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.
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:
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."
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 Marine Officer Training Program, 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.
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, Daren lunged forward like a hunting leopard.
Faced with an opponent leagues above him, he didn't hesitate.