, a martial powerhouse—but it was his versatility, his ability to shoulder both battlefield leadership and bureaucratic burden, that had made him the clear successor.
Kong’s eyes narrowed slightly. “By the way, how did the hearing for those three brats go—Sakazuki and them?”
He chuckled dryly, as if recalling something amusing. “When I passed through Mary Geoise, those Inspectorate vultures wouldn’t shut up about Darren. Said he was extraordinarily gifted, over and over again.”
Sengoku and Tsuru exchanged glances. The memory of that hearing was still fresh in their minds—and deeply puzzling.
“The hearing was... smooth, in the end,” Tsuru said carefully. “But halfway through, those hard-liners suddenly shifted their stance. They were grilling Darren relentlessly—until a Den Den Mushi call came through.”
Kong raised a brow but dismissed it with a wave. “Forget it. Whatever he did, it worked.”
“That kid’s sharp. If he found a way to sway those self-important snakes, then it only proves his value.”
He paused, then took another drag of his cigar.
“One more thing.”
Sengoku stood a bit straighter. “Please proceed, Fleet Admiral.”
Kong’s tone hardened. “The Training Camp graduation is today, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. Representatives from every major paper have already arrived. The official promotion ceremony for Sakazuki and the others will be held alongside it.”
“Hmm…”
Kong leaned forward, fingers tapping the desk in thought. “What’s Zephyr’s status? There won’t be a repeat of the last two ceremonies, will there?”
His face soured, as if recalling an old wound.
Sengoku’s lip twitched, a mix of amusement and restraint. “No issues this time. Zephyr’s already briefed Darren thoroughly. I believe we’ll have a smooth ceremony.”
Kong nodded. “Good. The last thing we need right now is another public embarrassment.”
His gaze turned steely.
“Though we held the line at Marineford, let’s not pretend it was a victory. The war was a disaster. We lost far too much. The men know it. Morale is scraping the bottom of the sea.”
He looked to the window, where the Oval Military Port shimmered in the morning sun.
“That’s why today matters. If Darren—the one who stood tall during that hell—delivers the keynote speech, it might spark something again. Might remind our soldiers that this isn’t the end.”
“But the media campaign must remain... restrained. For now, our watchword is stability. No more large-scale movements. No more heroics. Just solid, steady rebuilding. Headquarters needs to get its feet back under it.”
His voice softened—barely.
“We’re in no shape to start another war.”
Beneath the calm, Kong’s eyes gleamed with warning.
The funds he’d secured were enough to stop the bleeding. But not nearly enough for another offensive.
And they wouldn’t be, for some time.
Fortunately, the tides had calmed. The Golden Lion had disappeared once more into the mists of the New World, his whereabouts unknown. Even Big Mom and Kaido had gone quiet—too quiet, perhaps, but quiet all the same.
It was a fragile peace.
But it was peace.
And in this rare moment of calm, the Marines could finally rebuild—quietly, steadily, preparing for the day the seas stirred again.
And when that day came, they would be ready.
To be continued...
Chapter 373: Chapter 16: They Can Wait
Chapter Text
Steam curled from the open bathroom door as Darren stepped out, towel slung low around his waist. He moved with unhurried ease, droplets trailing down his skin like fading echoes of battle.
He stopped at the mirror, wiped the fog away with a swipe of his hand, and met the eyes staring back at him.
Sharp, calculating. Alive with fire.
His face was striking—handsome in a way that defied polish. His features were all angles and tension: hawk-like eyes beneath blade-thin brows, a high nose, and a mouth that curved in something between a smirk and a challenge. Damp black hair jutted upward in untamed spikes, giving him the look of a man forever poised to rebel.
His bare torso was a sculpture of raw, tempered strength—broad chest, lean waist, muscle honed by war. Scars ran like quiet rivers across his skin, marking the stories he no longer needed to tell.
A predator’s body. A fighter’s stillness.
“Finally,” Darren murmured to his reflection, lips curling as he lit a cigarette. “The moment’s here.”
Today was the day.
The graduation ceremony for Marine Headquarters’ Elite Officer Training Camp.
And with it, his formal promotion to Vice Admiral.
In the original story of this world, Vice Admirals often felt like mere footnotes—standard-bearers of justice who rarely left much of an impression. But after living in this world, Darren understood the truth.
A Vice Admiral wasn’t a prop.
A Marine Vice Admiral was a fortress.
They wielded both Armament and Observation Haki with precision, mastered advanced combat techniques that bordered on the supernatural, and often stood toe-to-toe with the most dangerous criminals alive. The best of them could even challenge the Shichibukai.
And that was only their power.
Their authority? A personal fleet. Thousands of elite soldiers under command. The right to suppress whole regions in the name of the World Government.
They were the guardians of the seas. The teeth of justice.
And now, after years of clawing his way up from the gutters of Marine life—literally scrubbing toilets when he first arrived—Darren had earned it.
Every scar, every loss, every silent decision made in the dark…
It had all led to this.
“Husband.”
The soft voice behind him was warm and melodic.
Toki stepped into the room, barefoot, a fresh uniform folded in her arms. She wore a loose, flowing kimono that fluttered gently around her frame, her hair pinned up, her eyes radiant with affection.
“I brought your uniform,” she said with a tender smile.
Darren took the cigarette from his lips and nodded. “Thanks, Toki.”
She shook her head softly. “Today is your day. I’m proud of you.”
Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Are you nervous?”
Darren gave a low chuckle.
“Nervousness is for those who wonder if they deserve the moment. I don’t.”
He stepped forward, snuffed out the cigarette, and slid one arm around her waist. His hand fit easily around her slender frame. With a gentle pull, the sash of her kimono slipped loose, the fabric falling away like silk off porcelain.
Toki let out a soft gasp, blushing.
“H-husband… the ceremony—it’s starting soon. Everyone’s waiting…”
She bit her lip, flustered, breath catching in her throat.
Darren’s eyes darkened with desire.
“They can wait,” he whispered. “But I can’t.”
He leaned in.
She didn’t resist.
---
Marineford Plaza overflowed with bodies.
The crimson carpet that stretched from the ceremonial dais gleamed under the noonday sun. Elite Marines in full dress uniform lined its path with stoic discipline, creating a corridor of honor that split the crowd like a knife.
At the head of the plaza stood the dais, surrounded by the highest echelons of Marine power:
Fleet Admiral Kong, the Iron Backbone of the organization.
Admiral Sengoku, the Buddha, master strategist and living legend.
Zephyr, the former admiral now revered as the hammer who shaped generations.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, the sharp-eyed tactician known for her unflinching resolve.
And Vice Admiral Garp, the Hero of the Marines, seated with arms folded and expression unreadable.
Beyond them, the audience was a vast sea of rank and file: Commodores and Rear Admirals, commanders from bases across the Blues, and elite officers gathered from around the Grand Line.
Officials from the World Government filled the front-row seats. Royal dignitaries and nobles from member nations sat in silken luxury nearby.
And further back, journalists from every corner of the world waved microphones and jostled for position, desperate to catch every word, every shift of expression.
The graduation ceremony of the Elite Officer Training Camp had become a global event.
Under Zephyr’s leadership, the camp had become legendary. First, it gave the world Sakazuki and Borsalino—monsters who rose swiftly to prominence. Then came Kuzan and Darren, two more prodigies who had proved their might in the fires of the Marineford War.
Some called them the “Golden Generation.” Others whispered that they were the future.
Today, they would step into the light.
Ranks would be confirmed. Assignments unveiled. Medals awarded for the Marineford War.
It was everything the world wanted to see.
And yet…
In the front row, Fleet Admiral Kong’s brow twitched.
He turned slowly to glare at Sengoku and Zephyr.
“Where the hell is that Darren brat?” he growled.
“He was notified, wasn’t he?! What’s he doing?!”
Neither Sengoku nor Zephyr spoke at first.
Because the truth, perhaps, was better left unsaid.
To be continued...
Chapter 374: Chapter 17: Graduation Ceremony
Chapter Text
“What the hell is he doing?!”
Kong shot a glance at his watch, his brow furrowing ever deeper. His voice, though measured, carried a sharp undercurrent of irritation.
The ceremony was supposed to begin within minutes. The guests were seated. The dignitaries were in place. The red carpet had been rolled out, the soldiers standing at attention.
And yet—Darren, the linchpin of the entire affair, was nowhere to be seen.
If it were anyone else, the ceremony could have gone on without issue. But Darren wasn’t just anyone.
He was the star.
The hero of Marineford. The one who had single-handedly destroyed the Golden Lion’s infamous Flying Fleet. The unrivaled top graduate of the Elite Officer Training Camp.
A prodigy. A war hero. A symbol of the Marines’ future.
He was the reason the world’s press had descended upon Marineford. The reason the ceremony had been elevated to a global broadcast. The one person whose presence—and whose speech—could lift the sagging morale of the Marines and reignite their fractured spirit.
Without him, this wasn’t a celebration.
It was a hollow performance.
Sengoku stood frozen, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. “Fleet Admiral Kong, I’ve already dispatched someone to look for him,” he said quickly. “Darren’s never been one to shirk duty. I’m sure something just—”
Kong exhaled slowly, smoke hissing from his nostrils. He didn’t speak, but his silence thundered louder than words.
His recent trip to the Holy Land had tested every ounce of patience he had left. Begging for funding from the World Government while enduring the Gorosei’s sneering mockery had felt like swallowing broken glass. He’d done it for the sake of the Marines. For the fallen. For justice.
And now this?
“Then we wait,” Kong said at last, voice tight.
One minute passed.
Then three.
Then five.
Ten…
By fifteen minutes, Sengoku’s back was soaked with sweat. His throat was dry.
“Fleet Admiral,” he began cautiously, “perhaps we should start. Darren’s segment is at the end. He can still appear before the close.”
Kong’s jaw clenched. A vein pulsed on his temple.
“…Fine,” he said curtly.
Sengoku signaled the staff.
And with that, a low, solemn note from a military bugle rippled through the square.
The crowd quieted. The air seemed to still. Excitement simmered just below the surface, held in check only by the weight of ceremony.
Then a tall figure rose from the front row.
Short-cropped purple hair. Dark sunglasses. A cloak billowing softly in the breeze. He moved with calm, deliberate steps, every motion echoing dignity and command.
Zephyr.
The Black Arm himself.
The reporters surged forward, cameras clicking like gunfire as he climbed the steps to the central dais.
Facing the sea of Marines and civilians before him, Zephyr raised a hand in crisp salute.
“I am Zephyr,” he declared, voice resonant. “Chief Instructor of the Marine Headquarters Elite Officer Training Camp.”
“I now officially declare the graduation ceremony for the Third Elite Officer Training Camp… open!”
The moment the words left his mouth, the plaza erupted.
A storm of cheers thundered from every corner. Marines sprang to attention. Civilians shouted, waved, cried. Even the far-flung corners of the world, watching through the glowing screens of Visual Den Den Mushi, felt the tremor of history unfolding.
This was more than a ceremony.
It was a declaration.
Zephyr opened his arms wide, a rare laugh escaping his lips. “Now—let’s welcome the graduating class of the Elite Officer Training Camp!”
Every head turned.
At the far end of the crimson carpet, a line of young figures emerged.
Their steps were sure. Their uniforms gleamed. The white of their cloaks caught the sunlight and turned it into banners of hope.
They looked like they were walking out of legend.
“They’re here!!”
“That’s Commander Gion—our ‘Marine’s Flower’! Gorgeous and deadly!”
“Kuzan! Captain Kuzan’s really here! He froze half the battlefield during the war!”
“Is that Yamakaji? He looks like he walked out of a tea shop!”
“Doberman! Look at that sword! That guy’s as serious as they come!”
“Wait—shorts? Who shows up in shorts?!”
“Shhh! That’s Tokikake! They say he’s as strong as a Vice Admiral already—don’t let the toothpick fool you!”
The crowd buzzed like a living thing.
Gion walked with elegant precision, her high ponytail swinging behind her like a banner.
Kuzan yawned mid-step, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
Tokikake strolled like he owned the world, flip-flops slapping and toothpick bouncing.
Yamakaji smiled politely, a little overwhelmed.
Doberman’s hands twitched, sweat beading along his palms.
Dalmatian adjusted his spotted cap with a quiet nod.
Onigumo glared straight ahead, his cold gaze unmoving.
The Golden Generation.
The names that would echo across the seas.
The crowd cheered as if welcoming royalty. Marines straightened their backs. Reporters practically threw themselves at the front lines, clicking and scribbling as fast as their hands could move.
Sengoku’s hands came together in a slow, thoughtful clap.
His eyes didn’t move from the young officers.
So much like we were… back then.
He could see himself in them. Could see the fire. The foolishness. The ideals.
The decades had passed in a blur—friends lost, enemies risen, battles waged again and again. From Rocks to Whitebeard. From Big Mom to Kaido. The tides never stopped.
Only the names changed.
Crunch. Crunch.
A loud chewing noise snapped Sengoku from his thoughts.
He turned, already knowing what he’d find.
“Garp! For god’s sake—would you stop eating during the ceremony?!”
Garp gave a lazy grin, munching cheerfully on a fistful of senbei.
Sengoku fumed.
Some things never change.
To be continued...
Chapter 375: Chapter 18: The Outstanding Students
Chapter Text
The crowd surged like a restless tide.
From his place atop the high platform, Zephyr watched the young figures approach, step by steady step. Behind the dark tint of his sunglasses, his eyes were faintly rimmed red, his smile soft with pride.
He straightened unconsciously, chest out, back rigid, a soldier to the last.
For him, no medal, no accolade, no title could match this moment—seeing the students he had personally trained stride into their futures beneath the world’s gaze, carrying the burning ember of Justice in their hearts. This was the greatest satisfaction a Chief Instructor could ever know.
Below the platform, the cadets of the Training Camp stood in perfect formation, awaiting their turn. One by one, they would walk up to claim the fruits of their hard work.
First came Kuzan.
He sauntered forward, hands in pockets, stifling a yawn. With deliberate laziness, he raised a hand in salute.
“Zephyr-sensei,” he drawled.
Zephyr’s smile twitched. “Kuzan, snap out of it! This is a live broadcast to the whole world—and the press is all over the place!” he hissed.
Kuzan scratched his head, voice flat as a becalmed sea. “But, Zephyr-sensei… Darren’s not here. Hard to feel the hype.”
A deep vein throbbed in Zephyr’s temple. His jaw tightened.
Still, he motioned for a guard to bring the ceremonial cloak. Taking it in both hands, he straightened and announced in a ringing voice that carried to every corner of the square:
“Captain Kuzan of Marine Headquarters has shown exceptional valor and strength during the Marineford War. On behalf of Marine Headquarters, I hereby confer upon you the rank of Rear Admiral!”
He draped the heavy white coat over Kuzan’s shoulders, fixing the younger man with a burning gaze. His smile softened. “Congratulations, Rear Admiral Kuzan. Now… a few words.”
Kuzan ambled toward the microphone, eyes half-closed. His air of sleepy indifference was almost a parody of the solemn atmosphere. Facing the expectant crowd, he scratched his head.
Then Zephyr stepped close, murmuring in his ear, “Darren will be here soon. Don’t let him outshine you.”
The shift was instant.
Kuzan’s eyes lit with sudden fire. His posture straightened. Then he flung his arm high, flashing a jaunty “V” sign.
“That’s right!” he boomed, his voice suddenly electric. “I am Darren’s arch-rival for life—Kuzan! And I’ll never lose to him!”
The crowd blinked at the transformation.
Before Zephyr could relax, Kuzan pivoted toward the audience. “Oh, and Mr. Garp!” he called. “I heard you beat ‘Red the Aloof’ Redfield and turned down a promotion. That’s so badass!”
“Hah—!” Garp’s bark of laughter was cut short as Sengoku slapped a hand over his mouth.
And then Zephyr’s hand clamped over Kuzan’s face. Without a word, the Chief Instructor dragged him bodily offstage, the younger man’s legs kicking helplessly.
Kong: “……”
Sengoku: “……”
Tsuru: “……”
From the audience, Garp managed to wave. “Bwahaha! Kuzan, you’re pretty—mmph! Sengoku! Let go!”
The stunned silence of the crowd hung heavy… until Zephyr strode stiffly back onto the platform.
He cleared his throat twice. “Ahem. Next.”
Gion stepped forward, the click of her high heels crisp in the charged air. The golden hilt of her katana gleamed at her side; her bearing was poised, her salute sharp.
“Zephyr-sensei!”
This—this was the kind of student that made Zephyr proud.
“Commander Gion of Marine Headquarters,” he declared, “for your outstanding service in the Marineford War, and your exemplary academic and martial achievements, I hereby promote you to Commodore!”
He settled the justice cloak over her shoulders.
Gion turned to the microphone, her voice clear, steady, and concise. “All glory belongs to Justice.”
Applause swelled, rolling like thunder. The earlier absurdity seemed to melt away. High-ranking officers in the audience exchanged smiles.
“As expected of Gion.”
“Her talent, strength, and presence are exceptional.”
“Tsuru, your sister is truly remarkable.”
The warmth of shared pride filled the air.
Until—
From the crowd, a lanky figure in flip-flops and shorts strolled onto the stage, brown hat tipped low, toothpick dancing between his teeth. Tokikake swaggered forward as though the ceremony existed for him alone.
Zephyr’s lips twitched. He had a bad feeling.
“Zephyr-sensei!” Tokikake barked, snapping a sloppy salute.
“…Energetic as ever,” Zephyr said dryly. Then, briskly: “Commander Tokikake of Marine Headquarters, for your merits in the Marineford War, you are hereby promoted to Commodore!”
Zephyr slipped the justice coat over his shoulders. “No speech necessary,” he whispered. “Just—”
But Tokikake had already vanished, reappearing at the microphone in a flash of Soru.
Zephyr closed his eyes.
Tokikake gripped the stand, cheeks flushed, chest swelling with grandiose self-importance. Play it cool, he told himself. This is your moment. Outshine Darren.
“Greetings, everyone!” he began, voice pitched to the rafters. “Yes, it’s me—Tokikake, genius of Marine Headquarters! You’ve all heard my name! I’m the man who stands with the monsters, the future Admiral, the very future of Justice itself!”
He threw back his head and laughed, hands on hips. Then, spotting a cluster of women in the crowd, his grin turned sly.
“Also… good news, ladies. I’m still a golden bachelor! So whether you’re single—or, ah… unhappily married—don’t be shy. Come see this perfect physique for yourself. My Den Den Mushi number is—”
BOOM!
A black fist smashed into his face, sending him cartwheeling through the air like a shot from a cannon. Sunlight flashed off the lone tooth that spiraled down from his mouth.
“Zephyr-sensei! Please, calm down!”
“Sir, stop! You’ll kill him!”
But Zephyr roared like a man possessed, struggling against the Marines holding him back. “Let me go! I’ll finish that idiot here and now!”
To be continued...
Chapter 376: Chapter 19: The Monster's Conferment
Chapter Text
Order returned to the square—at least on the surface.
Below the platform, Marines sat stiff-backed, shoulders twitching, lips pressed thin as they struggled to keep straight faces.
Up on the high stage, Zephyr stood breathing hard, a storm of emotions darkening his expression. A vein pulsed visibly at his temple.
Kong rubbed at his temples, grimacing. Leaning toward Sengoku, whose mouth twitched with barely contained exasperation, he muttered darkly, “Contact every news outlet the second this is over. That entire segment—cut it.”
Sengoku nodded. “Already done, Fleet Admiral.”
Only then did Kong exhale.
“Next!” Zephyr barked.
From the ranks below, Yamakaji ran a hand over his buzz cut, gulped hard, and stepped forward. “Z–Zephyr-sensei!”
The sheer force of Zephyr’s glare made him flinch before snapping to a rigid salute. Zephyr took him in—earnest, solid, dependable—and forced a faint smile.
“Not half bad, kid.”
He flicked a glance toward Kuzan, who sat in a crouch yawning, and Tokikake, whose swollen, purpled face winced at every breath. A dull ache tugged in Zephyr’s chest.
Taking the justice coat from a guard, he settled it over Yamakaji’s broad shoulders with solemn dignity.
“Captain Yamakaji distinguished himself in the Marineford War, protecting civilians and rescuing the wounded without rest. You embody the very spirit of the Marine ideal.”
His voice carried strong and clear: “On behalf of Marine Headquarters, I hereby promote you to Commodore!”
He clasped Yamakaji’s shoulder. “Keep striving. Uphold the justice you believe in.”
“Yes, Zephyr-sensei!” Yamakaji straightened even further, chest swelling with pride.
“Go,” Zephyr said warmly, waving him off.
After Kuzan and Tokikake’s public disasters, he wasn’t risking another speech. His heart—and the Marines’ dignity—couldn’t take a third hit. The rest would receive their honors in silence.
And so the ceremony found its rhythm again.
One by one they came: Onigumo. Doberman. Dalmatian. Strawberry. Resolute, steady, proud. The applause swelled with each name. The smiles of Zephyr, Sengoku, and the other senior officers grew steadily wider.
In under half an hour, all had been decorated—save for one conspicuously absent name.
They now stood in a neat row behind Zephyr, their justice coats—white as the seagull flags snapping above them—billowing in the sharp sea wind. Each young officer radiated the bright, unyielding spirit of ambition.
From the front row, Kong’s mood soured again. He leaned toward Sengoku. “Where’s that brat Darren? What’s he pulling now?”
Sengoku dabbed at his brow. “Any moment, Fleet Admiral. In the meantime… shall we handle Sakazuki and Borsalino?”
Kong scowled. “Fine.”
The two men rose abruptly, drawing every gaze. The media shifted forward; camera lenses gleamed.
Kong strode to the podium, his deep voice rolling over the assembly. “In the Marineford War, Headquarters stood unshakable. Among the brightest of our young generation…”
He let the words hang. Then: “Sakazuki. Step forward!”
From the far end of the plaza, a crimson silhouette advanced.
His sharp features were cut in stone, black boots gleaming. A scarlet rose bloomed against his chest like a drop of fresh blood.
Rear Admiral Sakazuki—the “Monster” of the Marines.
A chill swept the crowd as he passed. His tread was measured, relentless—each step identical, like the ticking of an ancient clock.
“Zephyr-sensei.” He saluted with the precision of a blade’s edge.
Zephyr’s smile was faint but approving. “It’s your day at last, Sakazuki. Well done.”
“I am grateful for your guidance,” came the low, deliberate reply.
Kong stepped forward, taking the coat from a guard. “I look forward to the day I place the Fleet Admiral’s mantle on your shoulders.”
With solemn weight, he settled the Vice Admiral’s coat over Sakazuki. “In the name of the Fleet Admiral, I promote you to Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters.”
Sakazuki stepped aside.
“Borsalino. Step forward!”
Silence.
“Borsalino!” Kong barked again.
Light shimmered in the air. Countless golden motes spun together into a lanky figure, hands raised in mock surrender.
“Coming, coming…” Borsalino drawled, his face a picture of feigned innocence. “Almost missed my turn.”
Kong’s jaw flexed. For one heartbeat, he understood—deeply—why Zephyr had almost throttled Kuzan and Tokikake.
Suppressing the urge to swing, he pushed through the formality. “By my authority as Fleet Admiral, I promote Borsalino to Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters.”
He all but shoved the coat at him.
The crowd sensed it—the pause before the storm. All heads turned toward the plaza entrance.
Waiting.
Then he appeared.
Short, unruly black hair framed a face sharpened by sunlight. A cigar clenched in his teeth sent a thin curl of smoke drifting upward. Tall and broad-shouldered, a silver-white longsword hung at his side. The knot of his black tie sat crooked, but on him, it only deepened the impression of a man who refused to be tamed.
Beneath the afternoon sun, that striking face—handsome yet dangerous—lit with a glint of wild defiance.
The square erupted.
Cheers surged like a breaking wave. Civilians and Marines alike shouted themselves hoarse; reporters’ flashes sparked like gunfire; women’s voices rose in a chorus of shrill excitement.
Marine Headquarters Commodore—Rogers Darren.
The King of the North Blue. The man who had cast off the name “monster” and carved his own legend.
To be continued...
Chapter 377: Chapter 20: Victory or Defeat
Chapter Text
The moment he appeared, the plaza erupted into chaos.
Reporters surged forward like wolves on the scent of blood, shoving for the best angle. Cameras flashed like lightning.
“Hahaha! It’s Darren! Darren’s finally here!”
Kuzan, bored moments before, sprang upright, eyes blazing, waving his arms like a madman. Beside him, Tokikake caught the women’s shrieks and scoffed. “Tch. Stealing my thunder again.”
A flash of emotion flickered across Gion’s cool, composed face—the faint, unguarded sparkle of someone who couldn’t hide her delight.
Sengoku let out a long breath. Thank the seas. If Darren hadn’t shown, Kong would’ve burst a blood vessel.
The roar of the crowd was deafening.
“That’s Commodore Darren!”
“He single-handedly razed the Beast Pirates’ headquarters!”
“That’s old news! He destroyed Golden Lion’s entire flying armada!”
“Is that Enma at his hip? The blade that pierced an island in one strike?”
“No—Enma’s black. That one’s silver. And gods, it’s beautiful.”
“They call him a monster… but he’s more like a knight.”
“He’s so handsome! Darren, marry me!”
“I love you, Darren!!”
Darren had it all—strength, fame, wealth, legend, looks, and the rare charm that made people want to follow him anywhere. Men wanted to be him. Women wanted to be with him.
Bathed in adoration, Darren walked the red carpet with the ease of a man born for it. No stage fright, no nerves—only the certainty of someone who belonged here.
He mounted the steps in a steady stride and saluted crisply. “Fleet Admiral Kong! Admiral Sengoku! Zephyr-sensei!”
All three leaders smiled, approval in their eyes. Compared to Sakazuki’s grim severity, Borsalino’s sly laziness, and Kuzan’s languid air, Darren was every inch the Marine poster boy. He radiated the kind of presence that made the world want to believe in the uniform.
Sengoku tried to scowl. “Why so late, brat?”
Zephyr chuckled. “He’s here, isn’t he? That’s what matters.”
Kong’s grin was genuine. “Been waiting for this day, Darren.”
“Yes, Fleet Admiral,” Darren replied with a faint smile.
Kong turned to the crowd, voice booming over the sea of faces. “Commodore Rogers Darren has earned countless honors, shone in the Marineford War, and graduated from the Elite Officer Training Camp with the highest scores on record. After careful deliberation, I hereby promote him to Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters!”
Cheers thundered. Kong unfurled the white justice coat and settled it on Darren’s shoulders. “Carry this honor well, Darren. Carry Justice.”
Darren’s salute was sharp. “All glory belongs to Justice!”
The applause rolled again, Kuzan nearly crushing his palms together. “That’s my rival!” he muttered fervently.
Zephyr grinned. “Your turn to speak, kid.”
Encouraging nods came from Kong and Sengoku.
Darren stepped to the microphone. The cheers ebbed into an expectant hush. Reporters poised pens and recording snails. Every gaze locked on him.
Here it comes.
Looking out over the sea of faces—rows of crisp uniforms, ranks of brass, cameras glinting like a wall of eyes—Darren felt a fire stir inside him. Zephyr had told him to inspire the Marines.
Oh, I will. Just not the way you think.
He smiled faintly.
“Today,” he began, voice rich and steady, “is a day for celebration. This ceremony follows the great battle at Marineford, when our righteous forces crushed the grand ambition of the pirate Golden Lion Shiki. He dreamed of storming Marineford—of dragging the world’s strongest fortress into the depths! He hurled an entire island at us!”
Darren’s fist clenched high.
“But he failed! And he was destined to fail! We proved an unshakable truth: the Marine is the strongest force on these seas! Not Golden Lion, not Big Mom, not Kaido could breach our sacred fortress!”
Marines in the crowd swelled with pride.
“Justice will prevail!” someone shouted.
“We are the strongest!” echoed another.
The chants grew. Behind Darren, Kong, Sengoku, and Zephyr exchanged pleased glances. The kid knows how to work a crowd.
Darren let the cheers crest before raising his voice again. “Yes—Justice will prevail. I know this better than anyone.”
He paused.
Then slammed his fist down on the podium.
Wood splintered under the blow.
“But all this—” his voice turned to a savage roar “—is nothing but self-deceiving bullshit!!”
The words hit like a cannon blast. Gasps rippled through the plaza.
“This was no glorious victory!”
Kong, Sengoku, and Zephyr’s smiles froze. Color drained from their faces.
“The Marineford War—” Darren’s eyes burned, his voice cutting like a blade “—was a complete and utter failure!!”
To be continued...
Chapter 378: Chapter 21: Answer Me!
Chapter Text
“The Marineford War… was a complete and utter failure!!”
The newly appointed Vice Admiral’s roar detonated through the plaza, carried by speakers and broadcast in real time through Visual Den Den Mushi to every Marine branch across the Grand Line.
In that instant, Marines in every corner of the world froze before their screens, staring at the fierce-eyed officer as if struck by lightning. The blood drained from their faces.
A deathly silence swallowed the square.
No one moved. No one breathed.
“The Marineford War… a colossal failure?”
“But we repelled Golden Lion’s invasion.”
“That was Golden Lion Shiki! He dropped a floating island on us—”
“And we still held the line!”
“This is supposed to be a celebration, not a funeral.”
“Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku called it a great victory…”
Murmurs rippled, uncertain and angry, all eyes snapping toward the man on the stage.
Behind Darren, Kong, Sengoku, and Zephyr stood as if blindsided.
This… this wasn’t the plan!
He was supposed to inspire them, not tear the war to pieces!
What the hell is he doing?
Even Gion’s steady composure faltered. Borsalino tilted his head with amused curiosity. Sakazuki cracked his eyes open, a cold gleam flickering inside.
Then—
“Vice Admiral Darren! I disagree! We won that war!” a young soldier burst out, voice shaking.
“That’s right—we defended our home!” barked a Marine Commander, rising to his feet.
A Commodore added fiercely, “You saved this island! But you can’t erase the sacrifice of everyone else who fought and died!”
From the crowd, a little girl ran forward, tears streaking her face. “My brother… Captain Spitt… died protecting Marineford! How can you call that a failure?!”
One after another, Marines and civilians stood, their voices rising—not against Darren’s heroism, but against his verdict.
They could not, would not, let anyone steal the word “victory” from them.
Sengoku moved to intervene—only for a heavy hand to grip his shoulder.
Kong’s voice was low. “Too late.”
And it was. The crowd’s eyes were locked on Darren now. Only he could answer. Only he could close the wound he had just torn open.
---
The silence was thick enough to choke on.
Every gaze bore down on him, heavy as chains.
Anyone else might have buckled.
Darren smiled.
“So,” he said softly, “you all wanted this to be a glorious victory?”
A ripple of hesitant nods.
The smile curved into a sneer. “I see. Yes. In a way… it is a ‘grand’ victory.”
Relief flickered—only to shatter.
His voice erupted into a savage roar. “We triumphantly let filthy, vile pirates storm the heart of our headquarters!”
Gasps cut the air.
“We triumphantly turned the Holy Land of Justice into rubble—our proud fortress reduced to a wasteland!”
Each sentence was a hammer blow.
“We, the Marines—once the unshakable masters of these seas—have triumphantly become a laughingstock for the whole damn world!”
His fury crashed over the square like a typhoon. Color drained from every face.
Darren’s gaze swept the crowd—cold, merciless, daring any to meet his eyes.
“So tell me…”
“When a pirate can stroll into the heart of justice itself…”
“When all we can do is defend and endure, forced to watch him leave at his leisure…”
“When the entire world sees our weakness—sees that even Marineford can be breached…”
“This war—” his voice dropped to a deadly growl “—can you still call that a victory?”
No one moved.
Darren straightened, his voice exploding like cannon fire.
“ANSWER ME!”
A wave of killing intent burst from him, suffocating in its weight. Wind screamed across the square, lightning flickered in the sky, and the daylight itself seemed to dim.
“AN! SWER! ME!!”
To be continued...
Chapter 379: Chapter 22: Never Compromise
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Answer me!”
Darren’s roar split the air like a thunderclap, shattering the stillness of the plaza and carrying far beyond—into every Marine base across the seas through the eyes and ears of the Visual Den Den Mushi.
The sound alone could have broken lesser men.
But it was not his voice that froze them—it was the weight of his words.
His Conqueror’s Haki surged outward like a tempest, snapping flags and whipping justice cloaks into frenzied motion. That unseen wave pressed down on every chest, threatening to crush the breath from their lungs.
And still, the force of his will was heavier than the Haki itself.
Not a whisper stirred.
Could they truly call the Marineford War a victory?
The Holy Land of Justice—breached by a handful of pirates.
Tens of thousands dead.
The heart of Marine power laid to ruin.
The enemy… walking away.
No matter how they dressed it in banners and speeches… was this victory?
Or was it shame?
“This is a defeat!”
“This is a disgrace to us as Marines!”
Bloodshot veins traced across Darren’s eyes as he stared down the sea of faces. The truth, bitter and cutting, rang in every mind.
Even Kong, Sengoku, and Zephyr could not deny it.
They had no answer.
Borsalino’s lazy grin sharpened.
Sakazuki’s gaze narrowed, a slow, deliberate clenching of his gloved fist.
---
Darren drew a steady breath, his voice dropping low.
“I know… these words are hard to accept. But they are the truth. However you try to soften it, to hide it—truth remains truth.”
“Our Holy Land of Justice was nearly erased from the map. Marineford—our fortress—almost sank into the sea.”
He hesitated. When he spoke again, his tone was almost weary.
“A few days ago, the top brass spoke with me about this speech. They wanted it uplifting. Inspiring. Something to rally the troops and ease the hearts of those who’ve suffered.”
“I agreed at first. We could celebrate, rebuild, pretend the wound wasn’t so deep.”
His gaze hardened.
“But when I look at you—those who’ve buried family, friends, lovers, comrades—and I see the pain behind your forced smiles… I can’t say those words.”
“All I see is ruin.”
“I can’t deny it. I can’t forgive it. I can only feel rage.”
His voice began to rise.
“Even pirates understand revenge. Yet the Marines… endure. We patch our walls. We count our dead. And we wait for the next blow.”
“Yes, we face hardship. Yes, our coffers are strained, our wounded cry out for care, our dead for honor… But is this what Justice looks like?”
