"...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.
"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.
"And besides, you know if you did leave me behind, I'd just show up anyway."
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.
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."
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.
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.
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!"
"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.
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:
"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."