Darren wasn’t sure whether the seed he’d planted in Katakuri’s heart would truly take root and blossom.
But the idea alone was intoxicating.
Charlotte Katakuri—Big Mom’s most noble creation—never inspired hatred in Darren. If anything, he found the man fascinating.
A tragic figure, loyal to a tyrant. Bound by honor. Shackled by duty.
While Charlotte Linlin treated her children like disposable tools—demanding obedience, offering no affection, and crushing dissent with a manic smile—Katakuri had always stood apart.
Darren had seen it in their fight. That fierce loyalty. That burning desire to protect. The man wasn’t driven by greed or conquest—he fought for family.
Darren couldn’t help but wonder—
What would happen when those two paths diverged?
When the lines between "protecting his siblings" and "serving Big Mom" finally crossed?
Would Katakuri bury his rage and remain the ever-obedient son? Or would he turn away from the mother he once revered—and become something more?
The question consumed him.
But it wasn’t idle curiosity.
Darren’s little "lesson" had already pushed his Observation Haki to the edge of its current limits. Progress had slowed. The higher the level, the harder each step forward became.
And Katakuri, as he was now, simply wasn’t strong enough to push him any further.
He wasn’t yet the peak version of himself—the Vice-Captain who had once stood just beneath an Emperor. His strength hadn’t fully matured. His Haki hadn’t sharpened to its final edge.
The "leek" wasn’t fat enough.
But Darren didn’t have years to wait.
So he planted a crack in Katakuri’s heart. Something subtle. Something painful. A splinter of doubt in his loyalty to Big Mom. The kind that might grow into rebellion.
And if that happened...
Katakuri would shed the chains of subservience. He’d evolve faster. Burn brighter.
Become a proper rival—and a worthy training partner.
That’s what’s really holding him back, Darren mused. It’s not his talent—it’s her.
Katakuri, King, Marco the Phoenix... all powerful. All capable.
But none of them truly broke through to Admiral level. Why?
Because they weren’t comrades. They were subordinates.
They lived under the shadows of their captains. Carried the burdens of their crews. And that burden stunted them.
Only the ones who stood as equals to their Captains ever reached the summit.
They walked beside their captains.
In the pirate world, strength wasn’t just about training or bloodline—it was about will.
The moment you lowered your head, the moment you submitted, you stopped growing.
History was full of examples.
Gecko Moria, once a man who clashed with Kaido himself, crumbled after the loss of his crew. His will broke—and with it, his Haki. He regressed so far he could barely put up a fight against rookies.
Crocodile was the same. He once tore through the New World like a storm. Clashed with Bullet for days. But after his defeat at Whitebeard’s hands, he lost everything—ambition, pride, power.
It wasn’t until Impel Down—until he rekindled his will—that he surged again, fighting toe-to-toe with some of the strongest during the Summit War. Arguably, he became its true MVP.
Even Doflamingo, once dead set on becoming Pirate King, chose submission after seeing Kaido’s monstrous power. That choice—that fear—cost him the chance to go further.
Darren didn’t know what effect his words would ultimately have on Katakuri.
But he hoped—no, he wanted—that pain to evolve into something greater.
Because he still wasn’t done learning.
And if Katakuri ever broke free from Big Mom’s grip...
Now that would be interesting.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
Far above the ocean, Darren soared through the clouds, racing back toward Marineford. The winds howled past as he activated his Perception Talent and scanned his status:
Physique: 88.649 (Steel Body)
Devil Fruit Ability Development: 85.211 (Island-Covering)
Armament Haki: 59.035
Observation Haki: 72.117 (Magnetic Field Sensing)
Conqueror’s Haki: 60.000
His Physique, Strength, and Armament Haki had all crept up—small gains, but every inch mattered at his level. Katakuri’s punches hadn’t been wasted.
Speed had jumped by two points—unsurprising, considering how much time he’d spent dodging and dancing around in the air, refining his reflexes under pressure.
That number had finally cracked 60.
No set method existed for training Conqueror’s Haki. It wasn’t something you strengthened like muscles.
A manifestation of spirit. A force of personality so intense it bent the world around you.
But Darren had noticed a pattern.
When you clashed with others who wielded it—true warriors—you sharpened one another.
Katakuri had pushed him.
Not just physically, but mentally. Philosophically. His existence had refined Darren’s own.
And then there was Observation Haki.
That, of course, had skyrocketed—from 47 to 72 in half a day.
Darren couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
"Forget the Training Camp..."
"Queen and Katakuri are the real sensei!"
Without Zephyr’s training, he never would’ve had the foundation to grow . The sweat and suffering at the camp had paved every step forward.
This "Magnetic Field Sensing" ability was fascinating.
The idea of pushing past 80 in both Strength and Speed now felt within reach.
"Wano, huh..." Darren murmured, rubbing his chin as he darted between clouds.
Maybe it’s time for a scouting trip.