“Will we hide in our shells while pirates rule the seas?”
“Will we let them trample our flag and laugh as they leave?”
A growl laced his words now, igniting a restless heat in the crowd.
“No!!”
“We are Marines!”
“We uphold Justice!”
His fist struck the podium like a war drum.
“Against the filth that plagues these seas, I swear—” he drew a deep breath, his voice booming to the heavens— “we will never compromise!”
The square erupted.
“Never!!”
“Never compromise!!”
“Kill the pirates!!”
“War!!”
Grief became fury. Fury became fire. Marines surged to their feet, fists raised, eyes burning.
On the platform, Sengoku’s expression curdled with dread. He’s driving them to war.
Kong’s jaw was a granite line. Even Zephyr stood mute, the momentum far beyond his grasp.
Borsalino chuckled under his breath. “You’re something else, Darren.”
Sakazuki’s gaze blazed like a furnace.
Tokikake swallowed hard.
Darren raised his arm.
“Will we let pirates stain the flag of Justice?”
“Will we let them poison these free seas?”
“Never! I refuse! We will crush them!”
His voice sharpened to a command.
“Fellow Marines—believe me! Victory will be ours!”
He drew his saber in a single, ringing motion, the blade glinting toward the far-off horizon—the New World.
“The age of cowering is over! The New World is our battlefield!”
Haki roared from him in a wave, snapping the Vice Admiral’s coat like a battle standard. Across Headquarters, Marine flags thrashed in unison, a sea of white and gold.
“Upon graduating today,” Darren declared, “I will take command of G-5 in the New World!”
“Until our mission is complete—no compromise!”
His roar was raw enough to shake the stones. “Annihilate every last pirate!”
From the distance, a shrill sword cry split the sky.
BOOM!
Black light burst heavenward, a blade-shaped shadow clawing at the clouds.
Demon Blade, Enma.
It trembled in resonance with Darren’s will, spilling a killing aura that sent a shiver through even the hardiest souls.
“We will never compromise!”
The roar crashed over the plaza like a tidal wave.
“Set sail! Kill the pirates!”
Kuzan shouted himself hoarse.
Garp smashed his chair to splinters. “I’ll set sail right now and crush that bastard Roger!”
Kong, Sengoku, Zephyr could only stand frozen, the tide beyond their control.
“It’s over…” someone muttered.
Darren’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.
“Those who bear the mantle of Justice—follow me.”
His laughter rang bold and wild.
“This time, I will lead you to true victory!”
With a decisive clang, he sheathed his sword, his white coat swirling with the iron scent of war.
“Justice will prevail,” he said, “and I will await you at Justice’s foremost bastion…”
To be continued...
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Chapter 380: Chapter 23: Lighting the Fuse
Chapter Text
Marine Headquarters — Fleet Admiral’s Office.
Bang!
Steel Bone Kong’s fist crashed through the heavy wooden desk, splintering it in two.
“Young Darren! I ordered you to lift Marine morale, not incite a war!” His voice boomed through the chamber like cannon fire, shaking dust loose from the ceiling beams.
On the sofa opposite, the newly minted Vice Admiral sat calm and unhurried, cigar smoldering between his fingers as if the Fleet Admiral’s fury were nothing more than background noise.
Sengoku stood stiffly at Kong’s side, lips pressed thin.
Zephyr sat with one hand covering his face.
Tsuru’s sharp eyes studied Darren in silence.
Garp lounged across from him, happily crunching senbei.
Sakazuki was a statue in his chair, face unreadable.
Borsalino slouched in the corner, the barest curve of a smirk on his lips.
Behind Garp, Kuzan looked like a boy at the theater, eyes glittering with curiosity.
The award ceremony at the Elite Officer Training Camp had ended barely an hour ago, but Darren’s speech had already sent a wildfire through Marine Headquarters. War fever burned in the barracks; requests to join G-5’s New World deployment were already piling high on Kong’s desk.
He had managed to shake Darren’s hand on stage, smile for the cameras, and mumble a few polite words before bolting straight here to convene an emergency meeting.
And now—rage.
Kong’s glare could have split stone. “Explain yourself, Darren. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”
Darren looked genuinely—almost comically—surprised. “Reporting to Fleet Admiral Kong,” he said with mock solemnity, “I simply fulfilled my orders: to inject a strong dose of morale into the Marines through my graduation address. To strengthen the spirits and resolve of our soldiers.”
He spread his hands in mild inquiry. “Tell me, sir—did it work or not?”
Sengoku’s lips twitched.
Zephyr turned away with a groan.
Tsuru exhaled a long breath.
Borsalino’s smirk deepened.
Kong’s face darkened from crimson to purple. “Darren, you know the state of Marine Headquarters! Our coffers are bleeding dry, our forces battered. Right now our top priority is to recover and rebuild!”
“Surely even you grasp such a basic principle?”
Darren nodded earnestly. “Of course, Fleet Admiral. I fully endorse your wise assessment.”
Kong nearly swallowed his tongue. If you agree, why are you lighting a match in the powder magazine?!
He knew better than to believe Darren’s saintly tone. The brat wasn’t a pure champion of Justice—he was fanning the flames of Marine rage, bending the mood toward open war. But why?
Darren leaned back, letting the smoke curl lazily from his cigar. “That said, sir… rebuilding does not mean we hide in our corner, waiting for the next blow.”
Kong and Sengoku exchanged a sharp glance. “What are you implying?” Sengoku asked.
Even Garp paused mid-crunch.
Darren’s smile was thin. “The Marineford War was a failure—a humiliation. No one here can deny that.”
No one tried.
For all the propaganda lauding their bravery, the truth was plain: Marineford had been breached, its streets drowned in blood. Three Great Pirates had walked away. If not for Darren’s intervention, the fortress might have been wiped from the map.
And that truth sat in every stomach like lead.
Darren flicked ash into the tray and rose, his shadow stretching across the carpet.
“Our reputation is at its lowest point in history. If we huddle here under the excuse of ‘recovery,’ the world will draw one conclusion: ‘Even after having their home invaded, the Marines dare not strike back.’ We will become, in their eyes, nothing more than paper tigers.”
He let the silence weigh on them.
“If we don’t act now, we may never reclaim our former authority. If we don’t act now, the pirates will despise us. The World Government will despise us. The nations we protect will despise us. And worst of all—our own Marines will lose respect for us.”
The words cracked like gunfire in the quiet office.
For a long moment, only the ticking of the wall clock broke the stillness.
Then Sakazuki’s low growl cut through. “I agree with Darren. Only the blood of pirates can wash away this stain. There’s no other way.”
Kong’s brow twitched. His gaze shifted to Borsalino.
The tall man’s smile was languid. “I concur as well.”
Kong didn’t even bother looking at Kuzan—his open admiration for Darren was written plainly across his face.
These pups have finally bared their teeth… Kong thought grimly. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, he couldn’t yet say.
Sengoku’s voice was grave when it came. “Then tell us, Darren. What do you intend to do next?”
To be continued...
Chapter 381: Chapter 24: I’ll Be Right Back
Chapter Text
Darren’s smirk deepened at Sengoku’s words.
Though his fiery speech had stoked the embers of war within the room—cutting clean through the usual red tape—the real question remained: would Marine Headquarters approve the operation?
But judging by the way Sengoku and Kong's expressions were beginning to soften, their initial resistance was already unraveling.
Darren had been eyeing the G-5 Branch for a long time.
Tucked deep within the New World and far from the reach of Marineford, its remoteness had bred a natural lawlessness. But more than its location, it was the branch’s infamous reputation that drew Darren in.
The Marines stationed there were notorious—rogues in uniform, their behavior indistinguishable from pirates. Orders from above were casually ignored, and chain of command meant little. It was chaos... and for Darren, it felt like destiny.
If he could take G-5 for himself, he wouldn’t just gain a posting. He’d carve out a sovereign corner of the sea—a fiefdom under Marine colors, but outside Headquarters’ grasp. Even the iron rule of the World Government wouldn’t reach that far.
Far from the capital, even the emperor’s hand grows short, Darren mused. There, I can do as I please.
It was the clearest path to power.
After his promotion to Vice Admiral, he had two official options.
He could remain at Headquarters, carrying out assignments handed down from the top. Or he could take command of a Marine base somewhere along the Grand Line.
But either way, he’d be shackled—watched, regulated, controlled.
That wasn't the life he had in mind.
Then I’ll volunteer for G-5 myself.
But taking G-5 was just the first step.
Next came his clique.
In the lawless depths of the New World—where Yonko influence loomed and pirate alliances clashed—holding ground would take more than rank. Darren needed loyal allies. Fighters. People who’d walk into hell at his side without question.
That was the real reason he needed this war.
“To restore the Marine’s reputation and authority worldwide, we must act swiftly.”
His voice dropped, turning cold. Calculated. Deadly.
“We’ll wash away this humiliation with blood.”
A heavy silence settled.
Kong’s brow furrowed. Sengoku’s lips pressed into a tight line.
“Darren,” Sengoku warned, “don’t forget the state of Headquarters. Our funds are strained, manpower is low, and supplies are stretched thin. We can't afford the costs of a war—not now.”
Darren waved the concern aside with an air of nonchalance.
“Those worries are... unnecessary.”
Unnecessary?
The room froze. Kong’s eyes narrowed. Sengoku stared, baffled. Even Garp looked up from his tea.
Waging war wasn’t something done lightly. Ships, men, munitions, logistics—it required a colossal investment. They weren’t pirates, after all. Marines couldn’t just plunder their way through problems.
How the hell do you go to war without money, troops, or weapons?
But Darren wasn’t finished.
“Not for this operation.”
He stubbed out his cigar with a quiet hiss, walked to the coat rack, and flung his Vice Admiral’s snow-white coat over his shoulders in one smooth motion.
Then he turned to Borsalino, who was busy inspecting his fingernails.
“Vice Admiral Borsalino,” he asked, “is Enma ready?”
Borsalino gave a lazy smile. “She’s stabilized—more or less. But I’d still advise against being reckless.”
Darren grinned. “Relax.”
The coat draped across his broad shoulders fluttered behind him as he stepped toward the exit. His voice rang out, deep and commanding.
“The key to this operation is speed, strength, and overwhelming force.”
With every step, his presence grew heavier—like thunder building before a storm.
He reached the door.
Sunlight spilled into the room. Wind from the distant sea rushed in, lifting his new cloak high into the air. It billowed behind him like a banner.
Darren looked back.
“Wait here,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
No sooner had he spoken than a beam of eerie black light erupted from the horizon—like a blade cutting through space itself—and stopped just before him.
He stepped effortlessly onto the obsidian edge of the Demon Blade. A magnetic surge hummed beneath his feet. And then—he was gone.
Launched skyward in an instant, a blur of dark light streaking toward the clouds.
Inside the office, stunned silence hung heavy in the air.
The gathered officers exchanged bewildered glances.
“Young Darren... what’s he trying to pull now?” Garp muttered, flabbergasted.
Sakazuki’s scowl deepened, then eased—as if he’d just solved a puzzle he hadn’t realized he was working on.
Kong and Sengoku met each other’s gaze. And in that instant, a wordless understanding passed between them. Their eyes widened. Shock—and a touch of disbelief—lit their faces.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Borsalino said airily, still smiling. “After the graduation ceremony, Vice Admiral Darren asked me for a little something.”
“What kind of something?” Zephyr asked suspiciously.
Borsalino chuckled and lifted an eyebrow. “A permanent Log Pose. One that points to one of the subsidiary islands... in Big Mom’s Totto Land.”
The room erupted.
Gasps. Shouts. Disbelief.
Darren was heading for Totto Land?!
Alone?!
Was he insane?!
A suicide mission if there ever was one—except...
Then they remembered. Darren’s terrifying speed. His bizarre Devil Fruit ability. His unfathomable mobility.
With that power, unless Big Mom herself showed up, he could escape from anywhere in the blink of an eye.
No—
They remembered what he’d done during the Marineford War. His strength. His tactics. His ability to command.
Even if Big Mom came herself... she might not be able to stop him.
Which meant Darren—this Marine Vice Admiral—could now soar through the seas like a force of nature, unbound and untouchable.
Like the second coming of the Golden Lion.
The realization struck all at once, and a chill of awe swept through the room.
A flying admiral, blitzing across the Grand Line. A nightmare to pirates. A symbol of Marine wrath.
Kuzan’s eyes sparkled.
“This is insane,” he breathed. “He’s really going after Totto Land alone... that’s so cool!”
Then he buried his face in his hands. “Damn it! My Devil Fruit’s completely useless now!”
Kong ignored Kuzan’s grumbling, his attention locked on Borsalino.
He stepped forward, voice low and intense. “What else did Darren ask you for?”
The tension sharpened.
Everyone turned to Borsalino, eyes narrowing in anticipation.
With maddening calm, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small device.
“This.”
A smirk tugged at his lips.
“He said, ‘If there’s going to be a victory... the whole world ought to see it happen.’”
Time stopped.
Every face turned toward the object in his hand—expressions frozen.
Then—
“Bwahahaha! You sly little bastard!” Garp roared, slapping his thigh so hard it echoed through the room.
It was a Visual Den Den Mushi.
Darren’s plan was crystal clear now.
He wasn’t just launching a solo assault.
He was going to storm Totto Land—live, for the whole world to see.
To be continued...
Chapter 382: Chapter 25: Pay Attention
Chapter Text
The sea blurred beneath him. Islands, towns, and clouds streaked past like smears on a painted canvas, vanishing behind him at speeds few could fathom.
The wind screamed around Darren—sharp as a thousand blades—lashing at his skin, tugging violently at the Vice Admiral’s coat draped across his shoulders. It fluttered wildly in his wake, a white banner against the endless blue.
His mastery of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit had reached extraordinary levels. Riding a magnetic field that bent the laws of physics, Darren rocketed through the sky at supersonic velocity. The crushing pressure of the sound barrier barely scratched his steel-forged physique.
As Totto Land grew nearer, his mind remained sharp, focused.
The speech he’d delivered at the Marine graduation ceremony had been only the beginning.
Step one: ignite the flames. Stoke the Marines’ hatred for pirates—so deeply that Headquarters would have no choice but to consider war.
Step two: convince the upper brass. With the vocal support of Sakazuki and Borsalino—and the tantalizing promise of a zero-cost offensive—it hadn’t taken much to sway Sengoku and Kong.
But step three... that was the key.
To build his clique, unite the Marines behind his banner, and secure command of G-5, Darren needed more than words.
He needed a victory.
Not just any win—an overwhelming, public, undeniable triumph.
Because no matter how impassioned a speech, no matter how righteous the cause, the Marines wouldn’t truly follow unless he proved himself in the field. They needed more than slogans. They needed to believe.
And so, Darren had to choose a target—one loud enough to send a message, one powerful enough to validate his rise.
Big Mom had not been his first choice.
Kaido’s base was already in ruins—smashed to dust by the Marine assault. Though rumors swirled about his interest in Wano Country, his next move remained unclear. Darren couldn’t risk attacking a ghost.
Wano itself was too delicate. Politically charged. One wrong move there could ignite international turmoil.
As for the Golden Lion, his lack of a stable base made him too elusive. Even if he rebuilt his fleet, he’d vanish the moment resources ran dry. No ground to claim. No message to send.
That left Charlotte Linlin.
The madwoman of Totto Land.
Darren exhaled through his nose, a bitter smile playing at his lips.
“If there was any other way…”
Of the three pirate legends who’d stormed Marineford, she was the one he’d least wanted to face. He would’ve taken a bare-knuckle match with Kaido over this insanity any day.
Still, he had no choice.
He closed his eyes and turned inward.
Perception Talent—Activate.
Lines of data unfolded before his mind like an ancient scroll.
Physique: 88.212 (Steel Body)
Strength: 77.513
Speed: 76.711
Devil Fruit Development: 83.211 (Island-Covering)
Armament Haki: 58.035
Observation Haki: 47.117
Conqueror’s Haki: 59.301
His performance at Marineford had skyrocketed his stats. His body—long plateaued—had finally edged past another threshold. Strength and speed had climbed. His haki had surged. Even Observation Haki, once his weakest area, had seen astonishing growth—nearly ten full points.
Credit, strangely enough, belonged in part to Rayleigh.
The old man had never been a good teacher, but his words rang true: "Only by clashing with the strong does true strength emerge."
Darren understood this intimately.
At his level, training alone was no longer enough. Physique, strength, speed—these stats didn’t budge with daily effort anymore. Two points could take a year. Improvement now came only through life-and-death battles.
He opened his eyes.
“Almost there…”
His gaze burned with anticipation.
He’d seen it happen—Sakazuki and Borsalino breaking through their barriers during the Marineford War. Under Golden Lion’s pressure, they’d ascended into the realm of true Admirals.
Now, Darren stood on the edge of that same frontier.
He studied his stats again.
If he could push both Strength and Speed above 80, he suspected it would trigger another awakening. Something on the scale of Island-Covering or Steel Body. A transformation that would cement his place in the top tier.
If he pushed Armament and Observation Haki past 60, he’d no longer be knocking at the door—he’d be inside the Admiral-level threshold.
That was the line.
The chasm between Silver-Tier and Gold-Tier fighters.
Below that line, going toe-to-toe with legends like Roger, Whitebeard, or Golden Lion was suicide.
Unless, of course, you were a monster like Darren.
Or like the other two monsters—Sakazuki and Borsalino.
He chuckled to himself, recalling a prime example of what happened when Silver-Tier tried to punch above its weight.
Luffy.
At Wano, the Pirate King had roared into battle with Fourth Gear blazing, full of righteous fury—shouting about friendship, bonds, dreams...
And Kaido flattened him with a single swing.
Later, after weeks of savage training with the Beasts Pirates, Luffy clawed his way into the Gold-Tier. Ryuo mastery. Conqueror’s Haki coating. Awakening. Sun God.
But the gap had been real. It always was.
Admiral-level was the line that divided pretenders from predators.
And even within that level, power varied wildly.
Some Admirals collapsed under the pressure of a distant burst of Conqueror’s Haki.
Others stared down Whitebeard himself—trading blows, drawing blood, punching holes through legends.
Darren adjusted his breath, centering his energy.
The horizon shifted.
After nearly three hours in flight, the silhouette of an island slowly emerged in the distance—dark and distinct against the sea.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a Den Den Mushi.
Not just any Den Den Mushi—this one had been customized by the Science Division. Windproof goggles. Adjustable strap. Its soft, sluglike face stared up at Darren with a look of grim determination.
He smirked.
“You’re taking this more seriously than half my officers.”
The creature blinked. Darren chuckled and strapped it to his forehead.
A camera on his head. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Who could resist a man with a front-row seat to chaos?
He tapped the button.
The feed went live.
The world was watching.
And his voice rang out, calm, electric, unmistakable:
“Watch carefully.”
To be continued...
Chapter 383: Chapter 26: Three Minutes
Chapter Text
At the same time...
Marine Headquarters — Fleet Admiral’s Office
“Damn it, Sengoku, stop pacing already! You’re making my head spin,” Kong growled, cigar clenched between his teeth as he watched Sengoku fidget for the hundredth time, hands locked behind his back, steps quick and erratic.
The desk in front of Kong was new—just delivered to replace the one shattered in an earlier outburst. He sat behind it now, brow furrowed, the weight of command pressing down on him harder than ever.
Sengoku chuckled, but the sound rang hollow. His gaze kept flicking toward Borsalino.
“How much longer?” he asked. “Why haven’t we heard anything from Darren yet?”
Borsalino didn’t even look up. He was busy trimming his fingernails, expression unreadable. “Even with Darren’s... impressive speed, it’d still take him nearly three hours to reach the island using the Eternal Pose from Marineford.”
“I see…” Sengoku murmured. Cold sweat dampened his palms.
No one could fault his anxiety. Darren’s plan was madness—bold to the point of lunacy. And with every passing minute, the tension inside Marine Headquarters twisted tighter.
Zephyr sat in grim silence, arms folded across his chest. Tsuru’s fingers shuffled through papers she wasn’t reading. The ashtray at Kong’s elbow overflowed with cigar stubs.
Then—
Click.
The Visual Den Den Mushi perched on the table stirred to life, its soft glow casting ripples of light onto the large screen mounted on the wall.
A grainy image slowly came into focus:
The sky—wide and endless. Clouds curled like smoke over the sea. And far in the distance, an island flew a pink Jolly Roger, flapping gently in the wind.
“Watch closely…”
A familiar voice echoed across the room, tinged with humor and steel.
He’s there!
Every head snapped toward the screen.
That flag—that absurd pink skull and crossbones—was unmistakable.
Big Mom’s crew.
Kong took a long drag of his cigar. “Let’s see what this lunatic does now…”
Zephyr’s knuckles tightened. “If it’s him, he won’t lose.”
Tsuru gave a silent nod.
Sakazuki said nothing. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed to the screen like a hawk watching prey.
“It’s finally happening! Bwahahaha!” Garp tore into a fresh bag of senbei and crossed his legs like a kid at the theater, practically vibrating with excitement.
Kuzan leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. “This is crazy… Darren actually made it into Totto Land!”
Even Sengoku—despite himself—felt his chest swell with something perilously close to hope.
Still, he had to ask. “Borsalino, are you absolutely sure the signal will hold?”
“Crystal clear,” Borsalino replied, unfazed. “Unless something unexpected happens, every Marine Branch and base across the sea is already connected.”
He gave a slow grin. “I also looped in the major newspapers. Most of the World Government’s Member Nations, too. As long as there’s Den Den Mushi coverage, they’re watching this live... or as Darren called it—his ‘blitzkrieg.’”
Silence swept the room. No one dared breathe too loudly.
Everything—honor, glory, reputation—balanced on the edge of this broadcast.
Would Darren deliver? Could the Marines reclaim their pride? Or was this merely the first spark in a firestorm of humiliation?
Meanwhile, on the Sabaody Archipelago...
“What the hell is that?!”
“Look! A giant screen!”
“It’s from a Visual Den Den Mushi—live footage!”
“Wait... that island—don’t tell me—that’s Totto Land?!”
Crowds gathered in the plazas. Shouts and whispers tangled in the air like static. Everyone's eyes were glued to the screens. Gasps spread like wildfire.
Then, a deep voice rang out, confident and clear:
“I am Rogers Darren, newly appointed Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters.”
“You might remember my name from the recent ceremony. If not, no matter. All I ask is that you stay calm... and enjoy the show.”
A hand lifted on the screen, pointing toward the horizon.
“See that island?”
“That’s Oven-Baked Snack Island—one of the territories under Big Mom’s flag.”
“In the next three minutes…”
He paused. Smiled.
“…I will completely annihilate every pirate on that island.”
The world stopped.
Around the globe—on islands, in kingdoms, across towns and ports—people stared at the screens, stunned into silence. Faces turned pale. Jaws dropped.
A single Vice Admiral, storming into the Yonko’s territory... and declaring live that he would wipe it clean?
They couldn’t believe what they were hearing.
Across the Grand Line, Darren’s speech from earlier that day still lingered in the minds of the people—stirring, bold, defiant.
But most had laughed it off.
The Marines didn’t have the strength to invade the New World. If they did, they’d have done it already. Who waited until Marineford was nearly razed to declare war?
But now... this was reality.
And reality was far more terrifying than rhetoric.
He was actually doing it.
North Blue — Rubeck Island
Within the Donquixote Family’s stronghold, the grand hall was deathly silent.
A loud crash shattered it.
“Doffy! Something awful’s happened!”
Trebol burst through the door, snot streaming, slipping and landing flat on his face with a loud splat.
He scrambled up, horror painted across his features. “That Darren—the Godfather—he’s going after Totto Land! Now!”
The glowing screen above them flickered. The broadcast played on, casting eerie light across the stunned faces of the Donquixote Family.
Doflamingo sat hunched forward, elbows on knees. His sunglasses hid most of his expression, but not the bloodshot strain in his eyes. In one hand, his wine glass cracked from the pressure of his grip, crimson wine trickling down his fingers like blood.
North Blue — 321st Marine Branch
In the base commander’s office, Vice Admiral Momonga stood before the screen, face stone still. Blue sparks flickered between his fingers.
He reached for a Den Den Mushi, dialed, and spoke coldly.
“All personnel, listen up. The North Blue Fleet is now on full—”
He stopped.
Took a breath. Then exhaled slowly.
“…Stand by.”
He placed the receiver down.
The flickering image on screen held his gaze.
He chuckled once, quietly. “What am I getting so worked up about?”
Momonga lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. Smoke curled upward.
“Carrying a grudge like this... yeah. That’s just like you, Darren.”
To be continued...
Chapter 384: Chapter 27: Please Me
Chapter Text
One minute before the world began to watch...
Oven-Baked Snack Island – Swollen Town, Big Mom Pirates' Stronghold
The scent of roasted meat hung thick in the air.
Dozens of pirates gathered under the heavy shadows of a timbered hall, feasting around a long, grease-slicked table. Grilled bread and skewers piled high, beer flowed freely, and laughter rolled like thunder across the room.
Discarded newspapers—oily, crumpled—lay scattered beneath their feet. On the front page: headlines from days ago screaming of the Marineford assault.
Golden Lion, Big Mom, and Kaido—three titans crashing down on Marine Headquarters.
“Hahaha! The Marines got their teeth kicked in!”
“Mom’s unstoppable! Not even ten Admirals could stop her!”
“And that so-called Vice Admiral Darren? Hah! He actually said he’d invade the New World?”
“What a joke!”
“If he dares step into Totto Land, he’s dead. End of story.”
“Tch. That speech was all hot air—typical Marine bravado. They never back it up.”
“This is pirate territory. Marines don’t last long out here.”
Roars of laughter followed, laced with contempt and wine.
No one around the table took Darren seriously. His speech might’ve riled up a few Marines, but to the pirates of Totto Land, it was nothing more than a bedtime story.
“Hey, Brother Oven,” a younger Charlotte asked, leaning forward. “Is it true? They say Mom wants to marry that Darren guy.”
Charlotte Oven’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know,” he said gruffly. “Heard she argued with Katakuri about it.”
He was massive—towering, broad-shouldered, bare-chested beneath an orange cloak. Orange hair swept into three stiff fan-like spikes above his head, and a thick beard ringed his chin. The air around him shimmered faintly with heat.
But when Darren’s name came up, a cold hatred ignited behind his eyes.
He hadn’t forgotten. Charlotte Perospero and Daifuku—both crushed by that same Marine.
“If he ever shows his face in the New World…” Oven’s voice dropped to a growl, fists clenching until they began to glow with searing orange heat, “I’ll roast his skull clean off his spine.”
The pirates roared again, smashing mugs and slamming fists on the table.
A Marine invading them? It was the biggest joke they’d heard all week.
Then—
“Watch closely…”
The voice echoed suddenly from the plaza, smooth and unhurried.
All conversation ceased.
The pirates turned.
A giant screen had lit up, projecting the feed from a Visual Den Den Mushi. Static cleared to reveal an aerial view—clouds swirling below, and in the distance, a familiar flag flapping in the wind.
“The hell?”
“Who hacked the signal?”
“Wait... that’s—”
“That’s our flag!”
Every pirate froze. The blood drained from their faces.
Their laughter died.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Darren’s voice continued—casual, almost amused.
“See that island?”
“That’s Oven-Baked Snack Island. A key territory of the Big Mom Pirates.”
“In the next three minutes…”
He paused. The silence hung, heavy.
“…I will completely annihilate every pirate on that island.”
The words hit like a cannon blast.
Swollen Town erupted into chaos.
Thousands of pirates poured into the streets, eyes scanning the sky, weapons drawn. Shouts and orders overlapped in a frenzied storm.
He’s here?!
Where is he?!
Judging from the angle of the broadcast, he had to be hiding in the clouds.
“Looking for me?”
The voice didn’t come from the screen this time.
It came from behind them.
Time stopped.
Every muscle tensed. Every hair stood on end.
A shiver ran through the gathered pirates as they turned—slowly, fearfully.
There he stood.
Draped in white, his coat fluttering gently in the breeze. Darren strolled toward the campfire as though he were visiting an old friend.
Without a word, he picked up an unopened beer bottle, popped the cap with a flick of his thumb, and took a long pull, letting the bitter taste settle.
After a moment, he plucked the Visual Den Den Mushi from his forehead and set it atop a nearby barrel, adjusting the angle with a surgeon’s care.
“There,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Much better. The first-person view can get a bit... bumpy.”
Then he set the bottle down, pulled out a cigar, and lit it.
The flickering flame cast sharp shadows across his face.
A reckless smile crept across his lips as he faced the stunned crowd.
“So, you all heard that too.”
Smoke curled lazily from his mouth as he scanned their expressions—confusion, rage, disbelief.
“You have three minutes,” he said. “Please me.”
The words weren’t loud, but they cracked through the air like a lightning bolt.
“YOU BASTARD!”
“HOW DARE YOU—”
“GET HIM!”
Fury exploded.
A thousand weapons rose at once. Guns flared. Cannons roared. Swords gleamed in the light as the Big Mom Pirates launched a full-scale assault on the lone Marine.
Ratatatat! Boom! Boom!
A hurricane of bullets and fire enveloped him. Smoke and shrapnel filled the plaza.
Then—
Clang. Clang. Boom...
Bullets ricocheted off his skin like pebbles against steel. Explosions burst against his chest, leaving nothing but ash.
The smoke cleared.
Darren hadn’t moved an inch.
Not. A. Scratch.
Gasps rippled through the town. Pirates stared in horror.
A dozen fighters charged him next—elite enforcers of the Charlotte Family. They circled him with blades, clubs, and steel claws, striking in unison.
The sound was deafening.
But then—
Crack!
A pulse tore through the air. Sparks flared as every weapon touching him shattered.
The Den Den Mushi captured it all—their shocked faces, their broken weapons falling in slow motion.
Darren stood unmoved, still smoking his cigar.
This Marine…
His body’s like Mama’s...
“Is that it?” he asked, voice low, almost disappointed.
“Is that really the best you’ve got?”
A soft hum echoed from his palm.
Blue arcs of electricity crackled between his fingers.
Then—
Thwip!
The shattered weapon fragments lifted from the ground and shot forward like bullets—each one finding a throat, a heart, a vital point.
Tssht!
Blood sprayed like a fountain.
Bodies flew backward and collapsed.
The plaza fell silent.
Darren stood alone.
Calm. Untouched. Smiling.
To be continued...
Chapter 385: Chapter 28: You Dare Call Yourself a Monster?
Chapter Text
Drip... drip... drip...
Blood fell in slow, rhythmic drops from the shards of metal still hanging in the air—each droplet a glimmering bead of crimson, painting the air like a war god’s curtain.
The pirates stared, pale-faced, their throats constricting as they swallowed in unison.
“M... monster…”
“Our attacks didn’t even scratch him…”
“His body... it’s like Big Mom’s...”
Before they could process what they’d seen, another wave of electric-blue arcs danced across Darren’s frame. The shattered blades hanging mid-air suddenly twitched—then shot forward in a violent storm of steel.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
They sliced through the pirates like whispers through paper.
Dozens dropped where they stood—throats slashed, eyes pierced, hearts punctured. Some didn’t even realize they were dying until they collapsed into the growing pool of blood at their feet.
Then—
Boom!
Darren’s eyes lifted. His hair streamed upward as his muscles tensed.
With an earth-shattering roar, he kicked off the ground, launching forward like a living cannonball. The force of his movement cracked the air behind him.
He struck the pirate ranks like a typhoon, his hands sheathed in obsidian Haki shaped into clawed talons.
The Dragon Claw Fist—brutal, elegant, merciless.
He tore through the crowd, every slash a blur, every impact a small-scale disaster. Blood fountained around him, and limbs fell like discarded debris. His momentum was unstoppable. Wherever he passed, the ground broke, the air warped, and life ceased.
“Damn it—charge!”
“He’s just one man!”
“We’ll drown him in bodies if we have to!”
“Don’t back down!”
At first, Big Mom’s forces had faltered, gripped by shock and disbelief. But they were no greenhorns—these were pirates of the New World, veterans of countless bloodbaths. Their fear gave way to fury, and fury gave way to tactics.
They surrounded him with renewed aggression.
Simultaneously, Den Den Mushi lines crackled to life. Calls for backup echoed across the island. From every stronghold and checkpoint, reinforcements surged forth.
Swollen Town descended into chaos.
Pirates poured through the alleys like floodwaters. Civilians screamed and fled in terror. Buildings crumbled beneath the weight of battle. Explosions lit the skyline.
And at the eye of the storm stood one man.
Through the Visual Den Den Mushi broadcast, the world watched.
Watched as a Marine Vice Admiral became a beast.
He leveled buildings with his fists. He split the earth with his steps. His strikes left gaping fissures and shattered bodies. Smoke and blood choked the skies.
“Not enough!” Darren snarled, driving a kick into a pirate’s chest and launching him across town. The man crashed through building after building, leaving a trail of ruin in his wake.
“Not nearly enough!”
Three enormous battleaxes came down on him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The weapons shattered on impact.
Darren didn’t flinch.
The pirates recoiled, stunned, their hands torn open from the recoil.
He grinned, teeth flashing like a wolf’s.
In one brutal motion, Darren grabbed two of them by the skull and slammed their heads together with bone-crunching force.
Crack!
Their craniums exploded like overripe fruit. Blood sprayed across the stones.
“An opening!”
A pirate burst from the crowd—spiky-haired, spear in hand, surrounded by crackling black Haki. He lunged for Darren’s exposed nape, eyes wild with bloodlust.
Clang!
The spear struck.
But Darren’s neck had already hardened with Armament Haki—so dense and refined, the weapon bounced off with a spray of sparks.
“Not bad,” Darren muttered. “But your Haki’s sloppy.”
He snatched the spear from the pirate’s grip.
His free hand closed around the man’s face.
And then—slam.
Boom!
He drove him into the ground so hard that a crater burst outward, swallowing the plaza.
Buildings collapsed into the sinkhole. Pirates tumbled in screaming.
Darren rose from the dust, spinning the spear once, then hurling it like a javelin.
It tore through the air with a banshee’s wail, trailed by shockwaves of white energy.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
It skewered a dozen charging pirates in a single strike, pinning them to the shattered ruins of a distant tower.
