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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
"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.
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.
Standing there was a towering Marine in a peaked cap. His face was cold, stoic—his presence, overwhelming.
"So?" the man asked coolly. "You in, Darren?"
Darren stared at him.
Sakazuki stared back, just as emotionless.
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!"
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.