Katakuri’s usual fighting style was clean, calculated—swift and precise, like a cheetah bringing down its prey with deadly efficiency. Every step, every strike, flowed with purpose and poise.
That discipline had vanished.
His eyes were bloodshot, streaked with pulsing crimson veins. His killing intent poured from him like a storm breaking free of the sky.
All reason had been consumed by rage.
He no longer fought to protect anyone. He wasn’t fighting as Big Mom’s commander or the Charlotte Family’s guardian.
He was fighting as a man whose pride had been shattered.
And the one who shattered it stood just meters away, grinning like the devil himself.
Katakuri roared, vanishing in a blink.
He reappeared above Darren, his silhouette framed by the fractured sky.
"Monster Strength Mochi!"
A mountainous fist of jet-black mochi materialized—Armament Haki layered thick and heavy across its hardened surface. It plummeted like a falling star, compressing the air beneath it into violent shockwaves. The force alone cracked the earth at Darren’s feet before the blow even landed.
Darren’s lips curled into a feral grin.
A flash of violet lightning sparked in his eyes.
His Observation Haki—now refined to 70 points—had undergone a transformation. When paired with his Magnet-Magnet Fruit, it birthed something new: Magnetic Field Sensing.
Not unlike how the Rumble-Rumble Fruit enhanced Observation Haki via electromagnetic waves, Darren’s version sharpened it with ruthless precision. While Enel gained range, Darren gained clarity.
His 70-point Observation Haki now rivaled 80 in sheer accuracy.
His feet tapped the ground in a blur—dozens of steps in a heartbeat.
And then he vanished.
Katakuri’s fist landed, gouging out a crater that split the town in half. Buildings crumbled like paper. Rubble flew skyward in a mushroom cloud of dust and ruin.
Dozens of meters away, Darren skidded backward, the earth ripping beneath his heels.
A thunderous crack echoed as he blasted upward, the force of his leap blowing a crater wide enough to swallow a warship.
"I’m going to kill you!!"
Katakuri roared, his fists already flying.
Nine Peerless Doughnuts spiraled around him, their mochi limbs writhing and multiplying until they filled the sky.
"Nine-Headed Mochi!!"
A rain of fists descended.
But Darren’s vision had shifted.
Time didn’t slow—it shattered.
Every frame of movement unfolded like a sequence in a flipbook. He could see it all—the trajectory, the angle, the impact point. It was beautiful. Precise.
He soared between the attacks with blinding speed, streaking through the sky like a living bullet. His afterimages rippled through the air.
"Hahahaha! Not enough! Not nearly enough!" Darren laughed, sparks dancing in his eyes. "Today, Pops is gonna teach you a lesson—my son, Katakuri!"
In an instant, he was in Katakuri’s face.
A fist, crackling with Haki, tore through the air.
Katakuri didn’t dodge.
Eyes wild. Fist raised.
No Peerless Doughnuts this time.
Just flesh and bone and fury.
Their punches collided mid-air.
Darren tilted his head at the last moment.
Katakuri’s fist grazed his hair.
Landed flush on Katakuri’s jaw.
Blood exploded from Katakuri’s mouth and nose. His head snapped back violently. Were it not for his Paramecia-enhanced body, his skull would have caved in like a melon under a hammer.
His Observation Haki had failed him.
Ah... so that’s why mine stopped improving, Darren realized.
He’d gone too far. His words, his taunts, his games—they had shattered Katakuri’s focus.
The young commander thrived in calm, calculated combat, dominating opponents with foresight and timing. Without that mental clarity, he was a storm without a center—louder, flashier, but easier to pierce.
Katakuri’s body crashed into the earth, carving a crater over a hundred meters wide. Dust and debris blanketed the air.
Darren hovered for a moment, eyes narrowed.
He stared down at the battered, bleeding form sprawled in the rubble.
As a Marine, he was supposed to.
But Darren was no ordinary Marine.
And Katakuri... was no ordinary pirate.
He still had potential. Real potential. With time and guidance, he could break into Admiral-tier. And Darren—Darren hadn’t finished learning yet.
Killing him now would be like throwing away a perfectly good training dummy.
"Why are you hesitating, Marine?!"
Katakuri’s voice rasped from below, hoarse but alive. He glared up through one swollen eye, barely breathing.
"Just do it! Kill me!"
He wants to die already?
Then, with a slow grin, he replied.
"I could never bear to let you go."
He sighed dramatically, eyes gleaming.
"You’re my precious son, after all."
He crouched slightly, looking into Katakuri’s stunned, bloodshot eyes.
"A little mischievous, sure—but come on... what kind of adult holds a grudge against a child?"
A thick stream of blood burst from his mouth. His face contorted in disbelief.
He could not—could not—believe what he was hearing.
A voice echoed from above. Smoky. Seductive. Familiar.
"Ma~mamamama! Darren, I heard that! So you’ve finally come to your senses and accepted your role as my husband?"
A vortex of clouds spun overhead, blotting out the sun. Violet lightning streaked across the blackened sky, and the air crackled with a monstrous pressure.
Darren’s face twisted.
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the pitch-black blade of Enma. Magnetism surged beneath him, and with a thunderous blast, he shot forward like a dark comet, streaking toward the horizon.
He was still drained from fighting Katakuri. There was no way he was taking on her right now.
Even at full strength, he’d rather not.
Not against that madwoman.
The way she looked at him—like a wedding cake she wanted to devour—still haunted his dreams.
Katakuri watched, wide-eyed, as the Marine who had just humiliated him disappeared into the distance.
From far, far away, Darren’s voice echoed faintly over the wind:
"I never agreed to this!! Keep dreaming, Charlotte Linlin!!"