He was no longer fighting. He was purging.
With every step, every movement, he left a trail of devastation.
He had transcended technique. This was raw power, refined by war, sharpened by rage.
A force of nature.
Still they came.
Still the pirates surged in from every direction, like ants desperate to smother a flame.
Through the Visual Den Den Mushi, the world looked on—held its breath—as Darren’s grin twisted wider with each kill.
He hadn’t felt this alive in years.
Too long, he’d been fighting uphill—crushed, outnumbered, outmatched.
Now, at last, he was the one trampling others beneath his feet.
“Who the hell do you think you are?! This is Totto Land!”
The roar split the sky.
A wave of searing heat surged toward Darren, and from within the smoke emerged a towering figure wreathed in flames.
Charlotte Oven.
Crimson aura boiling from his skin, the air around him distorted with sheer heat.
“Lord Oven!”
“He’s here!”
“We’re saved!”
“That man’s a monster!”
The tide seemed to turn as Oven stepped forward—heat radiating from every pore.
“Heatwave Fist!!”
His right hand blazed with molten fury. Flames licked his skin. Even his eyes burned like twin furnaces.
He hurled the fist forward with a snarl.
“If Mom wants you alive, I don’t care—you're not walking out of here!”
Darren didn’t flinch.
He shifted into stance—Dragon Claw Fist—and lashed out with a pitch-black, three-fingered claw.
BOOM!!
Their fists collided.
The ground exploded beneath them. A ring of shattered earth blasted outward. The air cracked with the force of their clash.
Oven grinned. “You dared meet my heat head-on?! You’re insane!”
“I ate the Heat-Heat Fruit, brat! I can boil the ocean!”
Then he stopped.
His face twisted.
Something was wrong.
Why... isn’t he burning?
Darren’s arm didn’t even sizzle.
No blisters. No smoke. Nothing.
Darren looked down at him.
“Sorry,” he said with a cruel smile. “You’re not magma.”
“And you call yourself a monster?”
With a savage twist—
CRACK!
Charlotte Oven’s arm bent in directions nature never intended. Bone, flesh, and sinew tore in a spray of blood.
“AaaAAAAHHHHH!!”
He screamed in agony as his entire limb twisted like wet rope, the heat extinguished in an instant.
Fear overtook his rage.
This strength...
He was one of Big Mom’s top fighters—able to halt ships with a single hand.
And yet...
He didn’t know that Darren’s “training” included dragging warships through the sea with chains tied to his back.
Not pirate boats. Not rafts.
Full-scale Marine vessels.
Oven's eyes locked on Darren's grin.
And in that moment, he understood—
He wasn't facing a Vice Admiral.
He was facing something far worse.
To be continued...
Chapter 386: Chapter 29: The Enemy Disappears
Chapter Text
Monsters are not defined by a single strength.
They are forged from overwhelming dominance in every realm of battle—physique, speed, strength, endurance, Devil Fruit mastery, Haki, instinct, and experience. Any one of these could make a warrior formidable. But to a true monster, such traits are merely baseline requirements.
Darren was that kind of monster.
Even among the freaks who roamed the Grand Line, few could match his raw physical power. His strength didn’t come from lineage or titles. It came from pain—years of blood-soaked battles, brutal training, and surviving hell when most would have crumbled.
Charlotte Oven might have been hailed as a “monster” within the Big Mom Pirates, but standing before Darren, he was a child trying to wrestle a storm.
The crack of rupturing muscle and snapping bone echoed across the battlefield.
Oven’s arm, twisted grotesquely in Darren’s vice grip, dangled like a broken branch.
Across the world, countless viewers watching through Visual Den Den Mushi winced in unison, clutching their arms involuntarily. The pain was almost contagious.
“D-Damn you... This is Totto Land!” Oven choked out, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “I won’t... lose to you here...!”
Darren looked down at him with a scoff, his smile cold and cruel. “Totto Land?” His fingers tightened around Oven’s arm. “One day, the flag of justice will fly here too.”
Rip.
A grotesque splash of crimson followed.
Oven’s scream ripped through the air as Darren tore his arm clean off.
Blood erupted like a geyser, arcing into the sky as the mangled limb dropped to the ground with a sickening wet thud.
The pirate staggered back, reeling, gasping for air—but Darren didn’t give him the luxury of pain.
He was already moving.
A flash of motion—knee raised, Armament Haki surging—and crack!
The blow struck Oven’s gut like a cannonball. The air exploded from his lungs as his ribs shattered and black veins of Haki spread across his back, ripping his clothes to shreds.
He bent in half, mouth open in a soundless gasp, blood and foam bubbling up his throat. His eyes bulged, unfocused and glassy.
“Lord Oven!”
“Get him!”
“Kill that Marine bastard!”
The pirates roared as they finally snapped out of their daze. Dozens charged at once, weapons gleaming, their faces twisted with rage.
They struck from every direction—swords, axes, bullets, cannonballs—all crashing into Darren like a storm.
But nothing pierced him.
Blades sparked and shattered. Haki-infused attacks rebounded with metallic clangs. He didn’t flinch.
Darren ignored them all.
He grabbed Oven by his ridiculous triple-styled hair and casually checked his watch.
“Hm. Fifteen seconds left.”
His eyes gleamed.
“Perfect. Civilians should be nearly clear by now... and the rats have all gathered.”
And then the air shifted.
Boom.
A pulse of invisible force erupted from Darren’s body—like a tidal wave, crashing outward in every direction.
Conqueror’s Haki.
The streets shook. Roof tiles exploded off buildings. Loose stones and debris went airborne. The wind howled through the town like a banshee’s scream.
Color seemed to vanish from the world.
Dozens of pirates dropped like puppets with cut strings, unconscious before they even hit the ground. The rest stumbled, dazed, their eyes rolling back, their bodies wracked by invisible pressure.
And at the center of it all stood Darren.
Unmoving. Absolute.
“Let’s finish this.”
He stood atop a field of blood and corpses, bathed in the eerie glow of fires and smoke. One hand gripped Oven by the throat, hoisting him high.
Behind him, the word “Justice” was written in blood across the back of his white coat, fluttering like a flag in hell.
Oven dangled like a ragdoll.
“Y-you...” he gasped, barely conscious. “What... do you want...?”
He was beyond broken. His body ruined, blood pouring from every hole, eyes barely able to focus.
Darren tilted his head. “Didn’t I say?”
“I’m here to erase every last pirate on this island.”
Oven stiffened. Somewhere in the haze of agony and fading light, realization sparked.
That blade... that demonic weapon...
His eyes widened. He turned his head slowly, his gaze lifting toward the sky.
And then he understood.
Why this man had come down personally.
Why he fought in the streets, exposing himself to their full force.
It had never been about the battle.
Darren was baiting them.
Drawing every pirate on Snack Island into one place.
And now—
Now they were all here.
The “three minutes”... it had never referred to the time it would take to defeat them.
It was the grace period Darren had given the civilians to escape.
“No...” Oven breathed, dread filling every inch of his broken body. “No... I won’t let this happen...!”
His mind flashed with images—his siblings. The other Charlotte children stationed across Snack Island. Dozens, maybe hundreds.
His body burned.
With one final roar, he erupted in a blaze of crimson heat. His entire form ignited like a living furnace.
He threw his arms wide—blood pumping, fire raging—a suicide strike born of desperation.
“Heat Sea Myriad Waves: Furnace!!”
A blinding inferno surged toward Darren.
Oven had turned himself into a bomb, a final act of defiance, ready to drag Darren into death with him.
But—
Darren’s voice was calm. Cold. Final.
“Enma... obliterate it.”
He pressed two fingers to his ear.
“Momo—Thirty-Fold Amplification—Islandfall.”
The sky split.
A jet-black beam of light tore through the clouds like a divine judgment, howling toward the earth.
The world held its breath.
And then—
BOOM!!!
White light devoured the Den Den Mushi screens.
For a moment, the world went blind.
A crater the size of a city bloomed across Snack Island, and Swollen Town ceased to exist.
From a bird’s-eye view, the town was simply gone. Vaporized. Reduced to rubble and ash.
No screams.
No survivors.
Only silence.
Then—
The Visual Den Den Mushi flickered back to life.
Smoke. Flames. Rubble.
The camera caught the edge of a broken street—once part of Swollen Town—now a hellscape of craters and fire.
And through the swirling smoke, a figure emerged.
Slowly. Calmly.
A Marine Vice Admiral.
Darren walked through the wreckage like a god among ruins, Haki withdrawing from his body like a tide receding. His white justice coat was unblemished, its crimson trim glowing faintly in the firelight.
Behind him, another explosion rocked the earth. The camera trembled.
He reached into his coat.
Lit a cigar.
Took a long, slow drag.
Then lifted a military Den Den Mushi to his ear.
A voice crackled through. “This is Sengoku.”
Darren exhaled smoke, the embers in his cigar glowing in the darkness.
“Admiral Sengoku,” he said, eyes fixed on the horizon. “This is Vice Admiral Rogers Darren. Mission complete.”
He looked directly into the Visual Den Den Mushi, a sharp, arrogant grin playing at his lips.
“Enemy eliminated.”
The world stopped.
On islands. In kingdoms. On warships and back-alley screens. Every Den Den Mushi feed went still.
Every heart paused.
Because on this day—
The enemy disappeared.
To be continued...
Chapter 387: Chapter 30: The Sword of Damocles
Chapter Text
The image froze.
Vice Admiral Darren’s arrogant grin lingered on every screen, a defiant slash of confidence etched across his face.
And in that instant, the world went silent.
A silence deeper than fear.
---
New World – Wano Country
Kuri Region, Military Factory District
Inside a traditional conference hall, the upper echelons of the Beast Pirates sat frozen in place.
The screen before them was still locked on Darren’s smirk. The silence in the room was absolute.
Queen’s cigar had burned to the nub, singeing his lower lip—but he didn’t notice. His jaw hung open, trembling.
“Th-th-this…” he stammered, voice cracked and dry.
Next to him, King’s face was grim, the blue flames on his wings flickering dimly. He said nothing.
Even Kaido—who minutes earlier had been slumped over, dead drunk—now sat ramrod straight, his bloodshot eyes locked on the screen.
He was completely sober.
The air in the room had turned heavy, suffocating.
“B-Boss Kaido…” Queen said, swallowing hard. “That brat Darren... he doesn’t know we’re in Wano, right?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, dread spread like a virus.
The pirates in the hall collectively paled. Cold sweat dripped down their backs. Every scalp prickled with a primal, gut-churning sense of terror.
Because deep down, they all knew—
If Darren did know... they were screwed.
He didn’t need an army.
He didn’t need a fleet.
With that flight speed, that absurd Demon Blade, and the sheer force he had just demonstrated on Snack Island...
He could end them with a single strike from the sky.
No warning. No buildup.
Just black light descending from the heavens, and their entire industrial base—years of labor—reduced to ash in seconds.
Just like what had happened in Totto Land.
Even if Kaido, King, and Queen survived such a blow, who else would? The rank-and-file Beast Pirates? The workers? The facilities?
No one.
And worst of all... there was no way to stop him.
The thought of enjoying a hotpot or relaxing after a raid—only for a towering black blade to come crashing down without warning—shattered any illusion of safety.
Paranoia crept in.
Several pirates glanced nervously upward, as if expecting death to fall through the ceiling at any moment.
Kaido’s brow furrowed.
“That brat...” he muttered. “He probably doesn’t know.”
Queen’s lip twitched.
“Probably?””
That didn’t sound reassuring.
Queen had no illusions. If Darren ever decided to pay back personal grievances, he’d be at the top of the list. He was proud of his “research methods,” but they hadn’t earned him any forgiveness.
King said nothing, but his silence was heavy.
Then—
BOOM!
Kaido erupted.
He slammed his fist into the tatami floor, shattering the entire foundation. Tiles cracked, furniture split, the walls trembled.
His Conqueror’s Haki surged like a tidal wave, flooding the hall.
Pirates collapsed where they stood, many foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling back as they passed out.
“DAMN THAT BASTARD SHIKI!!”
Kaido’s roar shook the mountains.
“That bastard SET ME UP!”
He was livid.
The Marineford raid had been glorious—but now, the price was becoming clear.
Shiki, the one who had slaughtered the most Marines, had vanished, leaving Kaido and Big Mom to bear the brunt of Darren’s wrath.
And Darren’s revenge didn’t come in speeches or speeches—it came from the sky, silent and deadly.
Now they had to live under the constant threat of his shadow.
“Find Orochi! Move up our plans!” Kaido barked.
His voice was thunder, filled with dread and fury.
“Seal Wano! Tighten every gate, every port! Kill anyone who tries to leave!”
King dropped to one knee. “Understood, Kaido-san.”
But even behind his mask, his eyes flickered with unease.
Kaido had always radiated indomitable Haki, charging into battle against Whitebeard, Roger, even Golden Lion with reckless confidence.
But this wasn’t confidence.
This was fear.
King felt it in his bones.
Could it happen again?
Could Darren reduce Wano’s weapon factories to rubble like he did with Swollen Town?
That terrifying black sword—the moment it descended, there would be no escape.
---
New World – Somewhere on the Grand Line
Aboard the Moby Dick
The deck was silent.
Not a breath stirred among the Whitebeard Pirates.
The frozen screen still displayed Darren’s grin, the ruins of Swollen Town burning behind him.
Oden leaned on the railing, expression numb. The color had drained from his face.
Marco looked down, fists clenched.
“What a... madman,” he whispered.
He wasn’t exaggerating.
Darren had promised to bring war to the New World—and before anyone could scoff, he’d already delivered.
And he hadn’t even formally taken command of G-5 yet.
Whitebeard said nothing. His face was unreadable. But his silence was heavy.
Because he knew.
They all did.
The Whitebeard Pirates, formidable as they were, didn’t fear Darren in a direct fight.
But their territory was vast. Their reach spanned countless islands, outposts, towns.
And Darren?
He didn’t need to win a war.
He only needed to strike—fast, precise, without warning.
A single flash of black light from above, and entire settlements would vanish.
The Demon Blade didn’t have to fall often.
It only needed to fall once.
That knowledge—that certainty—hung above them all.
Like the mythical Sword of Damocles.
Invisible. Silent. Always waiting to fall.
And with Darren’s warped sense of justice—intensely personal, deeply instinctual, utterly unpredictable—they had no idea when, or where, the next strike would come.
That kind of justice...
The justice born not of law, but of whim, was the most terrifying of all.
To be continued...
Chapter 388: Chapter 31: This Has Nothing to Do with Us
Chapter Text
Loguetown – East Blue
A dim tavern tucked behind the bustling market square.
The lights were low, the tables sticky with spilled beer, and the scent of smoke and salt clung to every surface.
“Hahahahaha! This is too much!”
Roger slammed his tankard onto the table, sloshing ale across the wood. He threw his head back and let loose a booming laugh that shook the rafters.
They’d only meant to stop briefly in Loguetown—to restock supplies, stretch their legs. But Roger, unable to resist the pull of a good drink, had dragged his crew into the first tavern he could find.
He hadn’t expected a show.
The Den Den Mushi screen in the corner had lit up just as they sat down, broadcasting a “live performance” from the New World—Vice Admiral Darren’s ruthless assault on Totto Land.
And now Roger was howling.
“Captain,” one crew member muttered, shrinking behind his mug. “We are still wanted men, y’know… Might not be smart to laugh at the Marines.”
Roger waved him off between guffaws. “So what? The kid’s got style!”
Gaban leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “He did pull your pants down, y’know.”
Roger froze.
A hush fell over the table.
Then, a barely suppressed snort. A stifled chuckle.
Shaking shoulders.
“GABAN!” Roger’s face went crimson. He slammed his fist on the table and pointed furiously. “I told you never to bring that up again!”
Laughter erupted from the crew.
Even Rayleigh smirked, sipping his sake.
Off to the side, in a dim corner booth, two red-nosed teenagers watched the screen in grim silence.
Buggy swallowed hard.
Shanks looked pale.
The images flashing across the Den Den Mushi had stirred something deep and visceral—memories of that madman’s terrifying aura, of the brush with death they’d barely escaped.
“He’s getting even stronger…” Buggy muttered.
“Too strong,” Shanks added under his breath.
At the bar, Douglas Bullet sat with a scowl, drinking heavily.
He hadn’t touched his food.
The images on the screen replayed in his mind—over and over—each one more infuriating than the last.
“That bastard Darren…” Bullet growled. “He's evolving.”
He thought his training with Captain Roger had pushed him close to mastery. He’d improved—he knew he had.
But watching Darren’s performance... it didn’t feel like watching a fellow warrior.
It felt like watching a wall he couldn’t break through.
A flawless, brutal execution of hand-to-hand combat—without even relying on Devil Fruit tricks or high-level Haki. Just pure, terrifying efficiency.
Bullet clenched his mug until the handle cracked.
He’s better than me at the thing I’m best at...
“Don’t let it get to you,” someone said behind him.
“Yeah,” another added. “You’re already crazy strong.”
“Once your Haki catches up, you’ll outmatch him.”
Bullet didn’t respond.
He just stared at the screen.
Rayleigh watched him for a moment, then turned to the crew.
“That Marine,” he said, voice calm, “isn’t just strong. He’s calculating.”
Rayleigh’s tone sobered the table.
“That livestream wasn’t just a spectacle—it was a message. A declaration.”
The others nodded slowly.
“After this, no one will touch G-5 without thinking twice,” he said. “Not unless they’re ready to lose everything.”
That was the real point.
Darren had put the world on notice.
He hadn’t just destroyed a pirate stronghold—he’d shown the New World’s heavyweights what would happen if they crossed him.
And unlike Golden Lion, Darren had targets. He had a base, a rising faction, a vision—and now, a very real deterrent.
Because even pirates had weaknesses.
Families. Friends. Territory. Fortresses. Dreams.
And Darren had just demonstrated he was willing—and able—to burn those things to ash.
Gaban’s face darkened.
“What makes him dangerous isn’t his strength. It’s that he doesn’t believe in anything.”
“No rules. No honor. Just instinct.”
“Justice by whim…” Rayleigh murmured.
Roger suddenly threw his arms wide and leaned back in his chair with a massive grin. “Hahaha! What’s that got to do with us?”
“We’re broke! We’ve got no base, no land, no ties!”
He puffed out his chest proudly.
“Nothing to lose—so there’s nothing for him to burn!”
The room went quiet.
...Did this guy just flex about being broke?
Behind the bar, the tavern owner’s face turned green.
You're broke and you still dragged thirty pirates in here to drink?!
---
Across the world, similar scenes played out.
In kingdoms, on ships, in slums and palaces—people watched the replay with wide eyes and open mouths.
“Vice Admiral Rogers Darren... What is that mobility?!”
“He crushed Big Mom’s island in minutes...!”
“Does this mean the Marines can respond to pirate attacks instantly now?”
“Is this a warning?”
“...It’s a threat.”
Panic gripped some. Others cheered.
In Marineford—
Fleet Admiral’s Office
Five minutes had passed since Darren’s final words.
But the high command still hadn’t moved.
Sengoku slowly lowered the military Den Den Mushi, his hands oddly still. The image of Darren emerging from the fire remained vivid in his mind.
It felt surreal.
“Fleet Admiral Kong…”
He turned to speak—but before he could finish, the door burst open.
A breathless messenger stumbled in, sweat streaming down his brow.
“R-report! Urgent!”
Kong scowled. “I said no interruptions during a command debrief.”
“I—I know, sir,” the young man stammered, “but—this can’t wait!”
“Three minutes ago, we started receiving direct calls from royal families, high-level officials, and leaders across the world.”
“Every last one of them is congratulating us... on the success of the graduation ceremony.”
The room fell silent.
Kong, Sengoku, Garp, Tsuru, Zephyr, Borsalino—every officer glanced at each other, confusion slowly giving way to understanding.
Of course.
These calls had nothing to do with the graduation.
If that were the case, the calls would’ve come much earlier.
These were not congratulations.
They were concessions.
Darren’s attack had sent a message, and the world had received it loud and clear.
Sakazuki snorted.
Opportunistic cowards.
The messenger gulped again. “Also—uh—many of the Member States have pledged voluntary donations to assist with the reconstruction of Marineford.”
At that, Kong and Sengoku’s eyes lit up.
Now that’s a result.
To be continued...
Chapter 389: Chapter 32: The Unexpected Surprise
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Donations? What donations?”
Sengoku's voice cracked like a whip. His eyes snapped toward the young messenger, blazing with sudden intensity.
The room went still.
Too still.
A beat passed—then Sengoku blinked, catching the startled expression on the messenger’s face… and the barely suppressed smirks of the other officers around him.
He coughed twice and quickly smoothed his expression, adopting a grave tone. “Ah… yes. Donations. The Member States are far too generous.”
He folded his arms, nodded solemnly.
“Of course, rebuilding Marineford should be a matter of internal discipline. Accepting foreign contributions too early… well, that would be inappropriate.”
Tsuru rolled her eyes.
Zephyr’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.
The messenger gave a slow, reverent nod. “Understood. Admiral Sengoku is a shining beacon of Marine virtue. I’ll inform the Member States that their donations have been—”
“Wait.”
Sengoku’s voice dropped an octave. He took a step forward, eyes darkening. “Hold on.”
He cleared his throat again.
“Ahem. However… since the Member States are offering their goodwill, it might be ungracious to turn them down entirely. Wouldn’t you say, Fleet Admiral Kong?”
He shot Kong a pleading side-eye.
Kong didn’t even look at him.
His lip twitched slightly.
Sengoku: …
Everyone else: …
---
Snack Island — Swollen Town (or what remained of it)
The call ended with a soft click. The Visual Den Den Mushi, its windproof goggles blinking, fell silent atop a half-melted barrel.
Darren exhaled and rolled his shoulders, the sound of shifting rubble echoing behind him.
With a casual wave of his hand, a black streak of light zipped through the scorched sky.
Enma—his Demon Blade—returned to his palm in a flash of darkness, humming with barely restrained power.
He turned, ready to leave.
But then—he paused.
His brow furrowed.
A slow grin crept across his lips. “I expected Big Mom to come herself,” he murmured. “But it looks like she’s sent someone even more interesting.”
He turned back toward the blackened ruins, where smoke still curled like grasping fingers through the air.
And from that smoke…
A figure emerged.
“You destroyed Swollen Town,” the man said, voice low and thick with rage. “You killed my brothers.”
Heavy boots crunched over rubble. A long shadow stretched forward.
“And you thought you could just leave?”
He stepped fully into view.
Leather pants clung to long, powerful legs. A bare torso rippled with muscle, crisscrossed with angry crimson tattoos. Dark red hair, short and tousled, framed a face mostly hidden beneath a wide scarf. But the eyes—
The eyes were unmistakable.
Bloodshot.
Blazing.
Locked onto Darren with a fury that transcended words.
The trident in his right hand gleamed in the light of the fires behind him.
A tide of killing intent surged through the air.
Darren’s smirk widened, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, well… Charlotte Katakuri.”
Vice-Captain of the Big Mom Pirates.
The “Great Master.”
And the only person aside from Kaido to hold second place in the original world rankings.
A walking fortress. A master of Observation Haki. A prodigy whose future sight ability had become the stuff of legend.
Darren tilted his head.
This... could be fun.
Especially since his own Observation Haki had only recently awakened. It remained his weakest talent by far.
This could push me.
“This isn’t a matter of whether I can stop you,” Katakuri growled, lifting his gaze.
“It’s a matter of whether I must.”
He stepped forward—
Boom!
—and hurled his trident, Earth Dragon, with terrifying force.
The weapon screamed through the air, shockwaves rippling in its wake.
It was upon Darren in a heartbeat.
Zzzzt...
Blue arcs of electricity flickered across his body.
Boom!
The trident stopped—just five centimeters from Darren’s face—caught by an invisible magnetic field.
Dust whipped into the air. Darren’s coat billowed behind him, caught in the swirling winds.
He stood unmoved.
An arrogant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You do take after that madwoman,” he muttered. “Raw strength. No tricks. I respect that.”
His eyes narrowed.
“But if this is all you’ve got… you’re not ready to avenge anyone.”
“Shut up!” Katakuri’s roar split the sky.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Then—suddenly—there, in front of Darren, fist cocked back, coated in jet-black Armament Haki with a crimson sheen.
It flew toward Darren’s face with the force of a meteor.
Darren didn’t dodge.
He met the punch with his own, their fists colliding mid-air.
BOOOOM!
The ground shattered.
Lightning-like arcs of Conqueror’s Haki burst from the point of impact, red and violet bolts searing the sky. A storm of energy exploded outward, flattening the landscape and sending debris flying for kilometers.
A clash of kings.
Crack!
A faint sound echoed from Katakuri’s forearm.
His expression twisted. His right foot slid back slightly.
He’s strong, Katakuri realized, alarm flashing in his eyes. Terrifyingly strong.
The pressure rolling off Darren… it was nearly as suffocating as Big Mom’s.
“You think that’s enough to kill me, Katakuri?” Darren laughed, taking a step forward.
“Damn it!”
Katakuri’s hand shot out.
His trident, still hovering midair, flew back into his grasp.
In a single motion, his right arm transformed—mochi twisting, coiling, engulfing the trident like a living rope.
He spun.
Thrust.
“Mochi Thrust!”
The trident spiraled toward Darren’s abdomen like a drill, its tip howling through the air.
Darren moved calmly.
His left hand—hardened into a jet-black dragon claw—snapped up and caught the trident mid-spin.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks exploded. The impact rang out like a forge struck by lightning.
Darren’s right hand followed instantly—aiming for Katakuri’s face.
But—
Squish.
His fingers met mochi.
Half of Katakuri’s face had shifted—transformed into a rippling mass of white dough. His remaining eye glowed with eerie crimson light.
And Darren understood.
Observation Haki that sees the future...
Katakuri had predicted the attack and altered his body before it happened—mimicking the elemental evasion of a Logia-type user.
Darren’s eyes lit up with interest.
“Well,” he murmured, grinning.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
To be continued...
Notes:
Volume III has been fully released on my Patreon — that’s nearly 100 chapters already available, and all of them are completely free to read.
patreon.com/Bellirys
Chapter 390: Chapter 33: In the Midst of Cultivation
Chapter Text
Chapter 33: In the Midst of Cultivatio
A glint of unrestrained delight flashed in Darren’s eyes before he threw his head back in manic laughter, the sound sharp and wild, reverberating with exhilaration.
“You’ve actually mastered Observation Haki to the level of foresight! Hahaha! At your age? You really are the Charlotte Family’s greatest masterpiece!”
Katakuri’s body went still. His pupils narrowed, a flicker of unease coiling in his chest.
This madman...
He’d just revealed a high-level ability that most could only dream of attaining—and this man wasn’t alarmed or defensive. No, Darren looked thrilled. Elated.
It chilled him.
“In that case,” Darren growled, stepping forward with a feral grin splitting his face, “I won’t hold back!”
A violent surge of power burst from his legs, snapping up his spine like a whip. His muscles coiled, precise and lethal, as he launched a punch that cracked the very air.
His spirit, body, and technique had merged into one seamless force.
Serious Punch!
A thunderclap of motion—his jet-black fist rocketed forward, expanding in Katakuri’s vision like the descent of a meteor.
Something’s wrong!
The moment the blow approached, the world around Katakuri seemed to drain away—sights, sounds, sensation all evaporating, as though he’d plunged into a void.
Every pore on his body screamed in alarm.
The aura behind Darren’s punch was... wrong. Not just overwhelming—it was uncanny. Primeval. A power that could reduce mountains to dust.
His Observation Haki surged to life. Crimson mist swirled in his pupils as he peered into the web of fate.
But no matter how many threads he grasped, how many futures he glimpsed—
Not one showed him dodging the blow.
Impossible...!
He’s locked onto my aura—my very presence—with Haki and spirit alike! What kind of technique is this?!
A roar of defiance echoed in Katakuri’s mind.
In a heartbeat, he chose.
His arm swelled into a bulging sphere of mochi, condensing into a thick, bludgeoning mass. He threw it forward like a battering ram, straight into Darren’s strike.
“Horned Mochi!”
Black-and-red Armament Haki crackled to life, dancing like lightning over his mochi fist.
And then—
BOOM!!
Their clash detonated with bone-rattling force. The ground buckled, debris ripped into the air like shrapnel.
Katakuri grunted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he was hurled backward, skidding dozens of meters.
But even in midair, he moved.
His form blurred, his melted face reforming, his right arm shifting again—this time into a multi-barreled Gatling gun formed of hardened mochi.
Haki laced the weapon as it spun wildly, spewing a storm of compressed mochi bullets like a rain of meteors.
“Peerless Mochi Blade Bullets!”
Darren’s brow furrowed.
So he’s shifting to ranged combat now...
In an instant, he grasped the logic—Katakuri had recognized the danger of close-quarters and adapted.
Darren’s Observation Haki flickered to life. His biomagnetic field expanded outward, picking up everything—sound, heat, kinetic tremors. Deep within his eyes, tiny strands of blue electricity pulsed like veins of living energy.
He vanished.
Or rather, he moved so fast he left behind a string of afterimages.
Bang bang bang bang...
The barrage tore through his echoes, splintering walls, gouging craters into the earth.
Katakuri’s bullets weren’t metallic—Darren couldn’t manipulate them. Each shot was dense mochi, infused with Haki, immune to his magnetic field.
As Katakuri landed, he staggered slightly, then braced. His spiked boots carved twin trenches in the ground as he fought the recoil of his own force.
With a grunt, he slammed his right foot down—boom!—digging a crater deep into the earth to anchor himself.
He inhaled sharply, eyes gleaming crimson. He locked onto Darren’s likely landing point, a product of pure precognition.
Then—he moved.
Just a half-step forward.
His arm transformed once more, a thick mass of compressed mochi, pulsing with heat and Haki.
“Grill!”
FWOOOSH!
Friction ignited the surface—the mochi blazed crimson, flames licking the air as the rocket-propelled fist launched, trailing fire like a comet across the battlefield.
“Grilled Mochi Rocket Launcher!”
And then—an uncanny sight.
Just as the blazing projectile veered off course, about to miss...
Darren appeared right where it was going to hit.
As if fated.
If not for the flicker of surprise on his face, it might have looked planned.
“Foresight...!”
The searing rocket filled his vision. His precognition screamed—but it was too late to act on it.
That was the peril of foresight: knowing what would happen didn’t always mean you could stop it.
But instinct took over where thought failed.
Years of battle reflex surged up as his body moved on its own, muscle memory guiding him into a defensive stance.
Dragon Claw Fist
A razor-edged strike tore through the air, forming white shock ripples as it met the projectile head-on.
BOOM!
The explosion hurled Darren backward. He crashed through two buildings, skidding across the ground—but never fell.
“I told you—that temperature doesn’t work on me!” Darren roared.
He stomped forward, Dragon Claw surging with black Haki. The flaming mochi burst apart, scattering in a rain of charred fragments.
From the smoke, Katakuri emerged once more—expression cold, eyes narrowed, blood seeping from his lip.
His right arm had already reformed.
Both limbs transformed into serpentine coils of mochi, imbued with Haki. They whipped and lashed like a storm of living rope.
"Famous Chestnut Mochi!"
The fists came like a monsoon—relentless, rapid-fire, machine-gun ferocity.
Darren didn’t retreat.
He met every blow head-on.
Fist met fist. Sparks flew. Dull impacts thundered through the air, each clash sending shockwaves rippling across the ruined battlefield.
Katakuri pushed his Observation Haki to its peak, reading Darren’s every twitch and breath, intercepting his reactions before they happened.
And under that pressure—Darren bled.
Just a trickle. A thin line from the corner of his mouth.
But Katakuri saw it. And his eyes gleamed.
It’s working!
Darren’s brute strength was monstrous. In sheer physical might, Katakuri couldn’t compare.
But Haki evened the scales.
He pressed harder, fists blurring.
What he didn’t see—what no one could—was the faint, almost imperceptible curve of Darren’s lips.
A ghost of a smile beneath the hailstorm of fists.
Even as he focused entirely on dodging and defending, a string of messages flickered silently before his eyes:
Observation Haki +0.03
Observation Haki +0.04
Observation Haki +0.03
Observation Haki...
...
...
...
To be continued...
Chapter 391: Chapter 34: Double Happiness
Chapter Text
Darren's Observation Haki was evolving—fast. Faster than ever before.
Now this... this is a real master.
The quality of this “lesson” was something he hadn’t felt since the brutal, almost sadistic training under Fatty Quinn in the Beast Pirates’ prison.
Bang!
A dense, mochi-laced fist smashed into Darren’s face. His head snapped to the side with a vicious crack. His cheekbone bruised, blood welled from the corner of his mouth.
And yet—his eyes only burned brighter.
His grin widened.
Observation Haki had always been his Achilles’ heel.
Darren had long relied on his monstrous physique and magnetic field perception. By comparison, the elusive nature of Observation Haki had remained frustratingly out of reach.
It had taken Zephyr-sensei’s cruel, near-deadly training—his wrists bound in Sea Stone shackles, his body driven to the brink—to finally awaken the ability.
But awakening it was one thing.
Mastering it?
That was another beast entirely.
No matter how he pushed himself, the skill had remained stagnant, inching forward at a snail’s pace. His progress had been all pain and no payoff.
Until now.
Now, in the heart of battle, Darren felt it again—that familiar, bittersweet ecstasy of evolution. The kind he’d only felt under the relentless torment of the Beast Pirates.
This wasn’t just a brawl. This was adaptation.
Every strike from Katakuri, every clash of fists, wasn’t just endured—it was studied. Mimicked. Internalized.
Darren wasn’t simply taking hits. He was learning.
Observing how Katakuri used his Haki—how he sensed, how he predicted—Darren pushed his own instincts to match.
Bit by bit, as the rain of fists continued, the fog lifted. The blows that had once been blurs now carried shape. Clarity. His perception sharpened like a blade. The crimson gleam in his eyes deepened.
Katakuri began to notice.
Something had changed.
His punches weren’t landing like before.
At the start of the battle, he could connect five out of ten blows.
Now? Two, at best. And even those seemed... shallow.
A chill ran down his spine.
He’s improving—right before my eyes!
Katakuri’s expression darkened with disbelief.
