The sea blurred beneath him. Islands, towns, and clouds streaked past like smears on a painted canvas, vanishing behind him at speeds few could fathom.
The wind screamed around Darren—sharp as a thousand blades—lashing at his skin, tugging violently at the Vice Admiral’s coat draped across his shoulders. It fluttered wildly in his wake, a white banner against the endless blue.
His mastery of the Magnet-Magnet Fruit had reached extraordinary levels. Riding a magnetic field that bent the laws of physics, Darren rocketed through the sky at supersonic velocity. The crushing pressure of the sound barrier barely scratched his steel-forged physique.
As Totto Land grew nearer, his mind remained sharp, focused.
The speech he’d delivered at the Marine graduation ceremony had been only the beginning.
Step one: ignite the flames. Stoke the Marines’ hatred for pirates—so deeply that Headquarters would have no choice but to consider war.
Step two: convince the upper brass. With the vocal support of Sakazuki and Borsalino—and the tantalizing promise of a zero-cost offensive—it hadn’t taken much to sway Sengoku and Kong.
But step three... that was the key.
To build his clique, unite the Marines behind his banner, and secure command of G-5, Darren needed more than words.
Not just any win—an overwhelming, public, undeniable triumph.
Because no matter how impassioned a speech, no matter how righteous the cause, the Marines wouldn’t truly follow unless he proved himself in the field. They needed more than slogans. They needed to believe.
And so, Darren had to choose a target—one loud enough to send a message, one powerful enough to validate his rise.
Big Mom had not been his first choice.
Kaido’s base was already in ruins—smashed to dust by the Marine assault. Though rumors swirled about his interest in Wano Country, his next move remained unclear. Darren couldn’t risk attacking a ghost.
Wano itself was too delicate. Politically charged. One wrong move there could ignite international turmoil.
As for the Golden Lion, his lack of a stable base made him too elusive. Even if he rebuilt his fleet, he’d vanish the moment resources ran dry. No ground to claim. No message to send.
That left Charlotte Linlin.
The madwoman of Totto Land.
Darren exhaled through his nose, a bitter smile playing at his lips.
"If there was any other way..."
Of the three pirate legends who’d stormed Marineford, she was the one he’d least wanted to face. He would’ve taken a bare-knuckle match with Kaido over this insanity any day.
Still, he had no choice.
He closed his eyes and turned inward.
Perception Talent—Activate.
Lines of data unfolded before his mind like an ancient scroll.
Physique: 88.212 (Steel Body)
Devil Fruit Development: 83.211 (Island-Covering)
Armament Haki: 58.035
Observation Haki: 47.117
Conqueror’s Haki: 59.301
His performance at Marineford had skyrocketed his stats. His body—long plateaued—had finally edged past another threshold. Strength and speed had climbed. His haki had surged. Even Observation Haki, once his weakest area, had seen astonishing growth—nearly ten full points.
Credit, strangely enough, belonged in part to Rayleigh.
The old man had never been a good teacher, but his words rang true: "Only by clashing with the strong does true strength emerge."
Darren understood this intimately.
At his level, training alone was no longer enough. Physique, strength, speed—these stats didn’t budge with daily effort anymore. Two points could take a year. Improvement now came only through life-and-death battles.
His gaze burned with anticipation.
He’d seen it happen—Sakazuki and Borsalino breaking through their barriers during the Marineford War. Under Golden Lion’s pressure, they’d ascended into the realm of true Admirals.
Now, Darren stood on the edge of that same frontier.
He studied his stats again.
If he could push both Strength and Speed above 80, he suspected it would trigger another awakening. Something on the scale of Island-Covering or Steel Body. A transformation that would cement his place in the top tier.
If he pushed Armament and Observation Haki past 60, he’d no longer be knocking at the door—he’d be inside the Admiral-level threshold.
The chasm between Silver-Tier and Gold-Tier fighters.
Below that line, going toe-to-toe with legends like Roger, Whitebeard, or Golden Lion was suicide.
Unless, of course, you were a monster like Darren.
Or like the other two monsters—Sakazuki and Borsalino.
He chuckled to himself, recalling a prime example of what happened when Silver-Tier tried to punch above its weight.
At Wano, the Pirate King had roared into battle with Fourth Gear blazing, full of righteous fury—shouting about friendship, bonds, dreams...
And Kaido flattened him with a single swing.
Later, after weeks of savage training with the Beasts Pirates, Luffy clawed his way into the Gold-Tier. Ryuo mastery. Conqueror’s Haki coating. Awakening. Sun God.
But the gap had been real. It always was.
Admiral-level was the line that divided pretenders from predators.
And even within that level, power varied wildly.
Some Admirals collapsed under the pressure of a distant burst of Conqueror’s Haki.
Others stared down Whitebeard himself—trading blows, drawing blood, punching holes through legends.
Darren adjusted his breath, centering his energy.
After nearly three hours in flight, the silhouette of an island slowly emerged in the distance—dark and distinct against the sea.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a Den Den Mushi.
Not just any Den Den Mushi—this one had been customized by the Science Division. Windproof goggles. Adjustable strap. Its soft, sluglike face stared up at Darren with a look of grim determination.
"You’re taking this more seriously than half my officers."
The creature blinked. Darren chuckled and strapped it to his forehead.
A camera on his head. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Who could resist a man with a front-row seat to chaos?
He tapped the button.
The world was watching.
And his voice rang out, calm, electric, unmistakable: