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."
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.
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.
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 , calories meant recovery.
Years of military habit, betrayal, and mistrust made him wary of anything—especially enemy provisions.
"If they wanted to kill us, they would've done it already. No point in poisoning the food."
Darren muttered around a mouthful.
Then slowly, wordlessly, reached out and began eating too.