"His Observation Haki is growing stronger—in real time?!"
"Impossible!" he snarled, voice cracking as his fists thundered down harder, faster, more desperate.
The storm of punches grew into a full-scale downpour—black-and-red fists slamming like falling meteors. Each one laced with killing intent.
But Darren stood tall, laughter curling from his bloodied lips.
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Katakuri,” he said, voice low and wild. “You’re one hell of a teacher.”
And then, behind that grin—
A flicker.
That eerie red shimmer deep in Darren’s eyes pulsed, and with it came a breakthrough.
Observation Haki—60 points.
Even Darren paused.
His weakest skill had just overtaken his Armament Haki.
In a single breath, the battlefield shifted.
The world slowed.
Sound dropped away, muffled and distant, as if underwater. Everything moved in deliberate, exaggerated frames—every leaf, every ripple of dust, every flicker of movement etched into his vision like ink on a scroll.
A quiet clarity settled over him.
And then—he moved.
Whoosh!
Darren blurred forward, electricity arcing in blue strands behind him. He slipped through the storm of punches like a ghost, his body a living bolt of precision.
His thigh muscles tensed, cords of power flexing beneath his uniform. He twisted, launching a brutal side kick toward Katakuri’s gut.
Bang!
Katakuri barely had time to cross his arms before the kick landed.
The force erupted outward in a shockwave so violent it cracked the ground beneath them.
Katakuri was launched like a cannonball—his breath torn from his lungs, blood flying from his mouth.
Boom! One building shattered.
Boom! Another exploded in dust and rubble.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
He tore through over a dozen structures, carving a path of destruction through the heart of Swollen Town. He finally crashed into the far-off ruins, a hundred-meter-tall plume of dust rising in his wake.
The island groaned beneath the impact. Pebbles bounced and skittered across the fractured earth.
“Dead?” Darren muttered, landing with fluid ease. He wiped the blood from his mouth and narrowed his eyes at the distant wreckage.
He hadn’t meant to go all out.
But in that moment, as his Observation Haki surged, he’d instinctively let it happen.
Katakuri’s “guidance” was working. And Darren had no plans of letting a teacher like this go to waste.
Sure, Kaido and Big Mom were strong—but their teaching style was all blunt force trauma. One wrong move and you were dead. No space to adapt, let alone learn.
Katakuri, though...
He was just right.
Young, but already wielding future-sight like a master. Yet not so powerful that Darren couldn’t overwhelm him. Just strong enough to push him. To teach.
He was a goldmine of experience.
Darren grinned.
Perfect sparring partner.
His Observation Haki had only just broken 60. There was so much more room to grow.
Compared to that guy, the one who mastered future-sight in half a day, Darren still felt slow.
But he’d take steady progress over nothing.
Then—
A ragged voice rose from the rubble.
“Impossible… How could I lose… like this…”
From the dust, a bloodied hand clawed out, trembling.
Katakuri’s form staggered into view, coughing violently, blood dripping from his chin. One knee hit the ground, his hand bracing against it for balance.
His scarf had torn away.
The face it once hid—a monstrous visage with curved fangs—was fully exposed.
His crimson eyes locked onto Darren, seething with pain and fury.
“I promised... I’d protect my siblings…”
He raised his head.
“I won’t let you win! Not here! Not now!”
And with that, he roared.
The cry echoed across the shattered town—and the world responded.
Everything shifted.
The ruins of Swollen Town—the scorched stone, the collapsed buildings, the cracked trees—
All of it twisted.
Morphed.
The land itself writhed, convulsing into white.
Mochi.
Endless mochi.
Walls, rubble, earth—everything transformed into a churning ocean of white mass, alive and furious beneath Katakuri’s feet.
A storm of awakened power.
“Devil Fruit ability... awakened!”
Darren froze.
Then burst out laughing, elated.
He hadn’t even finished training his Observation Haki...
And now he was getting a Devil Fruit awakening lesson, too?
Double the luck.
To be continued...
Chapter 392: Chapter 35: A Trilling Battle
Chapter Text
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Darren’s expression was unreadable as he stood amid the shattered remains of Swollen Town, watching Katakuri—barely twenty years old—command the battlefield like a seasoned war god.
He hadn’t just mastered Observation Haki to the level of foresight...
He’d awakened his Devil Fruit.
This kid… is terrifying.
Darren knew what Awakening meant. When a Devil Fruit user pushes their power to its absolute edge—beyond mastery, beyond instinct—they step into a realm called Awakening.
Each of the Three Major Devil Fruit Types evolved differently.
Zoan types gained monstrous recovery, their bodies healing from mortal wounds like nothing.
Logias? The manga hadn’t shown it outright, but the aftermath of Punk Hazard—the war between Kuzan and Sakazuki that forever changed the island’s weather—offered hints. Weather control, perhaps. Elemental dominance.
But Paramecia?
They could alter the environment itself.
And Katakuri—standing there in his sea of living mochi—was the embodiment of that truth. The town around him had melted into a pulsing, undulating swamp of white, all of it under his will.
But...
He was just twenty.
Darren blinked, momentarily thrown.
Is this the Charlotte Family’s crowning jewel? Or... did he awaken mid-fight?
Had he—Marine Vice Admiral Darren—accidentally played the role of some divine battle sensei?
No, he quickly shook the thought off. It didn’t make sense.
Katakuri’s control over the awakened Mochi-Mochi Fruit was too precise, too fluid. This wasn’t a first-time power spike. This was practice. Mastery.
This guy’s talent really is terrifying.
“You’d better start praying, bastard!”
Katakuri’s voice tore through Darren’s thoughts. With a roar, he slammed his palm into the ground.
The earth surged like a living wave.
“Flowing Mochi!”
A roaring tide of sticky white mochi exploded outward, devouring everything in its path—buildings, rubble, even streetlamps—all dragged into the writhing mire.
Darren’s eyes snapped wide. Without hesitation, he vaulted into the air, twisting midair like a dancer, narrowly avoiding the engulfing wave below.
But even as he dodged, he analyzed.
The way the mochi moved. The way Katakuri controlled it.
Every gesture. Every shift of energy.
Darren’s Magnet-Magnet Fruit and Katakuri’s Mochi-Mochi Fruit were both Paramecia. They operated differently, sure—but their fundamental developmental paths might share common ground.
And Darren’s Devil Fruit development had been stuck at 83 points for far too long.
Even a single step forward here would be worth it.
From below, Katakuri’s pupils flared red.
He slammed both arms—now transformed into mochi—into the earth.
WHOOSH!
Dozens of thick mochi tendrils burst skyward like pistons, each one targeting Darren mid-flight with pinpoint precision.
“Mochi Rain!”
A barrage of pure mochi, guided by future-sight, rose to seal every route of escape.
Smart. Darren’s lips twitched in admiration.
“Well played!”
Blue sparks flared at his fingertips.
Two brilliant flashes—one black, one white—sliced through the sky like twin bolts of vengeance.
Enma. Kariumi.
The Great Grade-21 blade and Skillful Grade-50 blade howled through the air under Darren’s magnetic control, weaving like threads through a needle’s eye.
Shockwaves rippled outward, white rings slicing through the mochi storm as the swords hurtled straight for Katakuri.
Fast. Katakuri’s breath caught.
The vision he saw in the next second left no doubt.
Evade—and he’d lose an arm. Or worse, a heart.
No escape.
Only one path left: head-on.
His eyes narrowed. He grit his teeth.
Behind him, the ground erupted into two towering mounds of mochi.
“Peerless Doughnut.”
The moment he stepped forward, the mounds shifted—solidifying into massive fists.
Each coated in rich, jet-black Armament Haki.
Katakuri moved.
So did the fists.
“Monstrous Strength: Mochi!”
CLANG! CLANG!
The twin fists collided with Darren’s blades, sending sparks cascading like fireworks. The air cracked.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion tore across the battlefield. The ground split like fractured glass, forming yawning chasms as smoke and mud belched into the sky.
And Katakuri wasn’t done.
“Mochi Rhapsody!”
Before the dust could settle, he surged forward. His own fists blurred into ghostly afterimages, striking with the rhythm of a machine gun.
The Peerless Doughnut mimicked his every motion, unleashing a second wave—fiercer, faster, devastating.
Darren didn’t flinch.
Instead, he laughed.
“Hahahaha! That’s more like it!”
He activated his Observation Haki to the fullest, merging it with his biomagnetic field perception. Red aura flared in his irises, overlapped by brilliant arcs of blue electricity.
The result—
A gleam of violet.
He charged in.
Fist met fist.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
An unrestrained, full-throttle, no-holds-barred brawl.
Observation Haki +0.05
Observation Haki +0.07
Observation Haki +0.06
And somewhere in the background, unnoticed even by Darren himself...
The number ticked upward.
Observation Haki: 70.
And with it—a new trait emerged.
Observation Haki: 70 (Magnetic Field Sensing)
To be continued...
Chapter 393: Chapter 36: I’m the Greatest Masterpiece
Chapter Text
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
A deafening symphony of explosions echoed through the sky. Katakuri’s fists rained down like thunderclaps, shockwaves bursting outward in rippling arcs that tore through the air.
Darren was caught in the center of the storm—a lone figure swallowed by the onslaught, like a battered ship tossed in a violent tempest, moments from sinking beneath the waves.
Boom!
A Haki-hardened mochi fist crashed into Darren’s left cheek. Blood sprayed from the corner of his mouth.
Boom!!
Another blow struck his gut, hard and deep. A mixture of blood and air erupted from his throat.
Katakuri’s strengths were focused. Hyper-focused.
His Observation Haki—razor-sharp, honed to the point of foresight.
His Devil Fruit development—refined, awakened, mastered.
Together, those two skills barely qualified him as a Gold-Tier Fighter.
But the rest—his raw physical strength, his explosive power, his Armament Haki—still lagged behind. He was young. Not yet at his peak. In terms of raw brawn, he was still a Silver Tier, second or third rank at best.
That was why he never fought up close.
He knew better.
He couldn’t afford a direct confrontation with Darren—one mistake, one miscalculation, and Darren would break through his defenses like a hammer through glass.
So Katakuri fought from a distance. Pressuring. Grinding. Using his awakened Mochi-Mochi Fruit and foresight to bury Darren under an avalanche of high-speed, high-volume attacks.
And it worked—on paper.
Darren couldn’t fully counter without his own foresight. His Observation Haki had yet to stabilize. So he took the hits. Narrowly avoiding the vital ones. Letting his body absorb the rest.
Blood streaked down his ribs. Bruises bloomed across his arms and chest.
And yet—
His grin only widened.
The violet lightning crackling in his eyes grew more erratic, more feral. His pupils shimmered with a savage, manic light.
Because something inside him was changing.
"Yes!" Darren roared. “This is it! This is exactly how it felt!”
That ecstasy—pain and evolution intertwined.
He could feel himself adapting, his body recalibrating with every blow. His nerves, his instincts, his energy perception—everything was sharpening, refining.
“I can see it now!”
Darren’s fists flew, smashing through the mochi assault like hammers breaking stained glass. His punches, reinforced with Armament Haki, split the mochi fists apart in bursts of shattering white.
Katakuri’s breath caught.
He’s adapting. Mid-battle. In real time.
It was impossible. Illogical.
And yet—it was happening.
“This guy… He’s evolving through my attacks?”
Katakuri’s heart pounded. A chill ran through his spine.
He had stood against wave after wave of enemies. Some noble, some monstrous, none forgettable.
But never had he faced something like this.
A man who could withstand his full power and improve from it.
A man who, under the relentless weight of his attacks, not only refused to fall—but grew stronger.
Is this… the Marine version of Big Mom?
For the first time, Katakuri felt it.
Helplessness.
That same suffocating pressure he had only ever known in front of his mother.
His punches slowed.
His rhythm faltered.
Darren felt it immediately.
He’s hesitating.
His grin thinned into a frown.
Is this lesson already coming to an end?
His Observation Haki’s growth had stalled—no longer climbing. Katakuri’s offense had softened.
Not good.
He couldn’t let this end now. Not when his growth was peaking.
With blood still trailing from his lips, Darren tilted his head back and laughed—loud and cruel.
“Is this it, Katakuri? Is this all you’ve got? Hah!”
He looked down with contempt, voice rising with venom.
“And here I thought you were supposed to be the big brother worth avenging!”
Katakuri stiffened. The words hit like a slap.
“Shut your mouth!!” he roared, veins bulging across his forehead.
He threw himself forward, fury igniting every nerve.
Exactly as planned.
Darren's smile deepened into something darker.
“Not enough! Not nearly enough!”
“The sea calls you Charlotte’s greatest masterpiece! Your siblings look up to you like you’re untouchable… But this is how you protect them?”
His voice dropped, cold and sharp.
“You want to protect them?”
A beat.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Darren’s eyes narrowed, seething with mockery.
“You haven’t protected anything.”
Yeah, yeah... villains usually say things like this before they get slapped into the dirt. But then again, I’ve never been the hero type.
He rolled the taunts out with practiced ease, each word laced with poison.
And Katakuri—he took the bait.
His fury surged. His snarl twisted into something animal.
The assault resumed.
Even fiercer than before.
Darren braced himself. But now, something was off.
Huh...?
My Observation Haki isn’t improving as quickly…
He narrowed his eyes, analyzing.
Maybe Katakuri’s no longer strong enough to push me... Or maybe my Haki's reaching that point where further growth gets slower. That steep climb at the top…
He pondered for a heartbeat, then made a decision.
Let’s see if I can squeeze a little more out of him.
With a wicked glint in his eye, he sneered.
“Still not enough!”
Darren raised his voice, loud enough for every syllable to pierce through the din.
“I get it now—I finally understand why Big Mom wants me as her husband!”
Katakuri’s breath hitched.
Darren leaned in, voice dropping to a dagger-like whisper.
“She’s disgusted by your weakness.”
“That’s why she needs someone stronger—to replace you.”
The effect was instantaneous.
“Impossible!!”
Katakuri’s scream tore from his throat, primal and raw.
“Shut up!!”
“Mother trusts me! She always has! I’ve been her right hand since I was a child!”
“Nothing can change that!!”
He launched forward, face twisted in fury, voice cracking with the weight of his unraveling restraint.
“I AM THE CHARLOTTE FAMILY’S ULTIMATE MASTERPIECE!!”
His power surged wildly. Unstable. Furious.
Darren’s heart pounded in his chest—and he laughed like a madman.
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Funny… because Big Mom didn’t seem to think that when she joined forces with Golden Lion and Kaido just to get her hands on me.”
He stepped forward, his voice dripping with scorn.
“What’s she ever done for you, Katakuri?”
“I’ve killed her sons. Lots of them.”
“And what did she say?”
He threw his arms wide, as if presenting himself to the world.
“Probably something like: ‘No big deal~’”
Then, with mock innocence, he added:
“And let me guess... she probably makes you call me Father, doesn’t she?”
To be continued...
Chapter 394: Chapter 37: Be My Son, Katakuri
Chapter Text
Darren’s words struck like a lightning bolt in the middle of a drought, slicing straight through Katakuri’s chest and lodging deep in his heart.
It wasn’t the first wound.
Darren’s earlier taunts had already chipped away at his pride, clawed at the foundation of his self-worth.
Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom—had never been the kind of mother her children needed. Her obsession with strength, her twisted worldview, had left a gaping hole in the family she created. She gave them life, but not guidance. Power, but not protection.
And into that void stepped Katakuri.
From a young age, he had shouldered the weight of being the eldest. The protector. The example. He carved out the image of the “perfect brother” with blood and resolve—an unshakable figure who never showed weakness, never fell on his back.
The Charlotte Family’s greatest masterpiece.
But he wasn’t just a brother.
In many ways, he became the father his siblings never had.
That burden—the quiet contradiction of being both son and surrogate parent—twisted inside him every day. A heart torn between revering his mother and resenting the weight she’d left him to carry.
And now—now she was obsessed with Darren. Obsessed enough to offer her own sons as pawns. Obsessed enough to join hands with monsters like Kaido and Golden Lion to get him.
To Katakuri, it was betrayal.
And worse—fear.
Because what if Big Mom succeeded?
What if she did bear a child with Darren?
A child born of two monsters—what kind of terrifying talent would that child possess?
That child would eclipse him.
Would take everything he’d built.
Big Mom’s attention. His siblings’ admiration. The identity he had crafted with pain and pride—
All of it.
Stolen.
By a child who had done nothing to earn it.
A child who might one day be hailed as the true masterpiece.
As that thought took hold, Katakuri’s breath faltered. His chest tightened. His hands trembled.
Fear twisted into hatred.
And then—
Darren delivered the final blow.
His voice, mocking. His smile, venomous.
“And if I’m not mistaken... she probably makes you call me ‘Father,’ doesn’t she?”
“Shut up!!”
Katakuri’s roar ripped the sky.
“You’ll never be my father!! Never—never!!”
Blood sprayed from between his clenched teeth. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and feral, his entire body trembling as if possessed.
The moment his scream shattered the air, his Haki exploded.
A savage, hurricane-force aura burst from him, laced with lightning-like arcs of raw energy. It howled across the battlefield, tearing into the earth.
Darren flinched, stunned.
What the hell...?
His Conqueror’s Haki—it's growing?!
He had sensed Katakuri’s Haki earlier—around 30 points, maybe. But this… this felt like it had climbed well past 40.
Don’t tell me… he’s the protagonist too?!
Or maybe Darren’s villainous trash talk was just that effective.
Huh. I might really have a talent for this “sensei” gig.
Being a villain is kinda exhilarating.
As absurd as the idea was, it didn’t matter—because Darren’s fighting spirit surged, roaring like a wildfire.
He knew the truth: the stronger Katakuri became, the harder he pushed back, the more Darren would grow.
This was no longer just a battle—it was evolution by fire.
With laughter echoing from his throat, Darren charged.
Their fists collided—titan against titan.
BOOM!
A shockwave of cataclysmic force tore through the earth. Boulders and debris rocketed skyward. Whole buildings vaporized midair. Violet and crimson lightning crackled in jagged arcs across the sky, the aftermath of two wills clashing with unrelenting fury.
And Darren felt it—felt his strength surging.
Even with his Observation Haki plateauing, his Armament Haki, his physical might, his instinct—everything else was accelerating again.
He grinned.
“Hahaha! Now it’s getting fun, Katakuri!”
“So this is what you’re afraid of, huh?!”
He laughed louder, more vicious.
“Don’t want to call me Father, is that it?”
Another punch.
A mochi fist shattered, exploding into splattered chunks under the weight of Darren’s strike.
As Darren skidded back, boots grinding through cracked stone, he raised his gaze.
Katakuri stood panting, eyes wild.
And Darren—
Darren smiled.
A wide, self-satisfied, utterly infuriating smile.
He lifted his right hand.
Palm extended.
Not in mockery. Not in threat.
But in invitation.
The kind of gesture only one man had ever made famous.
A smile that carried kindness, pride, and absolute dominance.
Whitebeard’s smile.
And then he said it.
“Become my son, Katakuri.”
Katakuri froze.
It was as if time stopped.
His face drained of color. Veins bulged. Blood vessels burst in his eyes.
“You’re asking for death!!!”
BOOM!!
A new wave of Conqueror’s Haki exploded from him, darker and more violent than before. It twisted the air, creating a storm that tore across the battlefield.
Darren: ...
Wait... again?
He felt the shift.
Katakuri’s Haki was rising again.
40... 42... 44...
Finally, it settled.
45.
Katakuri looked unhinged—blood dripping from his eyes and nose, his muscles twitching, veins crawling across his forehead like living worms.
If this were a game, Darren could almost hear the system announcement:
“You have inflicted massive true damage!”
“Super Effective!”
“Critical Hit!”
Is he seriously about to pop a blood vessel?!
Whitebeard really wasn’t kidding—this line hits harder than a punch.
Darren was still processing the absurdity when—
Katakuri roared.
A beast’s roar. No composure. No precision.
Just pure, desperate rage.
He launched forward, abandoning all form, all strategy.
What remained—
Was a cornered monster.
To be continued...
Chapter 395: Chapter 38: I Can’t Bear to Part
Chapter Text
Katakuri’s usual fighting style was clean, calculated—swift and precise, like a cheetah bringing down its prey with deadly efficiency. Every step, every strike, flowed with purpose and poise.
But now?
That discipline had vanished.
His eyes were bloodshot, streaked with pulsing crimson veins. His killing intent poured from him like a storm breaking free of the sky.
All reason had been consumed by rage.
He no longer fought to protect anyone. He wasn’t fighting as Big Mom’s commander or the Charlotte Family’s guardian.
He was fighting as a man whose pride had been shattered.
And the one who shattered it stood just meters away, grinning like the devil himself.
“You—die!!”
Katakuri roared, vanishing in a blink.
He reappeared above Darren, his silhouette framed by the fractured sky.
“Monster Strength Mochi!”
A mountainous fist of jet-black mochi materialized—Armament Haki layered thick and heavy across its hardened surface. It plummeted like a falling star, compressing the air beneath it into violent shockwaves. The force alone cracked the earth at Darren’s feet before the blow even landed.
Darren’s lips curled into a feral grin.
A flash of violet lightning sparked in his eyes.
His Observation Haki—now refined to 70 points—had undergone a transformation. When paired with his Magnet-Magnet Fruit, it birthed something new: Magnetic Field Sensing.
Not unlike how the Rumble-Rumble Fruit enhanced Observation Haki via electromagnetic waves, Darren’s version sharpened it with ruthless precision. While Enel gained range, Darren gained clarity.
His 70-point Observation Haki now rivaled 80 in sheer accuracy.
Crystal clear…
His feet tapped the ground in a blur—dozens of steps in a heartbeat.
And then he vanished.
BOOM!!
Katakuri’s fist landed, gouging out a crater that split the town in half. Buildings crumbled like paper. Rubble flew skyward in a mushroom cloud of dust and ruin.
Dozens of meters away, Darren skidded backward, the earth ripping beneath his heels.
Then—he launched.
A thunderous crack echoed as he blasted upward, the force of his leap blowing a crater wide enough to swallow a warship.
“I’m going to kill you!!”
Katakuri roared, his fists already flying.
Nine Peerless Doughnuts spiraled around him, their mochi limbs writhing and multiplying until they filled the sky.
“Nine-Headed Mochi!!”
A rain of fists descended.
But Darren’s vision had shifted.
Time didn’t slow—it shattered.
Every frame of movement unfolded like a sequence in a flipbook. He could see it all—the trajectory, the angle, the impact point. It was beautiful. Precise.
He soared between the attacks with blinding speed, streaking through the sky like a living bullet. His afterimages rippled through the air.
“Hahahaha! Not enough! Not nearly enough!” Darren laughed, sparks dancing in his eyes. “Today, Pops is gonna teach you a lesson—my son, Katakuri!”
In an instant, he was in Katakuri’s face.
A fist, crackling with Haki, tore through the air.
But to his surprise—
Katakuri didn’t dodge.
He charged in.
Eyes wild. Fist raised.
No Peerless Doughnuts this time.
Just rage.
Just flesh and bone and fury.
Their punches collided mid-air.
Or almost did.
Darren tilted his head at the last moment.
Katakuri’s fist grazed his hair.
Darren’s fist—
Landed flush on Katakuri’s jaw.
Bang!
Blood exploded from Katakuri’s mouth and nose. His head snapped back violently. Were it not for his Paramecia-enhanced body, his skull would have caved in like a melon under a hammer.
Darren: ???
He didn’t dodge.
No—he couldn’t.
His Observation Haki had failed him.
Ah… so that’s why mine stopped improving, Darren realized.
I broke him.
He’d gone too far. His words, his taunts, his games—they had shattered Katakuri’s focus.
The young commander thrived in calm, calculated combat, dominating opponents with foresight and timing. Without that mental clarity, he was a storm without a center—louder, flashier, but easier to pierce.
BOOM!
Katakuri’s body crashed into the earth, carving a crater over a hundred meters wide. Dust and debris blanketed the air.
Darren hovered for a moment, eyes narrowed.
He stared down at the battered, bleeding form sprawled in the rubble.
Do I finish him?
As a Marine, he was supposed to.
But Darren was no ordinary Marine.
And Katakuri... was no ordinary pirate.
He still had potential. Real potential. With time and guidance, he could break into Admiral-tier. And Darren—Darren hadn’t finished learning yet.
Killing him now would be like throwing away a perfectly good training dummy.
Then—
“Why are you hesitating, Marine?!”
Katakuri’s voice rasped from below, hoarse but alive. He glared up through one swollen eye, barely breathing.
“Just do it! Kill me!”
Darren stared.
He wants to die already?
Still too young.
Then, with a slow grin, he replied.
“I could never bear to let you go.”
He sighed dramatically, eyes gleaming.
“You’re my precious son, after all.”
He crouched slightly, looking into Katakuri’s stunned, bloodshot eyes.
“A little mischievous, sure—but come on... what kind of adult holds a grudge against a child?”
Katakuri stared.
And then choked.
Ugh!
A thick stream of blood burst from his mouth. His face contorted in disbelief.
He could not—could not—believe what he was hearing.
Then...
A voice echoed from above. Smoky. Seductive. Familiar.
“Ma~mamamama! Darren, I heard that! So you’ve finally come to your senses and accepted your role as my husband?”
The sky darkened.
A vortex of clouds spun overhead, blotting out the sun. Violet lightning streaked across the blackened sky, and the air crackled with a monstrous pressure.
Darren’s face twisted.
“Oh, hell no.”
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the pitch-black blade of Enma. Magnetism surged beneath him, and with a thunderous blast, he shot forward like a dark comet, streaking toward the horizon.
Absolutely not.
He was still drained from fighting Katakuri. There was no way he was taking on her right now.
Even at full strength, he’d rather not.
Not against that madwoman.
The way she looked at him—like a wedding cake she wanted to devour—still haunted his dreams.
Katakuri watched, wide-eyed, as the Marine who had just humiliated him disappeared into the distance.
From far, far away, Darren’s voice echoed faintly over the wind:
“I never agreed to this!! Keep dreaming, Charlotte Linlin!!”
To be continued...
Chapter 396: Chapter 39: Planting a Seed
Chapter Text
The Marine Vice Admiral vanished.
Not simply moved—vanished.
With his speed pushed to its peak, Darren disappeared in less than a second, leaving only a streak of white contrail cutting through the burning clouds of the distant sunset.
Katakuri stood bloodied and dazed, staring blankly at the fading line across the sky. His eye twitched involuntarily.
He ran.
After all that bluster… he actually ran?
But beneath the initial wave of disbelief, a deeper feeling settled into Katakuri’s chest—a cold, hollow sense of helplessness.
His heartbeat slowed. His mind cleared.
And with that clarity, his Observation Haki returned.
He shivered.
In Darren’s final burst of movement—his so-called “escape”—Katakuri had felt it: a level of power even greater than during their fight. A level he hadn’t shown before.
Which meant...
He wasn’t even fighting at full strength.
Katakuri lowered his head. His bloodied fingers dug into the cracked earth. His teeth clenched so hard his jaw trembled.
Can I really defeat a man like that?
Can I truly protect my family... avenge my fallen siblings?
“Mama~ma... what a heartless man...”
The sky split open with a peal of laughter, laced with thunder.
From the swirling clouds above, streaked with lightning, a massive figure descended.
Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom—landed with an earth-shaking thud.
She gazed into the horizon, watching Darren vanish from sight. Her lips curled into a crimson smile.
“Even the way he runs is charming,” she murmured with delight. “Truly a man worthy of me.”
She licked her lips slowly.
Dismounting from Thundercloud Zeus, she strode forward with regal steps. Her towering frame cast a long shadow across Katakuri’s battered body.
“Katakuri,” she called sweetly, “do you understand now?”
He didn’t look up.
Still kneeling, still catching his breath, he whispered, “I don’t understand, Mother.”
Big Mom chuckled, the sound rich and indulgent.
“Now that you’ve fought him, surely you see why I chose him.”
“His strength... his physique... those flawless genes... Mama~! When I bear his child, we’ll create the strongest warrior the sea has ever seen!”
Her eyes gleamed with hunger.
“He’ll be born with unrivaled power, surpassing even the giants. With him, the Charlotte Family will dominate the world.”
The words slid into Katakuri’s mind like knives.
And with them, so did Darren’s voice—
“She despises your weakness. She wants a stronger son. One to replace you.”
Katakuri’s fists clenched. Veins bulged across his arms. His back trembled as his knuckles turned pale.
His voice, when it came, was low. Unsteady. Dangerous.
“So… to gain his bloodline, you were willing to let our siblings die?”
“To sacrifice your children?”
Big Mom’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker.
“Of course,” she said lightly. “The weak have no right to bear my name.”
“Only the strong are worthy of carrying my bloodline.”
“You, Katakuri—you are the proof of that. That’s why I trust you most.”
Katakuri went still.
He couldn’t breathe.
Her words weren’t cruel or angry.
They were worse.
They were sincere.
The last light in his eyes flickered.
Faded.
So it’s true...
That damned Marine was right.
To you, we’re not sons or daughters—we’re weapons.
Tools.
And I… I’m only favored because I’m sharper than the others.
If someone sharper comes along, I’ll be tossed aside.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t lift his head.
Big Mom walked closer, still smiling.
“Mama Katakuri, get up already.”
“You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re the face of the Big Mom Pirates, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be so heartbroken.”
She grinned.
“When I give birth to Darren’s child, you’ll gain a new little brother. A perfect one. Stronger than you.”
“You’ll love him. He’ll be adorable. And you’re such a perfect big brother.”
“You two will carry my flag together. You’ll lead the family. Rule the seas.”
“Mama!”
With that, she stepped back onto Zeus and soared into the sky, laughter echoing across the crumbling town as her monstrous aura faded into the clouds.
Katakuri was left alone.
Silent.
Still.
He didn’t know how much time passed.
Then, slowly, he spoke.
“No...”
He clenched his teeth, voice shaking with fury.
The defeat in his eyes evaporated—replaced by a cold, burning fire.
Blood dripped from his clenched fists.
His gaze rose to the sky—where Big Mom had disappeared.
“Mom... I’ll protect my family…”
His voice cut through the wind.
“But I’ll do it my way.”
Then—
BOOM!
A new explosion of power erupted from his body.
It wasn’t rage.
It wasn’t despair.
It was resolve.
A storm of Conqueror’s Haki burst from him, vaster and darker than before. The air split. Trees bent. Dust spiraled into tornados. His hair and cloak whipped violently behind him as the ground beneath cracked under the weight of his will.
Had Darren still been nearby, he would have felt it instantly—
Katakuri’s Conqueror’s Haki had surged past 50.
From the rubble, Katakuri rose slowly, Trident gripped tightly in one hand.
He turned away.
His silhouette—lone and steady—walked forward, straight into the horizon like a wolf cast out by the pack.
But in his eyes…
There was no more doubt.
Only purpose.
High above, Darren sliced through the clouds, the wind howling past him.
Once he’d confirmed the danger had passed, he finally allowed himself to slow, catching his breath.
A slow grin crept across his lips.
Totto Land had gone far better than expected.
Mission: complete.
Personal growth: off the charts.
Katakuri’s unintentional “mentorship” had pushed him past multiple limits.
His blood sang with newfound strength, every cell awake and singing.
But more importantly—
He’d planted a seed.
And someday, that seed would bloom.
To be continued...
Chapter 397: Chapter 40: This Is What a Renowned Sensei Is Like
Chapter Text
Darren wasn’t sure whether the seed he’d planted in Katakuri’s heart would truly take root and blossom.
But the idea alone was intoxicating.
Charlotte Katakuri—Big Mom’s most noble creation—never inspired hatred in Darren. If anything, he found the man fascinating.
A tragic figure, loyal to a tyrant. Bound by honor. Shackled by duty.
While Charlotte Linlin treated her children like disposable tools—demanding obedience, offering no affection, and crushing dissent with a manic smile—Katakuri had always stood apart.
He was... different.
Darren had seen it in their fight. That fierce loyalty. That burning desire to protect. The man wasn’t driven by greed or conquest—he fought for family.
Darren couldn’t help but wonder—
What would happen when those two paths diverged?
When the lines between “protecting his siblings” and “serving Big Mom” finally crossed?
Would Katakuri bury his rage and remain the ever-obedient son? Or would he turn away from the mother he once revered—and become something more?
The question consumed him.
But it wasn’t idle curiosity.
It was a test.
An experiment.
Darren’s little “lesson” had already pushed his Observation Haki to the edge of its current limits. Progress had slowed. The higher the level, the harder each step forward became.
And Katakuri, as he was now, simply wasn’t strong enough to push him any further.
He wasn’t yet the peak version of himself—the Vice-Captain who had once stood just beneath an Emperor. His strength hadn’t fully matured. His Haki hadn’t sharpened to its final edge.
To put it bluntly—
The “leek” wasn’t fat enough.
Not yet.
But Darren didn’t have years to wait.
So he planted a crack in Katakuri’s heart. Something subtle. Something painful. A splinter of doubt in his loyalty to Big Mom. The kind that might grow into rebellion.
And if that happened...
Katakuri would shed the chains of subservience. He’d evolve faster. Burn brighter.
Become a proper rival—and a worthy training partner.
That’s what’s really holding him back, Darren mused. It’s not his talent—it’s her.
Katakuri, King, Marco the Phoenix… all powerful. All capable.
But none of them truly broke through to Admiral level. Why?
Because they weren’t comrades. They were subordinates.
They lived under the shadows of their captains. Carried the burdens of their crews. And that burden stunted them.
Only the ones who stood as equals to their Captains ever reached the summit.
Beckman.
Rayleigh.
They didn’t bow.
They walked beside their captains.
In the pirate world, strength wasn’t just about training or bloodline—it was about will.
The moment you lowered your head, the moment you submitted, you stopped growing.
History was full of examples.
Gecko Moria, once a man who clashed with Kaido himself, crumbled after the loss of his crew. His will broke—and with it, his Haki. He regressed so far he could barely put up a fight against rookies.
Crocodile was the same. He once tore through the New World like a storm. Clashed with Bullet for days. But after his defeat at Whitebeard’s hands, he lost everything—ambition, pride, power.
It wasn’t until Impel Down—until he rekindled his will—that he surged again, fighting toe-to-toe with some of the strongest during the Summit War. Arguably, he became its true MVP.
