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.
Could this method truly create a top-tier powerhouse?
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.
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!
Darren murmured softly, his eyes gradually brightening.
"Then what should I do?"
He looked at Garp with growing excitement.
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.
The entire battleship shuddered violently, and countless fragments exploded outward from where his fist landed.
"Did you understand?" Garp turned his head, smiling broadly.
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!"
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 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.
"That damned brat got called away by Garp!?"