Even Doflamingo, once dead set on becoming Pirate King, chose submission after seeing Kaido’s monstrous power. That choice—that fear—cost him the chance to go further.
Darren didn’t know what effect his words would ultimately have on Katakuri.
But he hoped—no, he wanted—that pain to evolve into something greater.
Because he still wasn’t done learning.
And if Katakuri ever broke free from Big Mom’s grip...
Now that would be interesting.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
Far above the ocean, Darren soared through the clouds, racing back toward Marineford. The winds howled past as he activated his Perception Talent and scanned his status:
Physique: 88.649 (Steel Body)
Strength: 78.513
Speed: 78.711
Devil Fruit Ability Development: 85.211 (Island-Covering)
Armament Haki: 59.035
Observation Haki: 72.117 (Magnetic Field Sensing)
Conqueror’s Haki: 60.000
Not bad at all.
His Physique, Strength, and Armament Haki had all crept up—small gains, but every inch mattered at his level. Katakuri’s punches hadn’t been wasted.
Speed had jumped by two points—unsurprising, considering how much time he’d spent dodging and dancing around in the air, refining his reflexes under pressure.
And finally—
Conqueror’s Haki.
Heh.
That number had finally cracked 60.
No set method existed for training Conqueror’s Haki. It wasn’t something you strengthened like muscles.
It was will.
A manifestation of spirit. A force of personality so intense it bent the world around you.
But Darren had noticed a pattern.
When you clashed with others who wielded it—true warriors—you sharpened one another.
Katakuri had pushed him.
Not just physically, but mentally. Philosophically. His existence had refined Darren’s own.
And then there was Observation Haki.
That, of course, had skyrocketed—from 47 to 72 in half a day.
Darren couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Forget the Training Camp...”
His grin widened.
“Queen and Katakuri are the real sensei!”
A joke, of course.
Without Zephyr’s training, he never would’ve had the foundation to grow like this. The sweat and suffering at the camp had paved every step forward.
Still—
This "Magnetic Field Sensing" ability was fascinating.
The idea of pushing past 80 in both Strength and Speed now felt within reach.
“Wano, huh...” Darren murmured, rubbing his chin as he darted between clouds.
Maybe it’s time for a scouting trip.
To be continued...
Chapter 398: Chapter 41: I’m in Wano Country
Chapter Text
Ever since Darren helped the Marines dismantle the Beast Pirates' headquarters, Kaido and what remained of his crew had vanished without a trace—swallowed by the vastness of the New World.
Their only public sightings had been few and fleeting: King the Wildfire’s appearance on Coin Island during the More-More Fruit incident, and Kaido’s temporary alliance with Golden Lion Shiki and Big Mom during the failed siege on Marineford.
In truth, after their victory over the Beast Pirates, Marine Headquarters had initially planned to strike while the iron was hot—to pursue Kaido and wipe out his remnants for good. But the plan was soon scrapped.
The New World was unstable. Intelligence on Kaido's whereabouts was sketchy at best. Without a reliable lead, any operation risked devolving into disaster.
But Darren knew better.
He wasn’t relying on reports.
He had the advantage of knowledge—narrative knowledge.
And based on everything he remembered, there was only one likely conclusion: Kaido had already invaded Wano Country.
With Kozuki Oden sailing abroad, joining up with Whitebeard’s crew and eventually Roger’s, Wano had been left defenseless. Kaido, ever the opportunist, would’ve seized the chance. Just like in the original story.
There, he had joined forces with Kurozumi Orochi, taken over the country’s government, and turned it into his personal fortress—a base from which to conquer the seas.
Initially, Darren had considered launching his blitz against Kaido.
But he chose Big Mom instead.
Part of it was strategy: he wasn’t entirely sure Kaido was already in Wano.
But the greater reason... was strength.
Kaido wasn’t alone. His top commander, King, possessed powerful aerial mobility. If Darren launched a high-speed raid and both King and Kaido joined the battle, even a successful hit-and-run would come at a steep price.
Totto Land was different.
Big Mom’s territory was massive, scattered across dozens of islands. As long as Darren avoided the heart of her empire—Cake Island—she couldn’t reach him in time.
Snack Island had been the perfect target.
And the result?
A flawless victory.
The live broadcast had spread across the world like wildfire. The mission had been a spectacular success—tactically, politically, and personally.
Now, Darren was free.
He no longer needed to worry about victory or reputation.
He could act on instinct.
And his instincts were pointing him to one place:
Wano.
Thanks to Katakuri’s ferocious “guidance,” Darren’s Observation Haki had undergone a dramatic transformation. His overall combat strength had risen sharply.
And now, even if Kaido and King both ambushed him, he was confident he could escape—especially if he kept his head and didn’t overcommit.
Besides, Kaido wasn’t yet at his peak.
Compared to that monstrous hag Big Mom, Kaido was still tame.
So what was there to hesitate about?
A grin spread across Darren’s face. Reckless, eager, hungry for more.
He shifted his stance atop Enma’s blade and twisted through the air, reversing direction with impossible speed.
Wano Country, here I come.
---
Marine Headquarters – Marineford
Fleet Admiral’s Office
“Moshi moshi—yes, King Knock. This is Sengoku.”
The voice of Admiral Sengoku flowed cheerfully through the Den Den Mushi. “On behalf of Marine Headquarters, thank you again for your nation's generous support of Marineford’s reconstruction.”
“Vice Admiral Darren? Ah yes, of course! I've had my eye on that young man since the very beginning—hahaha!”
With a few more formal pleasantries, the line clicked off.
Sengoku exhaled.
That was the thirteenth call today.
The royals of the World Government’s Member Nations hadn’t exactly opened their treasuries. Most “donations” hovered around thirty or forty million berries—small gestures, made to maintain appearances.
Still, Sengoku wasn’t complaining. Symbolic or not, every bit helped. Reconstruction required funds—lots of them.
In that sense, it was only proper for Marine Headquarters to call each contributor and offer formal thanks.
It should have been Fleet Admiral Kong’s responsibility.
But, in his usual fashion, Kong had rebranded the task as “mental discipline” and handed it off to Sengoku with a straight face.
Crunch, crunch…
The sound of chewing filled the office.
Sengoku’s eyelid twitched.
He turned to glare at the man slouched in the adjacent chair.
“Garp,” he snapped, “if you’re not going to help, at least stop eating my senbei!”
“Bwahahaha!” Garp chuckled shamelessly, spraying crumbs across the desk. “Old Man Kong said this was your training, didn’t he?”
Sengoku’s mouth twitched.
“Besides,” Garp added, reaching for another bag, “I’ve got an image to maintain. You, the proud Admiral, bowing and scraping for loose change from a bunch of fat nobles... tsk tsk tsk... disgraceful.”
SLAM!
Sengoku’s fist slammed into the desk.
“Bastard Garp! Get out!”
“Alright, alright! No need to lose your hair over it.” Garp stood, gathering three more bags of senbei on the way out.
Once the door slammed shut behind him, Sengoku sagged into his chair.
“Can’t be helped,” said a familiar voice.
Tsuru entered with a stack of files in hand. “This isn’t glorious work—but someone has to do it.”
Sengoku nodded. “The Marines aren’t just about fighting. These... gestures matter.”
He held up the donation list and sighed. “Individually, they’re nothing. But together... they fund a ship. A new base. A family pension.”
After a pause, he slapped his own cheeks lightly and picked up the next Den Den Mushi.
“Moshi moshi, King Raphael—this is Admiral Sengoku…”
Tsuru smiled faintly as she watched him.
The Marines needed warriors like Garp—heroes who took the front lines without hesitation.
But they also needed men like Sengoku.
Men willing to bear the weight behind the scenes.
---
Half an hour later, Sengoku finally hung up the last call and tossed the receiver aside with a groan.
“I swear, I’d rather fight Shiki again than listen to another one of those bloated royals ramble on…”
He leaned back, lit a cigar, and turned to Tsuru.
“Any word from Darren? He should’ve reported back by now.”
Tsuru glanced up from her paperwork, brows knitting slightly.
“Nothing.”
Sengoku frowned.
The live broadcast from Snack Island had cut off after the destruction of Swollen Town. Since then—radio silence.
A pit of unease coiled in his chest.
He reached for the military Den Den Mushi and dialed Darren’s personal line.
Purupuru... purupuru...
It rang.
And then—
Gacha.
“Admiral Sengoku.”
Darren’s voice came through, calm and steady.
Sengoku exhaled slowly. His tension eased—but only slightly.
“Where the hell are you?” he barked. “You were supposed to report back. Don’t tell me you’re sightseeing across the New World!”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, Sengoku stared as the Den Den Mushi shifted—its face morphing into Darren’s trademark arrogant grin.
“Admiral Sengoku,” Darren drawled, voice low and amused. “I’m in Wano Country.”
“Wha—WHAT?!”
Sengoku shot to his feet, his cigar tumbling to the floor.
To be continued...
Chapter 399: Chapter 42: Wano to Do When Bored
Chapter Text
Beside Sengoku, Tsuru stared incredulously at the Den Den Mushi, her sharp gaze locked onto the little creature's face.
"Young Darren... what are you doing in Wano Country?!"
Darren’s voice was calm—too calm. That easy, confident tone.
Sengoku felt a chill crawl up his spine.
He knew that tone all too well.
He'd heard it the night before Darren went toe-to-toe with Byrnndi World in the North Blue.
He'd heard it again during the Celestial Dragon murder investigation.
At the Elite Officer Training Camp graduation.
And just days ago—before the brazen assault on Totto Land.
Every single time, Darren spoke with this same glib, unbothered lilt.
Every single time, it meant disaster was looming.
And now, he'd waltzed into Wano Country?
Of all places?
Sengoku’s heart began to race. He didn’t need precognition to see it—the image of Snack Island’s Swollen Town being flattened in an instant flashed vividly in his mind.
Don’t tell me... this lunatic plans to do the same thing in Wano?!
"Admiral Sengoku," Darren said lightly, as though explaining an afternoon stroll, "I just wrapped up my mission and had a little time to kill. So, I figured... why not drop by Wano for a visit?"
His voice was casual, almost lazy.
Sengoku felt like vomiting blood.
Time to kill?! Why not just relax at Headquarters? Go to the red-light district! Watch some dancers! Why—of all damn places—did you pick the one country that could trigger a geopolitical meltdown?!
His face twisted with frustration.
"You reckless little brat!" Sengoku snapped. "Do you have any idea what kind of powder keg Wano Country is?!"
"It's a political nightmare! A nation run by sword-worshipping fanatics, crawling with entrenched samurai factions. The whole country’s allergic to outsiders!"
"If you clash with even one samurai clan, this won’t be some pirate-hunting skirmish. It’ll become an international incident!"
Wano’s policy of isolation had kept it cut off from the world for decades—but that hadn’t stopped the Marines from gathering intelligence.
The rumors about its warriors were more than enough.
They were fanatical, bound by honor, with no regard for their own lives.
Draw your sword, and they'd answer with blood.
Win, and they’d try to kill you anyway.
Lose, and they'd commit seppuku to preserve their name.
Even the World Government tread lightly around Wano. It wasn’t a matter of power—just a headache no one wanted.
The Marines weren’t afraid of samurai.
But dealing with them? That was another story entirely.
And if Darren kicked that hornet’s nest?
It would spiral far beyond anything Headquarters could spin.
"Darren!" Sengoku barked, slamming his hand on the desk. "Withdraw immediately! Before anyone spots you—before you so much as sneeze—get out of there!"
Darren, unfazed, replied with a chuckle. "Of course, Admiral Sengoku... but I think you’ll want to hear what I found first."
"I don’t care what you found! Just—"
"I’ve discovered a massive weapons manufacturing complex," Darren interrupted coolly. "Bigger than the Beast Pirates’ facility at their former stronghold."
Sengoku’s breath caught.
Across the room, Tsuru’s hand froze mid-page.
They exchanged a sharp glance.
That couldn’t be right.
The Beast Pirates’ production line had been enormous—enough to arm twice the number of active Marines around the world. The scale alone was terrifying.
But Wano?
An isolated, self-sufficient nation?
The samurai abhorred firearms. Their entire culture was rooted in swordsmanship. What could they possibly need with a massive industrial weapons factory?
"Are they preparing for war?" Sengoku murmured, a deep frown creasing his brow.
He straightened, voice firm. "Darren. Are you certain?"
"You know I don’t joke, Admiral Sengoku," Darren replied, his voice still maddeningly calm.
Sengoku’s teeth ground together.
"But," Darren added, with that smug grin Sengoku could practically hear, "if Headquarters isn't interested, I’ll just follow your orders and withdraw."
"..."
Sengoku clutched his chest.
Tsuru closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.
"Just... spit it out already, you brat!" Sengoku snapped.
---
Far above the clouds, Darren hovered silently over the mountainous Kuri Region of Wano Country.
Beneath him sprawled an industrial complex—an enormous web of structures woven through the mountains. Dozens of soot-black chimneys choked the skies with smoke. Steel, coal, fire—the lifeblood of a war machine.
From this vantage, it looked like a black sea rolling through the mountains.
Darren narrowed his eyes.
His lips curled into a faint smile.
"I see the Beast Pirates’ flag."
Silence.
Dead silence.
Then—
gacha.
Back in Marineford, the Military Den Den Mushi went quiet.
Sengoku and Tsuru stared at it.
"...Did he just—hang up on me?" Sengoku whispered, as if struggling to comprehend the act.
His eye twitched. Slowly, his face turned from white to purple.
"...That brat hung up on me!"
Tsuru, watching him carefully, coughed. "Could’ve been a bad connection."
She didn’t sound convinced.
To be continued...
Chapter 400: Chapter 43: Can't Even Talk About It?
Chapter Text
Sengoku fell silent.
Then, with a thunderous slam, he drove his fist into the table and shot to his feet, seething.
“That little brat Darren—who the hell does he think he is?!”
“I’m a Marine Headquarters Admiral—his direct superior! And he hangs up on my Den Den Mushi?!”
“In all my years, I’ve never been cut off by some upstart Vice Admiral!”
Standing nearby, Tsuru raised an eyebrow. “Garp does it to you all the time.”
Sengoku whirled on her, eyes burning with indignation. But Tsuru was already suppressing a smile, and that only made the heat in his chest spike even higher.
“Tsuru,” he said, wounded, “you’ve changed. You weren’t always like this.”
She merely pursed her lips, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across them.
She wasn’t truly old—perhaps not even forty—but years of shouldering the Marine’s endless internal headaches had etched their mark. Her once-dark hair now shimmered with streaks of silver, and fine lines framed her eyes, carved there by fatigue and time.
But instead of dulling her, age had tempered her beauty. Those silver threads, those softened edges—they gave her a quiet, enduring strength.
“Relax, Sengoku,” Tsuru said calmly. “Darren may be unruly, but he knows how to walk the line.”
“He’s not as reckless as he seems. Don’t forget how deftly he maneuvered through the chaos in the North Blue.”
Her voice, steady and measured, grounded Sengoku. His fury ebbed. He took a deep drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around him as he began to pace, arms folded, brow knotted in thought.
Then, abruptly, he stopped.
“Even so… I’m uneasy,” he muttered. “We should inform Fleet Admiral Kong.”
Tsuru nodded. If Darren was truly aiming to provoke a confrontation with Kaido in Wano, this wasn’t something two officers could handle alone. Reinforcements would need to be ready. Contingencies planned.
They moved swiftly to Kong’s office, waking the Fleet Admiral from rest with a terse report.
“What? Darren plans to attack the Beast Pirates in Wano Country?!” Kong jolted upright, sleep vanishing like mist. “Damn it, Sengoku! Why didn’t you stop him?!”
Caught off guard, Sengoku floundered for an excuse—but Tsuru’s subtle, sharp glance stopped him cold. Her eyes flicked a warning.
After a brief, stumbling pause, Sengoku straightened. His voice dropped an octave.
“Fleet Admiral Kong, just as you foresaw, I tried to talk him down.”
“But… the Den Den Mushi connection was unstable. The line cut out before I could finish.”
His face darkened with forced gravity, like the outcome had already slipped beyond his control.
And in that moment, the realization struck him.
Darren had done it on purpose—cut the call short to keep Sengoku removed from the fallout. If things went sideways, no one could say the Admiral had sanctioned it.
That little bastard... maybe he's not such a fool after all, Sengoku thought, almost admiringly.
Kong blinked, taken aback.
Before he could question it, Tsuru smoothly added, “Wano’s geography is notoriously unstable. The swirling currents and unique magnetic fields often disrupt long-distance communication.”
Kong let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. “Damn it… why now?”
He rose, shoulders squaring. “Then we prepare. Immediately. Full strategic readiness.”
“First: mobilize emergency support units. Second: prepare for diplomatic repercussions. If this escalates, we’ll be facing more than just Kaido.”
“Yes, Fleet Admiral!” Sengoku and Tsuru saluted in unison, crisp and unwavering.
---
Wano Country — Kuri Region
Inside a towering palace steeped in Wano’s ancient grandeur, the air crackled with tension.
King knelt on one knee before Kaido, his voice low and razor-sharp.
“Kaido-san, perimeter deployment is complete. All major ports are locked down. Elite forces are in place.”
Kaido grunted. The knots in his chest began to loosen.
This was his land—his cornerstone. Wano was the bedrock of his vision, the launchpad for a war that would reshape the world.
He knew brute strength wasn’t enough to rule the New World. No—what he needed was structure: fearsome lieutenants, an army, resources, and a fortress strong enough to weather the storm to come.
Charlotte Linlin had Totto Land. Whitebeard ruled with his fleet. Golden Lion once dominated the skies.
Kaido had only Wano.
And Wano… had to be unshakable.
“Are we taking this a bit too seriously?” Queen muttered, lips smacking as he sipped his red bean soup. “I mean, the Marines already know we’re here…”
Their constant paranoia—seeing enemies in every shadow—was starting to wear on him. How was he supposed to hold a proper dance party in this kind of atmosphere?
“Shut it.” King didn’t even look at him.
Queen scowled, wounded. “Can’t even speak my mind these days. I’ve been working nonstop to optimize the Military Factory’s output…”
He sighed. “It’s not like just talking about it will summon the Marines—”
BOOM!
The ground trembled violently. A distant roar ripped through the mountains, low and bone-deep, like a giant beast awakening in fury.
Kaido and King snapped to attention, their eyes narrowing.
That direction—
The factory.
The Military Factory in the Kuri Region.
A moment later, a Beast Pirates officer burst into the hall, breathless, knees hitting the floor with a smack.
His face was pale, voice shaking.
“That Marine… that Marine is here!!”
Kaido’s blood ran cold.
“What?!”
In an instant, Kaido and King turned, eyes blazing. Their murderous glares fell on Queen.
Queen froze, soup bowl still in hand, his mechanical arm instinctively shielding his mouth.
Kaido’s fury boiled over.
“That bastard Marine…!!”
He didn’t waste another breath.
With a thunderous roar, Kaido seized his massive kanabo and leapt into the sky. In a blink, his body expanded and twisted, scales erupting over his form as he transformed into a colossal, sky-darkening dragon.
The palace ceiling exploded as his massive body tore through it, ascending with a roar that shook the heavens.
“Darren!! You dare to set foot in my land?! You want to die that badly?!”
A tidal wave of Conqueror’s Haki surged into the sky, crackling with black and crimson lightning, warping the air itself.
Kaido’s golden eyes blazed with primal fury as the azure dragon bellowed into the storm-darkened skies above Wano.
To be continued...
Chapter 401: Chapter 44: How Did You Get So Strong?
Chapter Text
The ornate dome of the palace shattered like glass, exposing the storm-tossed sky above—a roiling mass of black clouds and blood-red lightning.
Chunks of stone and ceramic tile crashed to the ground. Cracks split the palace walls. A choking cloud of dust billowed through the hall.
Panic erupted among the Beast Pirates. Warriors scrambled for cover, shielding their heads from falling debris while struggling to withstand the suffocating pressure of Kaido’s unleashed Conqueror’s Haki.
“Prepare for battle!” King bellowed, swatting away a tumbling slab of stone with one kick. Behind him, black wings erupted, blazing with crimson flame. “Queen, evacuate the palace and secure the Armory!”
Queen, already trembling, staggered upright with a panicked nod. His layers of fat jiggled with the motion. “Y-yes! Right away!”
Without waiting for a reply, King shot upward in a flash of fire. His wings beat once—twice—and he soared into the sky, his form shifting mid-flight into a toothless, pitch-black Pteranodon.
He raced after the colossal azure dragon already ascending into the heavens.
Rumble...
Far across the mountainous Kuri Region, an enormous plume of smoke burst upward, twisting like a furious dragon clawing at the sky.
The earth itself groaned as cracks veined across the mountainside, deep and jagged.
The massive military factory—hidden within the mountain’s bones—was engulfed in a sea of fire.
Steel beams and furnaces buckled under some unseen force. Machinery collapsed like tin, and the infernos raged with a hungry roar, consuming everything.
Crimson flames licked the clouds. Towers of black smoke blotted out the stars.
Kaido hovered above the devastation, his dragon eyes wide with rage. Veins bulged in his temples. His breath hitched in fury.
Over half the Beast Pirates’ weapons production was centered here, in the Kuri Region. It had taken years to build—years of planning, smuggling, and sweat.
And in mere seconds… gone. Annihilated by one man.
“Damn it!!”
In his Blue Dragon form, Kaido’s pupils narrowed. His gaze locked onto a solitary figure standing amid the smoke.
“Darren!!”
His roar split the sky.
But the man below didn’t flinch. He simply looked up, smiled, and gave a casual wave, as if greeting a friend.
“Yo, Kaido. Took you long enough.”
He gestured toward the flaming wreckage behind him and tilted his head. “Impressive work. You rebuilt this whole production line pretty fast.”
Kaido’s roar caught in his throat.
What the hell does he mean, ‘Yo, took you long enough’?!
Since when are we on waving terms?!
Mockery burned deeper than any wound. Kaido’s fury reached a boiling point.
“YOU’RE DEAD!!”
His jaws stretched open, gathering gale-force winds into a swirling green vortex. In the next breath, he unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp wind blades.
“Bad Wind!”
The kamaitachi-like slashes roared through the sky, the air itself screaming as they tore forward, slicing through clouds and rock in a storm of destruction.
But just as they neared—
Violet sparks flickered deep in Darren’s eyes.
His form blurred, vanishing sideways with impossible speed. A trail of afterimages shimmered behind him like echoes.
The blades missed. Every last one.
The mountains behind Darren exploded into a mess of intersecting scars where the wind blades struck, carving through stone as if it were paper.
Kaido’s pupils constricted.
That speed… it’s not the same as Marineford. He’s faster. Much faster.
But it wasn’t just speed.
His presence was different. Sharper. Deeper.
Kaido’s scowl deepened.
“Your Observation Haki… How did it become this strong?!”
Darren grinned. “Beats me.”
With a flick of his thumb, a silver coin flipped into the air, spinning endlessly between them. Its surface caught the light—two reflections: Kaido’s fury and Darren’s calm.
“Magnetic Overload: Railgun.”
Snap.
BOOM!!
A beam of brilliant blue-white energy erupted from Darren’s hand. It screamed through the sky, sending concentric shockwaves tearing outward as it barreled toward the massive dragon.
The Railgun—a weapon too dangerous to use at Marineford, lest it harm his own allies—was now fully unleashed.
Against a behemoth like Kaido, it was the perfect tool.
Kaido’s eyes widened.
“Damn you, Big Mom! What did you do to him?!”
He roared and countered, unleashing a searing blast of fire from his mouth.
“Flame Breath!”
The two forces collided mid-air.
Blue-white energy clashed against crimson flame. The heavens lit up with a blinding, chaotic explosion.
For an instant, all of Wano fell silent.
Then came the sound.
A deafening roar. A shockwave that shattered clouds and split the air. The very sky trembled.
Through the smoke, Kaido’s titanic form reeled.
The once-dominant silhouette shrank visibly, losing altitude.
And then—he fell.
His massive body plummeted from the heavens, hair and scales whipping violently in the wind, his face twisted in disbelief.
This can’t be real...
Darren’s Observation Haki during Marineford had been far from overwhelming. Kaido had seen it himself. Even just hours ago, watching the battle with Charlotte Oven via Visual Den Den Mushi, Darren’s Haki hadn’t been anything like this.
And now… it was like facing a different man.
It’s impossible.
Unless...
Unless that lunatic Big Mom taught him directly.
Cold sweat prickled along Kaido’s neck.
Had they struck a deal behind his back?
Had Big Mom leaked intel on Wano to Darren?
Was this whole invasion part of her plan to cut him down?!
The deeper he fell into suspicion, the darker his rage became.
But there was no hesitation in his response.
He roared, snatching his massive black kanabo from the air and lunging like a bolt of lightning.
A demon of scale and fury.
Thunder cracked around him. Violet lightning danced across the weapon’s surface like serpents of light.
The distance between them vanished in a flash.
“Thunder Bagua!!”
To be continued...
Chapter 402: Chapter 45: Fist Bone
Chapter Text
A strike, swift as lightning—impossible to dodge, impossible to ignore.
Darren’s eyes flew open. From their depths, twin flares of violet sparked to life.
He’d seen Kaido swing that monstrous club before, more times than he could count. But this—this was something else entirely. A pressure so vast, so raw, it felt like the sky itself might split in two.
Too fast.
The attack tore through the air like a thunderbolt, a straight line of pure devastation.
Even with his Magnet-Magnet Fruit–amplified Observation Haki, honed razor-sharp through recent battles, Darren could barely glimpse it. Just a blur—a streak of annihilation.
The club moved like a god’s wrath unleashed. It wasn’t Kaido dragging the weapon forward; it was as if the club itself was dragging him.
Darren’s mind flashed to Katakuri—his Observation Haki, the future-sight that had once overwhelmed him. But even Katakuri couldn’t dodge this.
It didn’t matter how far ahead you could see—when your opponent's speed shattered the limit of your body’s response, prediction was meaningless.
Every outcome, every possibility that Darren could glimpse in the sea of future visions led to the same ending:
Destruction.
And still, he grinned.
“Not bad,” he muttered. “Too bad I’m not planning to dodge.”
Shhhh!
Jet-black Armament Haki surged down his arm, so dense it steamed on contact with the air, wreathed in white smoke.
He hadn’t come to Wano to hide. This wasn’t a spar. This was war.
This was Kaido.
The wind roared, pulling his hair back as his spirit surged. For a single breath, all of Darren’s power—his instincts, his will, his soul—aligned into perfect, blazing focus.
Young Darren, Garp’s gruff voice echoed in his mind, strength is unity. Once you throw a punch, your heart must be clear—no hesitation.
This is a fist born of will!
The memory struck deep. His breath stilled. His heartbeat slowed.
The chaos faded.
No more lightning. No more mountains or crashing tides. Even Kaido’s spiked club, poised inches from his face, vanished into silence.
Only warmth remained. The sun on his skin. The taste of salt in the air. The memory of sand beneath his feet as he trained with bloodied knuckles, punching again and again beneath the sky.
Marineford. The battered battleship. That crumbling port where it all began.
His body moved before thought returned. Calm. Absolute.
Heart, technique, and body—unified.
Armament Haki: 0.893.
He'd broken the 60-point threshold.
Streams of black Haki spiraled around his arm like molten metal, distorting the very air. The weight of his will condensed into one blazing point.
Darren’s eyes lit with feral joy.
“I get it now!”
And he punched.
A thunderclap erupted from his fist, not just noise but intent made real—raw and absolute.
His fist met Kaido’s Thunder Bagua head-on.
“Fist Bone: Flash Strike!!”
BOOM!!
Fist and club collided in a god-shattering crash. The impact was so immense it tore through the clouds and shook the heavens.
A shockwave exploded outward, blasting the air apart and cracking the ground far below. Mountains trembled. Forests swayed. Entire sections of Wano cracked and heaved under the force.
From their clash erupted twin storms—Kaido’s scarlet aura and Darren’s piercing blue—each trying to consume the other.
In the sky, King halted mid-flight, still in his Pteranodon form. His eyes widened, frozen in disbelief.
He blocked it.
He actually blocked Big Brother Kaido’s Thunder Bagua... head-on?!
King couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He remembered Darren’s duel on Coin Island—how he’d barely held his own against Golden Lion, relying on luck, Devil Fruit trickery, and an unnatural physique.
Back then, it had taken everything Darren had just to survive.
Now—just weeks later—he had stood his ground against Kaido.
How?!
King had surpassed most of the world’s warriors himself. But this Marine had already climbed beyond him. In a single month?!
His disbelief turned to unease.
Just what happened to this guy?
Could the Marine training camps really turn someone into... this?
“This is impossible!!!” Kaido bellowed, his eyes wide with fury.
He was shaking. Not from exhaustion—but from something worse.
Fear.
The boy he could have crushed in one swing not long ago now stood just shy of the summit. A step away from legendary power.
Darren’s knuckles bled. His lip split. But he laughed through the pain, teeth flashing red with blood.
Almost there.
He had blocked Kaido’s strike with pure force—but his body screamed in protest. The sheer weight of Kaido’s Haki still dwarfed his own.
But even now, he didn’t retreat.
He stepped forward.
Armament Haki above 60...
Strength and Speed at 80...
Just a little more.
He wiped the blood from his lip, chuckling. “All thanks to my great mentor... Sensei Queen.”
“If he hadn’t pumped me full of those freak-show viruses, I’d never have hit this level so fast.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Kaido and King turned sharply.
Their eyes burned with realization.
Of course!
Queen’s prison—where Darren had been held.
That was the turning point. Not the battlefield. Not the training.
The lab.
Kaido and King stared down toward the smoldering mountain.
There, among the flames and chaos, a towering brachiosaurus whipped its head around in alarm.
Queen, overseeing the retreat, suddenly felt his entire body go cold.
He turned—and locked eyes with two gazes filled with pure, unfiltered murder.
“W-wait! I didn’t do anything!” he shrieked, his voice shrill. “Don’t drag me into this! I had nothing to do with it!”
To be continued...
Chapter 403: Chapter 46: Come On, Kaido-sensei
Chapter Text
Queen’s face turned beet red, bloated with righteous fury.
I didn’t do anything wrong! he fumed. I was just following orders—Boss Kaido’s orders! I even used our newest, most vicious virus strains on those brats in prison. Who the hell could’ve guessed they'd make the Marine stronger?!
“I’ll deal with you later!” Kaido roared, glaring at him with murderous heat.
His body surged and warped, rising over a meter in height. Sharp, curved dragon horns erupted from his skull, spiraling skyward. Azure scales crawled across his skin like living armor. A long, muscular tail snapped into place behind him.
Dragon-Human Form.
A monstrous bloodlust burst forth from Kaido’s transformed body—raw and violent, like a battlefield soaked in centuries of slaughter. He gripped his spiked club tighter, the weapon groaning under the strain of his fury.
Muscles bulged. Veins throbbed like writhing serpents beneath his scaled skin.
Darren's expression sharpened. The pressure behind the club—Kaido’s signature Eight Precepts—had just doubled. It pressed against him like a mountain tipping forward, ready to fall.
“Don’t get cocky, brat!” Kaido growled, teeth clenched.
Zzzzzzz...
Conqueror’s Haki exploded from him in violent arcs, wrapping around the club in a storm of black-red lightning.
BOOM!!
The next blow detonated like a thunderclap. The shockwave rippled across the battlefield, blinding white and deafening.
Darren didn’t have time to dodge.
He was launched like a cannonball, crashing into the rocky valley below. Earth cracked and cratered. A kilometer-wide depression collapsed inward, smoke and debris belching into the air.
Then Kaido descended.
He hit the ground like a falling star, the impact collapsing the crater even deeper. Dust choked the air. His breath came out in visible white puffs as he strode forward, each footstep shaking the mountain.
"I don’t care how strong you’ve become..."
His voice rumbled like a storm.
"...but if you think that means you can tear through my territory unchecked, you’re dead wrong."
Kaido’s eyes burned crimson, wild and untamed. Black-red lightning sparked and snapped around him, shattering the clouds overhead. His presence bent the very air.
“Observation Haki?” he bellowed. “That’s basic! You want to survive in this sea? You need a body forged in fire, brute strength beyond reason, and Haki that breaks mountains!”
From within the smoke, a foot stomped forward.
Darren emerged slowly, his face streaked with blood, but grinning like a madman.
And then—he laughed.
A deep, manic laugh, not born of arrogance... but hunger.
Bang!
He launched himself from the crater like a missile, charging headlong toward Kaido.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t hold back.
“I know what it takes!” Darren roared. “You think I came to Wano for a damn vacation?!”
Despite the pain gnawing at his body, he was intoxicated by it—by the risk, the adrenaline, the thrill of dancing at death’s doorstep.
And in the aftermath of Kaido’s strike, something else stirred inside him.
Physique: 0.121
Strength: 0.183
Speed: 0.168
Armament Haki: 0.629...
It worked.
He could feel it—his body, pushed to its limits, evolving. Training had long stopped yielding results. Even Queen’s torture cocktails would’ve only boosted him marginally, and only once.
But this—this was real.
I've finally found a training method that works.
No. More than that.
I’ve found a real teacher.
The progress was slow—measured in fractions of a point—but steady. And honest.
This wasn’t some protagonist cheat. It was earned with blood and grit.
Come on, Kaido-sensei...
Even if every bone in his body shattered—even if he lost every tooth in his skull—he wouldn’t stop this lesson early.
He surged forward, blood roaring in his ears. His fingers stretched wide, then folded inward, snapping into that familiar, deadly shape.
Dragon Claw Fist.
Three fingers curled, two braced—sharp, precise, brutal.
Dragon's Claw!
The air hissed behind him as the technique tore forward, its blackened trail distorting space itself.
Kaido’s eyes twitched—taken aback by Darren’s fearlessness.
He swung the club upward in defense, sparks flying as metal met force.
CLANG!
Shockwaves rippled out from the clash.
“Come on, Kaido!” Darren snarled, face gleaming with blood and madness. “Got the guts to kill me, or not?!”
Kaido’s pupils constricted.
“YOU'RE ASKING FOR DEATH!!”
The full weight of his Mythical Zoan strength surged through him. The air twisted. Lightning coiled. His muscles tightened like drawn cables.
Thunder roared.
Roaring Thunder Eight Trigrams.
A full-power strike—infused with Conqueror’s Haki.
The sky cracked as the black-red Haki swallowed the space between them. Even the landscape began to warp.
Darren’s breath caught—just for a second.
This pressure... it was unlike anything he’d faced before.
But he didn’t blink.
He pushed through it, released his own storm of Conqueror’s Haki, and met the blow with everything he had.
Fist Bone!
He hurled his fist forward—straight into death’s mouth.
BOOOOOOM!!
The resulting explosion wasn’t a sound—it was a command. Everything shook. Mountains swayed. Thunder screamed from above.
Cloak and hair whipped in opposite directions as the shockwave burst through them.
The earth shattered.
A gaping trench tore open beneath them—miles long, black as the void. The air filled with dust, flame, and flying debris.
Kaido snarled and swung again.
CRACK!
Darren’s Armament Haki shattered under the blow. Blood exploded from his forearms. His body was hurled back like a ragdoll, slamming into a distant mountainside.
BOOM!!
Stone fractured. Peaks trembled. Debris cascaded down in a deafening landslide.
Far off, Queen’s eye twitched. He watched in disbelief.
“Boss Kaido’s gone totally berserk…”
He glanced around.
“Which means I’m probably safe now.”
Reverting to his human form, Queen lit a cigar with a smug smirk and barked orders to his shaken subordinates.
“Alright, put out those fires already! What are you, tourists?! Move!”
He blew a puff of smoke. “Even a dinosaur like me would be flattened by that strike. Heh... those Marines are—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
His mouth hung open. The cigar drooped, forgotten.
A figure burst from the crushed mountainside, bathed in blood and fury.
Still moving.
Still grinning.
Still coming.
Charging at Kaido like he hadn’t just tasted death.
Queen’s jaw dropped.
“What the hell... is going on?!”
To be continued...
Chapter 404: Chapter 47: So This Is How It Feels
Chapter Text
“What the hell is going on?!”
“Is that Marine trying to die?!”
Queen’s eyes bulged so wide they nearly fell out of his skull. He didn’t even notice the cigar singeing his lip—his gaze was locked, horrified, on the figure of Vice Admiral Darren, charging back toward Kaido like nothing had happened.
Not far off, King stood frozen mid-air, his eyes equally wide with disbelief.
Part of him respected the Marine’s resilience—his defiance, his monstrous endurance. But the rest of him… couldn’t make sense of it.
The battle should’ve been over.
Darren had already destroyed most of the Kuri Region’s armories—his mission was complete. Retreat would’ve been the logical, strategic move. Any further fighting against Kaido was not only reckless—it was suicidal.
Staying here meant risking his life. Worse, it meant getting trapped in Wano.
So why?
Why was he still fighting?
King’s eyes narrowed. Suspicion churned in his gut.
Does he have a trump card? Some hidden ace?
Or… does he really think he can beat Kaido?!
His instincts screamed that something was wrong. He’d fought this man before—had witnessed firsthand the cunning and deceit that defined Darren’s every move.
If Darren was still here, still throwing himself into Kaido’s blows, then he had to be playing some long game.
And then—
BOOM!!
Another clash.
Darren’s blood-soaked arm, wrapped in Armament Haki, collided with Kaido’s monstrous club. The shockwave blew their hair back, the sky trembling from the impact.
“Wororororo! You’ve lost it, Marine brat!” Kaido bellowed, laughing like a mad beast. His tail lashed behind him, stirring a storm. “No matter how many times you come back—I’ll break you every single time!”
“Not so fast,” Darren replied, lips twisted into a savage grin. Blood ran down his chin, but he didn’t care.
His mind wasn’t on pain. It was on the Panel.
Physique: 0.396
Strength: 0.163
Speed: 0.145
Armament Haki: 0.732
Conqueror’s Haki: 1.512...
Closer. Every strike, every bone-breaking blow—he was getting closer.
His eyes burned with starlight, bright and focused. His entire body screamed in agony—fractured arms, cracked ribs, lungs raw with fire—but he felt it.
The growth.
Minute. Invisible. But real.
He could feel himself drawing closer to that realm—the one reserved for monsters. The level where the true legends lived.
And he welcomed the pain.
His grin widened, blood staining his teeth.
“You reckless fool!!” Kaido’s voice thundered.
His club, wrapped in Conqueror’s Haki, crashed down with the force of a collapsing world.
BANG!
The blow struck Darren full-force in the head. Blood exploded from his face. A tooth spiraled away in the air.
And again, he was flung like a missile, carving a trench through the battlefield that stretched for hundreds of meters, smoke and dust rising in his wake.
Before the dust had even begun to settle, Darren came charging back.
“HAHAHAHAHA!! Not enough!! You think that was enough?!”
His voice rang across the mountains, crazed and joyful.
Kaido’s eyes flared. “You want death? I’ll give it to you!!”
Black-red lightning crackled like thunder around his club as he raised it again.
Roaring Thunder Eight Trigrams!!
BOOM!!
The strike hit like divine judgment, hurtling Darren into the distant mountains with such power that the entire range trembled.
The shockwave spread like an earthquake, shaking Kuri to its roots.
“That… that has to be it,” Queen whispered, his voice barely audible.
He stared at the smoking ruins of the mountain.
No one could survive that.
Not even him.
Not even Kaido's own All-Stars.
And then—
A shadow moved in the dust.
A figure rose.
Wobbling. Blood-drenched. But alive.
Queen felt his breath catch in his throat.
“That… that’s not a person anymore,” he stammered. “That can’t be human! Even awakened Zoans can’t...”
He stopped.
And stepped back.
Slowly.
Then gasped, his eyes widening in horror.
“Unless...”
A hand slammed over his mouth.
“Shut it,” King hissed, his teeth clenched. His eye twitched violently.
Queen flailed, muffled protests spilling out as he pointed at the battlefield.
The figure emerged.
Darren’s voice echoed across the broken landscape—deep, low, and grimly amused.
“I never thought… I’d be the one to break through.”
A blood-soaked boot touched ground.
BOOM!!
The ground cracked beneath his step, a shockwave shaking the nearby cliffs as if a giant had landed.
Dust spiraled skyward.
The Marine Vice Admiral stepped into view.
His body was ravaged—uniform torn, skin lacerated and swollen—but his eyes...
They burned.
Still burning.
Kaido narrowed his gaze.
He felt it then—a strange resonance.
Like looking into a mirror.
A twisted kinship.
That flicker of recognition sent a chill down his spine.
No more hesitation.
Kaido struck.
Swish!
His club tore through the air, launching a compressed wave of Conqueror’s Haki.
Whistling Arrow.
It wasn’t just brute force—it was refined, focused, deadly. A technique rivaling the sword auras of the greatest swordsmen.
But Darren didn’t block.
He didn’t dodge.
He ran straight into it.
Under the stunned eyes of Queen, King, and even Kaido—
He took it head-on.
BOOM!!
The impact roared across the battlefield. Light and force exploded outward in a ring of destruction, wind howling as the shockwave blew apart the dust.
But when it cleared—
Darren stood.
He wiped blood from his lip and tilted his head, smirking.
“Almost worked.”
Unscathed.
Queen choked on his breath.
King’s eyes dilated.
Kaido froze.
A shimmering sheen pulsed faintly over Darren’s skin—like liquid light.
They knew what it was.
They all did.
Darren flexed, joints cracking.
His fists clenched, cracking the air around them.
His eyes gleamed with something near madness.
“So this is how it feels...”
Physique: 90 — Indestructible Body.
To be continued...
Chapter 405: Chapter 48: Indestructible Body
Chapter Text
“Absolutely incredible…”
Darren grinned savagely as he tore off the remnants of his shredded uniform, revealing a blood-soaked torso sculpted by years of brutal combat.
His skin, slashed and burned, glistened beneath the gore with a strange, metallic sheen—cold, hardened, and inhuman. A body reforged in war.
And yet, despite the carnage, he stood tall, radiating a quiet, almost arrogant confidence.
He could feel it.
Something inside him had changed.
It wasn’t just numbers. It wasn’t just progress.
It was evolution.
The moment his Physique stat crossed 90, something had snapped into place. His endurance, already monstrous, had surged to an entirely new level.
Indestructible Body.
The stuff of myth.
A body immune to Sea Stone restraints. A body that could withstand blades, axes, lightning, venom, frost, and fire. A body that could endure tortures designed to break men—not through willpower, but sheer, physical impossibility.
An unkillable machine of flesh and will.
Darren hadn’t expected this. Not when his focus had been almost entirely on Haki and raw power.
And yet, it was his long-stagnant physique that had broken through first.
“Well... this is a pleasant surprise.”
His gaze drifted lazily toward Queen in the distance.
The moment their eyes met, Queen’s face drained of all color. His bloated cheeks quivered, his lips trembling in horror.
“W-why are you looking at me like that?!” he shrieked.
“Why are you smiling at me?!”
Kaido and King’s murderous gazes snapped toward him.
Queen felt the noose tightening.
“This has nothing to do with me!” he yelped, leaping forward in desperation.
One massive mechanical arm raised—charged with light.
A blinding beam fired from his palm.
“Blackfire Light!”
The golden laser tore through the air, ripping a black gash through the clouds.
Deep in Darren’s eyes, violet lightning flickered. His Observation Haki had already mapped the beam’s path.
He could have dodged it.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he reached out—and caught it.
BOOM!!
The explosion lit up the sky. A hundred-meter radius was reduced to a scorched wasteland. Black smoke mushroomed upward, and searing heat rolled across the battlefield.
Queen shielded his eyes.
“D... did that work?”
Beside him, King didn’t speak. His mask offered no comfort—only cold calculation.
Then—
A voice echoed through the flames.
Rough. Calm. Almost amused.
“Almost.”
Darren stepped forward through the fire, his arm still smoldering.
He looked like a demon birthed from the inferno—smoke curling off his skin, blood and flame clinging to his body like armor.
“No matter how far technology advances…” he muttered, inspecting his scorched hand, “…it’s still a cheap imitation.”
He looked up, eyes gleaming.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Fatty. Compared to Borsalino’s lasers, yours feel like a flashlight.”
Truthfully, if Kizaru had been the one behind that beam—if it had been at full power—it might have done real damage. Even with his newfound resilience.
But this? It was nothing.
Darren clenched his fist, smothering the last flickers of flame.
This Indestructible Body wasn’t invincible. Attacks without Haki were useless—but even with Haki, it depended on the user’s level. Unless they possessed Ryuo, internal destruction, they’d barely leave a scratch.
But therein lay the danger.
Because with power like this… came arrogance.
He hadn’t needed to take Queen’s beam head-on.
His Observation Haki had easily shown him its path.
But still—he hadn’t dodged.
Why bother?
Good thing I fought Katakuri first... Darren thought grimly. Otherwise, I might’ve stopped training Observation entirely.
He checked his stats:
Physique: 90.001 (Indestructible Body)
Almost there...
He narrowed his eyes.
And then—
A deep, rumbling voice echoed across the battlefield.
“I never imagined you’d actually reach this level.”
Darren turned.
Kaido was no longer laughing.
His aura had quieted. Not softened—deepened.
“In all these years,” Kaido said slowly, “no one has ever refined their body to rival mine.”
A vortex of raw will began to churn around him.
A storm of primal power.
Kaido lifted his head, eyes gleaming blood-red.
And then—
He grinned.
“Wororororo... Darren, you little brat…”
“You’ve finally earned it.”
He slammed his kanabo into the ground.
“Come face me like a warrior!”
BOOOOM!!
A surge of Conqueror’s Haki exploded from his body, black and crimson lightning lashing out in all directions. The clouds above Wano split and scattered like fragile glass.
The air itself turned heavy. Warped.
Kaido stood in the eye of the storm, the very sky twisting above him, his figure cast in flickering shadows like a demon carved from thunder.
“Come, brat!”
“COME GET SOME!!”
Darren’s breath caught.
His aura… it’s different now.
Crack... BOOM!!
The ground shattered beneath Kaido’s feet as he vanished from sight.
And in the next instant—
He was above Darren.
His club raised high, gripped with both hands.
Lightning coiled like dragons around the weapon—tens of thousands of crimson and purple bolts screaming across the sky.
“DIE!!”
Kaido roared, and the heavens seemed to tear.
Conquerer of Three Worlds: Ragnaraku!
A divine blow.
The wrath of a god made flesh.
Reality itself buckled under the swing. The air fractured, twisting into jagged, glass-like shards. Time felt slower. The world narrowed into one single, impossible moment.
And all Darren could do was stare into that descending void—
And feel it.
The sensation of death, curling over his skin like frost.
To be continued...
Chapter 406: Chapter 49: The Madman Who Likes Getting Beaten Up
Chapter Text
The storm above didn’t just howl—it crushed.
It twisted into a tangible pressure, a suffocating weight that fell from the sky even before Kaido’s kanabo made contact.
Lightning screamed through the heavens. The ground beneath Darren’s feet shattered. Stone turned to gravel, dirt exploded into dust. A thousand tons of force pressed down from above.
Kaido’s strikes might’ve seemed simple—just swings of a club—but Darren had learned. There was nothing simple about them.
Each one was devastation in motion. And this one—
Trisamsara: Guide to Naraka.
A technique of overwhelming brutality, forged in the image of the Four Great Vidyarajas—a strike meant not just to crush the body, but the spirit.
“Hahahaha! This is what I came for!” Darren roared, eyes wild with bloodlust. “This is the slaughter I live for!”
He planted his feet into the earth like anchors. No retreat. No defense.
Just the Iron Fist of Garp, raised to meet a god’s wrath.
Fist Bone: Indestructible.
His body locked into place—muscle, mind, and spirit converging.
A cold light pulsed across his arm. Armament Haki, dense and sharp, fused with flesh and blood. The impact zone glowed with a killing calm.
And then—
CLASH!!
For a moment, the world fell utterly silent.
Darren’s knees buckled. His heels sank deep into the cracked earth. A corona of shattered stone exploded outward like a reverse volcano.
BOOOOOOM!!
The heavens detonated.
A blast wave screamed in every direction, carving canyons and upheaving the terrain for miles. Mud, rock, and ruin tore through the sky.
Even the outer seas of Wano surged with unnatural waves as the impact rippled across the region.
Above, the clouds split. The sky flickered. For one terrifying instant, it seemed like day and night were fighting for control of the heavens.
“RAAAAAHHHHH!!!”
Two voices—Kaido’s and Darren’s—twisted together in a blood-red roar that tore through the mountains.
Kaido leaned in, pressing down with both hands, his club grinding against Darren’s Iron Fist. Crimson eyes glared inches from his opponent’s, pupils wild with rage and disbelief.
“Darren, you little bastard...”
“I’ll admit it—your strength is now equal to mine!”
Lightning flashed across his dragon-scarred face, contorted in berserk glee.
“But...”
Kaido’s teeth gleamed in the dark, jagged and cruel.
“Haki reigns above all!”
He roared—and the skies answered.
Every muscle in his monstrous form clenched as he triggered a full-body Haki eruption.
Second-Stage Haki Burst!
BOOM!!!
The ground beneath Darren disintegrated.
The shockwave drove him downward like a meteor falling to earth. The surrounding land dropped by meters, caving into itself. Craters spiderwebbed outward, stretching past the horizon.
King and Queen, still watching from afar, instinctively raised their arms against the oncoming blast.
A howl of wind and dust slammed into them. Even at that distance, the air felt like a collapsing wall.
Queen’s voice trembled. “He has to go down after that, right?”
King said nothing.
But a second later, Queen tried to speak again—
And King slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes blazing.
“One more word like that, and I’ll end you myself.”
Queen’s pupils quivered behind the hand, fat cheeks puffing with fear and frustration.
But before either of them could react—
The earth burst.
A blood-drenched figure exploded from the crater, laughing like a lunatic.
Black hair clung to his face. Mud and blood streamed from his wounds.
But his grin... it shined.
“Haha! That’s it!! Again!!”
King: ...
Queen: ...
BOOM!!
They clashed again.
Club to fist. Storm to storm.
“You’re weak!” Kaido snarled. “Speed, strength, Haki—you’re lacking everything!”
“You’ll never defeat me!!”
Lightning crackled as Kaido rained down blows faster than the eye could track.
Each one a cannon. A hurricane. A planet-killer.
Darren was engulfed in kanabo shadows, every escape sealed by sheer force alone.
“Kundali: Dragon’s Ascending Army!!”
Each blow landed like the fist of a wrathful god.
Conqueror’s Haki infused every strike. The earth cracked beneath each impact. The air twisted and howled.
Darren’s body blurred, blood flying in every direction.
He staggered.
Step by step.
Blocked. Retreated. Blocked again.
He couldn’t match Kaido’s overwhelming tempo.
But he didn’t fall.
His Indestructible Body—the body that now rivaled Kaido’s—refused to give in.
He could be beaten. Bloodied. Broken.
But not broken enough.
This was a clash between beasts.
Between kings.
Those born with bodies that defied human limits—capable of fighting not for minutes, but for days.
Darren wasn’t quite there yet.
But he was close.
Close enough to endure.
Bang!
Another impact sent him flying—skidding across the ruined land, carving a trench deep into the broken earth.
His boots finally gave out—torn to shreds.
But he didn’t stop.
He dug his bare feet into the ground, stood tall, and screamed back into the storm.
“That’s why I challenged you!!”
Another clash. Blasted back.
Another. Again!
Again!
Darren had become a creature of instinct—pure, relentless defiance.
He no longer needed reason or logic.
Only resistance.
Over and over, he launched himself at the strongest creature on land, sea, and air.
His blood soaked the earth.
His laughter filled the sky.
And slowly—ever so slowly—Kaido’s rage gave way to something else.
Bewilderment.
Because despite his every blow landing true—
Despite all the blood and broken bones—
That Marine brat kept smiling.
Not just smiling.
Laughing.
Like the pain itself was fuel.
Kaido stared at the blood-drenched figure still rising, his brows furrowing.
He’d fought gods. Legends. Admirals.
But he’d never seen a madman like this.
And for the first time...
A chill traced its way down his spine.
To be continued...
Chapter 407: Chapter 50: The Strongest Sensei on Land, Sea, and Air
Chapter Text
Does this brat… actually enjoy getting beat up?
The thought struck Kaido like a cold slap to the face, sending a chill down his spine.
No... something’s seriously wrong here.
Because even as Darren's body broke under the weight of Kaido’s fury—even as blood poured from his mouth and every bone screamed in protest—he kept coming.
Again. And again. And again.
Kaido snarled.
“Out of my way!!”
Muscles bulged beneath scaled flesh as he tapped into the full might of his Dragon-Human Form. Violet-black lightning exploded outward from his body, swirling like a storm.
His kanabo, Eight Precepts, pulsed at the center of the electrical maelstrom.
He took a single step—just one—and the ground shattered beneath him.
“Thunder Bellow Bagua!!”
He vanished.
A blur of destruction.
The next instant, he streaked past Darren in a flash of purple-black lightning, the very air tearing in his wake.
BOOOOM!!
Behind Darren, the compressed lightning detonated with the fury of a small sun. A blinding explosion engulfed the battlefield, surging skyward in a churning mushroom cloud.
The world held its breath.
Then came the aftershock.
A second, larger blast of Conqueror’s Haki burst outward, shaking the heavens.
Darren’s body flew like a broken arrow, smashing through a dozen peaks before slamming into a mountainside with bone-cracking force. Rock split. Earth groaned.
The Kuri Region shook as if the island itself had cried out.
The skies above tore open with roaring wind.
Queen stood frozen, face ghostly pale. He opened his mouth—then promptly shut it and clamped both hands over it.
Even he wasn’t dumb enough to speak now.
Beside him, King stood motionless, his eyes locked on the mountains.
Kaido landed hard, panting, blood trickling from his lip. He gripped his club, his gaze fixed on the cratered mountainside.
One second.
Two.
Three...
Finally, the wind died, and the dust cleared.
A jagged crater scarred the mountain, its walls splattered with blood.
And there—half-buried, ribs crushed and jutting grotesquely from his side—lay Darren.
Barely breathing.
Barely alive.
His face was pale as death. Blood poured from his mouth. He shouldn’t have been conscious.
But his eyes...
His eyes were still locked on Kaido.
And then—he laughed.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!! WHAT A RUSH!!!”
Queen and King looked at each other, their expressions blank with disbelief.
“This… this can’t be real,” Queen whispered. “He’s… he’s getting stronger?!”
Observation Haki didn’t lie.
That near-dead Marine brat’s aura—his power—was surging upward.
Despite his crushed body. Despite the blood. Despite the pain.
He was... growing stronger.
Kaido’s jaw clenched. “You... you’ve gotten stronger?!”
Darren coughed up more blood, then let out a wheezing laugh.
“Well then…” he rasped. “Let’s call it a day’s training.”
He reached down without hesitation—and shoved the snapped rib back into place with a sickening crack.
Queen flinched.
Even King winced.
Darren swayed, then wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a lunatic.
“What a productive lesson,” he said, eyes gleaming.
Then—
His panel updated:
Physique: 90.001 (Indestructible Body)
Strength: 80.991 (Giant’s Strength)
Speed: 80.917 (Soru’s Divine Speed)
Devil Fruit Ability: 85.445 (Island-Covering)
Armament Haki: 65.315
Observation Haki: 72.887 (Magnetic Field Sensing)
Conqueror’s Haki: 63.091
He'd done it.
Strength and Speed—both shattered the 80-point barrier.
Two new traits awakened:
Giant’s Strength—his every attack now carried the crushing might of a Giant.
Soru’s Divine Speed—instantaneous acceleration that outpaced even elite Rokushiki users.
He stood on the threshold of true power now.
A body forged in battle. Speed refined in suffering. Strength carved from pain.
Darren trembled.
Not from fear.
From exhilaration.
He’d endured Kaido’s fury—and leveled up because of it.
Kaido, still watching, felt a cold realization settle in his chest.
This brat... had come here not to win.
He’d come to use Kaido as a training dummy.
That insane grin during every hit—it wasn’t masochism. It was joy. The joy of growing stronger.
“You little—”
Kaido’s voice cracked as rage surged from the pit of his soul.
“I am Beast Kaido! The strongest creature alive! And you dare use me to TRAIN?!”
Darren smiled, standing tall amid the rubble, drenched in blood.
“Oh, you’re not just the strongest creature.”
He paused.
Then with a flick of his hand, magnetic energy burst beneath his feet.
“You’re the strongest teacher on land, sea, and air.”
Zzztt!
He launched into the sky, crimson cloak fluttering like a banner.
High above, he slowed, turned... and bowed politely.
“Thank you for your guidance, Kaido-sensei.”
He smiled.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Kaido staggered, as if struck by a real blow.
Queen blinked.
Then Darren turned one last time—toward Queen.
Their eyes met.
Darren gave him a knowing smile.
“...Wait,” Queen whispered, suddenly cold with dread.
“Why did he look at me?”
“Why did he smile like that?!”
He took a step back.
Then another.
“Damn it! Come back here and explain yourself!!”
Too late.
Zzzt!!
Darren vanished into the clouds, streaking toward the horizon.
Queen turned pale.
And froze.
Because behind him...
Two figures had silently stepped forward.
Kaido. King.
Queen looked up at the looming shadow over him.
“U-uh... t-this has nothing to do with me...”
Crackle.
A kanabo surged with purple lightning.
Shing.
A flame-wreathed sword ignited with a hiss.
Queen screamed.
“Aaaaaaaahhhh!!! HELP ME!!!”
To be continued...
Chapter 408: Chapter 51: Dragon and Kuma’s Adventure
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Within a quiet chapel in a modest kingdom along the Grand Line, the air was thick with incense and whispered prayers. Hidden in the dim corner beneath a high-arched window stood a man cloaked in a deep green coat, his hood drawn low over his face.
Arms folded, Dragon watched in silence.
A long line stretched through the church, filled with weary, hollow-eyed men and women. Some leaned on canes, others hobbled forward on trembling legs. Their clothes hung from skeletal frames. Starvation and sickness had carved deep grooves into every face.
At the front stood a towering man in priest’s robes, his silhouette broad, his hands gentle.
Frameless glasses sat low on his nose, his lips curved in a quiet, reassuring smile. Bartholomew Kuma placed a palm—large, calloused, and padded with pink paw-like flesh—on the chest of an old man hunched with pain.
The elder's face twisted with suffering... and then, Kuma pressed.
A faint wisp of translucent darkness rose from the man’s chest, dispersing into the air like soot on the wind.
Moments later, color returned to the elder’s cheeks. His eyes welled up in disbelief as strength crept back into his limbs.
Then he broke down sobbing, wrapping his arms around Kuma.
“Thank you! Thank you... I can’t—how can I ever repay you?!”
One by one, the line shuffled forward.
For more than an hour, Kuma treated them all, gently, wordlessly, without rest.
Only after the final villager left did Dragon finally step from the shadows.
He sighed.
“Can you really keep this up, Kuma?” he asked, voice low with concern. “They don’t know. That pain you ‘paw away’... it doesn’t disappear. You’re taking it into yourself.”
The Paw-Paw Fruit—a strange and formidable power. Its user could repel anything they touched: physical force, air pressure, even pain itself. And Kuma had developed it to its cruelest refinement—drawing out human agony and absorbing it into his own body.
But the world saw only healing hands.
Kuma smiled, wiping his brow.
“I’m fine,” he said gently. “My body can handle it.”
He chuckled, voice soft as falling snow. “These people… they have nothing, Dragon. They come here hoping for mercy from heaven. If I can give them peace, even just for a day, it’s worth a little pain.”
He looked at the doorway where the last villager had exited.
“Did you see their smiles?”
He reached into the air, pressing his palm into a floating orb of translucent pain.
His face tensed immediately, cold sweat beading at his temples. But he said nothing.
Dragon watched in silence, respect and sadness twisting in his chest.
This was the third country they'd visited together since setting sail.
Dragon’s purpose was clear: before revolution could take root, they needed to understand the world they meant to change. Not from books. Not from reports.
But with their own eyes.
They moved from kingdom to kingdom, mapping political systems, wealth gaps, power hierarchies, cultural scars. Investigating the weight of class division and state violence.
And everywhere they went...
The only constant was suffering.
Poverty. Famine. Plague. The yoke of Celestial Dragons. Human trafficking. War.
Even in the World Government’s “prosperous” member nations, the hidden rot in their slums often stank worse than the open wounds of non-member states.
“So,” Dragon said wearily, “have you found anything?”
Kuma didn’t answer at first, still absorbing the last of the pain.
Then he looked up, eyes solemn.
“You already know the answer, Dragon.”
Dragon nodded slowly.
“Poverty isn’t just a problem. It’s a design. And as long as privilege exists, exploitation will always follow.”
“But...” he exhaled, his voice low. “There’s hope.”
He looked out the window, toward the worn-down homes beyond.
“The people... they’re not as broken as they seem. They still have fire. Potential. If we can reach them—truly connect—we may yet find allies.”
Kuma bowed slightly. “You always see further than others. As expected of a former Marine strategist.”
He smiled.
“Your words: ‘Without investigation, there is no right to speak’—they echo louder with every village we pass.”
Dragon flinched.
Because he hadn’t said those words first.
Darren had.
But his pride wouldn’t let him admit it.
He coughed lightly, changing the subject. “How are you feeling now?”
Kuma leaned against a pew, wiping sweat from his brow.
“I’ll be alright. Just... need a moment to rest.”
Then he paused, and his face turned sheepish.
“But we have a problem.”
Dragon tensed. “What now?”
Kuma scratched his cheek, chuckling awkwardly.
“We’re broke.”
“WHAT?!” Dragon exploded, nearly falling over. “Don’t tell me—did you donate everything to the poor again?!”
Kuma gave a sheepish grin.
“They needed it more than we did.”
Dragon groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“Damn it, Kuma! That was our bounty money!!”
This was how it always went.
Dragon would spend days helping people. Kuma would help even more... then give away their only source of income.
They’d hunt pirates to survive—then hand every last coin over to an orphanage, a church, a ruined village.
And no matter how much Dragon scolded him, Kuma would just nod, smile... and do it again.
How are we supposed to build a revolutionary army like this?
He’d left the Marines to reshape the world.
Instead, he was running a mobile clinic and bounty hunting ring.
“This is ridiculous,” Dragon muttered. “At this rate, we’re just glorified Marines again.”
No men. No resources. No intelligence network. No plan.
He finally understood what Darren had meant the day they parted.
"This will be a very difficult road."
He slumped into a chair, ready to pass out, when something caught his eye.
A newspaper, tucked beneath a nearby hymnal.
“Huh...? What’s this...?”
To be continued...
Notes:
Regarding Kuma’s backstory, Oda threw us a wild curveball—but don’t worry. We’ll weave it all back together in due time.
Chapter 409: Chapter 52: He Has Plenty of Money
Chapter Text
Dragon moved swiftly, half-crouched, and picked up the crumpled newspaper lying on the cold stone floor.
The issue was dated the day before—likely brought in by one of the poor souls who frequented the church seeking healing or prayer. For them, reading the news was one of the few pleasures they could still afford.
But it wasn’t the date that caught Dragon’s eye. It was the blaring headline stamped across the front page in bold, aggressive type:
LIVE BROADCAST!! INVASION OF TOTTO LAND!! Newly Appointed Marine Vice Admiral Rogers Darren Single-Handedly Storms Snack Island, Defeats Charlotte Oven—Senior Executive of the Big Mom Pirates!
Below the headline, a long article detailed the incident, complete with transcripts from Darren’s live Den Den Mushi broadcast.
Dragon stared at the paper, frozen in place.
“This… this is the latest news?” he muttered. “We’ve been holed up in this church for days. Something major must’ve gone down.”
Kuma, sluggish from fatigue, trudged over. His gaze swept the page—and stopped cold.
“…This is a warning,” Dragon said, his eyes locked onto the paper. His hands began to tremble as a spark lit behind his eyes, a quiet thrill spreading across his face.
“I never imagined Darren would pull off something like this… storming into Totto Land!”
“Declaring war on pirates—all over the world—live on air!”
Kuma blinked, stunned. “Other than you… I didn’t think there was anyone in the Marines reckless enough to try something like this. Wait—Dragon, isn’t this the ‘close friend’ you used to talk about?”
Dragon puffed up with pride and gave a nod, smiling faintly. “That’s right. When he was transferred from North Blue to Marine Headquarters for training, I escorted him the whole way myself. Never expected he’d climb this high…”
His voice trailed off, touched by a vague wistfulness.
To see his old friend blazing a trail, rising steadily down the very path he himself had once dreamed of—it stirred something complex in him. Something raw.
He remembered the grand promises he used to make to Darren, bold and full of fire. And now… here he was, still lurking in the shadows, living hand-to-mouth, drifting aimlessly across the seas like a ship with no mast. The contrast hollowed out his expression, left it unreadable.
Kuma, watching him closely, placed a large hand gently on his shoulder.
“I believe in you, Dragon.”
Then, after a pause, he added in a low voice, “I’ll start saving up. From now on.”
Dragon gave a hoarse laugh. “Hold on…”
A sudden thought struck him. He rubbed his chin, thoughtful.
“…Maybe we won’t have to worry about money anymore.”
Kuma looked at him in surprise. “Huh? You’ve found a way?”
Becoming pirate hunters wasn’t exactly a lucrative profession. Before the Great Pirate Era began, there were barely any pirates out at sea. With so few bounties to claim and too many hunters fighting over scraps, building their own force through bounty hunting had always felt like an impossible dream.
Dragon glanced down at the newspaper again.
The photo of Vice Admiral Darren stared back at him, a confident smirk frozen in print.
“We’re broke,” Dragon said, “but someone else isn’t…”
The New World.
Darren stirred.
The bed beneath him was soft, almost absurdly so, but the moment he opened his eyes, a crushing wave of pain surged through his body like a tsunami.
His muscles screamed. His breath tasted of blood. His vision blurred, swimming in shades of red and gray.
He didn’t panic. He was no stranger to pain.
He assessed the damage instantly: critical condition.
Torn muscles. Ruptured organs. Dozens of broken bones. Two teeth gone. Dangerous blood loss.
Wounds like this would’ve killed a normal man twenty times over.
Even with his "Indestructible" physique and unnatural regenerative power, this was no minor injury. He estimated he’d need at least five full days to heal.
A slow breath escaped him.
“Hah…”
He pushed himself upright with one trembling hand. The movement alone triggered a cold sweat that drenched his back. His chest heaved with every ragged breath.
His hand shook as he propped himself against the headboard. His face was white as paper, a faint, unhealthy flush creeping into his cheeks.
“…Where am I?”
He glanced down.
His chest was tightly bound in bandages—simple but clean. The room surrounding him was unmistakably high-class: a private suite with an attached bath, a lounge, and furnishings of refined luxury. The air was thick with the scent of perfume—fiery, provocative, with a hint of danger.
He knew that fragrance.
The velvet-soft bedding, the genuine leather sofa, the wine cabinet stocked with rare vintage liquor… Darren had spent enough time in hotels to recognize first-rate indulgence when he saw it.
“Why am I here?” he muttered, frowning.
His memory was hazy. The last thing he recalled was fleeing Wano, his strength drained to the last drop. He’d seen an island in the distance—then passed out midair, falling like a stone.
That “special training” in Wano had pushed him to the edge. Even with his breakthroughs, he wouldn't have lasted much longer. One misstep in a battle against a monster like Kaido—and he’d have died, plain and simple.
But he’d survived. And the reward…
The reward had been worth it.
He’d shed the last layer of shackles. Pushed past the threshold that had held him back for so long.
Once his wounds healed, there wouldn’t be anything left in this world that could stand in his way.
As the thought passed through his mind, the cabin door swung open.
A woman walked in.
Her every step was a study in grace.
Golden hair curled loosely down her back. Her legs were long, her waist narrow, and her white dress clung tightly to every curve. Her phoenix eyes gleamed with mischief, and the click of her red heels echoed through the room like a challenge.
She smiled.
Dimples danced on her cheeks, her gaze sultry and unhurried.
With a casual elegance, she sank into the sofa across from him—deliberately tugging up her skirt just enough to reveal a flash of red beneath.
Red.
She’s doing it on purpose.
Darren smirked.
He knew who she was.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Darren,” she said lazily, her voice a velvet drawl. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
He chuckled, that familiar charm slipping effortlessly into his tone.
“My apologies, beautiful lady,” he said, “if I were in better shape, I’d have kissed the back of your hand by now.”
To be continued...
Chapter 410: Chapter 53: Duel of the Sea King and Sea Queen
Chapter Text
As they spoke, Darren found himself quietly studying the woman before him.
Golden hair framed a face of disarming elegance, her beauty sharp enough to wound. Shallow dimples danced on her cheeks when she smiled, but the curve of her red lips hinted at mischief—like she knew something you didn’t, and found your ignorance amusing. It gave her allure an edge, as if she could slice you open with a single glance.
Even in repose, she radiated an effortless sensuality. Every tilt of her head, every lingering glance, every languid motion seemed soaked in slow-burning seduction.
Exquisite.
Darren had never been easily swayed. During his time in North Blue, he’d shared drinks—and more—with the consorts of several royal houses. He was no stranger to the company of refined, dangerous women.
And yet, this woman stood apart.
There was something about her—an intoxicating softness in her gaze, a deliberate curve to her smile, the way her aura shimmered with temptation. It was a masterwork of controlled allure, subtle and dangerous.
Compared to Gion’s proud and youthful ferocity, Toki’s gentle reserve, or even Big Mom’s volatile maternal madness—though why he’d thought of that deranged old bat at all, he didn’t know—this woman was in a league of her own.
His lips twitched.
Must be the blood loss. My brain’s wandering.
"You seem rather cheerful," she said suddenly, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Not exactly the look of a man hanging by a thread."
Her smile deepened, her dimples catching the light.
"Hard not to be," Darren replied smoothly. "The view is helping me forget the pain."
Her laughter was light, effortless. “Well, well. So the infamous ‘King of the North Blue’ is also a charmer.”
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, a textbook gesture of coy femininity, though Darren noted how easily she slipped into it—like breathing.
Leaning forward just slightly, she gave him a calculated glimpse of the generous curves beneath her dress.
"And to think," she said, voice low and lilting, "I personally tended to your wounds… with the utmost care."
Darren’s smile didn’t waver.
Keep playing your little games, if it makes you feel in control.
Her every move—crossed legs, coy glances, breathy laughter—was deliberate. She wasn’t flirting. She was working.
But she’d made one mistake.
She thought he didn’t know who she was.
The moment she entered, he’d recognized her.
The Queen of the Pleasure District—the most powerful figure in the New World's vast underworld of indulgence. The glamorous ruler of the largest red-light district this side of the Grand Line.
But that was only her mask.
Behind it, she was one of the World Government’s top agents. A high-ranking member of Cipher Pol Aigis 0.
And behind that mask lay the truth.
Stussy—Vegapunk’s creation. A clone born of science and secrecy, copied from Buckingham Stussy of the infamous Rocks Pirates. She was the first successful human clone produced by the rogue scientific group MADS.
She had been embedded within CP0 for over twenty years, living a lie for reasons even most of the World Nobles couldn’t begin to guess.
A woman forged for espionage. Master of disguise. Mistress of infiltration. A fox wrapped in silk.
Nothing that came from her mouth could be trusted.
And yet, here she was, putting on a flawless show—her tone, her expressions, her body language perfectly calibrated to manipulate. If he hadn’t known her true identity, even Darren might’ve been drawn in.
But instead of suspicion, he felt something else.
Excitement.
So that’s how you want to play this.
He'd always considered himself a master of performance—second only to Borsalino in acting, rivaled only by Tokikake in charming women, and surpassed only by Dragon in commanding hearts.
And now? He had a worthy opponent.
A duel of deception.
A stage shared by two masters.
Sea King versus Sea Queen... now that’s entertainment.
"What a shame," Darren said, stretching lazily, voice tinged with mock regret. "Since you were so... thorough last time, why not help again?"
And in one smooth motion, he tore away the remains of his shirt and pants.
The muscles beneath were tightly corded, his body a map of scars and power. He radiated a kind of untamed force—not the sculpted vanity of a model, but the lethal grace of a predator.
Stussy’s smile faltered for half a breath.
He moved too fast.
Her trained eyes drank in the sight: every chiseled line of his body, every scar that hinted at a life carved from combat. The sheer heat that rolled off him wasn’t just masculine—it was magnetic.
Her breath caught. Her mouth went dry.
And she hated that it happened.
Because no matter how lethal a woman’s charm was to men, the reverse held true. When a man embodied both danger and beauty, he became every bit as disarming.
Rogers Darren wasn’t just attractive. He was devastating.
His raw presence outshone even the most elite hosts of the Pleasure District. In a sea full of monsters and misfits, he stood out like a diamond in a gravel pit.
Even if he’d had no power, no titles, no fame, that body alone might’ve been enough to win him a kingdom of admirers.
But he had it all—looks, charm, strength, and a reputation that could shake the world.
The kind of man every woman was warned about… and every part of her still wanted.
Damn it… Stussy bit down on her lip, crossing her legs more tightly than before. Why the hell is my body reacting to this?
For a single, unguarded moment, her carefully polished mask slipped.
And Darren noticed.
To be continued...
Chapter 411: Chapter 54: Too Many Names to Remember
Chapter Text
That insufferable man.
Stussy's smile didn't waver, but beneath the surface, irritation simmered.
Just as the rumors say... he really is an indiscriminate flirt who’ll go after anything with a pulse!
She wasn’t sure whether the frustration stemmed from Darren’s arrogant confidence—or from her own involuntary reaction to it.
Either way, she had no intention of backing down. Not now. His smugness only stoked her competitive fire.
After all, she wasn’t just the Queen of the Pleasure District in name alone.
Within the grand stage of the New World’s most decadent red-light zone, she reigned supreme—not merely as a symbol of desire, but as a tactician, an actress, and a master of intelligence. Many of the most elite Kabuki artists and courtesans—women capable of bankrupting nobles with a single glance—had been trained personally by her.
They weren’t just entertainers. They were weapons.
Men were foolish creatures. Put a beautiful woman on their arm, let strong liquor loosen their tongues, and sooner or later, they’d start spilling secrets they’d never intended to share. The courtesans only needed to listen, smile, and ask the right question at the right moment.
In that world, Stussy was the uncrowned queen.
And in this unspoken duel of charm and will, the first to flinch would lose.
A teasing smile tugged at her lips, painting her expression with cherry-red temptation.
“My, Mr. Darren… such honesty. In that case, I won’t hold back either.”
She rose with effortless grace, every motion fluid, sensual—precise.
The tap of her wine-red stilettos against the polished floor echoed like a slow, deliberate countdown. Each step a note, each note a tether winding tighter around the senses.
Darren recognized the rhythm immediately.
In his past life—before this world, before this body—he’d heard that sound countless times. The click of heels outside a private room, the hush before the door opened, the thrill of mystery. It always came with a price. Back then, it usually cost him a full day’s wages.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
The most refined, most dangerous courtesan on the Grand Line had come to him. No mystery to unwrap—but what man would complain about a gift already opened?
As those thoughts passed through his mind, Stussy reached the bedside.
Her pale, slender hands reached out, red-tipped nails tracing a slow path across Darren’s bare chest—mapping muscle, scar, and warmth.
“A body like this,” she whispered near his ear, “even the Great Pirate Charlotte Linlin would covet.”
Her hips swayed like a serpent poised to strike as she leaned closer, her breath brushing Darren’s skin, hot and sweet.
“If Big Mom found out,” she purred, “she’d be furious.”
Her voice, thick with honeyed mischief, lingered in his ear. Her fingers painted invisible sigils across his chest. The scent of perfume clung to every word.
Careful now, Darren thought, lips twitching into a subtle smirk. You’re playing with fire, woman.
He let his breath hitch deliberately, his expression tightening into something halfway between desire and panic.
“I have no interest in that lunatic,” he snapped.
“Oh?” Stussy giggled, her tone feather-light. “Then what about me, Mr. Darren? Do I pique your interest?”
Her fingers traced lower—slow, deliberate.
His muscles tensed in response.
Stussy’s eyes gleamed.
“My, my... Mr. Darren’s body is so honest.”
Hey, that’s supposed to be my line...
Despite himself, Darren couldn’t help the inward chuckle.
She was good. Too good. Her rhythm, her tone, her pacing—flawless. A lesser man would’ve crumbled already.
But Darren wasn’t a lesser man.
Still, he played along, schooling his face into a calm, amused mask.
Heh. Didn’t think he’d be this easy to tease.
Stussy’s eyes sparkled with delight as her fingers continued their lazy exploration.
“And I’ve heard,” she added softly, “that you have a beautiful wife waiting for you back at Marine Headquarters. Aren’t you afraid she’ll be jealous?”
Nope. You’re overthinking it.
If Toki ever found out, she wouldn’t be angry.
She’d probably try to drag you off somewhere and ask to be your friend.
Stussy, oblivious to the real answer, leaned in closer.
“After all, if I could win your heart... I might gain control of the Pleasure District’s influence, wealth, and intelligence network.”
Darren’s smirk faded slightly. His voice dropped.
“So you have done your research.”
She waved a hand dismissively, laughter like windchimes. “Isn’t that only natural? These days, Mr. Darren is a name that echoes across every corner of the seas.”
She tilted her head, her eyes half-lidded in admiration.
“Since your debut, you’ve crushed the World Destroyer Byrnndi World… severed the arm of Kozuki Oden, brother to Whitebeard himself… foiled Golden Lion Shiki’s schemes time and again… killed three of Big Mom’s own children… and even crippled Douglas Bullet, the so-called Demon Heir of the Roger Pirates.”
She leaned in to whisper behind his ear, lips brushing skin.
“And just yesterday… your graduation speech shook the world. Your solo raid on Totto Land made headlines across the seas.”
“Mr. Darren,” she breathed, “you’re not just famous. You’ve surpassed the Three Pillars of the Marines—Sengoku, Garp, Zephyr.”
She lingered, letting the silence stretch.
“Do you know what they call you now?”
She smiled as she whispered the list into his ear, each title delivered like a lover’s kiss:
“The New Generation Monster of Marine Headquarters.”
“The Uncrowned King of the North Blue.”
“The Heir to the Three Pillars.”
“A Strategic Deterrent Weapon.”
“The Endbringer of Legends.”
“And...”
Her fingers cupped his jaw with delicate affection. Their eyes met, her voice lowering to a hush.
“…The Future Flying Admiral.”
Darren chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist with the ease of familiarity.
“I’ve really collected that many titles?”
His hand traced the line of her spine, slow and deliberate.
“Sounds ridiculous when you say them all out loud.”
I’d die of embarrassment if I had to introduce myself with all that.
He shook his head with a low laugh.
“Nicknames always sound cooler when someone else says them, don’t they?”
Stussy gave a soft giggle, nudging his hand away before it wandered too far. Her expression turned coy, her voice a purr.
“So it’s only natural that a woman like me would want to know more about you... don’t you think?”
You’ve done your homework, huh?
Darren's brow twitched.
But he didn’t answer.
Instead, he smiled.
And Stussy saw it—that flicker of recognition.
“You’ve been investigating me too, haven’t you?” she said softly, her smile widening. “You recognized me the moment I stepped through that door.”
To be continued...
Chapter 412: Chapter 55: A Vampire?
Chapter Text
"I'm quite adept at reading a man's eyes," Stussy murmured, her fingers brushing gently along Darren’s jawline. Her crimson nails traced a path down his cheek, soft as silk but tinged with dangerous intent. "The way you looked at me the moment I walked in… that wasn’t the gaze of a stranger."
Darren chuckled softly, a wry smile touching his lips. "As expected of the Queen of the Pleasure District—the sharpest woman in all the seas. And here I thought I was keeping my poker face intact."
He lifted a finger, tilting her chin upward with playful ease. "Then again, I suppose it’s only natural. You are, after all, the dream of countless men."
He let the words linger before his smile deepened.
"So… would you say we’ve found ourselves in a moment of mutual admiration?"
Stussy giggled sweetly, the sound curling like perfume through the air. "It certainly seems that way, Mr. Darren."
Her hips swayed as she stepped closer, the motion hypnotic. Darren’s gaze drifted instinctively—down the lines of her waist, the curve of her hips—before returning to her eyes.
"But I must admit," she purred, her fingers feathering over the still-bandaged wound on his ribs, "I'm terribly curious..."
"With your current strength and position, what kind of monster could leave you in such a state?"
"Dozens of broken bones, ruptured organs, massive blood loss... It's the kind of damage that should have killed any ordinary man."
Her cherry lips parted as she gently bit down on his finger, her eyes half-lidded.
A warm, wet heat enveloped his skin as she began to suck lightly—slow, deliberate, suggestive. Darren could feel every nerve ending flare awake beneath her touch, as if his senses had been peeled bare.
Looking down, he saw her flushed cheeks, her eyes shimmering with an emotion that hovered between mischief and desire.
This woman… she’s a siren.
She knew exactly how to push a man to the brink, how to spark the flame—and pull back just before the burn.
"Mr. Darren..."
She released his finger with a soft pop.
A glistening strand of saliva clung from her lips to his fingertip, catching the light like a silk thread.
Darren’s eyes darkened for a moment, caught off guard by the surreal beauty of it. A flicker of longing ghosted across his expression before he buried it beneath a smirk.
Not missing the look, Stussy smiled and murmured in a low, coaxing voice, "Who was it that left you like this?"
"You invaded Snack Island just yesterday. Was it Big Mom?"
"If it was her... she’s wanted you for so long. She wouldn’t have the heart to let you die."
"But if not her, then who?"
"Whitebeard? Shiki? Roger, perhaps?"
She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her fingernails tracing slow circles across his chest.
"I'm dying to know, Mr. Darren..." she whispered, every syllable like a lover’s plea. "Won’t you tell me?"
For just an instant, her mask slipped. Beneath the sultry tone and practiced charm, a gleam of cold calculation flickered in her eyes.
Because Rogers Darren was no longer just a powerful Marine—he was a living threat.
His lightning strike on Snack Island had sent shockwaves across the seas. The live broadcast of Swollen Town crumbling to ruin had ignited terror in pirate crews and underworld factions alike.
The mere possibility that Darren could drop from the sky, blade in hand, and erase an entire city without warning had silenced the boldest of enemies. Even whispers now carried fear.
And yet, here he was—injured, vulnerable. A full day had passed since the broadcast. No word had come from the World Government. But Stussy, with her access to the highest channels of intelligence, knew the truth.
Marine Headquarters had entered a silent state of wartime readiness.
But not because of an official campaign.
No—this hadn’t been an order. It had been Darren’s decision.
Which meant… whatever he'd faced in Wano had been personal.
What was his goal?
Whom had he fought?
If she could extract that answer first—before the elders, before Cipher Pol—then she might just tip the scales of power. After all, information was the world’s sharpest weapon.
"You want to know badly, don’t you?" Darren’s voice was low and lazy, tinged with amusement. His eyes were half-lidded, like a man enjoying the attention of a beautiful woman.
Stussy’s heart skipped slightly. So this is the fearsome monster of the Marines? Just another man after all, she thought smugly.
"Yes, Mr. Darren," she whispered, breath warm against his neck. "I'm absolutely dying to know..."
Darren puffed up his chest slightly, nodding with mock grandeur.
“I see.”
And then his smile turned razor-sharp.
"But I’m not going to tell you."
Stussy froze.
Before she could react, his arms snapped around her waist like steel cables, drawing her firmly into his chest. The strength in his grip stole the breath from her lungs.
His voice turned low and cold. “Stussy, I’ve been completely open with you. But you… you’ve been playing a different game. Spying. Hiding your true identity.”
"Isn’t that a bit unfair?"
Stussy’s pupils shrank.
Not from fear—yet—but from pure surprise.
He shouldn't have this kind of strength. Not so soon.
Her thoughts raced.
How is he moving like this? How has he recovered so much strength in minutes?
What kind of body does he have? What kind of monster heals like this?!
She tried to break free—but couldn’t move.
Still, she didn’t panic.
Instead, she smiled, her voice sweet as sugar.
“Hehe... Vice Admiral Darren, you've caught me.”
"The titles 'Queen of the Pleasure District' and 'Dark Empress of the New World' are just masks. I work for the World Government’s intelligence network... technically, that makes us colleagues."
She rubbed her cheek against his neck, her voice a soft purr.
"This bad little spy knows she’s been naughty. But surely you won’t punish me too harshly… will you?"
She lingered on the word punish, her tone dripping with implication.
Darren’s hand slid lower, teasing along the swell of her breast.
"Punishment," he murmured, "is unavoidable."
"But that’s not the identity I’m talking about."
His voice turned colder still.
"The one you’re truly loyal to… isn’t the World Government."
He leaned close, smirking. "It’s Dr. Vegapunk, isn’t it?"
Time froze.
Stussy’s pupils contracted to pinpricks.
No one should know that.
She didn’t hesitate.
With a flicker of motion, her body twisted. Her back split open, and from beneath her skin burst massive black wings. Her golden eyes bled into crimson, and sharp fangs emerged from behind her lips.
The seductress vanished.
In her place stood a vampire.
With a hiss, she lunged—mouth open, fangs gleaming. She drove her bite into Darren’s neck, confident in her victory.
He was too slow, too injured.
This would be over in one bite.
And then—
Snap!
Pain exploded in her mouth.
Her eyes went wide.
Two of her razor-sharp fangs cracked—and shattered.
Stussy: ???
She reeled back, dazed, lips parted in disbelief.
Did I… just bite into Sea Stone?!
To be continued...
Chapter 413: Chapter 56: Indestructible Body
Chapter Text
The room had gone still—deathly still.
Clack…
Two broken fangs hit the wooden floor with a chilling clarity, the sharp sound echoing like a verdict in the quiet.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Stussy: ...
Darren: ( ̄∀ ̄)
Stussy: (。_。)
Shock slowly dawned across Stussy’s elegant features. Her lips parted in disbelief.
Her fangs had shattered.
Her vampire fangs—capable of piercing through steel like paper—had snapped like brittle glass against this man’s skin.
What in the hell was his body made of?
She had seduced kings, sunk her teeth into warlords, and assassinated enemies whose skin was said to be tougher than armor. And yet Darren’s neck remained unblemished, not a drop of blood spilled.
Her thoughts scrambled.
Charlotte Linlin’s “Steel Balloon” body was already said to be invulnerable—an iron fortress of flesh.
But this… this might be something even more terrifying.
The realization struck like lightning.
Could it be... the Indestructible Body?
Stussy’s breath hitched.
How? How could that be possible?
"Well," Darren said lazily, rubbing his neck where her fangs had barely left a mark, "I didn't expect you to be a vampire..."
There was a glint in his eye—amused, curious, dangerous.
His fingers traced the faint dent where she'd bitten, and he cocked his head. "So, is this Vegapunk’s doing? Lineage Factor manipulation? Or an Artificial Devil Fruit?"
Stussy’s heart skipped a beat.
He knows.
Artificial Zoan Fruits, created by Dr. Vegapunk, were one of the government’s deepest secrets—still unstable, highly experimental, and locked down behind layers of classified clearance. Even CP0 agents whispered about them in code.
Only those closest to Vegapunk—those like her—knew the truth.
And this man had just guessed it.
Not only that—he knew about her secret allegiance. Her loyalty to Vegapunk, her deep-cover status within the World Government.
Just how much does he know?
Stussy's mind raced, trying to piece together how she'd lost control so quickly. Her mission, her layers of deception—shattered in mere minutes. The Vice Admiral who was rumored to be a brute… was anything but.
She recalled the dossiers: Lustful. Extravagant. Arrogant. Volatile. Dangerous.
Yet closer analysis always hinted at something else—something colder, more calculating.
Was this fall into the Pleasure District truly an accident?
Had he staged it, knowing who she was? Was all of this just a trap to lower her guard and draw out her secrets?
And if that was true…
Then what did he really want?
What card was he planning to play next?
A chill swept through her spine, drowning out the simmering heat.
If Darren had seen the tangle of thoughts in her mind, he probably would’ve sighed and muttered, “You spies always think everyone else is playing 5D chess. Sometimes, people just fall out of the sky.”
"It’s definitely artificial,” Darren said aloud, thoughtfully. “Vegapunk never ceases to amaze. Five hundred years ahead of the world… they weren’t exaggerating.”
He wasn’t lying. A part of him was fascinated. The idea of combining science with power—of marrying technology to raw strength—held immense appeal. If he could get his hands on even a fragment of Vegapunk’s research…
The North Blue Fleet would become unstoppable.
But Egghead Island remained under heavy lock and key. Not even Vice Admirals had clearance to approach. Only Borsalino, as head of the Special Science Group, might get close.
And Darren, for all his growing power, wasn't ready to burn that bridge just yet.
Not unless the World Government forced his hand.
But his smile turned cold as he looked at the woman before him.
And then, without warning, he pinched her cheek.
Hard.
“You've been a very naughty girl,” he said, voice low and amused. “We were having such a nice conversation, and then you decided to bite me. That’s not very polite, is it?”
Stussy’s eyes flared. Panic touched the edge of her features for the first time.
His grip tightened. Her body was locked against him, completely immobile.
She squirmed, but Darren didn’t budge.
CP0 agents were killers—masters of espionage, assassination, subterfuge. But raw strength was never their forte.
Darren, on the other hand, had already surpassed the level of a giant in terms of sheer power. His ability, Giant’s Strength, combined with his monstrous constitution, made him an immovable wall of muscle and might.
Stussy’s breath caught.
Her fangs had broken.
Her secrets were laid bare.
And now… she couldn’t even move.
The fear crept in like ice under the skin.
"So tell me,” Darren whispered, his smile humorless, “how should I punish you?"
She clenched her jaw, crimson eyes blazing. “Who the hell are you? Even as a Vice Admiral, there’s no way you should know all this!”
Darren laughed. “Didn’t you just list all my titles? Don’t pretend you didn’t memorize them like a fangirl.”
He tilted his head.
“But you missed one.”
Her breath caught. “...What?”
With a flick of his wrist, Darren hoisted her up like a rag doll. Her bat-like wings flared wide, sending a windstorm roaring through the room, whipping curtains and furniture into chaos.
Still, Darren stood unmoved, calm as a statue.
"You missed my favorite one,” he said, eyes gleaming.
"The greatest disgrace in Marine history."
And with that, he threw her—hard.
Thud!
She crashed into the bed, her dress ripping open, threads catching and tearing. Her body sprawled across the sheets, pale skin exposed, wings twitching behind her, crimson eyes wild.
The woman who once reigned as the Queen of the Pleasure District now looked both otherworldly and helpless—an angel fallen in disgrace.
Darren approached slowly, his shadow falling across her trembling form.
He leaned down, his voice low, deliberate.
“So come on, Empress of Temptation. Show me what all the fuss is about.”
For a moment, Stussy couldn’t breathe.
Her composure collapsed completely.
This wasn’t seduction anymore.
This was power.
This was the Indestructible Body.
And at last, as her pupils trembled and her voice caught in her throat, the unthinkable passed her lips.
“No...”
To be continued...
Chapter 414: Chapter 57: Shadows of Secrets Unveiled
Notes:
"I'm Back!"
I took an accidental month-long nap — and now I’ve respawned.
Coffee’s ready, fingers are warmed up, and translations are back on the menu! ☕🔥
Chapter Text
The air in the room hung heavy, thick with the scent of shattered opulence and unspoken truths. Stussy’s crimson eyes widened, her breath catching as her mind reeled. Her black bat wings twitched erratically behind her, slicing through the air with a ferocity that shredded the silken bedsheets into ribbons. Panic clawed at her chest, a cold, primal terror that drowned out all reason.
“What… what are you doing?” Her voice quivered, barely holding its regal edge as she forced the words past trembling lips.
Darren stood before her, a towering figure radiating raw, untamed power. His presence was a storm—brutal, unyielding, and laced with a predatory hunger that made her vampire instincts scream. His eyes glinted with menace, locking onto hers with an intensity that pinned her in place.
“What do you think, Stussy?” His voice was a low, mocking drawl as he seized her wrists, his grip iron-hard and unrelenting. He yanked her arms above her head, pinning them with a savage ease that made her heart lurch. “You’re the Queen of the Pleasure District, the siren who rules the desires of this lawless sea. Shouldn’t you know exactly what a man like me wants?”
Stussy’s body shuddered, her pale cheeks flaring with a heat that felt like it could burn through her skin. Her fangs sank into her lower lip, drawing a bead of dark blood that trailed down her chin, a stark contrast to her ghostly pallor. The sight only amplified her eerie, otherworldly beauty—a predator cornered, yet still dangerous.
“Damn you!” she spat, her voice a hiss of defiance. She summoned every ounce of her strength, her muscles coiling as she unleashed her Armament Haki. The air crackled with her power, the wooden floorboards groaning and splintering under the force of her resistance. The walls trembled, as if the room itself feared her wrath.
“Release me!” Her shout was sharp, laced with fury and desperation.
Darren’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening. Her resistance was fierce—too fierce. This could spiral out of control. A cruel smirk curled his lips as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Queen Stussy,” he purred, “you wouldn’t want the World Government to learn of your little secret, would you? Your loyalty to Dr. Vegapunk?”
The words struck like a blade. Stussy froze, her body going rigid as if the air had been sucked from the room. Her eyes widened, raw terror flashing across her face. Her secret—her allegiance to Vegapunk—was a truth she guarded with her life. If the World Government uncovered it, the consequences would be unimaginable. As a CP0 agent, she knew the horrors of their interrogation chambers: endless torment, no mercy, no escape. And worse, it wouldn’t just be her. Vegapunk himself would be dragged into the abyss.
I can’t let that happen, she thought, her heart pounding. My life is nothing compared to his safety.
Her resistance crumbled. Her fangs bit deeper into her lip, drawing more blood as she glared at Darren with a mix of loathing and resignation. “You’re a vile, shameless bastard,” she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.
Darren’s chuckle was low, dismissive. “Even bastards have their charm.”
He leaned closer, his grin wicked and unyielding. “Besides, you started this game, Stussy. And while your words curse me, your body…” His gaze raked over her, deliberate and provocative. “It’s singing a different tune.”
Shame and fury flickered in her eyes, a storm of emotions she couldn’t voice. She turned her head away, her silence a grudging surrender. Her bat wings began to fold, her fangs retracting as she prepared to shift back to her human form.
“No,” Darren’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “Stay like that.”
Stussy froze, her breath hitching.
His grin widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I want the vampire.”
Her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, her eyes flashing with indignation. Before she could retort, a low, beastly growl rumbled beside her ear, and her mind went blank, swept away by the sheer force of his presence.
The clash that followed was chaos incarnate.
When the storm finally subsided, the room was a ruin. The floor was a maze of cracks, the grand bed reduced to splintered wreckage. Darren lounged on the leather sofa, his posture languid, triumphant. He plucked a gold-tipped cigar from the coffee table, lighting it with a flourish. The rich smoke curled in his throat, a slow exhale escaping his lips as he savored the moment. His Indestructible Body—forged through Kaido’s brutal training—rendered the cigar’s toxins meaningless. Poison, pain, weakness: all were trifles to him now.
He glanced at Stussy, sprawled across the wreckage of the bed. The Queen of the Pleasure District lay curled in on herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her skin glistened with sweat, her black wings trembling faintly behind her. Her crimson-painted toes curled, her body a portrait of vulnerability and defeat. Yet even in her broken state, there was an undeniable allure—a fallen empress, her mystique unshattered.
Darren’s chest swelled with a primal sense of conquest. Stussy was no ordinary woman. Queen of the Pleasure District, CP0 operative, a dark emperor of the underworld—her titles wove an aura of untouchable grandeur. Her Mythical Zoan fruit granted her a resilience that let him unleash the full extent of his newfound powers—Giant’s Strength and Soru’s Divine Speed—without restraint. His Indestructible Body had met its match, and he’d emerged victorious.
“Thanks, Kaido-sensei,” he murmured, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Next time, I’ll bring you something better than sake.”
“You… bastard,” Stussy rasped, her voice weak but venomous as she lifted her head. Her eyes burned with a fury that could ignite the room.
Darren raised his hands, feigning innocence. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”
Her face flushed with mortification. “Never,” she spat, though her voice wavered, betraying her.
He smirked, but then his gaze drifted downward, and his expression faltered. A crimson stain marred the torn white sheets, stark and undeniable. His cigar nearly slipped from his fingers as he choked, coughing violently. Disbelief flooded his mind.
The Queen of the Pleasure District… a virgin?
The thought was absurd, impossible. Yet the evidence lay before him, as undeniable as the wreckage around them.
To be continued...
Chapter 415: Chapter 58: Where’s Darren? What’s He Doing?
Chapter Text
Marineford — Fleet Admiral’s Office.
The air was stifling.
Every senior officer from Marine Headquarters had gathered, and not a single one looked calm. The heavy silence clung to the room like a wet cloak, broken only by the occasional scrape of boots shifting uneasily on the polished floor.
Then—
Bang!
Kong’s fist slammed into his desk, the force fracturing the surface into a spiderweb of cracks.
“Still no word from Darren?!” he bellowed. “Not a damn update, Sengoku?!”
Sengoku flinched. He had been pacing relentlessly, worry etched deep into the furrows of his brow.
“N-no… nothing yet, Fleet Admiral Kong.”
“Damn it all...” Kong hissed, pressing his fingers to his temple. His frustration bled into every line of his face.
It had been over twenty-four hours since Darren had checked in—his last transmission coming through a secure Den Den Mushi line from Wano Country. Since then, total silence.
Not a whisper. Not a trace.
Had something gone wrong?
“Did he cross paths with Kaido…?” one Vice Admiral murmured.
The possibility sent a ripple of unease through the room.
The longer the silence stretched, the heavier their concern grew.
“Well, you lot are acting like he’s dead already.”
The voice came lazily from the sofa.
Garp sat reclined with his legs propped up, a half-empty bag of senbei in hand. He crunched one into his mouth, unfazed by the tension around him.
“That kid’s way too slippery to die so easily.”
He chuckled. “Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time Kaido caught him.”
Kong and Sengoku both twitched.
Several Vice Admirals turned to glare at Garp, faces darkening.
“Garp, you damn geezer—!”
Before they could finish, Sengoku marched over and snatched the senbei straight out of his hand. Without a word, he dumped the remaining contents into his own mouth.
“Hey! That was mine!”
“Too bad! You’ve had enough!”
“You can’t even chew properly, old goat!”
“Want me to beat you to death with the empty bag?!”
Within seconds, the two were locked in a petty scuffle, grappling on the floor like quarrelsome schoolboys. Dust and curses flew in equal measure.
“Enough!”
Kong erupted, his voice shaking the walls.
He rose from his chair, Conqueror’s Haki bursting forth like a storm. A violent gust surged through the office, black lightning crackling across the air.
The entire room recoiled. Several Vice Admirals staggered under the weight of it, raising their arms defensively against the sheer pressure. Their knees nearly buckled.
Even Garp and Sengoku froze, instinctively straightening like schoolchildren caught red-handed.
“Hmph.”
Kong withdrew his Haki with a huff, returning to his chair with a weary sigh.
Though they hadn’t sounded a public alarm, Marineford’s docks were already prepared: five elite battleships stationed in port, fully manned, ready to deploy.
Sakazuki and Borsalino had already departed and were presumed to be en route to the New World. Tensions were high, and the window for inaction was rapidly closing.
Kong rubbed his forehead, brow deeply furrowed.
We can’t afford to wait much longer.
Darren’s disappearance wasn’t just a personal matter. Not anymore. Since his devastating raid on Totto Land, he had become something far greater—an icon, a deterrent. A strategic asset.
They couldn’t risk losing him.
Just then, the door burst open.
One of Sengoku’s personal guards rushed inside, breathless and flushed with urgency. “Report! Urgent news from the New World!”
Sengoku stepped forward instantly. “Speak!”
“Vice Admiral Darren has been sighted—alive!”
A moment of stunned silence filled the room.
Then cheers erupted.
“Excellent!” Sengoku slammed his fist into his palm, a rare, genuine grin lighting his face.
Relief swept through the room like a cleansing tide.
Darren had become too important—not just for morale, but for Marine strategy itself. In a single operation, he’d acquired over a billion berries in military ‘support’—not to mention his growing reputation as a one-man army.
Sengoku’s chest swelled with pride.
To think… Darren may even surpass Sakazuki or Borsalino in influence someday.
Then the thought struck him—and his smile wavered.
Could he even surpass... me?
He blinked. No—ridiculous. I’m next in line for Fleet Admiral. Obviously.
Still, the grin he wore was no longer as confident.
And that was all the opening Garp needed.
With speed belying his years, Garp snatched the remaining senbei back, cradling it like treasure. “Hah! I told you! That brat’s not going down anytime soon!”
Laughter exploded from him, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.
“Rogers Darren—Marine Headquarters’ Greatest Disgrace!” he roared.
Kong exhaled slowly, the knot in his chest finally beginning to loosen.
He wasn’t naive. Darren was a magnet for trouble—a walking offense to every major pirate in the Grand Line.
But he was alive.
That was what mattered.
“That’s all that matters,” Kong muttered, his voice barely audible, yet filled with relief.
Sengoku turned to his guard. “Where is he now?”
The soldier hesitated.
“Well... Admiral Sengoku, that’s…”
Sengoku frowned. “Spit it out. We’re all core personnel here. No secrets.”
The guard looked around the room nervously before leaning in.
“Sir... Vice Admiral Darren is currently… in the Pleasure District.”
Silence.
Sengoku’s smile froze on his face.
Kong: …
Tsuru: …
The officers: …
And then—
“PfffffHAHAHAHA!” Garp doubled over, pounding the armrest of the sofa with abandon. “That damned brat! Straight from Wano to the Pleasure District?!”
He wiped tears from his eyes. “Marine’s greatest disgrace, indeed!”
Kuzan smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Fight hard, play harder. The man lives what he preaches.”
“This is… so cool.”
To be continued...
Chapter 416: Chapter 59: Who Would Believe That?
Chapter Text
Back at Marineford, Kuzan was still buzzing.
He looked like he’d just stumbled upon the lost secrets of the Void Century.
“So that’s Darren’s secret to getting stronger,” he murmured in awe. “The Pleasure District…”
His eyes gleamed.
“Of course! A few drinks, a few dancers… it’s the perfect recovery strategy! Why didn’t I think of this before?”
He immediately pulled a small notebook from his coat pocket, ready to immortalize his so-called revelation.
But just as his pen touched paper—
Snatch.
The notebook vanished.
Standing before him was Vice Admiral Tsuru, her expression as blank as freshly ironed linen.
“…Vice Admiral Tsuru?”
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she gave him a long, cold stare before tucking the notebook under her arm like contraband.
“Kuzan,” she said wearily, “this isn’t some mystical training method.”
“That damned Darren is just a pervert.”
Kuzan blinked. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
He turned hopefully to his mentor, Garp, who had just refilled his mouth with senbei.
Garp chuckled. “Well, if you really want to… the occasional break to, y’know, unwind…”
He trailed off.
Tsuru’s glare shifted to him, sharper than any blade.
Garp stiffened instantly. The smile drained from his face.
“…is absolutely forbidden, of course!” he corrected, striking a heroic pose. “You must resist temptation at all costs! Protect your spirit! Guard your virtue!”
Kuzan stared, utterly bewildered.
“But… isn’t that what Darren does all the time?”
Garp’s mouth twitched.
The Vice Admirals nearby looked as if they'd just swallowed vinegar.
“Ahem. Let me put it this way,” Garp said, scrambling for a lifeline. “If Darren hadn’t spent so much time… relaxing, he’d probably have reached Admiral-level strength long ago.”
“…Ahh.” Kuzan nodded slowly, finally piecing together the flawed logic in Darren’s so-called "training method."
Across the room, Sengoku stood in complete silence, his eye twitching violently.
They had spent the past twenty-four hours on high alert, preparing for the worst. They’d mobilized fleets, readied the warships, activated covert surveillance—all for Darren.
And where had that bastard been?
In the Pleasure District.
Eating oysters and sipping red wine.
Sengoku's expression darkened, veins rising on his forehead. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His jaw worked furiously, as if chewing invisible gravel.
He looked ready to explode.
Realizing this, several officers scrambled to diffuse the situation.
“W-well, it’s understandable,” one mumbled. “He’s young. Still full of energy.”
“Exactly! Vice Admiral Darren has been non-stop—fighting, raiding, executing high-risk missions. He’s earned a little rest!”
“Right! Just a… bit of healthy release. Keeps the mind sharp!”
“Absolutely! Very important… for morale.”
Sengoku inhaled deeply, exhaled sharply, and forced a rictus smile.
“Since Vice Admiral Darren has been confirmed safe, we’ll… stand down from wartime readiness.”
He turned to Kong.
Kong sighed like someone who had aged ten years in five minutes.
“Meeting adjourned.”
The officers snapped to attention, saluting in unison before filing out.
At the back of the room, a shadow lingered.
Commodore Gion stood silently, head bowed as she wiped down her golden katana. Her movements were smooth, meticulous—but her narrowed eyes glinted with something darker.
New World — Pleasure District.
A lavish private dining suite.
A long banquet table stretched between them, heavy with delicacies: East Blue steak, South Blue red wine, freshly harvested oysters from Fish-Man Island, and a rainbow of sashimi platters that shimmered under the golden lights.
Darren and Stussy sat on opposite ends of the table, impeccably dressed once more, each wearing a composed expression that masked the maelstrom beneath.
Silver cutlery gleamed. Porcelain plates clinked softly.
But Darren barely touched his food.
He stared at the array before him with a vacant expression, as if trying to understand the very nature of reality.
Who the hell would believe this?
Stussy—the Queen of the Pleasure District. CP0 agent. Seductress extraordinaire.
A virgin?
Darren's mind reeled.
He’d seen the proof with his own eyes. But it still refused to compute.
She was too composed. Too practiced. Her charm was effortless. Every glance, every shift of her posture, every word that slipped from her lips—it all screamed expert. Even noblewomen from North Blue couldn’t match her level of finesse.
And yet…
There it was.
A truth that defied logic.
Across the table, Stussy ate with graceful, precise movements. She hadn’t said a word since the meal began.
Darren squirmed in his seat.
How the hell am I supposed to eat like this?
If she had been a practiced courtesan, he wouldn’t have blinked. He could’ve accepted the situation like any other conquest—cool, confident, unaffected.
But a virgin?!
Now every chew of steak tasted like guilt.
A clatter broke the silence.
Stussy set down her utensils.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Darren?” Her voice was gentle, teasing. “Regretting your decision?”
She picked up a napkin, dabbed the corners of her mouth with elegant poise, and met his gaze with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“This is quite the surprise. Didn’t you call yourself the Marine’s greatest disgrace?”
Darren coughed. “I… uh…”
He glanced around, as if the gilded wallpaper could offer him a lifeline.
“You… how could you possibly be…”
“Be what?” Stussy tilted her head, eyes gleaming with deliberate innocence.
Darren's eyelid twitched.
“…First time.”
“Hehehe.” Stussy chuckled, her dimples deepening. “What else would it be?”
She reached for a tall glass of milk and pulled the straw between her lips, sipping slowly—deliberately—with just enough emphasis to make Darren’s composure crack.
He could practically hear the gears grinding in his brain.
She’s doing this on purpose!
How is she this skilled?! Even princesses from the North Blue weren’t this seductive!
Darren forced himself to breathe.
Stussy glanced at him from beneath her lashes, amused.
She was still angry—furious, even—over how recklessly he had handled things earlier. But now…
Now it was her turn to regain some ground.
What irked her most, however, was something she couldn’t admit aloud:
Even now, half an hour later, her body still tingled faintly. That maddening energy he unleashed—wild, overwhelming—still echoed in her nerves like aftershocks.
It left her flushed. And furious.
And worst of all…
She wasn’t entirely sure she hated it.
To be continued...
Chapter 417: Chapter 60: This Is the Last Time
Chapter Text
The sensation still lingered.
It coiled beneath Stussy’s skin, subtle and persistent, haunting her with ghostly aftershocks of something primal and new. Her crimson eyes shimmered faintly, a haze settling over them as the memory played again in her mind—reluctantly, vividly, addictively.
She had never expected it to feel like that.
Unbeknownst to Darren, Stussy’s expertise in seduction was never born of experience. She was a clone—designed, not raised. A flawless copy of Buckingham Stussy, former member of the Rocks Pirates, created in MADS’ early experiments under Dr. Vegapunk.
To ensure the success of her deep-cover role within CP0 and her eventual control over the Pleasure District, Vegapunk had encoded not only genetic enhancements into her DNA, but whole banks of knowledge. Elegant gestures, psychological tactics, bodily control, behavioral theories—all downloaded directly into her from conception.
But theory was not practice.
No amount of programming could prepare her for the disorienting flood of sensation—the loss of rhythm, the unruly chaos of touch, the feeling.
She had been a master of technique.
Until now.
“Ahem...” Darren finally broke the silence, clearly wrestling with his own curiosity. “So... why?”
He leaned forward, his tone half-playful, half-perplexed. “With your, uh, skill set, it’s hard to believe that was your first time. You’re the Queen of the Pleasure District! Doesn’t that come with... responsibilities?”
Stussy rolled her eyes. “If I wanted to, I could drop a man into a dream state with a single bite.”
She swirled her wine glass lazily between her fingers, her tone light but not flippant.
“While he’s unconscious, I can manipulate his dreams. Fantasies, desires, illusions... all with just a whisper.”
Darren’s fork paused mid-air.
Dream manipulation? Through a bite?
His face twitched.
Thank the sea I’ve got the Indestructible Body... If I’d gotten trapped in some bizarre illusion—
He shuddered at the thought.
What if I’d had one of those dreams? One of those dreams?
He cleared his throat and straightened, trying not to look impressed.
“So... it really was your first time?”
“Mm.”
Stussy gave a small, unapologetic nod, her lips curling into a droll smile.
“Then I...” Darren blinked, momentarily stunned.
I hit the jackpot?!
“Well then,” she said softly, her gaze flicking to him, “you’ve gotten what you wanted.”
She bit her lip, a flash of reluctant vulnerability breaking through her polished exterior. “Please keep this... between us.”
Darren was about to agree when something mischievous sparked behind his eyes.
“That depends on your future behavior, Queen of the Pleasure District.”
Stussy’s face froze.
That bastard...
He was going to blackmail her with this—wasn’t he?
Darren chuckled, cutting into his steak with theatrical nonchalance. Watching her squirm, knowing she hated being outmaneuvered, gave him no small amount of satisfaction.
Because Stussy wasn’t just a woman—she was power.
An underworld empress. A CP0 elite. A clone of Vegapunk’s own making. With the right handling, she could be the sharpest dagger in Darren’s arsenal.
Her Pleasure District connections would give him eyes and ears across the New World.
Her CP0 affiliation meant access to secrets even most admirals weren’t privy to.
And her link to Vegapunk—that was the key to everything. If he ever hoped to contact the genius behind the Indestructible Body… Stussy might be the door.
She glared at him.
“What else do you want?” she demanded. “I’ve already given you everything!”
Darren leaned back, swirling his wine with a casual grin.
“Want? Oh, Stussy... the list is endless.”
“But for now—”
He set his glass down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood.
“Right now, I want you.”
Stussy’s heart jumped.
Again?! Already?!
His earlier recklessness still throbbed through her bones like aftershocks of a quake. Her mind reeled. Her eyes widened. Her body remembered.
She rose abruptly, but Darren was already in front of her.
He gently cupped her cheek.
“You enjoyed it too, didn’t you?”
She turned away, biting her lip.
He leaned in, his voice a purr.
“Why don’t you use all your tricks this time? I’ll go easy.”
“And I promise…” he whispered, smiling like a devil, “this’ll be the last time.”
(Bellirys: Is there anyone who actually believes "it’s the last time"? (¬‿¬))
---
An hour later, Darren strolled out of the hotel, practically glowing.
He tossed a thick stack of bills to the doorman, who bowed so deeply he nearly fell over.
Darren lit a cigar, exhaled slowly, and grinned like a man who had won everything.
Back inside, the bathroom steamed.
Stussy stood beneath the pounding shower, legs trembling, skin flushed red—not just from the scalding water.
Her cheeks burned.
Her jaw clenched.
Damn him... making me pose like that...!
She rinsed her mouth, glaring at her own reflection.
This—this—was not how things were supposed to go.
She’d spent her whole life studying, preparing, mastering control.
But the chaos Darren had brought into her life in less than a day? Unscripted. Unmanageable.
And utterly unforgettable.
It’s fine, she told herself. This is the last time.
She closed her eyes.
But even as she said it, her breath hitched—just a little—and her brow furrowed, the memory returning in waves.
---
Outside, Darren wandered through the vibrant streets of the Pleasure District.
Neon lanterns swayed. Laughter echoed from izakayas. Casino bells rang in the distance. Women in silk kimonos whispered promises behind painted fans.
It was a city of shadows wrapped in silk.
Behind every curtain, blood had once been spilled.
Fortunes made. Empires born.
Darren watched it all with a predator’s eye.
Now, with Stussy’s support, he could start taking pieces—one district at a time. The underworld could be his.
He was already calculating.
And then—
“Mr. Gill! You’re back! We missed you so much!”
A chorus of high-pitched voices called out flirtatiously from around a corner.
Darren raised a brow.
Mr. Gill? What kind of idiot uses a name like that?
He turned, mildly amused—
And his smirk died on the spot.
His cigar nearly fell from his lips.
“T-Tokikake?!”
To be continued...
Chapter 418: Chapter 61: No Payment Necessary
Chapter Text
What the hell is Tokikake doing here?
This is the New World. The guy just got promoted to Commodore back at Headquarters. Shouldn’t he be drowning in debriefings, shifting duties, buried under a mountain of paperwork? How in the world did he end up here?
...Wait a second. This is the Pleasure District?
Ah. That explains everything.
Darren narrowed his eyes at the familiar figure in the distance, a vein twitching on his forehead. With a weary sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Tokikake was clearly trying to fly under the radar—but his idea of subtlety left much to be desired. He’d swapped his uniform for a loud Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts that exposed his hairy calves, and a pair of flimsy flip-flops. A toothpick dangled lazily from his mouth as he sauntered into the Bubble Bath Center, hands stuffed in his pockets like he owned the place.
The bunny girls at the entrance lit up like they'd spotted a walking treasure chest. They rushed toward him, all giggles and fluttering lashes, hooking onto his arms with practiced ease.
“Mr. Gill, where have you been all this time...?”
“We’ve missed you so much, Mr. Gill...”
“You’ve gotten even more handsome since your last visit...”
The compliments were syrupy sweet, but their smiles were genuine, eyes twinkling with a professional charm honed to perfection.
“Hahaha! You girls really missed me?” Tokikake grinned, glowing under their attention. He looked like he might float off the ground, his steps already wobbling with tipsy delight.
“Of course! You’re our favorite guest!”
“No one else could ever compare to you...”
“Will you let all of us pamper you again today, Mr. Gill?”
They clung to him more tightly, pressing close, their voices dripping with flirtation.
“Of course, hehehe...”
With a ridiculous grin spreading across his flushed face, Tokikake puffed out his chest, planted his hands on his hips, and declared with unearned grandeur:
“This old dog just got promoted! Tonight, I’m going all out!”
Laughing like a fool, he let the girls drag him deeper into the club, swaggering like a conquering hero.
Watching from a distance, Darren’s mouth twitched. Gotta hand it to him—Tokikake had some serious moves. Looked like he was a regular around here, too.
Darren shook his head and let it go. It wasn’t like it was unusual for Marines to unwind in places like this during downtime. In the original timeline, that rascal Tokikake would sneak off to the Golden City casino every chance he got. As long as they didn’t go overboard, the brass tended to turn a blind eye. Marines lived hard lives—wasn’t a little pleasure now and then their due?
“Still, I need to report in about Wano... That old man Sengoku’s probably breathing fire by now.”
Darren rubbed the stubble on his chin, mulling over his options. His military Den Den Mushi, unfortunately, had been reduced to a useless snot-smeared mess courtesy of Kaido’s “educational” club.
Earlier that morning, while he was still putting his pants back on, Stussy had casually offered to make the call for him—through her own network, of course. He’d declined without hesitation. Best to keep their... real arrangement buried deep below the surface.
He scanned the street and spotted a dingy little tabloid office just across the way. Moments later, after slapping a wad of cash onto the counter, the manager practically bowed as he handed over their private Den Den Mushi.
“Purupuru... purupuru...”
The dials clicked as the connection went through. Darren lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly as he waited.
Then—
“Gacha!”
The Den Den Mushi snapped to life.
“Hello?” came the unmistakably sharp voice of Sengoku.
Darren smirked. “Admiral Sengoku. This is Darren.”
He held the Den Den Mushi at arm’s length.
As expected, there was a brief pause... then the snail’s face twisted into a furious, vein-popping scowl, eyes blazing with rage.
“DARREN, YOU LITTLE BRAT! You still remember Headquarters exists?!”
“Do you have any idea how much coordination went into supporting your deployment?!”
Spittle flew from the Den Den Mushi as Sengoku roared, the sheer force of his outrage practically rattling the line.
Unbothered, Darren calmly picked at his ear. “Apologies, Admiral. The situation in Wano turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. I sustained serious injuries, which delayed communication.”
“Injuries?! And you went straight to the Pleasure District afterward?!” There was the unmistakable sound of a desk being slammed. “Is that how you recover?!”
Darren: ……
Welp. Busted.
A flicker of guilt crossed his face.
If nothing had happened, he could've played dumb. But the truth was... something had happened.
And it involved the Queen of the Pleasure District.
Still, Darren’s skin was thicker than steel.
“Ahem. Admiral Sengoku, I assure you—I’ve been resting and recovering diligently. I absolutely did not engage in any... transactions of pleasure with anyone in the district.”
There was a moment of silence. Sengoku’s furious expression didn’t ease, but his tone lost a bit of its bite.
“You’re absolutely sure?” he asked suspiciously.
Darren’s voice rang with righteous conviction. “You have to believe me, Admiral. I’m a Marine—trained to the highest standards.”
Well... no money changed hands. So technically, it wasn’t a transaction.
That logic held up.
Sengoku exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
Darren had no reason to lie. If he’d clashed with Kaido in Wano, then serious injuries were inevitable. The Emperor’s strength was still well beyond his.
Then Darren’s smug voice came crackling back through the line: “Besides, with charm like mine, Admiral... I don’t need to pay for companionship.”
Thud!
A crash sounded as Sengoku fell backward in his chair.
He shot up, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation.
So you’re actually proud of that?!
Clutching his chest like he’d been personally insulted, Sengoku barked, “Report your status, now! How bad are your injuries? Do you require extraction?”
“We’ve already mobilized Sakazuki and Borsalino’s battleships. They’re positioned in the New World, ready to deploy to the Pleasure District on my signal.”
Sakazuki and Borsalino?
Darren’s eyes narrowed.
If the situation with the Beasts Pirates were escalating to war, normally Sengoku himself would be leading the charge. But if Akainu and Kizaru were at the helm instead... it meant the new power structure of the Marines was already taking form.
The old guard was preparing to hand off the front lines.
Sengoku, just like in the original story, would likely retreat to the rear to oversee strategy and command.
“No need, Admiral,” Darren replied. “I’m recovering quickly. I should be able to return within a few days.”
Borsalino wouldn’t be so bad. He might even tag along for drinks and a lazy stroll through the district.
But Sakazuki?
Absolutely not.
Darren glanced toward the heart of the Pleasure District, where pirates laughed and drank, burning through stolen treasure like it was nothing.
If Akainu ever set foot here, he’d probably incinerate the whole island with a single Meteor Volcano.
To be continued...
Chapter 419: Chapter 62: Gion Knows Where You Are
Chapter Text
"You need a few days to recover?" Sengoku raised an eyebrow, then, recalling Darren's monstrous physique, gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. I'll personally authorize a short medical leave."
"Thank you, Admiral Sengoku."
"Now then—what's the situation in Wano?"
His voice dropped into a graver tone, and the air shifted instantly. The business of war had no room for levity.
Meanwhile, back in the Pleasure District...
Darren exhaled a lazy stream of smoke, his half-lidded eyes watching the neon blur of nightlife flicker past.
"As I reported, Admiral," he said calmly, "Kaido has led the Beasts Pirates into Wano Country and established a vast armament industry there."
"The scale of Wano’s military production is at least double that of their former base—the one we destroyed."
Sengoku's pupils shrank. He hadn't grasped the full scope of it yesterday, but now, hearing it laid bare, he felt a chill creep through his bones.
A production line that massive... What is Kaido trying to build? A private army to conquer the world?
"Is he planning to spark a world war?" Sengoku muttered, mostly to himself.
But something else quickly nagged at him.
"Wait—Darren, you said Kaido’s already seized control of Wano. Didn’t the local samurai resist him? What happened to their warrior clans?"
Wano was an isolated, fiercely traditional land. It wasn’t the sort of place that welcomed outsiders—especially not pirate crews. The samurai wouldn’t have submitted easily, not even to Kaido.
"That part’s unclear," Darren answered vaguely. "He may have allied with certain factions."
Of course, he knew exactly what had happened. Kurozumi Orochi had colluded with Kaido, using betrayal to overthrow the rightful heir of Wano—Kozuki Oden.
Sengoku’s face darkened. If Kaido had truly gained a foothold in Wano, the situation was far more dire than they’d feared. Even a full-scale Marine assault would struggle to crack that fortress of a country.
“Let’s not forget,” Sengoku said grimly, “King the Wildfire can fly. That bastard’s no pushover.”
Infiltrating Wano was already a strategic nightmare. But if the Marines launched an invasion and found themselves battling both pirates and samurai... things could spiral out of control.
This wasn’t a simple pirate suppression. This was geopolitics—an attack on a sovereign nation, cloaked in shadowy alliances.
Sengoku slowly exhaled and rubbed his temples. “I see now.”
“You did well, Darren.”
The intel was vital. With it, the Marines could map the contours of Wano’s military strength and prepare for the war that might come.
Then Darren added, almost offhandedly, “During the investigation, I engaged Kaido directly. I only managed to destroy about a third of their factory lines before I was forced to retreat—took a bad hit.”
Sengoku blinked.
“...You fought Kaido. And escaped?”
He nodded slowly. “Even I wouldn’t guarantee a win against him. You’re lucky to have gotten out alive—wait, hang on.”
He sat bolt upright, eyes wide.
“You destroyed a third of the factory lines?!”
Darren gave a casual shrug. “Well, I was already there. Figured I’d break something on my way out.”
Already there, so why not...
Sengoku’s mouth twitched.
If Kaido ever heard that, he’d probably transform into his dragon form just to fall out of the sky in rage.
Even with years of experience, Sengoku found himself momentarily speechless.
Finally, he managed, “Right... you did well.”
“If that’s all, Admiral, I’ll focus on recovering now,” Darren said, flashing a lazy grin.
He was still deep in the Pleasure District, after all—and now that he officially had time off, he had every intention of using it. The air buzzed with music and mischief, and he could already hear laughter drifting from the bathhouses.
“Hmph.” Sengoku was about to hang up, then paused as if recalling something. “Oh, right—Darren. One more thing.”
“Stay away from Stussy.”
His voice sharpened.
“She’s not someone you want to get entangled with. Her roots run deep. That woman is far more dangerous than she appears.”
Too late, old man. We’ve already crossed lines that can’t be uncrossed.
“Understood, Admiral Sengoku!” Darren declared with mock solemnity. “I’m a seasoned Marine. I won’t be easily tempted!”
Unless temptation walks right up to me.
Sengoku: …
Oddly enough, Darren’s firm declaration only made Sengoku more uneasy.
With this kid, temptation doesn’t have to walk—it just has to smile.
He sighed.
He knew Darren all too well.
The kid wasn’t bad, exactly. But between his weakness for women, his lust for power, and his unfortunate fondness for money, he was a walking ulcer.
“Just stay away from that woman,” Sengoku growled, gritting his teeth.
“Yeah, yeah,” Darren said with a shrug.
Bit late for that, Admiral. She’s already dancing in the palm of my hand.
Sengoku narrowed his eyes, reading too much into Darren’s tone.
He hesitated... and then dropped the hammer:
“Gion already knows you’re in the Pleasure District.”
Darren: ???
His expression froze. A nerve twitched in his temple.
Then, like a switch flipped, his entire demeanor changed.
“Admiral Sengoku,” he said with utmost seriousness, “please inform Gion that my presence here is purely tactical. Strictly unavoidable.”
“I am—without question—recovering while continuing to gather critical intelligence.”
Sengoku watched the Den Den Mushi’s frantic expressions, a slow grin forming on his face.
So. Even this little devil has someone he fears.
“Then behave yourself, Darren,” he said slyly. “Would be a shame if Gion heard something... unfortunate.”
Darren: ……
There’s something really off about you today, old man.
“Understood, Admiral,” he ground out.
As the call ended, Darren rubbed his temples in resignation.
The old bastard’s picking up tricks. I’m starting to feel what Stussy must go through.
Just then, a familiar, astonished shout rang out from across the street.
“Da-Darren?!”
Darren looked up—and froze.
Tokikake stood there in all his ridiculous glory, cigar clamped between his teeth, pants barely held up, looking for all the world like a man returning triumphant from battle. He stared at Darren with wide eyes, pointing as if he’d seen a ghost.
Darren’s gaze slowly shifted to the clock hanging outside the tabloid office.
Five minutes.
It had only been five minutes since that fool swaggered into the club.
To be continued...
Chapter 420: Chapter 63: Yamakaji Has a Cure
Chapter Text
Darren stared at Tokikake with a strange expression—something caught between pity and disbelief.
Tokikake, frozen mid-stride, hadn’t expected to see Darren here of all places. His face stiffened as panic overtook his swagger. “Y-you… I-I…”
Under Darren’s dry, amused gaze, Tokikake’s cheeks flushed red as he snapped, “What’s with that look? I’m conducting reconnaissance!”
“Public service, got it? I’m here for the people! Don’t you understand duty when you see it?!”
Public service? For the people? Darren mused. I’m the one who taught you how to use those lines in the first place.
Setting down his Den Den Mushi, Darren pointed with mock curiosity toward the gilded façade of the bathhouse behind Tokikake. “Oh? Is that where intelligence work happens now?”
Tokikake’s expression darkened. He stepped forward, stiffening his spine like a man trying to salvage his last shred of dignity. “Exactly! This is an undercover operation.”
His voice brimmed with theatrical righteousness as he declared, “My deep-cover investigation has yielded critical intel about pirate activity. It will prove indispensable to Marine efforts to rid the seas of evil!”
“Mr. Gill! Mr. Gill!”
A bubbly voice called out from behind, and a young woman in a bunny-girl outfit bounced toward them, smiling brightly.
“Here’s your VIP card, sir,” she said sweetly, bowing with both hands as she presented the glossy card. “It entitles you to a 20% discount on all our premium services.”
Darren: ...
Tokikake: ...
“The card comes preloaded, right?” Darren asked, smiling as he leaned lazily against a nearby post. “I’m curious to see how you explain this part of the operation.”
Tokikake cleared his throat and forced a laugh, scratching the back of his head. “W-well, it’s a 20% discount... only fair for a returning client, you know?”
The bunny girl turned to Darren, her eyes lighting up as she slid her arm around his. Her exaggerated politeness nearly swallowed him whole. “Is this gentleman a friend of Mr. Gill’s? Care to join us, sir? We have all kinds of entertainment...”
Darren gently disentangled himself. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in paying for entertainment.”
She gave him a once-over, then beamed. “For a guest like you, sir... we’d be happy to make an exception.”
Tokikake: ???
Later, in a quiet corner of a nearby tavern, Darren accepted a glass of whiskey from the bartender, took a slow sip, and turned to face Tokikake, who was still scowling at him over his drink.
“What are you having? It’s on me.”
Tokikake huffed, then pointed at the priciest bottle on the shelf. “Fine, but first—what the hell are you doing here?”
Darren lifted his shirt just enough to reveal the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, faint blood seeping through the cloth. “Ran into Kaido in Wano. Took a hit. Picked this island at random to rest... turns out it’s the Pleasure District. Total coincidence.”
Tokikake’s jaw dropped. “Kaido?! You fought him one-on-one?!”
He shot to his feet, disbelief written across his face. “And you’re alive?!”
Darren calmly lit a cigar, the smoke curling around him like a second skin. “Get used to it. Things like that’ll be happening a lot more.”
One encounter with Kaido wasn’t nearly enough. There was still more to learn—he hadn’t even fully mastered Advanced Armament or Conqueror’s Haki infusion. Until then, the old dragon still had plenty to teach.
Tokikake clutched his hair in frustration. “Damn it... you’ve already gotten this strong?”
Darren smirked. “Maybe if you spent less time here, you could be too.”
Tokikake slammed his fist on the table. “Absolutely not! You think I’m wasting time? There are too many suffering women out there! And I—Tokikake, genius of Headquarters—will heal them with the warmth of my love!”
His eyes shone with holy fervor, his acne-scarred face practically glowing with purpose. He clenched both fists, filled with the passion of a man who had found his calling.
“This... this is my justice!”
Darren: ...
“You do realize they make more than you do, right?”
Tokikake blinked. “How’s that even possible?!”
“This is the Pleasure District,” Darren said flatly. “Not a charity ward. You’re standing in the most luxurious red-light district in the world. Their earnings would make your salary look like pocket change.”
Tokikake froze. His face twitched... then he hardened his jaw. “Doesn’t matter! I’m spreading the great love of Justice!”
Then, with a self-satisfied chuckle, he straightened his collar and added, “You wouldn’t understand. I’m top-tier combat power.”
He puffed out his chest and flashed Darren a lecherous, knowing grin.
Darren took a sip of wine and deadpanned, “Five minutes.”
Tokikake stiffened, the color draining from his face. “How did you—?!”
“I saw you. You walked in, pants still on, and came stumbling out before my Den Den Mushi call even connected.”
Tokikake turned a shade of purple and sank lower in his chair.
Darren patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Efficiency counts for something.”
He paused, then added with mock sincerity, “If it’s that bad, I heard Yamakaji’s got a few... remedies that might help.”
Tokikake slumped in defeat. “Already tried them,” he muttered.
Darren: …
Incredible. A true natural. Astonishing talent, really.
He opened his mouth to say something—but thought better of it.
“Oh, right—Darren,” Tokikake said suddenly, perking up. “You won’t tell Gion I was here, will you?”
Darren raised an eyebrow, eyeing him sideways.
Still trying to weasel out of it? Persistent little bastard.
Tokikake put on his most earnest expression. “I only came here to connect with the people. All my relationships with the girls here are strictly professional. Purely financial. No emotion involved!”
Darren: ...
Before he could respond, Tokikake had already drifted off into fantasy, a dreamy grin spreading across his face.
“Hehehe... I’ve heard Stussy, the Queen of the Pleasure District, is a peerless beauty... Wonder what she tastes like... hehehe...”
I know.
The taste of a vampire… It’s smooth. Cold. Moist.
To be continued...
Chapter 421: Chapter 64: Intrigue—Golden Lion’s Ambition
Chapter Text
Tokikake clapped Darren’s shoulder with a chuckle, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” he said smugly. “You’ve got Toki—the goddess of Marineford. Someone like you doesn’t stand a chance with Stussy, the Queen of the Pleasure District.”
He flipped his hair with a flourish, grinning. “But me? I’ve still got a shot. Headquarters’ genius, Tokikake, never fails with the ladies!”
Darren exhaled a lazy curl of smoke, smiling faintly. “Bold words for a man who can’t last five minutes.”
Tokikake’s face twitched, his posture stiffening like a kicked doorframe. “You know nothing!” he barked. “A good life is about intensity, not duration!”
Before Darren could respond, a sharply dressed man appeared beside their table, silent as a shadow. With a polite bow, he presented a gold-embossed card.
“Mr. Darren,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “A gift from Lady Stussy. This VIP card grants you unrestricted access to all establishments within the Pleasure District.”
Darren raised a brow.
Tokikake’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. “What?!”
Darren accepted the card with a nod. “Give her my thanks.”
“Yes, Mr. Darren.” The man bowed again and vanished just as quickly as he’d arrived.
Bang!
Tokikake slammed his fist on the table, eyes wild. “You’re already entangled with the Queen of the Pleasure District?! When did this happen?!”
Darren thought for a second, then smiled. “Yesterday, I think. We had... a very pleasant evening.”
Tokikake froze.
He clutched his head and let out a strangled wail. “Damn it all! DAMN IT!”
“You bastard! You already have a woman like Toki waiting back home, and now you’re chasing Stussy too?! I’m telling Toki!”
Darren reached into his pocket and casually pulled out the card. “Use it for a few days,” he said flatly.
Tokikake blinked.
His despair evaporated in an instant, replaced by a dazzling, almost reverent grin. He snatched the card like it was holy scripture.
“Oh, how shameful of me... You’re my closest friend, my greatest comrade, my most trusted brother!” He thumped his chest dramatically. “Darren, I swear—my lips are sealed!”
Darren: …
The next few days passed quickly.
With a rare stretch of authorized leave, Darren took full advantage, immersing himself in the Pleasure District—one of the most extravagant cities on the sea.
Tesoro, the man who would one day be known as the Golden Emperor, was still a nameless street performer then, his towering dream of Gran Tesoro not yet built. But the Pleasure District was already a world-renowned haven of indulgence—its glamour exceeded even Darren’s expectations.
While known for its courtesans, the district was far more than flesh and perfume. Lavish casinos, gladiator arenas, and mesmerizing stage shows made it a playground of vice and spectacle. Even Darren, King of the North Blue, found himself quietly impressed.
“Tokikake,” Darren said one morning, glancing up from his newspaper, “if you don’t slow down, you’re going to drop dead.”
Tokikake looked like a ghost. His skin had gone pale, deep shadows clung beneath his eyes, and his cigar trembled between his fingers.
“I’m fine…” he muttered, voice hoarse. “I’ve still got twenty-eight places left to visit...”
“Six,” Darren corrected with a sigh. “And there’ll be other chances. You don’t have to die for it.”
But Tokikake snapped upright, suddenly burning with passion. “Wait—you mean I can use the card again later?”
He leaned in, eyes trembling with emotion. “Don’t mess with me, Darren. If you’re lying, I’ll never forgive you!”
Darren looked at him, mildly horrified. “Fine. Whatever. Keep it. I don’t need it.”
He’s lost at least twenty pounds since we got here. If this goes on, I might have to organize a funeral.
“YES!” Tokikake roared, punching the air. “Darren! You’re a real brother!”
He pointed at him dramatically, eyes shining. “From now on, anyone who dares touch you—I'll flatten them!”
Darren raised a brow. “You sure?”
“Absolutely!”
“Alright then. Kaido’s in Wano, Big Mom’s still in Totto Land. Roger just entered the Grand Line and will hit the New World soon. Shiki’s off the radar, and Whitebeard’s territory is stable.” He grinned. “Take your pick.”
Tokikake froze, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “Er… well...”
Darren chuckled softly and shook his head. He folded his newspaper neatly, set it on the table, downed his glass of whiskey, and stood.
“Let’s go. Time to head back.”
He dropped a few bills on the table and walked toward the tavern door.
“Huh? We’re leaving?” Tokikake blinked. “Your leave’s not over yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. Sengoku’s probably been trying to reach us.” Darren’s voice turned sharper as he walked. That easygoing aura faded, replaced by the calm, commanding presence of a Marine Vice Admiral. Every step sent a ripple of authority through the tavern.
“Sengoku?” Tokikake muttered.
Right then, his Den Den Mushi rang loudly.
He fumbled it open. “This is Commodore Tokikake of—”
“What?! Admiral Sengoku?!”
His face paled instantly.
“Yes! Understood! Darren and I will return to Headquarters immediately!”
He slammed the receiver down and bolted after Darren, panic flaring in his eyes.
Back on the table, Darren’s newspaper remained, the headline printed in bold:
“Flying Admiral Golden Lion Shiki on the Move—Flying Pirates Begin Recruiting!”
And beneath the byline: Written by Morgans, President of the World Economic News Paper.
...
...
...
...
The final arc of this volume begins now.
To be continued...
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